Chapter 4

(Tweens)

You have died.

Initializing. . .

New body found. Beginning transfer. . .

Transfer complete

Jarow woke with a scream, shooting upright from the floor. The customary blanket, which seemed to be a staple of every room here, flew off from where it lay on top of him. His eyes darted around as his brain struggled to catch up and decipher his new circumstances. Flat gray walls and a large wooden door filled the entirety of his surroundings.

His heart pounded violently in his chest, and his breath came in quick, ragged gasps as he began to process where he was. Terror gripped him. His eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of danger. His muscles tensed, and he slowly scooted backward until he pressed himself against the wall.

He waited, his mind slowly bringing his few scattered memories back into focus. Slowly, his thoughts began to arrange themselves. A strange small timer appeared in the bottom left corner of his vision, counting upward: 4, 5, 6... The timer triggered his mind to order, and his previous life rushed back into place.

9, 10, 11... He suddenly recalled that he had lived for only 45 hours in his last body. He stared at the little clock as it continued counting. One minute. One minute and one second. He shook his head. It was still so hard to understand, to wrap his mind around what was happening to him.

He began to categorize what he knew: was obviously alive, but definitely not in the body he had before. He looked down at his body. The flabby skin he remembered having was now gone. Instead, he looked down at an extremely young body. Too young. He could only be in his early teens now.

Another major difference was that there didn't seem to be an ounce of fat on his body now. The skin was stretched taut over the small muscles and bones. His legs extended from under him, slender and long, making him question whether they could support a baby, let alone a grown man. Then he realized that he was no longer a man.

His eyes curiously moved to what lay between the skinny legs, to verify his actual sex. He felt his cheeks redden as he looked down at his naked body. “This isn’t my body!” his brain cried out. Yet, from what he saw there, he actually felt more than a little envious. Going from an obese man with an inverted package to this: slender, long and supple unit was incredibly strange and somewhat satisfying, if he were being honest with himself.

Although he felt dirty for even looking there. Something deep inside told him that it was wrong to look at such a young person’s body even as his brain also realized that this was now "his" body.

The conflicting arguments within his mind caused his cheeks to flush and his blood to rush to the more sensitive area of his body of which his gaze had yet to move from. He watched it grow until his mind finally realized what exactly he was staring at and he immediately averted his gaze, his cheeks burning hot with embarrassment.

He grabbed the blanket that had flown off of him as he awoke and covered himself. He then focused on the wall to calm himself and bring his mind and body back to normal, allowing his blood to redistribute to its proper locations. Only then did he move his hands away from his crotch in order to feel his new face.

He felt sharp cheekbones and a long chin as he moved his hands over his face. The feel of the bones lying just underneath the tight skin gave his face a sculpted look as though cut from stone. His mind envisioned his new body, imagining it looking more like a work of art than actual flesh. The skin itself looked like liquid marble, swirling with greens and browns only reinfOrcing the statuesque vision he held within his mind’s eye.

Jarow felt the ridge of his brow leading up to a high forehead. His thin lips stretched beneath a petite nose. He had no eyebrows or facial hair that he could detect, and saw none on his body either. His hands moved upward to feel his pointed ears, which held back a neatly braided head of hair.

"Wait, pointy ears?" the thought surprised him. He reached up and touched them again, feeling the smooth, elongated tips. They were definitely pointed and led up to the top of his head. The cartilage was strong but flexible, and the ears were strangely sensitive. Running his fingers along the ridge made his blood rush to the only covered part of his body once again.

When he saw the blanket begin to rise, he quickly stopped touching his ears and stared at the wall again. After another few moments of calming himself, he turned his gaze to the door.

Before, it had looked like wood, nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary. Now, his eyes detected the grain of the wood. Minute details became focused and clear within the wood. He began to notice the grain swirling around previously unnoticed knots. The swirls and mixtures of colors looked beautiful and orderly, white at the same time natural and chaotic.

The wood itself was a shiny, dark brown, beautiful in its simplicity and strength. But there was an obvious mar: the metal of the flap and latch plate stood out in stark contrast, dark and spotted with oxidation. Black except for the spots of burnt red, it looked dirty and ugly. The thought of having to touch it made Jarow's skin crawl.

Jarow began analyzing the differences he was experiencing. Knowledge he didn't previously know he had was somehow magically being deposited directly into his brain. He wasn't sure if he had given the door and its metal attachments a second thought before, but now details and information were automatically coming into his mind as though he had known this the entire time.

"Am I an elf?" he thought to himself. Held within this seemingly new yet known information held within it a vision of a slender being with pointed ears. The man in his mind's eye wore dawn-colored leather clothing and had a longbow slung on his back with a slim sword at his belt.

Jarow now knew that elves were generally thought of as beings who were very close to nature and long-lived. He knew their senses were greater than humans and that they were generally thought of as the epitome of magical beings, at least amongst themselves, for they could often be very arrogant.

