Contributing Author: Baba Vader
----------------------------------------
Trey was dead. He didn’t think he was dead, he knew it. There was no other way to describe his physical state right now. His body was prone and unmoving, with the fires of hell scorching his muscles until only crumbling ashes were left. His bones were broken and shattered into tiny shards. His blood had vaporized into steam and left his body through sweat and tears. His lungs were wrung out like a wet towel run through a hydraulic press.
“THAT’S ALL YOU GOT, MAGGOT?” Ghostface Pill-Ah shouted into his ears. The noise barely registered before Trey lost consciousness.
----------------------------------------
The familiar clicking and clacking of mechanical automatons gently stirred his mind awake. The pain was gone and as he carefully opened his eyes, he found himself in an impossible location. All around him were mechanical parts, gears, springs, screws, and levers moving in an impossible ballet. Except, the machinery wasn’t it’s normal size–the smallest piece was about twice his height.
In front of Trey was what looked like a complicated pneumatic structure, approximately ovoid in form. The pipes and tubes made it look a little bit like a brain. And, as Trey looked closer, he spotted a tiny figure climbing around it, adjusting valves and levers here, tightening a screws there.
When Trey sat up the figure turned to him. It was a remotely insectoid automaton, not unlike some of the ones he and Geneva had used in the Great Battle of the Botanical Garden. Only, it looked unique. There was nothing that specifically said there could be no copy of it, but somehow Trey knew why there could only be one.
“You’re up,” the incredibly familiar androgynous voice called, “Good. Let me just finish adjusting this…”
As they climbed over to another pipe and opened a valve, carefully monitoring a dial next to it, Trey looked down at himself. He was… human. His normal self. Why didn’t Geneva turn him into an automaton?
“Um…” he set to ask, but shut up as the insectoid machine jumped off the remarkably brain-like structure to land right in front of him.
“It’s good to finally meet you in person, Trey,” Geneva said as they reached out a hand.
“…likewise?” he replied uncertainly, shaking their hand.
“You probably have a lot of questions, but there really isn’t much to talk about. You’re currently asleep, so us aphids will have difficulty directly influencing you. We can, but it takes a lot of effort. It’s much better if you can use our synchronization abilities. So I was finalizing the design of your new brain… attachment? That's the best way to describe it, at least.”
Trey shook his head.
“Okay, but why and how am I here? And where is here?”
“Well, it’s currently my turn, and I called you here when you lost consciousness in your sleep because… well, I wanted to meet you face-to-face. This is my workshop.”
“Alright. Alright,” Trey took a deep breath, “What do we do now?”
“You train. Don’t worry, you can’t really die. Only sort of conceptually which then sort of is like death but not really? I don’t think your real body would die, but maybe your mind would. I’m… not sure. I don’t really understand this cultivation mumbo-jumbo. Or how this not-reality works. I’m much better with concrete numbers. Which is what this is for!”
They pointed at the mechanical brain with a magician’s flair and a level of pride similar to a daughter showing off her newest painting of mummy and daddy. Trey smiled, wondering if, and how much, Geneva was influenced by Daizy. Or maybe it was the other way around?
“Okay, Geneva. What exactly is that and what does it do?”
“Right,” they nodded, quickly flipping back to the countenance of an established engineer. “This is your Auxiliary Clockwork Thinker. It has three settings. On ACT 1, it removes immediate pain and exhaustion while giving you a clear number of damage your physical body has taken. If you go up to ACT 2, you will drastically reduce emotional reliance, allowing you to make calm decisions in a hectic situation without dropping your morality or desires. Really, it lets you make more effective decisions to protect those you care about than, for example, ‘taking the bullet’. Which, if I may add, is an incredibly stupid thing to do.
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
“Now, ACT 3 is much less… beneficial. It’s an emergency button that will let you pursue one singular goal with utmost perfection. Note that in this state, dismantling your loved ones is not just a possibility but rather likely, if they are in reach of your hands. Especially if those loved ones are machines. Be very careful with using ACT 3. Only activate it if you have no other option. Do you hear me, Trey?”
Trey gulped but somehow managed to nod.
“I understand. So this… ACT. Is that the [Clockwork Thought] that showed up when I ate the [Blossom]?”
“Correct! I made some improvements when I had the time and this is the result. Activating the ACT will significantly improve your rational decision making. It might even help with control here or there but I’m not certain how it interacts with the other aphids. No matter, feel free to make use of ACT 1 and ACT 2 as much as you want. They’re strictly positive. And you’ll be able to use them in this… dream world. If that’s even what it is. I would love to dissect some of the local environment to build a proper hypothesis. It’s somehow real and not at the same time…”
Trey smiled as Geneva trailed off into technobabble about how they could potentially prove, or disprove, the reality of this DREAM Sect and how much it existed.
