Time seemed to slow to a crawl as shadowed blades of magic tore toward the doctor. Tachypshychia, he idly noted the name of the phenomenon. It was the brain's way of kicking itself into high gear with a flood of neurochemicals. It was supposed to occur in soldiers and cops, not in a normal person like him.
The wispy blades inched forward. Strands of shadow, like a dense mist, dripped from the constructs, eating into the concrete below. If they touched him, he'd die, but he already knew that. He'd already seen what it could do.
To his side, a young girl, Maria, cried as blood leaked from her side. The note hung in the air uncomfortably.
John White was stuck at a crossroads - frozen between two terrible paths that he did not wish to proceed down.
He angled his head, moving through what felt like molasses to look up at the sky, blocking the chaotic struggle that raged around him from view. He held back a sad chuckle. How had it come to this? Where had it all gone wrong?
Magic stirred in his soul, not the result of a Skill but something greater. A cascade of memories, almost physical in their vividness, banged around in his skull - the answer to his question. Despite the encroaching danger and his half-hearted protests, they washed him away in a flourish of magic, forcing him to leave the physical world behind for a moment that seemed to stretch on forever.
Back when it had all begun, on the dreary night the System had teleported him and hundreds of other people onto the streets and reshuffled reality, he had not known what to do. Nothing more than survival had colored his thoughts.
That was until he saw Jose, the father of one of his patients. At that moment, his shock fell away, and an idea took root in him - one that threatened to drag him to hell.
He, like always, would try to save as many people as he could.
In over his head, Doctor White led a group back to the hospital. It was slow going; no one listened to him when he spoke, and they almost got eaten by monsters half a dozen times, but it was all he could do to help, so he persevered.
Finally, when he got to the hospital, he was met with the shock of a lifetime. According to the stories, Clover had somehow launched himself from the building’s third floor and beaten a monster to death with his bare hands.
The magic animating the memory skipped, not finding any purchase in the scene. In his veins, his Blood Affinity shifted, searching for a new form, trying to crystalize into something greater.
This scene was not what it needed to propel it to new heights.
Guided by a strange magic, he remembered back to when he had walked down the hospital’s dark and flickering hallways, searching for survivors. Tucked away in odd corners of the building, hiding from the monsters that now haunted the night, there had been many. Their efforts had made an impact. Their efforts had saved many lives.
However, that was not what had stuck out to him the most about the night. Worse than any monster, alone while searching the building, he found something. Or rather, something found him.
From the ceiling, a Skill Stone - a tight bundle of wood, flowers, thorns, and clovers that wound together to approximate the shape of a dodecahedron - fell, landing directly in front of his feet. He stared at it incredulously, not believing what had just happened. Stones, or rather magical bundles of plant matter, weren't supposed to fall from the sky, and even if they were, there weren't any monsters in sight that could have been the source of the Skill Stone.
With the benefit of hindsight, he had been right to be suspicious. He never should have touched that Skill Stone.
When he used it, he was shown something terrible - a twisted version of his future - disjointed bits and pieces of the events of the following weeks and months. At first, he had thought it just had been a strange vision - an aberration with no bearing on reality, but as the hours ticked by, the night proceeded generally in the way the vision had foretold.
In addition to a worming worry about the future, the Skill Stone granted him a Skill, one he promised himself he would never use.
Persuasion of the Cursed Forest - Lvl 0 (Uncommon)
Mix your SP and MP into your words to create a complex web that binds the target's actions. The duration and efficacy of the effect depend upon the persuasiveness of the presented argument and how far outside of the target's normal bounds of behavior it lies.
Latching on to the promise, his Affinity condensed, etching lines and patterns into his soul, a foundation for what was to come. A faint heartbeat, not his own, began to ring in his ears.
He wondered what it meant - what it implied about him that he had started off with a Blood Affinity unlocked.
The memory skipped ahead to the following morning. Like with most things, he was unsure why he had done it, but perhaps driven solely by a simple desire to help, he had organized a group expedition into the city.
It was supposed to be safer that way - safety in numbers - but it turned out that numbers brought with them a danger of their own. In a turn of events that he hadn't seen in his vision, Phil had dragged them into danger - into a fight they weren't even remotely close to ready for.
The worst part was Dr. White couldn't find it in himself to blame the man. After all, he could have stopped him. He could have used his Skill.
In the aftermath of the battle, as he stood over the dead body, an expression of horror permanently carved onto their face, he couldn't help but ask himself why he hadn't done anything.
Mind control, even in a lesser form such as with [Persuasion of the Cursed Forest], was wrong on a fundamental level, but…
As a result of his inaction, someone had died. He couldn’t shake that fact.
His Affinity - his blood - further compressed. The overall shape of his soul listed to the side, twisting into a new form.
