We really just killed a bunch of fucking orcs? The bizarre reality of this night was so surreal yet vividly clear in his racing mind.
"What the–Ptuuhh" Kieran spat the last bits of vomit free. "–hell do we do now?"
Unsure if he had projectile vomited on the floor and dead orc due to the frantic fighting and adrenaline overload or the horrifically mutilated corpses he was now looming over, a small wave of nausea hit him.
"We-" The word caught in his mouth as his eyes locked onto the brain matter scattered about Darren's crumpled skull.
The urge to look away took over, he clenched his eyes to try and find some way out of the horrific sight surrounding him.
Tingling panic slithered into his veins once more. He coughed to clear the burning in his throat whilst his heart began to drum away in his chest, louder and louder.
"Fuck!" "I...I'm sorry dude!" Kieran's voice sounded full of pain and confusion, he didn't know what he could say to make things better. It was all his fault.
The raging of his heart grew relentless. A familiar sense of impending doom crawled over his mind like a dark blanket that could block out the faintest remainging shreds of hope.
He knew what was happening, he'd been there so many times before, as all the fear and panic he'd shoved to the side like a great boulder, came rushing back into his every thought to crush him wholly from the inside out. He wondered what grown man still experienced crippling panic attacks without having been through some great trauma like war or death. He felt the buzzing in his brain threatening him with hyperventilation.
"J-just!" He croaked between panting breaths. "Breathe..." he softly maintained the exhale, controlled despite the trembling in his throat, his whole body, and even in his mind.
Visualisation helped him imagine the breath was removing all his terror and worries, like little specks of darkness gone with every bit of air he exhaled. Then he brought in a fresh breeze of clarity, clean and ready to cleanse him of his own mind's failure to work correctly.
Each breath drew out slightly longer every time, already far from those short pulsing gasps he barely realised he had been struggling with.
Flowing air gently guided him back to himself. This wasn't his first panic attack that was for sure, but the violently magical circumstances he was currently in made it harder than usual to regain control of himself.
Slowly though, he reduced his breath until he regained almost complete control, and his heart eased off enough at least to let him remember what he needed to do next.
The guided words of meditation from an old and frail, yet ever so sweet, Dr Wesley–words that she no doubt stole off someone smarter–repeated as a mantra through his mind, echoing clearer than the day she first showed him how to calm his body and mind as one.
“Breathe deeply" she would guide him in their weekly therapy sessions.
Following the memory of the words, he closed his eyes ever so softly and pulled at the air with his stomach's full expansion, just as he had done so many times before.
He exhaled out the dark orbs of negativity he imagined clearly in his mind's eye.
"until sweet air extinguishes the burn of fear in your lungs"
With a deep but shallow and almost ambivalent self-focus, he inhaled fully.
"make every breath a beautiful refusal to become anything less than infinite”
An exhale, persistent yet soft. Controlled...
His heart rate slowed further as the last feeling of any kind of nausea cleared. Kieran discovered a marvellous comfort to be found in the words and mantras she once repeated casually to him, the poetic guidance summoned a semblance of inner strength within him whenever he was in a mentally fragile state. He considered that meditation on the most crucial function of something like breathwork just perfectly fit his neurochemistry, or was the correct medication for his vague mental ailment.
Each new breath he took truly denied him being anything less than infinite in his mind…he felt the gentle whispers of inner peace soothe any lingering distress and the blood-stained carnage around him faded from existence.
All that was left, was him at one with the glorious air that cleansed him methodically, always happy to return again in a peaceful repetition.
This wasn't just the tranquil feeling of a beautiful sunny day that he bathed in, nor that of calm shores and beaches. This peace is the kind that comes only after surviving something that makes you question your brief life, your very existence. From sitting in the aftermath of what nearly claimed your one lucky chance at life and knowing you had earned the respite of tranquility regardless of any external influence or opinion.
Kieran sensed that foreign comforting warmth once more radiate more intensely through his body with every steady lungful of air.
