Ulric had to admit, the little guy had a point. Maybe months living in the wilderness alone were having some effects on his socialization. He'd always been fairly withdrawn, to the point that many of his coworkers, especially the ones that knew him well, called him a "Furnace you'd freeze to death next to". But now? And it had caused him no little concern that he'd killed five people in cold blood the day before and hadn't really felt a thing about it. He regretted that they had made it necessary. He felt bad for the waste of life, especially, from that warrior who seemed to have some sense of honor, if not decency. But there'd been no sadness, no hesitation, no grief over the first time he'd spilled the blood of conscious thinking men.
It helped that they'd been hauling a half beat to death child between them, but even then. Ulric felt like he should have responded more negatively to the violence. But why? Some vague notion that it Wasn't His Place to put them down? A remnant of the conditioning of his old society?
Well, he'd already decided those people had mostly been full of shit about everything else, so they were probably wrong about this as well. There were no police, this was the wilderness. There was no government in this place, no one to which he had to defer his moral judgement or onto which to pass responsibility.
As before, Ulric had to conclude that, in this second life, he would be the arbiter of his own judgements. He'd seen a situation which could not be ignored, not by anybody with an iota of civilization. He'd had the power, within his own estimation, to rectify it. It would have been an abdication of his responsibility to the peoples around him to let those men continue on as they were. It wasn't like he could just tell them to stop. No. This was natural justice and, if he was intending to live this life proper, if he wanted evil men to stop being evil, either he imposed his will on them to cause them to change their behavior for the better or he'd kill them and let the air they were breathing go to somebody who'd not waste it making other people's lives worse.
Perhaps this was what the Watcher had referred to when it said he didn't harmonize with that other world. Or maybe he'd had a psychotic break at some point? Potato. Potahto. Tomato. Avocado. Self-reflection was fine, but only if it led to growth. Here was the reality: he'd killed people. Bad people, in his eyes, but people. He didn't feel good about it, but he'd not done it in a fit of rage or unthinking. He'd been angry and entirely rational, even practical about their murder. After the fact, he decided that he'd have done it again. In the same circumstances he'd have chosen the same path to the outcome of saving a little boy's life.
There, he thought, there's the learning moment. Ulric was not the same person now who he'd been in that old life. The core, metaphorically, was the same, but there was a harder, more crystalline exterior that refused to defer his will to that of some unknown judge. And, maybe that was the difference. He'd simply stopped caring how what he did or thought appeared to anyone at all. He would do his best, make the best choices he could, help people if he could, make his own life better without regard for the feelings of others only when he absolutely had to. He would not enjoy the pain of another. He would not add to the suffering of the world out of pleasure or self-gratification. He would be only as cruel as strictly necessary to accomplish his designs.
What else could anybody ask of him?
"Yup. It worms in the head. Sorry, Ulric man, but is no medicine." the Brat announced confidently.
"You'll be finding worms presently, if you keep that up. I'll bury you under this tree." Ulric warned him. Jokingly warned him.
Brighteyes smiled then, a brief break in the morose expression he'd been carrying. Life had been hard on Brighteyes lately. He needed someone to talk to. Someone to be a dick to, who wouldn't be hurt by it. Someone who could listen without judging unfairly. Damn shame, Ulric thought, that he was all Brighteyes had here.
"Alright Brighteyes, we've got to get things moving." It was still early morning, sun well up and daylight established, but the suns hadn't yet moved into the canopy window so the glade held its usual light sprinkled gloom.
"First order of business, you can't keep using my blankets as a cloak and I can't return you to your kin naked as the day you started making noise. I'm making you some clothes." Ulric told the youth.
Brighteyes nodded his assent, bruised nudity having been an unfortunate imposition of the last few days on his person.
Gesturing himself, Ulric instructed "I need you to hold your arms out wide and stay still." When the kid had complied, Ulric grabbed a vine he'd used for similar purpose to measure the lengths of limbs, the distance from shoulder to shoulder, the circumference of waist, neck, wrists, and ankles, and the distance from base of spine to hollow where skull meets vertebrae. These values Ulric scrawled onto a piece of bark using one of his bone awls.
Releasing Brighteyes from his clutches he ordered the child to "Fuck off and do kid stuff but stay in the camp and eat whenever you want" and got to work on the deer/elk hides he'd been storing under his bed.
Morning passed rapidly then. Barely looking up, Ulric cut hides, soaked sinew, punched holes, and sewed leather pieces together according to the pattern he'd developed after wasting a great deal more of the [Forest Lord] hide than he wished. It wasn't until he'd roughed out the vest and over coat that he stopped and shared a meat stew with Brighteyes.
