Chapter Eight - Modular Architect
The village was weary from the raid. There was death in the air, and I wasn’t able to save everyone. Ten were dead, of sixty, two of which were ritualists the interface had gifted to me after making the town hall. Their bodies, even in death, were unblemished and unreasonably still. They looked fake, close enough to humans that at a distance I wouldn’t even notice the fact they had no eyes or mouths. There was a jutting out indention of where their nose was supposed to be, and their hair was a rough blob that would change length if I stared too long.
I buried them just the same. The snow falling onto white grass made it difficult, and I had to channel the last dredges of my connection to the interface into my hands to stay warm. The coat I made out of the connection did little to actually warm me, feeling closer to rubber than anything that would actually help keep me warm.
I would have to talk to a ritualist at some point about making warmer clothes. Their ability to manipulate their connection was a lot more fine, but because of the interface I could produce worse materials at a larger scale. That was probably why the interface threw them at me, to shore up the starting weakness of my skill path.
Status, the only one of the villagers with a mouth, stood behind me ten feet as I filled the last hole. I scrunched a brow trying to remember what I named this one. ‘Sam,’ if I remembered right.
“Status, how many lives do I have left?” I called out behind me, raising and lowering the shovel. It was the most complicated single piece object I had made so far. The hole was nearly filled at that point.
“Seven remaining, hero.” They replied, shifting imperceptibly on feet that never quite remained one size. “Morale is down after the raid, but some of the ritualists wish to have another audience with you to discuss what to do with the monster remains.”
That was probably what the interface wanted me to work towards before the next raid, but it could wait. I finished with the hole, and panted heavily. Physical strain wracked my body, but the spiritual one was worse. The connection was fragile, and even trying to exert my will caused a terrible migraine and forced my hand to seize.
I still had something to push the connection towards, however, and I was going to get it done before I spoke with the ritualists. They could wait until later. I started walking to one of the first things I had built for the village. Renovated, rather, as it had existed previously.
No one was walking through the streets, but that was to be expected. I had replaced the roads a day before with gray blocks that reminded me of concrete, and after the raid I had ordered most of them to start gathering the remaining connection from the plains outside our walls so I could prepare us for the next. Four more were left, and I had used half my lives to keep the death toll down for this one. I would have to start making sacrifices, and I was the only real person here.
The buildings themselves scaled from traditional wooden lodges, to white cubes that varied in size and purpose. It was like someone slapped together an old castle-town in London and a modern architect’s sketchbook. It looked terrible, but it was really the only kind of building I could make with how my skill path worked. They were comprised of modular slabs of the same plastic-like material that made up the shovel and coat I used, and they blended in imperceptibly with the snow.
It was mostly housing and entertainment. I didn’t really need production, beyond buildings to house people, as the resources I needed were gathered from outside the village. But, I still did try. There were taverns and small clearings that acted as parks, and I would build a theater to raise morale before the next raid. And a proper guard tower, of course, to where we could take a bigger hit and come out better. I spent too long toying around last time.
Eventually, Status and I arrived at the farmer’s market close to the center of town. Most of the stalls were small, wooden, and rickety, hosting goods from vegetables and grain, to small trade goods like mirrors and toys. There was one, the first thing I had made, made of thin white brick. It had taken the expenditure of my entire connection with the interface, but it was durable, and it was the only thing that was still standing in the entire market.
I closed my eyes, and reached out, pushing my connection to the surface of my forearm to transmute itself through the runes the interface had carved. That was the first step, the next took my will, and shaped the transmuted connection into the necessary materials.
That was when the feedback got too great, and my arms locked up. I fell to the ground, shaking furiously as the connection reeled and shoved itself back into my flesh and traveled through to my chest, almost slapping me in condescension. I had expended more than I thought originally, and the blocks I had tried to summon just turned back into connection and came back inside of me like the rest.
Status put a hand on my shoulder, and helped me stand. They didn’t say anything, leaving it there. I did take a moment of reprieve, and sighed heavily as I realized my failure meant I would have to go talk with the ritualists sooner than expected.
I stepped over a misshapen corpse that reminded me of old horror movies, and started walking towards the town hall. It was easily the biggest building in the entire village, but even then it was only three stories tall and about just as long.
