Cybernetics are a common sight across Anogwin. Many people lose limbs and body parts in dangerous events. Attacks from monsters, bandits or gangs, natural or magical disasters, and work accidents are only a few examples. The loss of a body part leads to the need for a cybernetic in order to keep functioning. But cybernetics have a cost. Every cybernetic draws on the user’s Mystwell. For a mundane (non-caster) the cost means very little. But for any kind of casters and many other types of Adventurers, this cost can be almost as crippling as the missing limb.
I should have gotten used to darkness by this point. I would say that I felt at home in the shadowed void because of the darkness in my soul or something edgy like that, but no. This was long before my spark of hope was quashed, and I became a moody, brooding edge lord. At this point in my career, I was getting really tired of coming out of unconsciousness to total darkness. It only put me in a worse mood when I came back to reality in a state of full-body aching.
Every inch of me was in some degree of pain. I also felt sick. Like something nasty had been pushed into my body to fester just under the skin. But something more was wrong. While I could feel what must’ve been a blanket over me, reaching up to my neck, I couldn’t feel the soft surface on my right foot and arm. First came confusion at the lack of sensation in the limbs. Then I remembered what happened, and I shot into a sitting position with a shout of panic.
With a quick inspection, I found myself in my room in the safe house. The lights were off, but I could see everything without issue. My room was a total mess. The crafting bench was littered with parts and scraps in such disarray that I would never leave behind. Clothes and blood-stained rags littered the floor. A ruffled pillow and plate covered in crumbs sat on my writing desk, and a wrinkled blanket sat was draped over the skewed chair beside it.
I looked down at where my right arm had once been to find a large metal cap on my shoulder with nothing below it. In a panic, I threw off the blanket to find that I was totally nude, and a metal cap was mounted to where my right ankle had once been.
I heard someone shout, “I think he’s awake!” followed by the sound of several sets of thundering feet. Before the door opened or the light switch was thrown, I was already crying. Navor threw the door open with a slam and forced the light switch to the on position with enough force to shatter the face plate. The Master rushed over to me with a worried expression. Ferris followed closely behind her to stand beside my bed as well. Following Ferris, Kharmor hurried into the room to stand next to my workbench. Demierra, Zynna, and Ozwald peered in through the doorway but did not enter.
“How do you feel, kid?” Master Navor asked as she sat on the side of the bed and inspected my shoulder plate.
Suddenly, I was aware that I was naked in front of three women, and I hurriedly covered my man-bits with a blush. But I kept crying. “My…arm. My foot. Their…gone.” I sobbed.
“I know. I know.” Navor cooed in sympathy. “What do you remember?”
“I…” I started, pausing to think before everything came rushing out. “We went in. Things went wrong. Ghouls. Elemental. Attacked. The hacker… was an Arachnyte. Then… Cannibals. And a nightmare. The creature chased us. Then… Regs. Regulators chased us. We crashed and…” I started sobbing again, holding my face in my remaining hand. I tried to catch the tears, but one hand wasn’t enough.
I wasn’t whole. More broken than ever. Before, it was only my mind. I could hold the shards of my mind together with medication and diligence. But no medication could solve missing limbs. I had lost who I was. Broken. That word echoed in my mind, louder than ever. ‘Broken. Broken. Broken. Broken. Broken. Broken.’ That single word consumed my mind. I fell into the mental void until Master Navor spoke again.
“Do you remember what happened next?”
I was shocked back into reality by her words, only to struggle to dredge up the memories. “I… cut it off. My foot. Oh gods!” I screamed. “I cut off my own foot!”
“It’s okay, Iver.” Navor calmed me, stroking my hair. “You made the choice so you could fight. Right?”
“I… Nel saved me. She saved me from That Bastard!” I snarled the last two words and spat them out like bitter poison. “She saved me, only to get hurt.” Then, I truly remembered that moment. “Is Nel okay?!” I demanded in panic.
“Shh.” Navor cooed. “She’s alive. But she hasn’t woken up yet. We need to find a doctor that can put her together. Do you remember what happened after that?”
Knowing that Nennel was still breathing calmed me from the burst of panic, but I still wasn’t okay. “I… I remember… Rage. Terror. Dread. Hate. And blood. So much blood.”
“Details, Iver. I’m sorry for making you go through it all again just after waking up. But I need to know exactly what happened. Ferris only told us so much, and we need to know as much as you can remember.”
“I… Could feel the blood. I could feel like… like a limb.” At the word ‘limb’ I lost it again, breaking into body-wracking sobs. At some point, while I cried, Ozwald and Zynna left. But Ferris, Kharmor, and even Demierra stayed. After a few minutes of crying, Master Navor brought me back to the present. “Iver. What do you remember about the blood and…after?”
