You’re ruining my vacation here.
Rye was curled into a ball on the floor, filthy and back in her ragged bits of armor once again. Opening her eyes entailed accepting reality and reality was decidedly unfun.
Next time, listen to me when I say dodge. Or is letting yourself get stabbed also a part of your so-called civilized behavior?
Time until lost items and souls dissipate: 15 min
The ethereal smoke didn’t care about her feelings, wafting in front of her face even through her eyelids. Neither did her barbarian companion.
Get up.
But she didn’t want to.
You can sulk later, Rye.
But she was feeling horrible right now. And later would come… later.
You lost a lot of souls, just when we found out what they are used for. And bone shards. I owe you a boon but you can’t cash in on it when you let us both go broke.
That was fair. True. A good appeal to logic. Rye was not feeling logical, not right now. Dying hurt too much.
“Undead?” a silky voice asked. “Does thou require aid?”
Rye opened her eyes a crack. The attendant stood over her, hands clasped and with a tinge of worry on her face. She couldn’t just keep lying here. Not when someone was watching.
Time until lost items and souls dissipate: 13 min
Finally. Now go get that bread.
“I’ll get up under one condition.” Her throat felt dry again. “I need a hug.”
“Certainly.” A pair of lightly jingling arms enveloped Rye. The attendant’s embrace was warm and caring, washing away the mental fog and worries. She leaned into the embrace. Perhaps, she enjoyed it a little too long. The attendant smelled wonderful.
Time until lost items and souls dissipate: 8 min
They separated with a sniffle, leaving a Rye-shaped imprint of blood on the attendant’s clothing.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Mail is surprisingly simple to clean.” That was a lie and they both knew it.
“I’ll make up for it, somehow.”
She couldn’t meet the woman’s eyes and settled on watching the slight upturn of her everlasting smile.
“Does thou posses the Breath of Menses?”
“Menses?” Rye asked.
“Perhaps you know it under another name? The gray order, the blessing of Uovis, Hanzarp’s discerning vapor?”
Close enough. Rye nodded. “Don’t remember who I learned it from, but I have it.”
“Very well. If thou art willing to listen, I ask thee to peer within the depths inside me.”
Is that a euphemism?
“…sorry, is that a euphemism?” Rye asked at the same time.
They looked at each other for an awkward moment. The attendant lifted her up, but only insofar until Rye settled into a kneel by herself.
“Offer thy hand and let me search wherein thy path shall flow.”
She did and the world turned dim as if she had just rolled a bone dice for a boon until the focus was only on the attendant and herself. A gentle warm glow radiated from where they held hands.
“Now breathe, and see what you are, what you were, what you may yet become.”
Rye did and the fog arrayed itself into a completely unfamiliar set of lines.
Name: Rye
Age: 23
Soul count: x0 (11176)
Bone shards: [Common] x0 (9), [Uncommon] x0 (6)
Undead cursemark: Quelled.
Greatly diminishes soul. Moderately diminishes body. Slightly diminishes sense and mind.
Vessels:
[Body]
Your Body is weak, like a sickly human.
[Sense]
Your Sense is slightly worse than the average human's.
[Mind]
Your Mind is above the average human's.
[Spirit]
Your Spirit is pitifully weak, like that of an unlearned child.
Boons:
1 – [Empty]
Rye stared at the panels in wonder. They had so much color. So advanced. So wow.
No.
The attendant’s voice came like a distant ring of a bell. “This is the depth of thy soul, as represented by a string of breath. Though it differs for us all, thou can now discern thy fate with ease.”
No.
“Within thy bosom, two receptacles for the soul: Thy boons wherein shards crystallize and take on the color of thy being, and thy vessel for nurturing wandering great souls to lift thee to greater heights.”
NO! FUCK! SHIT! ASS! HUMUS! GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!
“Umm.” Rye umm-ed with increasing nervousness as Elia exploded into an avalanche of expletives in the background. “This doesn’t look like my breath at all. I only know about the boon part.”
NO ONE TOLD ME I COULD LEVEL UP! I LOST SO MANY SOULS! HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS! MILLIONS!
Rye tried to focus on the barely moving lips of the attendant, learning a heap of new words from both ends.
“It has been some time, then, since thou has learned thy breath. As an undead, thou yearns for souls and souls yearn for thee. Thou art a vessel for four facets, each in turn strengthening themselves and another. Thy [Body] builds thy [Sense], thy [Sense] thy [Mind], thy[Mind] thy [Spirit], thy [Spirit] thy[Body].”