He looked down at his body again. The skin was too delicate, the muscles too sculpted. He examined his hands. The fingers seemed just a bit too long, but perfectly formed. The same could be said for his feet and toes.

He lifted his braid and examined it closely. The dark brown strands, reminiscent of tree bark, exhibited subtle shades of gray and green that intermingled harmoniously. Not a single hair was out of place, the braid impeccably woven. No doubt about it, this was the body of an elf boy.

"A wood elf," he mused, "not a high elf. The hair of a highborn elf would be silver or white." A surge of knowledge had flooded his mind, revealing the elves' extended lifespan as well as subtle racial differences. He pondered whether their aging process mirrored that of humans. Could this body, despite its youthful appearance, actually be fifty years old?

He didn't know how to find out if his assumptions about his species and age were correct. Before he could figure out how to determine the validity of that information, a new thought interrupted his thought process.

He thought about his inventory, and the familiar yellow window appeared before his eyes. The original Soul Coin he had gotten from looting his corpse floated in the top leftmost slot. The remaining slots were still empty.

He began to recall what had happened to his last body in earnest. He hadn't had much when he died, but he did have the silver key, the seemingly living key, which he couldn't put in his inventory. Was it gone now? Could he find his last body? Was that monster that had killed and probably eaten him now loose? Jarow's mind began to race with the possibilities and worry began to flood through him.

He felt somewhat safe in this room, but he also knew he needed to continue his journey to find a way out. The fear and worry that threatened to debilitate him couldn't deter him from moving forward. This place would never feel right, no matter what body he was in.

Despite the door's altered appearance, its vividness amplified by his elven eyes, he instinctively recognized that he was in the same location as before. If nothing else, the pixelation on the walls was now more discernible. He rose to his feet, wondering if the same compulsions of curiosity would once again overwhelm him. He partially hoped they would, motivating him to get up and move, but he also vividly recalled where those feelings had led him and had no desire to experience death again.

He stood up, marveling at how painlessly and easily his young and nimble body moved. He walked to the door, and although his hand trembled with this body’s disgust at the thought of touching the putrid metal, he grabbed tight and lightly pulled on the ring.

The door creaked and shifted slightly, confirming that it was indeed unlocked. However, this also meant that it was one of those doors with rusted hinges that squealed when opened. He took a deep breath to brace himself for the unpleasant task of opening it, using both hands to grip the metal ring. With all his might, he pulled, and the door grudgingly yielded. Despite his small stature and limited strength, he managed to open the door after a few strenuous attempts.

Once the door was open wide enough, Jarow stepped into the hallway and saw that the doors on the other side were all standing open. He then looked at the doors along the side of the hallway that he was standing on and slapped his forehead in disbelief.

He had pulled the door from the inside, just like he had done when leaving the first room he was in. "Are you kidding me?" he thought to himself.

The doors he had thought were locked actually just swung inwards, he realized. He had wasted all that time in his previous body trying to pull them open because of the ring on the outside. It finally dawned on him that all he had to do was push on the doors on this side of the hallway to get them to open.

It made no sense why the doors would all open in the same direction, but nothing in this place made a lot of sense to Jarow anyway.

Jarow couldn't help himself and burst out laughing; but the voice that emerged was completely alien and unfamiliar to him. It wasn't unpleasant, however. It was musical and clear, like the sound of a wooden pan flute played into a bamboo wind chime. The sound was so strange and beautiful that Jarow began talking just to hear his voice again.

"The moon wears glasses," he giggled. "I ate a potato and it came out my bum." He giggled again. "Why was six nervous? Because seven eight nine!" He erupted into uproarious laughter.

It took a few minutes for him to regain his composure. He wondered if it was because this body was so young that it was susceptible to such juvenile humor. He wiped the tears from his eyes and stood up straight, having doubled over from laughing. Completely forgetting his worries for the moment.

It felt good to just laugh, to let go of the fear and apprehension that this place exuded. He felt good, his body was free of pain, and his eyes were sharper than ever. He possessed an amazing voice and body. "I'm going to try to stick with this one for a while longer than the last," he declared to the walls of the hall.

Once he finished exploring his voice, Jarow moved to the next door down the hall on the side he was on. He was almost certain he was correct, but he needed to push another door open to be certain. It took more effort than he thought it should, the hinges being rusty like the one he had come out of, but the door finally opened.

“Okay, I would definitely like to be a little stronger,” Jarow said aloud once the door was open. “No monsters in sight.” He couldn't help but talk out loud now. He loved the sound of his new voice, which filled him with a sense of natural wonder and peace.

The compulsion to check each door was gone. Instead, he felt young and carefree. He wanted to skip, run, and laugh. Resisting these urges was actually difficult. His mind kept asking if he could run fast enough to catch the fog.