This time he allowed himself to breathe even slower still, mentally embracing each singular moment and willing it to last longer, to escape into the infinite, where all his troubles and fears became so small they practically ceased to exist.
unfocused eyes opened gently at a thought In the silence, a strange feeling upon his face, a sensation he knew from… somewhere. Slowly, his vision cleared to welcome the soft glow of torches that no longer harmed his eyes. His nearly empty mind marveled at how he could even feel the two closest torch flames' soothing warmth from meters away on the floor.
Hold up…that’s not the heat, it's too far away, what is this feeling?
The gentle curiosity was unable to shake his new calm as he dialed his focus to the vague touch of something permeating the air around him.
Kieran kept breathing deeper than before, trying to smell or taste something different, maybe even the strange source of his uncertainty.
Each exhale only left him eager for more. He felt his body still like a statue in a breeze and yet it hummed to the core. Clarity returned to his mind and thoughts–the double concussion and adrenaline dump had apparently done more harm than he realised.
Beleaguered breaths were now a thing of the past as any sense of fatigue was effortlessly eroded by calming waves of warm energy. The tingling feeling worked its way through his body and flooded out to the very tips of his fingers and toes, burning away negative emotions and even the small stabbing aches of physical pain.
A torch tissed as it got snuffed somehwere to his side, puddles of blood eventually overwhelmed the heat of the flames, smothering the light beside Darren's unmoved lifeless body and drawing Kieran's attention.
He steeled himself as the tranquility passed, the return to full awareness slowly left him teetering on the edge of something he could still feel thrumming inside his body. Annoyingly he lost his grasp on the trancelike state. He shook out his limbs they didnt feel too bad and he was ready to get moving again now that his body felt considerably refreshed from a short but very effective breather.
Kneeling back down he wiped each side of his messy weapon across the leather boots of the orc at his feet. Fortunately for him, they were miraculously spared from Kieran's previous stomach evacuation and still suitable for at least this much. The known wrongness of killing something had been thankfully outmatched by his frantic desire to move away from the awful smell his alcoholic vomit was brewing in the air as it mixed with the scents of the orc and its own sickening fragrance.
With a regretful sigh, Kieran approached his fellow human’s lifeless yet still-warm body. He knelt down on the only dry patch of gritty rock beside Darren's ruined form and reaching out a gentle hand, pat the man on the shoulder in respect.
“Rest in piece dude, you were an asshole, but you were a brave asshole for sure”
Everything above his neck was strewn across the floor in a mash of grey matter, bone, and blood. The exposed skin on the man's neck was cold too the touch, yet Kieran's hand felt a warmth?
When he pulled back his palm it came away with smears of blood on it from the awful and fatal wound, only, this blood wasn't dark and murky like he imagined dead blood should be. Tnstead, the liquid shone with an eerily vibrant red that shimmered reflectively in the weak light.
Kieran stared at the weird discrepancy before him, confused as to what it really is that seemed off about this blood, but more puzzling was the growing sensation the glistening blood left on the back off his hand.
Why does it feel so– He froze, realising that the trickling into his palm wasn't the lingering warmth of blood, it was something else instead. A deeper awareness of that familiar warmth developed from somewhere in his mind, he sensed the strange energy diffuse deeper into his hand, then throughout his entire palm before the undulating heat began crawling up his wrist.
I wonder if… The urge to breathe deeply returned to him like before, totally ignoring the potent smell of death.
He closed his eyes to focus and this time though he felt a greater depth of energy than before entering his body, he was vaguely aware of a whole array of different sensations that came with it.
A cool, refreshing wave floated through him with more strength than previously, the contact reminded him of being back on the train again, and surprisingly…The blue flash?
His mind found a hidden connection that he didn't yet comprehend as it sank further still into experiencing the calming waves.
Kieran welcomed each uniquely different but similar feeling with every beat of his heart, and with each satisfying pull through his airways marveled at how his body felt all over once fully exhaled. Full of heat, sturdy, and with a lightness he hadn't known before, as thought the air around him was holding him upright without his asking.
