[Attunement complete.]
I jolt awake. It’s night, but nothing around me feels familiar. There’re books along the wall, and wood beams in the ceiling, and I’m on a desk filled with candles and ink and broken glass, and—
—And I’m seeing all these things at once.
Oh.
Yeah.
The events of the last day come crashing back into me, punctuated with a distinct sting of homesickness. It all feels like a waking dream. Wild events that are happening to a different Kanin. Real Kanin is back in his bed, lulled to sleep by midnight traffic instead of crickets and owls, headlights streaking by outside the window instead of stars. The smell of dust and fast-food wafting through the apartment instead of, well, nothing.
God, what I’d give for a cheeseburger.
“Kanin?”
I jump at movement in the dark.
“You did move. You’re alive!” Noli skitters across the desk to wrap me in an uncomfortable metal-on-glass hug. “Thank the gods, I thought you were dead. Like, again. But for real this time.”
No, no. That’s not still a sore subject or anything. Please, go on.
“I came back after the wizard was asleep but you weren’t moving at all,” Noli continues. “And you were touching this piece of broken flask that was glowing all strange like. It looked like it was sucking the magic right out of you.”
Oh! The Attunement. I’d nearly forgotten. But it wasn’t really sucking magic out of me… right?
[Attunement cost: 2 mana,] Echo says. [Injecting your magic into the target object results in said object being bound to your soul and will.]
So it wasn’t the shard taking magic from me, but rather me putting magic in the shard. I wonder what I could do now that I’d “Magically bonded” to a piece of glass. It still looks like any other bit of broken bottle. And I suppose it is a bit of broken bottle, isn’t it?
Good god, I’ve just bonded my soul to a piece of trash.
But somehow, I can sense it sitting there. I can feel the faint texture of woodgrain beneath it. Like it’s an extension of myself. Curious, I mentally reach into the shard. And it moves.
Ahhh! The shard rattles across the table. Holy shit! I mentally instruct the glass to leap into the air, and it responds to my intent, hovering next to me like a mouse-sized sword.
Oh my god. I can control it with my mind.
I’m a mother-fucking Jedi.
“Woah!” Noli has apparently noticed as well. “Kanin, watch out!” She swats at the glass.
Ah, crap. I swing the shard behind me and out of her reach. Come on, I just got this thing!
“Careful,” she signs with snappy kung-fu-like movements. “It’s trying to attack you!”
This is not the shit I need to be dealing with right now. I push the shard further away, and at the same time I feel my hold on it waver.
[Range limit,] Echo warns.
Of course. Of course there’s a range limit.
I reel the shard back in, not about to lose the only crumb of control I’ve managed to scrape together so far in this world, and I use it to give Noli a gentle—and disciplinary—bop on the head.
[0 points of Bludgeoning damage dealt,] Echo happily reports.
Oops. Well, zero damage is good, right? I hadn’t meant to attack her.
But wow, my strength is shit.
Regardless, it seems to do the trick. Noli pauses, one tentacle frozen mid-swipe. I retract the glass shard. Neither of us move.
“Oh!” she signs abruptly, and I flinch. “Are you doing that, Kanin?”
Oh thank god—and all Noli’s gods—and whatever else they worship here. I swivel the shard back and forth in a poor attempt to wave.
“Wow! That’s amazing,” Noli cheers. “Sorry about all that. But hey, now we have an even better way to communicate! Let’s see; if you can point that thing up, down, left and right, then that’s at least four different things you can say! The possibilities are limitless!”
No, the possibilities are four. And while that does double my vocabulary—look at me doing math—it’s still a far cry from full sentences.
Luckily, this tool now makes my writing idea possible.
I decide to forgo another attempt at the inkwell and head straight for the stack of empty parchment sitting on Trenevalt’s desk. Sorry, dude. Hope these aren’t worth much.
Noli follows and watches closely as I position a jagged point of the glass over the paper. Even if it doesn’t cut all the way through, I should at least be able to leave enough of an impression to get the message across—not just to Noli, but hopefully to our halfling friend as well. I decide on something simple to start; then, once Trenevalt realizes we’re actual sentient (and upset) people, we can work up to more complex messages. Once he knows we need help, would he be able to send me back to Earth? Maybe heal my body while he’s at it? Hell, anything’s possible with magic, right?
Excited, I focus on painstakingly scratching the glass across the paper. It catches every once in a while, causing a letter to skew or skip, but the message is clear enough:
HELP
I proudly roll back as Noli leans over to read. She traces the letters with one of her tentacles, then turns back to me.
“Are these chicken-scratches supposed to mean something?”
What? I check my writing. I mean, sure, they aren’t perfect, but they’re totally legible! The P might look a bit more like a D, but the first three letters are easy enough to read.