The suns had already left the window and light bespoke of the golden hour before night. They spoke little, eating their fill. Brighteyes went immediately to Ulric's bed and sprawled out snoring loudly through healing nose.
Ulric worked through the night, putting finishing touches on coat and vest before doing pants in one sitting. He felt pleased with himself when he looked at the set of children's clothes, the craftsmanship in them clearly better than that of his own clothes. Improvement of a skill always felt good.
While his hands worked, Ulric couldn't help but ruminate on how much he'd changed in the few short months since his strange rebirth. Hunting, gathering, fishing, sewing, weaving, firecraft, magical senses, physical prowess, and mastery of the strange flows of energy that he had to assume were mana. So very much had changed and, most of that change was reflected in his status.
As he'd grown here the Akashic record had indicated that he was gaining power. His body learned to use its strength, he learned to move better and more gracefully, he worked his senses and perceptions against the challenges of the land, and, gradually, he had become more here. This last series of events, capped off by giving a child clothes, of all things, seemed to have cemented his place as the master of the grove in which he'd vanquished the [Forest Lord]. And, where before he only had this power while in the familiar places he'd patrolled regularly, he now would retain this growth everywhere he went.
It was a great gift and Ulric had to again be thankful to these old trees, most especially, this fallen one. If not for its passing there would not have been provided the clearing and the pool where he could make sustainable life.
Ulric thought back to his sudden claim to ownership of the territory in which he'd come to call home. Well. He supposed he had earned it. He'd killed its original master in self-defense, putting the maddened creature down, he'd built a near civilized shelter and camp from nothing, and, now he'd experienced the duality of man with the first strangers to visit his lands. Harsh cruelty for the ones who had deserved it. Kindness and empathy for the one who had needed it.
If those qualities were what the Akashic deemed worthy of a Lord in this world then maybe the lands outside here that had people on them wouldn't be so bad. He'd been a little reluctant to go out into the world, fearing that it would be overrun with wizardly warlords, or necromantic empires, or any of a million atrocities that power overwhelming would inspire people to. Not that they probably didn't exist. But maybe they weren't as widespread as he'd supposed.
So far as civilization goes, clothes, a bed, and a good hot meal weren't much but they definitely weren't nothing. He indulged in a bit of hope that Brighteyes' village would prove to be everything a former Tolkien weeb could dream. He'd have to broach the idea of learning Elven to Brighteyes. It would be rude to show up in somebody else's land without even the most basic knowledge of their language.
Speaking of learning things, the sight of his status reminded Ulric that he needed to learn [Scan]. Brighteyes knew how. He'd try to get it out of him later this morning. Might allow him to determine just how bad the lad was hurt and how long it would be before he could travel. The savage assholes had been in a group and they'd still managed to get half themselves killed against beasts mostly already dead fighting each other. Ulric wasn't going to risk a trip through the canopy unless he had to, and he didn't want to try escorting Brighteyes home until he had a plan for how to keep him safe while they moved. Then there was the cliff. Had to be a couple kilometers climb, easy.
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For now, Ulric decided to get the fire going and get some food ready. He'd do some leaf wrapped tubers rubbed in a garlic "butter" made from animal fats, with a big damned slice of deer shoulder, flame roasted. Ulric decided then that there was little he wouldn't do for a loaf of fresh baked bread slathered in cream cheese.
Brighteyes woke to the smell of food and tucked in while Ulric, who'd already finished, watched. When the youth finished, meat grease dripping from his bruised chin, Ulric pointed to the clothes hung on a pole in a corner of the shelter.
"For you, try them on. Might be a little stiff at first, but you'll work them out soon enough." Ulric turned and went out of the shelter to clean up the camp while Brighteyes changed. Soon enough, his elven guest exited the shelter and stood to the side of the fire.
He was still banged up but, Ulric had to admit, the kid managed to look like a proper junior elf hunter now. With Lean limbs, piercing eyes, platinum blond hair, and a serious demeanor, Brighteyes was going to be a heartbreaker one day. For now though, he was a scraggly youth trying not to be embarrassed at receiving the generosity of a stranger.
"Is good clothes. Am debted." Brighteyes seemed to be taking this harder than Ulric would have thought. Too proud by half was this elven lord's son. Definitely needed dropped down a peg.