It was time to talk to the ritualists.
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Waking up was different than before. I had either bled out to death from my leg, or I had taken enough damage from the rot that my stomach fell out and took my life with it. Either way, it was slow, and I couldn’t see what was going on around me as it happened. I had, evidently, defeated the Shade–which earned me a notification from the interface.
[Congratulations!
You have killed 1x {Hero’s Shade_May}!
You have received the following rewards-]
Another screen had popped up, in front of the previous, and stole my attention. I nearly had a heart attack on the spot, my long death still on the forefront of my mind preventing me from really processing anything.
[Congratulations!
You have died, once again, to a {Hero’s Shade_May}!
For your fif-]
Another screen. My chest ached and my head throbbed as if I was still fighting, but my vision was clouded with green.
[Congratulations!
Skill_Path_04 has evo…]
I wasn’t reading it. I was leaning against the tree, and vacantly looking up between the leaves and into the gray sky. It was clear, the screen staying still relative to my body instead of my vision. My hands were shaking, and I closed and opened my digits to feel the sensation of flesh. Only one could provide the stimulation, and I felt lava drip down my cheeks from the lack of sensation in my right.
I wanted to go home. I wanted to hug my niece. I wanted to sit down and talk to my mom. I wanted to see the light in my brother’s eyes.
Even if I made it out, what were the chances any of my family would? Asking for one member of a clan to live was too much of an ask, why should my family have gotten the chance to prosper while everyone else’s was wiped out?
My mind cleared. The board was wiped clean with an aged eraser. For the first time, I was able to assist the process with water, but I couldn’t find the marker to properly brand my thoughts down onto it again. I didn’t realize it, but I was slowly falling asleep. I brought my knees to my chest, and let the whiteboard be empty for a while, my cheeks moist. It was made slightly awkward with the Moon Walkers sliding back with their joint.
I woke up, and just stared at the last of the three screens. Finally, I found the marker, and I read the rest of it.
[Congratulations!
Skill_Path_04 has evolved! You have received the following rewards!
* Solidified Self - The Basics of Cybernetics
* Solidified Self - Mana Conduction
* Ruined Self - Aesthetics, and You!
As well as the following abilities!
* Optical Detector for Irregular/Inefficient Neurocybertronics (ODIIN)
* Your left eye, as a gift from the interface and Skill_Path_04, has been replaced with the ODIIN cybernetic. It points out inefficiencies, and mistakes in your existing, and future, creations.
* You can later modify the ODIIN, either with another Skill_Path_04 evolution, or your own hard work
* Foto-adrenal Interspatial Regulative Rewire (FIRR)
* Your adrenal gland, as a gift from the interface and Skill_Path_04, has been replaced with the FIRR cybernetic. It produces a hyper-advanced chemical called Pump, that when triggered by {MANA} will flood your body, and appear to slow down time from your own perspective.
* Note - The amount of {MANA} provided directly correlates to the time-altering effect.
* The FIRR cannot be modified.
* Custodian of Ultimate Recompense: Entropy (The CURE)
* Your left arm, as a gift from the interface and as a memento from {Hero’s Shade_May}, you have been given The CURE. It is not a normal cybernetic, and has permanently altered your {MANACORE} in the light of entropy. Flesh is anathema, and will fail before the glory of steel. All flesh that comes in contact with The CURE will rot.
* The CURE can only be modified with Skill_Path_04 evolutions. It is tied to your {MANACORE}, and will regenerate after a certain amount of time has passed.
Enjoy!]
I wasn’t given the opportunity to read further before my tears turned into actual lava, and I felt, in excruciating detail, my left eye turn into putty and recess into my body, feeding the rest of it with energy. There was a glow of green in the socket, and I was clutching at it desperately. It needed to stop. Whatever the interface was doing, had to stop.
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The light followed my lymphatic system down to my chest, before a chord was tied between it and the new orb that sat where my left eye used to be. It didn’t even leave me my eyelids, almost locked still by an invisible force that prevented it from coming free of the socket. And it should have come free, as I was doubled over on my self, heaving, as I felt my insides rearrange themselves.
