Caau is beyond bored. The story is ever as it goes; death and reincarnation. The only difference is that, where normal stories are concerned, the reincarnated one is actually enjoying their life. Caau is, without a doubt, not.
For he is a piece of shit stone in the middle of a fucking cave in which absolutely nothing has happened for five years. Some merciful god decided that time passes much, much quicker — but that doesn’t mean it goes fast.
And whomever decided that this was a brilliant spot to put him also decided to give him absolutely fuck-all to do. It’s like when he tried to cram through a physics course whilst having zero interest and ADHD. À la, a horrible time. That said… he does have a companion. A very annoying, bitchy ’Administrator.’
Annoying and bitchy? Don’t flatter me with such accuracy. I just find your tedious inquiries boring.
About a year into this torture, he’d started feeling physical pain from said boredom. How? Who knows — but it wouldn’t be torture without physical pain, so that’s the only logical explanation.
Is this hell? Is this what I get for living my life how I wanted to live it?
[ Stone Obelisk ]
[ The Forgotten Lands ]
[ Followers: 0 ]
[ Completed Expeditions: 0 ]
[ To unlock Expeditions, recruit a follower or create a Guardian ]
And the only abilities I have?
[ Abilities ]:
[ Spark I ]
[ Bless I ]
Do I know what they do? Not a fucking chance. Hey, hey, System — how about you fucking tell me what they do?
[ Spark I ]
Prepare yourself for the wondrous and groundbreaking ability that requires a 2000-word essay to explain; this revolutionary ability gives you the ability to conjure a small burst of flame — with all the luminosity of a dying firefly in a dark forest.
Alright look; there’s no need to be a fucking dick about—
[ Bless I ]
Bless grants the utterly remarkable ability to, you guessed it, Bless people.
It’s like sprinkling glitter on a pile of dung and expecting it to be hung on the walls of a museum.
The fuck is your problem?
The system does not respond, and eventually he goes back to the task of staring at a cave wall.
The good news is that he can see. The bad news is that it’s pitch black; and he can’t see. Yes, he can literally see — for example, he was able to glean that he’s surrounded by stone when he’d used the spark… but that’s about it. The other good news is that he can, in fact, hear without ears.
He can tell that because of the single drop of water that’s been dripping on him… once or twice a day… for god-damned years now. Almost to mock him; to spite him, to show that he’s absolutely worthless… it drips. It lands on the tip of his pyramid-shaped top and runs, ever so slowly, down the side. He can feel it… every single time. It’s how he knows he has some kind of lettering on his surface, but that’s about all it tells him.
This is what he gets, isn’t it? For daring to live a life of general solitude back on… back on…?
Why don’t I remember? I don’t… I don’t know where I came from.
Am I going insane?
Did I do something bad? Is this some divine punishment; or some sick and twisted commandment from a demon?
He doesn’t know. All he knows… is that nothing is happening. Nothing continues to happen for what must be another five years. He’s not blissfully ignorant of the time passing. He’s awake… for every moment. There’s a timer in the corner of his vision, practically at all times. The seconds seem to skip by in five or six second intervals… but it feels like an hour passes between each one. It’s like when you look at a clock when at work. The more you look the longer the day feels.
He… hears something. Scraping, the sounds of small feet running along stone.
I cannot miss this chance!
He springs into action… as much a piece of shaped stone can spring. He activates [ Spark I ], and the small bowl implanted in the bottom of his shaft lights up in a fiery display!
For all of one second. The creature, whatever it was, has already passed. It was gone before he even thought to activate the skill. As it turns out stone doesn’t have a good reaction time.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Cursed. That’s what I am. I’m absolutely fucking cursed. I bet the first person to touch me just keels over. Oh god, I’m going to be here forever.
At this rate, that’s a very good possibility. I feel like I should poke you with a stick.
More footsteps… this time a whole load! He [ Spark I ]’s as fast as possible, but they’ve already gone. He must be a good 10 or so seconds delayed. Maybe if he could actually see them it would be different, but they pass so quickly.
Frustration only grows as he waits. And then… voices, and slow movements.
“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!” comes whispered shouts. “We’re in too deep, far too deep.”
Shambling footsteps and the sound of heavy armour shuffling around. He can’t see them, so he uses [ Spark I ].
[ Daily uses 2/2 — Ability Disabled ]
Are you fucking kidding?
Oh, my apologies! How utterly devastating that you can only utilise your extraordinary power a grand total of two times per day. Clearly, such limitations are a gross injustice to your… boundless potential.
What? Fuck you, you garbage excuse for a System. What, they not paying you enough to speak words at me?
Did you expect a sophisticated and intelligent System; oh I am devastated I do not meet your standards. Perhaps I should lower myself to your level of incompetence?
“Shut the hell up Strauss. We need to stick together and not panic. We can get back up.”
There’s a child crying. Can’t be more than ten or so from the sound, and an older-sounding women calms them, whispering small reliefs.
