My body was not enough to keep up with the steps and swings my mind supplied. I was going to die again. A step left, a swing out. I knew how to use my blade, the interface taught me, but I couldn’t keep up with myself. Chitin slammed against my chest, sending me off my feet and onto the ground a few paces away. I growled, already feeling the blooming bruise on my side. I rolled with my fall, coming back to a stand.

The Shade paced around, slowly. Its many eyes seemed to roam over my body, keeping track of my every muscle twitch. The thing looked like a gorilla got stilts, and then had a child with a spider. I was shaking hard, my blade rising and falling with every breath. This was easily the longest I had managed to last against it, and I was silently thankful for the reprieve it allowed.

I flourished my sword, eyeing it for a moment. There was a black ichor along the silver blade–actual silver–and it pooled down to the crossguard. I flicked it off, not eager on gaining a few more blisters from the Shade’s corrosive blood.

The blade itself would have been considered a masterwork, with it as long as my arm and humming with energy. A single golden crystal embellished it, a small sphere that occupied both the crossguard and blade.

It was strange how smooth the grip felt in my hand, but as long as I kept my soul-stuff flowing into it, it would not fall. There were cracks in the Shade’s carapace, the product of a soul-enhanced swing. The energy would pour into its body, and then cut through it finding the path of least resistance until it ran out of energy. What this meant is that it would destroy the top layer of the armor, before allowing the next swing to hit deeper.

Death of three cuts, I called it, with the third being the one that actually mattered.

The only thing that prevented me from winning this fight was the fact my body was not good enough. The boosters the interface gave had already started showing, I was taller and far too thin, not a single ounce of fat present. My arms were stretching, and my overall proportion was significantly more bottom heavy. Longer legs meant longer strides, and my spine was certainly different than it was before.

It still wasn’t enough. I would need more boosters. Or, I would need to think of something fast.

The Shade, deciding that I had gotten enough relaxation, rushed at me, roughly going as fast as a semi-truck on the highway. I was faster, taking my blade into both hands and making a quick poking motion to the skull–a move the interface had taught me.

“Die!” I screamed, putting as much of my soul into my weapon as possible. The Shade ducked its head, making my blade hit it right beside its neck instead, the large quadruped coming to a stop as purple light traveled through and ruptured the armor along its equivalent to a jugular. It was a good hit, even though I missed it.

Another hit like it, taking advantage of the fact cephalization gave every species that natural inclination to protect their head, and I’d be done.

It didn’t stay still for long, deciding that my few hits were enough for it to actually start fighting. It rolled forward, like a bowling ball. I tried to move to the side, but my gangly limbs prevented the grace I knew I was capable of, causing the bug to take my right arm with it, snapping it in two different places. There were jagged, velcro-like spines along its back that took everything with it, meaning the moment it glanced against me, the limb was forsaken.

I didn’t scream. This thing had already killed me five, ten times, and blood was hard to see in purple grass. I could fight with just my left arm.

I took another swing at the Shade as it continued rolling past me, grazing its backside, with my soul too dim to pump enough into the attack to get rid of another significant chunk of its body. Red chitin shattered, and the sickly green interior of flesh and black blood flowed through the cracks. It came to a stand, making a twisted grunting noise that scraped at my ears from the way it distorted the air.

It raised an arm and went to grab me, and I tried to back away, but it caught my limp right arm, pulling me in for an uppercut that launched me back and broke my jaw. I collapsed onto the ground, my arm screaming for mercy, and my lungs burning. My jaw felt like paste and hung limply, my mouth now perpetually open. Still, I fought to stand. My legs did the heavy lifting, still going without injury so far. The Shade, thankfully, was an honorable sort, and gave me time to rise before it would attack again.

I went for the poke, aiming to stop it before it got the chance. Unfortunately, as honorable as the Shade could be, it wasn’t honorable enough to let me win, and simply grabbed my blade because of the repeated move. It shoved it to the side, ripping it from my left arm, before it came in for the kill.

“Good job, hero,” it spoke with the wind, before caving my ribs in with a massive punch. “I await to see how it shifts you for next time.” My vision fades, and rage begins to boil in my chest.

I had died eight times. One day gone, and all I had to show for it was an extra two feet of height, and a strange sword. I screamed with rage and despair as I woke back up under the damned violet tree, taking a stand before I punched its black bark. Nothing happened, my fist didn’t even break because I flooded it with my soul, just as I knew it would. The gesture wasn’t even able to help me calm down.

