On account of the news that one more member of their group had finally gained a significant stat boost, they all felt the tension of their situation start to ease back a little. It was proof they were on the right track, and that some of them would probably just need a proper push to take the next step. Tyler had shown it was possible without having to rely on methods as drastic as Damon’s.
The Dao of the Gear.
Damon was extremely curious about what those visions had been like, and what Tyler thought that his next Dao might be. it felt like his own two fit quite well, so Tyler probably had some options in mind as well; unfortunately there was no time for interrogating his friend. They were running out of days fast, and Damon refused to let his mind be budged from its new purpose, which he’d realized was more important than ever. They needed to get the work done as soon as possible, due to the increasingly narrow timespan available, not to mention the precarious safety situation. What’s gonna dock next? Packs of tigers, swarms of burrowing insects, or why even wait for another island’s docking, why not flocks of darting birds to take all our eyes out?
Crap, a metal skeleton won’t do shit against that one.
It was becoming clear that they would have to be ready for just about anything out there, in this new world that the System was building, where magic was likely gonna turn the environment increasingly unpredictable.
Let’s face it, these operations of ours are half-assed. We’re gonna need something our potential enemies truly cannot account for. A bleeding edge.
Damon obviously informed everyone he’d achieved his 2nd Dao during the fights as well, but when he told them it was the Dao of Strength they’d all pointedly refused to be surprised, especially upon hearing the stat distribution. Ken had gone so far as to roll his eyes. The nerve.
This led to a discussion on what to do next, with everyone starting to see the signs of how this Path thing the System had gone on about was clearly more esoteric, rather than like the levels which seemed to be strictly about killing stuff.
It was also clear where the greater rewards lay; especially if someone could get all three Daos, which the System had emphasized.
They made the decision then and there that Damon could not be allowed any remaining weaknesses, if they could help it; they needed to strike while the iron was hot and make the attempt to enhance his full skeleton, before the opportunity slips from our fingers. There are no remaining reasons to hold back. If I’m lucky then I’ll be able to use that to push my self-reflection toward my third and final Dao too. For sure it's gotta be something that fits, and that narrows the options—but the two I’ve claimed already are also clues to what the third should be. I know the answer’s gonna be hidden in my past, so let’s not overcomplicate it. I need a real Dao Class fast! We really can’t risk any delay, it may well be too late by the next time we're attacked.
But Damon really had been on death’s door for a while there. He gasped out like a zombie. “Give me just nine hours of sleep, and then we’ll go for broke until the deadline of the Countdown, trying to cover as much bone as humanly possible.”
They didn’t try to hide it this time, and Tyler gave him a bleak nod—nobody thought to object.
They were positive by this point that the end of the Continental Shuffle would mean the end of the healing boon, and simultaneously the start of some new phase. One where their continued struggle to survive was guaranteed, but where reflecting on their Path would perhaps also be facilitated somehow?
The big question which remained was what dangers they would face. In the end that simply meant they needed to be prepared for everything they could possibly dream of.
So for now, Damon needed his sleep.
Those sorely needed nine hours were cut short however, by the end of hour six when the System suddenly made an earthshaking announcement, causing Damon to leap out of bed before he realized who he was hearing.
[48 Hours remaining to Integration lull. In another 24 hours, the assistance you have been rendered shall be scaled back. Remain poised and prepare yourselves to welcome new rivals for the Integration fulfillment. Self-reflect meticulously until the very end of our Shuffle if your wish is to secure a chance to Explore early.]
[Scanning.]
...
[Many have successfully taken the first step already. Yet the prize of Primus remains. Claim a true Class, take the next step towards succeeding where the others have thus far failed. Your window closes, but you may still position yourselves to bring new Paths to bear in the shaping of Terra’s Origin.]
This time when the System tampered with their temporal state, they’d been caught asleep in their makeshift beds, but the System still froze them solid while it spoke. Except it was very different for Damon this time around, he had somehow managed to spring out of bed while the System was talking, only to freeze somewhat, but he’d found he could still move his hands around quite freely, with not much effort.
There was no time to think of that for now, as the whole group was startled awake and got up to start speaking as soon as the freeze ended, everyone trying to decipher the message all at once. There was a lot to unpack, despite the brevity.
But only one thing was on Damon’s mind: The System ‘assistance’ would be getting scaled back, starting in 24 hours. In Damon’s mind that could only mean one thing; the end of the healing boon.
