As soon as the system conked out, I realized I had a problem… well, several problems.
Concerns for the system’s health aside (what counted as ‘healthy’ for an entity that created text pop-ups?), my preoccupation had turned towards how everything about my body now felt entirely alien and wrong.
Breathing, for example.
After years of being alive, I’d thought I’d mastered the art of not choking on air. Apparently those skills were not quite so transferable to my current circumstances. All of a sudden, every part of me felt like it was not where it ought to be. My tongue lay heavy in my mouth, yet so easily could curl back into my throat if I wasn’t careful. My neck was more wobbly than I was comfortable with, even partially blocking my airway if I twisted to look the wrong way too much. And just breathing in of itself was… off, somehow, ribs not feeling like ribs ought to feel like.
Walking was no less abruptly alien. My claws brushed and tripped against just about every surface, rock, and irregularity in the terrain. Tail kept swishing in the wrong way. Arms were too long, posture too crouched forward (partially due to said aforementioned tail).
All of these things were tiny bits and bobs that I hadn’t thought to notice, everything had been so smooth… until the system got hurt. It was because of having “too much” AP, but what was the AP? Why had it hurt the system?
What was the system? I could only fathom it was somehow related to cores, yet that too brought even more questions. Why had the system claimed megucas have “perfect cores”? The implications of the possible answers left a bad taste in my mouth. It was impossible that megucas were somehow monsters… right?
It brought questions upon questions, and a growing headache. Suddenly, Moreau’s stance on the matter made a whole lot more sense. The deeper I dug into this, the more I felt like I was barely scratching the surface.
But that was a concern for later. Right now I was too exhausted, I needed to get back to my human form, but that would have to wait until I got back to the stash-area, which was… somewhere out there. Sniffing the air around in an attempt to pick up my trail beyond the boundaries of the ravine proved a mistake, the front of my brain bombarded with a billion different variables all jumbled up.
Note to self: thank the system for whatever shenanigans it’d been pulling to make existing in this form not torture.
Further note to self: figure out more about the system.
Dragging my claws through the caked dirt, I managed to spot the signs of combat. Some claw marks here, some crushed stuff there… I very slowly started making my way back. Fortunately, I’d kind of killed most monsters in the region, so I didn’t have much to worry about in terms of combat, leaving my ample room to think about the achievement I hadn’t really had much time to pay attention to.
Master of None:
You are somewhat malleable
Malleable…
I frowned a little, thinking of my statline, trying to will it into shifting, somehow. Maybe bump some of that 160 in senses by taking 20 from toughness. I imagined the feeling of my bones becoming lighter, of my ears becoming sharper, and… nothing. So I quickly shifted to the next option, looking at my orange-tainted claws. The image I focused on was of the corrosion from the corrosion trait to lessen itself, to spread out, maybe even go away entirely.
But that, too, didn’t appear to do anything.
Grumbling, I kept marching onward, wracking my brain trying to figure out whether this was a failure due to lack of system aid, or just the wrong idea entirely. The annoyance compounded along the dysphoria of my monster form, the blazing heat cooking against-
Blinking, I looked down at my body, something was different. I was covered in thick light-gray and brown fur that had not been there an hour ago. And not just any kind of fur, but something that made the heat and sun less annoying.
Was this what the trait did?
I began walking again, this time focusing on my feet. I didn’t like the crunch of dirt and sand under every footstep. This time I paid attention to it, to how the pads under my claws appeared to thicken and soften. Soon I could barely hear the sound of my steps.
Exhaustion forgotten and feeling a little excited, I began to experiment.
It took a lot of shots in the dark, but the more I tested, the clearer the boundaries became. It was a very soft kind of trait, the sort that didn’t interfere with whatever else I had going on. For example, while I could alter my fur’s length and thickness, even change it to scales, the shimmering effect and light-gray coloration was fixed. As a matter of fact, the closer to affecting one of the other traits, the harder it was to make changes, which explained why my hands were untouchable, not while they had corrosion and blades focused on those areas.
Thinking back, it felt somewhat like what the system had done when I’d requested to be stealthier than normal. Though this felt more responsive, more natural. Like the difference between stuffing large shoes with cloth to make them fit, and shoes that were the right size from the start.
The testing with this ability reached its peak as I considered the prospect of flight. Barely a passing bit of fancy, I gave it a shot all the same.
Though I could turn scales into feathers (not fur to feathers, it needed to be scales first), I couldn’t make my arms long enough to turn them into wings. Similarly, trying to have wings sprout out of my back didn’t seem to do anything, so that was a bust (and a bit of a shame). Maybe I’d need a trait for that…
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I’d make sure to keep an eye out for flight-capable monsters next time around. Today’s fight could’ve gone so much more in my favor if I had the option of flight available.
Finally reaching the trio of boulders where I’d left most of my non-important stuff, I took a minute to scout the surroundings. I didn’t find any traces of the shadow-meguca, nor any signs that anyone had touched my stuff… but at this point it was impossible to be sure that was truly the case.
Ugh. Something to ponder on later.
Plopping my ass down next to the boulder, I grimaced, adjusted my tail to get it out of the way, and began focusing on wanting to not have a tail at all. It took a few minutes of trying different things before I started feeling that “deflating-balloon” feeling all throughout my body. The sensation was not unlike trying to forcefully relax parts of my body through tensing my muscles there for a second and then letting go. Except the muscles weren’t really physically there.
