I can't say how it felt to have so much going on inside my body all at once, but having the implants activated made me feel like a superhero. I could feel everything inside me. My organs, my muscles, everything was obvious.
My perception of the room expanded too. My eyes may have been seeing only white, but I knew where everything was in the room. Mary leant back in her chair while I hung limply in mine.
I felt so weak and so strong at the same time. But only for a second. Before I knew it, my world was darkness again.
----------------------------------------
I wake up with a start, sitting bolt upright and nearly hitting my head on the ceiling above me.
I remember the sensation of having my implants activated, but almost as if it were a dream.
Michaels' head pops up next to the bed I'm sitting on, and I realise I'm sitting on the top bunk in a room full of bunk beds.
There are dozens of people in the room aside from me and Michael. All look to be in their twenties, and all are getting dressed and ready to fight.
I look down at myself, and under the thin blanket, I'm only wearing my soft green clothes.
Michael has been chatting to me for a few seconds, but I hadn't heard any of it, so I cut him off with a finger to his lips.
"Where are my things?"
Surprised, he steps aside and motions that my coat and scabbard with sword in are hanging next to the bed. The helmet hanging from the scabbard too. My boots immediately below them.
"Good."
I jump down from the bunk and start to dress myself. Michael still has to help me with the scabbard straps as I'm not used to the weight. He tells me that unsheathing the sword in communal areas like this is banned, and punishable by a public whipping.
It seems that while we may not be the most disciplined group, there is still a carrot and a stick to directing our actions.
He also mentions that wearing the helmet is another offence, though one punished by a mere cut in pay. The way he talks about the helmet, I don't question why. What I do question is my apparent teleportation from the office to the bunk.
"How did I get here?"
"You were burned out after the activation. I forgot you have a low body stat. The second lieutenant asked me to bring you back to the bunk and I put you up there. You slept all night too."
Though part of me is wary that he was responsible for me for several hours while I was out, I have to trust that he didn't do anything unsavoury. It wouldn't do to accuse him of something for no real reason.
"So what do we do now?"
Michael grins at me, obviously looking forward to whatever it is.
"Breakfast."
----------------------------------------
Michaels enthusiasm was rather unfounded as breakfast turns out to be basic. A simple grain in a milky brown liquid with a side of water.
Despite the odd colours, it's a pleasant enough experience. Michael practically inhales his food, obviously a bigger fan of the meal than the average person. I do too, as I literally have no food in my body. I end up competing with Michael as to who could eat more, and he wins by a landslide. Our performance earns a scattering of laughs which raises my mood. Everyone was looking far too sad around me for my liking.
After the weird breakfast, the thousand or so people are lined up by some higher-ups in order of number for a briefing.
I'm placed far away from Michael and suddenly lose some of my confidence. Something about him made him so much more approachable than everyone else around me.
I ignore the surrounding mercenaries though and pay attention to the familiar Mary Scott as she gives us our orders.
"Ok, divisions sixteen to twenty. Today, you're fighting on the north-eastern front. As usual, your target is number suppression. Kill, and do not die."
There's a ripple of unrest among the lines.
"Do not fear, the wraith lords and dead Thralls are retreating to the east. Your highest threats are basic undead foot soldiers above level fifteen and zombies around level twenty. Luckily, most of you can handle them one-on-one, so don't get swarmed. Briefing over."
It was quick and concise. I'm still not sure what exactly my goal is on the field aside from surviving, but I'm getting closer at least.
After the briefing, we're led into long metal corridors and walk along them in line for several minutes. As a whole, we're silent, and I lose interest in the fairly mundane surroundings in favour of my status.
I spend my time figuring out my mind perks.
10 base Mind reached. Rank 1 mind perks unlocked. Available perks: (1) Big spells (increase max mana by 10%)
Fast spells (increase mana regen by 5%)
25 base Mind reached. Rank 2 mind perks unlocked. Available perks: (1) Bigger spells (increase max mana by 10%)
Faster spells (increase mana regen by 5%)
Hard spells (increase spell effectiveness by 5%)
50 base Mind reached. Rank 3 mind perks unlocked. Available perks: (2) Mana manipulation (increase manipulation proficiency by 20%)
*soulful spells (10% of soul stat is added towards mana)*
-requirement: have soul stat at least five times higher than mana.
Harder spells (increase spell effectiveness by 10%)
75 base Mind reached. Rank 4 mind perks unlocked. Available perks: (2) *Shapeless magic ( ability to release mana from your body for slight attack and defence use)*
-requirement: have no spells.
