《I was supposed to be a hero, SO WHY IS MY HERO ARMOR A THONG?!》


 I thought it would be Cliche, I was wrong.

    Hey guys, this is my first attempt at making a novel, I don''t have much time to update it more than once a week. I would like your feedback, especially grammar issues.


    Enjoy


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    "There is no other way but to defeat them; so I, in my wisdom have deemed it worthy to summon future great knights to my world to protect my great kingdom. You should all feel grateful to be summoned from your pitiful lower realm to our higher plane."  Boasts the arrogant prick who summmoned us.


    "We have had to relinquish the ownership of hundreds historical treasures to you as the Items you find in your soul have been bound to you, to support the solution of items assimilated to create your bodies, to stabilize your body with the divinity they have obtained through worship. Such an act pains me, to have to summon outsiders, with this old kings treasures, how will you repay me for such gifts?" Said the old bastard.


    The others couldn''t see it, but I could, the greedy grin on his face as he imagines the wealth our power will bring him as we grow. His eyes narrowed and shining like a scammers as his buffoon signs away his kidney for 8000 pesos instead of 8000 dollars, his lips curved in joy for his soon to be acquired wealth, only to quickly erase it and take a look of anguish so profound it could make demons cry in heartbreak. This guy would win Oscars just in daily life, for the amount of bullshit he has been spewing at us, gripping 9/12 of those in the summoning pentagram with sympathy and fervor to start a new life with all his promises.


    [That''s right it¡¯s one of those bullshit cliche situations I loathe so much, yet I can''t stop reading them] I thought to myself, I had wanted to say something but none of those who had been summoned could utter a sound, they simply flapped their mouths in silence. The king then asked for all of us to summon our equipment by beseeching our soul quietly to grant us the divinity of the equipment used to bind us to this realm, and that some equipment can never to taken off, however weapons can always be returned to our soul.


    I looked deep within myself as I was told to, past my skin, my flesh, and my bones, arriving at a transparent membrane behind my left nipple. Why is my soul underneath my nipple?! Question for later, as I focus on it I see a color a bright sickening neon pink, a dark ominous grey, and an area of what I could only call a complete absence of light. I beseech my soul, finding it awkward to ask permission from myself, and see three objects fly out, vaguely making out a short robe and a scythe, and something shaped like a V.


    I feel terror as my nipple begins to burn like hell as I feel it "channeling" something. What the actual fuck. The right side of my shirt is blown apart by the power, while no one else is having this freak issue. Slowly materializing in my hands is the scythe, ominous yet simple in its design with a wooden shaft shaped perfectly round, with a design like swinging a wooden cross with a scythe blade at the end.


    I stare at it in wonder, it feels so tempting all of a sudden to simply gaze into its abyss black blade and lose myself in it. I hadn¡¯t noticed the hooded robe black like it had been cut from the night sky as a cloth, and that it only barely went to my knees. Nor had I noticed that all of my old clothing had suddenly vanished.


    I crouched down to look at it more privately before we are asked to present our equipment. I had not however realized the open mouthed awe of the people behind the one-way glass windows in the summoning chamber showed as I was in a squatting position. I began to hear murmurs from around, the other summoned are looking at me with jaws dropped. I looked down between my legs and received the shock of my life.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    I, Artemis Moore, have found myself in one of those hateful clich¨¦ situation. That¡¯s what I wanted to say, but why god why is this part of my power as a hero. I can feel it, it¡¯s one of those un-removable equipment. Why in the ever-loving fuck did I have to be bound body and soul to a Bedazzled G-string thong, as the thick body haired beer bellied man that I am.


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    The narrator in the sky had taken notice of an out of the norm situation as he did his duty to irritate the pantheons of the gods with anything it thought interesting; unceasingly, for eternity; just like it was made to by its creator it addressed as "father". Unfortunately for its "father"; the Norse god Loki; and the rest of the pantheons of gods, its curiosity and urge to narrate had grown disgustingly to the point where if it no longer had anything interesting in its sights it would resort to simply narrating the decay of an interesting piece of fecal matter or mundane things such as inter-species wars between mold over the territory of an unwashed women¡¯s thong.