She offered a hand and a shining object floated out of her pocket. Quibbles looked like he had been in the middle of a nap and an object like liquid flame – or perhaps flaming liquid – glowed where his stomach was.
QUIBBLES, STOP EATING MY SHIT!
… did he eat something important? The attendant was somewhat hampered in her speech as she rotated the rotund individual with her mind. To his credit, Quibbles didn’t make a single peep. He was a dignified toad, rotating on his own terms.
SQUISH HIIIM!
“Mister toad, sir?” Rye asked, though she didn’t feel her mouth move. “Could you perhaps give up what you have swallowed? I promise to feed you any tasty looking insects we find on our way.”
The rotating toad hung listlessly in the air for a minute. Then, he opened his mouth and the light flowed out of it. It was an ethereal color, a light shade of red with dancing white swirls on the inside. It felt mesmerizing, so much that she barely noticed her finger touching it. It was warm.
“… this is a great soul,” the attendant said with a schooled face. “Souls are the energy of all life, yet a strong soul carries great power and will distinct enough to share with thee.”
I WILL BOOP THIS!
As Elia possessed an arm and used her [psychometry] on the soul, another window of haze layered itself over the others.
Soul of the Forlorn Giant
Soul of the Forlorn Giant. It is said that the giants of Morgenthal are a violent and uncaring folk, yet one found friendship with a misbegotten false serpent. Can be crushed in hand for a large amount of souls.
“Th-this is a soul?” Rye asked, finding its weight more than she could handle even though it floated on its own. What if she dropped it, would it break – rather, would it die?
“It is, and thou was blessed with a most wondrous boon. However, not all things are revealed so easily." She smoothly blew the smoke away, feeling like a dew-laden breeze on Rye's cheeks. "With a flourish, and a blessing, I may yet find within it hidden strength for thee to ingurgitate.”
The smoke rearranged itself once more.
[Body] Soul of the Forlorn Giant [Uncommon]
0/4000 Moderate Increase to constitution
0/??? Moderate increase to strength
Numbers. Words even. Rye still had no clue what this all meant, but when the attendant leaned down close enough that she could feel her breath she was half inclined to think this was all a dream.
“Does thou wish to accept this soul, for all its flaws and worths, and nurture it within thine bosom?”
YES! YES! LEVEL UP! C’MON!
Rye blinked herself out of the enchanting moment, doubts forming at the edge of her awareness. Before she could voice them, her hand moved at blinding speed and grabbed the soul. She watched in half horror, half incomprehension as it dissolved along her arm and swam up through her nose before settling into her chest.
Vessels:
[Body] Soul of the Forlorn Giant [Uncommon]
Your Body is weak, like a sickly human adult.
0/4000 Moderate Increase to constitution.
0/??? Moderate increase to strength.
[Sense]
Your Sense is slightly worse than the average human.
[Mind]
Your Mind is above the average human.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
[Spirit]
Your Soul is weak, like that of an unlearned child.
“Feed these souls a score of sovereignless ones and thou shall grow to withstand the hardship of thy holy pilgrimage. For thou art undead and a vessel to hold within thyself those forlorn souls which cannot find their way to Loften.”
MORE SOULS? We need more souls. RYE, ditch this frivolous hug-dispenser and get our SOULS!
“I – shhh! Quiet you! – I am? T-they can’t? But that’s horrible! If they can’t return to our gods, then that means no cycle of life and death and rebirth.” Her mouth was going a million kilometers an hour, even as she stood staring at the ground. It was the only part of her world that wasn’t spinning. “Would that explain all the undead? It would, wouldn’t it. But, but, but–”
The attendant put a single finger on Rye’s lips, causing unsung panic to rise as a rosy tint on her face. “In truth, the cycle of souls has already ground to a halt. The age of gods wanes, a cup leaking through cracks drop by sorrowful drop. No longer do souls return to our gods and the grail of ages upon death. No longer have they the strength to protect all humankind from the Dark Forest, encroaching upon our lands by the day.”
Time until lost items and souls dissipate: 3 min
Alright, screw this. I’m getting those souls myself.
As it turns out, having two minds tearing one body in different directions didn’t end well for either side. Elia possessed a leg and found a surprise challenge in just trying to stand. She fell forward with a surprised squeak, into the waiting arms of the attendant.
Get up! C’mon! You can snuggle or do whatever you want with the pretty woman later!
“Will you – stop – she’s saying some importan– hey, that tickles. ACK!” Rye whispered as she extricated herself from her compromising position, Elia yanking on a different limb every second to get her to move. To outsiders, it must have looked like a particularly poor puppeteer was pulling her off stage after a performance gone awry. “Thank you for your help, I’ll come back I sweaaar…”
“Thou art undead, and thou must seek Loften. All paths must end in Loften.” The attendant called after her. “Pray, be careful on thy journey.”
