Seeing as he didn't know when he would find drinkable water, Alik decided not to risk creating a chitinous armor if he didn't need to.

He didn't know if doing so would also use his already dehydrated body's water in the process after all.

Instead, he checked his new passive modifiers.

Passive Modifiers

: “Cunning Linguist”,

: “Endurance Regeneration I”,

: “Mana Regeneration I”,

: “Mental Fortitude I”,

: “Perceptual Amplification I”,

: “Vitality Regeneration I”

Wow, that's quite a handful. Alik remarked, rubbing his hands together more and more excitedly as the realization that he was dealing with some sort of magic slowly dawned on him. It was also satisfying to rub the healing skin of his hands.

So, what do they do?

Passive Modifier | Endurance Regeneration I

: Trained to the point of exhaustion and then pushed further and beyond, you have learned to differ between what your body can do, and what it tells you it can do. With the proper pacing, you can push yourself beyond what some find possible. Show your peers the true meaning of endurance.

Passive Modifier | Mana Regeneration I

: Exposed to extreme energies and quickly drained of your own, your body has felt the void left behind by its absence and learned to siphon that which permeates all enlightened beings. Through wisdom and flow, spark a newborn star within yourself.

Passive Modifier | Mental Fortitude I

: Your mind has suffered countless trials from its inception. Through the experience of countless beatings, battlefields, and deaths, your curiosity and innocence somehow remained partially guarded. As long as your will resists, your mind will find shelter from pain.

Passive Modifier | Perceptual Amplification I

: You have been sent into the deep darkness in search of your prey. You have heard secrets as guarded as treasures. You have relied on all senses when your eyes failed you. With uncanny perception, show the wilds the meaning of a true hunter.

Passive Modifier | Vitality Regeneration I

: Bruised. Sliced. Maimed. Burned. Stitched. Your body has gone through countless injuries, always leaving nothing but faint scars, if any, behind. A hard rock to crack, you will stand battered and defiant amidst a field of corpses. For that is your lot.

Alik stopped walking for a moment after reading all of the notifications. Something about the way the descriptions were worded made him feel...conflicted about this interpretation of his childhood.

Until a handful of hours ago, all he had ever known were his fellow Shards and duty to the Empire. While he had decided he would enjoy his freedom and return on his own terms, he felt unfair that this new system seemed to judge his past as one of pure suffering.

It was training. I knew what it served for. What I served for. They've made me stronger. Smarter. Better.

Haven't they?

Alik stood still for several seconds as he contemplated the matter. He had never considered himself truly a slave. He had a comfortable bed, clothes, and was always kept fed and healthy.

As long as I kept my thoughts in line and followed through with my orders.

Quickly finding himself uncomfortable with the growing cognitive dissonance of such thoughts, he decided to move on and check his resistances.

Resistances

: "Corrosion I",

: "Mental Corruption I",

: "Thermal I",

: "Toxic I"

There they are. Alik grinned, happy to have a brief distraction from his inner turmoil. For the most part, his resistances were expected from his conditioning, but he asked the system entity about the second one. He didn't remember of a time his mind had been at stake. Except for the assimilation process, that is.

Resistance | Mental Corruption I

: Your mind has been torn and rebuilt, exposed to countless external influences. For years, you have been told what to think, and when to think. Now that you find yourself free from the clutches of your past, your mind will find itself more unwilling to submit.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Alik grimaced. He couldn't deny the truth of his past, and yet, he felt like the situation was more nuanced than the system credited. He felt it was unfair to taint all of his memories with the fact that he had been nothing but a slave. He refused to believe it. He was about to spiral into another tantrum against himself when suddenly the wind picked up slightly, and he smelled not only smoke, but the familiar scent of burnt human flesh.

Alik crossed the dense vegetation at a light jog to avoid making excessive noise. The forest was dense enough to keep him hidden, but the same was true to anyone else who might be roaming in the area. Considering his predicament, that was something he wanted to avoid until he had more information.

The trees quickly became more sparse, and Alik hid behind a large one right on the border of a massive clearing, taking advantage of his still present camouflage.

In the clearing's center, around twenty meters away from the tree line, there were dozens of houses. Some were still smoldering, while others were still somewhat intact. What stunned Alik, however, was the way they were built.

Are those medieval houses?

After a few seconds of contemplating whether or not he had somehow gone into the past, despite the countless hypotheses developed that proved with near absolute certainty that such thing was impossible, he returned to his senses and analyzed the place more meticulously.

The houses were mostly built with wood, clay, and thatch. The few further in he could see had some stone reinforcements in their foundation, but still nothing impressive by his standards.

One hundred. Maybe two. His mind, under the familiar stress of being in an unknown territory, entered its calculative state. Through the number of houses, he estimated the small town to have housed up to two hundred inhabitants. The city walls were nothing but a wooden fence, undoubtedly responsible for keeping smaller animals at bay and domesticated cattle inside, and nothing more.

To his right, he could see a few larger wooden pillars, indicating that the town was expanding their efforts in defenses. By the charred smell in the air, it had been apparently too late for the decision.

Alik's stomach grumbled, surprising him. It had never done that, after all. And the fact that the first time it had happened was when he smelled what undoubtedly was human flesh deeply disturbed him. He didn't let it show on his face, however.

As he approached, he started hearing muffled voices from what he assumed to be near the town center.

I need water, food, and information. Maybe I can get in, assess the situation, and get out without detection. If necessary I'll try getting away, or in a worst scenario, fight.

