Dr. Brown quickly read through his notes one more time as he walked down the hall, running his hands through his disheveled hair before stepping through the door of the conference room where his audience waited.

Normally, Dr. Brown would be honored, yet terrified, to speak in front of such a prestigious group. At just a glance, he recognized the faces of the president, secretary of defense, and the chairman of the Center for Disease Control in the waiting crowd. But now, he was just ready to get it over with.

He was considered the ‘foremost expert in Numbers research’ in the world. He had over fifty published papers on different phenomena regarding the Numbers, but he wasn’t sure how that prepared him to analyze what was going on in the world now. This was completely different from anything he had ever seen before! He had barely slept in the last four days, desperately pursuing answers to questions that he never could have imagined would be asked.

But to be honest, the complete shift in the way the Numbers functioned was not what most interested him. True, his entire life’s work was dedicated to understanding the Numbers, and this development was ground-breaking in the extreme, but it didn’t even compare to the existence of skills. Abilities that, by all logic or science, should be completely impossible! The change in the Numbers would have huge effects on human society. The new skills? They could affect humanity's fundamental understanding of reality.

It was clear that the skills were at least somewhat based on the desires of the recipients, gaining attributes or abilities of monsters those recipients killed. But beyond that, he could see no pattern as to what skills were possible to obtain, no indication as to what new abilities were within reach. So far, it seemed like the answer was: all of them. Yesterday he even saw a report of a self-described ‘furry’ having grown a tail, dog ears, and whiskers after killing some dog-like monster!

Dr. Brown gathered his thoughts when he realized his audience was still waiting for him to start. There would be plenty of time for analysis of the skills later...assuming the people in front of him could prevent society from collapsing before then. Dr. Brown organized his papers, cleared his throat, and began.

- Dr. Brown, Inclusion +4 days 06:11 hours

“Hey Pallas, can I talk to you?”

It’s been two hours since our last break and my conversation with Styx. The last two hours have done nothing for my confidence to have this discussion, but I’ve resigned myself to it. In the same way I needed to be a leader for my friends by giving direction when they were lost and paralyzed by fear and indecision, I need to lead now by helping Pallas in a way that my other friends might not be able to.

Pallas looks at me curiously and nods. From the other side of the clearing I hear Styx’s voice. “Hey Melete, let’s go to the bathroom. I’ll keep watch for you.”

“What? But I don’t have to go,” Melete replies.

Styx grabs the confused Melete’s arm and begins dragging her away, glancing over her shoulder at me and Pallas as she does so. “Well, you can watch for me while I go, then.”

I’m glad they’re giving us some privacy. Talking about emotions and potential psychological trauma is already hard enough when alone. An audience would make it that much harder. Funnily enough, I don’t feel self-conscious about Sam listening in from where it’s keeping watch in the branches over our heads.

Pallas isn’t stupid, and his gaze follows the forms of Melete and Styx as they tromp away from our temporary camp before turning to me with a single raised eyebrow.

“I was talking to Styx,” I start, wringing my hands nervously, “and we’re worried about you...are you okay?”

Pallas stares at me for a few moments, finally speaking once he realizes that I’m finished. “Uh, yeah. I mean, I’m doing okay. As well as could be expected, considering what we’ve been doing.”

Huh. Now what? “That’s good. Not that we think you’re doing badly, or anything. I think you’re doing fine. We all would be dead if it weren’t for you. Probably multiple times. At the very least, we would still be prisoners of Carscott. And most of the monsters...” I take a deep breath when I realize I’m rambling, taking a moment to gather my thoughts. “It’s just...your skill.”

“Ah,” Pallas replies with his deep voice, and he averts his gaze from my own, staring at the ground.

I open my mouth to explain further, to reiterate Styx’s thoughts of his silence and ‘resonating’ with that skill being a warning sign. But instinct, and perhaps my higher than ever wisdom Number, urges me to stay quiet. So I stand and wait, the silence stretching.

After thirty seconds I’m second-guessing my instinct, and I am about to speak up when Pallas’ voice reaches me, deep and quieter than ever.

“...what would you do,” he asks, “if someone offered to take you back? If you could make everything go back to how it was before? No skills, no monsters, no inclusion, nothing?”