"Oh for crying out loud, " Ulric said, cutting the tension, "You think I want to see your skinny elf ass hanging out all day? Keep the clothes, I'll never get your stink out of them anyway. Besides, you're going to guide me to your village remember? I can't get there on my own. And if that doesn't square you, you can teach me some of the wisdom of the Elves. Starting with that [Scan] magic."
By giving him an easy out, he took some of the pressure off the kid. Nothing worse for a young man than being forced into a situation to which you can't respond. They just didn't have the patience to ride the wave and wait for their moment. The way Brighteyes' expression lightened, he was clearly glad to have a way to settle some of his self-imposed obligation.
The elf lad's face scrunched up as he thought about how to explain, with his limited command of human speech, how to focus the Akashic record onto another person and extract their status from it, creating [Scan]. Ulric wasn't particularly hurried, they had plenty of daylight, although the previous few months had decreased that daylight by nearly two hours compared to his initial days. Eventually the Elf started speaking, broken language tentative but gaining confidence as he explained.
"Ulric man know about status?" When Ulric nodded affirmative he continued "World remembers us. Men. Elves. Dwarves. Dragons. All leave imprint, imprints touch." Brighteyes brought his hands together, fingers interlocking to show that the effects of one life intersected with the lives of another.
"Call self-imprint [Status]. Focus mana on self, on imprint, call it, see own status. [Scan] like this. Focus mana on other. Harder. Different. But focus on other. See details. Like Ulric man filthy stiff hair or round scary gray eyes." Before Ulric could launch his own assessment of Brighteyes he'd soldiered on, keeping the momentum.
"See detail and call mana. Core bridge world, self, other. Call status but of other. This [Scan]." Ulric listened intently to the explanation. It was obvious that Brighteyes was choosing his words carefully, trying to make a subtle point with what limited language he had.
Ulric thought about his own status. How the Watcher had said it was a manifestation of the Akashic record, the world memory. That must be the imprint. Mana was how you communicated with the Akashic. It was easy to bridge yourself to the Akashic, you were already connected through your own core. Summoning the imprint you made on it yourself was as easy as concentrating on it. But [Scan] required you to try to see another's imprint. Naturally you lacked most of the context for the other person's imprint. You only saw the barest slice of their impression on the world, and only really because they were imprinting it with you.
Wait. That's it, you imprinted the world together with all the other connections to the Akashic. No man is an island eh? Ulric nearly smiled. Seems the great philosophers of his own world had found common truths to those of this world. It would be worth searching his memory for the lessons of those greats to mine them for more universals.
Ulric shook his head to refocus. Later. He'd do that when he had a spare moment at night, right now he had to get to the bottom of [Scan]. Connection was the key Brighteyes had given him. He focused on Brighteyes, on the details of the strange but similar features. High hair line in a widow's peak. Brilliant green and gold flecked eyes. Bruises. Leather hides that fit loosely, hanging stiff with newness. Keeping these details in focus Ulric reached out and flexed his mana, like he would if he was getting ready to shape a spell. He reached out with his core and sought to create a link from himself to the world, like he would with [Scan] only he would first link to Brighteyes and reach that connection through the elf first.
It took a few minutes, as details soaked in, and then, like an anchor dropping through the water hits the sea floor, Ulric felt a grounding and suddenly a window snapped into place in front of him. Almost involuntarily he muttered the name of this new magic
[Scan]
[https://i.imgur.com/8NMuFbs.png]
Cheating. This was absolutely cheating. Ulric had a moment of epiphany as he realized what absolutely insane bullshit magic could be. There had to be a catch, somewhere. A balance. If anybody could do anything there's no way society would function as he'd known it. Just a guy with some cash, some guns, and a hardened disregard for the well-being of others was enough to rule significant portions of the world from which he came. What could a man have brought under his umbrella if he could have access to this? Probably didn't bear thinking about, his old world had spawned tyrants and monsters aplenty sans magical fuckery.
Speaking of magical fuckery, Brighteyes had a few curiosities to chew on. He was way older than he looked. His traits did say elves aged more slowly but Ulric wouldn't have pegged him any older than twelve. Also, the name was listed as Brighteyes. Odd that it would have only the name Ulric had given him and not his real one, even though it showed all kinds of things Ulric would never have known without being expressly told or shown.
This [Scan] business just didn't jive with any analogue Ulric had. Some things the record showed you like you were the gods of the universe looking down. Some things it left for you to figure out on your own. Some things seemed to carry your own perspective, a mirror but passed through the polarization of your own experiences first. Maybe he couldn't see Brighteyes' name because it wasn't important and he'd just keep thinking of him as Brighteyes until a real name had relevance.
It was a distinct possibility.