What other ‘assistance’ has she ever given us?
Damon got up from bed and locked eyes with Tyler. They would need to get started right away, there was no longer any assurance at all that there was enough time on hand.
To make the operation as safe as possible, the two of them decided to bring assistants this time, despite the gruesomeness of the task. After the Komodo dragons they were all baptized in blood anyway, not one person in the group remaining fearful of having to do what needed to be done in the name of the group’s survival. They were aware Damon would be bearing the brunt of the burden, yet they had also begun to realize why he was willing to do so in the first place. Many even gaining an inkling that they themselves might one day grow willing to behave similarly, now that things were looking like every day would be spent with their lives on the line.
They recruited Ken, Sarah and Abi for the task—since they were the ones who’d volunteered, and that was despite Sarah’s squeamishness in the vicinity of blood. It was mostly the smell, apparently. And she’d been getting used to that bit by bit, as everyone’s stink slowly increased throughout the week, despite their free access to cold water from the roof cistern. Blood doesn’t wash out easily.
When they started out this time, they ran into a curious problem though. Damon had gained another couple of levels from slaying all those dragons, but his largest increase had certainly been from claiming the Dao Vein of Strength; which had improved his Strength stat only. They discovered his body was as hard as a rock when compared to before. Even with the Beralumin knives it was a real struggle to carve into his flesh, and by the time they got a chunk off from alongside his ribs they were already sweating, while Damon was pained—though no more than usual—and mostly as surprised as the rest of them at the unexpectedly firm resistance of his flesh. Really goes to show how little we know about these damned System stats. Seems like we’re getting really disproportionate rewards, all from realizing the simplest things about ourselves?
They kept at it and still got the first part done, proceeding to let Tyler finish with the smelting and beginning the pour, while the rest of them took a break and got as far away from the smell as possible.
The final part of the process was still just as excruciating, and always followed by the addictive instant relief. Even with that relief in sight, Damon almost gave in to the urge to beg for the others to stop this mad man who’d been causing him so much pain all week. It was somehow just as painful as last time, despite his increased durability, and despite how there shouldn’t be any more muscle to burn than before.
They struggled on and finished the first side, having gone for broke and exposed the full rib cage’s bones before applying the heated metal, as per usual. No time to waste.
To be clear, Damon was not nearly tapping out because the pain had increased, but rather because he was feeling much more awake now than during the first operation. Although the 2nd time had been better, it was still a waking, delirious nightmare—while in his current state he was feeling lucid enough to where he could still fight according to a pre-prepared plan. It was better, but also plenty more stressful in a way. Why can't I look away?
Another significant factor was how much bone there was still left to go, and the pain was already so overwhelming. The task ahead felt insurmountable and he had not been prepared for how many nerve endings were exposed along the ribs.
By the time they got to the chest he was finally getting used to the heat, in a way. But they still struggled mightily with removing his pecs, and when the 2nd one finally came loose was when he fainted for the first time.
Despite that, they kept going, and going. By the time the clock approached the new deadline, they were all sweating like race horses at the end of a heat. They had done one hell of a job, yet their looks of awe were all reserved for Damon, who lay strung out on the table; allowed to finally let his body heal up once more, as they entered the final minutes of the System's assistance.
They’d done nearly the whole body, in the end. Very nearly finished it all, getting further than any of them had anticipated, as Damon kept cheering them along—in between pained howls—like a true maniac. Yet two final weaknesses remained—two which they’d been reluctant to touch, before knowing for sure that there was enough time, fearing something might go terribly wrong otherwise.
It was of course a matter of the head, primarily. Even if Damon could stand the pain, and they could finish the metal coating in time before the healing ended, there was still the matter of how the hell he was going to breathe after they cut his entire face off. By that point his life would be slowly draining away no matter his durability, and he would already be in dire need of emergency healing. Instead, they would be commencing the process of nearly liquifying his face bones—causing further excruciating pain, while burning away all the oxygen, and potentially letting the metal pour freely into his waiting brain.
No. That way lay certain death. Obviously they needed to plan this carefully, but they figured it was still doable—if only they’d had more time.
[Countdown: 24 hours 15 minutes 59 seconds.]
With only sixteen minutes remaining, things were looking bleak, but they were not over. The group talked over Damon's head and decided they should still do what could be done.
