[Command resumed.]
Huh?
I lower my glass, which I’d been using to practice some of Noli’s signs, and glance around the room.
It’s late—or maybe early. I haven’t been keeping track of time, and I don’t have any more glass to Attune in order to mimic sleeping and skip through the night. Noli left a couple hours ago to go map out the property, and as far as I can tell, Trenevalt’s asleep. Had I just imagined Echo speaking up? Nothing has changed, except…
[Sanity Level: 99%] A familiar static begins to eat its way into the peripheral of my mind.
Damn it.
What’s going on? I ask Echo.
[Command resumed,] Echo repeats.
Yeah no shit. The curse is already sinking its fangs into me once more. Why? I press.
[The Role Command was paused with the amendment, ‘that is more than enough cleaning for today.’ Command resumed when the day ended.]
Of course.
Grumpily, I reposition my glass legs to lift myself out of my stand. It’s sort of like wearing roller-skates; it’s not my first time, anymore, but it still takes a minute to adjust and remember how to not fall on my face.
I’m going, I say, just to abate the Command’s insistence. I don’t like it, but there’s also not much I can do to fight it.
Which just makes me resent it even more.
But what to do, is the question. Trenevalt swept up that pile of dust Noli and I collected, along with my feather-duster. Damn, I should have thought to put that in my inventory. Too late now. So what does that leave?
I pause worrying about cleaning to instead worry about making it down the desk alive. Stabbing my glass into the desk’s leg—probably leaving tiny holes behind, but who’s counting—I begin to inch my way down, and quickly determine it’s no less terrifying the second time. I’m only halfway to the floor when Noli shows up.
“Hey! Didn’t expect to see you down here,” she signs, rather conversationally. “Did you want to come help me scout? I’ve learned a little about our surroundings. There’s a road—well, more of a path—well, more of an impression—well, it might be an animal trail…”
Finally making it to the ground, I ready my glass to reply to Noli, but Echo interrupts me first.
[Climbing skill obtained!]
Gee, thanks for giving me that now. “No,” I sign to Noli.
“Oh.” Noli considers. “Then why are you down here?”
I wish she’d taught me something for “Exasperation.” Instead, lacking any nuanced vocabulary, I mime sweeping the floor.
“Oh! Oh, right. Is it the curse again?”
“Yes,” I sign.
“Well!” Noli folds two arms. “In the middle of the night? That’s just rude.”
You’re telling me. This is some reverse Cinderella bullshit.
[Sanity Level: 98%] Echo says.
I don’t even need her to tell me; the pressure is building in the back of my mind. It’s taking every fiber of my being to ignore it. I’m pushing things just by stopping to have this conversation. Stinging with resentment, I give in, and start moving once more.
The relief is instantaneous. Like I’ve let a tension out of my shoulders. But what to do? What cleaning can I even manage in this form?
Noli skitters after as my current aimless trajectory takes me to the kitchen. Not much to do on the floor. But up on the counter…
Eugh. I’d rather not.
I pause to sign a question mark at Noli. She tips her head.
“What are you asking?” She looks around the kitchen. “You’re asking for ideas? For chores?”
“Yes,” I sign. It would be great if she had better ideas than me.
“Oh, well…” She hesitates. “There’s always the dishes, right?”
Sigh. Yeah.
Yeah.
There’s always that.
With the Command urging me on, I begin my climb to the kitchen counter. It’s fairly similar to the desk, actually, and if I stay toward the edge, I can dodge around all the cliffs and crevices of the drawers. I’m not sure if that newly acquired Climbing Skill is doing anything, or just tracking my progress, but I suspect it’s just as useless as the Cleaning Skill turned out to be.
I keep a cautious pace, despite the Command pressure that begins to press at me from my slow progress; still better to try to ignore the growing mental tinnitus than to be hasty and miss a step, falling to my death.
Or at least, that’s the idea.
[Sanity Level: 95%] Echo says as the minutes stretch.
