Omniscient Extra's ViewPoint: Supreme Adaptation-Chapter 20: House of Humour

[Hello, readers. This Chapter will be filled with high comedy throughout—until its ending. The family get-together is here, and there's plenty of fun to be had. In particular, the humour is... rather dark. It might be unhealthy, at some point.]

***

"Hello, brother. Apologies for arriving unannounced. How have you been—"

Sky's words were abruptly cut short as Vorden shoved him aside, his attention fixed on whatever they were attempting to conceal behind them.

Sky himself had a head of curly brown hair, each strand tipped with a faint red hue.

His features were sharply defined, and his blue eyes—alight with mischief, quite literally—held a perpetual glint of amusement.

Though only fifteen, soon to be sixteen this year, he already stood at a respectable 5'8.

Amy, by contrast, had jet-black hair streaked with soft pink at the ends.

She possessed an undeniable charm, appearing somewhat older than her fourteen years—fifteen, by the end of the year.

At the same height as Sky, her striking blue eyes mirrored his, a rather common trait in their family.

Of course, their close age gap was somewhat peculiar.

Vorden, at seventeen, would turn eighteen in just a month.

Sky, reaching sixteen this year, was merely two years younger.

Meanwhile, Amy trailed just a single year behind him.

Fascinating, really.

Amy instinctively took a step back as Vorden advanced. Every fibre of her being screamed at her to flee.

His gaze was locked onto whatever lay hidden behind them.

Then, Vorden stopped.

His eyes expanded in sheer horror, his hands raking through his hair—a gesture caught between despair and the brink of madness.

May, on the other hand, wasted no time.

"Oh, doom..."

She had already transformed into a rat and scurried upstairs, vanishing from the scene.

Before him, atop the kitchen's high-speed electric cooker, lay his finest cut of meat—premium, rare, his absolute favourite.

Now fried to a crisp. Burnt beyond salvation.

"Hahaha... We helped you fry it! Looks delicious, doesn't it?" Amy said, her voice trembling as she clasped her hands behind her back.

Vorden's gaze snapped toward her—sharp, almost lethal. A chill ran down her spine. At that moment, she wished the ground would swallow her whole.

Sky let out an awkward laugh, already calculating possible escape routes.

"Why... did you—drop it!"

Vorden's voice cracked with fury as he snatched the frying spoon from Amy's grip and hurled it into the automatic cleaning bot.

The machine whirred into action, effortlessly scrubbing it spotless.

From behind them, a mechanical voice chimed in.

The robot chef—standing at a modest 3'5, with sleek metallic plating and a pair of glowing amber eyes—observed them with what could only be described as digital disdain.

"I did warn them, sire. I explicitly advised against frying it in such a manner. But no, they insisted on proving they were, indeed, humans. Hmph."

"Heh? And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" Sky and Amy snapped in unison, their voices edged with indignation.

But really—what did that mean?

"I said nothing," the robot replied flatly before turning on its heel and striding away, leaving the two fuming in silence.

Dumb, perhaps?

Vorden pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Enough. All of you—get to the main room. Now. You're going to explain why you're here instead of your home."

Sky and Amy exchanged uneasy glances before reluctantly retreating, beads of cold sweat trickling down their brows.

"How are we supposed to tell him?" Sky muttered under his breath as they walked off.

Unfortunately, Vorden's hearing was far too sharp.

His gaze darkened.

"Tell me what?"

A shiver coursed through them.

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing at all!"

They waved their hands in frantic dismissal before bolting from the room.

Vorden exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair again, then turned back to the charred remains of what had once been his finest cut of meat.

'Fuck... My meat...'

He very nearly shed a tear.

"May! Get down here this instant!" he roared.

His two siblings, of course, knew May well—his Heavenly Beast, but more than just a companion to their brother.

Over time, they had come to see her as family.

Just as Vorden always had, maybe.

...

At last, they had moved on to discussing family matters.

Yes, the two before Vorden had committed a grave atrocity.

He couldn't help but wonder—was he truly surrounded by imbeciles? Perhaps.

He had ordered May to clean the entire kitchenette by hand, with no assistance from the bots.

Oddly enough, the little creature seemed to enjoy the task.

Maybe she was simply bored. Or perhaps... she was scheming something.

At the very least, she hadn't caused any trouble in his absence.

Vorden had been gone for just a day, yet miraculously, the place was still intact.