Instead, Jarow decided to try something different. He knew the monster that had killed him was in the direction of the open doors, so he chose to go the opposite direction. Opening each door would wear out his small body too quickly, and there was always the possibility of finding another monster. So, instead of just opening the doors, he decided to only open the tray flaps instead. If he found something interesting in any of the rooms, then he would open the door.

With his new strategy in place, Jarow moved down the hallway at a much faster pace. However, even pulling open the tray flaps on the doors proved challenging at times, causing his delicate fingers to ache after a while. Many of the flaps were stuck and required extra effort. To protect his hands, he gathered another blanket and wrapped it around his hand like a mitten.

Each room he peered into was the same: devoid of everything except a thin blanket. He would open the tray flaps of the doors, one after another, scan the room, and then move on. The monotony was overwhelming, nothing changed, nothing new appeared.

Jarow's boredom grew with each passing minute. He watched the timer as it ticked relentlessly forward, marking the passage of time that felt like an eternity. He continued the tedious task of pulling the tray flaps, hour after hour, with no other distraction. The thought of turning around and heading back the other way, in search of the room with the window or the bug, crossed his mind. However, he persisted, hoping that the hallway would eventually end.

The monotony finally reached an unbearable level. Jarow's urge to run and find the end of the hallway intensified. He was determined to uncover the mysteries of this place on his own terms. "To hell with these damn doors!" he exclaimed. The profanity, uttered from his sweet, melodic child-like voice, sent a shock wave through him. He recoiled in surprise, momentarily stunned by his own outburst.

Despite the temporary release it provided, his outburst served as a stark reminder of how his youthful impulses had clouded his judgment. He came to a halt, his back against the wall, and gazed up at the ceiling. The realization that he hadn't encountered another room with a tall window this time struck him. His gaze shifted to the timer, which displayed a time of 2:24:07:69. It dawned on him that he had spent over two days searching these rooms, as the clock told time here in this place.

He knew there was no way a real structure could be this vast. Begrudgingly, but with a sense of liberation, Jarow concluded that this place was not a "real" place, as he would define it. This proved it in his mind. He decided he needed to stop thinking in terms of "reality." He was somehow mysteriously transferring bodies and seeing translucent windows open in his mental vision. "Real," he decided, had changed its definition a long time ago.

After entertaining thoughts of this place being a circle or a loop, or whether he had simply lost his mind, Jarow came to a conclusion. "Maybe going this way is the wrong way, meaning I need to go the other way to move forward. If this is a game, then I need to overcome the obstacles," he thought as he sat and contemplated.

Jarow's mind looked at his situation from a new perspective. A game implied he was working towards a goal, which is what he had been doing thus far anyway, just not truly understanding why other than he wanted to leave, but it also meant that there was a way to win.

He had no better ideas, nothing he had done since encountering the monster that killed him had made things change or do anything different. It was the only thing he could think of that would eventually lead him at least back to where things had slowly been changing, to where he might discover something new.

“If I could consider the monster that killed me new, that is,” he thought to himself darkly.

Jarow wasn’t looking forward to a two-day hike backwards, only to find himself back where he started. But he stood up and started walking back the way he had come from. But as soon as the fog moved away from the third door ahead of him, things changed. The door stood open.

At first, Jarow hesitated. He knew he hadn't opened any doors for miles. Was he being followed?

He cautiously moved ahead, surprised at how easily his slender young feet padded forward without making a sound. He knew he couldn't hide in this bare hallway, but the way his body slinked along the side against the wall, it almost felt as if he could melt into the shadows.

He approached the door and looked in. The room was empty. Completely empty. Not even a blanket. He had watched as he approached, and noticed that the doors beyond this room were all open on one side. A sneaky suspicion started creeping into his mind.

He moved forward, still cautious, though not as much as before. As the next open door came into focus, Jarow began to speculate about the mechanics of this place. He crept forward, noticing that the door on the opposite side of the hall was open as well. His suspicion grew stronger with each step.

He peered into the open doorway, revealing an empty room. He moved to the opposite side and found another empty room. This door was only slightly opened, as if whoever had opened the door lacked the strength to pull it entirely into the room, leaving it ajar enough for them to fit through. The next door on the same side of the hall was also open, but not fully. He moved to it and looked inside to verify his suspicion: the blanket was missing from this room as well.

He returned to the side of the hall where he had opened the doors earlier. His suspicions were now all but confirmed. This direction was the only path forward, the way he had gone before. The other route merely led back to a deceptive loop. He had just wasted over twenty hours going nowhere.

Taking a moment to come to terms with his blunder, he lowered his head and exhaled deeply. He stood in that pose for a few moments, allowing the weight of his mistake to settle upon him. Then, with a sudden shake of his body, he seemed to cast off the time lost, determined to move forward.

