I couldn’t help but laugh at the notification’s wording as I closed it. The rest of my life? I’d already lived out the rest of my life. This was a second chance that I’d never asked for. And in this moment of respite, I finally had time to process that I’d lost everything again. All my friends, what was left of my family, and thirty five years worth of work towards clearing these damned hazards. Stolen away because some asshole couldn’t keep his head attached to his shoulders.

Garrett and Tarel. The man who was going to… be me, and the embodiment who would make it happen. But the words of that announcement came back to me, and they brought nothing but confusion.

“The final chosen has fallen. Not ‘the chosen has fallen’, but ‘the final chosen’.” I said, planting my sword in the ground and pacing back and forth inside the ring of dull mossy stones. “Which means there had to be people who died before Garrett. Or one person, but that’s not likely. No; there’s got to be a bunch of those ‘chosen’ and embodiments choosing them. Did all of them steal someone else’s core? Do all of them remember up until the point that they died? Hell, was Garrett actually the last one that died or had he been dead for years when the last chosen died?”

I sighed and grabbed my sword, slamming it to my back and giving my armor a command to restrain it. My chestpiece morphed to lock it in place, and as I let go I felt a longing in my chest for the weapon on my back. I froze and held my hand up to where my heart had been replaced by my core, feeling a beat through my armor that was chaotic and had no discernible pattern whatsoever. Either I was having a heart attack, or there was something in me that was hidden behind that //NULL on my interface.

“Um, are you real?”

I spun on my heel to face the voice that was behind me. It belonged to someone wearing yellow and black armor that looked like metal bandages condensed into a suit. Their body language said they were terrified of me, backing away while making themself as small as possible and avoiding any possible eye contact.

“As real as any of this is.” I responded, stepping towards the bundle of nerves with my hand reaching towards the rusted sword’s hilt. If someone else was here, then they also had a level one hazard tolerance. Which meant they could be one of those chosen. “How are you here?”

“I don’t know. Everything went weird, I saw this screen appear in front of me, and I was suddenly here.” The armored figure said quietly, eyes locked on my hand resting on my sword. “Where are we? Am I going to die?”

The figure choked back a sob. “Am I already dead?”

Unless this person was a masterful actor, they were flying blind. But somehow they’d managed not to get sent to a safe area. I weighed my choices between sending them away and talking for a while. I went to scratch my face, but hit only metal. I hadn’t been truly alone for over a decade in both of my lifetimes, and I wasn’t about to become a hermit this time around.

“You’re not dead. But everyone you knew might be.” I said bluntly, not wanting to dance around the topic. “Our world’s gone, and we’re here now. But what I don’t understand is how you’re here.”

The armored person straightened at that, as if knowing that I was real overshadowed the fact that our world was utterly gone. It cocked its head to the side, scanning my armor before its gaze locked onto my sword. “I didn’t see that in the shop. How’d you get it?”

“You tell me why you haven’t been sent to a safe place first.” I said firmly, then paused. The sound of a shattering tree had just begun anew. “Actually, you’re going to climb this tree with me first. We’ll talk when we’re safe.”

I turned and sprinted up to the nearest tree, and the unknown person followed me without question. That was a dangerous amount of trust in a person they’d just met, even if I didn’t have any ill intentions. They scampered up the tree with far more grace than I could muster, and looked down on me for a handful of seconds as I slowly made my way up to the lowest branch.

As my hand grabbed the too-warm appendage, they spoke up. “I don’t really get what you’re saying, but I came here with two people who disappeared right after we… um… teleported? Is that what you’re talking about?”

“It is.” I grunted, pulling myself up to the thick branch. “If you’re here, then that means you have a hazard tolerance of at least one.” I looked over at the armor, watching as they stared blankly out in front of them. The telltale sign of checking your interface.

“I do.” The armor said slowly. “How did you know that?”

“Because we’re in a level one hazard, which would kick you out if you had anything less than one tolerance.” I replied. “Your friends had zero tolerance, which is normal, but you and I have one. I’m not really sure how I have mine, and I’m even less sure how someone who knows as little as you do has yours.”

“You and me both.” The armor sighed. “Can I show you my interface? Maybe you’ll see something I’m missing.”

I shook my head and turned to watch the trees, trying to pinpoint where the flood would come from. “That’s a horrible idea for more than one reason.”

“What? Why?” The armor asked, and I could feel their piercing frown through both of our helmets. “If it’s a bad idea, tell me why and I won’t ask again.”

“Fair point.” I chuckled, leaning back against the tree’s trunk to face my new co-miserator. “If I wanted to see your interface, you’d have to give me access. And there aren’t levels of access, like you have for computers, so I’d have full reign over everything in your interface.”

I waited for an understanding nod, but got a confused stare instead. So I continued. “If I had that access, I could unequip all of your armor and throw it off this tree. I could steal anything you had in your inventory. I could make my access permanent, so you couldn’t use your interface ever again. It’s not just a show of trust; it’s the show of trust.”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

I got the understanding nod I’d hoped for, and there was a splash of horrified shudders thrown in for good measure. “I…” They audibly gulped and shook their head. “Okay. That sounds horrible. Maybe I could just read everything out to you?”