So, they scalped him.
They said goodbye to his lovely locks of hair, gave him a nice, proper shower, lathering the whole scalp in cold water, until they knew at least his brain would be chilled and protected. Then they angled it, so that most of the hot metal still touched his exposed skull, yet let the heat escape upward and past, and then they poured—only narrowly avoiding the boiling of his brain. This way was the safest option in their inexpert opinions, even then they still needed to carefully perform the operation in sections, and he surely lost a few memories along the way as his brain cells burned. Yet Damon endured, as always.
Once they finally finished pouring, with merely a minute left to go, they all grabbed onto each other's shoulders and watched Damon slowly recover with the help of the System's magic. The healing kept going strong right until the final bell, and they breathed out a collective sigh of relief and slumped down all sluggish, chuckling in disbelief.
It was over, they had made it. And he looked ridiculous. Bald as a baby, yet completely recovered. It was an immense relief to see Damon still breathing.
Damon had enhanced the vast majority of his skeleton in the end, but now they were out of time for any further operations, there was no shot if the System had withdrawn its temporary boon, now that the timer had run out.
That was when Hector called down into the garage, explaining that the Shuffle appeared to have ended—they had stopped moving, in the middle of a grass plain.
But they had stopped moving before. There was no telling that this was truly the end. Yet they had stopped on the dot, right as the countdown turned to the final 24 hours. Why was the Shuffle started again? Right, it was optimizing our environment for ‘diversity’ or whatever... maybe that might have been the ‘assistance’ the System was talking about? Is that wishful thinking?
Before anybody else could react to the news, Damon grabbed one of the daggers and jammed it into his leg like it was nothing, to the shock of everybody present, who still weren’t used to casual violence of that nature.
Damon smiled and winced then happily saved their expressions in his memory bank, quickly making the pain earn its keep. Then Damon withdrew the blade from his leg as swiftly as it entered—accidentally squirting a bit of blood on Sarah’s cheek in the process, which he wiped off apologetically, without a word—before watching his leg heal right back up, as per usual.
“We’re back in business fellas,” Said Damon with a big smile.
Only Tyler smiled back in response to the lunatic in their midst.
Stolen novel; please report.
----------------------------------------
Since they had already finished with his scalp without having to cut the skin off first, the improvised surgical squad decided that cutting Damon’s face off just wasn’t worth it in the end either. But they did not get started straight away, not until after taking the opportunity to crack a few jokes about how Damon’s now strangely durable face was likely to somehow resist the metal until it cooled anyway, forming all sorts of ridiculous masks.
But instead of cutting they really were going to pour directly onto his face, opting to let the metal burn away what needed to burn, since only a few thin layers protected the bones of the face anyway. They’d be increasing the period of the worst part—the searing pain of his face melting—but in exchange they’d be skipping the first, equally deadly part completely, significantly shortening the period spent without oxygen before they stepped back and commenced the healing. Regardless of the danger, this remained the safer choice, since option 1 risked rendering Damon brain-dead by drowning him in blood before even beginning the pour. They just didn’t have the surgical tools to make it work.
In the end it worked out wonderfully.
Considering the circumstances.
“Thanks,” Damon nodded to them all tiredly, once his face finished growing back.
They looked lost for a second, then realized they were really finally done with the hardest part. They nodded back in a very pleased, collective: “You’re welcome.”
He had made it through all the worst parts alright in the end, and the healing stayed reliable as usual, for now.
Which only left them with his feet.
They had been saving the feet for last, on account of not being sure that a layer of metal inside the feet would not unduly affect his mobility. The metal had done a wonderful job contorting to the bones so far, and making sure that none of his digits nor limbs lost mobility—but most bones were primarily designed to be protective or supportive in the first place. That they could be enhanced with the right metal was hardly a rare idea—it was an ancient custom in fact. The feet were a different matter, in many ways. The bones and ligaments contained within were excruciatingly complex, and a layer of metal, even a quite thin one, could complicate basic movements that Damon took for granted with every step.
They’d been relying on magic for working out the kinks so far, but if they were gonna do this right then they needed to essentially submerge Damon’s feet in their entirety, and then force him to keep stirring through the pain, to ensure too much metal didn't get stuck in the wrong places.