Once more, the memory skipped forward in time, searching for further fodder. Before long, it found it. As of late, Dr. White’s life was filled to the brim with troubles.
In the other half of the hospital, he stood in front of a pair of closed doors. His hands shook a tremor that would not stop.
Outside, a deadly battle waged. The Bone Rats, as ravenous as ever, battled against the monstrous Deep Ants, brutally killing each other for the right to devour the humans that hid inside the hospital. It was just a matter of time till one of the monsters broke down the feeble barricade they had erected. Then, they would all die. Of that, he was convinced.
Or rather, it was to say that he knew they would die if he didn't do something. From the disconnected bits and pieces of the future the Skill Stone had shown him, he knew that a massive boost in power hid behind the Level 5 barrier. Maybe if he got a good Class, he'd be able to carve an escape route for the group.
Of course, there was one problem with that line of thinking. He was Level 4, and without going outside and exposing the entire group to danger, there was no way to raise his Level.
That wasn’t true. He just wanted it to be.
He glanced out the window. Hidden beneath the fighting was a corpse, someone who hadn't made it back in time and died in the monster's initial charge.
Behind the door he currently stood in front of, there were three coma patients: Daniel Lewis, Trent Niccola, and Ashley Cheung. Two were slated to never wake up again. The other, a more recent patient of his, had endured a car accident less than a week ago and was more likely to make a recovery.
He held his breath as he grasped the door handle. It was cold to the touch. In the vision of the possible future the Skill Stone had shown him, he had killed them, unlocking a power that had let him save the group.
His hand shook as he stalled, emotion warring against cold logic in his chest. Every second he spent grappling with indecision - not acting - raised the odds of them all dying further.
He let go of the handle; he couldn’t do it. He’d have to find another way to save the group. Even if it meant…
In the distance, a bell tower rang out nine times, reverberating in his chest. The monsters that had battled so fervently mere moments ago froze in place, then, with stiff movements, they dispersed, returning from where they had come.
John White collapsed to his knees in a mixture of relief and terror of what he had almost done.
His soul twisted further, and his Affinity scaffolded off the foundation the energy had earlier set in a rush of growth. The heartbeat that only he could hear sped up.
A critical mass had been reached, and the speed at which the memories passed by increased. Fast forwarding a full twenty-four hours into the future, the doctor found himself in a supermarket, surrounded by a group of scavengers.
Perhaps not learning from the disaster that was the last excursion he had planned, or perhaps being too altruistic to care, he had brought a group together with the intent of bringing food back to the Safe Zone. With how drastically the city’s population had been reduced by way of random System relocation, there was more than enough for everyone. There was no need to fight over supplies yet - they’d just go to waste if one person tried to hoard them all.
Of course, not everyone saw it that way. The store's owner, a burly man with an uneven mustache, dashed out from a room in the back with a shotgun and demanded that they leave. A brief argument ensued in which a member of the group was shot.
This time, the doctor did not hesitate. The previous day's experiences had changed him. Before the man could get another shot off, the doctor activated his Skill and yelled, "Stop!"
Congratulations! Persuasion of the Cursed Forest has reached Level 1. +1 Skill Point.
Congratulations! Persuasion of the Cursed Forest has reached Level 2. +1 Skill Point.
The sound of leaves gently rustling echoed through the supermarket. Partially to his surprise, with a blank and confused expression, the store owner stopped.
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He wavered as the Skill took a toll on him, draining his energy. Not allowing the strain to show on his face, he forced his back to straighten as he took advantage of the silence, interjecting his own words before the arguing could start again.
He had broken his promise, and as a result, he had saved a life, possibly two.
In his soul, his Affinity surged once again, continuing to form a structure that defied the limits of geometry. The structure began to beat like a heart, almost imperceptibly expanding with every stroke.
In a rapid-fire manner, he watched snippets of memories as he gradually came to use the Skill more and more. It was never malicious, only to help them take actions that were in their best interest or to settle frivolous conflicts. With each use, he felt himself slide further.
His affinity fed off the contradiction in his morals, growing stronger.
Finally, as he skipped forward in time once again, he felt that he was nearing the end - whatever magic that swirled in his chest was nearing a tipping point. And, he suspected that however slow time had passed to his perception, in the outside world, the blades of shadowy magic were still cutting toward him.
Savoring the last moments before he had to make a decision, he nostalgically recalled how the gravel had crunched under his feet as he had walked alone on the third day, tracing a path he had followed hundreds of times before.
In front of him, on a slight hill, stood an old three-story building. With quick steps, he continued, passing a hearty row of oaks that lined the entrance to Mrs. Watson’s Home for Orphaned Youths. A faded gray birdhouse hid in the shortest tree’s branches.
It would have been a picturesque scene if it weren't for the hastily boarded-up windows and barricaded entrances that marked the building. Oh, and of course, the monsters. Giant spiders loitered by the entrances, occasionally pounding against them.
