As the night progressed, Gusmos excused himself. They’d been burning through drinks, and yet neither of the old-timers looked buzzed. Des, however, had exhaustion written all over her face. She’d said it’d been a long day for her, yet she lingered. She hadn’t seen her father in months, Aleem had gathered, and was merely trying to spend some time with him before she moved out to one of the farther encampments in two days.
Aleem fidgeted with the mana suppressant on his leg. He’d wanted to ask if they could take it off, but feared that they would refuse. Especially if Tanton had asked them to leave it on. The band was big and clearly intended for a much larger person. He could probably manage to pry it open. Probably.
Haimol glanced at Aleem’s leg. “That thing’s still there, isn’t it? Tanton didn’t want you tampering with your soul schema while you were unwell. In his rush to leave he forgot to drop the key with me.”
Oh Aleem doubted Tanton had ‘forgotten’ anything.
Haimol patted his thigh. “Bring your foot here, let me see.”
Aleem quickly complied. “Why’s it so big?”
Haimol chuckled. “Rat shit quality, that’s why.” His thumbs seemed to blur and there was a soft clicking sound.
Aleem felt faintly light-headed. His eyes widened.
“Don’t look so surprised. I’m a [Turn Key], boy. This much is a garden stroll for me. Just one more clasp…”
The phrase ‘[Turn Key]’ filled Aleem’s heart with so much relief. Classes. There were Classes! Which meant—
Aleem’s vision swam the instant Haimol unclasped the suppression device. “Woah.” Haimol’s weathered hand steadied him where he sat. It felt like his senses were glitching.
“You need to control your mana, lad,” Haimol said. “Guide it.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Of course, you do,” Haimol laughed. “Your memory just needs some prompting. Close your eyes.”
Aleem complied quickly.
“Do you feel an intense calefaction in your centre?” The man asked. His finger poked Aleem in the middle of his chest. “Along this line.”
“…no?” He opened his eyes. “I’m supposed to be feeling… heat in my chest?” He touched the area Haimol had poked.
“Mm. You should,” Haimol replied distractedly.
Des moved over to their side of the table. She seemed to be considering something.
“It’s been nearly two days with the suppressant on,” Haimol said as though that were a perfectly good explanation of anything.
Des nodded slowly, still thinking. “Stay still, Two-two. I’m going to put my hands on you now, don’t be frightened.”
He nodded.
She placed a palm on Aleem’s chest.
It began like a prickle on his skin then it grew into something terribly warm. Like a bad case of acid reflux, but much more … internal. Almost as if it were happening within his sternum.
“I feel something!” he said, his excitement getting the better of him.
“Good,” Haimol said with a smile.
Des’s exhausted face had lit up. “Close your eyes, Two-two. Now, follow the heat to wherever it leads. That’s not an active application of your intent, mind you. Try to determine where the heat is inclined to go. Asking yourself ‘what direction is it moving towards?’ might help you.”
Aleem wanted to ask clarifying questions but was too eager to try it out for himself first.
The sensation was ramping up in intensity. He visualised it as a hot, viscous, colourless liquid flowing through his central skeletal structure. The hot goo wanted to move only upwards and downwards, but it wasn’t quite doing that. It had started to bubble and was sort of evaporating outwards in every direction. The sensation was akin to being both within and outside himself. It was a bit trippy.
“Alright,” Des’s voice came in once more, drawing him out of his fugue, “try to direct it into your limbs. Into your head. Guide it to your extremities.”
Aleem wasn’t sure how to do that. So he just willed it so. He held the image of the goo in his mind and decided that it should move into his arms, legs, along his spine.
Nothing happened.
A notion came to him, unbidden, to release his hold on the goo. The moment he did, the viscous liquid shot for his extremities as though they’d been propelled out of a geyser.
There was more depth to his visualisation than he’d realised. The goo wound through his skeletal structure and spun back towards the centre.
“That’s it,” Des said, excitement in her voice. “Like using a weapon after having fallen out of practice. A few swings should acquaint you.”
What kind of video game logic was—oh … right.
