I closed my interface and sat down to deliberate potential tags a little more carefully, it didn’t help my heart was about to explode. I wanted to stop making assumptions, but it was impossible. Something had to guide my decisions and I suspected thoughts and prayers weren’t going to cut it. My bloody arm provided the critical hint.

Well, thoughts might. They would have to, as I didn’t like my odds when it came to saying the first impulse which popped into my head and hoping ot would lead to a good skill. Fair enough, aside from a slight complication. While I didn’t consider myself that dumb, I ain’t no genius either. Educated, sure - but clever? Wouldn’t bet my life on it.

I’d have to think less like me and more like someone who had a far more impressive collection of functioning brain cells to rub together. This technique had a name, Dunning-Kruger syndrome or some such. At least I kept finding ways to leverage my life skills in the post-apocalypse, small comforts and all. Goddamnit. Every heartbeat scattered my thoughts.

Problem one, I was clueless about what a skill meant in this context. What I knew for sure was I’d be getting at least one, with probably more in the pipeline considering my level of two. While this might be an all-or-nothing gamble, I doubted it. An element of choice meant there were multiple outcomes, probably a range from bad to good. If they were all bad, I was screwed. If they were all good, my choices wouldn’t matter that much. So it made little sense to assume anything but the range.

The second problem involved figuring out what I needed - another cigarette for one, I lit up. Needed to slow down on the pace but addiction wasn’t doing me any favors there. Too bad. The bone golem hadn’t been partciularly dangerous in the end. The lack of mobility really held it back and now I was wise to its tricks. I could probably take out another without getting hurt. That wasn’t entirely without risk but at least I had some room for error. I felt a little insane and a little badass at the thought, but smart money favored the former over the latter - arrogance got me wounded after all. Crap.

All right, so I had a fair chance of surviving my way to another choice even if I made a shitty pick, as long as the next monstrosity I fought was the same as the last. Fewer guarantees than I’d like but preparing for the infinite unknown was a non-starter. My biggest problem was still that I knew jack shit about sword fighting. I tried reviewing the last fight but came up short instead. As a weapon mage, maybe I’d find answers in the sword itself. I held on to my focus despite the rush.

There was at least some leeway in where I summoned it. I examined the edge and didn’t find any chips despite my hacking frenzy. It was also absurdly sharp and I had to restrain myself from trying to feel the edge. I should’ve spent more time examining the remains but they’d already gone up in smoke.

It could explode, which happened when the Errant tried to pick it up. However, it wasn’t a viable tactic when considering the so-far non-existent rate of... energy… regeneration. Mana, I was just going to call it mana - felt like it had a better ring to it. It also made all of this seem less real, which was of questionable wisdom. Shit, drifting again.

The sword which exploded hadn’t left anything behind and vague recollections of wafting smoke were all I had. Adrenaline paired with tunnel vision, not a great combo.

This wasn’t going anywhere.

More than one skill, I could probably manage for now, expensive magic sword. Repeat gambles afforded me a bad choice, maybe two. The result would guide my next to a ‘safer’ option. The facts justified a high-roll. Okay. Pretend-smart shit was out of the way. Next in line was the creative part, figuring out a good skill-tag.

The idea had come up before. Logistics were key. Moving stuff made the world go ‘round, determined the outcome of wars and all that jazz. It leaned into the shitty video game angle too and I had stuff. Winter jacket could be tied around my waist, even if it didn’t appeal since mobility was my big advantage right now and probably would be for the foreseeable future. I had to carry a sword along too, maybe even multiple if I ever actually regenerated some fucking mana.

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I aimed for the stars. Just had to hope they wouldn’t aim back, again. I opened my interface again, the ‘vocalize skill-tag’ prompt was still there.

“Inventory.”

“Skill chosen: Sheath.”

What? I pulled up the description.

[Sheath]

“Place or withdraw a sword under your control into or from an extra dimensional storage space. You can store up to three swords simultaneously. Range: Touch. Cost: None.”

Again with the out-of-place D&D shit. Not quite what I had in mind here. At a glance the skill seemed kind of useless but perhaps my expectations had been set a little too high. A flashback to my panicked block changed my mind. This had potential. I touched my very sharp magic sword awkwardly with my wrist and thought ‘sheath’. It disappeared.

