Mikal awoke to the scent of burnt flesh. In his vision, an interface alert that had appeared while he was unconscious. He groaned in pain and clutched his shoulder. The venoms' numbing effect had worn off, and the pain from the three wounds was radiating throughout his body. He looked at himself. He was covered in blood, slumped against a tree, with three spikes sticking out from his body.
He let out a chuckle, relieved to be alive, which immediately turned into a groan of pain. Pain hit him in waves every time he moved; just breathing sent barrages of pain signals. His vision narrowed for a second before sensory inputs came rushing back, and his vision narrowed again. Like a pendulum, he flickered between half-consciousness and agony.
Trying to distract himself from the pain and break the cycle, he looked at his interface.
Congratulations! You have defeated Venomspike Treehog (Juvenile) Level 3. Companion has successfully absorbed essence, aspects, and records.
He dismissed the box and got a glimpse of the charred remains of the venomspike before another box popped into his vision. He had to find a way to somehow change where these boxes appeared, what if one appeared in the middle of his vision while he was fighting or running?
Attention
You have found your first external source of Aetheral Matrix, commonly referred to as Experience Points. Continue finding such sources to get a chance at inheriting or unlocking new spells and abilities.
! This alert will not be shown again.
Aetheral Matrix? Experience points? Like from video games? And what were essence, aspects and records?
The letters for "aetheral matrix" was slightly thicker than the rest, so in a slightly desperate attempt, he focused on the word and willed more information to appear. To his surprise, a new prompt appeared overlaying the first.
Aetheral Matrix A collective term referring to essence, aspects, and records. The components that make up an object or creature's non-physical presence.
He let out a small internal cheer, excited to finally get some real tangible information. "Okay, that made some sense, the prompt about defeating the venomspike had said that my Companion absorbed those three things from it." Mikal thought to himself. He did not understand what they meant; besides the definitions of the words themselves. He had no idea what a non-physical presence meant. It again annoyed him how little he knew, but he calmed himself with the knowledge that he was constantly learning more, comparing his cluelessness now to his cluelessness yesterday.
"I have definitely figured some stuff out, but everything I learn just raises more questions..." he thought in exasperation. He closed the prompt about aetheral matrix and focused on the next word with bold letters. Inherit.
Inherit The term refers to the process of gaining new spells, abilities, or traits based on the types of essence, aspects, and records absorbed. All aetherial matrices absorbed are different, and absorbing enough with similar compositions can let you inherit certain traits, abilities, or knowledge from the source.
"Does that mean I grow stronger from killing things?" he thought in disgust. Did that mean he had to go out hunting other creatures to grow stronger? That didn't really sit right with him; of course, he would defend himself, and he could even see himself hunting for food. But killing just to get better at killing?
No, that was the wrong way to look at things; he would get better at surviving. He could even gain spells that allowed him to help others, like healing or creating things. He resolved only to kill other beings if they attacked him but immediately thought better of it. Did he really have the luxury just to dismiss a way to improve his chance of survival?
Could he make some sort of moral stand when he was essentially lost in another dimension? Why did he even resent killing things so much? What was it about that that triggered such a strong aversion in him? Other beings killed for many reasons; survival, food, access to certain resources, and even abstract things such as pride or boredom could be reasons to kill for some. Why did it feel so wrong to him then?
Sensing that he was getting nowhere in his internal monologing, he refocused on his interface. He closed the box on inheriting and focused on "unlock."
Unlock The term unlock in this context refers to meeting certain thresholds or criteria through the absorption of relevant aetherial matrices. Once the requirements are reached, the necessary knowledge will be unlocked for you and your Companion. Essence and records obtained through absorption and personal development are accumulative and count towards the same requirements.
Mikal immediately grabbed onto the mention of personal development. He could gain essence and records through personal development. That meant he did not have to kill anything to gain new spells and abilities. But what did it mean? How did he gain stuff through personal development, and what even counted as development?
Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
He thought back to when he had unlocked the meditation ability; he had just been sitting still, trying to comprehend his situation, and the ability had popped up. But, if he remembered correctly, the prompt about meditation had said he had "demonstrated" not unlocked the ability. He wished he could see his earlier prompts so he could confirm. Could he?
He tried to will the box forth, focusing on the specific box he had seen. A list of entries appeared under the heading "Log." The list moved on its own accord, scrolling backward, and the prompt for meditation reappeared. A little stunned that it had worked, he wondered what else he could do. He fickled around a bit and managed to get the prompt to appear to the right in his vision, smaller and taking up much less of his sight. He opened, closed, and reopened the log many times, checking all his earlier prompts.