They reached the stairs mostly because Rye preferred walking in tune with her invasive companion to repeating the romance of head-meets-ground again. The moment she had a wall to lean on and her leg set an involuntary foot on the first step, she pulled back, leaving it to scrabble and stomp in annoyance.
C’mon, you need to go. Go! Gogogo!
“No! Elia, you can’t just pull me – us – around like some doll. It feels horrible! And… I’m not ready yet.”
Tough luck.
How could any one person be so lacking in empathy? She barely died ten minutes ago and this time, death actually hurt. Just the thought of it twisted her stomach into knots.
“Aren’t you supposed to be on vacation?”
Aren’t you supposed to be happy that you can fix your woefully inadequate body? Or that you have it back at all?
S-she was not woeful, or inadequate. “I would if you’d stop pulling my legs and arms apart!”
Says the girl who tried to stab me. Multiple times. After I saved our collective lives.
“I apologized! Something you still haven’t done- EEE!” Elia tickled her – unfair, she couldn’t even tickle her back – and within minutes Rye relented. Under protests and complete silence from Elia’s side, she reached the top of the stairs with trembling legs and a heart pumping at a hundred kilometers an hour.
The balcony where she died showed no sign of violence, as if the world had invalidated her suffering with a snip of its fingers.
There. See that glowing orb thing? Go grab it before the spearman comes back and plugs you full of holes again.
“Y-you’re making me cry.” Her vision was already turning blurry; it didn’t help that her armor still smelled of fresh blood.
At that her possessed leg calmed down and she was left to eye the short stairway leading down the terrace, into the garden. Flashes of the wide open cliffside and the struggling plants filled her mind. Then it ended with two sharp, painful thrusts.
Time until lost items and souls dissipate: 1 min
She wiped her eyes and chocked down a sniffle, painfully aware of how pathetic she was. Elia fought a giant and countless other undead in the same weak body as she had now to get her simple wish of a bed and food, and she couldn’t take a single step forward if it meant saving eleven thousand souls, eleven thousand lives.
The pressure lessened, her legs stopped shivering. If it was for someone else, then the choice was easier. “The souls are right there. N-nothing can go wrong, right?”
If only you knew how much bad luck you just summoned down upon us.
She took a cautious step forward, keeping her shoulder against the wall. A raspy moan caused her to freeze up, lips pressed together and eyes bulging until she looked as stiff as Quibbles had moments ago. The murderer, the fiend was right around the corner.
“Right… there.” She whispered, reaching a hand from behind the old statue she was pressed against.
The message popped up and she frantically dismissed her smoke before someone took note. Another tense moment passed. She let out a breath as the undead moaned again, this time further away.
Congrats. You solved a problem caused by your own ineptitude. All you had to do was take thirty steps and reach out your hand. I’m fucking impressed.
Rye pushed down the gall that was gathering in the back of her throat. Elia was insulting, infuriating, crude and bereft of all niceties. Even her congratulations were soured by a heavy layer of snark. Half of that was true, but the other half was just the anger at herself looking for someone else to blame. She sunk against the wall, trying to separate two strands of sticky dark-blonde hair.
“Elia? Can we talk?”
No.
She took another much-needed breath. “We can’t keep on going like this.”
You’re tearing us apart, Rye, not me.
“I… I am, right? But you’re not helping either. You could stand to be less… sassy.”
An ethereal snort rang in the air, followed by the sound of… slurping? Was she drinking something in her head? How? Where did she keep on finding these stage props?
I am not sassy. Just tired that I have to do everything by myself and that you’ve interrupted my vacation with babysitting.
“Right. You’re the one doing babysitting.” Another deep breath, in and out. Be the bigger person. “This is not working, you can see that much, I hope. We can’t make it through this if all we treat each other as enemies or begrudging travel companions. We need to be better, do better. We need to be friends.”
Gee, a friend? I don’t know, that sure is a lot of commitment. Not like we’re stuck in the same body. Not like I’ve tried to HELP you every step of the way.
“You say that, but your voice says you want to stab me.” For all she knew, Elia would have were the circumstances different. Perhaps they both had soured their first impression. If this was going to be a state that was extended in any frame of time, it would help to have similar interests, interesting conversations and a willingness to listen and care. “I think above all friendship needs to come from both sides. So…”
So…?