Alik looked into the houses as he passed, not finding much besides basic utensils. He looked at his mana as he grabbed an iron kitchen knife and held it with a familiar reversed grip.

Mana: Impaired (207/250)

Not as high as I'd like, but close enough.

He was close enough to hear two men speaking with enough clarity to make out the syllables.

"Yahe, fi eth stidio dnt'ha didecid ot yrt ot sidlewn su, sith wodlun't ehav ppeahend, wodlu ti?" A gruff baritone voice said. Alik couldn't understand a word, but he kept listening, putting his passive skill to the test as he very slowly approached, keeping a house between him and the source.

"I wonk, I wonk. Btu litsl, twah eh did ot eth bodeis iths item...It aws a tib muhc." A softer voice answered. The anxiety was noticeable even through the language barrier.

The first man sighed, shaking his head lightly. "I arege. Stlil, dno't say taht naer ihm. You Mebemrer waht he did to Bihar."

Alik was close enough to peek around the corner without being seen. His mental assumptions had been right. The one with the deeper voice was an older man, in his late thirties, with a slightly mismatched leather armor, and a sheathed short-sword.

The other one was younger. Seemingly in his early twenties, he wore similar armor, but instead of a short-sword by his side, he had a big axe strapped to his back. While he wasn't skinny, it still seemed too unwieldy for him. They were marking an X with painted sap on a house's wall, near the door.

Unless he's got some sort of super strength affinity, that is.

Alik was impressed at how quickly he was starting to understand some words, and how some seemingly felt already familiar.

"Yaeh, Yeah. Of course I rebmemer. I can still haer teh screams at night." The young man shuddered.

They were starting to walk to the right, towards the next house when the older man tensed up before whispering, still loud enough for Alik to hear. "Someone's here."

Alik slowly walked back through the corner as silently as he could, to avoid instantly giving out his location. If the man's senses were as sharp as his own, Alik running would only make it obvious that the footsteps were from someone who shouldn't be there.

Alik took a turn to the right, into an empty street, when suddenly the older man landed in front of him with a thud, a few meters away. The man's expression was mostly one of boredom, until he looked at Alik's still camouflaged skin, that is.

Eyes wide, the man turned his fist to the sky and unleashed a wave of heat, making the air pop almost as loudly as when Alik had used his single-use sonic weapon. An alarm.

Before Alik could react to the impressive magic display, the man was upon him, moving his sword in a thrusting motion directly aimed at Alik's heart.

Alik dodged right, using the rusty kitchen knife to parry it at the same time he positioned his blade toward the man's unprotected neck. As the knife barely reached its target, the man shifted his body to his right, gaining distance from the threat before he jumped back with a powerful kick.

Alik blocked the kick with his left arm, instantly regretting his mistake as it cracked due to its still weakened state, eliciting a pained grunt. The damage dealt to both combatants after the short exchange was minimal, however.

Status

: “Mental State” : Focused,

: “Vitality” : Injured (725/750),

: “Endurance” : Slight Fatigue (580/750),

: “Mana” : Impaired (209/250),

The two fighters stared at each other, ready to defend themselves. Alik was already breathing heavily, due to his exhaustion and unstable body condition. The other man, however, had only a light scratch on his neck, barely bleeding. His breathing was still controlled, but his face was one of confusion and wariness.

Hurried steps came from between houses to Alik's right, stopping a few meters away. It was the younger one.

Alik considered his options.

The way he jumped from who knows where tells me his legs are stronger than mine, so I can't outrun him without injuring him before. But I can't get to his legs without massively exposing myself to a counter attack

And now there's this other guy with the comically sized sword, and who knows how many more coming... Things aren't looking good.

Cornered and thinking of no other choice, Alik immediately tried growing his chitinous plates on his arms and neck. After a single second, he nearly stumbled in place with a blurred vision. His body was at its limits. He didn't have the nutrients he needed to grow the carapace.

For some reason, the two men stood at the ready, but not attacking. They were probably waiting for reinforcements.

They are experienced... Alik was now panting due to his attempt, but he still saw no other choice. He noticed there was a thin film of dark material above his skin, on the spots he had willed the carapace to appear.

If only I could get a tiny bit more to grow I could risk a feint attack and run away...

Alik strained himself, using as much of the mana he still had into the skill as he could, to try to reduce the physical load on his body. Opaque black plates, mere millimeters thick, now covered the areas he had intended, but Alik's legs were now shaking with just the exertion of standing. He wasn't used to fighting without his implants, which would inject him with several chemicals, nutrients, and hormones on demand. As a consequence, he had overextended himself. After a single melee exchange.

To make the situation even worse, the vast amounts of nutrients and water consumed turned Alik more and more into a dry husk as his muscles shrunk, and his skin cracked and flaked to a speed visible to the naked eye.

The experienced warrior stared at him warily, confused at his opponent's nonsensical actions. Cryptids weren't supposed to know how to fight as tactically as this young fighter had done. They just charged blindly. He was missing something.

Status

: “Mental State” : Focused,

: “Vitality” : Injured (417/750),

: “Endurance” : Extreme Fatigue (3/750),

: “Mana” : Impaired (19/250),

More steps started coming from all directions as Alik stared defiantly at his original opponent, and unceremoniously face-planted the ground, unconscious, lifting a small cloud of dry skin on impact.

His life was now in the hands of the hostile strangers of this strange new world.