When Cog woke up, he was expecting a handful of messages to be waiting for him. Perhaps four or five warning him about sleeping with a concussion, maybe a couple about some buff or debuff based on the condition of his makeshift bed. He had dozed off on the hard ground and felt stiff all over, though his mind was more refreshed than he expected. He also had the distinct feeling that he hadn't been asleep for very long.

When his vision was filled with more pop-ups than the computer of his grandparents, he sighed. He let himself wake up for a couple of minutes before skimming over them. Most weren’t about his current statuses, though he still got a few debuffs.

[DEBUFFS

ANTILINGUAL: 0:00:00 - New Ability Unlocked: {Automatic Translation}

WEARY I: X:XX:XX - Removed or increased depending on quality of sleep

SEVERE WOUNDS: X:XX:XX - Removed once all dire wounds are healed properly

BEDLAM: X:XX:XX - Confirm All Choices to Resolve this Debuff ]

Cog blinked. Looking around, he rubbed his eyes and thanked whatever higher power might exist that he still had his dark vision. Then, he swapped to expletives as he realized everything that happened was real, and that his arm was still gruesomely attached with a massive series of stringy, exposed muscle and cauterized scabs an inch thick. He flinched at the sight, holding back a gag, and took a deep breath. At that point, the now comfortably common pattern of the pop-ups’ frequency melded in his mind with the abnormal situation, winding up with a very bizarre mental state in regards to reality.

Kicking himself both metaphorically and literally, he got back on track. It was real - that much was evident, at least to some degree.

That meant he had two goals; figure out what was going on, and get his arm healed.

[QUEST RECEIVED: We’re not in Kansas anymore!

OBJECTIVE: Figure out where you wound up early this morning.

REWARD: 10 RD, 1 OD, NEGLIGIBLE INCREASE TO MIND

QUEST RECEIVED: An Arm for An Arm

OBJECTIVE: Heal or replace your severely wounded arm.

REWARD (Heal): MINUTE INCREASE TO BODY, +1% MAX HP

REWARD (Replace): MINUTE INCREASE TO AURA, +1% MAX STAMINA]

The pop-ups startled him so harshly that he yelped aloud. They erupted into his vision without so much as a warning. He rubbed his temples and shook his head, reading over the quest. He was planning on doing both things regardless, but hey - if this system wanted to reward him for doing obvious tasks, he wouldn’t turn it away. He’d need every advantage he could get, of that he was certain.

He stood, stretching his good arm, before beginning to shift the massive rock blocking him into the alcove. As soon as it began to grind against the floor, he heard a voice call out.

“What was that!?”

He froze, mind blazing with thought.

Strangers! Could they help him? Would they help him? Would they kill him, let him find a healer, tell him where he was or even notice his presence? Did they speak English, or did he somehow know their language?

He took a few rapid, heavy breaths before shoving the boulder away with all his might, making a gap just barely wide enough for him to leap through. He saw torch light flare into his darkness-adjusted eyes. He screamed, covering his vision with one hand as he frantically turned off the ability, which had become a lime green block of painfully bright proportions until it finally shut off. After he wiped his tearing eyes, he looked to see who was carrying the torch.

It was a man - no taller than five and a half feet - with skin that almost seemed to absorb light. It reminded him of that weird, 98% black paint that was popular a couple of years ago. Something that disturbed him slightly was that, as the two stared at one another, the newcomer’s skin seemed to be… dissolving off? Clouds of the same absolute darkness as his surface were drifting up from various points like truck exhaust in the winter. He wore a highly mismatched suit - the top was a diamond-print jacket made up of dandelion yellow and baby puke green squares, and his pants were a tan, scarlet and pale orange plaid pattern. His tie was a deep purple, and it was mostly tucked into his jacket. His hands were covered in thin, camo-print gloves, and only after seeing them did he realize his arms were mismatched lengths. His torso was shorter than it should have been, and his legs were oddly long. The weird proportions made the clothes - which were plainly created for an average man’s body - leave various small gaps that let the void-esque skin peek through.