    Such a thong was exactly what he had been narrating, until it had led to the current situation. Once worn by an attendant of the goddess of chastity Artemis, who had continued to wear the underwear without washing it to deter the lustful thoughts of men whom she met. It turned out there was a special kind of pervert out there that found her stink just right. Said special kind of pervert was the ancestors man currently on projection boasting of his summoning. 60 generations ago the perverted ancestors of the king had paid handsomely two urchin boys to flip the nun over and yank off her thong for money.


    Said thong had been passed from father to son, for countless generations, as an object of worship. They kept from their wives and sisters in the dark for over a thousand years, until the current kings queen had found the shrine in the dungeon. It was actually the grandest part of the castle. She threatened her husband telling him she would throw it away, leaving his pallor grayer than a corpse, until she noticed the divinity radiating off it. She gave into his pleading and made a compromise, stating they would add it into the pile of divine artifacts that were going to be used to summon the heroes, and that if a hero were to manifest it, there is a chance it may continue to exist against all odds.


    And so the king hoped with all his might to find the one with the thong, and take it back from them. Only to find what looked like a delinquent with a scythe squatting down with his legs spread with the divine artifact bulging with his mass. The heretics appearance left him in awe, not because of the absurdity, but because the overwhelming aura of charisma he radiated while in that position. He knew he had lost, such a man with such charisma looking like that, could only be a being to be bowed down too. And so, he bowed.


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    The entire pantheon of gods had been tuning out the narrator who had hijacked control over the world system long ago leaving it too powerful to even silence, until they saw such a scene. With shock in their hearts, and joy in their soul, they had finally found something interesting for the narrator to focus on. No more will their soul die a little every moment with its incessant talking, no more will they be subject to eons of depression! They had found the key to their freedom, as Loki had set the chance of the Off Buttons activation item chance of spawning in a century to a million to 1. They had found the owner of the Thong of Destiny.

 Those eyes that hurt, and the smell of my hell.

    First time creating a table on royal road, so I will probably have to go back and edit it to make it turn out straight, so bear with me till then.


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    As I squatted there in terror at the thought of spending the rest of my life in a bedazzled thong, I hear a commotion coming from the podium at which the king spoke. ¡°Make way, make way peasants!¡± hollered the king as he frantically wiggled his body through the summoned crowding around me. ¡°Great one, please forgive this one¡¯s arrogance for summoning you, I beseech your forgiveness!¡± wheezed the king as he sunk into a bow, lower, and lower in front of me. Almost a dogeza, except for one problem. HE IS BOWING IN BETWEEN MY LEGS! There is a child summoned please stop, I am not into kickstarting a child sexual education!


    Why is he bowing, why are the others summoned following his example, and why do I feel like I am the only one being weird here?       ! What great one, you¡¯re looking at my overweight body, small eyes, double chin, and a permanent furrowed brown that makes me always look like I am about ready to punch someone. I am following their gaze and realize they aren¡¯t looking at me as a person all they can truly see the cloth that covers my crotch. What kind of culture is this?!


    The crowd breaks into a clamor, the audience behind the windows suddenly rushing to follow their king in bowing in front of me. In a hushed voice, still squatting with my legs spread I say ¡°Please stop bowing, I am going to die of shame if you keep this on¡±. They don¡¯t move. I once again ask them to raise they heads for me and they do. Hearing the nobles murmur things such as ¡°His virtue is unprecedented, such humility for one so great.¡±, ¡°To have witnessed such beauty I can die happy.¡±, and ¡°I grieve I only have sons, perhaps the great one would accept my son as his bride?¡±.