And so they stacked and welded together buckets to make Damon his very own custom foot bath, then filled it to the brim with the last of the liquid Beralumin, and then they left the rest to Abi and Sarah, who they figured had the best shot at getting Damon to complete this final step all on his own.
See, they needed him to keep stirring, for quite a while.
It was a horror, having to basically kill off your own feet in a smelter that was just open and waiting, heat rising off the nearly white glow. It even smells of pain.
Damon sat on that edge for an hour, as they kept stroking his back, whispering encouragements. He still couldn't do it, despite how the clock was ticking. It just wasn’t usually in him to hurt himself, he’d never gotten the idea behind it. He got his personal self-destructive tendencies out of the way by practicing martial arts, thank you very much.
This was different though. Although maybe not when you really think about it. Monks in China did something similar, even pre-Integration, didn’t they? Sticking their limbs into the hot and the cold, walking over coals, climbing deadly heights and diving into dangerous depths.
Yeah, mankind had always taken on these kinds of challenges, in the name of tempering themselves. And hesitating at this final stage, after his whole rest of the body had already been transformed, Damon started feeling a bit ridiculous. “Hah—hahaha! Of course, always the last stage. Now you hesitate. What, do you want to be Achilles? Of all the goddamn heroes…”
Damon was glad he’d been left alone for a bit. But feeling silly still didn’t make it any easier to just stick your feet into that burning, hot mess. He realized his heart was racing. What finally made it easy, in the spur of the moment, was his epiphany.
Thinking back on the operation had always been painful, so painful that he’d forgotten how much it really hurt him that first time, when they did his hands. He’d passed out like six times, and they did such a small portion? What the hell was that about? He was still the same old Damon, the same nerve endings and the same level of pain tolerance in his brain. Sure, he’d been getting some stats, but mostly Strength—that didn’t really explain this change. Durability did not mean pain tolerance. Yet Damon still didn’t have much of a boost from the rest of his stats, not by the time of their second operation—still only the one empowering Dao by that point—yet they had made it all the way to his spine before they really ran into trouble. He’d only fainted once during the shoulder portion, while they were cutting, and mostly from blood loss, which the healing soon resolved when Tyler rushed through the next step to keep him alive.
Damon concluded that he was simply doing what he’d always done; practicing. Practicing getting burnt, which sounded insane. But it was really true, you could practice anything. You learned which muscles tensed and were strained, which injuries occurred, how to move to minimize the strain and maximize your performance.
If you paid proper attention, then you learned something from every failure. No matter what you did.
That was what Damon realized in the moments before he stuck his feet inside that seething heat and started stirring, choking on his attempts to scream all the while. With only a few hours left to go by that point, he did it for a full excruciating minute, then his focus slipped and he went to pass out.
Ultimately Damon realized he was grateful to the System, specifically for the boon of healing that she had provided them with. He had used it to his fullest advantage, and would at least remember this time for the opportunities she’d afforded them, despite the great cost.
We've lost everything, but we're still here. We can still rebuild.
He was gonna be indestructible.
The Beralumin was all gone after this. Ken came back and reported that the last ingots in their stores, even some of the weapons, had already begun disappearing during these final hours. Finally the System finished the robbery—and only after taking everything else the System could think to rob them of—besides the building itself.
Damon had been sure his ingots were now next, despite their currently liquid state.
Only that perfect storm could have pushed Damon to go as far as he did.
He kept stirring, to the horror of the System who was the only one still watching.
Burn, for sacrifice. Burn for strength. Burn for complete bodily Mastery—were his final maniacal thoughts, aimed only at his own two feet—before the searing light of pain caused his mind to succumb. He finally stopped stirring his trotters and found he did not have the strength to remove them anymore. He had been waiting for so long that nobody saw him slump over, having failed to make a single sound throughout, but that was okay. Damon still managed to complete the feat; stirring his bones in the burning metal until the last remnants of his weakness were gone.
He ended the process by just lying there, soaking them both in the substance of power that his civilization had spent hundreds of thousands of years attempting to master.
He burned there for nearly fifteen minutes before he was discovered and saved by the horrified friends who’d expected him to remember to call out before taking the plunge, or at least to make some pained howls.
That was alright, his mind was past the pain by this point anyway, and the metal that first cooled upon contact with his bones served as enough of a shield to ensure that the bone never disintegrated past the point of being able to heal.