"This is where I encountered the bug," he thought to himself, mentally mapping out the remaining path. "The next door holds the key, and the one after that will mark the location of my first body. The Shlazak, the monster that killed me, will be two doors down from there." As he recalled the name of the creature, a new window popped up, demanding his attention.

You have successfully used Sneak. There are no enemies here to see you. Maybe you can sneak up on the bug?

Jarow laughed at the unnecessary information. He was curious to see that he had been able to sneak through without being detected. He wondered if that was a skill or something. The thought triggered yet another window to open. This window was larger and appeared to the side. It looked like a log of things that had happened. At the top, it started with:

Sneak skill successfully performed.

Intrigued by the new window, Jarow decided to delve into his log before continuing his journey. Mentally scrolling down, he came across entries detailing his searches in empty rooms and successful strength checks. However, as he scrolled further, the log abruptly ended, leaving a large expanse of emptiness.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Despite the apparent blankness, Jarow couldn't shake off the feeling that something was hidden within the blurry translucency of the window. As he scrolled, he could almost discern subtle patterns resembling letters and text which formed within the hazy substance.

Straining his eyes, Jarow tried to focus with no luck. He then attempted to tune his mind to the correct wavelength to decipher the hidden information. But that failed as well. Finally, as he continued scrolling down, a new line of text materialized:

You have died.

The ominous words appeared abruptly, breaking the monotony of the blurred emptiness. They stood out in stark contrast to the hazy nothingness that had consumed Jarow's attention.

Jarow paused, letting the words sink in. "You have died." He briefly wondered how many times that had actually happened. He knew of only one instance, but he had obviously died before because he had seen the corpse and recognized himself. Were there times before that life as well?

Scrolling back, he saw the name of the monster. He had been correct: the Shlazak. He continued scrolling through the log, which detailed his exploits in his first body while in this gray hallway, but then abruptly ended with:

New body acquired

It was the first entry, the beginning of the log. He had already briefly scanned through the entries while getting to the beginning. He felt a sense of relief at finding that the log had a starting point. He still couldn't be certain of how long he had been here or how many bodies he had gone through, but at least to his mind, the fact that the log entries had a beginning probably meant he was remembering both of his lives and that it was only the first body and memories that were missing.

As he began scrolling the log back to the current time, something important caught his eye as he moved the page upward:

You have attempted to place Dimensional Key Xinpo into your Inventory. Error

"Dimensional Key Xinpo?" Jarow thought to himself. "Does that mean the key has a name?" He recalled the error message informing him that he couldn't store living things in his inventory. While skepticism lingered about a key being a living entity, the fact that it had a name left him wondering.

"If my theory is correct, and the Shlazak is still two doors ahead, then I should be able to locate Xinpo there as well." Jarow thought to himself. He wanted to verify his theory and, hopefully, retrieve the key. Living or not, he had a feeling that the key was something important.

As he closed the log window, a new window emerged before his vision could fully clear. In bold white letters outlined by a yellow border, the words "Character Sheet" appeared on the screen in his vision.

Jarow began reading from top to bottom.

Name: Jarow Holloman

Age: 31 (current)

Race: Elf (current)

Gender: Male (current)

Attributes: (current)

Strength [- 2 -]

Dexterity [- 4 -]

Constitution [- 2 -]

Intelligence [- 3 -]

Wisdom [- 3 -]

Charisma [- 5 -]

Skills:

Sneak [- Beginner -]

He looked over the page. More information was there, but it was unavailable to him, covered by the wavy translucence of the background as like it was in the log. He squinted, trying to make the additional information out, but couldn't bring it into focus.

Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about it now, so he focused on the available information. He assumed the "(current)" part meant this body. He didn't know how to access the character sheet from his last body, so he couldn't compare the numbers.

He found he was correct about his being an elf, but he was surprised the description wasn't more specific. He was also still curious about the elven aging process. "How long is an elven infancy then? Ten years?" he asked aloud to hear his melodic voice once again.

He then realized that "(current)" was also listed next to gender. "Wait, so does that mean I can come back as a girl?" he thought. He imagined his body having large breasts and he moved his hands up and cupped them over his chest. "That could be interesting," he thought to himself as he fake squeezed his imaginary breasts.

Jarow chuckled to himself. He was still male, at least for now. His juvenile display reminded him that this body was not as mature as he felt at times. He was happy to feel so young at heart, but there was still a part of his mind that told him his emotions were separate from who he truly was.

He wasn't feeling the compulsions to explore and search out every clue anymore, but the childlike whimsy of this body could prove troublesome if not controlled, Jarow deliberated. But at least for now, squeezing false breasts and wanting to skip down the hall wasn't going to get him killed again.