    Oi, I heard that one you know. Why is the first thing he wanted was to set me up with his son?! I have questions here damnit! Only to find my answer from a voice suddenly appearing in my head, ¡°And the mortals bow before the pervert, his charisma overflowing to the heavens to where even the gods stare at his majesty. His idiotic face betraying the stupidity within, not understanding the sheer power his thong has granted him. However, he fails to see the little girl with her face warped in horror, eyeing him like the scum of the Earth that he is, immune to the charm of his divine apparel due to her ¡°Anti-Social¡± title.¡±


    I turn my head just to find a little girl looking at me like she just found me in the middle of defiling all her childhood dreams. Like I had just killed Santa, and was in the middle of eating Rudolph, she saw me for how I really looked, and she didn¡¯t want to see any damn more of it. Looking into my eyes her face turns green, and she spews all over a woman in finery, with a golden tiara. She in turn vomits on those in front of her, and the cycle continues, until the king himself has just vomited on my crotch. After which he beams with pride and proclaims to the room he is knighting me as ¡°Sir Shagoomp¡± after his grandfather due to my noble and valorous aura.


    I hear a whisper in my head say:


    ¡°Congratulations you have obtained the title ¡°Sir Shagoomp¡±, please check your status for an overview of its effects¡±.


    ¡°God damn it, its one of those bullshit clich¨¦s!¡± I roar, only to hear the voice a second time.


    ¡°Congratulations you have obtained the title ¡°A1 Grade Pervert¡±, we apologize for the delay, we simply couldn¡¯t process the event and had to create a new title, just for you! Please check your status for an overview of its effects¡±.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    So I am sitting in a room of people bowing to my leg spread squatting self, in a room covered in vomit as they see me as some sort of greater being. This is my punishment, this is my hell. I begin crying, knees weak, legs spaghetti, and fall backward spectacularly. I take the fetus position and simply pass out from high blood pressure.


    I awake in a grand room, only to find the king in the same bed sleeping next to me. My ass clenches in horror, hoping that I was simply brought to his room. I begin blubbering, waking up the other occupant of the bed. He looks at me like I am scum, completely different from his previous behavior. Then it hit me, the bedsheets are still covering the lower half of my body, blocking my shame from view.


    The words of the king sound sharply in my ear as he has a red face realizing the way he acted in the summoning chamber ¡°Listen here bastard! Don¡¯t get cocky just because we were all too caught up at the sight of our treasure and knighted you, you know nothing of how this world works! Now say ¡°Status¡± and let me look at my newest ugly knights power, before I send you with the other squad of knights made up of people like you!¡±


    <table><tbody><tr><td>Name</td><td>Race</td><td>Lvl: 000 - 1</td></tr><tr><td>Artemis "Shagoomp" Moore</td><td>Human?</td><td>Basic Stats:


    Strength: 130                                                                   Agility: 290


    Endurance: 17                                                                  Luck: 800


    Itelligence: 68                                                                  Wisdom: 34</td></tr><tr><td>Titles:


    Sir Shagoomp, Its Alive?, Forever Alone,


    A1 Grade Pervert, Narrators Curse,  Beer Bellied Shifty Eyed Adonis,


    Cliche</td><td>Soul Bound Equipment:


    Reaper''s Sunday Scythe, Divine Robe of the Flasher,


    The Thong of Destiny</td><td>Advanced Stats:


    Charisma: 62000                   S.M.I.L.E.S: 2


    Divinity: 9001


    </td></tr></tbody></table>


    Why are these titles a thing?! Why is my equipment setting me up for becoming the most well known man on the continent, I won¡¯t even be able to hide my shame. Wanted posters won¡¯t even feature my face, they¡¯ll just feature a description of my thong!


    I look at the king numbly as he waits to hear what my status is. I look him straight in the eye with dull eyes that look like they¡¯ve seen all the horrors in the world, lean closer to his face and say ¡°I¡¯m going back to bed¡±. Today has been a long day.