STATUS
NAME: CLONE #52
TIER: 4
LEVEL: 23
23 OUT OF 45 LEVELS REACHED FOR TIER 4
Every time I broke through to a new Tier, I couldn’t deny the shock of thrill that always made me want to grin like a maniac.
45 levels in Tier 4….
Dex had been right. It would get more challenging to Tier up every time. There were 20 more levels in Tier 4 than in Tier 3, and Dex had also said something about how leveling up within higher Tiers would take an increasing amount of essence every time.
The desire to continue climbing the Tiers faster made it tempting to use up all the essence I could gather toward cultivating, including the hefty landwalker core Gareth had given me. But in my current poverty-stricken situation, that wasn’t logical. As soon as I had a steady supply of credits and the means to provide for myself, I could turn all of my focus to cultivating–including draining any cores I might come across in the future.
Maybe joining the elite scout support group will pay me well.
I didn’t know how much money I’d receive from a single excursion just as a scout support, but maybe this group Gareth wanted to enlist me for would pay even more.
I might as well try to find out….
TIER 4 SKILL:
SKILL SNARE LEVEL 2
-THIS SKILL ALLOWS THE USER THE ABILITY TO READ ANOTHER’S
ESSENCE USED WHEN THEY CAST A SPELL, MAKING IT POSSIBLE FOR CLONE
#52 TO STEAL SAID SPELL. BUT ONLY AS LONG AS THAT PERSON IS USING A
SKILL RANKED TIER 5 OR LOWER. THIS SKILL CAN BE USED ONCE PER 5
MINUTES.
Finally, I thought. I almost uttered the word aloud, which would have assuredly taken me out of my meditative trance.
I was thrilled. I now had a Skill that could give me more use than my others had in this world. Before Tier 4, I could only steal spells from those using spells Tier 3 and below, and most–if not all–who I had to associate or fight with were higher than Tier 3 and would most likely be sticking to their higher-Tiered spells while in action.
My thoughts rounded back to those dreaded words I saw every time I leveled up, “Clone #52.” Right at the top of the first screen, listed as my name, and even showing up again in the description of my Tier 4 Skill. I hated it. I wasn’t a number–I was a human being, clone or not.
I am Rayden Grim, I told myself for the millionth time like I did on every occasion my clone status came up.
However… Dex was gone. Did I really need to reassure myself of my unique personality, traits, and goals? That I was Rayden, not just Clone #52? The AI in my head had been the sole constant reminder that I was a numbered experiment created by a dead god. Surely I could…
The simple font displaying “Clone #52” on the internal screen in my head shook as I subconsciously urged the words to erase from existence. The words shook like someone was shaking ink off a sheet of paper. And as the words trembled before my mental will, they faded… all the way until brand new words replaced them: “Rayden Grim.”
I felt myself on the outside of my trance, taking a deep breath, trying to keep my body calm. I reread the top of the screen:
STATUS
NAME: RAYDEN GRIM
I could vaguely feel a singular tear bite at the corner of one of my eyes. My name… That’s my name.
I only allowed myself a moment to revel in the much-needed change that had finally happened, then decided I was a grown man–well, almost a man. I was nearly 17–close enough, right? And a man wouldn’t sit on his mattress early in the morning with his legs crossed underneath him and crying over a non-living stat screen calling him by the name that the only real father he’d ever known had given him.
I mentally flipped to the next screen in my head.
STATS
MIGHT: 21
AGILITY: 18
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VITALITY: 16
INTELLIGENCE: 21
WISDOM: 17
WILLPOWER: 18
FREE STAT POINTS: 126
I hadn’t forgotten that I still hadn’t allocated my stat points from my last cultivation, and now they were piling up. Even so, I still felt hesitant to assign points anywhere without some sort of advisement.
“Dex, are you there?”
I knew Codex most likely wouldn’t answer my calls. He’d been silent for nearly three days now–unable to–or ignoring, I didn’t really know–every time I tried to talk to him.
I slowly allowed my consciousness to slip out of my trance, deciding once again not to allocate any points yet. My first training session with Nic started in just over an hour. He was still my best option to seek advice from. I would allocate the points after I had a chance to discuss his thoughts about it.
***
Instead of allowing me any chance to ask questions, including where he thought I should allocate my 126 free stat points, Nic put me straight to work. I quickly learned that, no, I definitely had not gotten enough rest last night.
“Again!” Nic yelled at me for the 50th time. And yes, I was keeping count.
With a heavy exhale, I waved my right fingers over my nose and summoned a blob of water–water that came from a singular bucket that Nic had brought for our training purposes. I didn’t have the strength to form a blade, hammer, or anything with the water. Imagining a weapon in my mind was as far as my strength would allow me after casting the water manipulation spell 50 times! My blob hovered over the water bucket precariously as if it would splash back into the container at any second.
“Now, strip your spell’s essence–all of it!”
