Watching as the spaceship turned into a fireball was somehow a cathartic experience for Vern, who found himself looking on with awe.
“Airborne Serotonin injection completed. Airborne Dopamine injection completed. Airborne Oxytocin injection completed. Imminent death calming module completed.” Came a robotic voice from the console in front of Vern.
“Ah, that’s why,” Vern blissfully knowledged with a nod, his lips curved pleasurably across his face forming prominent dimples. Coming alive, the belt buckles sprung across Vern's chest and hips, fastening him in as the cockpit began to shake violently. “Thanks, buddy.”
Soon the swirling vortexes of black clouds that washed across the violet planet grew larger, engulfing the cockpit with bursts of what looked like lightning cascading across the flight deck windshield. Bursts of light flashed, and purple sparks ignited, but only seconds later the clouds were clearing, and the ice-capped peaks of mountains came into view across a mostly desolate-looking planet. A landscape of twirling purple mixed into ash and sand like some kind of chocolate bar stretched out for as far as Vern could see, with vein-like rivers snaking across its surface like an elderly, varicose’d limb
It was probably just the drugs, Vern knew, but he had come to terms with his death as the ashy, purplish ground speeded toward him. “Oh well, so much for being a devil.”
Suddenly, the massive spaceship jolted and sputtered, whipping Vern’s head back and forth. The yoyoing of his head was far from pleasant, but another mist of something sprayed into the cockpit quickly subduing any pain that had begun to mount.
“Atmospheric autopilot engaged,” returned the robotic voice, and a second later Vern shrugged as the vehicle began leveling itself out amid chaotic lurching and sudden drops in altitude. “Unable to fully recover the vessel, engaging emergency landing procedure.”
“Yeah, that sounds about right.”
Losing altitude, the spaceship approached closer to the surface, and to Vern’s surprise, he realized that the blanket of purple was actually a forest canopy that looked to cover almost the entirety of the planet. And Vern, along with his newly commandeered vessel, was heading straight for it.
Searing pain flowed through his body and Vern awoke to a stinging heat against his back. Bone and muscle alike ached as he forced himself up and onto his knees. Vern found himself in a wrecked field of smashed and felled trees amongst a sea of twisted metal debris, most of which still burned. In the distance, the hull of the hulking vessel that brought him to the alien world plumed a toxic, black cloud and various fires could be seen raging across the shattered, metal corpse.
Vern wasn’t given much time to come to terms with his new reality, his vision still a blur as a giant flying creature came swooping down toward him with massive, fanged claws the size of pitcher’s gloves extended towards him. At first, Vern thought a giant eagle bore down on him, only to realize that it more closely resembled a pterodactyl, albeit with hellish red skin.
With barely a second to react, Vern found himself hurling his battered body toward the ground and wrapping his hand around a pole of bent metal – still scorching hot from the flames that had once engulfed it.
Agony ripped through his hand, but that was superseded by the surge of adrenaline pumping through his veins. Vern, with a newly acquired sense of survival, had no intention to wait for his mind to catch up with his body as he desperately thrashed the jagged metal rod through the air.
The first swing missed wildly, and the featherless bird dodged backward with an effortless flash of its reptilian, featherless wings. Greenish-blue eyes narrowed on Vern as if the creature took offense at his clumsy attempt to defend himself. Bowed to a point, the prehistoric-looking beast dove forward, its footlong beak shooting toward Vern like a living javelin.
However, Vern had readied himself for an attack and rolled to the side just as the diving beak crashed down on him, slamming into the soot-like dirt that covered the foreign world.
The beast's vertical pupil followed Vern, darting around hopelessly in its immobile shell. Releasing a furious war cry Vern bounced back to his feet, glad no one else was around to hear him. Taking advantage of his momentum, Vern swung around and threw his weight into the bent beam, driving it into the reptilian eye with as much power as he could muster. The alien bird cried in agony, and effortlessly sent Vern flying with a swipe of its wing. Unfortunately for it, the beast’s previous hurried attack had well and truly embedded its beak into the hard, clayish dirt, and with a pained groan, Vern had already forced himself back to his feet and was running towards the trapped beast with metal in hand.
Vern’s face had cruelly distorted now, and he let anger envelop him as he drove his metal shaft back into the already bloodied eyehole of the desperately thrashing beast, this time not allowing the first sign of resistance to end his penetrative strike, and instead wilfully forcing it through any resistance it met. The attack was successful, and Vern realized a moment later that almost the entire meter-long steel beam was now impaled into the lifeless bird, through what was once its right eye.