Dr. White drew his knife and tensed his muscles.
A few moments later, the monsters collapsed to the floor dead.
Congratulations! Cut has reached Level 10. +1 Skill Point.
Your Class: Surgeon has reached Level 7. +3 Dexterity, +2 Agility, +2 Endurance, +2 Perception, +1 Strength, +1 Intelligence, +2 Stat Points.
He knocked on the door.
An eye peeked through the peephole.
"Johny, you came," an elderly woman, Mrs. Watson, said, her voice muffled by the wood.
The memory fragmented as flashes of the distant past were absorbed into his soul - fuel for the structure that continued to beat faster and faster.
In a flash, he found himself mere minutes before the present.
Dr. White walked down the street, carefully pivoting his head and searching for danger, as 12 children and Mrs. Watson followed behind him.
"Stop! Don't come any closer," a man with wild, bloodshot eyes yelled, blocking the way forward as he walked closer to the doctor. His shoulders were hunched up unnaturally as he repeatedly twitched, reacting to sights and sounds that only he could see.
The man spoke again with a nervous and deranged stutter, still stumbling toward the group, "You…You… You've seen it too? You've seen the forest - the ro… ro… rows of graves that wrap on forever, turning to snakes - to dogs - to elephants till the world shatters under their weight."
John White tensed as he glanced above the man’s head.
Mage - Lvl 12
He had heard a rumor of a man - a mage who had snapped and slaughtered a portion of the other Safe Zone while they had slept. His hand subtly inched down toward the knife holstered at his waist, preparing for the worst.
"Where did the bodies go?" the man whispered, looking past the doctor toward the distant horizon, still stumbling toward them. "I can see them. I can hear them calling out. Where are they?"
Behind him, the children took a step back, unnerved by the man's presence.
“Calm down,” the doctor said, infusing his Skill into his words. Leaves rustled as a surge of energy left him.
Congratulations! Persuasion of the Cursed Forest has reached Level 7. +1 Skill Point.
The twitching stopped. "How could I be calm? It's broken - the cuckoo birds broke the tortoise's shell. We're all going to be buried under sand and trees. We have to put the bird back in his glass cage before he breaks the mirror," he said in a forced monotone, his Skill's effect weakening with each word; by the end of his monologue, the Skill's bindings were at the edge of shattering.
He had never met someone strong enough to shrug off [Persuasion of the Cursed Forest] before.
Dr. White lifted his hand away from his knife. The man was obviously ill, displaying obvious signs of schizophrenia. He needed help. "Everything is going to be alright. Can you take a deep breath for me?" he said, holding his hands up in a calming gesture as he activated [Persuasion of the Cursed Forest] again, trying to nudge him toward a more stable frame of mind.
Congratulations! Persuasion of the Cursed Forest has reached Level 8. +1 Skill Point.
A current of energy was sucked out of the doctor’s body, further draining him.
The man mechanically took a deep breath and then spoke, his words clearer than before, "No. No. No. It's all wrong. It doesn't make sense. How can you be dead and alive at the same time? People don't die twice." He froze twelve paces away, his eyes focusing on the doctor for perhaps the first time.
Mrs. Watson corralled the children, dragging them backward, away from the man.
His head tilted to the side like a ticking hand of a clock. Jerking oddly, he continued the movement till his head reached his shoulder, then he bounced off of it, ticking his head toward the other shoulder. “I’m sorry. I have to save the world.” The shadowed silhouette behind the man distorted.
“What…” A blade of dripping shadow whipped toward him, barely missing. A scream rang out behind him. “Stop!” he yelled, slamming the entirety of his will into activating [Persuasion of the Cursed Forest] as powerfully as he could.
The man stuttered, tipping over precariously, but before he could fall, he caught himself. Shrugging off the command, he shuffled forward, more blades of shadow rising up behind him.
The doctor's words no longer had any effect.
In the span of seconds, the situation had exploded. Now, there was nowhere to run - not without leaving the children behind. He gripped the knife, his hands shaking. He knew what he had to do, but he didn’t know if he could force himself to do it.
He was a doctor. He was supposed to help people, not hurt them.
He swallowed a lump in his throat as he heard Maria cry out behind him.
Everyone was going to die because of him - because of his morals. He was too weak to cross the divide that lay ahead of him. He was stuck between two decisions: stand still and die a good man, or act and save the children by damning his soul in the process.
On a logical level, it was a simple equation. One life - the life of a mentally ill killer was worth less than the group's. Of course, he knew that on an intellectual level. However, he also knew that this was the first step toward becoming the monstrous shade of a person he had seen in the Skill Stone - the twisted vision of the future.
“Help me,” Someone yelled out from behind him. The words felt slow to his perception.
