Ambrose lay in the small traces of still lingering smoke while trying to catch his breath, despite the level ups filling his body with energy, he was still bleeding rather profusely from the deep claw wounds in his abdomen. He was aware of an insistent new type of notification pressing against his entire being, wanting to be read now that he was out of combat, pulsing gold just outside his vision.
He couldn’t open it yet, he had tried but it refused to appear, it was still insisting that he open it though. The solution was obvious, you broke through at level ten, he was still technically level eight.
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CONGRATULATIONS OUTWORLDER, YOU HAVE REACHED LEVEL 9
3 Attribute points have been gained.
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CONGRATULATIONS OUTWORLDER, YOU HAVE REACHED LEVEL 10
3 Attribute points have been gained.
You have reached the first barrier and are ready to break through. It is time to tell the system who you are.
Define yourself.
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He had intended to clear up his Skill notifications before beginning the process, feeling that some new Skill had broken through at some point during his raid, but the golden pane of glass was far too eager, and pulled him into darkness.
Ambrose found himself floating in a void, he could feel his wounds still but they felt hollow and lacking in pain, as if they were merely makeup pasted against his form, pretending to be the real thing.
He was stuck in the void for what was moments and forever, as something out of sight pressed against his mind, body, and soul. Weighing, measuring. Slowly, threads of light began to be pulled out of Ambrose by this entity, most were thin and flickering, ill defined against the nothing that surrounded him.
Each strand reached into the distance, each stretching out several feet though some made it further than others. As they tried to stretch further they all eventually hit a limit, and detached, floating away from Ambrose and almost began to dissipate. Once detached these strings stopped reaching further, floating a small distance from Ambrose.. There were three different groups of threads, the majority were wisp-like each reminiscent of the smoke that had just been surrounding him. The second group was better defined and a slightly different colour but yet remained inconsistent, flickering as if they could wink out of existence at any moment. Only the final group, consisting of only two short strings remained properly connected to Ambrose, each a solid but thin string leading into his body. Ambrose turned, the ethereal strings remaining fixed in space, gently waving in a non-existent breeze.
Ambrose reached out for one of the strings that flickered with a faint light, his hand only wrapping around the thin thread while he focused on doing so, fading through his grasp as he lost concentration when the sensation of him running for his life gently poured through his body, seeping out and away when he lost hold of the thread.
If each thread is one of my Skills, then what are you? Ambrose’s attention faced the only two threads that appeared solid, he knew one to be Cruelty, but the second was the new Skill he hadn't been able to check before coming here. He reached down and grabbed a hold of one at random, the sensation of horrified curiosity at the still fighting Dungeonese Sheep drifted in. The satisfaction he had felt as the Loobins dropped after their cores were punctured, and the joy and release of beating the Ousted King to death with his own crown followed shortly after, definitely Cruelty.
Dropping the thread, feeling almost remorseful at his lack of disgust, Ambrose hesitantly reached out for the second. The remorse fled as new emotions were pulled in, a laugh escaped his lips accidentally as the euphoria of throwing himself against impossible odds, fully aware that death was the likely outcome filled him, a name whispered itself in his mind, Madness.
The feeling left as he released the thread. He was conflicted, it was true that he had enjoyed putting his life on the line, but was it really madness to do so? Sure, he couldn’t actually be sure he would come back again, but so what if he didn’t. No longer constantly afflicted by emotional damage from his own brain had made Ambrose more confident in himself, but he still didn’t really have anything to live for on this world, other than to simply live, and he still didn’t know if he wanted to do that, trapped under the thumb of some asshole god where doing what he had to just to survive furthered some agenda that Ambrose wasn’t privy to.
Ambrose dropped his disgruntled musings for now, he had to do something in order to leave this space. He ran his hands through his black and silver hair considering the space around him, trying to confirm his decision once more, he knew that he would get a chance to change soon enough but had been warned that all your breakthroughs stuck with you somehow, making all of them important in some way the Enrick's couldn't tell him. He ran his hands over each of the threads, gaining small bursts of feelings and memories flowing into his body as he identified what each thread represented.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Deciding to stick with his original plan as he didn't yet have the Skills to build his backup plan, Ambrose focused on his Running Skill, it was largely the one he actually got the most use out of, so making it a part of who he was made sense. He wasn’t sure what to actually do with the thread though, only knowing that for now he would need at least three to succeed in the breakthrough and escape this place.
Ambrose tried several different things, he tried pulling the thread into him, he tried tying it to another thread, multiple other ideas came and went, each time the thread would just revert to its place as soon as he released it.
The only difference was when he had pulled the Running Skill and the Small Blade Skill threads together to try and tie them together into a rope. He had experienced a modified version of the feelings and memories from both Skills at once, as if they were trying to meld into one.