“I’m...not sure,” I reply. But that’s a lie, and I know it the second it leaves my mouth. The truth, though, is too terrible to admit. That as much as the deaths of our classmates sadden me, that as painful, terrifying, and traumatic these last few weeks have been...I’ve loved it. That as horrible as all the deaths have been, for the first time in my life I feel as if I’m truly living, that I can make a difference, that I can have passion and drive with friends by my side. The lows have been so low, true. But the highs have been oh so high -- and I’ll take that any day over the constant middling hum my life had felt before the inclusion.

Pallas seems to see through my lie, but he’s gracious enough to not call me on it. “I know what I’d do,” he says instead. He looks up and meets my eyes, and I take a step back. The intensity in his stare is like nothing I’ve ever seen from the most passive member of our small group. “I’d take it. In a second. In an instant, I’d go back to how it was. I’m not like you, Atlas. I’m not made for this...every night I go to bed terrified that I won’t wake up. But I’m even more terrified that I will wake up, because then it means that I’ll just have another day of this...terror. This constant struggle, this inescapable fight for life. I just want to escape.” He sighs, and suddenly the fire in his eyes is gone, back to his normal placid gaze. “I just want to escape. But I can’t. I know that. I know you depend on me, and I won’t leave you like that.”

Silence descends once again, and I struggle to think of how to reply. Luckily, Pallas starts speaking again before it gets awkward.

“I have a brother, you know,” he says. “Younger. He’s barely ten years old. I’m not worried about my parents, they can take care of themselves better than I’d ever be able to. But Zach? He’s the kind of kid who’ll jump off of the roof if someone isn’t watching him for five minutes. He needs protecting. If it weren’t for him...I don’t know if I’d still be here, fighting so hard to stay alive.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m here for you too, though. All of you.” Melete and Styx have rejoined us in the clearing as Pallas finishes his speech. I heard them approaching a few seconds earlier, but didn’t want to interrupt him. “More than almost anything, I want to escape this hell we’re in, to just fade away like this skill allows me to do. But more than that, I want to protect my brother. And until we find him, I’m here for you.”

Melete runs over from the edge of our camp to Pallas with tears in her eyes, a surprising display of genuine emotion. She drags Styx behind her with her hand, until she lets go and wraps her small arms around Pallas in a hug. “And we’re here for you. Don’t fade, please.”

Pallas looks startled by the contact, finally responding by hugging Melete back, his huge frame enveloping her much smaller body. A second passes, and then Melete’s arm reaches out to the nearby Styx, pulling her close, who in turn reaches out and drags me into the group hug. We stand there, arms wrapped around each other, relishing the contact of friends who have each other’s back.

“Is this the mating ritual you described to me, Atlas?” Sam’s voice interrupts from above, and I’ve never seen a hug end quite as abruptly. We jump away from each other, my friends staring at me while Styx mouths the words ‘mating ritual’ at me with a raised eyebrow. My face heats. “If so, then I apologize for the interruption. But prepare yourself, for we will likely be under attack soon.”

My embarrassment is instantly gone, our group back on the alert in moments. Pallas is already pulling his last pair of earplugs from his pocket, reaching for the axe with his other hand. Styx has a look of concentration on her face, presumably preparing to use her skill in its new area-of-effect mode at a moment’s notice. I activate both my skills, growing skin over my ears while offering a bond to Pallas. He accepts immediately, and the sudden new perspective crashes into me like a wave. But also like a wave, the disorientation passes quickly, and I struggle to use my weakened Adjust: Self skill to modify my fingernails into something approaching weapons. For her part, Melete just stands there, her head whipping back and forth in an effort to spot the approaching monsters.

“What did you see?” I ask Sam, repeating my question through my bond for the deafened Pallas.

“A ‘punch point.’ I only saw one approaching from the direction we are heading, but I presume there are more, as they are a cooperative species. They typically hunt in packs of three to ten, but there have been rare cases of larger groups. Bipedal, they have prehensile tails they use for balance. They have two appendages on their torso which come to a sharp point. These can rapidly extend forward a deceptive distance at great speeds and are their primary means of combat. Do not approach them from the front. Either stay at a distance or attack them from the sides or behind. Unless they have skills, they have no other method of attack.”