He moved his eyes down the page to the attributes. They seemed familiar for some reason, but the values were much lower than he expected. "Why is charisma the highest stat, and why is it only a five?" he asked himself.

He looked at the numbers more closely, concentrating on them in the same way he had done with the timer. A smaller window popped up next to the number 2 attached to his strength attribute.

The window explained how the attribute numbers worked.

Attribute numbers are how the values of corresponding attributes are measured. Depending on race or species ranges can differ; offering bonuses or disadvantages. Would you like a definition of the attribute range for the current race?

He read through and mentally thought, "Yes." The text in the window changed, and the window itself shrank to fit the text.

Current race: Elf - Attribute range for Elf is 1 - 20.

He frowned. "That's it?" he thought to the prompt. "One through twenty, no explanation or reasons why I am only a two in strength?" Up until this point, the additional information the windows had provided had been at least somewhat useful, but this seemed like a cop-out.

Jarow wondered about the system or being behind the windows and prompts in his vision and wondered how it all functioned. The information he desired shouldn’t be difficult to ascertain. He wondered if the lack of information was there by design or whether he simply asked the wrong question. He remembered the large blank areas both in his log and within the character sheet. The missing, or hidden information which he couldn’t quite access. It made him think there was more to everything he had seen and was dealing with, but it remained just out of reach for him at the moment.

"If the range is one through twenty and I am a two, that means my strength is pretty pathetic. But if I am honest with myself, this body looks like a starving elven tween, so a strength of two might actually be accurate." Jarow said aloud as his mind worked through the meaning of the numbers and how accurate they might be.

He continued by analyzing his Charisma attribute, speaking aloud to hear his voice and to keep the thought within his mind separate from what he was saying. "A five, at least for a teenage boy, is probably pretty high. Most young men are out playing in the mud and refusing to bathe."

He stopped mid-thought. “How did I know that? Had I been a parent before?” He was working under the assumption that he knew all of the lives he had lived through, but the thought once again made him question how many times he had been alive.

"The fog only lets me see three doors away. Maybe I can only know about three lives in the past? How long have I actually been here, then? Is there actually a way out, or not? If I am an elf now, how long will I live if I am not killed by something?" he mentally questioned. The thought of living here for centuries in this body disturbed him, but not as much as living a lifetime as a flabby human.

He began to hyperventilate and placed his hand on the wall to steady himself. It took a minute to compose himself. "I'm jumping to conclusions, making assumptions, and I don't have all the facts. I need to calm down and use what knowledge I do have," he said to himself, mostly just to hear his voice. The woodsy tones always seemed to make him feel more docent and calm. "The log of what has happened to me only goes back through the last body, so more than likely the first body was my original and the next two were..." he trailed off, not really knowing what to call them.

The logic of the system log helped calm him down some. It also helped that he could hear his voice echoing off of the walls, although the way the fog seemed to absorb sound was still a bit of a mystery, but something to solve at a later time.

He looked at his character sheet again. Something told him there was more to the attributes and their values than he knew, but he couldn't quite access it. He tried again to mentally find any useful information. This time,he concentrated on the attributes and their definitions, rather than the numbers.

A new and different dialog box appeared. It was small and the pale yellow of a system window. He had been focusing on Charisma, since that was his highest attribute.

Charisma: This attribute is partially determined by one's physical attractiveness. However, beauty is only skin deep, and true charisma is an unequivocal value that combines attitude, confidence, and extroversion. A higher charisma value determines outcomes when dealing with other living beings, and can be influential in deception, trading, and many other circumstances.

"Finally, a decent explanation of the real value of an attribute," Jarow thought to himself after reading the text. He closed the window and concentrated in the same way on the Strength attribute.

Strength: This attribute is a direct representation of a person’s physical strength. The value is used to determine lifting, pushing, and carrying weight limits. It also determines force delivered during battle

The definition was clear and concise. Jarow was certain there was more explanation which could be added, or possibly better ways to explain, but he understood what it meant and felt satisfied with the description so moved on to the next attribute, Dexterity.

Dexterity: This attribute represents a person’s ability to move. It is measured not only by bodily speed, but flexibility and reflexive response time. The value is used to determine abilities of balance, fine motor control, and rapid successive movements

Jarow was less satisfied with this explanation for Dexterity than the previous two, but he understood the general idea. "So if I'm trying to hit someone hard but don't care where I hit them, that would be determined by Strength. If I'm trying to hit someone in just the right spot, that would be Dexterity," he said to himself, satisfied with his own example. He knew there was more to this explanation than just in terms of fighting, but this was the first example that came to mind. He briefly wondered why fighting was the first thing that came to mind when considering these attributes, although he had never fought anything in his memory. Without a way to better understand how his brain worked, he attributed it to youthful excitability and moved on to the other attributes.