“I... It’s hazy. Foggy. But I remember. Controlling the blood. It was me, but… more. I used it. Wrapped it around my weapons and myself. Armor. Weapon. It was everything then… and more. I had blood. I wanted blood. I wanted his blood. But… someone got in the way. She… got in the way.” Moments flashed through my mind.
A female Regulator. Her fighting Ferris. Her fighting Demierra. Her jumping in the way of my attack. Then…
“I killed her. Oh gods! I murdered her!” I howled like some mad dog.
“I killed. I killed. I killed. I killed.” I repeated as I relived the memory again and again.
I was shocked out of that hellish pool by a vicious slap from Navor. My head was thrown to the side, and my cheek burned with the pain.
“Stop it.” Navor whispered in chide. “Yes, Iver. You killed someone. But you killed more than just her.”
My gaze that had been locked on the blankets over my lap snapped up to lock onto my Master.
“Yes, Iver. During that chase. When you were trying to get away, you killed two Regulators and sixteen bystanders.”
“No.” I denied.
“Yes, Iver. When you set off whatever bomb you made while you were running, you killed several people. The building ruined by the blast was a work office. That blast burned up ten people, and it caused injuries that led to the death of another six people. And that’s not including the other eight Regulators and twenty civilians killed by the stigmaguant.”
“I… I didn’t mean to-” I started, but Navor cut me off.
“Everyone, leave.” Master Navor snapped to the rest of the room. She turned back to me once everyone else left the room but me and her.
“You might not have meant to, kid. But you did. How many times do I have to tell you that your choices and actions have repercussions? You led a monster out into a populated area and threw an explosive into a populated street. And that’s not including the poisonous gas you let out that hospitalized dozens of people.”
I raised my hand to clutch my hair, only to find something hard in the way. I fingered my way around the blockade without a second thought and started yanking on my hair as I curled into a ball.
“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to. I recited in a desperate hope to undo the damage I caused. When I knew nothing changed, I shifted my morbid mantra to something I felt true deep down in my heart. “I should die. I should die. I should die. I should die.”
Suddenly, there was a force on my head from my brow, yanking me up to look at Navor. This time, she didn’t slap me. She punched me with a solid cross hook that connected with my jaw. I welcomed the pain of the blow because it had a grounding sense, bringing me back to the reality I had been mentally fleeing. After the punch, Navor let go of what must’ve been my horn and slapped me, then backhanded me and slapped me again.
“Don’t you ever say that. People die, Iver. It’s just the way of the brutal world. You joined the Order, so you had to kill at some point. Was your first hands-on kill a tragedy? Yes. But you can’t let that define you. Find something, a goal to push towards. What do you want, Iver?”
“I… I want…” I shuttered as I grasped for anything I could call a goal. I clutched on the first thought that came to mind, and iron laced through my stuttering voice when I spoke next. “I want… I want Thallos dead.”
“No!” Navor snapped at me. “If your final goal is murder, then your path forward will be full of nothing but blood and more bodies. That is not the way of the Order. What do you want to achieve or become that will better both you and the world around you?”
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“I… I don’t know.” I muttered, lost in my own mind. Tears still streamed down my face as I desperately tried to think. What did I want beyond killing Thallos? Was I more than that goal? Could I be more than a murderer?
I thought about who I was. What defined me? What was I beyond my drive for revenge? What was my final goal, whether I killed my uncle or not? I didn’t know, and Master Navor must’ve read that on my face.
“Iver, you are more than what Thallos did to you. You are even more than your mistakes.” She cupped my cheek in her hand and gently guided me to look at her again. “What makes you, you? You're a brilliant inventor, a skilled fighter, a clever leader, and a kind soul. First, don’t ever let that last one die. Kindness is a rare thing this world needs more of. But what could you reach for that would include at least one of those other traits?”
While my face was angled toward the Master, my gaze fell downward, staring at nothing in particular. I asked myself that question again and again. I thought hard about what I could become that didn’t revolve around blood, death, and hate. Navor shocked me out of my endless loop of thoughts with a simple question that gave me the answer I needed. “Do you want to be a Hero?” Her words were kind and warm even as she looked at me with a grandmotherly smile.