“Are you trying to communicate?” she goes on. “Because this isn’t any language I’ve ever seen.”
Oh. Oh no. She’s right—it’s English. I’d just forgotten everything I’m seeing and reading and hearing is being translated for me. But that confirms she must not have an Echo in her mind translating everything for her as well—and that means Trenevalt might not, either.
Can you show me what to write in their language? I ask Echo. Can you… er… reverse-translate for me?
[Negative,] Echo says. [Translation may only occur to the user’s language, not from.]
Which means I’m back to square one. Forget cursive; as long as Noli and Trenevalt can’t understand English, I have no way to communicate with either of them.
I stab my glass utensil into the paper in frustration, and it sticks in the pages with vindictive satisfaction.
“Hmm.” Noli prods at the glass shard. “Not to your liking, huh? Well, don’t give up yet. Keep trying! I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it and be able to write something legible in no time.”
If only that were the issue. If only I could explain my dilemma! Every time I think I’ve taken one step forward, it turns out it’s two steps back. Now what am I supposed to do with this glass toothpick?
[Sculpt spell available,] Echo says.
Sculpt? Elaborate, I demand.
Echo eagerly obliges. [Sculpt: Change the shape or function of an Attuned item. Duration: 2 minutes. Mana: variable.]
Two minutes is certainly better than two hours. What can I Sculpt it into? I ask.
[Maintaining mass, the target may be changed into any shape the caster desires before the time limit expires,] Echo says.
Seems pretty straightforward. But what to make? I’m not sure how changing the shape of a shard of glass will help me. Then again, this is the first thing I’ve really been able to control in this world, and if I want any chance of fixing this mess I’ve found myself in, I’ll need to master every tool at my disposal. Okay, Echo. How much mana to sculpt this piece of glass?
[Mana cost: 2.]
Sounds reasonable to me. Like before, I mentally try to will this Sculpt thing to happen, and I’m rewarded with a strange tingling sensation spreading through the Attuned glass.
This time, I see what I’d apparently slept through before. The glass shimmers with an unreal light—a light not of any color I’ve ever seen. It almost appears to be lit with a black glow, though even as I witness it, I can’t understand how that can be.
“Oh!” Noli signs. “It’s doing that thing again. That’s you, right? You’re doing that?”
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I give her a little affirmative wobble—geez, I guess we’re back to this again—but continue to concentrate on the glass. When I’d controlled it with my mind before, it felt like grasping a solid blade. Now it feels like putty softening in my hands. But no time to waste marveling at the sensation now. I mentally press at it, and gradually the glass begins to meld into a new form.
It’s slow going, but I get a kind of elation out of seeing something I want to happen take shape. Damn, it feels good to have control over something again, even if it’s weird magic shit. In a way, it’s the same kind of satisfaction I get over nailing my lines. Nothing beats manifesting something into the world you worked hard on creating.
Before the two minutes is even up, I’ve finished my design: All the jagged edges have smoothed out, and all the sharp angles have straightened into one long rod. Like an exaggerated needle, one end is wide and round, while the other end tapers down to a sharp point. This should be easier to control, and it gives me two different tools to work with depending on which end I need to use. I’m already getting new ideas about what I’ll be doing with the next few shards of glass I get my hands on.
“Fascinating,” Noli signs, examining the rod. “I didn’t know you were a wizard, Kanin!”
I’m not a wizard. I mean, am I? I could have sworn it said Noli had some mana as well when I’d Checked her before. Can’t everyone here do magic?
Mysteries upon mysteries. And somehow, the more I learn, the longer that list seems to grow.
“So what’s it for?” Noli asks.
What, my glass? I don’t know, Noli, what are hands for?
She has a point though. With writing off the table, I’ll need a new plan if I want to save my free will from a death by octogenarian. I tap the pointed end of the glass on the table. I could scratch the surface, if I wanted to, but it could also work as a pen tip, if I got some of that ink and wanted to draw pictures. That might be my best bet at communicating ideas for now, however artistically-inept I may be.
“Um. You want to use it to write?”
Obviously not, given how well the first attempt went. I wave it in a way that I hope looks like a head-shake.
“Oh. Then… It’s a tool?” She guesses.
Yes!
“For the wizard’s yard work?”
No!
I flip the glass around and thump the blunt end on the table in exasperation.
“Pounding?” She tries again. “Is it a pestle so you can grind up herbs and spices?”
This has become the most depressing game of charades in existence.
“Tapping… Oh!” she exclaims. “Growing up, sometimes our village used smoke signals to send messages to our sister town. You could use that glass the same way. Tap the table with pauses in between to send a message.”
Like Morse code. That’s actually brilliant—if I knew how to tap out anything other than S.O.S.
Fuck, being a human has really not prepared me for this.