Dying can only be traumatic for so long, and I was getting sick and tired of that smug Shade killing me. I hardly even glanced at the interface’s ‘congratulations’ before accepting the new booster and ignoring the rest of the message. Yes, I knew I died again to a ‘Hero’s Shade’, and I was perfectly able to keep track of time myself.

The pain of change brought me out of my thoughts, but I was used to it now. Seven times the interface had permanently changed my body, and it was time to make it eight. I felt every fiber in my body stretch, and my eyes involuntarily closed as suddenly they too were pained. It felt like someone had poured lava down my sockets, and something in my abdomen changed in the same way too.

When I came to, after the booster, there was an almost imperceptible change in the world around me. The way the grass would part around my feet… It took longer. But I was still moving at the same speed. Finally, the interface had given me a flat upgrade. I could win.

----------------------------------------

Liquid, viscous and blurry, surrounded me. My eyes struggled to find anything to focus on, but they could hold themselves open in whatever substance it was that held my body. The straps that held me down stayed in place, thankfully, but there was enough wiggle room that as the pod drained I sunk slightly down onto the padding. Eventually, I was left slightly moist, and the window looking in started to clear.

I was more than just slightly worried about how much time was left, that maybe the downside of the pod was that it was only feasible for larger projects. After freeing my arms and legs, still wrestling against the slight incline of the pod, I rubbed at my wrist.

My hand, the one that wasn’t a gun, found the latch for the exit, and soon I was gauging the distance to the operating table. I had moved it over before I went in, so I would have somewhere to put myself after, but I couldn’t have it right up against the door, because then I wouldn’t be able to get in or out without it getting knocked over.

I took my right leg, now ending in a stump, before trying to pull the operating table over. Somehow the wheel locks were enabled, and the thing refused to budge under the rather weak leverage provided by my cut up ankle. Eventually I decided to just full-send it, pushing myself out of the pod as hard as I could. The wind was knocked from me as my stomach firmly hit the edge of the operating table, sending me spiraling to the wooden floor.

I groaned rather pathetically, rolling back and forth for a solid thirty seconds before the pain finally abated enough for me to sit back up. The simple movement was off from my lack of feet, the nubs pushing awkwardly off the ground. I took a moment to look down and inspect them, quirking a brow at the fact the skin had already healed over.

I didn’t just cut the foot off, I had removed the lower third of the tibia—as an attachment point for the gold channeling–and removed around a half inch of surface flesh around the entire leg so the cup that held up the prosthetic would be flush with the rest of the leg.

I wanted my balance to be as close to what it was as possible. I pulled myself, with some effort, back onto the operating table, before awkwardly moving it towards my desk by gyrating back and forth. I should have moved it while I was still on the floor, but by the time I had that thought I was already on the table.

The actual assembly of the feet were pretty simple, and the look was significantly nicer. The cup I fabricated was a bit too large, and I had it going again while I continued working. Both worked… nice.

I could wiggle my ‘toes’, and because of the ball and socket joint I added, they could practically bend wherever they wanted. Walking with them was strange, because it almost felt like I was falling with every step. It probably wasn’t the smartest choice, but it resulted in a very satisfying bouncing cadence after a couple minutes of practice.

And then, for the actual stress test, I pushed my mana down and into my feet. I bent over to flip open the exposed dispenser, and was launched just high enough to scare me because of the sudden repulsive field the bottoms of my feet had.

I did not consider how terrible it would be to learn how to ‘glide’ without any real leverage. I banged my head twice against my desk while trying to figure it out, but the eventual secret was just committing to it. I could not stay stable for long, but I knew, with practice, I would be a menace.

The speed I got from it was unreal. After I started testing it outside, it practically felt like the wind was rushing through my hair, despite the trial-space having absolutely no wind. I only managed to faceplant once into the tree, but I was laughing all the while. I probably had a concussion, all things considered, but I was floating. I vowed, until I was literally out of mana, to never stop.

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And they were stylish! It was practically impossible to make gold look bad, and with the same rugged look as the H-TIG, it took the design from ‘mad max’ to ‘rich people shit.’ It gave me the same feeling like those gold bands people would wear that had absolutely no real depth or style, but wrapped around their arm in a neat pattern and thus was mildly interesting and fashionable to wear.