He dodged, narrowly avoiding another cutting arc of shadows, maneuvering himself to the side so the children wouldn't be caught in the crossfire. He drew his knife and went to throw it - with his enhanced Dexterity, he knew it would land between the mage's eyes, a painless and instant kill.
Or at least, it should have, but his heart wasn’t in it.
By instinct, not a conscious decision, he pulled back at the last second, causing the blade to go wide.
With a terrible certainty, he realized he couldn't do it - not like this. He was too weak. Guilt crashed against him in heavy waves. His selfish morals and desires were going to get them all killed. He had thrown away his only weapon - the one with which most of his Skills relied upon.
He wasn’t cut out for fighting or violence.
As time slowed to a crawl and two arcs of shadow cut toward him, he looked up toward the sky, holding back a sad chuckle.
He had just wanted to help; how had it all ended up like this?
The mass of gathered Affinity in his soul - the heartbeat that only he could hear - expanded one last time, reaching out past the confines of his body. It echoed, connecting to something - a truth - a different layer of reality, and then, the memories and magic that had taken root in his being, dyed a violent shade of red, vibrated, pulling him back to the present moment.
The construct held the power to salvage his desperate situation. However, he intuitively knew that it needed one last push - one last source of fuel before it could cement itself into a usable form.
He knew what he needed to do - he knew what he needed to become. To save them, and as many as he could in the future, he needed to become heartless, a machine that acted on logic and ignored emotion.
With shaking hands and a heavy heart, he whispered under his breath, “Kill him.” Time regained its normal course as branches and leaves rustled a calm melody.
His soul crystallized, forever changing in shape and size. The heart that only he could hear beated one last time then fell silent as a blue screen appeared.
Shard Unlocked: Heartless (Low) +5 Magic, +5 Vitality, +5 Endurance.
Consume your Blood Affinity to slow your heart's function, unlocking temporary access to enhanced capabilities. While your heart is "stopped", your speed and strength will be boosted to a supernatural level, and your ability to push past debilitating wounds will be increased. The further you slow your heart, the greater the boost will be.
Upgrade your affinity and further connect with your Shard to unlock more abilities.
He did not bother to read it. Unlike the other Skills and abilities the System had unlocked for him, he intuitively knew how to use it. It felt natural, like a piece of him that had always been there. From within his veins and arteries, he drew upon fractals of Blood Affinity, gathering them within the construct that was within his soul, finally finding an active use for them.
In his chest, his heart slowed, and his veins constricted themselves as if they were trying to strangle him from the inside out. It was painful; he could barely breathe, but he could handle it. Drawing on his Shard, he dodged the attack in a burst of speed, and then, before the mage could react, he dashed forward.
With each passing fraction of a second, his HP ticked lower, and more of his Affinity was consumed. Sliding forward, he threw a punch. A spectral hand blocked it, only becoming visible upon impact.
Slow to react, the man’s eyes widened as he stumbled backward. The man summoned another arc of shadow, but by the time it had formed, Dr. White had already ducked to the ground and retrieved his knife.
In a blur of violence, the mage fell to the ground, a dozen fresh wounds cut into his chest.
“Why won’t they be quiet?” he whispered as the light faded from his eyes.
Congratulations! Cut has reached Level 12. +1 Skill Point.
Congratulations! You have slain Cursed Necromancer (Uncommon) - Lvl 12. +800 Exp.
Your Class: Surgeon has reached Level 8. +3 Dexterity, +2 Agility, +2 Endurance, +2 Perception, +1 Strength, +1 Intelligence, +2 Stat Points.
John collapsed to his knees beside the corpse, breathing hard as he deactivated his Shard. His body felt like it had been thrown inside a washing machine. Every inch of it, from the inside and out, hurt.
Slowly, now that the task had been completed [Persuasion of the Cursed Forest]’s bindings fell away. An ocean of uncomfortable emotions came rushing back to him.
He had done it - he had killed him.
He wanted to throw up, to show some form of disgust, but he couldn’t. He was numb.
A drop of blood fell from his shoulder - from a wound he hadn’t realized he had sustained - joining the growing pool that seeped out of the man.
The drop created a small ripple. In it, his reflection was dyed red, just like his soul. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” John White said as he looked at the blurred reflection of a white cloud as it slowly passed above.
Cries of pain echoed behind him. He closed his eyes, a heavy exhaustion weighing him down.
At times like these, sometimes he wished he could be a cloud. Up there, in the sky, there weren’t any obligations or responsibilities; he could float freely with the birds for a lifetime. Oh, that’d be the life.
He forced his tired and beaten body off the ground, digging his fingers into his sides as he schooled his expression, hiding his inner turmoil behind a mask.
He took off his white medical coat, the last sign of his previous identity, and tore it, forming a rough bandage as he knelt down next to the crying child who had sustained a glancing injury.
“Are you alright?” he asked.