“This is me making the first step. I know we got off to a rocky start, but… Elia, I would like to be your friend.”
It was hard to tell whether the silence afterwards was born of shock, awkwardness or deep and fulfilling introspection. Rye really hoped the latter. Even if they did become friends, sharing a body was not going to be easy once they returned to normal, day to day life. No, especially because they shared a body, there would be conflict. Pain too. But in a strange land, with a strange prophecy proclaiming undead, the outcasts of society, as carriers of the last embers of civilization and destined to meet their fate in the city of the gods, a friend tagging along would be nice.
She was certain that alone, she would not be enough.
You’re being awfully serious. If there’s a thing I hate, it’s serious.
Her heart stopped for a beat.
But I do love me a good buddy-cop tv-show. Guns, action, drama, pew, pew, pew. You can be the no-fun cop and I’ll be the one that hogs all the trailer-punchlines.
“Is… is that a yes?”
Precisely, my little brain bud. We will form an unstoppable duo. Elia-Rye! I’ll teach you how to survive in this cutthroat, woman-versus-undead world and you can teach me, I don’t know, culture and language and whatever.
“Uh-huh.” Rye had no idea if she would ever get use to this if this level of weirdness was par for the course.
There will be blood and leveling and hamburgers, too. We shall bathe in the blood of our enemies, clad in nothing but body paint and the will to survive like the old Germanic and Britannic tribes.
“I-I don’t know about that, Elia… You’re starting to scare me.”
Scared? SCARED? Rye, you haven’t witnessed true horror. We just beat level one of this godsdamned stupid world. No, we just finished the tutorial level. But don’t worry, together, we will learn to brave every challenge, every wretched foe thrown against us, and they shall break like uncooked spaghetti.
Rye chuckled, nervously. Spaghetti was a funny sounding word.
And for the first lesson in my infinite repertoire of tricks– oh fuck – DODGE!
“Hmm?” Rye had just enough time to wipe the lingering wetness from her eyes before an unwelcome figure stood on the stairs next to her, holding a spear and staring with muddled eyes. “Oh no.”
----------------------------------------
You have died
You didn’t even try to dodge.
Disbelief oozed from every pore of Elia’s voice. When in threat of dying, Rye had a remarkably easy time of freezing up and letting death take her. This didn’t speak well to her continued survival and when the attendant came around, worried about the undead curled up in fetal position, she lunged for a hug.
Really. I’m amazed. I thought I died easily, but wow. Just wow.
“Nnnh. Quiet.” She nuzzled her face deeper into the fine chainmail, soft like a baby’s bottom. It was easier to hide her tears this way, and her anger. Anger that she made the same mistake twice. Anger that where Elia made it look easy to dodge and weave between strikes, she had the mental fortitude of a day-old kit and the self-preservation instincts of a particularly delicate flower.
The gentle strokes of the servant whose name she didn’t even know were dulled through her helmet but soothe her they did regardless. She wanted another bath.
C’mon brain bud. Get up. You survived two deaths, what’s a few more?
“Five more minutes.” She mumbled.
Sure. Five-minute break. And then we get the souls and start buffing up.
To her infinite regret, five minutes had the audacity to pass. Rye got up, surprising even herself with how little she was shaking. One look at the attendant’s inviting smile was all it took for her thoughts to be tugged away from fear and back towards embarrassment.
“S-Sorry for getting you all dirty again. And thank you for the hug, miss…?”
“I am the attendant, a humble servant of the cerulean waters and bound to them as I am bound to thee. I have no need for a name. I welcome thee to the Crossroad Temple undead. I only hope thou hast found comfort within mine embrace.”
Rye stood still for a moment; brows furrowed. Didn’t she already say something like this before? She did, Rye was sure.
She took a step back. “Elia? Do people really not remember us when we die?”
There was a heavy silence, followed by a sigh.
Go get our souls back, Rye.
“O-ok.” Rye turned to the staircase and nervously made her way up. “But we have to talk about this later. Friends tell each other everything, right?”
Right.
The souls and sundry were almost laughably easy to find and easier to retrieve. They were a few feet closer to the entrance this time and she scooped them up, turned on her heel and bolted back indoors before the undead could even get within hearing distance.
You have regained–
She cut off the smoke, heart pounding as she reached the bottom of the stairs again. Only then did she breathe out, a fine film of sweat covering her brow. Undead could still sweat apparently. They weren’t so different from humans after all.
Geez, you can run, girl. Isn’t so bad if you’re quick about it, eh? Now, go touch the level-up lady.
