The beliefs of the ‘ideal soldier’ all changed, however, with the wildly successful 16th platoon of the Palvan military. An experimental elite unit, each soldier was required to have a minimum of only 200 strength and dexterity, but also required to have at least 500 in one of the five attributes. This diverse group of specialist soldiers was widely expected to fail spectacularly. But in the early battles of the War of 1897 this platoon single-handedly created miraculous victories in the face of what appeared to be inevitable defeat, most notably in the Battles of Carsus and Vittae. Since then, elite units in the majority of armies around the world emphasize specialists in every Number, rather than just focusing on the physical attributes.
- Excerpt from ‘Numbers of War: A Historical Look,’ by Chang
There’s an immediate gasp following my statement, but I consider it a good sign that they haven’t dismissed the idea out of hand.
“Hear me out first,” I start, cutting off whatever Styx is about to say. “We’re running extremely low on food and supplies -- if we’re going to make it all the way to the next town, we need to stock up. On food mostly, but also water, medical supplies, and even clothes.”
“That’s all stuff we can find on the farms. No need to go into town.” Styx states.
“True. But most importantly: we need a map.” Styx tilts her head, considering. “We have no idea where we are, aside from just outside of this town. Unless we follow the road, we’ll be completely lost -- and we might get lost even IF we follow the road. And the odds of finding a map randomly in one of the farmhouses isn’t high. When’s the last time you’ve seen a physical map, outside of gas stations?”
I can see my audience still isn’t entirely convinced. I lower my voice a bit more, and continue.
“I know there are monsters in the town -- at least a few of them. The farmhouses MIGHT be completely empty, completely safe for us to explore...but they might not be. There could be monsters in every farmhouse out there -- we just don’t know. “
I see Melete’s hands shaking slightly as we talk about the monsters, and she buries them in her oversized sweater.
“I know it’s tough, and scary, and honestly I really don’t want to go back there, but I think we have to. Not tonight though -- we’ll at least wait until tomorrow. And if you can think of a better alternative, I welcome any ideas. But right now, and for the last hour, I’ve been wracking my brain, and I can’t think of anything.”
I sigh in dejection. I really don’t want to go back into that town, not after seeing those two huge troll monsters. But I spent all of dinner trying to come up with a different solution, and nothing better came to mind.
After a few moments of sitting in silence. Melete shrugs and says, “I can’t think of a better idea. It seems like it may be necessary…”
Before anyone else voices any thoughts, I jump in, “We don’t have to come up with a definite plan tonight. Let’s sleep on it, and we can do more planning tomorrow morning.”
Styx looks much more relieved with this plan of action and nods in satisfaction. Pallas hasn’t commented but I assume he’ll follow along with whatever we end up deciding. It’s a bit of relief, knowing that whatever we do he’ll be the solid rock I can always count on.
I keep thinking of potential plans -- if we go into town tomorrow, what’s the best way of doing it? If a troll monster finds us, how will we escape? What other supplies do we need to stock up on?
I shake my head. I’m starting to get ahead of myself. The plans aren’t finalized yet, and running my thoughts around in circles more tonight won’t be useful to anyone. It’s sunny out, still a few hours before we can even think about going to sleep. Pallas has volunteered to take the watch until bedtime, as he’s typically an early riser and will take the last watch of the night.
Melete, as usual, is humming softly to herself, and Styx is picking at the bloody bandage around her right hand. As she begins to unwrap the cloth covering it sticks and she lets out a soft hiss under her breath. I rush over to help.
I bring over a bottle of water as Styx removes the last of the bandage, revealing a thick line of red. The skin around her wound has started to peel back away from the cut. In any other situation I’d tell her to go to the doctor to get stitches, but unfortunately that isn’t an option.
I gently hold her hand in mine as I pour the water over the wound, washing away the dried blood along with any dirt and germs that may have contaminated it. All too soon the water bottle runs out.
“We really do need more supplies.” Styx mentions as I toss the empty bottle back towards the wheelbarrow.
“Yeah.” I answer. I’ve gotten another clean strip of cloth, the remains of one of our sheets stolen from the cabin, and sit across from Styx. We’re both sitting cross-legged as I gently wrap her hand in the cloth.
I realize how close we’re sitting and momentarily lose focus, bumping her cut. Styx hisses in pain.