Wisdom: The Wisdom attribute is derived from the amount of time lived, the variety of experiences gained, the recall of gathered experiences, and the ability to relate those experiences to current situations. The value of the attribute contributes mainly to mental strength, which influences strategy, decision-making, spell strength, and character judgment.

When Jarow saw the word "spell" in the description, his heart began pounding with excitement. So there's magic here? he thought to himself. He had an instant desire to learn magic. It was something deep inside, a yearning he hadn't realized he had.

Visions of energy shooting from his hands and creating beautiful and powerful attack spells and abilities filled his mind. He saw himself in long intricately patterned robes with a large staff of gnarled wood with a radiant crystal at the end. His magical energies were visible as an aura of brilliant translucence around him, protecting him while empowering him at the same time. He used the aura to defend himself and attack the monsters he faced off against.

"Whoa," he thought to himself after the vivid imaginary illusion faded from his mind. "That isn't me. That person is a human and has a huge white beard. I'm a young elf. How do I get from here to there?" He wasn't sure where the images came from, but they weren't telling the story of this body.

He began to wonder when his thinking had changed so drastically. He now thought of his life as a set of different bodies. His circumstances thus far had led him to believe that might be the case, but how could someone accept such a strange reality? Life was thought of as a singular existence, a set period of time where you lived and experienced things until you died.

Obviously his point of view had shifted to something new and strange already. He had no real evidence that he would simply move to another body when he died, yet a disregard for mortality was growing inside him.

How could someone value life if it became worth so little? Could he ever truly be great if he assumed he could die and return as someone else without consequences? “Was there an end? A body count?” he mentally questioned himself.

Jarow looked at his character sheet again, willing it to show him more about his past lives or to at least see what was going on with his body in more depth, but the window remained the same. He felt a wave of defeat and apathy wash over him.

He hadn't covered the other attributes, but they were mostly easy to understand. Constitution determined health and resistance, while Intelligence determined how much knowledge he had. With a sigh and a feeling of wanting to know more, he closed the window with a mental click. It couldn't help him anymore.

He felt like walking away, sitting down, and giving up. He felt like... "a pouting teenager," he thought to himself. The self-evaluation caught him by surprise. He had all but accepted that some of the emotions or desires of the previous owners of the bodies he was now occupying remained. This simply confirmed his earlier suspicions.

Jarow's mind raced with questions. Where did these bodies come from? Had this boy died? Had he somehow jumped into this body upon its death, or was it simply a random selection? Had whatever power behind this universe just grabbed a body and stuck him in it? He finally succumbed to the body's desire and dropped to the floor, his thoughts playing out further.

He had been treating this like a game. The windows, the monster, the reincarnation. Yes, reincarnation. That is what was going on. When he died, his soul or spirit or whatever reincarnated.

"But that doesn't explain where the bodies come from or how many there are," he thought. "Generally, reincarnation should be a rebirth. Since the bodies are already grown, at least somewhat, it makes sense to me that the person died, but then I somehow get their body?"

He wanted to continue voicing his thoughts aloud, but the depth and rapidity of his thoughts kept them held within his brain.

Unlike the information which he had been placed within his head before, he didn’t know if the explanation he had just come up with was correct or not. He wished he could once again get an information download to his mind, explaining what was going on with him and this place, but of course that was not the way this game worked. For all he knew, this could be his last body, and that’s why it was so young.

A small scuttling sound caught Jarow's attention as he sat and pondered his existence, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked down the hall and saw a small beetle scuttling from the next room—the room which should hold his first corpse, if he wasn't mistaken.

He had all but forgotten what he was doing here. His original body should be in the next room, and the monster that killed his second body should be two rooms down. He wanted to find the silver key again, but he had just zoned out, looking through his system windows. He hadn't even thought about the monster. He had been speaking aloud and not paying attention to his surroundings, making himself an easy target. He was lucky to still be alive.

Jarow watched as the beetle scuttled across the hall and disappeared into the doorway on the other side. He thought to himself that the bug didn't seem afraid, so maybe that was a good sign. But he also knew he was grasping at straws and looking for excuses for his lack of diligence.

He noticed a small gap between the hinge side of the door and the floor. He was amazed at his new vision. Details he would never have noticed before were crystal clear. His hearing was also astounding. He could even hear the faint clicks of the beetle's feet on the floor.

Compared to this body, his last body had been a complete disaster.

Since he hadn't been found by the monster yet, Jarow came to the conclusion that he was at least relatively safe, but he still intended to take more precautions. He stood up, once again marveling at how easily and silently this younger body moved.

He made his way into the next room. As he rounded the open door, he saw, as he had predicted, a corpse lying on the floor. He slid into the room and crouched near the corpse. There was still a sense of comfort and familiarity here that he couldn't explain. He looked at his first body with his much sharper elven eyes.