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I nod and begin barking out orders. “You heard him, let’s stay at a distance. Melete, use your skill to keep them back. Sam, get higher in the trees, as far as you can from Melete’s skill. If you can withstand it, use your illusions to distract. Styx, we’ll need you to harry them if they get close. Pallas finish them off if you see an opening. If we need to move, I’ll call it out. We’ll say it’s approaching from the west, and towards that big tree is north. Melete, watch our east side in case any try to sneak around.” I reach out with my skill and request a bond with Melete, wincing when she accepts. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to function during battle with two bonds active, but for now the more information I have, the better. If it gets too chaotic, I can drop the bonds at a moment’s notice.

Pallas, Styx, and I face the direction Sam saw the approaching monster while Melete watches behind us, the direction she faces having little effect on her skill. Sam scuttles higher into the trees and hides, hopefully able to assist despite the close proximity to Melete’s skill.

The tension grows as we wait for the monsters to appear. With my ears blocked, all I can hear is the rushing of the blood in my veins and my own beating heart. But there’s no breeze, and so when I see a faint rustle of movement in the trees I immediately know what it is.

The silhouette looks human, at first. But as it moves slowly closer, with a shambling walk that weaves between the trees, the differences make themselves apparent. While it has eyes, a nose, and a mouth where it normally would appear on a human, there’s no sign of any ears or neck. The head widens at the base to merge with its torso, the increased size of the chin allowing for a mouth that is wide and full of teeth, more reminiscent of a shark than a person.

It’s shorter than I am, but just barely. The legs are bent in a permanent looking low crouch, and its arms are likewise scrunched up against its torso. I can’t make out much about the arms, which Sam deemed its most dangerous weapons, but I can see that they end in sharp points, similar to a jousting lance.

It shambles closer, only twenty yards away, when additional punch points appear behind it. I count three more, before something forms in front of the first, the faint ghostly outline of a person. Before I have time to be confused, I hear Sam’s voice.

“I am showing you a weak version of the illusion I am using on the punch point. Pay attention.”

I nod, thankful, and refocus on the first of the monsters. It had frozen at the sudden appearance of a new target, but it only hesitates for a moment. It restarts its slow, shambling walk forward. But then, when it is five feet away from where the faint, illusionary human stands, it moves.

Fast, is all I can think as the pointy hand shoots forward to impale the illusion. I barely have time to see the fully extended arm, long and with way too many joints, before it is already retracting in preparation for another attack.

I can see now why Sam urged us not to try and engage them head-on. Although, if they can only punch directly forward, they’ll be virtually defenseless as long as we can approach them from the side or back, either via a distraction or by surrounding it. They each have long, thick tails that wave gently over their shoulders, but they don’t seem useful for combat.

Sam’s illusion has disappeared, and the leading monster looks around in confusion. But it doesn’t stay confused long, refocusing on our group and easing forward once again.

Melete is diligently watching the opposite direction for any monsters approaching from that side, so I send her a mental message of sing when I deem the punch point is close enough. She obliges, and the effect is immediate.

The first punch point lurches backward, for the first time its gait no longer smooth. Its head and torso swing back and forth as if to identify the source of the attack before once more pointing at us. It takes a single, slow step forward. Melete’s song continues. The monster takes another step, only ten yards away now. Another step. It hesitates, a strange groan escaping its mouth, and then takes two steps in quick succession.

But then it seems as if Melete’s skill is too much for it, and it rapidly backpedals. It retreats until it is about twenty yards away, where it regroups with the rest of the punch points. They fidget where they stand, eyeing us through the trees but reluctant to brave the pain of Melete’s skill.

The next few minutes pass slowly. The monsters are unwilling to move any closer while she sings, but also unwilling to give up what they must see as mostly defenseless prey, content to wait us out at the edge of her skill’s range.

We need a plan.

“Stop,” I say to Melete, echoing my words through my bond so she knows I’m talking to her. She continues her song until the end of the verse, her voice finally drifting off into silence. Over the last few minutes she’s glanced back enough to know what’s going on and that we aren’t in any immediate danger, but she’s still diligently watching for the approach of any monsters from the back.

The punch points shuffle uneasily in the silence, hesitant to trust the new absence of pain.

“Sam! How many can you affect at once?!” I yell to the trees, hopeful that it’s still within range of my voice.

“I can affect all four, although not to the same degree that I can a single one. My illusions will be weaker if they are spread out.”

I nod. “Try to lead them to the sides of us, and we’ll take them out.”

“It will be difficult to hide your presence from all of them, especially as they move closer.”