Strangest of all, though, was the fact that his head was covered in a paper bag.

Only eye holes were cut out of it, and the aggressively mint green irises flared above silver-blue sclera. His pupils had dilated to a disturbing degree upon spotting Cog, and the latter felt his heart drop.

Neither of them moved.

Seconds passed into what felt like minutes. Cog began to sweat, desperately trying not to shift his weight to a more comfortable position. His bad arm was throbbing due to its awkward pose, letting its weight tug at what few bindings it had left. It took the horrifying man a moment, but the shade’s eyes eventually drifted to that damned arm. He stared at it for another handful of seconds before returning his gaze to Cog’s.

“Xandir?” someone called.

For a split second, the man turned his gaze to the voice.

Cog took that instant to tug the boulder with the same heaving might as before, leaping inside the rapidly sealed alcove. He saw the shadow man reach down to stop the boulder, but he’d narrowly missed the window he’d needed. Cog began to hyperventilate as he leaned his back against the giant stone, and he felt his heartbeat rattle his heaving lungs. After sitting for a few seconds, his brain registered his muffled voice saying something clipped and commanding, but he couldn’t make sense of the words - they were barely perceptible as speech, most likely him replying to his companion. Cog just kept leaning against the barrier between him and the stranger, even as a series of rapidly fleeting footsteps echoed through the cave’s depths.

A sudden shifting behind him made his panicked perception narrow into a fight or flight response, and there was nowhere to flee to. The bastard was trying, and succeeding, in moving the rock! The living umbra mumbled more imperceptible chatter that Cog couldn’t make out through the foot or two of stone, but the latter planted his feet with ferocity. He used his entire body to pull the stone towards himself, like dragging a massive box. He gritted his teeth as he still moved the stone somehow, and his feet began to shift. His strength was a little high compared to the average person in the system, but it didn’t even feel as though he had any in the face of that creep’s own power.

Why can’t I put more into it? Cog growled in his mind. The damned shadow on the other side of the boulder kept talking like he didn’t need to put forth any effort. Wasn’t Cog himself some mythical creature now? Shouldn’t he have more strength?

He grunted aloud, clenching every muscle in his body, and tugged hard.

Nothing happened, aside from the pain in his arm flaring again.

His stomach sank.

He tried again, but to no effect.

Something inside him suddenly stirred, just for an instant.

Something not entirely himself.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

In that moment, he felt a brief but undeniable rush of strength and will overwhelm him, letting him slam the rock not only back into place, but squeeze it into the small indent further than it should have gone. Both it and the makeshift seam around it cracked slightly, but otherwise did not budge further. He withdrew his good hand and fell face-first onto the floor. Thankfully, his shorter stature made the impact far less painful.

Unfortunately, he had landed right on his bad arm.

Of course, at the angle he hit it, the scabs ripped open and he began to bleed again. He cursed under his breath, health bar ticking down once more; it was blessedly less than when he’d first gotten the injury, but it was still a noticeable degradation.

He heaved a shaky sigh, knowing what he had to do next. To be safe, though, he froze and listened carefully to what Plan B was saying from behind the makeshift wall. Any sign of maliciousness from the stranger meant that he’d stay right where he was and figure out another cauterization trick.

Or something.

“...Help… Not hurt… Unsure… Come out?”

The few words Cog could make out while actively focusing were largely muffled, but he eeked out the odd articulation in the stranger's words. Cog was certain that he'd misheard some words, but got the gist that the stranger was trying to lure him out under the claims the former had made; they seemingly wanting to help the newcomer, and more specifically, aid in his arm's situation.

Then, it hit Cog.

There was a void person outside who looked like a thrift shop threw up on him.