“Hold that sequence in your mind. Remember it. That’s how you should guide your mana at all times.”
There was less of a strain on Aleem’s body. He felt lighter. A heaviness he hadn’t even noticed before had been lifted. The sequence ran itself with minimal effort from him, the mana twisting through him in an endless loop. And while it had slowed down considerably since the first sequence, the effects were undeniable.
There was also an eagerness, a troubled readiness, gnawing at him. The very epitome of joggling your knee due to understimulation.
Aleem opened his eyes and took in what was perhaps his first true breath since waking up in Orig.
ALERT
[Mana Control] has levelled up!
[Mana Control] Level 4
Aleem flinched. The notification had just materialised in his head. His vision was completely unobstructed by it, despite everything gaining a faint cyan tint. It vanished two seconds later. His cheeks tensed under the intensity of his smile.
“Status!” Aleem declared. Nothing happened. Hadn’t the mana suppressant vibrated when he’d said the words in the tent? “Status?” he repeated with far less conviction.
“What are you doing?” Des asked, eyebrow cocked in amusement.
Aleem’s face heated. In ‘Tales of Woe’, it was called the ‘soul schema’ but that term included much more than just the system interface.
“You got a notification, didn’t you?” Haimol asked with a knowing look. He chuckled.
“Mana control,” Aleem said, nodding sheepishly. “I wanted to check my soul schema.”
“That’s simple enough. Just takes a negligible amount of concentration,” Des said. “Are you still guiding your mana?”
Aleem closed his eyes and called to mind the image of the skeletal goo. It had slowed down to a crawl, but it was still moving in the pattern she’d shown him. “Yes. But it’s much slower.”
“That’s fine. With your focus on it, you’ll find it picking up in speed. Now do you remember the impression you had in your mind? The one that told you your mana control had improved? A display of mental perception that you can both see and not see?”
Aleem tried to visualise the impression he’d had. It reappeared almost immediately. He opened his eyes and it was still there. A very transparent display, slightly tinged blue. It did not impede his vision. For some reason it didn’t vanish like it had the first time.
“You see it?” Des asked.
“Yes. But it’s just the message from earlier.”
“Try to,” she made a hopping gesture with his hand, “look behind it. I don’t … know how else to explain that. Your full schema is right there, but it’s being obscured by the new notification.”
Aleem willed the notification away. It was easier than he’d expected. Another notification replaced it.
ALERT
Attributes have successfully been Calibrated!
Beginning Skill-computation
He blinked and a stream of new characters came flowing in.
Name
NOT APPLICABLE
Race
ERROR
Age
14
Class
NOT APPLICABLE
Elevation
NOT APPLICABLE
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
ATTRIBUTES
Strength
6
Agility
15
Resilience
7
Cognition
22
Pathos
-103
Will
17
Huh. Aleem squinted at the characters. This was a lot to take in.
“Worked, didn’t it?” Des asked, smiling.
Aleem mirrored her smile, though his heart wasn’t really into it. “Thank you.”
She tousled his hair and stood up, stifling a yawn. “Calling it a day, da.”
“Sure thing, lass. Leave the cleanup to me. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Don’t stay up too late, Two-two.”
“But I’ve been asleep for almost two days,” Aleem groused. He really didn’t think he’d be able to sleep for the next couple of days. Though that, he suspected, was mostly due to a severe case of the collywobbles. Transmigration anxiety was no joke.
“You weren’t asleep,” she said, stooping to grab her flask off the table. “That’s the thing with unconscious, it’s not quite as nourishing or restorative. You still need to actually sleep. It’ll help you recover better.”
Aleem wanted to argue, but realised that he could just do whatever he wanted anyway. He nodded. “You’re right. I’ll try not to stay up too long.” He really would try. It wasn’t his fault that he already knew how that would turn out.
Des, evidently satisfied with his answer, hefted a firm leather pouch stuffed full with the obvious and fished out two bronze bits. “Here,” she said, tossing them at Aleem, who scrabbled and failed to catch the coins. They bounced off the table and fell into his lap. “Get yourself something nice tomorrow, okay?”