Every kid wanted to be a Hero. Someone who stepped in at the darkest hour to save the day. A person who did the impossible and gave everyone around them hope. Could a Darkling become a Hero? I had never heard of a Darkling Hero, but there had been hundreds over the ages, and many more that were forgotten. Becoming a Hero was a childish dream. I wasn’t some eight-year-old thumb sucker clinging to his blanket. I did my best not to think about Sasha, my own safety blanket that I still used in secret. The goal was something so infantile, only slightly more realistic than becoming a Super Hero. Heroes were almost always chosen by a God and foretold by fate. There was no way that I was foretold by anything, given my total lack of Fate Myst Affinity. But could I still become a Hero? Could I save the day and give that hope that so many in this world so desperately needed?
I closed my eyes and answered with a single nod.
“Iver, I have no doubt that if you push as hard as you can and make careful choices, you can become a Hero. But I have a simple question that can be put in a few different perspectives.”
I opened my teary eyes to look at Navor’s stern face. “Look, kid. I know things are hard. I know that you would eat a bullet just to escape this shame. But are you so jaded that you can’t see? Your story lives in that suffering and strife that life puts you through. Make this goal the purpose to live and breathe for. You want to be a Hero, right?”
I nodded.
“If you want to be a voice for the voiceless, you’re going to need to scream to show that pain. If you want to give hope to the hopeless, you’re going to have to suffer in the darkest places no one will go. Will you turn your own light out? Or will you shine like dawn to guide others? Will you fall apart? Or will you fall into the place where you can do the most good? Will you break down? Or will you break the chains you think you have weighing you down?”
With each question she asked, I found my answer inside. With each shadow of doubt, I lit an ember of determination in my chest. I could do better. I could reach higher. I kept telling myself this even as Navor continued.
“Look, Iver. I know that you’re standing on a ledge. You’ve made mistakes, and you don’t think you can move on. I’ve been there. But you never know what could have been, what you would have been if you had just held on. You are more than this crap that you’re enduring. You are more than your mistakes. More than your fears and doubts. All this pain is that Hero forming deep inside you. So, Iver, will you write that story?”
Navor must’ve seen the fire in my eyes because she gave me a bright smile before patting me on the head and leaving the room with a simple “I have faith in you, kid. When things get rough and times look dark, just keep these words in mind: When ashes fall, Heroes rise.”
After the Master left, Ferris slipped into the room to stand beside my bed, looking awkward.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, refusing to make eye contact.
I flashed my friend a sad but morbid smile as I said, “Like I’m in pieces. I guess I know what an action figure feels like in the hands of a six-year-old.”
“Hey, dude. I wanted to say thanks.” Ferris sounded uncomfortable.
“For what? Making my best impression of deli meat?”
He snorted at my joke. “Na. I wanted to thank you for saving my bacon when I fell down that shaft… And for stopping that elemental from eating me… And from getting cabobed by that schizo Regulator. Look, I think you get the point.”
I gave a light chuckle. “It’s what friends are for.” Then, a question came to mind. “Hey, Fer’. After I took that swan dive off the bridge to save Nel, and you pulled us to safety, how did you pull that off? Nel weighs like two hundred pounds. And I weigh almost one hundred on the light end. But that’s not including the gear that I was carrying or the fact that you were probably physically exhausted.”
Ferris rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. “Well, you remember those spell coins? I had one to conjure a few skeletons for a few moments. I burned it on hauling you two to safety.”
“Wow.” I said, impressed. “Speaking of Nel. How long has she been out?”
Ferris finally made eye contact, looking serious. “Ives’, you’ve been out for four days. And Nel still hasn’t come to. She’s breathing and blinking her eyes. But she’s just… not there.”
“Is she getting fed?”
“Yeah. Zynna and Kharmor take turns feeding her broth, swapping out her fluids, and cleaning the waste.”
I gave a sad but relieved sigh. At least Nennel was alive and being taken care of. I would have to look deeper into her state. But first, I needed to deal with myself. “Why is my room a disaster?”
“Well,” Ferris started, looking nervous again. “Things were looking pretty bad for a while. You were bleeding a lot when you came in, and we couldn’t take you to a hospital because, ya know, terrorist.” he winced at the last word before hurrying to continue. “You weren’t taking well to the healing magic, even after scans and careful myst alterations. The Life Myst kept causing some kind of infection that we had to clean out over and over. We had to use fire to reseal the wounds before capping them off.” Ferris pointed to my desk. “That was all Kharmor. He threw together the covers that are on you now. We needed to cap off the joints to keep them protected, so… yeah.”
I gave a heavy sigh. “Yeah. I get it. I’m guessing you were keeping an eye on me?” I pointed to the desk topped with the pillow and dirty plate.
“I took turns with Kharmor. The plate is his.”
“Kharmor?”
“Yeah. Actually, he wants to talk to you about something. I’ll step out and tell him he can talk.” Ferris hurried from the room, clearly upset by my state.