Sharp mind (offensive spells do 15% more damage)
Hard mind (defensive spells prevent 15% more damage)
Its easy enough to choose the first two ranks worth of mind perks. I supposedly already have an incredibly high regeneration rate for my mana, so I choose the perks to increase my limit.
In the third rank, I choose the soulful spells perk. The star and written requirement I met suggests it's a special one. Especially since it would provide a stupidly large bonus to my mana stat.
As soon as I select it, a savage headache forms, but in response, I feel part of my back heat up. Before it becomes uncomfortable, the headache leaves and soon after, so does the heat.
Looking back at my status, my mana stat has made a ridiculous jump. The extra 61 mind from soul has almost doubled my mana pool when combined with the two previous perks.
When the rank three options don't disappear, I notice the 2 next to the available perks label has become a 1.
Must be what Michael meant by having multiple choices.
But choosing between the two remaining perks isn't easy either. I have no spells, so both perks are very useless. After a moment of fake deliberation, I select Mana Manipulation. Mainly because of the higher number it offers.
In terms of rank four, now that I know I have two choices, it's far easier. I pick shapeless magic immediately, and it appears under my spells list as the spells Hard, which I assume is for defence, and Sharp, which must be for attack.
I still have no idea how to use spells, but it's a start.
The final perk I can select is obviously Hard mind. With a body stat as low as mine, I have to be very careful about getting hurt. Or... getting not hurt.
I close the perks window and am merely reminded of my significantly higher soul stat. The perks for which must still be chosen.
I sigh dramatically earning a side glance from a female mercenary walking aside me. I try to look over and smile at her, possibly strike up a conversation, but she sneers at me and looks dead ahead again.
My anger flares slightly, but I keep myself cool. I don't know her, and chances are she'll be dead within the day.
I won't apologise to myself for such a savage thought. She's too stuck up to be passing up friends on a battlefield.
I take the distraction from my status fiddling to take a look around. At some point, we left the base and began walking away from the large building through a sparse forest. Everything looks earthen enough that I can take comfort from the nature surrounding me. If it weren't for the hundreds of people stomping through the dead brush, it would be a very pleasant place to spend my day.
I briefly question why we're supposedly walking to the fight, but going by Michaels story of where the army came from, it makes sense that we can walk. It even makes sense that it might have really only been a day since I arrived here if the base was within walking distance of the battlefield.
My nerves rise up in my stomach and I involuntarily remember flashes of the battle I saw. If we're so close to it, then how safe is the base?
I shake my head to rid myself of the bloody images and occupy myself again with my stats and perks. The list of available perks for soul is larger than I expected, almost intimidatingly so.
10 base Soul reached. Rank 1 soul perks unlocked. Available perks: (1) Moulded soul (allow species traits to become part of your soul)
25 base Soul reached. Rank 2 soul perks unlocked. Available perks: (1) Smart soul (increase experience gain from educational events by 25%)
Hunter soul (increase experience gain from killing monsters by 25%)
50 base Soul reached. Rank 3 soul perks unlocked. Available perks: (1) Lawful soul (increase experience gain from humanitarian effort by 20%)
Neutral soul (increase all experience gain by 5%)
Chaotic soul (increase experience gain from chaotic effort by 25%)
75 base Soul reached. Rank 4 soul perks unlocked. Available perks: (1) Ethereal soul (provides the ability to communicate with ghosts)
*Soul of Magic (magic soul)*
-requirements: have Soulful Spells offered
100 base Soul reached. Rank 5 soul perks unlocked. Available perks: (2) Strong Soul (reduce the chance of enemies soul related abilities from taking effect)
Monstrous Soul (steal the souls of more powerful monsters for a chance at their abilities)
Leaders Soul (weaker beings are compelled to follow your every word)
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Followers soul (follow the more powerful to gain some of their strength)
150 base Soul reached. Rank 6 soul perks unlocked. Available perks: (1) Hidden soul (your soul is hidden from those who might seek it, showing a weaker one in its place)
Path of the seeker (let your soul guide you to your destination)
200 base Soul reached. Rank 7 soul perks unlocked. Available perks: (2) Powerful soul (reduces the chance of enemies soul related abilities from taking effect)
Roaring soul (your anger is infused into your weapons for a 5% damage increase when angry)
Desperate soul (damage taken is reduced by 20% when below 5%)
Survivors soul (bonus soul stats gained from surviving against the odds)
300 base Soul reached. Rank 8 soul perks unlocked. Available perks: (1) *Alien Soul (those around you are less wary of your origins)*
-requirement: be not of this world.