A moment later, he started to suddenly feel light. Looking at his hands, he saw them turning transparent. Geneva looked up at his surprised exclamation.
“Oh, you’re waking up. No worries. If you see that fraudulent ‘Doctor’ again–that Hugo Hugo–tell him how lacking his technological prowess is, will you? His ‘inventions’ are incredibly disappointing, and so is his attitude. In fact, why don’t you…”
Geneva’s words trailed off as his body fully dissipated. Just moments later, he was once again overwhelmed by pain. Quickly, he activated ACT 1 and sighed in relief. The pain was now just a clear and direct panel of information.
Health Points: 007/100
Health Status: Critical damage to all muscles, microfractures across all bones, lack of hydration, severe exhaustion
Recommendation: Drink water (urgent), rest (in progress)
In fact, Trey could feel a sensation like the softest clouds of fluff underneath his body. A pleasant breeze brushed against his exposed face and rustled what had to be an incredibly light and yet comfortably warm blanket. It was like the very universe was giving him a hug.
Slowly, and very carefully, Trey opened his eyes. Above him was a simple stone ceiling with a small glowing rock hanging from its center. Turning his head, he saw a few pillars were holding up a hexagonal stone plate, somewhat like a gazebo.
He was lying in a bed on one side of the building and a simple table with two chairs stood on the other side. On the table was a crystal carafe filled with the clearest water he had ever seen. And on one of the chairs sat none other than the drill instructor from hell, Ghostface Pill-Ah, sipping tea with a serene smile as he looked out onto the field of clouds beyond the ledge.
Slowly, with deliberate grace, the man turned his head to Trey and gave him a soft smile.
Trey shuddered, immediately freezing when he saw his Health Points drop by one.
“You have awoken,” the monster in man’s skin said, “I almost feared I had misjudged you, but your potential is truly grandiose. Pushing the youngsters to their utmost limits rarely lasts this long.”
Trey somehow managed a grunt.
“Here, have some water. It will clear your body and soul from the impurities loosened by the exercise.”
Pill-Ah brought over a glass of water, a gentle smile on his face, and carefully lifted Trey’s body into a sitting position. The mortal could barely stop himself from freaking out, but thankfully, his Health Points stood steady. When the glass met his lips and the water touched his tongue, Trey’s eyes widened. It tasted of the fresh spring morning, the warm summer sun, the gentle autumn rain, and the silent winter snow. Greedily, he gulped it down and practically boggled as his Health Points rose with every sip.
His Health Status quickly turned much more positive, only adding a light fever which came with sweat dripping from his pores. Grimy, dusty, dirt-grey sweat that slid off his skin, leaving it a clean baby-pink hue.
When he finished his first glass, Trey woke up from his daze for a moment, just managing to turn to Pill-Ah before it was refilled and pushed to his mouth once again. When the third glass came around, Pill-Ah no longer forced Trey to drink but simply pressed into his hands. Trey still gratefully drank. Somewhere in the middle of glass four, his Health Points stopped going higher at 90 and the only thing left in his Health Status was ‘Great exhaustion’.
Pill-Ah nodded as Trey finally slowed down.
“The eternal spring of rejuvenation has done many wonders for our sect. Sadly, it loses much of its effectiveness for those of a higher rank, and with our lack of new disciples… Suffice to say, you and your friends will have full access to it, at least until the Tournament.”
Trey turned to look at Pill-Ah, trying to suppress his fear. The old master gave him a gentle smile.
“And do not worry. I only pushed you this hard because I knew you could take it. Rest up, now, before we begin another session. I trust you to give it your best, just like the last one.”
The fear, no, the terror was now obvious on Trey’s face.
With a gentle pat to the head, Pill-Ah stood up and left the gazebo.
Trey fell back, glad that his bones and muscles no longer creaked with every movement. The grime on the sheets was ignored in favor of lamenting his fate.
“What have I gotten myself into now?” Trey whispered, “I want to go back to fighting corruption in New City.”
Only half an hour later, as Trey’s Health Status read ‘minor exhaustion’ and his Health Points were at a glorious 99/100, Pill-Ah returned.
“That’s enough rest,” he said coldly. “Now give me another ten rounds around the sect. And this time you’re running backwards!”
Trey was on his feet and running before the flaming vine-whip appeared in the old master’s hands.