Her father watched her with a petulant scowl on his face, muttering something under his breath about blimming bilkers.
“Thank you, Des,” Aleem said. He didn’t know what he’d need money for, but he appreciated the gesture.
When she left the room, Haimol propped himself on his knees and began clearing the table. He kindly refused when Aleem asked to help. So Aleem just sat there, fiddling with his two bronze chits and thinking. He called up the stat window once more.
Name
NOT APPLICABLE
Jrjis was a term given to members of the lowest caste in the various Vriorian cultures. Vriorians worshipped their ancestors through the agency of a metaphysical engine called the Grand Coral. Prior to birth, mothers bound their unborn children to the Grand Coral. Jrjis, however, were those foetuses who, for whatever reasons, were not properly bound. It was believed that jrjis did not properly tether to the Grand Coral because they were unworthy. Thus they were denied the privilege of something as basic as a name. Still, though, Aleem found it a little surprising that the system interface did not at least recognise the monicker the former owner of this body had used all their life.
Race
ERROR
This one was a bit more concerning. Aleem knew that his current body was that of a Vriorian. He was pretty sure of it. Could this ‘error’ descriptor be somehow related to the fact that Aleem, who had formerly been human, now inhabited the body of a demihuman?
That didn’t feel right.
It clearly depicted him as being fourteen years old, which was well under his original age. This raised, in his mind, questions of souls and bodies. He did not know where the former began and the latter ended. Was ‘race’ a soulular construct or a cellular one? Probably just social, actually.
Aleem sighed. He’d already decided to leave the metaphysics be for now. There were more immediate needs. He had plans to draw, and for that he would need knowledge. A map of the Outpost, for one, would have been very handy, though he didn’t imagine that such a thing would be so readily available. This place wasn’t exactly a tourist trap after all.
“Haimol?”
“Huh?”
“What would a typical day for me have looked like?”
The man paused in his task of stacking cups. “Whatever you wanted it to, really.” He piled the cups into the empty bowl that had once held meat. “You’d often go over to the apotheca—you’re friends with some of the [Hag]’s girls. Like the lass that came over yesterday. Sembi.” He shook his head, a scowl on his face, “Always getting up to hazardous experiments in my stockade.”
Aleem perked up at the mention of a [Hag]. There’d been very few of those in the game, and the Class was a rather powerful one. There was only one [Hag] that’d had anything to do with Ontacreese though. Feriona Azi-anre. She had been a mentor to one of the player characters. A very benevolent and ancient woman. If the former owner of this body had some connection to her, Aleem would need to leverage that. Visiting Sembi at the apotheca was starting to look very appealing.
“Then there’s… hmm… you didn’t really have much friends your age. Whenever my grandkids, Eckle and Khov, were here, you’d all spend time at the base-library doing … Shades alone know. You used to love reading. And oh yes, you might want to check with Gutaak. She’s the oblate over at the chaplet by 2nd Quadrant.”
Chaplets were small public houses that contained monuments of worship for the gods of a region. They’d been quite common in ‘Tales of Woe’. Aleem scrunched his eyebrows. In his past life, he’d been comfortably agnostic. And while Orig did have gods, Aleem felt that there was a large gap between acknowledging their existence and being a devotee. “So I’m…” he hesitated, not quite pleased with the implication, “I’m religious?”
Haimol chuckled. “I don’t think so. Gutaak’s a retired soldier, you see. Some of the runts find her more approachable and easy to share their problems with, so maybe that’s what you got up to? Oh, and she did give you and Eckle spear lessons a couple years back, though I can’t imagine she’d have the time for that anymore. Also, Tanton made his disapproval very clear.
“Hmm. That’s uh honestly as much as I know,” Haimol said, embarrassment apparent on his mien. “You were —are— such an individualistic boy, Two-two. We usually just let you do your own thing, and that’s how you preferred it, anyway.”
Aleem nodded in understanding. “You’ve painted a good picture for me.”