Familiar soul (share 5% of your power with those bonded by blood)
Foreign soul (share 1% of your power with allied strangers)
400 base Soul reached. Rank 9 soul perks unlocked. Available perks: (1) Soul of the genius (increase superficial intelligence to appear smarter to those around you)
Soul of the fool (decrease superficial intelligence to appear stupider to those around you)
500 base Soul reached. Tier 10 soul perks unlocked. Available perks: (1) Wings (your soul has reached enough power to form wings that allow flight.)
I skim the list of available perks at each tier, noting that they generally affect either my experience gain or an aura of sorts. The perks appear to mostly change how people see me.
Except for the tier 10 perk. The only one given seems too good to be true.
I can't select a perk until I've expended my choices at previous tiers, so I find myself suddenly motivated to work through the list and get those wings.
The first tier is easy but disappointing. My racial trait, immortal doesn't seem to provide any benefits that I can see in my status, so nothing happens when I choose it.
Most of the tiers have easy choices. Where I've unlocked a special trait due to meeting requirements, I immediately select it. And for most of the others, I choose what I think will help me the most in the long run.
I end up choosing Hunter soul from tier 2, neutral soul from 3, and soul of Magic from 4. I'm hesitant to select soul of Magic due to the lack of description given, but it seems a better choice than the ability to talk to the dead.
From tier 5, I choose strong soul and monstrous soul. The perks give me the impression the soul is fragile, so the ability to resist damage is probably important.
I choose hidden soul from tier 6, and powerful soul and surviving soul from tier 7. Alien soul is the obvious choice from tier 8. The fewer people who ask where I'm from and who I have to lie to, the better.
I'm stumped briefly at tier 9. I have no idea which will help me more. By impulse alone, I select Soul of the fool. The only logic I could apply to it was the chance that people would be more willing to explain stuff to me.
"SOLDIERS! DON YOUR HELMETS!"
An order ripples down through the lines.
The sullen-looking mercenaries around me bust into action and with varying degrees of efficiency, unhook their helmets and put them on.
I do the same, and as soon as the chin strap is firmly secured, a jolt goes down my spine strong enough to make me lose my bearings temporarily.
I'm suddenly aware of the area around me. Like I've memorized it and know what's there despite not being able to see any of it.
I close my eyes and the feeling remains. The people closest to me, I know what their faces look like. I can sense them breathing though I can't see or hear it happening.
The feeling that I felt back in Mary Scott's office resounds within me and I realise that my perception of my immediate area has been heightened to the point that I can never really be ambushed. I know that there are people all around me, and as we continue to walk on, I can sense how they move.
"ALL READY! CONTACT IN VISIBLE RANGE!"
I look over the shoulders of the people in front of me, but I can't see anything beyond where the trees end.
Those ahead begin to draw their swords, and even though I'm not over my sharply heightened senses, I draw my own.
The almost familiar buzzing power I can feel through the hilt causes excitement to bubble it's way up through the back of my throat. The prospect of this fight against undead using a sword is so surreal for me that I have to pinch myself through my coat to make sure im awake.
A nearby mercenary gives me a weird look but ultimately shrugs it off. I see several others doing fairly strange things like kissing several types of medallions or idols they hang around their necks.
I guess they have gods here too, just not the ones we had on earth.
I ignore the half-baked traditions of others and focus on the upcoming fight. The weight of my claymore only seems to increase and I switch to a more comfortable two-handed grip. I can't remember what it's called or the style it belongs too, but I was in Ireland when I learnt it. Sometime in the early 500's I think.
Wherever and wherever I learnt the specific style of swordplay it is irrelevant. The important thing is that it brings me confidence. Not a lot, but enough to keep walking.
A war cry erupts from the leaders of the lines and I can see them start to run, disrupting the formation.
I'm still stuck in a brisk walk and am still unable to see past the break in the trees. The sounds of shouting and swords clashing reach me and my grip tightens on my sword. Despite the sheer force of the power flowing between the weapon and me, I still feel weak and unprepared.
The opportunity for me to start running reaches me, and suddenly I'm being shoved forwards by those behind me. Taken by surprise, I manage to steady myself but ensure that I close my status. I can't afford to be distracted anymore.
A hand grabs my arm, seemingly materialising before I can perceive it in my helmets radius.
