“Pain is a function of the body and mind, just like any other. It teaches us what harms us and urges us to avoid such things. But sometimes the things that hurt us cannot be circumvented or escaped. Then, we learn to live with the pain. It becomes a part of us.”
-
Snowflake watched Quinn leave. She did not look back as she walked out the door of the small room. He felt a frown twist his face and furrow his brow. Their talk was enlightening, but he still didn’t have the answers he wanted, or the relief he craved.
He took a deep breath, held it for a second, and then let it out in a great sigh. It did not help. So, he reached out to scratch Nevasca’s head but pulled up short at a shocking sight.
His hand.
He had forgotten, again. The grotesque souvenir of his failure all but stared back at him. As if prompted by the reminder, the stubs of his ring and pinky finger began to ache. His middle finger itched where the missing chunks had been healed over, to an extent. The scar tissue was stiff when he flexed it.
Whenever he wasn’t looking at his missing fingers, he felt like he was whole. “Phantom limbs,” the [Healers] called it.
The self-inflicted deformities were a heavy reminder of the blood price paid in his stead. It brought Snowflake’s mood even lower. The image of the [Assassin], ripped apart in spite of their prowess, lurked in the back of Snowflake’s mind. It reminded him that he owed everything he had to the sacrifices of others.
A sharp pain brought Snowflake’s attention back to his hand. His nails had cut into the meat of his palm, causing blood to run through his clenched fist. It flowed with ease, finding the empty spaces where his fingers should be. Nevasca mewled and licked at his hand.
He had fought so hard, but he was still so weak.
With one hand, Snowflake tried to reassure Nevasca. With the other, Snowflake reached up to touch his shoulder, seeking his own solace. Alas, no cloak hung there. It was almost enough to make him laugh. His inability to break the habit of seeking comfort from his past made him wonder if his missing cloak was a phantom limb as well.
Snowflake sighed and tried to force those thoughts from his mind, using an old and familiar method. He closed his eyes and summoned the flame in his mind.
His eyes snapped back open and his heart stuttered in his chest.
At some point, the flame had become a terrible thing to behold, fed on a steady diet of Snowflake’s most unsavory thoughts and emotions. Amongst the chaos, he had forgotten that it had somehow been brought to life in his Soulspace.
It burned dark, which he had known for a while. However, there was something more to it which made it… unsavory. Snowflake closed his eyes and summoned it once again. He grit his teeth and forced his way through his apprehension to take a closer look at it.
It reminded him of a dark twin to [Adaptability]. He could not quite pinpoint what gave him that feeling, but the flickering black and purple flames oozed a twisted feeling of hunger where [Adaptability] felt of endless growth.
Still. If he could, Snowflake would feed all the parts of himself that he hated to this dark flame. Only the dark spiral of his thoughts kept him from doing so, even with the uneasy aura it emanated.
If he fed the parts of himself he did not want to this Flame, what would be left? Would he be consumed by it, just for it to take his place?
The warped, but understandable, logic of those thoughts made Snowflake pause. Despite the claims that this world ran on magic based in concepts such as transformations of energy, he had seen many strange things since coming here. He was hesitant to explain away those phenomenon with what he could comprehend of energy transformations.
The first example of strange phenomenon to spring to mind was this: the mental exercise he used to control his thoughts had taken on a life of its own. ‘The Flame’ as he now thought of it.
He stared at it now; that dark, bitter feeling inside himself made all too real. What would it grow into if he continued to feed it?
A snarl twisted Snowflake’s face as he banished the Flame back into his Soulspace. It hung there like a dark star, begging to give him relief from his spiraling thoughts. He fought the urge for a quick release from the emotional torment and decided to bear the pain. This too was a price he would pay to grow stronger.
Snowflake closed his eyes and wished himself into the sweet oblivion known as sleep. It had been a long day, full of violence and harsh truths. He was exhausted.
***
From the black nothingness of the place the lies between the lands of wakefulness and dreams, a green blob materialized. Curious, he walked toward it. The distance melted away.
When it saw him, it turned to run away. He gave chase. With each step he gained on it, forcing the edges into clearer focus. It couldn’t outrun him. Not before, not now, and never again.