That is starting to get really annoying. The mind-static is getting louder, harder to ignore, but I’m almost there. There’s only the lip of the countertop above me. I lift my next leg to stab into the top surface, but instead of sinking into the wood, it skips over the top with a slight glassy screech.
I pause, tapping at it again. Dread sinks into me with the realization: It’s not wood.
It’s stone.
“You got this Kanin!” Noli signs from below.
I run my limb over the countertop, feeling for any purchase within range, but it’s all depressingly, horrifically smooth.
No, Noli. I don’t think I got this.
[Sanity Level: 94%]
The Command is pressing in on me. Do I have time to climb back down? Can I search for somewhere else to clean? There has to be something—anything—I can do. But the static is getting worse. The pressure is clouding out every other thought. There’s no time to think, and as the tinnitus swells, so does a hint of my panic.
[Sanity Level: 93%]
I know. I know! The Command’s eating up my mind, discomfort edging toward pain. I desperately try to hook my leg over the lip of the kitchen counter and leverage myself up, but the glass slips over the slick surface, and I nearly lose my hold.
From below, Noli gasps. “Careful!”
This would be about a thousand times easier without Noli and Echo distracting me.
I pick up one of the three legs I have stabbed into the side of the cabinet and lodge it higher, then push, inching myself up—
“There!” Noli cries.
I roll onto the counter with relief. Getting back down will be its own issue, but for now, at least, step one is complete.
[Sanity Level: 95%]
The mental pressure recedes a hair, and I use the opportunity to gather my wits. There are more cabinets above me, a cutting board and knife block on the counter, a forest of used teacups and, of course, a washing basin set into the countertop. Weaving my way through the mugs, it’s at the basin I find what I’m looking for: soap, a pitcher of water, and stacks upon stacks of moldy dishes.
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Jeez, even I wasn’t this much of a pig in my bachelor pad. Leaving dirty dishes to pile up for a day or two—or, okay, maybe a week—is one thing, but literally mold growing over the plates is something else. Ugh. I am not looking forward to this.
Tipping the pitcher over will be tricky. The soap at least I can manage.
Channeling my inner cat, I walk over to the edge of the basin and casually kick the soap off the edge. It bounces off stacks of bowls and mugs on the way down, striking the metal bottom with a loud thud, before finally knocking into one of the glasses, which tips over with another loud clatter. I cringe. Trenevalt, however, doesn’t show.
Next I walk over to the pitcher of water. Definitely won’t be able to tip it over. But I have a different idea brewing. Hey, Echo, I say, touching the pitcher. Can I put this in my inventory?
[Affirmative.] The pitcher vanishes. [Jug of water added to inventory.]
Sweet! Now I just need to make it reappear over the sink and I’ll be set. I look down into the basin.
Hmm. That glass I knocked over is looking pretty tempting, and I sure could use some more to Attune. But with the sink full of water, I might not be able to reach it.
I Check my sanity level: 97%. Repositioning the soap helped abate some of the mental static, so I think I’ve got time to investigate. Maybe staying in motion will trick the Command into thinking I’m being productive and buy me a few more minutes while I’m at it.
I make a lap around the sink, scouting out the best way down. Haphazard stacks of plates, bowls, glasses, and miscellaneous silverware are piled up against the sides, so it’s not the biggest obstacle I’ve faced. As long as I can get back up, I’ll be fine.
Totally fine.
Selecting a staircase of plates as my entry point, I take a tentative step forward. My glass gives off a faint yet painful screech as it slides across the ceramic, then catches. I pause, then try a second limb. It slips, but holds. Carefully, slowly, I progress down the tower.
It’s kind of like walking on ice. I still don’t feel completely stable on these glass limbs of mine, and the slippery surface isn’t helping. But once I get the hang of it, it’s not so bad. Slow and steady sets the—
A plate shifts to the side, one of my legs slips from the surface, and I crash into the stack of dishes.
[1 point of Fall damage sustained.]
Colors swirl nonsensically around me as I hit something else.
[2 points of Fall damage sustained.]