“Sorry, sorry, one minute.” I reach down to my left arm and add my remaining twenty-six free Numbers into dexterity, before returning to wrapping her hand.
“You don’t have to do that,” Styx says, “I can handle a little clumsiness for now. You shouldn’t waste the Numbers like that.”
“It’s not a waste.” I say as I tie off the wrapping on the back side of her hand. “I was planning on adding some to dexterity anyway.” I mention casually.
We sit there for a few seconds more. I am about to say something when I realize I am still holding her injured hand in my own. I stand up quickly instead.
“Well, I’m going to train for a bit. Let me know if you think of any other plan for tomorrow.” I say and walk away. I find a small open area on the opposite side of a tree from Styx and punch the ground, wincing as one of my knuckles catches a root. I breathe out, trying to regain my calm.
My beating heart eventually starts to slow down. I drop to my hands and feet and start the first of many burpees.
----------------------------------------
I lay down to sleep, trying to find a comfortable space among the leaves and roots. Today has been exhausting. It seems like much more than just a few hours ago that we killed the first troll monster outside of the farmhouse. And it hasn’t gotten any easier since then -- the toils of leadership, the harrowing trip into town, the subtle pressure of continually using my Skill at a higher level than ever before. All of it combines and causes me to drift off as soon as my head hits the ground, despite the less than comfortable bed.
In what seems like an instant, I am jerked back to wakefulness, screaming. Styx and Pallas jerk up and yell out, while Melete comes running through the bushes from where she had been keeping a lookout, small knives clutched in her hands and head whipping around as she searches for the threat.
But there is no monster attack. The pain isn’t a new pain, it’s one I’ve felt before.
My leg injury -- hidden behind my skill all day, the only thing reminding me of it is the subtle pressure of keeping my skill activated. But suddenly, just as I am starting to fall asleep it comes back with a vengeance, waking me up instantly.
I bite my tongue, the coppery taste of blood filling my mouth as I let out a groan. My three friends surround me trying to figure out what is wrong. As Melete continues to swing her knives around searching for any hiding monsters, Pallas and Styx yell questions at me but get no answers. I’m still too surprised myself by the sudden pain to respond.
But when Styx goes down to a knee to pull the blanket off of me in an attempt to get more information, I panic. “Wait!” I yell out, the desperation in my voice luckily stopping her before she touches me.
Still ignoring their questions, I gingerly unroll the blanket from around my body, wincing as I have to shift slightly to lift a corner of the blanket that is caught under my body. As my leg is finally revealed the incessant questions from my companions finally silence and we stare together in horror at the mess that is my left leg.
Everything from the knee down is turned at about a seventy degree angle away from my body. My jeans have a few gashes torn around the left leg and glimpses of skin reveal a gross purple color. The jeans, previously loose on my skinny frame, feel tight around my swollen joint, and I can feel my heartbeat in the pulsing of my skin pressing against the tight fabric.
The silence is finally broken as Melete comes over, having finally given up on her search for any monsters, and asks, “What happened to your leg?”
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
We all three turn our stare to her, and I have to bite back a scathing reply.
She seems to have seen some of my anger in my eyes and amends her question. “I mean, I know what happened to your leg, I guess. But wasn’t it fixed? What happened to your skill?”
I take a deep breath. As much as I want to yell at her for her callous question, I know that’s just the pain talking. I close my eyes and think -- she actually is asking a valid question, there’s no reason to be mad, and I begin to ponder a response.
“...it was never completely gone, actually.” I finally reply, after taking ten seconds to simply breathe and think. “My skill just covered it up, and now…” I shift slightly, and wince as my leg pulses in fire. I squeeze my eyes shut and my breath hisses between my teeth, my teeth grinding so tightly I’m surprised they don’t creak.
They wait patiently for me to regain control, but I’m in no hurry to start speaking again. Pallas finally speaks, “...you fell asleep, right? The skill doesn’t work while you’re sleeping.” Melete’s and Styx’s eyes widen in understanding, and I nod with my eyes closed, tears seeping between my closed lids.
It’s the only explanation I can come up with. And it even makes sense, unfortunately.
Ever since I got the skill, I’ve been practicing non-stop, experimenting with different modifications to my body in unobtrusive and covered locations. Some I constantly change, keeping them on my body for only a split second to test my speed. Some I keep steady, seeing how long I can keep the changes active and how those changes affect other modifications of my skill.