So much for not being ambushed.
I turn, already knowing who it is and feel some relief.
"Ventra. You ok?"
He pulls me aside, behind a big tree, letting the others stream around it.
"Yeah. I'm... I'm good. Just nervous, you know?"
In truth, my heart is pumping louder in my chest than ever before. It's like this every time I charge into a fight. I know that as soon as I claim my first kill, I'll be able to fight fine. It's the getting there in the first place that's difficult.
"Look, you're a veteran. There's no other way to explain your power. And if your strongest stat is soul, then you probably used to worship Senca."
I'm clueless again, and he must be able to easily see it.
He still has a hold on my arm despite my drawn sword and shakes me hard enough for me to focus on the here and now instead of my past battles.
"Look, the gods we follow; they're strong. They can help us. She will guide you to victory. Remember her name. And follow me."
I nod, looking more determined than I feel. The idea that a god will help me is nothing to the sense of security Michael gives me. He's a veteran of sorts here and is willing to help me.
He charges ahead of me, making a path for me to follow.
All at once, we're free of the forest and enter upon an area of grassland that I recognise from my introduction to the world.
The black coats of fellow mercenaries surround me, but just ahead, I can see where the helmeted heads stop. Most of those eager to fight are pressed for space, so swarm outwards to get at the front lines.
Blades catch the light ahead of me and I can hear the sound of shattering and cries of pain above the clashing of metal.
Michael slows to a stop and turns to me. He points to his left and I follow the direction to where a haze of grey mist is pushing forwards from behind the enemy lines towards ours. It's unlikely to hit us, but Michael still shows concern.
"That's an undead thrall. The report was false. I'm going after it. It'll tear this division apart otherwise. Will you come with me?"
He's so serious that I can't stand to say no. If he needs me, and this is where I can help the most, I have to accept.
"I will. But what can I expect?"
He starts to talk as he carefully jogs parallel to the front line. I notice he hasn't drawn his sword yet, so I almost sheepishly put mine back on my back then follow him.
"Undead thralls are spellcasters that were reanimated by Wraith lords. They act as servants to them. And honestly, they're one of the worst things on this field. That mist is foul smelling. Try not to breathe it too much. They use mostly magic, but if the user was a Mana Eater or something similar in life, they'll have some body enchantments that make them faster and stronger. Aim for its hands before you go for the neck. If it can cast, you're in trouble."
"Ok!"
I have to shout to be heard. The fighting is more intense the closer we get to the thralls. Arrows have begun to fly towards the advancing mercenaries. I try to dodge them at first by leaping away where I can see them, but once I get hit in the side, it's obvious how strong the coat is.
Arrows occasionally pepper me, but the helmet and coat provide enough shelter that the dull impacts quickly become nothing more than an annoyance.
We reach the area that Michael predicts the thrall will hit. Other must have known what was coming too, as there are much fewer people fighting here. Fewer skeletons too.
The grey mist advances like an arc, and cuts off the dozen or so still standing here. Michael and I included.
"And now, we wait for it to attack. Clear breath. Ventra, try to breathe through your mouth."
I look over to Michael who has drawn his sword. There's a light blue haze over his mouth.
He activated a skill, that asshole.
The mist hits us and I vomit almost immediately despite the warning. The scent of death and decay is too much for me and my half-digested breakfast ends up on the churned up grass.
Michael is looking apologetically at me when another man runs up to him and slaps him on the shoulder.
"Hey! Mikey! You challenging the big fry? And who's this?"
The new arrival also has the blue haze that apparently prevents the smell from reaching him. He looks older than Michael. Maybe in his late twenties. But he acts younger. He acts like this is a game. Maybe it is for him.
"Adam, this is Ventra. She's a recent unknown. I got her off the battlefield yesterday."
The so-called Adam lifts my face with his finger and puts his thumb over my lips. My abdominals are racked with pain from vomiting causing me to stoop, and there's drool down my chin. He appears unphased though.
"Ventra, huh? Pretty name. Pretty face. Send effect. Clear breath."
A cold wind passes through my lips and suddenly I can no longer taste death in my throat.
I take several gasping breaths and Adam laughs.
"Is this your first fight? Should you be- Mikey, should she be fighting a thrall?"
I draw my sword and look out into the mist.
"Thanks for the air. I've fought plenty, by the way. But I got hit in the head hard enough to lose my memories."
Adam sucks in air through his teeth and draws his sword too.