Creeping tingles and shivers rippled throughout Kieran's skin and continued to move through his muscles and joints, The intensity and frequency hastened with each new energy‐saturated but very comforting breath he took.
In his relaxation, he couldn't quite understand what was happening to him, but he was sure it definitely felt natural and very pleasant, so he didn't even attempt to inhibit the strange movements he felt pulsing in his chest and lungs. How could his breath ever be wrong? Not when it had always fueled his body for as long as he had lived in it.
Another inhale gave power to the words he repeated out loud without thought or sound…
“With each breath, I am infinite.”
He exhaled so gently that the sound didn't reach the walls of the cavern, as both his mind and his lungs emptied as one.
The next inward pull with his lungs greatly increased the heat he felt inside his chest. He felt like each inhale was stoking the flames of his body's life to burn brighter than ever before and could practically see himself as a softly shimmering furnace in the dark corners of his closed eyes… I am infinite…he repeated in the still lake of his mind.
He drifted in that eternal moment between breaths for longer than he knew.
No thoughts. No emotions. Just him and the world as one.
A startlingly familiar feeling caressed his face, the sensation rippled soft thoughts of curiosity throughout his inner peace. Some small part of his mind knew he should investigate the sensation. Immediately lifting his eyelids he witnessed a pair of small bright blue windows stacked vertically in the air before him, they thrummed with that deep oceanic blue and crystal clear golden text, patiently waiting for him to acknowledge their arrival.
Congratulations!
New Innate Skill Learned: Pneuma - Breath Of The Soul
Congratulations!
New Title Gained: First Breath (Unique) - Pioneer of the breath of mana.
Kieran froze in awe as his mind filled with very little understanding and considerably more questions.
"Was it all real then? The messages I saw? "Nathan?" he whispered to himself.
And I've been breathing in mana this whole time? He felt happy to finally have a quantifiable name he could tie to that comforting warm energy.
Still, he couldn't quite believe his eyes, the cognitive dissonance of knowing this was fantasy content fought against the unflinchingly solid reality he was currently experiencing. All he could do was decide to go with the flow and put his disbelief on hold for now until shown this was anything other than real.
Thinking back on the meaning of gaining a skill his mind went back to obsessive theory mode.
Why did it just give me an actual skill and title thing for breathing? Seems kinda weird I guess...
He felt quite confident that an innate skill should be a passive skill of some kind. Consulting his jumbled mental library of not only RPG game experience but also the endless repository of mixed information he'd been fed from countless cultivator and magical system novels. Nothing really fit with what he thought he knew about these systems, and he really the system would reward him with a guide of some kind, and soon.
But it does say this title is "rare" right? rare better actually mean rare, and useful too! not just 'almost good' like in most MMO games where rare is trash.
Seeing the skill wasn't ranked he also considered that maybe since it was classed as 'innate' it might not get a rank, or was 'innate' its own rank?
The implications of either jumbled further in his mind. Kieran deeply wished he'd been 'Chosen' even more so now--if only just to go to the 'tutorial', at least there he'd have some kind of answers for what was going on.
so titles and skills have rarities, but would they follow traditional forms of rarity ranking? Aaah fuck I dunno there better be some guides later…if I get that far.
Kieran burned the system's words into his brain as he carefully went over each line and what these new gifts suggested for his immediate future.
"What is this 'Divine' System?" for fuck sake, it doesn't make sense to me.
He was getting so frustrated. If this system can award skills and titles based on accomplishments like a video game, why didn't it do anything when Kieran just killed two orcs solo and finished off another that was basically dead. Typically a system such as this would reward you experience points of some form from most if not all kills, apparently that was not the case for The Divine System as Kieran kept trying to remember this one was calling itself.
I only got rewarded because I can breathe mana first out of everyone else? Seriously, what sort of shitty system does that? I bet the people who comment “first” on videos must be having a fucking field day right now if that's all it takes to get some magic titles.
It also doesn't say if the title does anything for me though, no stats or effects. Fingers crossed it comes in useful for something please.