It’s too fast to do anything. None of my limbs have any purchase, and I don’t know which way is up or down regardless. I slam into something that rings hollowly, feel a sickening crunch, and then everything is still.
[4 points of Fall damage sustained.]
[HP: 3/10]
[Bonus HP: 8]
You’re useless, Bonus HP. Useless!
[Fall Damage Resistance skill: Level up! Now resist 20% of damage sustained from falling.]
Gee. Thanks.
I guess that’s one way to get down. I slowly move each of my limbs, making sure they’re not broken. It doesn’t hurt, exactly—at least, not how things hurt when I had a real body. But it’s distinctly uncomfortable. And something feels… fragile, almost.
I roll over, and quickly discover the source of that discomfort. Part of my vision is blurred, a series of cracks spiderwebbed across my surface. Yeesh, sure hope that’s fixable. In the meantime, I’ll just have to try to not put that side under any undue stress. Rotating to point the damaged portion upward and away from my glass legs, I carefully position my limbs back underneath me and limp to my feet.
This wasn’t one of my worst ideas, but it certainly wasn’t one of my best.
At any rate, I’m down here now. I creep over to the glass that I’d knocked over a minute before. Tch, no cracks at all. Typical. I lean against the rim.
[Target acquired,] Echo says.
Nice! Can I Attune it?
[Attunement unavailable,] Echo says.
What? Why?
[Attunement cost: 18 mana. Time required: 18 hours.]
Shit, I forgot about that. The Command definitely won’t let me wait for hours to get to work on these chores. And I don’t have near that much Mana anyway. With the static slowly creeping back in, I decide this is a Future Kanin problem; time to get back to work.
I’ll be back for you, later, glass.
As I’m surveying my trek back up Moldy Plate Mountain, something moves in the shadows behind me. I freeze. Was that Noli?
I wait, but the night remains still. I hold a limb defensively in front of me, pointing the sharp end into the dark. I’m sure I didn’t imagine it. It’s hard not to notice things when you can see every which way at once.
A creature skitters from the dark.
Ahhhhh! I back up, clanking into a bowl, and wave my sword (toothpick) menacingly (haphazardly) in front of me.
The beast is fast. It zig-zags across the basin, making a beeline straight for me. I stab toward it with my glass, but it slips right past. I brace for impact—but the creature stops a hair’s breadth away from my vial and freezes, filling my vision with its awful visage.
It’s a cockroach. Or, some hideous variation thereof. Its hard shell gleams in the moonlight, sprouting far too many legs and quivering feelers, mandibles clicking open and shut mere millimeters from my face. From this vantage point, the insect is less disgusting and more some primordial horror. It couldn’t really hurt me, right? I’m made of glass. But one side of me is damaged, and I don’t want to think about how much (or little) effort it would take for the cracked portion to collapse. I take a cautious step to the side.
At my movement it bolts forward, placing two of its legs on my surface. Revulsion and fear shiver through me in equal parts. Oh hell no, I am not going to become some insect’s midnight snack!
I slash at the bug with my glass, and this time I connect. It jerks to the side at the attack, and I feel my glass skip over its shell.
[1 point of Slashing damage dealt,] Echo reports.
Oh my god. I actually hit it! I’m amazing! I—
The cockroach bowls over me and I slip from my legs, rolling back a few inches until I crash into a plate.
[1 point of Fall damage sustained.]
Holy shit. What am I at, 2 health? This cannot be the way I die. Bug attack has got to be more embarrassing than “Tripped over your own prop.” I mean, neither are ideal, but—
The bug is racing back toward me. I don’t know if it’s coming after me because I’m moving, or I’m in its territory, or what, but it doesn’t matter: This is life or death, and I don’t plan to be the one dying.
I recall two of my limbs and they come jetting back; I raise them before me like a barricade. It’s enough to make the insect pause, but my mind is still racing. The other two pieces of glass I send flying at the bug like spears. It notices one of them and skitters out of its way. But my other glass is coming from the other direction, and this one strikes home. I feel a nauseating crunch as my glass sinks into its shell.
