Following the calendar of old, in the year 1889 Anno Domini, in the German city of Freiburg, there was an attempt to distill the organosulfur compound, Thioacetone. This attempt was followed by instances of nausea, vomiting and unconsciousness as far as 700 meters away from the laboratory due to the smell released during the distillation process. From the few remaining witness testimonies still available on record, one word resonates more than any other. Unanimously, every single individual who has come in contact with the smell, has described it as... Fearful. Later records indicate that many attempts have been made in order to protect researchers from the smell, but those willing and able to deal with the chemical, quickly found themselves cast out from social circles due to how badly anyone around them reacted to the remnant odor. - Unknown historian, Compendium on olfactory terrorism.

  Ronin exited the VR chamber. Playing with no pain limiter had not only helped get rid of the insidious energy from the alien artifact, it had also helped him learn quicker. He was now winning over 50% of his matches and was steadily making his way towards the silver league.

  The funny thing was — besides the headache worsening every time he lost — he was beginning to get used to dying. The feeling of having his sense of self dissolving, which had taken hours to overcome before, had now become something he could shrug off in minutes.

  Ronin grabbed some fabric off to the side, then dried himself off.

  “To get used to dying…” he mumbled. “Is it actually a good thing though?”

  When faced with imminent death, the body reacted the way it did for a reason. If he taught his body to ignore those reactions, there might be consequences.

  Ronin shook his head. Whatever, it's not like there's a choice anyways. It’ll probably be fine.

  He lowered his legs into a stance, then began practicing the Kalvrakian Embrace. After this session, he would finally complete his first ship. The Hemsway just stood there, waiting for him. He was so close now he could practically smell it.

  Moving from one stance to the other, Ronin eventually reached the 8th stance. His body strained a little, but it was tolerable. He could do this.

  Holding the position, the dense energy filled his body, and he shifted, locking in the 9th stance.

  Strange, he thought. Why is there no change?

  Every time he locked in a new stance, there was always a rush of power. This time, however, there was none of that. No improved vision, no healing, no stronger muscles. Instead, in his mind's eye, illusory plants began to grow up from the ground as a faint smell of nature entered his nose.

  Is this a hallucination, or a new aspect of the technique?

  Ronin released the stance, and the illusions disappeared.

  Yeah, it’s definitely the technique, he thought. Wait—

  Ronin’s left shoulder shot forward as a muscle on his back spasmed.

  What in the world?

  His right leg jerked, nearly causing him to fall. And as he tried to balance himself, his body began jaggedly moving around. At this point, he was barely in control of his limbs anymore. His right arm shot out as another muscle twitched.

  Ronin sighed, and several of his joints let out loud audible pops as the breath left his body. How was he supposed to be building the Hemsway now?!

  Screw it, he thought. I'm not giving up that easily!

  He stumbled his way over to the assembler, then grabbed two of the levers. As he began moving around the assembly arms, however, a muscle spasm caused him to jerk one of the levers back, knocking over a section of the ship’s hull.

  “Dammit,” he cursed. “Seems the Hemsway is going to have to wait.”

  He sat down, then tried to ignore the spasms as he pulled up a list of the academy exercises. He should at least be able to do this.

  Later today, there would be a celebration. And not only was Simons coming, Ronin had also invited Nagata and the Tulsi family. With the way he'd sort of forcibly dragged the mother and son out of the slums, they deserved at least this much.

  Heck, even Speck was coming!

  After Speck had so graciously offered that glass of water a couple of months back — when Ronin was making his way towards Nagata — he figured that inviting the man to dinner, was the least he could do.

  Ronin nudged his implant, then pulled up an exercise on materials science. He'd memorized the properties of all the different materials, so the only thing he would really have to spend time on, were the calculations. About half an hour later, he moved on to the next course. These exercises were only getting easier by the day. Hours passed as Ronin quickly burned through the homework, only slowing down once he got to the more difficult ones of the mathematical problems. Finally, after struggling for about 15 minutes solving a particularly nasty differential equation, he checked the time:

  Hmm, if I leave now, I should be able to just about make it before the Happy Pearl reservation kicks in…

  Awkwardly making his way back on his feet, Ronin headed towards the Heromaker. His muscles spasmed with each step, and as he moved into the suit, it, in turn, also began to twitch. Ronin's arm shot out, and the suit's metal fist clanged against a nearby wall.

  “Void dammit!” he cursed.

  He pulled up the suit’s HUD, then scrolled down the settings menu. There was no way he’d be able to eat in some fancy restaurant like this.

  Tactile sensitivity control?

  He clicked the text, opening another menu.

  Based on the information here, it seemed that he could tune the amount of force he'd need to exert in order to make the suit move.

  Ronin turned the dial all the way down.

  “There…” he breathed out.

  The Heromaker, now, remained perfectly still. Straining his legs, Ronin began to move towards the runway.