Damon still dreamed though. Dreamed of the Dao, which sought to empower him.
All his life Damon himself had sought strength, since realizing that was what kept him safe all along—the presence of his own parents with their great comparative competence. They taught, and he learned. Until he learned of the mastery behind learning, by attending his first dojang.
He had been applying the lessons taught there all his life, to every little thing. They had taught him how to breathe, and not just while you jumped and contorted your body, but while you were running and climbing, while you were kicking, and being kicked in return.
They taught him how to fall, and how to get back up to launch another strike.
How to mask your pain, how to exaggerate your hurts to provoke an opportunity, even how to use them for mental fuel. He’d proceeded to conquer all available walks of life, using that determinedly repetitive mode of learning.
New Dao visions played in Damon's mind then, dreams of a great, red Tree with palpitating roots digging deep, somehow down but directed back towards the Earth’s surface. The roots were a darker red, yet richer than blood and gleaming in the light where they circled the trunk. The tree was a mere sapling one minute, and a towering red giant the next, always nurtured by the fiery orb, but growing without direction until Damon came along. The tree had been struggling in the heat, trapped in a great series of chambers and unable to escape the flames. When the sapling was still young, Damon’s thoughts encouraged it to grow. The vision showed how it branched out, defying the flames and rebelling against its very nature to reach ever deeper into the earth for moisture and nourishment, reaching so very deep—until it bore a single fruit.
The fruit had a lone vine with a leaf, but it still grew large and colorful, shining a lighter color red in the fire’s flow; slowly forming a swirling pattern while growing large enough to make the branch droop down with its weight.
The fruit fell and was lost, making Damon think he should be troubled at first but surprisingly he was glad: he learned it was ripe. Besides, the Tree would not stop fighting, and would learn how to bear more fruits for others.
And here and now, Damon’s body was growing hungry—demanding to be rewarded for having survived the harsh lessons of tempering in molten metal. Damon had pushed his hands and feet especially far beyond any previous human limits, but the real reward was the Dao.
When Damon woke back up he found he was on top of the roof, with no memory of how he’d gotten there from the basement. He was suddenly all alone, in the early morning hours, but a strange fruit was resting on his chest.
The red fruit was familiar.
The sun was rising, but a fog still lingered outside.
He ate the fruit, feeling strongly that he ought to. It was orange inside, and chewy. Barely like a fruit at all, more like a—a tree mushroom. Really not a very nice texture, still sweet though.
The earlier pain was completely forgotten as he walked across the rooftop in a daze to greet the rising sun, which was when the System scroll arrived to distract from the view by rewarding his efforts.
[Dao Vein claimed - Mastery: +5 Str +5 Per +15 Mana.]
[Congratulations, Damon Bishop.3⁄3.]
[Dao set completed, Dogma key fully formed.]
[Achievement collected: Primus Explorer.]
[Primus Explorer: Begin your Path taking steps none have taken for your people before. Show everyone that follows where you would lead. All stats +3]
[Title collected: Fruit of the Origin Tree.]
[Fruit of the Origin Tree: Eat from the first fruits of a sapling Origin Tree, a promise to contribute further to its soil. All stats +2.]
[You have earned the status of Primus, and within the first week, while barely fighting. Astounding. Such feats have been accomplished in various ways before, yet I would not have fathomed the method had I not witnessed it all myself. I may have overdone the adjustments, a bit, but we shall see. For now, the prognosis remains acceptable.]
[Analyzing result.]
[Three Dao Veins collected - Sacrifice, Strength & Mastery. Dogma Key of the H-e-r-o claimed.]
[HERO Origin commencing cultivation. Seeding content for Origin maturation.]
...
...
[And a local Champion variation, not usually an interesting choice, but one based on a primary Dao of Sacrifice? Sounds gritty. Doubt you’ll get many Aspirants foolish enough for that one. I look forward to observing what comes, much further ahead. Thank you Damon Bishop, for enduring so greedily, in the meantime. Now, make sure to protect what meager freedoms have been earned thus far.]
[Countdown: 0 hours 0 minutes 59 seconds.]
Damon had not stopped walking around to look for his friends while the System kept talking, he knew that time was running out, but he could not find them anywhere.
[Countdown: 0 hours 0 minutes,Ten, nine, eight seconds.]
Time ran out and everyone remained missing, for a while yet.