“That’s really easy for you to say; you didn’t lose your fucking arm!”
“It’s not an impossibility to heal. We just need to get back to the Sanctuary. There’s got to be a Waystone… there has to be!”
“I wish you would both shut it! You’ll make the Gorakhin find us in an instant!”
What are they going on about? Hey! Hey! Over here! You stupid fucks! Over here!
Don’t strain yourself too much.
Nothing. No words come from his stone; no glorious shout that rumbles the caves. Soon they will be gone, and he will be alone again.
Footsteps… small. The other things. They rush through the tunnel, and there’s a scream before heavy footfalls start running towards him. “Strauss! Take the kid and Windwalk! I’ll hold them here!”
More footsteps, but this time they approach from the other side. Whoever these people are — they are surrounded.
“Grand… that’s not possible. We’re surrounded. We’re fucked.”
He can see them now. They huddle in the tight formation; three men pressed together, two women behind — one clutching a child in her arms. One of them, Strauss he assumes, has a missing arm that does not weep blood; instead glowing with a slight golden colouration.
They move backwards, forced by something he can’t see. Backwards into him. The elderly lady rummages in her bag as she backs up, retrieving a strapped together dual vial of some kind of liquid, the colour completely indiscernible. She throws it forward; a massive flash of light blooms like a flower, coating the cave with a viscous, glowing substance.
Well, that makes it much easier to see.
Whilst you may not be able to light up the darkness even 1% as well as that; you do possess a truly enviable skill for sitting in the dark for years on end.
[https://media.discordapp.net/ephemeral-attachments/1022054419510075402/1170427522727563295/zlo3097_a_horde_of_nasty-looking_goblins_in_a_dark_cave_fe14c6a5-688a-46af-9bf7-020b56f8ae36.png?ex=65590092&is=65468b92&hm=99d01f17ca783b160f22d08a3377b65805bdc0d0429c6afaf99301425cbc08fd&=&width=558&height=741]
This small team, comprised of five members, is, wholly and utterly, surrounded. No less than ten or so squat, barbarous creatures stare at them hoisting swords of bone or crude iron with malice practically dripping from their mouths… and with slobber at the anticipation of fresh blood.
They are only half the size of the humans, but they still inch closer, held away only by a large man, armoured to the teeth in what looks like straight iron. It doesn’t shine like steel, at least.
The final man is taller than the lot of them, with hair as black as night. He’s got a long greatsword — not something he can hoist about in the darkness, but now that he can see he places it out in front of him, forcing the goblins to shrink back in fear. He takes a glance back at the red-haired girl holding the child.
Why would you bring a kid into a cave? It doesn’t make any sense.
Your innocence is amusing. You see, bringing a child into a cave is a stroke of brilliance. Why, it makes prefect sense — how else would one ensure the child’s character is properly forged than to plummet them into the depths? What better way to unlock their Neophyte Attribute than subjecting them to abject terror and danger? It’s about building character — a truly flawless plan.
“Krista! Give me the vial!” he shouts as a goblin tries its luck, dancing forward to slash at his ankles. The man snaps the sword out, catching the goblin under the armpit and wrenching the blade high. The goblin, caught by a small hook on the end of the blade, screeches throughout its entire journey to the ceiling before it impacts; leaving a small crater in the stone and falling back to the ground a broken, cracked mess of blood and bone. Krista shakes her head. “You can’t! It will kill you!”
The boy somehow starts to cry louder. Two goblins go for the armoured man, stabbing their crude weaponry from both sides. He blocks the right with his shield, pressing forward to slam the goblin against the wall, but the other blade digs through his iron plate, right into his leg.
He falls like a titan, and the goblins smell blood. They shift like a writhing, living mass to climb atop the man, stabbing for the eye-holes and the smallest gaps in the armour. The older lady flicks her finger, tossing a vial into the air and then clicking, creating the smallest spark that detonates, spreading gold-glowing liquid across the entire right side of the cave.
What the hell was that?
A little phenomenon called ’reacting.’ When a mortal touches that celestial energy, they receive a nice warm healing bath. Should an immortal touch it… well, let’s just say their skin has an unfortunate tendency towards… disintegration. Quite the thrilling spectacle, is it not?
The goblins touched with even the smallest amount begin to scream like it were molten gold; but the armoured man stands, the wound in his leg magically gone. The elderly lady then takes a step back as she looks in her satchel. “I’m out of vials… that’s all I—“ Caau’s — apparently sharp — pyramid-top stabs through the skin on her thigh as she presses herself back against the wall.
A hero in the making, aren’t we?
She wrenches herself around only for her eyes to widen enough the he fears they might pop out of her skull. It takes her a second for a her jaw to stop hanging loose; but then she cries out in relief and her face lights up; showing the tapestry of passed time suddenly reverse to — almost — look young again. “This is… a Waystone! We're saved!”