Five gold toes, with indentions of where the former bone would have been, and a significantly more pronounced arc. The steel bottoms looked a bit out of place, but they were dark enough that it turned around to where it made the gold pop more. And it was utterly fascinating to watch how it moved with the ball and socket connection to the rest of my flesh, a gold rod going through that connected with my tibia.

If I planted my foot, it had the natural inclination to roll back, to where the ball would rest on top of the foot, with the connection point behind it, all while the foot itself remained completely still! It was cool to look at, and I was still slightly impressed with how much I managed to fuck up my balance despite having the intention to mess it up as little as possible. New shoes made learning how to walk again cool.

I called them the Moon Walkers, obviously.

The H-TIG was a different beast entirely. I didn’t end up extending it, but basically rebuilt the entire thing with the rest of the steel and what little gold was left. I was able to move my finger! Not with the same dexterity as before, but I could snap. And that's enough. What was, ultimately, more important was the revolver system. It had the collapsing design I theorized on, and the barrel was propped up a bit taller than before for better connection. On the inner side of the front half there was a screen with a bit of gold hidden behind it.

I didn’t really know what would happen if I pushed mana into it. The scrap, and the person apparently in contact with the interface, said to throw it on, so it would have to do something. I sent a little burst to it, and watched the screen flicker to life. It steadied out, bright enough that I could probably use it as a flashlight. I watched it for a while as I started back walking towards the Shade, and notice it dim ever imperceptibly despite the connection remaining just as strong.

Could I use it as a battery?

I decided not to question it now, instead using the rest of the walk to start charging up shots. Quantity would be better than quality for the kind of approach I wanted, so I started with giving a light enough dose to each chamber, before going back to fill up each individually in case I didn’t have enough time.

Even casually moving, in spite of the one or two slips I had, I was going much faster than when I would run normally. It wasn’t really walking, I ended up keeping balance with long circular strides closer to ice-skating than defined steps. It was euphoric to execute properly, but I didn’t have the benefit of actual ice underneath me.

If I push more mana into the repulsion bowl, it would send me up, and theoretically I could literally use that to fly. But that would increase the strain needed drastically, and the slow steady stream I sent to the screen and bowl were marginal enough that they shouldn’t impact fight performance drastically.

My sweatpants were puffy enough that they would sometimes catch on the joint, so I cut them down to knee length shorts. It was an issue I literally could not predict. Would I even need to wear clothes soon enough? Eventually… it would get in the way of more enhancements.

I had filled three chambers completely by the time I noticed the Shade on the horizon again, actually keeping my eyes peeled this time instead of waiting for the pressure. I kept moving toward it, a small smile on my face, that slowly turned confused. Twenty feet away, and her soul’s weight only felt like a hand was on my shoulder. What changed?

“I did not expect to have to swat you from the air this time.” Its voice still brought the chill of fear to the back of my neck, and I noticed the pile behind it was one body larger. I almost felt sheepish in front of it, popping out the H-TIG despite the threat. The Shade’s leg was back to normal, unfortunately, which made me question what mechanisms the interface had going on behind the scenes. Maybe literally, if the note was to be believed. I was being watched.

“What, no more mercy?” I decided to ignore that in favor of taking pride in what I had created. I had a gun in my arm, and I could fly. Not then, at the moment, but eventually I would be able to. “You said you were a mom. What do you remember about your kids?” I wasn’t even trying to delay, I was trying to see how far the interface’s bluff went.

I squinted at the fact I started referring to the Shade as a ‘her.’ Apparently it went far enough.

“...I… I don’t remember much at all.” Her head dropped forward, the invisible string snapped before it slowly reformed and pulled her skull up in the first motion that didn’t look marionette-esque. She looked to the sky, the cloudy quality to her eyes shifting for a moment. “There were three of them. Their faces are gone.”

I cringed, suddenly feeling significantly more like an asshole. I couldn’t just invalidate someone by assuming they were a construct of an invisible machine. It was much more reasonable, and moral, to assume the puppeteer was unjustly cruel.

“Would you… Would you tell me their names, if you can remember?”

She nodded, leaving it there before resuming her normal slightly hunched posture, gangly limbs trailing and imperceptibly tense.

“The fact you still honor me is amusing.” She spoke, a disgusting chuckle emanating from her throat. It was wet, and brutish compared to her normal quality of speech. But there were no more words to be had.