The process took way longer than any previous time, happening in short and irregular spasms. At some point, I had tiny human arms on a large feathered body. The fact that my head turned out to be the hardest part to turn back also meant that, for a few seconds, I looked like I was wearing a big fuzzy helmet.
Panting, sweating, and exhausted all over, I immediately pulled out the water bottles and nutrient paste packs from the backpack. I didn’t bother to slow down, or even breathe, as I emptied everything I’d brought along, and then ate the plastic containers for good measure. It wasn’t going to be enough, but it would definitely stall the onset of the hunger, hopefully for long enough for me to reach the production tower where a large shroom-juice container was waiting for me.
I’d started dressing up and putting everything into my bag when something caught my attention. The laminar cloth bag I’d tucked my tablet in felt a lot less… solid. I frowned, trepidation taking hold as I opened the bag, then grimaced.
“Fudge.”
The tablet had snapped, the device bent and broken into several large pieces barely kept together by the internal cables. It was bad, but not as bad as it could’ve been. A quick panicked first impression was that nothing truly critical had broken, my neuralink was still slotted in it, whole. The main-processing unit was intact, as were the memory slots. I was no expert technician, but it looked like the sort of damage that would need a new screen.
My sigh of relief died short when I noticed there was a brownish stain on the outside of the sheath. A horrifying thought sank within me. In a rush of trembling hands, I quickly dug back into the backpack, pulling out the Bulstra out of its holster.
“FUCK!” The corrosion had chewed through the revolver’s hammer, and even reached a bit into the cylinder. It was… bad. Who knew how deeply the rust had gotten? The whole firearm could be compromised!
Pulling the bullets out, I kept swearing under my breath.
Getting the corrosion skill was the worst choice ever!
“Definitely should’ve gotten the AP instead.”
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“You look like shit.”
“I feel like shit.” I grumbled, head resting between my knees.
After everything had been said and done, I’d made my way back to the tower and proceeded to eat my weight in shroom juice. After that, I’d just tucked myself into the landing bay and napped in and out of consciousness while waiting for Carl and his hauler to come pick me up.
“Should’ve brought weather gear.” The pilot declared. “At least you didn’t die. Not many get that lucky.”
I just gave him a half-hearted affirmation, not wanting to dispel the misconception. “At least it was worth it.” I pushed out through a half-hearted sigh that involved far too much need for sleep. “Though…” I took a momentary pause, an idea popping up. “I did encounter something weird.”
“Weird?”
“Yeah… I think a stalker-type monster of some sort? I kinda saw it, then it vanished, and I’ve had this feeling of being followed.” I declared. “I’d rather leave soon.”
Carl nodded solemnly. “First, you’ve got a deal to keep.”
“Hm?” He pulled out a set of speakers, giving them a tentative shake. “Oh, right, the protein vat thing.” I pulled myself up to my feet. “Let’s put this together, I need some shut-eye.”
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The Shadow watched Axel Garcia use tape to strap speakers onto a protein vat’s plumbing. She lingered from the shadows, carefully walking closer to his line of sight. Her darkness did not waver, revealing that he was blind to her presence, as he should have been. Another step, closer, and the shadows wavered ever so minutely, a warning that she was about to enter his detection range.
Being spotted had been bad, a blunder of the highest caliber. The Shadow had been forced to run and hide, to watch him from afar, and very carefully determine the new limits of Axel Garcia’s detection range.
Sixty meters, forty if he was concentrated in a fight.
A sloppy fight he shouldn’t have been able to survive. But that was not her concern. What mattered was that those sixty meters had been reduced to three now that he’d turned back. The Shadow glared at the pocket where he’d tucked away the stolen fork, well beyond her reach.
Pushing aside childish concerns, the Shadow focused.
An unspoken invocation surged through her lips, silently uttering words of ancient meaning and power. The darkness of the Deep filled her black eyes, bringing upon them a touch of blood and power. The world around her dissolved, all color drained away into a sea of blacks, whites, and reds.
With the incantation came focus and clarity, emotions becoming as flat as a frozen lake.
Looking at her target once more, red lines appeared throughout her target’s body. The lines criss-crossed over his eyes, his throat, his chest. Each line marked a point that would bring his demise were she to strike with her unholy blade.
Yet despite the definite proof she could end him where he stood, a trickle of surprise passed over her. The lines were far lesser in number than they’d been that morning. Any doubt whether it was her own powers or not were dismissed when confirming that the human “Carl” was nothing but a mass of red. It was undeniable confirmation that something fundamental had changed about Axel, something that had made him far harder to kill.
The only ones with so few lines were either monsters or megucas.
But Axel Garcia was certainly not a meguca, yet according to her shadows, also not a monster.
A monster, but not a monster.
A human, but not a human.
Fluffy, but not fluffy.
The last thought sent a ripple of shock across the stillness of her soul, the Shadow immediately pushed it back down. The shadows whispered, warning her that she should not kill him. But the Shadow dismissed those words, she had taken this mission, and would see it through.
With but a single breath she brought cold calculation back to the forefront of her mind.
Three more days.
Until then, she would observe the Doctor’s second abomination, and prepare for-
“Hey, so about the stalker monster I mentioned.” Axel Garcia spoke up, his voice slightly strained, clearly trying to project his words. “Could you maybe bump weight sensitivity detection for this trip? Just to make sure there’s no surprises trying to jump on board on the way back.”
The Shadow twitched.