Noli must have noticed my lack of reaction. “Is that a no? Well, we can use this to replace our previous ‘yes’ and ‘no’ at least. How about, two taps for yes, one tap for no?”
Finally, we’re getting somewhere. I tap out a “Yes.” Better than the rocking, at least. But it’s still not good enough. I need to be able to communicate, not just agree and disagree with Noli’s ramblings. And if speaking and writing are off the table, then I’ll need to take a page out of Noli’s book.
I roll back over to the pile of broken glass.
“Oh,” Noli signs as I go. “Are we done? Okay well… good work, team!”
Hey Echo, I say. Can I Attune multiple things at once?
[Affirmative,] she replies. [Given mana requirements are met; Attunement duration will likewise compound depending on the number of simultaneous Attunements.]
Fair enough.
And is it going to knock me out again? I ask.
[Attunement requires complete attention,] Echo says. [During the duration of the spell, the caster enters a trance-like state wherein they are able to achieve resonance with the target object.]
That sure would have been a nice thing to know before it knocked me out the first time.
I use my newly forged tool to nudge the pile of glass apart, shuffling a few of the largest pieces to the front. The shards tinkle quietly as I’m rooting around.
Sorry about this, I think toward the dead homunculus shell. I don’t expect anything is listening, but it feels right to at least pay a bit of respect. I’ll be needing to borrow some more of your glass. Hope you don’t mind. I mean, you’re dead, so it’s probably all the same to you. But if it’s any consolation, I’m counting on you to help me avoid the same fate.
The broken flask opts not to respond, so I roll forward and touch three shards of glass.
[Attunement targets acquired,] Echo says. [Mana cost: 6]
Let’s do it, I say. This time the trance-like state doesn’t catch me off guard. In fact, losing consciousness is almost a relief. In the day or so I’ve been in this place, I haven’t slept at all. Actually, I’m beginning to wonder if sleep is something this body is even capable of…
----------------------------------------
[Attunement complete,] Echo says. [Attunement spell level up!]
“...hurry up, hurry up, hurry up, hurry up!”
Noli is leaning over me, worrying two of her tentacles against each other as she shifts impatiently from leg to leg… to leg to leg.
What is it now? I stir, mentally reaching for the newly acquired pieces of glass I’ve added to my arsenal.
“Oh thank goodness,” Noli signs. “You have to get back on your stand! I didn’t want to disrupt you when you were doing all that magic—Pa always said never to interrupt magic unless you wanted to get turned into a chicken—which I guess considering the circumstances isn’t the worst option at this moment—but now you’re awake! Quick—the wizard’s getting up. I’ll need to hide again, and you need to get on that stand!”
In the midst of all of Noli’s rambling, I take in a distinct change in our surroundings; sunlight’s glowing in through the window, filling the room with a faint, orange warmth.
And Trenevalt’s moving around in the room next door.
Shoot. No time to Sculpt my glass now or ask about that level up—and hardly any time to hide them, either. I don’t want Trenevalt to sweep them in the bin along with the rest of the trash; as soon as they’re out of range, I won’t be able to control them any longer. But that’s the least of my worries. If he finds me outside of my stand, would he stick me somewhere more secure? If he sees me wielding the glass, would he think he did the spell wrong and decide a scrap and reshoot is in order? The dead homunculus core is enough evidence to know he sees us as expendable.
Can’t take any chances until I know more.
But where can I hide my shards in the meantime? Under the books? No, my cracked slivers of glass wouldn’t be strong enough to lift them. Between the pages of the loose papers? That could maybe work, if Trenevalt isn’t looking closely. What else do I have to work with?
[Inventory space free,] Echo offers.
Sure, more things that haven’t been explained. So do you come with like a manual or something, or am I just going to have to stumble my way into every new helpful tidbit you’re keeping from me?
Echo doesn’t reply. Rather smugly, in my opinion.
Okay, fine, the inventory, I relent. What is it? How do I use it?
[Inventory space: 0/50. Add items to inventory?]
Well that doesn’t really explain anything. But sure, I say. Yes. Why not? Just assume I’ll say ‘yes’ to any useful suggestion you throw my way in the future.
[4 glass shards added to inventory,] Echo says. And the shards vanish.
“Woah!” Noli jumps. “Did you see that?”
Hot damn I did. That’s useful. How do I take them back out again? I ask.
[The user may manifest items that have been placed in their inventory at will. Remove items from inventory?] Echo asks.
No, no. Not yet. But if it’s that easy, then I’ve just gained an incredible asset.
An asset I’ll have to experiment with later.
I roll back over to my stand, and Noli hurries after. This time she doesn’t ask if I want help. Before I’ve even stopped rolling, she roughly juggles me between two limbs—dropping my HP a point—and pushes me back into the padded stand, where I settle down into familiar immobility. But this time, I haven’t returned empty handed.