"I heard. That sucks. I'm Adam by the way. Spellsword. If you ever want to talk, I'm staying in barracks block 18."
I ignore the badly hidden proposition but smile slightly when I hear Michael kick him.
"Not the time you idiot. The tanks are ready, so we should be too."
There are nine mercenaries ahead of us in a wide arc. They all have their swords drawn and all have some sort of barrier up in anticipation.
Adam gives a knowing laugh.
"They're more than we need for one undead thrall. We both know we just want the XP. There's no need to be so-"
A cry of pain reaches us and we all look to the line of tanks.
One is lying on his back with an arrow of black metal sticking out of his face. A space is left in the arc barrier where he has fallen.
"Oh, shi-"
In an instant, a similar arrow has appeared in the exposed left eye of the overconfident Adam.
"NO!"
Michael dives for me, pushing me down with one hand as he slashes at the air in front of me.
"Return!"
His sword shatters mid-slash but I see a black blur rush back into the mist.
From the tanks with their shields, I hear several repeated castings of spells all running along a similar theme of shielding.
"Shit. No. No..."
Michael is already on his knees and holding the jagged hilt of his sword over the obviously dead body of Adam.
"Michael..."
I start to talk to him but don't know what to say. I'm sure he's just lost a friend and similarly, lost his sword.
"Fuck."
Michael stabs the remains of his sword into the ground above Adams' head and puts his index finger to the front of his helmet.
"Permadeath."
He takes off Adams helmet and pulls the sword from his death grip. He clips the spare helmet to his back and watches sadly as Adams' head begins to smoulder and then two small explosions take place in his back and at the top of his spine.
I watch in horror at the damage the implants can cause. The implants I have in me.
Michael keeps staring at the body, but I force my attention to those shielding us.
No more have fallen, but I can see regular ripples spread across the large barrier from impacts of darkness. Occasionally they return fire and send out spears of ice, light or some other destructive force.
"Michael. We have to help them."
He looks at me with cold eyes.
"We can't help them. We're all dead."
"What? What do you mean? I thought you said this was just an undead thrall. I thought you could handle this."
He stood his head and picked up the black arrow that had previously been housed in Adams' face only to toss it way in disgust.
"This... This is from a Wraith Lord. There must be one in the mist. They tricked us."
"Well, we have to go get help, get more people, stronger-"
"NO!"
Tears are running down his face and he looks down, letting them fall into the dirt.
"If we go out into the thicker mist, we're going to be unprotected. We will die."
Panic rises. I had such a good start, it's not fair for me to die so easily to such an overpowered enemy without putting up a fight.
"Can't we shout for help?"
He stabs the sword into the ground, grabs me by the shoulders roughly and looks into my eyes.
"Can't you hear it?"
I hold my breath and listen.
Aside from the occasional cry of pain from one of the mercenaries trying to protect themselves and us, there's silence.
"Nothing."
"Exactly."
Michael lets go of me momentarily to take off his helmet and then he hugs me.
"Ventra, I know we don't know each other, but I've never met someone like you. somehow, you seem so impossibly strong, and yet... I want nothing more than to protect you. I'm so sorry I brought you here. I... I've killed us both."
he pushes his lips against my own, and I'm too stunned to even attempt to stop him. not that I want to. as much as he needs to not die alone, I need this for a much bigger reason. Heck, I like the guy.
My heart beats fast, feeling rather than fearing.
I push Michael back, his saddened expression saying it all when he sees the fury on my own. But he misunderstands. I'm not angry at him. I'm angry at me. Every time I hesitate, I hate myself a little bit more. Every time I've given into my own fear, I've never forgiven myself.
I pick up the sword lodged in the ground at his feet.
There is no rush of power like when I hold my own sword, but I can still feel it responding to me.
With my soul attuned sword in my right hand and Adams in my left, I take off in a jog towards the line of Magic users.
More of them have fallen. Too many. Only two stand defiant, holding their shields to protect me and Michael. They don't notice me approach so are mildly shocked when I appear between them.
"Where's the Wraith Lord? Or the Thrall. Either one."
After taking too long to register what I intend to do, one of them finally points in a direction slightly to his right. His face is gaunt, he has accepted his fate apparently.
I nod to him with a sweet smile.
"Hold on for just another minute or two. I need you to keep him safe."
I look back at where I left Michael. He's fallen to his knees and is staring at me.
I smile slightly. I must appear insane to him.
But I'll fight. Because I'm a warrior.