When he was close enough, he could make out a child’s body, painted green. Crude, pointed ears were taped to its own, giving it the appearance of a goblin. Snowflake felt himself raise his hand. It was heavy. He looked to see his flanged mace in his grasp.
Phantom limbs or no, he could vividly feel each strike as he laid into the child. The bones would hold for the briefest of moments before they gave, with a sickening crunch. Vibrant crimson blood washed over simple green paint. The vivid colors exploded out from the falling child and into the darkness. They swirled together like oil and water, never mixing.
Unable to control his body, Snowflake was held captive as he kicked the body over. The child was still alive, their eyes wide with fear. He stared into their face, and blinked. His own face was staring back. Young, wounded, and frightened, but it was him. He blinked again.
Now, he was staring up at himself. He was older, marked with the scars of many battles. A vicious, sharp-toothed grin twisted his face, framed by a crown of dark fire. He raised his mace for the final blow. No. Wait. There was no mace, just three fingers spread like an eagle’s talons.
Snowflake screamed up to himself, begging for mercy. He didn’t even know what crime he committed to deserve such a gruesome death. Red eyes flashed with anger and the claw-like hand fell like a descending star. It pierced his chest, grasping at his heart.
***
Snowflake woke with a start, gasping. His body was covered in a cold sweat. Again. Every time he closed his eyes to sleep it was the same vision, over and over. His hand tingled with the feel of crunching bones and his chest ached where he had torn out his own heart.
Nevasca nuzzled his face and let out a pitiful meow. Snowflake pulled her close and buried his face in her fur. Tears of helpless frustration welled in his eyes. The emotions were overwhelming and he didn’t know what to do. He just wanted to sleep. Too many things had happened for a single day. He needed a break.
Alas, no matter how hard he tried, he could not escape his own mind and the emotions rioting within.
The Flame burned in his mind, an ever present temptation.
Snowflake was finished. He didn’t want to think about the things he had deluded himself into doing, or the luck it had taken for him to survive. The only reason he was here to regret his mistakes was the compassion of an enemy.
It made him feel ill. He struck down the Champion’s people without a second thought, because someone told him to. Three weeks of training at the hands of the Guild was not enough to buy such unwavering loyalty, debt or no. What had been thinking?
Even then, the Champion spared his life. The [Assassin] died in his place. It was just like Magic all over again.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
She had sacrificed her chance at freedom so that he, a Native, could play at being an Awakened in a strange world that cared nothing for him. How did he repay her? By obsessing over his Core and Class instead of doing whatever it took to free her.
Snowflake wiped his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. At some point, it had become quick and shallow.
On the edge of desperation, Snowflake tried one last thing to push the intrusive thoughts from him mind. Distraction.
He had been putting this off for the last few hours. With the threat of immediate death behind him, Snowflake had wrestled with whether or not he truly deserved the levels and Skills he was sure he earned from today’s encounter. But, that way of thinking was another slippery slope to a whirling pool of dark thoughts.
Snowflake closed his eyes and slipped into his Soulspace before he could over think it, again.
Inside, [Adaptability] still shone like a distant star, but it was much brighter now than before. Its light illuminated something akin to a small world. Not the sort of world full of life that Snowflake lived in, but a world created by his Core and shaped by his Class. Snowflake could sense that was where his Skills resided.
The world-like representation for his Core, Class, and Skills was new but not unexpected. He hadn’t exactly dwelled on the contents of his Soulspace the last few times he was here, but he expected some sort of representation of his growth made manifest.
It was an odd thing though. Pointless in a way, really. This was all just a metaphor that he could not interact with any more than using it to level up. It struck him as unnecessary. Wouldn’t it be easier if a voice spoke into his mind to notify him of changes or some other such-
A cold chill went down Snowflake’s ethereal spine as he caught sight of something that had gone initially unnoticed. In the distance, just beyond the light of [Adaptability], the dark flame he had created lurked like a predator stalking the night. It made him pause. The fact that here, in his Soulspace, was a representation of his method for controlling his emotions was… odd.