[4 points of Piercing damage dealt,] Echo says.
The cockroach writhes. There’s no sound, no screams, as it contorts around my tiny glass blade. I stare in horror. I feel like throwing up. It’s suffering. And even though I’ve done exactly what I’d intended to, I immediately regret everything.
I shake myself from my shock. I have to finish this. I send two more of my shards to pin the creature down and keep it from rolling about, and I send the third toward its head. I hesitate a moment. Never before in my life have I felt bad about squishing a bug. But it sure feels a hell of a lot more real when you’re down here at eye-level. When you could have been the one just as easily squished.
I plunge my last piece of glass into the insect, and gradually, the twitching stops.
I want to be sick.
[Level Up!] Echo announces. A comforting warmth wraps around me as stats appear in my mind.
[Name: Kanin]
[Species: N/A]
[Class: None]
[Level: 2]
[HP: 10/10]
[Bonus HP: 8]
[Mana: 11/11]
[Void: 25%]
[Role: Homunculus]
Wow. Not even an increase in my HP? And one whole extra point of Mana. I’m thrilled. All it will take is a hoard of slaughtered cockroaches to start gaining some momentum from these level-ups. But the broken glass at the top of my vision now appears healed, so there’s that at least.
Fighting back another wave of disgust, I begin to extract my pieces of glass from the bug carcass, but Echo isn’t done with me yet. [Select Class.]
Um. Class?
[Class options available,] Echo continues.
[Warrior | Brawler | Ranger]
[Bruiser | Guardian | Rogue]
[Wizard | Healer | Artificer]
Er… Do I have to do this now?
[Select Class,] Echo repeats.
I give an internal sigh. I guess that’s a yes. Alright Echo. What will classes do for me? I’m familiar with the concept from my gaming days, but I don’t trust this world to be straightforward.
[Classes: Specialties which promote access to different branches of skillsets and spells, generally focused on Strength, Health, or Mana, and with emphasis on offense, defense, or utility.]
So actually pretty straightforward then. But most of these class names don’t mean anything to me. Bruiser? Brawler? Yeah, no thanks, those sound exactly like things I don’t want to be doing in a fragile glass body. And I am certainly no Warrior—insect crusades aside.
What did that leave… artificer, healer, wizard, ranger, rogue, guardian.
Not feeling very capable guarding anything but my emotions at the moment. Isn’t Noli a ranger? I guess that would be fine. And Trenevalt is a wizard, obviously.
[Sanity Level: 91%]
The cleaning Command starts to nibble at my mind once more. Moving the soap into the basin had helped stem some of the Command’s insistence, but I guess leaving dead cockroaches scattered about doesn’t help the “Cleaning” quota. The longer I delay, the worse the Command is going to get. I really don’t have time for this.
I don’t know, Echo, I say. What do you think’s best? Not like she’d actually have an answer.
[The majority of your abilities have utilized spells which consume Mana,] she says, surprising me. [With a secondary focus on Offense. The Wizard class uses Mana as a primary focus with Offense as a secondary focus. Alternately, a Ranger class has a primary focus of Strength with a secondary focus of Utility.]
Wizard or ranger, then, huh? Strength is certainly not one of my areas of expertise. If I want to focus on building up my ability to communicate—and figure out how to get back to my real body—focusing on magic is probably my best bet.
The Command static is turning into an uncomfortable buzz, so it’s time to just make a decision.
Wizard, I tell Echo, wishing I’d had more time to talk it over with Noli. Let’s go with Wizard.
[Class selected,] Echo says.
[Arcane Specialty: +10 to Mana. Ambitious Spirit: +5 to Attack. Status updated.]
Look at me, leveling up and gaining shit. Sorry, cockroach. Your sacrifice was not in vain. Now I’m a wizard. A tiny, glass wizard.
[Sanity Level: 90%] Echo reminds me.
But there’s no time to celebrate my upgrade now: It’s time to get scrubbing.