  It was finally time for some team building!

  “...”

  “Caramelized unitarian Lion from the edge of Lobar, served with Hegelian bruschetta and deep-fried p?nions,” the waiter graciously said as he served the latest dish. It was not the first and certainly not the last dish they would eat tonight.

  As his glass was refilled with wine, locally brewed from the nearby planet Hartheim, Speck, in the middle of a story, continued on:

  “—But honestly Ronin, I couldn’t believe it when I first heard you’d joined the space force academy!”

  Simon's eyebrows rose in surprise.

  Speck, noticing Simons' reaction, followed up:

  “What? You really don't know!? Listen, back in the day, I think Ronin was about 15 at the time, I saw him jump 4 meters ahead and 5 meters down to reach a construction pole, which he then, mid fall, promptly used to slide down another 15 meters before reaching the ground. You were part of that… what do you call it?”

  “Parkour group,” Ronin finished.

  “Yeah, that's the one! Regardless, that jump was so scary even those guys didn’t do it. Ronin was a maniac back in the day, so when I heard he’d joined the academy as a designer?! Let's just say I was a little shocked to say the least... I was sure he'd become a stuntman or join up with the planetary guard or something, but the ISFA? No way!”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “I had no idea,” Simons said, his eyes wide. “He rarely shows up for class, but his work is always on point. Still, that sounds insane, I remember back when I was 15, my father barely even let me out of the house.”

  “Mr. still jumps from a lot of places,” the tiny Scrabby helpfully added. “He jumped down from a roof to fight the ruddles.”

  “Ronin, you only did those sorts of things because of all that negative energy building up inside of you, you need to free your mind more often,” Uncle Nagata followed up.

  “Enough! I already know what "mind-freeing" alternatives you’re thinking of. I'm never doing that again!” Ronin barked back at his uncle.

  He was never taking atom spice again. Ever.

  “By the way,” Simons commented, sampling another sip of the wine. “Why are you wearing power armor here?”

  “Got a bounty on my head,” Ronin grumbled back.

  “Bounty!?” Speck's eyes lit up. “Look at that, he’s all grown up and I wasn't even there to see it.”

  “Shut it! It's a big bounty, ok?” Ronin sullenly bit back, taking a big swig from the wine glass.

  “Anyways, you said the suit had something called a dance routine?” Nagata asked, a mischievous glint filling his eyes.

  “Dance routine? Like a victory dance after the hero wins!?” Scrabby followed up, his eyes sparkling.

  “No no—” Ronin began, but before he could gain any momentum, the whole table was chanting for him to dance.

  Even the newly angelic voice of Simons joined in with the chorus.

  “Dance, dance, dance, dance!”

  As the group began hammering the table in sync, Ronin, realizing he might have gotten a little too tipsy from all the wine, finally gave in.

  “Alright, alright! But only one dance, ok? I’ve never actually tried this before so bear with me here.”

  Shaking his head inwardly, he got up and walked a little off to the side, receiving strange glances from the guests at the other tables.

  Using his Uninet-2000, he pulled up the dance list from his suit, inspecting the various programs.

  Let's see… “Mr. Me, I’m the machine” sounds a little too corny, “Smooth spinner” should probably be left for when I'm sober… Oh, here, this one sounds alright.

  Bracing himself for whatever was to come, he activated the program called Medley — and regretted it immediately after.

  The Heromaker suit began playing loud sensual music in the middle of the restaurant as a soft male voice began singing:

  “I’m juicy, I’m candy, I’m a sexy beast, and I feel dandy.”

  The suit, now moving on its own, following a preset program, began thrusting its hips back and forth, the golden codpiece jingling a little with each thrust.

  Oh no! I need to end this now! Ronin thought, frantically trying to shut down the dance routine as fast as possible.

  Every single person he’d invited to the party was now laughing hysterically.

  “Do you want the golden? The smoothy gold?—“ The soft male voice sang before it was finally cut off as Ronin found the “forced shutdown” button.

  Many of the other guests at the restaurant were also laughing at this point. Ronin even saw one of the waiters chuckling.

  He cursed, that damn codpiece had to go, it simply looked ridiculous! And what was with these dance programs?

  “You sure you don’t have another dance you could try? I was just starting to enjoy this,” Elsa said.

  “Augh, you too?” Ronin complained.

  Amidst the laughing crowd, he made his way back onto his chair, then gulped down a big mouthful of wine. He needed it, now more than ever...

  The buffet continued on late into the evening as more jokes were made, and new exotic foods were tasted. Then, as the 3rd dish following the unitarian lion was brought out, Ronin noticed it.

  Something had gone terribly wrong.

  The entire day, his limbs had kept on twitching, but now? It had all just suddenly stopped. Whatever was happening to him though, was definitely not over.

