At this moment in time, I have nothing to do at all. I can’t play anything, I don’t have anything good to read, I’m done all my homework…

Since I’m very bored right now, I’m going to write a tale that is set in the Maple World. Please excuse my terrible writing, because this is just an effort to pass time. I don’t expect anyone to read it, or give any care for it. Also please note that I will use very generic names; as I have practically no creativity or imagination.

What is trust? How fragile it is… So hard to obtain, yet so easily broken. In a moment, even the longest relationships can be shattered in a split second…

An assassin and a bandit are the best of friends. They grew up together, played together, and left Maple Island in the same boat. Every day, they would train together. Practically every part of their lives were entwined. Most thought them as twin brothers, but they know that they are actually the best of friends.

Although they were best friends, they weren’t exactly nice people. The assassin would frequently scam noobs out of as much money as he could, and went around to killsteal others. But whenever a pro would outsmart or defeat the assassin, he would run back to his house to his mom, crying. His mother would then harshly scold the pro, which would cause them to wince in pain and embarrassment, as the assassin secretly smiled, an evil, twisted smile.

The bandit was no better. He frequently picked other’s pockets and bags. He never helped noobs. For amusement, he would send noobs to the Ant Tunnel via VIP Taxi whenever given a chance. He was also no less cowardly than his friend, the assassin. He could not stand his ground against a mere boar, let alone even face one. All he could do was run to his older sister, begging for her to kill it. He was definitely spoiled beyond normalcy.

They also frequently had contests, usually to see who could commit more, or better illicit, or evil actions. One day, they decided to see who could disfigure a slime the worst. The bandit won this one, it was full of tiny, pricked holes that were about an inch deep. As time passed, others looked at horror at them, and politely asked them to change their vile ways. Unfortunately, that was always met by a pair of evil half smiles, coupled with thinly veiled threats and much profanity.

Another day, they competed to see who could take destroy more windows at the priest’s house. That poor little man, weak beyond comparison could do nothing to stop his tormentors, who sadistically taunted him and was always able to run just beyond reach. In the end, the priest just decided to leave them be and retreated back to his house, where he commenced his repairs. As the priest started, the hooligans left, only to return but an hour later, with bricks. They then reduced all of the priest’s hard work to pieces of glass. The priest, in a rage, casted a shining ray which nearly killed the hooligans. The hooligans were sent to the hospital, and were furious after they recovered. They forced the priest to go on trial, and accused him of attempt murder. Since their families were so prestigious, the hooligans won, and the judge sentenced the priest to public humiliation by community service. They priest died of pain and shame while doing that, just a day later. No action was taken against the bandit or the assassin.

Soon, all their competitions all became evil in nature, and usually involved grand theft, larceny, or even threats, blackmailing or attempt murder. However, the bandit and the assassin hid behind their parents, and their sympathetic parents always kept them “out of trouble”. However, they never stopped, all the while as the bandit’s sister frowned upon them, disapprovingly.

Soon, the bandit’s sister called them both, and accused them of all their sins and crimes. They didn’t even bother to listen. The bandit’s sister tried again and again to counsel them, to no avail. However, she never stopped, and always hoped that one day, things would turn out for the best. But it didn’t happen that way. It became bad…

The bandit’s sister thought of that time, a very long time ago. How she handed him her personal Korean fan, a deadly weapon that was imbued with the power of seven scrolls. It was quite a rare find, and her brother was delighted to use it… at first. But later, as soon as her brother was strong enough, he switched to a Dragon’s Toenail, because he thought it was “cool”. But in reality, it was far weaker than the Korean fan, but her brother didn’t care. The sister was heartbroken, but all she could tell him to do was to keep the fan forever, and treasure it. Unfortunately, it did not become so.

That was what she thought when she saw her old Korean fan in the town dumpsite as she passed it. She picked it up, and as she stared at it, it brought back memories of the past; memories of a better time, a time when her brother was not such a fool. But that was many years ago. He has since become a monster. She shed a tear, which created a bright, crystal clear spot on the fan, which was dusty after years of abuse. Actually, after closer examination of the fan, it had hardly been used at all. Actually, it had been sitting in the dumpsite for years, waiting to be rediscovered.

That fateful night, the bandit’s sister died of sorrow. The memories she could not bear to remember anymore. The most tragic part was, on a dare from the bandit, the assassin mutilated the body with his Kumbis. It was a truly unfortunate event that two such people had to exist.