While I waited for the Half-Dwarf to enter, I looked down at my lack of a dominant arm. The only way I could’ve been more crippled was if I had lost both arms. In the state I was in, I was useless. I couldn’t fight, couldn’t craft, I couldn’t even walk.
My bald Dwarven friend stepped into the room with a book held to his chest. It was then that I realized that Kharmor really was a friend.
“Hey there, buddy.” He said with a nervous note.
“I’m fine Khar’… mostly. I can’t say that I’m in one piece. But I’m fit enough to talk. What do you have there?” I pointed to the leather-bound book he held.
“Oh! It’s the book I mentioned before you left. But I guess it’s more pertinent than ever at this point.”
“Pertinent?” I asked.
“Uh, yeah. It’s a work published by a CyDoc, Mallorick, and Mystgenist here in the city. He’s an Elf named Lind Dragh. I don’t know anything about his past, but this book covers a combination of advanced cybernetic theory and unique philosophies and ideology around cybernetics and body augmentation and how they are an improvement on the person, not a replacement.”
“I, uh, wow.” I stammered in shock. “That sounds seriously interesting. I’m going to need to dig into it. Do you have any idea where he lives or works?” Despite the shock I felt, I was quite curious. I was always hungry for new information to improve my crafting skills, and cybernetics was an extremely critical topic at the moment. And if the Lind guy lived in Grimvale, I would have to visit him to dig deeper.
“I can’t say that I do. I’ve only touched the book, but it seemed like something you would be interested in. And with this whole…” He nodded toward my missing arm. “Ya know, missing parts thing. I thought it was even more important. I already have a simple replacement foot put together for you. It’s not top-tier quality, but it should be enough to get you around the house. I’m also offering my crafting services. If I can make a new arm for you, if you're willing to guide me through the process, I’ll gladly help.”
I chuckled and gave Kharmor a sad smile. “I might take you up on that. I would definitely like that foot to be installed as soon as possible. Is it cybernetic or prosthetic?”
“Prosthetic.”
“Got it. Well, hand me the book. I want to dig into it. By the way, is there any way I can get some food?”
“Oh! Yeah. Dinner in bed can be done.” He said with a burst of energy at the change of topic. “On the menu for tonight is whole-baked duck with herbs and a side of baked potato and greens.”
“Wow. That sounds fancy.” I commented.
“Honestly, the only fancy part is the duck. Navor told Zynna to splurge since you were awake.”
I gave an amused huff as I took the book from Khar before he left. I checked the time to find it was three in the afternoon. Without any preamble, I cracked open my new book.
The embossed title on the brown leather cover read ‘A New Age of Change: Leaving the Old Phantoms of the Machines in the Past’. The title was a bit wordy, but when I started reading, I became totally consumed. Lind was some kind of abstract genius. He provided examples of how to enhance standard cybernetics throughout the book and that was only the tip of the mass. He explained his concept of bio-synthetic mechanisms used to emulate standard limb function but with alterations to grant massive improvements. An arm that could function without a standard drain on the Mystwell that could still grant super strength was only the simplest example of his ideas. These ideas were astounding, and his philosophies were life-altering.
‘To lose a part of one’s body is to lose a fraction of one’s self. This is a part of yourself that will never be regained unless you have immense resources. But rather than spend a fortune growing a part of yourself that will never feel correct, why not improve? If an arm is lost, you have lost a shard of yourself, body, mind, and soul. But to take a new part, a better part, to replace what is missing, you can become more than you once were. You could be a better worker or warrior. You could ascend above those with bodies only of flesh.’ This was only a single section of what I read, and it had a feeling of unshakable truth that gave me a sense that I could still be myself even after this damage, but better.
I had always been a fast reader, but this book was more gripping than any fiction I could ever find on the shelf. I devoured page after page. In total honesty, I was desperate for distraction. I wanted to do anything that would let me not actively think about my incomplete body. The fact that this outlet was also productive in more than one way made it my crutch. I was so engrossed in the book that I not only missed someone knocking on my door, but I was totally unaware of someone leaving my dinner on the side of my bed. I only stopped to devour an entire duck and every scrap of food down to the last spot of grease on the plate. After eating, I returned to the book and kept reading through the night.
My drive to read was more than just catharsis in the form of intriguing theory and philosophy. I not only needed to get myself a new arm of as high quality as I could find, but I also had the driving goal to get Nel into a condition better than she had ever been before. I wanted to build her a body so powerful and advanced that she could hold her own in a fight like the one that ruined her. I refused to let my sister remain frail and traumatized. I would fix her.