Kieran's next series of breaths after the system message felt entirely different. He was still in a bit of shock from the arrival of the notifications and didn't immediately notice the coolness of the air around him. But with a large sigh, he decided to stop stressing himself out of this ridiculous system. And just as the thought struck him a powerful sensation interrupted that chain of thought. The refreshing energy of each new lungful of air enter his body more effortlessly, as though it had found its new home and was already moving its Blu-ray collection upstairs.
Thankfully, it required very little effort to guide his breathing now–oh! that's gotta be the skill at work, surely?
Every new compounding wave of what Kieran now knew to be mana comforted his whole body. The realisation that he could become increasingly more magical with just some basic breathing exercises gave him the confidence to keep moving forward with a new semblance of conviction.
Overwhelming curiosity still filled his thoughts about what else the system could do with mana and these supposed Skills.
Oh balls, my memory is so crap! He chastised himself briefly for forgetting crucial information in the heat of the moment as usual.
Back then, the system mentioned 'the blessings' of classes as well as mana, they aren't tired together--so I don't actually need my class to use mana. Is that normal for everyone or is it just because of this skill? He found himself praying silently for a guide once more.
Kieran didn't have any of the answers he desperately wanted, but at the very least, he knew he needed to grow stronger and less scared of those green assholes if he want to get out of here in one piece, not to mention what other wild dangers he might discover in a magical world outside of this shitty dungeon.
Darren's cold body pumped out worse smells by the second and now that Kieran's special breathing had let the air move back to natural circulation, the scent finally hit Kieran's nostrils.
The relaxed death rattle had shaken loose the body's waste contents into his trousers. A puddle of yellow merged with the thick red pool that seeped into the tiny cracks in the ground below.
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Sorry dude, I don't have the time or a shovel to try and bury you. He thought regretfully. Kieran wasn’t a religious man, but he still considered saying a prayer for the man's death, mostly due to the crazy gift of the mana he had gained from the dead man's body.
Mana flows in the blood then, does that mean I was absorbing Darren's mana too? Yikes, sorry bro…maybe that's why it seemed so different to the orcs, it felt kinda like the blue flash and even the system windows...Hmm? Is that a different mana to what flows in the torches and orcs? I wonder what kinda types of mana there are then.
The absence of blue mana beaming down prompted Kieran to look up, only to find that the screens had sneakily vanished just as he spared a moment to scan the eerily silent dungeon. Only unmoving remnants of the carnage he’d been a part of remained undisturbed where they all met their end.
With resignation that he might be an absolute scumbag to breathe in the very mana of a guy who was murdered in order for him to live, Kieran would do it. If that was what it took to survive right now he wouldn't hesitate anymore.
you can't bring back the dead, at least not without a necromancer or something. so it's gotta be smarter to not let anything go to waste.
Kieran justified his actions before he continued inhaling the mana that seemed to be permeating the air around the corpses. Faint translucent wisps of light drifted from the pools of vibrant red and murky crimson blood. Kieran put aside the disgust he felt in himself for what he was doing as well as the sickly feeling the increasing odors of the cavern kept delivering. He focused on the barely visible glowing air that spiraled around him aimlessly.
It definitely said Mana breathing right? not vampire life-sucking-twinkle-fuckery or anything like that, so I should just breathe the mana and forget about the blood and piss for a minute, please Brain, let's just go with the flow...
In…..and out… he methodically reminded himself. Quicker than ever before, he immersed himself in his breathing and maintained the steady pattern of slow inhales and exhales, engulfing more and more of the warm mana for way more than just a few minutes, Kieran was oblivious to how easily his new skill facilitated this whole process. after barely a handful of cyclic breaths, time lost meaning, his entire mind focused only on the feeling of energy moving through him. An energetic tingling sensation spread steadily down his body as a greater heat developed in its wake.
Feeling and sensing the mana move into his chest and then out into his extremities was so surreal, the currents of energy were inexplicably comforting to him.
The heat that intensified in his limbs continued to pulse in waves, quite different from the previous feeling–less comforting and refreshing with each fresh wave that compounded with the previous one.