Perhaps his Soulspace held more significance than he gave it credit for. In his mind, he labelled the dark, burning ball of emotions as the ‘Flame.’ Then, he put it out of his mind. For now, at least. Snowflake was here for a reason. He reached for the world of Skills and it responded to his touch, causing notifications to spring to life.
[[Body Enhancer] level up! Level 10]
[Skill obtained: [Troll’s Physique]]
[Skills consumed: [Rapid Recovery], [Sturdy Bones], [Lesser Toughness], & [Lesser Might]]
The Skills seemed to merge together, twisting and changing to create something greater than the sum of the parts. It would be a powerful Skill, Snowflake could feel it. In the distance, [Adaptability] pulsed and [Troll’s Physique] responded in turn. Snowflake could feel an aura of strength and endless vitality emanating from it.
[Input detected]
The Flame pulsed, resonating with his new Skill.
[Soulspace creation [Flame] wishes to make changes to [Troll’s Physique]. Accept?]
[Y/N]
The notification caught Snowflake by surprise. The timing seemed odd. It was strange that it was so convenient. This sort of thing happened all the time in his old world but… He shrugged it off. It would be a while before he was in a position to analyze the workings of the System. When that time came, he would look back on this moment with understanding.
For now, he mentally clicked [Yes]. His discarded emotions, as dark as they may be, held power. Great power. Once, when he gave into his emotions in his old world, he had been able to overthrow a terrible power that was keeping him captive, tapping into a strength he didn’t know he had. He craved that security. [Troll’s Physique] already seemed geared toward his survival against impossible odds. With the addition of what the Flame could bring to the table then-
The System accepted his answer. Immediately, [Troll’s Physique] ignited and began to scorch in an inferno of black and purple fire.
With a voiceless scream, Snowflake lunged for the burning Skill. He could feel it dying. The Flame sought to consume it.
[Troll’s Physique] battled against the flames, leveraging its massive vitality to recover and repair itself, over and over. It was not enough.
Snowflake tried once again to alter the course of the fight, but he had made his choice. He was repelled by the System, unable to interfere. With grim resolve, he forced himself to not look away. He watched as [Troll’s Physique] was consumed, piece by piece, by something he had created. Something he chose.
[Error! Recalculating…]
[Syncing….]
[Input accepted]
[Skill [Troll’s Physique] deleted]
[Skill conditions met! [Mark of the Jötunn] obtained]
Where [Troll’s Physique] was a joining of multiple Skills, [Mark of the Jötunn] consumed the ashes of its predecessor and rose like a cruel phoenix. There was a certain ugly relief to knowing a new Skill had replaced [Troll’s Physique]. However, Snowflake felt a pit in his stomach when he looked at it. He had a sinking feeling that nothing good could come from something touched by his Flame.
That said, he still tried to get a feel for his new Skill. It was a part of him now. There was no point in denying that. It loomed amongst its other Skills, a dark giant altering him from inside his Soulspace. Alas, no matter how he examined it, it was like trying to peer through the mirror-like surface of a still lake. He could not judge what it held in its depths.
Uncaring of his struggles, the notifications continued to appear. In response, the inner workings of Snowflake’s Soulspace continued to change.
[[Body Enhancer] level up! Level 11]
[[Body Enhancer] level up! Level 12]
[Skill obtained: [Savage Defense]]
[[Body Enhancer] level up! Level 13]
[Skill conditions met! [Lesser Grit] → [Tenacity]]
Snowflake kept an uneasy eye on the Flame and the Skill it mutated as he examined his rewards for surviving that harrowing encounter. They were not great.
Even putting [Mark of the Jötunn] aside, he felt swindled. After all that effort, he had gained a mere four levels and a smattering of Skills. In fact, [Troll’s Physique] had cost him four Skills. The loss of [Rapid Recovery] and [Sturdy Bones] stung more than he cared to admit.
So, he was down four Skills and had only gained two Skills total. Three if he was generous with the definition of gain. There was one Flame-touched Skill, one average sounding Skill, and he had ‘gained’ [Tenacity]. Really, the Skill had changed from one confusing thing to another. It was much less than he had expected given his previous advancements.