With all simpler ideas out of the way, Ambrose began to collect each of the threads he had identified as the primary ones that he both cared about and were important to surviving and growing. Running, Small Blades, and Perception were all currently in his grasp, the memories and feelings were building up at this point. He had reached the minimum to truly break through and define himself but nothing seemed to be changing in his surroundings, perhaps he needed more than three?
He reached for Dodging next, adding it to the growing bundle, the pressure was building and began to become painful, like an annoying headache throughout his whole body, slowly throbbing away. When still nothing had changed he pushed on, grabbing his Stealth Skill.
Nothing would give, Ambrose was told to take the Skills that mattered and if he needed more to pick things similar. Beginning to worry as the pain grew, Observation joined the bundle, then Tumbling. Pain Resistance and Speech followed while he remained in the empty space, the pain only grew more intense with each Skill, memories of his death returned as the pain of his whole self being pulled apart pulled the memories to the forefront, but still the void held him there.
“What do you want? This is what I choose, these are the Skills that I want.” Ambrose screamed into the void but the void didn’t respond, only the final pane of glass that had brought him into the space filled his thoughts as he was forced to release the threads, hoping that the pain would stop before it would tear him apart.
The pain receded but did not cease, returning to the whole body throbbing instead, only noticeable while paying it attention. He waited and waited but the pain never faded further, always just slightly hidden. The words he had read rang out in his mind now with every faint throb.
It is time to tell the system who you are.
Define yourself.
Over and over again, the phrase beat itself against the Outworlder. Ambrose could not remain here forever, he felt the void surrounding him begin to crumble, slowly dissipating as the edges of the infinite void somehow crumbled into a new form of nothing that his mind could not properly pass. The pain slowly regaining strength with each pulse.
He wouldn’t be able to reach as far this time, but he started his gathering of threads once more. As he reached the three he had been told would be enough, the pain was beginning to cloud his judgement once more, but Ambrose wasn’t satisfied with minimums, he could have taken nine Skills if he had known what he was doing, he wasn't settling with a third that number.
Making it back to five once more he was sitting just below the safe limit. He was exhausted from the effort and was breathing heavily in the space he found himself in, which he was becoming more and more confident was his soul, he nervously glanced at the crumbling edges in the distance.
As the message had pushed itself against him, it had imparted a clearer idea of what he had to do, though Ambrose wasn't sure if it was just his mind playing tricks on him and could only hope he was correct. “I am Ambrose Edward Rogers, and I don’t know what I want yet, but I will fight to survive.” As he spoke the area around him began to glow, something inside him felt lacking though, disappointed at him taking the safe path out. The strings in his hands began to fuse where he was holding them, their remaining lengths becoming more solid as they began to curl inwards, changing into a different shape.
The edges of the space slowed their crumbling as they began to shift. As he felt the space around him begin to change and solidify into something new, the threads in his hands stretched out to the edges and began to bend and shape the space into something new. Ambrose knew that what he had said wasn't the truth, at least not the full truth, he knew now he didn't want the safe space that was building itself around him.
He leaned into his new Skill and did something that felt awfully suicidal as he fought against the pain and his very soul as the space around him began to stabilise into the shape of a cabin, the strings around him that he hadn't chosen began to float further away as they formed into new shapes that couldn't yet be made out. Ambrose reached out grabbing Madness with one hand before it could change and forcing it into the bundle of strings in his hands, bending the already fused parts around the thread to trap it inside as they fought to reject the intruder.
“And I don’t give a shit if I die, as long as I get to fuck over those who wronged me as I go.” Ambrose screamed at the shifting void as it fought back, trying to spit out the Skill as the threads tried to form a stable space.
Ambrose’s body was being torn apart as the cabin began crumbling, as something tore it apart from the outside. Ambrose held on for all he was worth, as his surroundings faded out, until all that was left was pain.
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Ithara felt a miniscule ripple through her domain, one of many that occurred at any given time, such an insignificant thing wasn’t worth her notice though as she dismissed it, allowing it through without sparing it a single thought.
The tiniest drop of power went out through her connection to this ripple. When the drop didn’t return as the ripple passed through she spared it a thought and considered paying attention to it, but she was far too busy, sometimes these transactions simply took longer. It was only as a second drop of power was pulled out of her and tried to join with the ripple that she moved her focus. It was only for a fraction of a second, and only a small portion of her attention went with it, but when she found what was happening a small smile found its way to her lips.
“Hm, greedy little thing. I accept.” With her acquiescence, the drop of power left her domain, chasing after the ripple, both of them returned after a moment more, forever changed.