“S-serves you right,” Vern hissed, wiping blood from his mouth.
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“Doomdactyl slain; difficulty level – extreme. Bonus experience rewarded. Total experience twenty-two hundred.” Flashed at the top lefthand corner of his vision.
“Wait, this really is a game?” Vern muttered as he read the quickly fading text.
“Level up – level four acquired.”
“Level up – level five acquired.”
“Level up – level six acquired.”
“Oh,” Vern shrugged as he watched the notifications appear. Had he started at level three, or gained levels already without realizing it? Not that it really mattered too much, he had already gained another three, after all.
“Fifteen available attribute points, allocate?”
Vern titled his head, why not he thought, and a new menu appeared.
Infested-Human – Blood Devil – Level Six
Stats:
Strength 15
Luck 6
Perception 10
Constitution 13
Dexterity 12
Mana 8
Endurance 15
Health 22
Wisdom 8
Tech 16
Intelligence 10
Charisma 8
Toughness 12
Willpower 10
Spirituality 4
Speed 12
The list was a little more than Vern was expecting, and a few of the options sounded like they would do more or less the same thing, at least they would if they worked like the games he had played. For example; constitution, toughness, and endurance all served similar roles in different games, and on top of that health was its own thing. A little applied logic had Vern thinking that perhaps endurance was just that, his stamina, whilst toughness was how much he could withstand, and constitution was more akin to damage reduction, or perhaps measured his resistances, and health was health, but he had to test this theory. Either way, he was standing in the middle of a burning field and had just been attacked, so he figured he should probably pick quickly, and figure out the rest later.
Strength 20
Luck 6
Perception 10
Constitution 15
Dexterity 12
Mana 8
Endurance 15
Health 22
Wisdom 8
Tech 16
Intelligence 10
Charisma 8
Toughness 12
Willpower 10
Spirituality 4
Speed 20
Hastily, Vern assigned five points to strength, eight to speed, and two to constitution, with a simple thought. The reasoning was simple enough, strength was well strength, and that seemed like a pretty obvious choice. Speed was well speed, and it was basically what had won him his first fight, possibly the first of many, and he figured more would help. And finally, constitution, well he figured being more durable would be good - he might not be able to dodge all the time, after all, and a couple of points in constitution seemed like better value than a couple of health points. Of course, he might be completely wrong, but with little time to decide, and no way to test, Vern went with his gut.
Still standing in the middle of the fiery clearing, Vern knew he had to find cover, or else deal with the potential of another Doomdactyl or worse attacking, and he didn’t particularly fancy his chances of pulling that off again. However, he felt a desire to pay some kind of respect to the creature, it was after all just an animal from all appearances, and likely was just looking for a meal. Standing over the corpse, Vern crouched low, tenderly placing a hand on the Doomdactyl’s head. A hissing, almost boiling-like sound followed, and Vern hurled himself backward, but it was too late. A stream of crimson blood floated through the air toward him, following the palm he had placed on the dead animal as he retreated backward. Within seconds color left the corpse along with the blood streaming through the air and into Vern’s palm, as he hopelessly tried to shake it, as if shooing away an unwanted insect. Soon the body had been left an ivory husk as if it were the remains of skin previously shed.
“Special trait, blood analysis activated. Doomdactyl analyzed. Reading decoded DNA.” Read another message at the corner of Vern’s sight. “Mutating DNA, standby.”
“What now?” Vern mouthed in disbelief.
Seconds later, a burning sensation erupted across Vern’s back, and within seconds it had grown into agony as the feeling of something trying to rip out through his flesh tore at his back. Vern’s jaw dropped, and eyes widened, it didn't just feel like it was tearing him, it was tearing him, tearing him apart. And Vern could quite literally feel as something forced its way through his back.
“Make it stop,” Vern groaned in pain as he fell to the ground, his vision blurring once more.
The pain must’ve been too much. And when Vern finally awoke he knew it had been a while because most of the nearby flames had already burnt out; although others had continued stubbornly burning stretches of forest along the horizon.
There was a particular sensation of routine as Vern pushed himself back to his feet for the second time today. But that thought quickly dissipated as something immediately felt off. His weight, the proportions of it, it felt off. He was off. Vern didn't move like he should, his body didn't. At that moment Vern recalled the agonizing pain of his back tearing itself apart.
After a moment to steady both his breathing and his thoughts, Vern gingerly stretched out an arm and reached behind his back. His fingers crawled across his cold, sweaty skin – inch by inch until they froze. Until he froze.
“What the fuck is that” Vern shouted, his fingers running around the rigid, leathery skin that protruded from his back.