Every detail was clear to him. He still couldn't tell what had happened to this body, but he could now see the way the bones had fractured and broke. He saw all the cuts and tears in the skin. He saw every wound, every bruise and bump, the discolorations of the skin. The hands of the body were what interested him most though. Unlike anything else on the body, they were much more defined than the rest. The muscles that ran down the forearms and into the hands were clearly larger and more defined.

He wondered why the hands would be so much healthier than the rest of the body. "I must have had some way of exercising my hands, something I enjoyed doing that kept them occupied," he thought.

His adolescent mind went to the most obvious place of course. His eyes moved down the body to the bottom half of the corpse which still remained ass up. He internally debated with himself. "I've seen it before, after all. The body isn't going to care. Yeah, I know it's childish and completely unnecessary and It won't really tell me anything. I mean, it's not getting any circulation anyway."

As if for an instant the compulsion for curiosity returned, Jarow’s childish mind wouldn’t relent and finally won out. He moved forward and turned the corpse over, bringing the front of it to point upright so that he could check out the genitals. It was nothing special, just a deflated piece of meat. A more mature voice in the back of his mind scolded him: "I told you so." He wasn't sure how, but the voice somehow made a disappointed grunt.

It was pointless to linger here, Jarow now knew where he was and where he could find the Shlazak that had killed him. He wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do yet, but decided the first thing he should do was to properly ascertain the situation. He knew he didn’t want to stay in this foggy hallway forever and that moving the other direction did him absolutely no good, so he was going to have to face this monster sooner or later. He needed to prepare as much as he could.

His bare elven feet glided soundlessly across the floor, their silence surpassing even his heightened senses, Jarow moved to the next doorway, his gaze lingering on the next door down, the door where the Shlazak had been.

Nothing had changed, there was nothing out of the ordinary for him to see or hear. One peculiarity caught his attention though: his old human body, along with any traces of blood, was nowhere to be seen. He also didn't hear anything moving or growling or gnawing of bones. It looked like just an open door.

He considered his next move, he was limited to either fighting his way past the Shlazak or finding a way around it undetected. The latter option seemed far-fetched. Without some obstacles or a feat of extraordinary luck, sneaking through an empty hallway wasn't a viable strategy.

Jarow's mind, however, was far from dormant. A plan began to take shape as he weighed his options.

He moved silently to the opposite side of the hall, pressing his back against the wall and inching his way towards the next door, his eyes never straying from the Shlazak's open doorway. The angle at which he could see had changed, but there were still no signs of movement beyond the threshold.

Remembering his previous inspection of the doors on the opposite side through the central flaps, he was confident that this room would be empty. Without another glance, he shifted his weight and pushed against the door with his back, thankfully swinging it open without a sound.

Jarow backed inside quickly, maintaining his focus on the adjacent doorway. He saw nothing, but caught a sound as he moved further into the vacant room: the distinct snapping of teeth. He pulled himself fully into the room and pushed the door closed, being careful to keep the closing of the door as silent as possible.

The sound of the door moving back to a closed position was not loud, but noticeable. With a small thud, the door closed and Jarow turned to put his back against the wood. He shut his eyes and strained to listen. His heart beat fast, making it difficult to hear anything else behind the rushing blood in his ears.

Gradually, Jarow’s quickened heartbeat subsided, and during that tense time, he could detect no movement near the door. He couldn't be absolutely certain that nothing was outside the room, but since he had been able to hear the footsteps of the bug earlier, he was relatively sure that unless the monster could move as silently as he did, then nothing had moved in the hallway.

To verify this, he turned around and carefully tried to push the tray flap open in order to see outside of the room. His delicate fingers and low strength made the task more difficult than he thought it should be, but eventually he got the flap open, but the metal banged down against the outside of the wooden door with a deafening clang. The noise shattered the silence, undoing all the effort he had put into remaining silent.

There was nothing in the hall for Jarow to see. He heard no movement, but then he heard the snapping of teeth again, just like he had heard before. He knew something was there, just beyond the next door. He could feel its presence.

"I really hope this thing is chained up or something," he thought to himself. "Luckily, though, I don't think it can leave the room. That's why I've been safe so far. It can't get me here. It probably dragged my last body in there and ate it. That's why I can't see anything on the floor. The blood has probably dried up by now."

He almost spoke his thoughts out loud, wanting to hear his splendid elven voice again, but he contained himself. He needed to listen carefully to what was happening outside in the hall.

Jarow grabbed the ragged blanket from the ground, preparing to move from the cell. "You are going to get me around that thing," he whispered to the blanket. It was going to be a part of his plan to get around the Shlazak.

First though, he used the blanket to grip the ring of the door, and gently pulled it, cracking the door open almost silently.

Once again, Jarow strained his elven ears to catch the sound of clicking teeth coming from the next doorway. Even the small sound of the door opening seemed to trigger this creature's reaction. Its sense of hearing must be as acute as his own, he reckoned.