That seemed like a far safer alternative, and considering we were going to be stuck up here for at least a dozen minutes, I wasn’t in any hurry. “Go ahead.”

I heard the armor take a deep breath, then they turned to straddle the branch and face me. They rattled off their stats and equipment in order, not saying their name that I knew was on that list.

If my interface hadn’t had a note taking function, I’d have had to ask for a whole lot of clarification. Instead, I had a visual in front of me.

Unknown Yellow and Black armor

Core: Holographic Parasite

Equipment

  (Shoddy,Rare) Helmet of Destruction

  (Crafted,Common) Chestpiece of Resilience

  (Shoddy,Rare) Gauntlet of Endurance

  (Shoddy,Rare) Gauntlet of The Juggernaut

  (Shoddy,Common) Arm of Battery x2

  (Crafted,Common) Legs of Power

  (Shoddy,Common) Boot of Speed x2

Core Stats

  Mastery: 1   Hazard: 1   Health: 86

Armor Stats

  Battery: 8   Speed: 6   Power: 9   Resilience: 9   Recovery: 4

Core Functions

  Static Mutualism

Armor Functions

  Empty

Inventory

  (Shoddy,Common)Short Sword

I held my tongue as I re-read the values over and over again, but all of this person’s stats seemed extremely high for the gear they had equipped. Quick mental calculations from what I remembered classifications like ‘juggernaut’ and ‘destruction’ left the stats at a little more than half of what I saw in front of me.

I tried to lean back further and felt the tree behind me squish under my newly acquired blade. I couldn’t make sense of these stats; they were the kind of numbers I’d expect to see on someone with hazard tolerance level five or higher, not on someone with tolerance one. But my new ‘friend’ was still looking at me expectantly, so I had to say something. Even if the question was a little intrusive.

“Can you hover over ‘Static Mutualism’ and tell me what it says?”

My new friend nodded eagerly, swiped their hand through the air, then held a finger on one specific spot. “I didn’t know I could do that.” They murmured. “Static Mutualism; Core Function of the Holographic Parasite. Every number is either increased or decreased by one based on what will be more beneficial to the bearer.”

Every number? Depending on how universal ‘every’ was, that could be one of the most powerful core functions I’d ever seen. Or it could quickly become completely pointless if it only applied to the bonus stats from gear.

“It says every number? You’re sure about that?” I asked, looking for clarification. My new friend nodded quickly, which made things even more complicated. “Okay. Alright. That’s ripe for the breaking.”

I called my inventory with a thought, a patinated carrot appearing in my hand. I offered it to my friend, who accepted it with confusion.

“You found food here?” They asked, reaching up to their helmet to remove it.

I gently grabbed their hand before they could make a huge mistake. “Not for eating. Identify the carrot, and tell me what numbers come up. If they’re the same as mine, then your core function only works for things you have equipped. If even the carrot’s numbers are increased, well, you’ve got a very powerful function on your hands.”

My new friend nodded, then focused very intently on the carrot for a few seconds. Then for a few seconds more. And another handful of seconds that stretched to almost a minute. “How do I identify something?” They eventually asked sheepishly.

“Just stare at it with your interface open and think ‘identify’.” I instructed. “It shouldn’t take more than a few seconds for something simple like this.”

“Okay.” They said, and resumed staring at the carrot. The stare grew more intense as they leaned forward, shaking as they tried to focus everything they had on this metallic vegetable. “Inspect.” They whispered, then fell back with a yelp of surprise.

I surged forwards and grabbed their wrist before they toppled off the branch to the ground below. The carrot wasn’t so lucky, the clank of it hitting the tree’s massive roots echoing up to where I was standing. “What happened?”

“It worked, but I had to actually say ‘inspect’.” My friend explained, then looked guiltily down at the splattered carrot. “Sorry about your… um… rustroot.”

The vegetable meant nothing to me, but the fact that my friend had just used its proper name meant that they’d actually managed to identify it. It needed a verbal trigger for them for some reason, unlike my own, but everyone’s interface was slightly different.

“I’ve got more, so don’t worry about it.” I said, waving off my friend’s worry. “What do the numbers say?”

“Oh. Right, um…” They trailed off. “Here they are. Two-hundred and one percent and fifty-one percent. There’s no way that’s what you saw, right? So my core function works on this too?”

My fingers laced themselves together as my thoughts ran wild. Their function was absurdly abusable if I could get the right equipment into this person’s hands. Or the right functions into their core. Hell, if the stat nodes were all increased by one, and not the total sum of them, my new friend would be one of the strongest people on this new, nameless world by core mastery thirty-five.

“That it does.” I confirmed. “And once this flood goes by, we’re going to go find you a sword like mine.”

I leaned back once more and watched as my new friend shook with… excitement, I decided. I had to make sure that excitement didn’t lead them into an early grave, since I didn’t remember anyone in the last go around having their exact core. Hell, maybe me not being here was the reason they died last time.