Haimol didn’t look relieved, his movements growing heavier somehow. He reached for the coal burner and turned it off. “How about you go and try getting some rest, lad. I’ll leave some water out here just in case.”
His candle pan was back in his hand as he closed the door behind him. Haimol had lit it for him, using a device that looked an awful lot like a wheel lighter. Aleem had then offered his thanks and bidden the man goodnight.
Once he arrived at the junction, he came face to face with the peculiar darkness from before. He fixed his attention internally, hoping to better investigate that feeling from earlier. All he could feel was the heaving of his own chest. He took two steps into the darkness and there was nothing particularly odd about it. His candle shone within, illuminating the plain-looking stone. Aleem squinted. He was very certain he’d felt something when coming through here the first time.
He heard clinking noises from the room he’d just left, followed by what might have been light swearing. He gave the dark hallway a parting glance before moving on.
Aleem returned to his quarters, the eerie silence of the dark hallway embracing him as soon as he passed the threshold. Haimol had called it the ’guest residence’ in jest and had evaded telling him what exactly it was. Aleem personally believed it to be some kind of special gallery with its own holding cells. He was not surprised to see that the other cells remained unoccupied.
Back in his own room, he placed the candle by a corner and sat down in a lotus position with his back to the wall. He willed his soul schema forth. When he’d been looking at his stats earlier, he’d gotten the impression that there was something for him to attend to. An important notification that he’d yet to acknowledge. Before he’d even finished the thought, the window filled his vision.
ALERT
You have acquired the Skill:
[Last Breath]
+20% to Resilience
+10% to all Attributes
For what had to have been several long minutes. Aleem stared at the words [Last Breath]. It had featured quite heavily in ‘Tales of Woe’. [Last Breath] was a revelation gleaned at death’s door; a revelation so vital that it was potent enough to bring its bearer back to life. Unsurprisingly enough, the skill was a cornerstone of Thamiorite beliefs and tenets. It went without saying that attempting to brute force this revelation was a very quick and easy way to die a meaningless death.
This filled in a few blanks for Aleem while also confirming something he’d suspected from the onset. Gwa.yao.rai truly had experienced something nigh lethal. And while it followed that the Narum fellow and his group might have been responsible for that, Aleem was hesitant to reach such a conclusion. In ‘Tales of Woe’, only persons of significant power, knowledge and life span could obtain [Last Breath]. The skill represented a complex component of Orig’s magic system that neither Gwa.yao.rai or any soldier in Ontnmor, for that matter, should have been able to touch upon. Much less so if they’d been having a mere petty squabble with their fellow teenagers.
Then again, Aleem had been transported into this world with knowledge that’d yet to be invalidated in any significant way. Powers far beyond his ability to understand were at play here, so he made a note to himself not to rule out ideas simply because of how ridiculous they were. He was after all drawing knowledge from a piece of literature whose title bore the word ‘tales’ in it. Absurdity was par for the course.
A new notification materialised before Aleem, shocking him out of his thoughts.
ALERT
Strong Shadow Affinity Detected
ERROR
No [Class] Detected
ERROR
Not Eligible for Class Selection
ERROR
PLEASE WAIT
PROCESSING
Seeded Directives Detected
PLEASE WAIT
PROCESSING
He sat up straighter, eyes widening. What was happening? He read the words again and again. Another notification came up.
ˆ¨ˆø¨πø´ƒ˙π¬µ≈Ωå∑´∂ƒ∞§¶∆˙˚∆
The foreign words clawed at Aleem’s mind, screeched, pounded against, begged to enter, but something external was resisting them. A sense of … ‘greatness’ settled on his shoulders.
LO!
System Override
Seeded Directives Forestalled
You have drawn the attention of AKESHI [The Pristine Reptile]
All extraneous Titles temporarily suspended
Kindly report to the nearest Representative of AKESHI [The Pristine Reptile]
5% daily sub-Diminution of all Attributes pending report
That didn’t sound good. It didn’t sound good at all.
-1 to Cognition
Aleem let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his hair.
-5 to Pathos
Oh for fuck’s sake!