His body warmed up to a weird degree for such a cold cavern with no heating other than the weak flame torches. Eventually, he noticed he'd long since passed the sense of being warm and was feeling something akin to that unique heat you get from sitting in a sauna or hot bath too long. Sweat beads formed on his forehead and neck, trickling down his body. So focused on his breath and mentally willing the mana inside him to continue in greater and greater pulses, he didn't even notice that his sweat had begun to leak from every pore.
As the sweat dried on his hot skin, the clear salty discharge changed, and unbeknownst to him he had begun to expel murky beads of liquid all over instead.
In….and out…
The steadiness of his breath continued, despite the weird sensations he endured willingly.
In every limb, in every muscle, and in every breath, he sensed that his body was growing more deeply suffused with mana. The influx never ceasing, the heat constantly building. A pinching pain of light resistance bloomed in his chest.
Worry niggled at his thoughts for a second as the intense heat gave way to needling pains along seemingly random parts of his body. In an attempt to erase the fear and calm his heart, Kieran took a deeper and more powerful breath than he had felt the need for so far, trying to fill his lungs to their very maximum capacity.
He really wished he wasn't making a mistake by brute-forcing his strange new experimental skill usage, but the weak pain didn't feel like it was doing any damage to him, in fact, it felt quite the opposite, more akin to the tingling pain of standing upon the precipice of something greater.
The mana Kieran forced into his lungs refused to peacefully enter anymore as if magnetically repulsed by the earlier mana he'd absorbed. Seeing it behave in such a bizarre way, he experienced a slight epiphany of what he should do next.
With a concerted effort from his abdominal muscles, he clamped his mouth shut and squeezed at the mana that did not wish to flow into him anymore. It refused his command and tried to escape, forcing back up the way it had entered only to find the exit was now closed until further notice. He would not let the mana escape, it was his now.
Kieran was physically somewhere between holding his breath under water and preparing to be punched in the stomach with how he engaged his abdominal muscles even tighter yet.
Coffee-coloured skin gave way to bright red patches on his face as he felt the pressurised heat grow to a vibrating peak that surged in his chest. A large amount of mana had been trapped with nowhere to go, ownerless and unbound, it could only give in and flow obediently into the whirpool of mana building in his lungs.
The mana, however, did not go quietly into that good man's body, instead choosing to explode forth in a large wave that seemed to break something inside of him. Kieran bent over in pain as he felt his body was being electrocuted from within.
His muscles spasmed in turn and he clutched his thighs for support and to resist the tidal wave of pain and rioting mana that wreaked havoc on him.
Unable to even groan out in pain with all his muscled erratically tensing, his clenched jaw refused to release its hold on the remaining mana that lingered in his lungs.
The hot intense soup of power condensing inside him expanded out from his chest in a final wave, needles stabbed into his bones and his major vital areas all at once.
Oh god it hurts, should I stop? The fear of the unknown changes almost made him give up, and if he hadn't been through a veritable nightmare already today he most likely wouldn't have pushed himself this far at all.
"Screw it!" He sighed at his already made-up mind, he remembered enough magic and cultivation stories where the only way to get stronger was to stubbornly push the boundaries of what people thought was possible, to bite down hard and break your own limits.
In for a penny, in for a pound!
With a terrible exertion that almost made him vomit, Kieran tightened his core muscles past any normal amount of contraction. The pressure was unreal, nothing like anything he'd ever experienced and he felt like his lungs might burst any second from the crazy strain currently making his ribs creak.
The pressure seemingly maxed out, and just when he thought his body might explode, the pressure vanished like it had never existed.
Amazingly his entire body relaxed in a wave of deep relief. The needling pain still buzzed lightly throughout him but was muted enough not to make him panic at all.
Blue light glowed through his lids once more as he finally let out the air he'd been holding for what seemed at least minutes, fresh air soothed his burning, starved lungs.
Come on system, tell me I fucked up and broke my spleen or something…I'm ready…
Oh! Oh my lawdy lawd!
Kieran grinned deeply from relief and then surprise. He didn't know what the system would say, but what he saw was another greatly welcomed piece of information that immediately filled him with far more questions.