“I won’t be far,” Noli promises. “Good luck!” And with a final wave of one of her octopus limbs, she jumps off the desk and scampers away.
It’s another few minutes before Trenevalt emerges, yawning.
“What a day,” the wizard grumbles, his gaze falling on me before moving to the glass homunculus shell still sitting menacingly in the corner of the room. He examines two of his fingers, rubbing them against one another and producing a wisp of magical light. “Hmm.”
I ask Echo for a Check.
[Name: Trenevalt]
[Species: Halfling]
[Class: Null Summoner]
[Level: 40]
[HP: 20/50]
[Mana: 70/800]
His HP looks the same, I think, and the Mana has definitely increased. But it’s not even a tenth of its full amount—and if it’s been about a day since we were first spirited away to this world, then that means it’ll be another 9 days or so before his tank’s back to full. That’s comforting. We should have over a week to figure out how to communicate our circumstances to him.
Unless, of course, he doesn’t need a full tank to bond me to that homunculus shell.
I try not to think about that possibility.
Trenevalt scratches his back as he hobbles into the kitchen. Soon I hear the hiss of something cooking on the stove, and a distant warmth follows. Ahhh. At least I can still feel things. Not going to lie, though. Kind of miss eating.
The old wizard reappears a few minutes later with a plate full of eggs, a thick slice of toast, and… some sort of spiky purple fruit, I think. Looks like I’m going to be here a while.
Echo, can I Sculpt those other pieces of glass while they’re still in my inventory? I ask.
[Negative,] Echo replies, which I was kind of expecting. But then she continues, [Mana: 0/10].
Oh shit, I totally forgot about that. Can I get it back? Do I need to, like, recharge or something? I’m reminded of the video games I played when I was a teen, and the floating blue orbs of energy that would restore health or energy. I somehow doubt I’ll find any of those bobbing around here.
[Affirmative,] Echo says. [Your Mana and Health will regenerate passively at a rate of one point every ten minutes.]
Not the fastest regeneration, but I guess I’ll take it. What’s my health at again? Check.
[Name: Kanin]
[Species: N/A]
[Class: None]
[Level: 1]
[HP: 2/10]
[Mana: 0/10]
[Void: 14%]
[Role: Homunculus]
Holy crap. I’m almost dead! Again. Or at least, I assume I’ll die if my HP hits zero. Certainly not a theory I’m willing to test. I need to start paying better attention to these stats.
My HP is almost out, my Mana is at zero, and… Void? Wait, what’s that? I don’t remember seeing anyone else with that status. For that matter, neither Trenevalt or Noli seem to have a Role either.
Hey Echo, what was that about a level up earlier? I ask.
[Attunement: Level 2,] she says. [Attunement costs and duration are reduced by 10%.]
Well that’s handy—assuming I can even get my non-existent hands on any more glass. I don’t imagine a 10% discount applied to 2 mana will do anything, but if I Attune several things at once maybe it’ll start to add up. And a 2 hour Attunement duration reduced by 10% is… uhhh. Shit.
I struggle for a moment with the mental math. Ten minutes? I think it’s about a ten minute discount. Okay, well, that’s also not stellar, but if I keep leveling it up maybe I can get its duration to start trending down.
Trenevalt reaches a hand over my head, and my attention snaps back to him. I tense, ready for him to pick me up, but his hand moves past me, touching a spot on the table instead. The broken homunculus remains.
“How did…” He frowns. “Oh… Oh yes. That aberrant vessel broke it last night.”
I’d feel bad for the dude if he didn’t pose such an existential threat to my existence.
“I suppose I should clean this up.” He grunts as he pushes himself to his feet, then hobbles over to collect a dust pan. I guess he’s really serious about saving up his magic. But if I were in his shoes, I’d have brooms and dusters dancing around my house like it’s some kind of Disney princess castle.
Wait. Would I be doing to those cleaning supplies what Trenevalt is doing to me?
The glass chimes sadly as he sweeps it off the table and into a bin. I watch it depart with regret, wishing I’d had more time—or mana—to Attune more of it. A trek to and from the contents of the trash can seems unlikely.
“I will be happy to never clean up another mess again,” Trenevalt says. I think he’s talking to himself until he looks at me and gives a wink. “It will be nice to have an extra set of hands around the house again. As soon as you’re able, your first task will be to tidy up this room.”
A familiar static creeps through my mind, and Echo says, [Order received.]
Oh, no.
Trenevalt hums an absent tune to himself as he carries the trash away, but I can already feel his Command taking effect.
Growing more insistent every second, a prickly pressure in my head is urging me to get up, start moving, and get to work on that wizard’s chores.