“That’s fine,” I reply. “Try to focus most on the ones closest to us. Once we take a few out it’ll get easier. We’ll do our best to be quiet as well.” My words are echoed through my bond to Pallas. I follow up with a direct mental message to him. We’ll try to give you an opportunity. You’re our main threat.

He nods, which I only can perceive by the wobbling of his perspective through our bond.

By the time we have our plan organized, the first punch point has regained its bravery, leading the others closer to our small group. Their pace has slowed even further compared to before, scared of the reemergence of the painful song. I wince at how close together they are now -- if we had used this plan from the start, we would have been able to take down the first before the other three were even close. Now, though, we’ll only have a few seconds to kill the first before the rest are upon us.

But I have no more time to reflect on what could have been. The leading punch point steps around the last tree at the edge of our camp, only a few yards away. It’s clear now, though, that its focus isn’t directed towards us, but instead it’s looking a few feet to the right of Pallas.

The monster takes one more step. And then its left arm shoots forward, impaling nothing but empty air. There’s a split second where I can see confusion in the eyes of the monster, but it’s already too late. Pallas steps forward and swings his axe into its exposed right side.

I haven’t paid much attention to how much my companions’ Numbers have risen since the river, afraid to see what ratio of the deaths caused by the fire are my ‘fault.’ But apparently, the amount they’ve gained is not small, and Pallas has continued to invest his gains into strength.

The monster is almost completely bisected with a single swing, the axe getting wedged in its spine. The other monsters have followed the first, their focus directed to the same space where the first punched, but with the swing of Pallas’ axe a loud, eerie groan escapes the mouth of the leader. The rest turn in its direction.

I’ve already started my approach. They don’t react to my running form, and I crash into the side of the second-closest punch point, reaching out with my fingernails to rake across its face. Styx follows me and swings with a stick at the same monster’s head, but despite her speed, her attacks lack the strength and weight to cause serious damage.

My nails, however, are razor sharp and half an inch long. It’s hard for me to judge, but its skin seems weaker than that of a human, and my nails tear deep into its body with hardly any resistance.

The monster collapses on the ground beneath me. I make sure that the dangerous arms are pointing to the side before resuming my assault, tearing at where the throat would be on a person. Blood soaks my fingers, and then my hands, as I claw my way deeper into its flesh, a low groan escaping the monster. The arms shoot out to the side, not even coming close to hitting me.

Engrossed in my attack, I notice the other punch points too late.

From Pallas’ perspective, I see the closest punch point turn my direction, Sam’s illusions unable to force it to ignore the extremely violent death of its neighbor. Mentally, I yell through my bond to Melete to Sing!, but I know it’s too late -- a little pain won’t be enough to stop its attack.

But then suddenly, Styx steps forward, feet away from the monster. Its eyes move away from me and the savaged body of its companion to her much closer form, its torso spinning to correctly angle its punch. And then its arm shoots forward.

The arm is fast, blindingly fast. But so too is Styx. She turns her body away from the approaching punch, twisting desperately from the dangerous point. At the last moment, she reaches up with her hand and slaps the side of the lance-like appendage, adjusting the trajectory even further from her shoulder.

Despite this, she can’t avoid the attack completely. Styx lets out a cry of pain as a splash of blood flies from her shoulder. The punch point is retracting its arm while angling its torso to aim its second arm at Styx. But before it can fire, Melete is singing once again, causing the punch point to wince.

It takes a moment to recover, but a moment is too long. Styx dodges back away from the monster while holding her wounded shoulder with her other hand, the punch point’s second arm not long enough to reach her. And before it can chase or choose to retreat from the resurgence of the painful song, Pallas is there, swinging his axe. Once again, a single swing brings it down.

There is only a single punch point left standing, and Pallas drops his wedged axe to back away from the sole remaining threat. It seems confused, unsure of whether to attack or to flee. Eventually, it chooses to attack, but the only creatures it can see to target disappear as soon as its arms pass through them. It punches again and again as the seconds pass, hitting nothing but air, as the pain of the song around it grows. Finally, it turns to flee, only for its retreat to be cut short by a swing of Pallas’ recovered axe, invisible to the monster even to the end.

S: 153

D: 144

W: 370

I: 312

C: 100

37 (+37)

Skills: Adjust:Self, Bond:Mental