Congratulations!
You exceeded your physique's natural mana capacity.
The Initial Stage of Mana-body Purification has been attained.
The Path of Mana Cultivation may be as endless as the Greater Cosmos itself, but you have just taken your first step to a higher power.
"Is this actually happening?" The words escaped his gaping mouth. He read the message over and over just to be sure.
“The Path of Mana Cultivation”
"I'm not crazy, there are actually cultivators in the "greater…cosmos?"
I wonder why they don't call it a universe like us. Maybe it's a multi-verse? ah never mind, later!
Despite the initial uncertainty, seeing these words filled him with sweet, sweet confirmation that not only was he not crazy, but his whimsical theory was actually a reality now.
“I'm gonna be a fucking mana cultivator? Wait, but I'm still gonna get a class later too, right? This is insane!” the joy for what his future might hold almost made him jump and shout excitedly.
But his body was too tingly all over to move comfortably at the moment, so he instead just did a few arm pumps whilst practically shouting in gratitude.
“I love you System! I take back all the shit I said before!” Each joyful word echoed in the cave, and Kieran meant them too. Finally feeling the excitement of being able to progress and improve himself in ways his overly mundane life on earth would never allow.
The prospect of being a magician was always a fanciful dream not worth entertaining at all, stomped out of him as a child by the other kids at school. However, with enough time, knowledge, and hard work, he might grow to be more than even he could have dreamed of.
Waving his arms in the air turned out to be a really bad idea though. The movement drew forth potent wafts of decay to singe his nose and taste buds, reflexively he held his breath before taking the most gentle of breaths to assess what that assault on his senses had been. He barely resisted a powerful urge to gag and heave, quickly covering his nose and clenching his jaw.
The converging scents brought back childhood memories of a dead, rotting badger he'd once stumbled upon in his uncle's back garden. He still vividly remembered the poor little furry guys' guts spilled everywhere, rotting in a grim soup on a hot slab of the stone path, with maggoty croutons for added gross factor.
Yet this stench, it was far, far worse. And he realised it was considerably closer than he first guessed as he looked at his upheld arm, and then his lightly clothed body for the first time since the chaotic fight had broken out. He gave it a once over with his eyes, only to find the exposed parts of his skin covered in a sticky layer of dark sludge that looked to have been smeared across the whole of his body, barely sparing his head.
"Blegh" Kieran gagged harder.
that smell! what the fuck! it's me?!
He pinched his nose forcefully for a moment to think.
Is this the orc's blood?
No! He had seen enough so far to know that orc blood was darker than human blood, but still red in nature.
This is like tar…and it's under my damn clothes?
"Uugghh"
Carefully Kieran peeled open his depressingly torn shirt, then lifted his vest away just enough to see that no part of him was spared from this disgusting ooze.
Hesitant fingertips carefully scooped some of the oddly viscous substance off his skin, the blackness smearing free like a thick oil mixed with a mud mask, then mixed with dog shit.
Seeing so much of its gross existence on his skin, he didn't dare take another experimental sniff. already he was having to awkwardly breathe through his mouth so he didn't vomit anymore today; his poor stomach was bone dry.
With the knowledge that he needed to scrape his skin off to free himself from whatever this strange crap was possibly doing to him–certain it couldn't be anything healthy just from the stench alone–he looked around for something he could use as a rag.
I really wish I had a damn shower. Maybe the orcs have one outside somewhere?
Kieran remembered the awful odor the creatures gave off when he'd been squeezing one for dear life not long ago, and he chuckled to himself for the first time in what seemed a while.
Those smelly bastards wouldn't understand the concept of general bathing, let alone showers, and now I'm smelling even worse than them, for fuck sake.
Sadly, he had to bid farewell to his favourite blue shirt as he ripped the torn and dirtied top off–what remained of it, anyway. This strange grime prompted him to take another assessing look at himself, and quickly he noticed several small, wide red scratches all over his arms—presumably from the struggle with the orc. Thankfully, his green superhero vest underneath was still in one piece.