He let out an all-too-loud squeaking laugh, then covered his mouth quickly as he kept snorting. A shadow demon wearing a three-piece suit from the eighties was just too much for him at that moment. The primal fear he felt at his core dissipated as quickly as it took hold of his mind, and he shook off the remaining confusion. The person outside sounded genuine, and their eyes - upon further reflection - held no malintent. Cog shook his head, chuckling softly as he went to move the stone, then realized he had another problem.

He couldn’t move the rock he’d savagely pulled into the entrance.

He heaved a sigh, stretching his arm out. He pushed as hard as he could, and although it wasn’t moving, he could feel the potential for it to give; it wasn’t dissimilar to trying to take out a screw that you know will come out, but it just needs a solid twist or three to loosen up.

He leaned and pushed with all his might a handful of times before it finally came loose. He slowly shoved the stone out of the way as he shuffled to the entrance, looking around for the suited shade. Sure enough, the stranger was right where Cog had left him, more or less. The man’s face was mostly covered by the paper bag, but Cog could tell he was raising an eyebrow by the shift in the bag’s creases.

“You’re an odd one.” The man said, tilting his head. Despite wearing a full-head mask, his voice wasn’t muffled in the slightest. “You know, I’m not so sure I understand your kind as much as I thought I did.”

Something in Cog's brain clicked, and he realized the umbral man was talking in a specific tone of voice; like he was someone’s pet, or like a scared wild animal. It was a small tonal shift in his voice, but he knew it well, seeing as his job had him dealing with tons of different pets. As long as he was willing to take it step by step, Cog would be fine. Not like he’d bite the shadow or anything.

Not unless it got too close.

“Well, I can see you have a nasty injury,” the man continued, “and I saw the corpse outside. I’m wondering what happened. I just wish you could talk to me…”

Cog suppressed a grin, then opened his menu mentally. He did his best to maintain eye contact with the shadowy man; if he could catch him by surprise, he'd have time to prepare his reaction to bolt if he’d need to. He went through the menus until he found the Antilingual debuff’s pop-up.

[ERROR - You have the Sub-Ability {Automatic Translation} from Racial Ability {BEDLAM}.

Applying all languages…]

Cog fought the urge to make a move or sound as the man before him continued talking, though it became next to impossible when his head throbbed with a migraine that nearly made him pass out. He could actually feel pathways being made in it, like a laser printer wildly flailing across the interior of his skull. He fell on his rear, coughing ferociously and spitting out a couple balls of phlegm, blood and odd fleshy bits he didn’t want to consider. As soon as he discharged the gunk, he felt significantly better nearly instantly. He blinked at that, unable to hide his surprise.

The man - Xandir, someone had presumably called him - froze. His eyes widened, darting from the pech to the direction of the cave’s entrance, then back to Cog. The corner of his mouth twitched up slightly.

“I don’t believe it…” he muttered, then paused. “No, I shouldn’t assume. It could be one of a handful of things.” He scratched his neck, head tilted back to expose it fully, before he shifted into a casual stance.

“So. Would you like to come with me, little guy?” he asked, smiling warmly. “Odds are, you’ve just experienced something that’s truly unique, and I want to make sure you live long enough to take advantage of it.”

Cog tilted his head, confused.

“You can talk, can’t you.” Xandir said with a smirk. It wasn’t a question.

Cog nodded, then hesitated for just a moment before speaking.

“Just got the ability back.” he said, voice groggy. It sounded like his normal voice, but higher pitched and far more gravelly - like if he put on a gremlin voice changer. He didn’t show it, but his new vocals made him smile to himself with amusement; at least, until he got into a coughing fit that wracked his torso with more burning, stinging pain and a lingering soreness.

As soon as Cog had begun to speak, Xandir’s face lit up with intrigue and childlike whimsy, then understanding upon taking in what the talking pech actually said.

“So not a massively powerful pech, then,” he said, tapping his chin through the bag. “It also sounds like you had the ability before, or you wouldn’t have said ‘back’.”