I made a grip and then thought the same. Suddenly I held it. While sheathed I knew I had one sword... Somewhere. My heart skipped a beat as I got a little excited there. Entranced, I put it away again and then copied my panic maneuver. Once again, life reminded me of my flaws. Everything went just as expected. Shit, heart rate began to pick up again.

This was somewhat catastrophic, as I’d been sitting. In my customary pose of legs extended and crossed at the ankles. I also flinched, which contributed to the catastrophe. My very sharp magic sword fell into my lap, edge first. A calm washed over me as my journey ended there. Or so I thought, but instead I felt a slight weight in my lap and opened my eyes.

It just laid there. The edge didn’t even damage my clothes. Huh. This time I didn’t resist the urge to feel the edge. It felt like a line of pinpricks, so I pressed a little, which resulted in nothing except for the telltale pressure of resistance. Friendly magic sword - neat. Thoughts of turning light sabers off and on mid swing filled my head. Magic was the shit.

I thought the sword away after putting it back in my lap even though it wasn’t touching my skin. I got up. A few more tests confirmed ‘the System’ and I had very different definitions for ‘touch’.

There were about 3 centimeters or so of leeway, good for me. I also discovered the mid-swing-idea wasn’t quite as straightforward as I had thought. I failed to account for the shift in momentum and it made the swing awkward. My lack of swordsmanship turned it into more of a stumble really, so I shelved the maneuver for now. At least the System spared me any time lag between activations as far as I could tell and I amused myself by ‘blinking’ it rapidly.

I tried to find a limit and landed on ‘at the speed of thought’. Couldn’t make it overlap with anything though, in retrospect I’d been a little too preoccupied with mad science to consider the risks there. At least reality hadn’t turned into a glitchy videogame, which wasn’t a lot as far as silver linings went.

I had enough of playing around for now. Another sound check came out clear. Good. I’d gone through a cigarette while messing around and another after I’d finished procrastinating, during which I solved the mystery mana regeneration rate. Specifically, I saw it tick up by one as I double-checked my stats, re-read my ability and skill before heading out.

One mana per hour. Since the speed reading session for stats mentioned improvements by hour and magical endurance going up by spending energy... Yeah, that seemed very likely. I did some arithmetic and first I got confused, but then it checked out. Crap, I’d forgotten to rip off and save the filters.

This wasn’t a good time to be making mistakes. My brains were scrambled, the switch from cozy evening to fighting for my life led to too much emotion, too fast. Nor did I have any System time freeze shit to keep the breakdowns away anymore. While it was hard to keep on track, I held myself together surprisingly well - a little too well in retrospect.

Before I fought the Errant, I’d been a mess. But now I felt mostly fine, a little bored in fact. It didn’t make any sense whatsoever. I tried examining the seething black ball in the back of my mind but even trying to remember the end failed to spark anything significant. There was a sense of comfort in it, like locking myself away in a room. I was no longer tempted to deny reality as much. My chest still pounded even though I’d been at rest for a while now. I wondered whether it would ever really stop – so maybe a little distressed still.

As comforting as the smoking room atmosphere I kept introducing here was, I still desperately needed distractions. The more I thought, the more insane everything seemed. The featureless environment, cigarette butts and flecks of ash aside, provided no avenues for escapism either. I had one certainty though, I couldn’t stay here. At least my ticker calmed down a little. Had to stay on task, take stock and go from there.

My stats were at 10 physical power, 14 physical speed, 12 physical endurance, 14 magical power, 10 magical speed and 12+14 magical endurance. Mana sat at one out of a hundred. At least I could track time. It was officially one hour post apocalypse. I had broken down, recovered, fought and gotten wounded. I’d also made my very first bear-sized kill and leveled up in real life.

It probably wasn’t the best start, but I’d settle for it. Something about that didn’t quite jive with me but I set the thought aside for now, or more likely forever. I needed to do some hippy bullshit of living in the present and focus on the here and now. Live, love, laugh.

Although I’d settle for just live.