Stilling her breath, she tried to look as presentable as she could be before talking to the attendant. Her ratty wraps and torn armor probably stunk to the heavens. Kneeling like before was a good way to hide her shame.
“Offer thy hand and let me search wherein thy path shall flow.”
Soul count: 11176
[Body] Soul of the Forlorn Giant [Uncommon]
Your Body is weak, like a sickly human.
0/4000 Moderate Increase to constitution.
0/??? Moderate increase to strength.
“O-ok. What now?” Rye whispered, though the attendant was close enough to hear as well.
“Let thy seeded soul fill with the strength of the lesser. Allow them a path and thou shall unravel strength hidden within. There are choices to be made, feed thy physical strength, feed thy constitution, feed both or none.” The attendant bowed in reverence, more to the process and idea than her. "... whether thou would trust me with the procedure of transmitting thy souls or not, thou must but say the word."
Rye blinked some of her spiraling worries away. It wasn't difficult the attendant could handle it and souls didn’t disappear. They were just… converted. Yeah, this wasn’t so bad. It couldn’t be. She was planning on passing Loften and dropping them off anyways, having them work to make the travel feasible was only fair.
Alright. Put four thousand into that first increase.
“And then everything after into strength?”
No, just constitution is fine. You think I died against the giant so often because I was weak? I died because after a minute of exertion, an ankle gave out, my arms cramped or turned into spaghetti after a dozen stabs. We’re fighting undead too, but we have to win every fight where only one of them has to succeed to force a reset. You’re gonna thank me later, believe me. Constitution is worth it, especially if you want to wear armor, which we will also have to buy because nobody we fight has anything fitting for your height.
“Tell me about it.” Rye whispered, then turned to the attendant. “Four thousand souls into my constitution please.”
A flow of wispy light exchanged between their hands as a notable change grew throughout her body. Her breath came deep, clear and without a rasp. The humming fatigue in her joints melted away and some of the feverishness disappeared as if it had never been.
Soul count: 7176
[Body] Soul of the Forlorn Giant [Uncommon]
Your Body is weak, like a sickly human. You have the constitution of an athletic adult human.
4000/4000 Moderate Increase to constitution.
0/??? Moderate increase to strength.
She took a deep breath, feeling it go, and go, and go on. Rye tugged at her tattered clothes, staring at the muscles underneath. All doubts and insecurities were washed away once she laid her eyes on the change. Her muscles didn’t bulge, but in tandem with her other tissues, they appeared much less malnourished and diseased.
“My skin. Look, Elia, my skin!” A few specks of healthy bronze were shining through, and bone showed only where bone ought to show.
Congrats. Still convinced souls are holy and shouldn’t be used for anything?
Rye tensed, a tinge of guilt worming its way through the curtain of joy. It was nice, yes, but if the conversion rate of souls was one to one, then it took four thousand lives to elevate her just this little bit. She would have to offer a sacrifice for all of them as thanks.
“Well… they are technically still inside me. I can still take them to the gods and hope they will… I don’t know, reincarnate them?”
Elia let out a derisive snort.
“… is there anything you’d like to say, friend?”
Just that you’ve fallen for the oldest trick in Hollywood history.
“Trick?”
The oldest trick! Quests, prophecies, weird level up magic, WAKE UP RYE! They’re grooming you to be their dedicated errand girl. You’ll see, soon you’re gonna stumble upon a quirky mentor who’ll teach you the secrets of the world only to mysteriously disappear or get tragically murked because old men toting wands and wisdom attracts murderous masterplans like cheese does the lactose intolerant!
Rye smiled, finding pleasure in the simple act of breathing. “That was a very long sentence and I understood not one bit. Now c’mon, let us trade in some soul – I mean bone shards. BOON SHARDS! You didn’t forget that the next one is mine, have you?”
Of course not, my silly little friend. It’s time to buy you some real equipment. Might even sell the broken sword and shield. Where’d you put them?
Rye thought back her own first death. “I… forgot them in our room. Does that mean they’re gone now?”
Yep. Lost in the cracks of time. Shame about the shield. Oh well, it was high time to get you a new weapon anyways.
“And we’d trade with what, souls?” Rye crossed her arms in protest. “No. Not with me.”
Dammit Rye. Money doesn’t just disappear when you spend it, it stays in the economy.
“And the economy is a cycle…” She stood in silent, awkward contemplation. “Ok, just this once, I will close an eye or two. Even if I feel like you’re trying to manipulate me.”
That’s what friends do! Looking out for you, Rye. Now we can finally get a new sword, shield, armor, and stuff.
“Oh, and new clothes!”
Food!
“BOOTS!