He turned away from Cog, biting his thumbnail absently. It was an awkward thing to see, him not bothering to remove the paper barrier. Cog was more surprised to see that the paper bag didn’t so much as tear or get punctured by Xandir’s teeth.

Assuming he has teeth, Cog thought.

“I don’t suppose you just randomly learned how to talk?” Xandir asked.

“I can safely say no,” Cog replied. Xandir frowned, leaning his back against the cavern wall with one hand covering his mouth. His fingers tentatively scratched at the side of his bag-mask. Cog then noticed the movement didn’t cause any sort of crinkling, which gave him a bit of a start. Was it not made of paper, after all? It sure looked like a typical grocery bag.

He realized his thought process was causing an uncomfortable lapse in the discussion. Once the silence had become sufficiently awkward, he spoke again.

“Is your name actually Xandir?” he asked. Xandir looked at him in surprise, and he couldn’t help but take a slightly defensive tone.

“What, the person yelling a name in this direction only for you to turn and face them wasn’t an obvious indicator of your identity?” he snapped.

“I… suppose that makes sense.” Xandir muttered, eyeing the direction the voice had originally called him from. His hand went back over his mouth. The fingers idly tapped his mask again, and Cog could barely make out a soft impact sound. “Yes, my name is Xandir. That was one of my work partners, Noelle.”

He paused before speaking again, hand shifting to awkwardly scratch the back of his neck.

“I… was led to believe that the pech are practically mindless. I didn’t think even one could talk, much less conduct conscious and intentional thought.” He looked at Cog intensely, scanning his body before speaking again.

“I take it your instincts made you bolt into your… what, hovel? Den? Nest?”

“You aren’t exactly the most common sight.” Cog muttered meekly. “It was a bit more than instincts, and that thing is definitely not my typical home. As for you, the realization that you aren’t some eerie, maniacal shadow demon let me come out here. Sorry for the assumptions, Mr. Xandir.”

“Just Xandir is fine.” He smirked. “A shadow demon, huh? I’ve been called worse, but what about you? What are you called?”

“I, uh… My name is... Cog.”

“Cog?” Xandir questioned, blankly staring at Cog. “Are your kind named after objects?”

“No, it’s-” Cog sighed, then calmed himself mentally.

“It’s a bit of a long explanation.”

“Then we can save it for the road. I want to get you healed,” Xandir said, gesturing to Cog’s bad arm. The pech blinked.

“This can be healed?” he asked in astonishment, flinching as he had unintentionally tried to move the arm. The pain erupted in full force, and he nearly passed out from the agony.

Xandir looked at him like he was an idiot.

“Cog, anything can be healed with enough time and magic.” He said.

“You’ll have to show me.” Cog grumbled out the words in an indignant huff.

Xandir smiled.

“I suppose it is far more costly than a cavern-dwelling goblin-fae could afford.” He said, gesturing down the cavern in the direction Cog had come from. “I will insist on hearing how you slaughtered that creature outside, as well.”

Cog nodded, letting out a breath that relieved a vast majority of the stress he’d been carrying. As he began to walk alongside Xandir, he let out a bit more steam that had been building up; if he couldn’t do anything about the pain, he figured he’d at least do something about his curiosity and perturbances.

“It’s honestly a relief to find someone else. I’ve been a bit lost on everything around here, and I’m hoping you’ll help me fill the gaps in his knowledge of this place.”

“Of course!” Xandir exclaimed, hands clapping together. “I adore teaching others, and it seems as though you’ve got an excellent basis in general living. Where would you like to start?”

“Where am I?” Cog asked, tentatively.

Xandir blinked.

“As in… Around here? This cavern? The district?”

“As in the world.”

Xandir stopped, staring at him in search of some inside joke. When he saw that the pech wasn’t kidding, Xandir sighed loudly and dramatically.

“This is going to be a long ride.”