But every morning after waking up, no matter the time or place of my waking, my body is back to its normal state without any of the modifications I had been maintaining before falling asleep. I never considered it as a big deal, as I like my covers and it only takes a minute or two to re-apply any modifications before getting up.
But now that small quirk of my skill, completely forgotten in light of all the other more important things to keep track of, has come back to bite me.
“I’m not one hundred percent sure. It might…” I pause for two breaths, holding in a groan. “It might be something else...but I think that’s probably it.”
They stand in silence for an uncomfortably long period, the only noise the sound of air rushing between my clenched teeth. Finally, Styx poses the question none of them want to ask.
“Is there anything you can do? Is there anything we can do?” I think she already knows the answer, but I’m forced to admit it.
“I don’t…” I start to reply. “No. I’ll just have to fall asleep like this. The pain should fade after a bit.” I gently pull the cover back over my body.
They all continue to stand around me hesitantly looking at the space where my leg is forced into an unnatural angle, now concealed by the blanket. Finally, I exclaim, “What are you waiting for?! Leave me alone so I can sleep!”
My sudden voice breaks them out of their stupor, and they guiltily walk away, Styx and Pallas back to their own sleeping areas and Melete back to where she had been keeping watch. Before Styx lays down, she whispers back to me, “Atlas, are you sure there’s nothing…”
“I’m sure,” I reply, more confidence pushed into my voice than I actually feel. “Just go to sleep. The quicker we sleep, the quicker we wake up.”
The next few hours of my life are the worst I’ve ever experienced, and hopefully the worst I ever will experience.
For the first hour, I lie there motionless, enduring the shooting pain, hoping to relax enough to finally drift off. Any shift of my body brings a spike of agony and adrenaline, taking me even further from the sleep I so crave.
After that first hour, I manage to persuade myself that it’s possible the cancelling of my skill may not have been because of falling asleep and come to the conclusion that the only thing to do is to test it out. With a herculean effort, I adjust my left leg to match my right with my skill.
The shift takes five minutes to pull off, harder than it had been earlier this morning. By the time I’m finished I’m soaked in sweat and gasping for breath, feeling as if I’ve just ran two marathons back to back.
But the sweet release from pain is worth every ounce of effort and strain I can feel in my chest from the skill. Finally, I can rest, I can lay on my side without torment, and hopefully I can sleep.
Two hours after that, I lay wide awake in my spot, staring up at the stars. Styx and Melete have just switched their watches, Melete coming over to Styx’s bedroll to wake her up. My timing may be a bit off, but it seems like they're planning on making their watches a bit longer to cover for mine.
I appreciate the sentiment, useless as it is. It’s not as if I’ll be able to get any sleep tonight anyway. I may as well allow someone else to sleep in my place.
Despite this thought, I continue to lay on my bedroll attempting to force myself to relax. The trouble is that I know that sleeping is what caused my skill to cancel. Or at least I’m almost positive. And so the instant I start to finally relax, when I feel the beginnings of sleep stir in the corners of my mind, adrenaline from the anticipation of pain jerks me back awake.
I try for another hour, with no success. Finally, I come to the only conclusion: I have to try sleeping with my hurt leg again, despite the pain. The exhaustion that clouds my mind, now fueled by another three hours of skill use and adrenaline pumped tossing and turning, feels all encompassing. Maybe the exhaustion will be enough to finally overcome the pain and take me to blissful oblivion.
The instant I work up the courage to finally release the skill’s hold on my leg I feel the pain return. More than that, I can feel my leg turn, shifting back into it’s injured position, unnaturally moving as my bones and tendons separate into a position they were never meant to take.
In that moment, with the exhaustion and stress of the last few days eating at my mind and the pain in my leg pulsing with every beat of my heart, I weep. Quietly, not moving my body at all so as to avoid causing any additional pain, the tears stream down my face. I can’t do this. I’m just a high-schooler.
I weep for my lost Numbers, for my dead classmates, for the danger I’ve faced for the last few days. I weep for the pressure I’m forced to endure, for the monsters we’ll have to face tomorrow and every day in the foreseeable future, for the exhaustion and pain which fills every fiber of my being. But mostly, I weep because I am a kid, I am alone, and I miss home.
