I could feel the abilities I had sacrificed. They were not gone, but nor could I access them. I could feel them as burning lines that twisted in my chest forming the scaffolding around a crystal sphere of scintillating light. It spun and twisted, constantly changing color and shape as multitudes of imperfections appeared on its surface only to be ironed flat moments later. It was like a living sun, constantly expanding and changing.

Was this the power of Madness? To constantly change and reinvent oneself? Perhaps that was madness, and yet it was saner than stagnation — we now lived in a world that offered only adaptation or death.

The crystal orb represented my class. I needed no explanation, it was a part of me and I recognized it. It reacted to my acknowledgment with cords of energy that flowed through the sphere and burst into bright flares on the surface.

It called out to me and I could see its desire to grow stronger and larger. It would improve as I did, though there was little difference between us The class was me, or at least the parts of me with strength. Each of my skills and feats swam within its fiery light. No longer were they bound tightly together but spread out in long lines of runes and hieroglyphs that floated freely around the sphere.

Those thin chains of symbols seemed almost insignificant. Perhaps one day they would grow large and plentiful enough to cover the surface of the orb, but for now, they covered only a fraction of a percent.

It was impressive to look at, but what practical benefits had I gained? I opened my status screen with a thought and held a breath as it flickered into static. Slowly the static took on the familiar blue glow as lines of alien text appeared before me.

“Well, shit.”

What do I do now? I stared at the screen for several seconds. I could see where my stats were lined up, yet I couldn’t decipher the numbers, nor the long string of symbols that took the place of my feats. I sighed, slamming my fists into the hood I was still laying on. The status screen closed.

I flexed my limbs experimentally as I sat up. I was still sore, and my ankle was clearly broken but I could feel the mana flowing through my body and the static-like feeling of eldritch as it moved through the air.

On a whim, I opened my stats one more time. I might not be able to understand the numbers, but stamina and mana were also represented as bars and I had access to a readout that overlaid my injuries onto an outline of a human form. I could at least evaluate how badly I was hurt.

As the screen opened once more I was greeted by the alien text. Just as I was sighing in frustration, the lines began to twist and form into familiar words. Was it as easy as turning it on and off, or had the system read my desire to change the language? I really had to read that manual at some point.

Not today, I thought. Now to find out the good stuff.

During the battle I had gained skill levels at an incredible rate, even picking up new ones. Something about mortal danger, or perhaps the saturation of eldritch energy in the air, caused skills to level more quickly in combat than they did during training.

I’d gained a single point in both Staff Fighting and Defense as well as Pain Tolerance, Arcane Missiles, and Dodge. Even more impressive were the two new skills I had gained, Chain Fighting and Combat Proficiency – each already at the third level.

The true gains had come in the form of a new category – Class Features. In return for the three feats and two skills I had sacrificed, I had received four new abilities: a net loss of one. After reading the class description, however, I realized that it really hadn’t been a loss at all.

Each class feature was far more powerful than what I had given up, the only thing I really mourned was the lifesaving abilities of Reactive Adaptability.

My Perception and Focus had each been increased by three and would continue to increase by one with each new level I gained. Almost as useful, was the increase of five to physical and magical resistances, as well as to a new category — Mental Resistance.

I began to look through the class features more closely, but a blood-curdling wail brought me to my senses. I had forgotten where I was in my excitement. Categorizing my abilities would have to wait until my friends were safe.

The problem was that no matter how powerful I felt, it was meaningless If I couldn’t even stand under my own power. My ankle was shattered, and even if I had been able to grit through the pain, it was incapable of supporting my weight.

The first of my new class features, however, gave me hope for a solution. It couldn’t heal the ankle, but it could bind it and reinforce it like a plaster cast. I wouldn’t be graceful, but I could walk with the assistance of my staff. I glanced at the description one more time before deciding what to do.

Eldritch Mimicry (0/15) Ⓐ- The energy of the Old Ones is now yours to command. No longer does it struggle at your touch. It dances in delight as it bends to your whims, taking on any shape that you can imagine – but only for as long as you can hold a clear picture of that form in your mind. This ability can mimic weapons, armor, and even the spells and forms of your allies and enemies. Anything created by this method will be a shadowy illusion of the truth. These shadow illusions are half as strong as the original (50%) plus an additional 2% per skill level.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

It was what eldritch manipulation could have been if taken to its ultimate conclusion. Theoretically, it could copy anything — even if that copy wasn’t as strong as the original. I would need practice to fully bring this ability into my fighting style, but for now, it was exactly what I needed.

At first, I found it difficult to create and focus on a unique design. Instead, I looked to my memories. Thin streams of energy appeared around my foot and shin, quickly weaving around them to create a shadowy outline — an exact replica, at least in shape, of the plaster cast I had worn as a child after I had broken my leg at summer camp.

Awe-inspiring cosmic power? I used it to create a crude brace around my ankle.

I stood slowly, still shaking as muscles that had been weakened by fatigue worked against pain and gravity. My legs buckled for a moment and I rolled from the car, my back striking the hard pavement as my limbs spread out around me. As I opened my eyes to look up I made eye contact with Rachel, her face was flush and covered in sweat and running mascara.