Thank god you're okay old pal, or how else would I escape this blackest night…heh heh
He exhaled a low-effort chuckle to himself, glad that nobody could hear his thoughts and judge him, except maybe the system. But that was a worry for another day.
Surprisingly, he felt zero pain when he tentatively stroked his fingers across each of the red marks in turn, feeling that the skin had closed up nicely and was apparently days into the healing process already.
Erm, when did all this happen? I guess the orc scratched me a bit in the scramble but regardless, these look days old already, how am I basically healed this fast?
Kieran figured the miraculous healing had to be an effect of the system or the crazy amount of mana he'd filled himself with.
I just don't get how–The soothingly warm mana still suffusing his body triggered another idea.
Oooh, maybe breathing in the energy with my skill can increase my body's natural healing along with the mana saturation, just like in some cultivation stories, or is the increased quantity of mana itself the actual cause and not just the skill?
ugh, chicken and the egg again. Never mind, later.
Looking up at the system notification again to make sure he read it clearly, he realised his random theories based on cultivation and fantasy mana might be even closer to the reality that was unfolding before him.
If that's possible though, would that mean the more absurd and metaphysical aspects of mana and cultivation exist like in martial cultivator tales, can I continue to expand my so-called mana capacity, and to what end? He managed to process some of the madness but still knew he had to focus on the present more than what the distant future held for him.
No, no, Slow down, idiot. He reprimanded his fanciful thinking.
I've gotta get outta here before any wild dreams of mystical dragon gods and throwing fireballs, but man I better get to throw some fireballs…
It all seemed insane, he couldn't wait to keep digging into the mystery of this mysterious system. In the past, he'd read many similarly themed stories that began like this, with blue screens and an omnipotent system granting power untold. With magical races like orcs–albeit much cooler than these mutts–as well as skills that were above the laws of physics themselves.
I wonder if I can cultivate mana just like qi, forming a dantian—or would it be a mana core?—whatever! all that good stuff!
Since the battle ended Kieran kept feeling progressively better, and he considered that all the mana he'd ingested might have helped a lot too. But now he had to assess his situation, take care of himself, and of course, make like a damn tree and leaf.
But before that, he had some important things he needed to try.
"System" he called out confidently.
Only a quickly fading echo responded.
"Status window?" he tried next.
Not that either?
Shit, what's the right command? Surely I can get more information through the windows, right?
"Character sheet?"
Still, no blue glow appeared.
"Fuck sake, system, I give up"
Bet it's something annoyingly obvious too I just can't think of it right now….
Kieran began wiping his dirtied skin clear in earnest now, slowly but steadily he scraped his way down his shoulders and torso and got the area under his vest as clean as he could. He refused to throw away his vest for sentimental reasons, as well as not wanting to run around shirtless and stinky like a damn murderhobo
Ah shit, murderhobos might become a real thing... Despite enjoying books on them, Kieran was not entirely sure how he felt about the concept of actually being around crazy people with terrifying power.
The more he scrubbed himself with the cleanest parts of his shirt rags, the more he started thinking about the gross black substance that covered him. Each dense smear of disgusting grime released a repulsive rotting animal smell and Kieran couldn't begin to fathom how it managed to cover his whole body in such a way.
Surely, he would have noticed being sprayed with such a quantity of this forbidden cola goop. The fact it had formed a thin layer over his skin and under his clothes actually reminded Kieran of something he had read about in many stories, something that might just be real too, if Cultivation was even roughly how he imagined it to be.
The dark sticky substance was known as bodily Impurities, some form of putrid excrement that would be released by a person's pores after significant physical or spiritual improvement.
Kieran's mind caught up with his senses fully as he slapped the pieces together.
No fucking way! That's gotta be it, the bodily Impurities.
The system said I'd taken my first step, so it definitely fits, logically speaking.
As he got up from his knees to take his jeans off and rub down his legs and all the other necessities underneath his clothes, his easily distracted awareness drifted to how his body felt, the complete absence of pain only just struck him as abnormal. A strange sense of comfort permeated his entire body, causing Kieran to marvel thoughtfully at the smooth and fluid feel of his limbs, his joints, and even his knees!