The next change was much the same as the first. The adrenal gland, in the human body, couldn’t be bigger than a thumb. They each sat on top of the left and right kidney, and produced more than just adrenaline. Now, mine were directly attached with their respective kidneys, and substituted the production of vital hormones with whatever the hell Pump was.
And my arm… the way the interface dealt with my arm was different.
Each layer of skin was shriveled up and peeled back, in that same way May’s power worked, but it was so much faster. It started at my fingertips, and traveled up at an almost glacial pace. My skin cracked, and broke off my skin like pop-rocks, a horrible mummified brown color. What was underneath, however, was smooth, shiny metal that looked more like mercury in solid form than anything I had seen before. It was chromatic, and long green lights traveled up and down.
It took my shoulder with it, seamlessly connecting with the rest of my body. I noticed then, that the process didn’t hurt, and the chord tied between it and my core was strong. Better, than strong, the arm was part of my core now.
It felt invigorating, and I found myself scared. I didn’t want to get rid of my left arm. Every single one of my limbs was modified now. I brought my hand to my face. which was now missing every crease and wrinkle while still moving the exact same as before–better, even–and nearly recoiled as I realized claws now sprouted from each of my fingers. The mercury-like metal going down it shifted, and I watched as soft indentations under the green lines appeared in scale patterns.
It was, for lack of a better comparison, an imitation of May’s anatomy. Sized down to the same size as my right, but there was no denying where the interface got its inspiration from.
There was a haze in the air around it, and there, all over the surface of my hand, once again appearing with a blink, were rivulets. Glowing ones that connected with their larger cousins in deltas. I could feel the end of all things radiating from it like a malignant fog. I reread the description for it and realized that the ‘Custodian of Ultimate Recompense’ was just a title. The interface seemed to be implying that my new arm was entropy.
I doubted that, severely. If it was entropy, it would have also destroyed machinery, but it specifically targeted flesh. It was the interface giving me May’s ability with a fancy name to it. It named the eye after a norse god for crying out loud!
Looking around with the aforementioned orb was strange. I could feel it shifting in my skull, moving side to side with a soft whirring noise, and if I had to guess, it was also probably glowing green. Raising the CURE up to my face, using its surface as a mirror, revealed just that, along with a distinctly different design from my new arm. It was a solid, nearly black, orb, that would rotate on dozens of moving axes. It reminded me of my old steam-punk phase, except black and green.
Second thing I was doing after this trial, after I found my niece, was looking up what fucking color that green was. It was irritating that I still hadn’t figured it out yet.
I could only imagine, that were someone to rip out my kidneys, they would find two more glowing green sacks attached to them. The interface continued to prove its consistency. I took a break from processing the first of three screens, and instead just absorbed the situation while trying to form an opinion. I didn’t think I had admitted it to myself by then, but I didn’t want to get rid of my left arm. Not for a while at least, and the interface had once again taken that choice from me.
Along with my eye and organs. I couldn’t even replace the CURE with something else, I was stuck with it. I was confused. I was upset at May for leaving me with it. I was angry at the interface. But… it was past the time for it. I could preserve the small things, things like that birthmark that rested above my ankle.
If the interface had replaced my leg with the Cure instead, I would have probably been more upset. But I still had plenty of physical mechanisms left. There was time to remember my body before it was gone. And that was a strange thought. I would lose the ability to have kids soon, more likely than not. I mean, I could preserve it, but that was… unreasonable. I would get rid of it, certainly.
I liked being a dude. I wanted to have a family.
I gulped. There was probably an interface-magic thing my future partner and I could use to have biological kids. Or we could adopt- Oh. We weren’t going to have an adoption crisis after the trial. A shiver, and then I moved on.
What, exactly, did the interface mean by ‘Solidified’ and ‘Ruined’ self? It was broken up between the Neophyte books I had read, and the one scrap I didn’t. I distantly went to the back of my head, and recalled the schematic I came up with for the Moon Walker’s repulsion bowl. It was clear in my head, like I had mentally taken a picture with it.
So every scrap and piece of knowledge I read I was stuck with? But what did it mean by ruined? Was I permanently forbidden from making my prosthetics look nice?
