After a bit of experimentation, I conclude that yes, I can heal the damage to a dead body. However, it takes a lot of mana. If healing the spear wound on Bastet took about sixty mana, repairing a small cut to the hide of the bisonisan takes about a hundred and seventy. Almost three times as much, and the wound was probably smaller than the one I healed on Bastet. Clearly this new Skill of mine is going to be a mana-hog. I’m going to have to continue to increase my mana pool and/or mana regeneration rate.
If I don’t use Meditation, it takes less than half an hour to completely replenish my mana pool; using Meditation cuts that time to around ten minutes. So, not too bad unless, like with Bastet after the incident with the salamander, it’s a question of life and death. Though, thinking about it, possibly the issue is that I’m still relatively low level in my Flesh-Shaping Skill; maybe later I’ll get some efficiency bonuses which will reduce the initial cost. Or practice will make perfect – maybe I’m unknowingly using more mana than I need.
Still, at least my experimentation has increased my Flesh-Shaping Skill level by two, taking it to Initiate eight. Plus, all the back-and-forth between my Core and the wound has also pushed my Energy Manipulation up a level to Journeyman eight. Though, thinking about it, I reckon that that was less because of the frequency of the actions, and more because I’m pretty sure I managed to cross a threshold when it comes to channelling and controlling large amounts of mana at a time.
Moving onto my next test, I pull out a carcass out from my Inventory. This is one of the last remaining monkiles, though my Inventory has kept it as fresh as when it was stored. Suddenly curious about whether my Inspect Fauna works on dead bodies, I cast it.
The answer to my question seems to be ‘kind of’.
Paranax
Tier 1 Beast (unevolved)
Dead
Unknown
Close message? Y/N
Actually, the information which isn’t present is just as interesting as the information that is. Apparently the Skill can identify the species and tier of the beast even with it being dead. However, it doesn’t give me any information about the function of the species or its strengths or weaknesses. That it doesn’t indicate how much Willpower I should have to Dominate it is unsurprising: Dominate doesn’t work on the dead. Or, at least, I doubt it does given everything I’ve discovered about it so far. I haven’t actually checked, though.
Just wanting to be thorough, I turn the monkile – Paranax – corpse so that I’m meeting its sightless gaze with my own. Muttering ‘Dominate’, I’m completely unsurprised when nothing happens. But good to know that that’s a feature: for all I knew, Dominate could be used as a necromancer’s tool if the target was already dead.
Returning to the notification with information about the Paranax, I tap at my lip in thought as I scan it again. How did the Skill know the name of the species? I get how it would know about the Tier level – if the creature is in Tier two, it probably has a Core. And who knows what other physical changes are made when moving from Tier two to Tier three? So a scan that can identify such information is somewhat expected.
The species name is something else. To me, that indicates that there must be some sort of ‘database’ somewhere with all these names in, and Inspect somehow has access to it. But then that raises the question about the language. It’s not English, that’s for sure. Pylobus had a latinate sense to it, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t actually Latin.
So then is it in the language of Nicholas’ world? That would make sense in that the stones I received were from him, and it’s clear that I’ve gained the ability to speak his language. Either that or the memories downloaded into my mind have been translated automatically into English. At least, I’ve never had any problems understanding them, even though it’s just as clear that they do not speak or write in a way that I’m familiar with.
The problem I have with that theory is that this is not Nicholas’ world, so how would a System using a database from Nicholas’ world be able to identify creatures on this one? Unless the animals were the same, of course, and the Skill was drawing from the same ‘database’ as would be found on Nicholas’ world. That’s, of course, assuming that the Skill would even be able to use the database this distance away from its source – unless, of course, it’s contained within the Skill itself.
The problem with that is that the continents on Earth showed just how differently creatures could develop once they were no longer interacting and interbreeding on a regular basis. I find it highly unlikely that this world and Nicholas’ have the same animals on it.
So how does it work? If it gave them the names I’d been giving them mentally, that would be one thing – pulling from my conscious mind would make sense. Heck, calling the pylobuses ‘dinner-plate beetles’ or something would be fine too: it would have been obviously drawing on my own subconscious. But as it is, I’d have never called them ‘pylobuses’. So where did the name come from?
Or am I overthinking this: is there just some sort of random-generator built into the Skill where if it has no information to draw on, it just makes something up? Perhaps, though that then raises the question about if there was another person with Inspect Fauna here: would they get the same name as I have?
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
In the end, I have to shake my head and move on. There isn’t another person to compare results with, so I’ll just have to live with my curiosity until I get to Nicholas’ world. Though, I suddenly am struck with inspiration, perhaps Kalanthia would have an idea. After all, she has her own names for each of my Bound.