  An uncomfortable feeling began rising within Ronin's abdomen, and his stomach began to churn and grumble. There would be an ominous trip to the toilet soon, of that, he was sure. In a flash, he placed down the cutlery and got up. Excusing himself from the table, he quickly rushed toward the nearest lavatory, then slammed the door shut behind him.

  After hastily locking the door, he popped out of the Heromaker, then heaved himself onto the toilet. An audible growl sounded out as his stomach cramped and Ronin had to hold onto the toilet seat.

  “Oh void,” he whispered.

  Why had everything become so different after reaching the 9th stance?

  Wait, don’t tell me!?

  Ronin accessed his mental palace, then looked into the open gate containing his memories on the Kalvrakian embrace:

  Kalvrakian embrace: With every 8th small step, the warrior reaches the bounds of mortality and in order to proceed, sheds his mortality, structuring his body closer to the image of gods.

  Was this it? Was he shedding his mortality?

  Ronin's body violently jerked as he started to sweat. Apparently, there would be a lot of mortality to shed today.

  The onslaught began and Ronin had to grit his teeth not to cry out. But as the seconds passed, he also began to realize that there was more to this.

  He now started fearing for the others in the restaurant as well.

  He sent Nagata a message:

  [The money I’ve sent should pay for the buffet. Pay the waiter, then take everyone with you and leave immediately!]

  [Why? What’s going on?] Nagata asked back.

  [I don’t have time to explain! Just leave, now!]

  Hopefully, it would be enough…

  Scrunching his nose, one of the Happy Pearl waiters walked over to one of the restrooms. He hadn’t checked it earlier due to the commotion.

  Several customers had just suddenly got up and left. Then, as if that already wasn’t enough, a man wearing full power armor had just burst out of the restaurant like he was fleeing from the apocalypse.

  But what was that smell? It was faint, but still, it was absolutely horrendous. As the waiter reached the door, he first tried to gently push it open, but it wouldn’t budge.

  Putting his back into it, he then rammed the door and with a POP! it snapped open, and the waiter — fell unconscious on the spot.

  Further back in the restaurant, the soft background music got interrupted as the man fell over and several guests perked up in confusion.

  The confusion did not last long however, as the smell — which had previously been too weak to notice — began to rise in intensity.

  “What's this foul odor!? It smells like something died!” One of the female guests shouted.

  “I’m sorry miss, we’re looking into-Uagh!” Before the waiter could finish, his body jerked forward in a violent gag reflex.

  The sound of the unwilling gagging rang out as a siren's call as multiple people, all over the restaurant, also began to gag.

  “What sort of customer service is this?!” One man shouted. “This is the most horrible thing I've ever!—” Before he could finish, the blue-finned Calamara with Lacroxian caviar ended up back on the same table he’d just eaten from, prompting the rest of the people sitting there to start emptying their stomachs as well.

  As the pandemonium continued ramping up, an iron blooded soldier in civilian clothing made a snap decision, bolting for the elevator. He’d seen dead men before. He’d smelled the stench of rotting humans as they’d lain there for days to fester in the sun. But this... this was worse, he had to get out of here, no matter what!

  “Ooh Void! the smell! The smell!” A voice cried out as people all over the restaurant continued passing out. The soldier entered the elevator then pressed whatever button his hand reached first.

  The elevator door closed shut as others, desperate to flee as well, banged on the door for help.

  “Please, open it! Let me in!” One man shouted.

  “No, don't leave me here!” A woman screamed.

  The elevator began rising, stopping at a lingerie-based clothing store a couple of floors up. Exiting the elevator, the soldier quickly ran deep into the store, seeking shelter.

  The particles emanating the foul odor had, however, followed along with the soldier, and when the elevator door opened, these particles began to spread...

  The prim and proper customers, gallivanting along the aisles, elegantly perusing the merchandise, quickly noticed something wrong. And as the odor began to conquer the new floor, it became clear that if anything, the dilution of the smell only made it worse, not better.

  “Help! Help! We need the planetary guard!” One of the shoppers screamed as she started running around hysterically, desperately trying to flee.

  This scene repeated itself many times as the few guests, still conscious, continued escaping the Happy Pearl restaurant.

  More and more people began to use the elevators, and more people began to spread the odor.

  Floor by floor, panic erupted as people started to gag, empty their stomachs, then pass out. Before long, be it by elevator, or through the skyscraper’s ventilation system, the smell filled the entire building and began breaking out and onto the streets.

  In a matter of minutes, the odor had spread far beyond the skyscraper, covering several nearby buildings, be it shopping centers, Ironglades banking services or hotels, the smell didn’t stop before reaching out kilometers away from ground zero.

  But though the odor may have halted its spread along the upper districts, that was not the case further down. Fortunately, or unfortunately, that day, there was a consistent breeze moving air down from the upper districts, into the lower ones, spreading the panic even further.

  And as ships fled the area, the planetary guard arrived... before quickly leaving again. Whatever gas masks they’d brought out for this, had not been enough.