Well, what was done was done. No use stressing over such a small thing when he had bigger worries.
Snowflake opened his eyes and took stock of his body. He angled his hands and arms in the light, examining them. There was not much different. He thought that [Mark of the Jötunn] might have changed him a little after consuming [Troll’s Physique], but that didn’t seem to be the case.
Unless… was his skin tinged with a hint of blue?
He peered closer, but for the life of him he could not decide if it was a trick of the mind or not.
A sharp knock on the door broke him from his inspection.
With as much care as he could manage while still hurrying, Snowflake moved a resting Nevasca and rushed to answer the door. On the other side waited a massive red-skinned man in plate armor; swirling black tattoos covered his exposed skin.
A dim sense of disappointment filled Snowflake at the sight. He had been half expecting someone else.
“Hey,” Mordai said, shifting with obvious discomfort in the small hallway. His expression sharpened for a moment before relaxing. “I heard ya had some issues with your first mission and wanted to come check in, ya know?”
“Oh hey, Mordai,” Snowflake said, summoning a weak smile. “Is Honey with you?”
“Nah, she is dealing with some stuff.” Mordai started to reach up toward the horns protruding from his skull, but seemed to notice and stopped himself. Instead, he returned Snowflake’s weak smile. “I thought we could chat.”
“Sure. Do you want to come in or..?”
Mordai gave the small room a distasteful look.
“I would rather go somewhere, if that’s cool.” He hesitated, as if considering whether or not he should say something. After a moment he seemed to come to a conclusion. “Actually… did you manage to get a [Physique]? It’s just that I never took you as the body altering type.”
Snowflake let out a quick whistle and Nevasca came padding over, but not before she shot him a dirty look and deliberately took far longer stretching than strictly necessary. Tsking at her, he made his way out of his one-room living space. He shut the door behind them, replying in the process.
“It is sort of a long story. I had a [Physique] but it was…” Snowflake struggled to find the right words as they made their way out of the drab building and into the well-lit streets. With light energy at the tip of everyone’s fingers, the city was never truly asleep. “Consumed, I guess. The Skill that replaced it is… confusing.”
Mordai side eyed him.
“A [Mark] Skill, yeah?”
“Yes, how did you-“
Snowflake caught sight of himself in the reflective surface of Mordai’s armor. An intricate tattoo, inked in pure white, surrounded one of his eyes and spread across almost a fourth of his face. It was circular with sharp angles interlocking with each other. He stared at it for a long moment before something else caught his attention. Surrounding the outer irises of his eyes was a thin red line, like a halo of blood.
In his mind, red eyes flashed as they tore him open. Visions of red and green flashed across his vision. His phantom fingers ached with the feel of crunching bones.
He stumbled. His knees felt weak.
“[Stand Your Ground].”
A wave light crashed over him and filled him with a sense of hope and a fierce fighting spirit. One of his new Skills resonated with that feeling, amplifying it. [Tenacity].
“Oh,” was all Snowflake could say.
“You look like you oughta sit down and have a drink,” Mordai said, moving to prop Snowflake up. His Skill had a strong effect, but he could only maintain it for so long. “I know a good place. Come on lets-“
“No,” Snowflake said, cutting him off. He pulled out of the larger man’s grip, softening the gesture with a light ‘thank you’ pat on his arm. “I need to test my new Skills. I want to see what my pain bought me.”
At those words, the [Paladin] stiffened. Mordai’s expression reminded Snowflake of an old cliff face he had once seen. It had been battered and by the Great Stormwinds and the waves they caused for centuries, but it still held resolute, protecting the small villages that cowered behind it. Perhaps this [Paladin] had more depth than Snowflake gave him credit for.
“Are you sure?” he said, voice bereft of judgement.
Snowflake reached up to touch his face where the [Mark of the Jötunn] had claimed ownership. His voice was a whisper as he replied.
“I need this.”
With a nod, Mordai altered his course to lead them to the training grounds. He pressed a hand against the pauldron covering his shoulder and began to rotate his arm. After a few seconds he switched sides and repeated the movement, warming up for what was to come.