"Sweet baby Jesus" he exclaimed in utter joy.
"Even my spine feels amazing!" He aggressively twisted his upper body to the left and then right, marveling at the lack of popping sounds and entirely pain-free movement from the quick turns he made that normally would have tweaked multiple muscles in his back or hips already.
"And my head too? Oh, shit" He casually patted his old head wound, no evidence of pain or swelling remained. Only the dry, crusty flakes of blood that he regretted not having some water to clean off.
The usual aches and pains of his tired body had all miraculously vanished and his mind was beautifully free from the stress of ever-present soreness and aching that his joints carried with them from years of wear and tear.
This is bloody insane! I feel fresh off the press like the bionical man. only, less rich and handsome haha.
but still...this is outstanding.
Kieran looked over the cavern with a fresher set of eyes, his focus clearer even with the diminished torchlight.
Picking up an oddly dark shimmer of light that drew his attention to the nearest corner of the wall he hadn't noticed until now--he decided to investigate. Now in a mere vest and soggy boxers he awkwardly scurried over, confident he would hear anyone coming as his bare feet gently slapped the hard floor.
When he got closer he saw what happened to be a very small and shallow puddle of water no bigger than the size of a sink basin, which he considered perfectly appropriate for his current needs. A tiny rivulet trickled silently into the cavern via a thin crack in the wall, leaving just a few inches of water in the floor that he could use. He knew he needed to wash off as much as he could, for his own sake but also so that the orcs couldn't just sniff him out in the dark with how potently he reeked.
It'll be fine, l'll rinse off the rest of it with this water since I don't exactly wanna risk drinking it.
He surmised it would be far safer to clean what he could now instead of risking some wierd infection from getting this grim excrement in a wound or worse, in his mouth. The idea confirmed when he remember he was trapped in the middle of nowhere and most likely very far from antibiotics.
As he slowly splashed water over his body and vigorously scraped at the muck with his nails, his mind wandered over his current stresses like it would when he typically showered on autopilot. Namely the greater consequences of this strange 'planetary spatial assimilation" he was struggling to survive through.
I imagine everyone else is losing it just as much as me, probably assuming their brains are releasing psychoactive drugs or something. I'm sure they can figure it out together though surely. Slight hope filled his thoughts weakly as he worried about his friends that he might never see again.
I really hope Jimmy and the girls are okay, please system, don't be a complete asshole.
Kieran let his thoughts ramble internally and allowed the doubtful ideas to gradually lose power as he found the therapeutic aspects of self-cleaning to help him regain a sense of purpose and hope.
Chaotic memories of all the blood and adrenaline-fueled brutality left him with some confusion though, a needle of doubt prickled in his heart. Attempting to let it go for now he reminded himself what went down was truly life or death for him and that he really had no choice.
It was me, or them…I don't want to die like Darren did so I have to do whatever it takes. His was a path of survival. He could not doubt himself anymore until he was safe and free. Only then could he reflect on his actions through a moral lens and be judgmental--or even guilty--about what he’d done and what he still might do to keep moving forward.
Then I can eat some damn food, take a long hot shower, and maybe even sleep for a whole day. Once I feel okay I can try to figure out what the hell I do with all this magic stuff. God i cant fucking wait...
Let's hope everything back in London isn't too fucked up, I’d definitely prefer that my flat was still exactly as I left it. He remembered the sink full of dishes he allowed to pile up, waiting for the weekend to finally tackle the veritable mountain of mess.
Okay, maybe it doesn't have to be exactly as I left it…
Kieran didn't want to keep thinking about what usually happened to the capitals of most countries in magical system stories like this, it was rarely anything good for the densely packed inhabitants.
If there were gods now, he prayed that they were watching out for him and the rest of humanity.
With a huff at the coldness of the water, he started the most unpleasant part of this new cleaning quest, using cold mucky water to rinse black tar from his delicates.