No- I started thinking up ideas for how to make the H-TIG look pretty. It only had that same haze that came from an imagined thing. Maybe it was just a statement that I would have to actually learn the process. I guessed, correctly, that the scrap was gone from the workshop.
I didn’t really want to test the eye, or FIRR for that matter, with their stupid, clinical names. But, the eye at least, didn’t really care about my will, and went ahead and supplied me with all the critiques I would need for the next decade.
A small line traced from the CURE, H-TIG, and the Moon Walkers, with short notes pointing out their flaws. On the first, it had a single statement that told me a total of jack and shit.
‘No notes.’ I grabbed my hair and pulled only to freeze as I realized the CURE took a chunk of my hair with it. It didn’t go down to the stem, but now my hair was lopsided at the front part, and I made a noise that was half-between a sob and a cry for help. I was so, so, done with this. But I had to keep fucking reading.
‘Poor metal choice. Poor trigger placement. Improper finger proportions. Barrel is too short. Terrible brace, connection should be internal. Remove screen.’ Superimposed over the existing H-TIG was the eye’s ideal version of it. ODIIN, apparently, was a picky bastard, and I almost felt indignant at the fact that it completely tore apart everything about the H-TIG I created. The list went on like that, and I wanted to rip my eye out of its socket. I decided against it, and just moved it down to the last visible thing it could see.
If it critiqued the H-TIG, it completely roasted the Moon Walkers.
‘Improper foot proportions. Bowl design suboptimal. Gold is too heavy. Gold is too conductive for maximum efficiency. Ball and socket poor choice. Larger feet required for optimization…’ It didn’t stop. It basically completely redesigned the Moon Walkers with the superimposed image of it. And… I agreed with it. I fucking hated the things.
Actually seeing through the eye was, beyond the notes and extra screens, relatively normal. There was no extreme difference between before or after that made me hate it more than before.
That was where it ended, and the first screen had finally gone away. I was tired of reading, but I didn’t really have a choice.
[Congratulations!
You have killed 1x {Hero’s Shade_May}!
You have received the following rewards!
* Skill_Path_04 evolution
* Skill_Path_04 trial progression
Time Remaining: 90:52:47]
The timer was stuck at the time I had, presumably, defeated May. I didn’t like its usage of the word ‘killed,’ and I felt a pang of panic at the thought that May was permanently gone. It had to be a lie. She had come back, just like me, with each of my deaths. She lived after I took off her leg. I blew holes in her torso on two separate occasions. The interface wouldn’t just throw away that resource. It could still get motivation from me by keeping her alive. It made the most sense.
It didn’t stop me from worrying. She was the only person I was able to talk to since I got shoved into the trial. I didn’t want her to be dead, especially because of me.
I went to look back at the screen and found it gone. The rest of the text was probably just referring to what the earlier screen was about.
[Congratulations!
You have died, once again, to a {Hero’s Shade_May}!
For your fifth death, you have received the following reward!
* Material Expansion
* {God of Stars and Beetles-Like Insects} Station-2C
The next step of your trial has been added to your hub.
Time Remaining: 90:27:54]
I was snapped out of the thought as I heard the land shift again, but I couldn’t actually find what was changing. Then, it became obvious. There was another entrance into the workshop tent, right next to the previous one. It looked basically the same, and nothing about it jumped out at me.
Belatedly, I started to question the giant piece of translated text. This had to be like last time where it had trouble translating the word ‘toddler,’ I concluded. But what did ‘station’ imply? I stood up, and walked towards the new entrance to the tent. I opened it, and stepped inside, only to find myself for the second time in a week, somewhere completely different.
A glass cube surrounded me, along with another fabricator and operating table. It had at least one-hundred square feet of open space, which felt cramped because of the fabricator. But on the other side of the glass was my answer. On one side there was a massive window, which stared directly into the red surface of a star. On the other side was a line of similar glass cubes to my own, spaced out a rough fifty feet between each. I was at the end of the line
Directly in front of me was a dock. Of space ships.
People startled, and quickly began staring and pointing at me excitedly, speaking to each other loudly but not loud enough for their words to come through the glass. There were two glass doors, one facing the dock, and one directly behind me that likely led back to the trial.
I was out of the trial.
I was out of the trial.