Nic really didn’t have to yell at me, especially now that I knew exactly what he wanted me to do after–yes, I’m going to say it again–50 times! I stared at the floating, misshapen water ball and called every last stream of essence within it to come back to me and, along with them, the streams that the casting of the spell had attracted.
The essence had been acting like a sticky solvent within the ball of water. As soon as the streams slipped out of my spell, each water droplet splashed over the mouth of the bucket, most making it back into the container. I only felt a light mist over my face as the water fell.
As the essence flowed into my Soul, my entire body felt warm, and I smiled, some of the exhaustion from casting the spell over and over again slipping away.
“Now, use that essence in your body,” Nic said from his corner of the empty arena.
The arena shared similarities to the one I had dueled Cinthara in, but this one didn’t house any seats for a large audience. It seemed intended for precisely what Nic and I were doing: private training. A simple weapons rack with strangely lit rods and two swords lined one short wall. Three wooden benches surrounded us on the edges of the oval-shaped room, providing seating for half a dozen or so onlookers if needed, and my boots stood firm against the rough stone training ground. The construction of the floor created enough friction to make someone feel steady on their feet while possibly sparring with an opponent.
“You mean, channel the essence through my armor?” I said.
Nic’s helmet shook back and forth. “No, channel it through your arms. Your legs. Every part of you. Not your equipment.”
I didn’t know how to do that. I knew how to send essence to my core–how to picture it running through a magical item like my armor or spear, but… Could I actually use essence to enhance my own muscles–bones–any physical part of myself?
I closed my eyes shut and dropped my arms to my side, trying to relax and trying to picture what I wanted the essence to do–similarly to how I pictured guiding streams to my core while cultivating. But in this case… I didn’t know what I was supposed to imagine.
“Your Soul now knows the essence you have recycled for the spell very well.” Nic switched to speaking at a normal volume. “That’s why I had you recycle the same streams so many times. Now your body should acclimate to the streams with no issues.”
I peeked through a slit in one of my eyes and pursed my lips. “No issues? Well, I can’t seem to figure out how to do what you want me to, so… I’m finding lots of issues.”
Nic hushed me and took two steps closer, lowering his voice even more, “You have to find a place of absolute calm within your mind, even when chaos surrounds you. And trust me, you will want to use this technique in the midst of a fight, so you need to get good at finding that calmness no matter the circumstances.”
I sighed but followed his direction. I unclenched my tense fists and dropped my shoulders.
“Now, read the essence within your Soul.”
“How–”
“You do it every day, Rayden. You read the essence around you to know what to do to draw every stream to your Soul. And you had to read the essence used to originate that water manipulation spell of yours before you stole it and replicated it.”
That made sense. Everything Nic said made sense, and I could feel it. I always felt a strange, almost intimate connection with every essence stream that passed through my Soul… like I knew them on a personal level. If essence had best friends or favorite colors, I could probably tell you. I don’t know a better way to describe the subconscious link I established with every stream that passed through my Soul than that they become a part of me.
As that realization sank into me, my body relaxed even more. I felt light–free from distractions and hyper-aware of the essence pumping through me as if the streams belonged in my body just as much as my blood did.
My thoughts intertwined with the fluttering aspirations of the streams. They all had one goal that aligned with mine in a beautiful way: to find guidance and purpose. Everything within both my conscious and subconscious self turned a shimmering blue as the essence and I became one. Power shot through my arms, my legs, my brain….
My eyes fluttered open, and I gasped from shock. I felt hot–scorching hot. Invisible flames licked through my skin, muscle, and all the way to my bones. And then the pain left with just a quick blink of my watery eyes.
The magical blue of essence engulfing my vision dissipated like wind blowing away steam, and everything before me became hyper-clear. I could see everything and in perfect detail. I could count every speck of dust dotting the floors and walls, every sanded grain in the wood of the bench to my left, and I could even see the pores in Nic’s hands while he still stood four feet away from me.
In fact…
I took one step closer to the other clone, then another, peering directly at his helmeted face as I did. And then I saw through his ridiculous covering. My heightened vision only enhanced the helmet’s extremely slight transparency by a small fraction. Still, I caught sight of his eyes–my eyes. Just older and… sadder. I had plenty of trauma and heartache, but there was no mistaking the misery that darkened the blue in his gaze. It struck me that I really knew nothing about this man and what he must have gone through.
Nic seemed to notice where my eyes stared and subtly turned his head to the side, obscuring any view I might have of his face.
“Well done,” he said.
“How can you tell I succeeded?”
“It’s subtle,” Nic replied, moving further away from me. For some reason, even though I knew his identity, he still didn’t want me to see his face. “But you are slightly taller. And bigger in some areas. Take a look for yourself.”
I glanced down at my arms first. Nic was right–the contour of my muscles was more defined, and my armor hadn’t yet caught up to the increase in size as the plating fit oddly around my biceps and even my calves.
“Test it.”
“Test what?” I said, staring at my legs. They really were a little longer.
“Your new strength.”