With a deep breath, he cautiously moved forward. The monster's movements had abruptly ceased, and the usual silence filled the hall. Jarow crept to the next door across the hallway and cautiously pressed his back to the wood.

His eyes moved slowly, his gaze drifting to the edge of his vision as he craned his neck to look around the end of the door. In his periphery, he saw something there, motionless. He turned his head more, trying to get a better look. As his eyes focused, he gasped in surprise.

A large, dark purple vine stretched up and out from the center of the room. It was at least six feet long and two feet wide, covered in large, spiked leaves. The leaves were a deep maroon color with green veins that ran through them like elongated spider webs.

At the end of the stalk was a bud. It was also purple, but much lighter, not the dark eggplant of the stem. Petals wrapped around it, making it look like a flower ready to bloom. The flesh of the plant was dark at the base, matching the stem, but brightened and radiated around the bud, making the dangerous end look almost cheery and inviting. The unbloomed flower was huge, looking as though it would be unable to withdraw itself into the doorway.

Right in front of the massive plant, Jarow saw the silver key.

Jarow's heart pounded in his chest as he shifted his body to better see behind the large plant. His back moved a bit too much, though, causing the door to creak slightly. He froze, his breath catching in his throat.

The massive flower stirred. Its petals rapidly opened, revealing a gaping maw lined with rows of sharp yellow teeth. A long, bright red tongue whipped out, waving in the air like a serpent. The tongue split into a branch of smaller feelers, each one wiggling and tasting the air.

The flower's maw snapped shut, its teeth forming a neat break where the tongue continued to gyrate in front of the bulb. It opened and closed again, and again, its huge head swaying back and forth. The tongue flicked out, tasting the air in an attempt to sense what had caused the noise.

Jarow held his breath, his heart pounding in his chest. He was terrified, but he knew he had to stay calm. If he moved, he could very easily die once again. He remembered the window which had appeared before telling him of the monster's paralyzing poison. Even if he could dash away quickly, if he were caught by that poison, he could still find his way to the back of the monster's gullet.

After a few moments, the tongue withdrew and the flower's head settled back down to the ground. The petals closed, and the flower was once again still.

Jarow's breath gradually returned. His mind began to function again and he silently crept back to the safe side of the door.

"I now know why it didn't come after me," he thought. "Most plants don't get up and walk. It can hear and taste, though, or maybe smell, with its tongue, but it can't see. That's useful information."

He assumed that his last body must be mulch by now, since there was no sign of it. He hadn't seen the creature move forward any further, but couldn't tell if it was able to extend itself any further.

The key was only inches in front of the monstrous plant's mouth, but Jarow really didn't want to stick his hand anywhere near the creature. He briefly wondered why there was no blood, even around the key. The floor was gray, unstained. The key itself should have been bathed in his previous body's blood, yet it remained clean and maybe even shinier than before.

His original idea had been to use the blanket to somehow blind whatever monster this was, and to hopefully run past it and escape further down the hall. He didn't think the blanket would do any good now; the monster didn't seem to have eyes. “It can obviously hear, though,” Jarow thought.

A new window appeared, startling him.

New quest! You have encountered a Shlazak. Defeat the Shlazak before continuing. If you can. I’ll even throw in a reward. Do you accept? [ Yes-No ]

Jarow jumped as the window appeared and bumped the door. It moved only a millimeter or two, but it was enough to make the hinges creak. The Shlazak awoke again, chomping at the air and extending its red tongue.

Jarow froze once again. He moved the window from his view and quietly peeked around the end of the door again, watching the monstrous plant go through the same motions. After several moments, it finally settled back down to the floor. Jarow's heart beat rapidly, but he watched, hoping to learn anything new about this monster. It moved from side to side, but didn't move forward.

He concluded that either the Shlazak could go no further forward, or it saved its full length as a surprise attack for its prey. Either way, he would have to be extra careful around this thing, especially since it had already killed him once.

He moved the quest window back into his view and pondered how he would defeat the Shlazak. He had no weapons or anything other than a blanket, but he was determined to try. He found it strange that the text mentioned a reward without specifying what it would be and wondered both who or what was writing these prompts for him and also what or how a reward would be given. He still didn't know the mechanics of this place, but the thought of something new, especially a boon, excited him.

Killing the Shlazak would definitely make him feel safer, but he wondered if simply going around it would be safer. Although would he really even be leaving it behind? He knew full well how strange the mechanics of this place were. This place could create another loop and force him to contend with it again and again for all he knew.

He stared at the yellow window for a few moments longer before making up his mind. He mentally chose yes.

He knew it was a dangerous decision, but he also knew that he couldn't just leave the Shlazak there. He had to do something, he had to eliminate it from his path forward. If he didn't he wouldn't feel safe.