Perhaps his threat to lock her in that newly purchased cage had left a lasting impression—if she even had a brain to process it.

Don't want to be touched, please.

But back to the matter at hand.

These two had managed to reduce their mansion to rubble—all within a single day. Over what, exactly?

A VR game.

A game within a game. Truly outstanding.

Now, rather than dealing with the consequences themselves, they had scurried over to Vorden's home, seeking his help in acquiring a new house—one located within the main city.

A terrible idea.

But what choice did he have? If he refused, they would move into his home. Terror!

This, he realised, was what parenthood must feel like—dealing with three reckless children who excelled at catastrophe creation.

After much deliberation, Vorden begrudgingly agreed.

Houses in the main city weren't cheap—some verged on a million Biel.

Nobility estates were even pricier, though they retained an ancient aesthetic laced with cutting-edge technology.

Vorden's own home, while grand, wasn't quite noble-tier.

It was one of the wealthier residences within the city, but nothing extraordinary by comparison.

Regardless, after some effort, they finally got in touch with a housing agent—who, like a ghost, materialised at their doorstep the very moment they confirmed their interest.

The man held a translucent tablet, his expression plastered with a grin so wide it rivalled that of a scheming bamboo spirit, plotting its great escape from captivity.

One had certainly encountered this type before.

"Shall we proceed, good people?" the agent inquired. His voice oozed with rehearsed charm.

Vorden, from experience, recognised it immediately—the hallmark of a seasoned salesman.

The agent led them to a second-rate Residential Zone.

According to his categorisation, first-rate was where Vorden lived, while special-rate was exclusive to nobility.

Third-rate was the lowest of all—dirt-cheap and crime-ridden, home to some of the most infamous criminals in existence.

Upon arrival, they found themselves in a desolate, eerily quiet neighbourhood.

The few people who roamed the streets looked more impoverished than church mice—some acting so erratically it was difficult to tell whether they were lost or simply unhinged.

As they stood before a rather impressively large vacant home, two men passed by, whispering to each other:

"Mate, we need to get out of this place soon."

"I know. It happened again today. That's the fiftieth theft case—just today! This month alone, we've had over three hundred reported burglaries and pickpocketing."

"Even the Bureau's sick of coming here every bloody hour."

Vorden's eyes darkened. He cast a sharp glance in their direction.

'Fiftieth theft... today? Three hundred cases in just this month?'

It was shocking.

He had never heard of such rampant crime anywhere.

And this was supposed to be a second-rate Residential Zone?

Meanwhile, the agent continued his pitch, smiling as he outlined the "incredible features" of the home, detailing why they simply had to take it—and most ludicrously, claiming that this area was safer than even some first-rate zones.

What an absolute bomb of lies.

"Are you certain this is a safe area?" Vorden interjected, cutting off the agent mid-speech.

The man flinched—just slightly—but enough for Vorden to notice.

It was almost as if he'd just realised Vorden might have caught on.

Meanwhile, his two siblings were utterly oblivious, still lost in a heated debate over the dimensions of the house, as though square footage mattered more than the rampant legendary crime in this area.

"...Of course," the agent finally answered, though the hesitance in his voice betrayed him.

Vorden didn't even need to second-guess—he knew a lie when he heard one.

Fixing the agent with a piercing stare, he leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a cold, almost lethal tone.

"You'd best tell the truth. I'm quite skilled in decapitation."

The agent's face paled.

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Beads of sweat trickled down his temple as his eyes darted between Vorden and Sky, scanning them from head to toe.

And then—suddenly—Amy burst into uncontrollable laughter.

She doubled over, slapping her knee, hardly able to breathe.

"Oh—oh my god, you two—"

At that precise moment, two ragged-looking children sprinted past them, vanishing into a nearby alleyway.

Vorden barely caught a glimpse of them, but he did notice one very crucial detail—

They were clutching bundles of fabric.

A chilling sense of realisation crawled up his spine.

"What... are you laughing at?" Vorden and Sky demanded in unison, glancing at Amy—only to notice she was now assessing them just as the agent had.

Their confusion deepened.

And then—they looked down.

"...Eh?"

An eerie silence followed.

Their eyes widened in unison, horror creeping into their expressions.

They were stripped of all their clothing, left standing in nothing but their underwear—their toned physiques fully exposed to the world.

A gust of wind passed.

"AHHHHH!"

Their synchronised scream echoed through the entire damn district.