----------------------------------------
I’ve managed to recompose myself, and come to a new conclusion. If I’m any judge of the time, it’s about four in the morning, and I’m expecting Styx to change her shift with Pallas in any minute.
Sure enough, I hear some shuffling as Styx walks over the Pallas’ bedroll, touching his shoulder and making sure he’s awake before continuing on over to her own bedroll. Before she can lay down I call out.
“Hey, Styx, Pallas. Um, can you help me for a few minutes?”
Styx immediately turns and walks over, eyes filled with concern as she asks how she can help. I motion for her to wait for Pallas, who takes just a minute longer to wake up before he shuffles over to where I’m laying, blankets pulled away from my body and disfigured leg on display.
When they are both gathered around, I take a deep breath before explaining. “This isn’t working...I can't fall asleep. It just…hurts too much." I'm ashamed to admit my weakness, and quickly continue. "I thought I'd fall asleep after getting tired enough. And honestly, I think I will, eventually. But it's too much. At this rate, I'm not going to be any use to anyone tomorrow. And it's too dangerous out here to be operating at anything less than one hundred percent."
"What do you want us to do?" Styx asks.
"I need to bring the pain down to at least a bearable level. It doesn't have to be perfect, just something less than this constant…pain." I almost say 'agony' but don't want to be dramatic. Although I'm not sure when it crosses over from drama into reality: it's certainly the worst pain I've ever experienced.
"On that note," I continue, "have either of you ever broken an arm?"
Styx and Pallas quickly realize what I'm suggesting, and respond with immediate rejection. Styx in particular seems to be passionately against my idea, but with my insistence and the lack of any alternative, I wear them down. Our heated discussion eventually wakes up Melete, and she volunteers immediately to help me. It's only when Styx realizes that I'll be going through with my plan with or without her, but with Melete as my assistant that she concedes to help. I hear her grumbling the words "insane" and "idiots" under her breath, but I'm relieved to have her helping instead of Melete.
I am lying on the ground, the strap of one of our backpacks clutched between my teeth. Before releasing my skill earlier in the night, I had ripped the left leg of my jeans the rest of the way off, hoping that the less constricting clothing would reduce the pain some. It hadn't worked, but I'm thankful now. My bent leg is on display for all to see.
Styx is seated next to me, holding my thigh a few inches above my knee steady against the ground. Normally I'd be completely embarrassed to have any girl touch me in such a…vulnerable spot, but the pain her touch brings banishes any inappropriate thoughts. For her part, Styx only blushes for a few seconds before remembering her purpose in this operation.
Melete is on watch for monsters, and Pallas is at my feet. We need the strongest of us in his position, in case there's any resistance that needs to be pushed through. He's clearly psyching himself up as he looks down at my foot, and I close my eyes, unable to bear the waiting. Styx is talking to me, keeping up a constant stream of encouraging words, "...it'll be OK, it'll only hurt for a second, you're gonna be alright, we're here for you, it'll be OK…"
I'm not even sure if she realizes what she's saying -- after the first few repetitions, it all starts to blend together in my head. When I feel like the suspense couldn't get any thicker and I'm about to open my eyes and tell Pallas to just get on with it, I feel two hands grip solidly around my calf and wrench my leg back straight.
"MNNNNGGGHHH!!!" I moan through my clenched teeth, tears once again forming in my eyes. There's another spike of pain as Pallas' grip tightens again to make another adjustment to my leg, ensuring it is as straight as he can make it.
And then, I feel a miracle happen as the pain begins to dull. The pain is still there: it hasn't gone away completely, but rather than the sharp, pulsing pain that has been haunting me all night, it's morphed to a slower, throbbing pain. Still present, but tame enough that I think I'll be able to ignore it.
I spit the strap out of my mouth as Styx hands me a nearby bottle of water. They ask me what seems like a hundred variations of how I'm feeling, wanting to make sure that the leg is as good as we can make it for now, but I brush off their insistent questions until they finally leave me alone.
And just as the sun crests the horizon, bathing the surrounding farmland in the first rays of the day I close my eyes and relax, drifting off to a much-needed sleep.
S: 90 (+1)
D:80 (+27)
W: 203 (+1)
I: 42 (+1)
C: 54 (+1)
0 (-26)
Skills: Adjust:Self