And that raises another point. When I Inspected my Bound, their species names came up as ‘lizardfolk, raptorcat, lizog, and bird’. Why were they drawn from my mind where all these other creatures are not? Is that another way the Bond has influenced things?
I shake my head again. I have already spent too much time musing on this while staring blankly at the carcass of the paranax in front of me. Placing a finger on the paranax’s corpse, I send mana down my mana channels in the familiar process. Following the flow of mana with my mind, I’m now able to keep it channelling towards my finger while I’m still within my own Core space. I haven’t yet got to the point where I can channel it while my mind is in another’s body, but I reckon I should be able to get there sooner rather than later with how things are going.
Reaching the barrier of my skin, I start pushing mana into the corpse. Suddenly, it feels like a vacuum has opened up on the other side as it begins dragging my mana in. While the pull is not as strong as that of the Pure Energy I once had trapped in my hand, the feeling is similar enough that I immediately flinch back, cutting the flow.
I open my eyes and stare at the corpse warily. What just happened? I wonder.
Nothing has happened to the corpse itself. It hasn’t changed colour, twitched, opened its eyes, or suddenly lunged for my throat. Fortunately. Should I continue? I question myself. Breathing slowly in and out, my heart slows down from its suddenly frantic beat: the last time I had something latch onto my mana and drag at it, I almost died. I’m not surprised that the trauma of that experience hasn’t completely left me.
But maybe there’s an explanation for it. After all, I’d already noted that healing the small cut on the bisonisan took several times the amount of mana required to heal a more serious injury on Bastet. Could this be linked to how the amount of Energy that could be gained from a corpse dropped significantly after an hour, and was wiped out completely by my Inventory?
If it is that, I say to myself, then adding more mana into the body should make a difference. Though I’m a little hesitant to reestablish contact, since I was so easily able to cut the connection – not like with the Pure Energy – I decide that it’s worth a try.
Putting my finger to the same spot on the paranax’s body, I cautiously establish the connection. Once more there’s a hungry drag on my mana, but I quickly realise that I’m in complete control of it. Not like with the Pure Energy where it pulled my resources from me like a reeling machine would a rope, but more like a fish trying to pull on a line. While I’m not trying to reel it in as I would if I was fishing, I am able to control the flow of my mana, as well as still feel my mana in the body I’m touching.
Though I’m not really able to control my mana in the other body, I’m able to feel that it’s…saturating the corpse, spreading out like dye in cloth. As for my mind, I’m not able to shift into the other body – yet. Unlike with the tree, I have the distinct impression that I will be able to move into the other body, probably when it’s sufficiently saturated with mana. But that’s likely to take some time: I’m getting low on mana and haven’t yet sufficiently saturated even the area below my finger.
Pulling out of my Core space as soon as I hit ten mana units remaining, I sigh. This is going to take a while. Oh well – perhaps I’ll level up in Meditation again before too long. If it gives me another set of increases to my mana regeneration, it’ll be worth the time and effort spent now.
When my mana is fully replenished, I start the process again, emptying my mana pool again and again. Each time I empty my pool, nausea and a headache hit me, but, interestingly, over time, the effects seem to lessen with repetition. On the fifteenth time that I empty my mana pool to almost nothing and start meditating to regenerate it more quickly, I feel the sense of a nagging notification.
Wondering if I’ve ranked up Meditation or something, I interrupt my regeneration to check it out.
Achievement awarded: Masochist.
The ill effects which happen when the mana inside your Core runs low are generally heeded as indications that you should not empty your Core so thoroughly. You, however, have shown a disturbing tendency to continually ignore your body’s warnings. Fortunately for you, your Core has been strengthened by the stress you have put it under rather than damaged. As a result, it has become proportionately more able to hold mana. You can hold an additional 5 units of mana per point in Intelligence.
Close messages? Y/N
A burgeoning smile at the appearance of an achievement is checked by the rather snarky message below. Then as I actually see what benefits the achievement has awarded, my smile grows to stretch across my face. I quickly pull up my status screen and fist-pump the air as I see the results. Thirty-six points in Intelligence now counting for fifteen units each means that, instead of three hundred and sixty units of mana, I now have a cool five hundred and forty units available.
Not bad, I think with gleeful pleasure, rather glad that I didn’t realise the risks of emptying my mana pool so many times in a row. At least, I’m glad now that it’s turned out fine – I wouldn’t have been too pleased if I’d fractured my Core again, though at least now I know what to do about it. Though it does set me to wondering why it stresses my Core to be emptied so many times in a row, and also why strengthening my Core has had the result of giving me more mana units to work with. Not to mention whether I can repeat the effects, or do something similar for my health and stamina points….
My hopeful reverie is abruptly interrupted by the feeling of drops falling on my head. My mind automatically leaping to something standing above me and drooling, I look up, preparing to roll away at a moment’s notice.