She had that weary glow of exhaustion that any athlete knows follows a hard-fought game. I realized that she was unable to sing anymore, and yet had still taken the time to check on me.

Her song had saved me, perhaps even saved whatever passed for my soul. Her skills had given strength to the others holding the bridge, prolonging all of our lives. No matter how strong the bridge guards had been, or what their level, they would fatigue eventually.

With Rachel unable to continue I felt that it was now on my shoulders to do something. It was possible that Tiller or Catayla would have a solution, but I needed to spread my new wings. Metaphorically anyway.

Could I? … not now, focus.

I wanted this battle in a way I didn’t fully understand. I needed it in the same way that I needed air to breathe. Something in my soul called out for conquest, and I felt twinges of approval flowing through my bond with the Fisher.

I slowly pulled myself back to my feet and began to carefully shuffle towards the barricade. Each step was agony, like molten nails being driving into the marrow of my bones, but my cast and staff were sufficient to support my weight. Only a few minutes prior I had casually leaped to the top of the barricade, but now I was forced to accept Rachel’s help just to climb up.

I felt embarrassed as she pulled me up the final few feet, but I quietly whispered “thank you,” into her ear. She had gotten me where I needed to be.

To my right stood Tiller, sparing only a casual glance and a nod in my direction before turning his attention – and revolver – back to the battle. Looking up I made out the form of Catayla lying prone on a support beam above the bridge, casually raining bullets upon the endlessly attacking masses. Her shots rang out in a constant beat, never missing or failing to kill their target.

Beneath me, spread out an army. They had pushed through the other barricades, shoving aside cars and boulders. The stone golem could no longer be seen, a pile of concrete and rebar stood as a testament to its demise. The man with the fire axe, the one who had pulled me from the giant ants, had retreated to the top of the barricade — his axe still striking at anything foolish enough to get to close.

It would be minutes before the defenders were overrun, perhaps sooner. I quickly reached out to the eldritch energy swarming above the battlefield. It leaped at my touch, eager to be shaped and molded into forms of murder. Despite the seemingly limitless shapes the energy could take, I had to be able to understand and clearly visualize what I wanted.

Complex machinery was out, as was anything I couldn’t clearly imagine and hold in my mind. Things from my memory were better, as my Intellect stat would help me to visualize them. There was also a limit to the amount of energy I could command at once, and I imagined that there would be some mental fatigue as well.

I searched through my memory for a form that was both simple and effective, something that I could form quickly and that would be easy to maintain. My mind quickly switched to memories of the old Civil War forts my father used to love bringing me to. Cannons were too complex, and I doubted I could make something like gunpowder — but after I dismissed that idea I remembered the old fortifications my father had helped construct before his yearly reenactments.

Simple wooden palisades made from sharpened logs lashed together with rope. I knew I could do something similar, it would be impossible to dig a trench, but I could anchor the wall of sharpened posts into the concrete and steel of the bridge itself.

I willed the construction into existence, forcing the image onto the thick eldritch energy permeating the battlefield. Thick, sharp logs made of black misty energy grew up in front of the barricade like wild brambles. Posts three to four meters long pointed upwards, angled toward the horde of monsters. It wouldn’t completely stop them, but it would slow them down and buy the group of defenders time.

I kept the image in my mind, focusing on the memories it was based on. I could feel a mental drain, but I could handle it. I could still form simple weapons, but it would be difficult to create anything as complex as a spell or further construction.

I began to rain down javelins made of the black and crimson eldritch energy. Each projectile would quickly dissolve into smoke as it impaled its target, freeing my mind to concentrate on creating more spears. It was effective but slow. It was relieving some of the pressure on the defenders, but it was not a permanent solution. I needed something bigger, something that could affect the entire horde at once.

Of my new Class Features, one stood out as being able to do so, but it was risky. I was hesitant to use such an unpredictable ability without first testing it in a more controlled environment. If I waited, however, I might not ever get that chance.

The skill seemed to be a double-edged sword, just as likely to cut me and my allies as it was to hinder my enemies.

Eye of Madness (0/10) Ⓛ- You have seen the terrifying truth of those that wait in the void. Your connection to the source of this maddening presence allows you to tear back the fabric of reality and see the hidden, terrifying truths that lie beneath. Overuse will burn this terror into your mind, risking your sanity — skill level and Focus will reduce this risk.

Alternate use: You can create an aura around yourself that shares this truth with your enemies, filling their minds with terror and possibly causing them to go berserk. You must confront the truth you share, but your allies will be spared – save those for whom you hold hidden malice.

Using the Class Feature’s ability to see the truth seemed dangerous, as an entire army of eldritch abominations was likely to overburden my mind, and my low skill level and Focus meant that I risked permanent madness. I gave that a hard pass, but the alternate use had some potential if the aura didn’t grow too large.

It would likely take me out of the fight, but it would also reduce the ability of the monsters to defend themselves and if they started going berserk and attacking their allies? Well, all the better.

I closed my eyes, and slowly released madness around me in a vortex of swirling energy that invaded the minds of all it touched.