I raised the H-TIG, and used my left to rotate the cylinder to a dull-shot. I didn’t want to start with a bang, and figured it best to save my big shots until I was–dangerously–in close range. I couldn’t miss afterall. I was stupidly upset over the fact I only had three dulls, but I couldn’t exactly charge up a magazine. It felt unbalanced, three and three, and I would make sure to have them all properly charged next time.

There were too many next times. I’ve probably reflected on how there were too many next times too many times.

“Fire!”

Predictably, she dodged, before attempting to close the distance with her insane speed. Luckily, with my more reasonable speed levels, I managed to keep a good sense of distance, and she bled a lot of her speed to try to get a retaliatory strike in. I tried, unnecessarily, to rotate my right foot around the ball-and-socket–instead of moving my ankle with it–to where my foot was sticking out sideways.

A quick burst of mana out the bottom pushed me to the left. However, the fancy maneuver, on top of being unnecessary, was poorly executed, and resulted in me tripping over nothing. The Shade, rather smartly, decided to capitalize on it, raising a claw back to strike.

I pushed more mana down, sending me spiraling faster away, but instead of hitting my chest like she originally intended, she instead tore a chunk of meat off my thigh. I screamed, still unused to pain–now with my sweatpants thoroughly ruined–but I was away and had enough time to right myself.

I figured now was the perfect time to be risky, especially since the next shot should have been charged. I played up the injury, gasping desperately at my leg, waiting for her to approach. She took the bait hand over fist, and went to grapple me to the ground.

I didn’t vocalize the next shot. The upgraded H-TIG didn’t force me to, though I was upset at myself for letting this card flop so early in the fight. I was, however, overjoyed to watch nearly the entire left side of her chest disappear. A giant hole was carved into it, and the dried hive like-structure was exposed in all of its gross glory. She had no organs that would have ruptured from the blast, so the only thing the blast really did was take out some of her mass.

At a certain point, I started to wonder what the use of her armor was. There was no way the blast would have done that much damage if it was pristine, and she had to have been handicapping herself by keeping it on. It had to have been something the interface did. She was clearly a warrior, a rather ruthless one at that. If she was even twenty five percent quicker, I would have already died.

I forced myself out of the way of another retaliatory strike. The awkward part about falling with the Moon Walkers, was that the rest of my body didn’t have any repulsion, so it would lie on the ground while my feet would still be up in the air. I would really have to get better at this.

The next round would have been charged, but I rotated the chamber twice to bring it to another dull, wanting to make my next charged count. I did big damage early into a fight, and if I managed to keep it up, I would win. The Shade however, was clearly not amused, walking towards me at a normal pace like there wasn’t a hole in her chest.

The cloth underneath the breastplate was flapping uselessly, and, like she heard my mental recommendation, she started pulling it off. Everything from her bracers to her shoulder pads were thrown to the ground, and my brain did a couple barrel rolls out of both confusion and silent cursing. ‘Phase two,’ the cringey voice of my youth supplied.

Her arms were… strange. She had a rather broad chest, with strong deltoids that for some reason made me think wrestling, and her forearms had to have been as thick as my thigh. Her actual chest was well defined, but her more reptilian anatomy showed there.

I realized that my clothes were about to get folded with my body still inside of them.

She ran at me, and refused to let me play keep away again, taking advantage of my lack of experience with the Moon Walkers; she wrapped a hand around my calf and yanked me back to her, before using her other hand to smash my face down into the ground. I saw stars, my breath leaving me, and I lazily raised my arm to shoot, clipping something but not seeing what I hit before my head was bashed in by a giant lizard woman.

I woke up dizzy, and with a mana-drain induced heart ache that was slowly becoming familiar. The interface decided to chime in before I could really process my fourth death.

[Congratulations!

You died, once again, to a {Hero’s Shade}!

For your fourth death, you have received the following rewards:

* Workshop upgrade

* Neophyte’s Scrap - Aesthetic, and You!

Time Remaining: 96:47:11]

The interface was actually shitting me. Did that fucker really screw me out of direct power increases because my sense of style wasn’t good enough?

I did punch the screen this time, but it vanished before I did actual damage. I was now a day into the trial, and I hadn’t even defeated the first enemy. How much more was the interface going to make me do before I even got to see the Giant’s Skeleton? How many…

I wanted to sleep. I wanted to lay down and not wake up for twelve hours, but I was scared. Could I have afforded twelve hours of rest? Would my body even allow that?

Maybe my next upgrade would be something to get rid of the need for sleep…