Nothing new stood out to him, and he found the earliest notices he had received about his memory were gone. He also confirmed that the prompt about meditation had said demonstrated, not unlocked confirming his suspicions. The word "demonstrated" had not been in bold writing, and he was unsuccessful in gaining any more information. However, he did manage to bring up the general information for the venomspike treehog.
Fauna Name Venomspike Treehog Description An elusive and highly dangerous variant, the Venomspike Treehog can grow up to 70cm in height. This variant not only can launch its spikes like the Darkspike but their spikes also excrete a potent neurotoxin. Predators or threats hit by these spikes face paralysis or, in extreme cases, death, making the Venomspike Treehog a creature to avoid. They are known to be territorial and will aggressively defend their area against intruders.
After playing with his interface, trying to figure out stuff for quite a while, Mikal suddenly remembered the situation he was in. He dismissed the interface and refocused on the world around him. As soon as he did so, the pain hit him like an avalanche. His shoulder and both thighs burned, sending radiating jolts of pain through his entire body.
"What the fuck! How could I forget about fucking spikes sticking out of me." he cursed through gritted teeth.
Tightening his jaw, he grabbed the spike in his shoulder and pulled. The spike came free in a squirt of blood. It hadn't penetrated that deep. But the pain was still excruciating. The new rush of blood running down his torso felt warm against his skin; he could feel his quick heartbeats in the wound.
Pausing to gather his wits, he berated himself in between gasps. "Did I... activate... meditation...? How could I.... not.... have felt... this fucking pain?"
As he said the word pain, he grabbed the spike in his thigh that hadn't penetrated through and ripped that one out as well. His vision darkened around the edges, his consciousness slipping. He tightened his fist and forced himself to stay awake. It was a battle just to hold on to reality, but he knew the blood loss could be deadly.
Not knowing what to do about the final spike that had gone straight through his thigh and poked out of both sides. He lifted his hoodie up, revealing the once-white t-shirt underneath; using his left arm, he brought the edge of the t-shirt to his mouth and tore a gouge up the middle. He took one of the edges and started tearing around the t-shirt's length.
It took some maneuvering, but he finally managed to get a good and long strip of t-shirt which he used to bind the thigh he had just removed the spike from.
Having calmed a little and not wanting to go through the arduous process two more times, he carefully pulled his hoodie over his head. This also proved to be quite a challenge; every time he moved his right shoulder, stings of pain radiated through him. With his hoodie removed, he sat back against the cool, rough trunk of the tree, trying to catch his breath. The world around him swayed, a testament to his blood loss and pain.
He eyed the last spike warily, the one that had traversed his thigh completely. The thought of pulling it through either side made his stomach churn. He knew he had to act quickly, though; leaving it in could cause more damage, not to mention the risk of infection. Gritting his teeth, he decided to push it back out the way it had came, not wanting to drive the thicker bottom end through his entire thigh. Before that, though, he prepared a new length of t-shirt to bind the wound with.
With a deep breath, he grasped the end of the spike, his hand shaking slightly. The sharp intake of breath as he pushed the spike through was loud in the quiet of the forest. His vision blurred with tears from the pain, but he pushed through it, literally and figuratively. When the spike was finally out, he let it drop to the ground, quickly finding his make-shift gauze and binding the wound.
The wound was bleeding freely now, and he needed to staunch it quickly. Even after binding it with the first strip, he ripped another strip and bound the wound a second time the other way around. The process was clumsy, his fingers numb and uncooperative, determination and desperation made his fingers move with purpose. Once his wounds were as secure as he could make them, he leaned back, closing his eyes for a moment, letting out a shaky breath.
The adrenaline that had been keeping the worst of the pain at bay was wearing off, and every throb of his heart sent waves of pain through his body. He knew he should move and find somewhere safer, but the thought of standing made his head spin. And nothing new had attacked him so far, even in his foolish meditation earlier.
"I just need... a moment," he whispered to himself, the words barely a breath.
He did not want to repeat his mistake of going into meditation while he was so exposed, but the constant waves of agony made it difficult to resist. He faltered, attempting to recreate his earlier leap into meditation by opening his logs. But this time, the ability did not activate, the pain too constant and present for him to focus on anything else.