One of Ulric's many, many, character flaws was that he had difficulty paying enough attention to people to remember their names. Really took the piss out of his coworkers, some of them who'd been around for years, when a situation finally placed he and they in close enough contact for them to figure out he had no clue what their name was.
Well enough. Brighteyes it was and will be until needs arose.
Dismissing these errant thoughts Ulric tried to wrangle his brain onto the other features of this new window. Elven, but then he'd figured that out already. Stat distribution pretty similar to a human with a little less in the physicality and higher in the mobility and mental departments. Color him surprised, Brighteyes wasn't a dummy. Low vitality though, maybe something to do with Elven biology, he was, to appearance anyway, a child just beginning adolescence.
Given the total lack of background knowledge, Ulric couldn't assume anything with any certainty. It was entirely possible that even the humans of this world didn't grow and age like they had on his prior one. Ulric himself was a good case for that.
The Watcher had said he'd been reforged and his trait to that effect was that his body was the peak of his soul's imprint. Whatever the fuck that meant. The result was not questionable, however. He was much more physically able than he ever had been on Earth, even at his absolute peak. Playing around in the woods he'd vaulted bushes and limbs he'd struggle to climb over previously. Easily a two and half meter vertical, hell he'd proven that when he'd jumped the [Forest Lord]. That beast had stood all of three meters high and he'd easily been able to grab its head from a running go.
He could dunk. Ulric almost giggled at the sheer asinine incredulity of that thought. But there it was. He could not only dunk, he could climb like a world class free solo rock climber. He could run as fast as any qualifier in the Olympics and for longer at that speed than any of them. Ulric wasn't sure how strong he was but he had a feeling that he'd have made a good showing in the power lifting department. He'd never lifted weights in his life.
If this was the result of being remade to fit this world it would stand to reason that the other beings were also stronger than their Earth counter parts, and that definitely checked out. The deer were faster and stronger than deer on Earth. The wolves he'd seen slaughter an elk had torn it apart far more forcefully than their old world counterparts. And the [Forest Lord] was to a bear like a candle to the sun. It had been less animal and more force of nature. All of this pointed to the stats being representative of some sort of quantization of an individual's qualities, and those qualities being generally higher than on his old world. Perhaps it had to do with mana infusing everything with additional possibility.
He'd thought it over during his time sitting next to a fire alone in the wilderness. He'd thought over a lot of things. You'd be surprised how much thinking you do when the sun goes down and the forest turns to pitch.
He'd gotten side tracked. Again. Brighteyes seemed to have gotten used to it already as he didn't say anything when he noticed his strange savior go blank eyed and start snapping his fingers. Damn it. Moving on.
The spells matched what he saw from the core. It would seem that Brighteyes had an elementally harmonized core. Ulric didn't know why. He knew that his own had no such indications, just reading "Tempered". It had been "Untempered" when he got mana sickness, which suggested that cores weren't static fixtures but could evolve over time, perhaps through experience or extended saturation with different types of mana.
Ulric hadn't had much contact with different types of mana that he hadn't made himself. There were faint fluctuations that could be felt if he concentrated really hard.
The fireplace was distinct, thrumming heat. The rock pool had subtle difference between the shimmering stillness of the pool itself and a more static feel to the surrounding stone. During the storms he'd felt something, like the impression of a bird flying just out of the edge of your sight when the wind blew strongly. He'd never forget the sense that came from the lightning that struck a bush in the glade. A lifting of hair, feel of a buzzing across his skin, threat of unimaginable energy barely contained. Then sizzling light, burning air destroying sight, followed by roar of thunder. Almost a religious experience being that close to lightning again.
He couldn't feel anything from Brighteyes' magic. No stirring, no pulses, nada. Which kind of made sense. A core that let its mana seep out wasn't very efficient, and inefficient organisms tended not to live long. Whatever process created cores and allowed creatures to use and be magical seemed to have produced a fairly well integrated union of meat and mana.
The moon magic was somewhat interesting but seemed not very strong to Ulric's perceptions. Not compared to what he used, at least. The multipliers weren't as good as his own and light could be made without needing the moon as a source. [Bladesharp] was useful. Very useful. It also opened Ulric's eyes to a whole new use for magic. Not just manipulating raw mana but infusing it into objects and modifying them.
He might not need to sew clothes together, maybe he could simply will them to merge. What once was one piece of leather could again be one piece. Would save a hell of a lot of time and make the result stronger. He could seal his shelter's cracks not by daubing it with mud and leaves but channeling mana to swell the wood together. Sharpening his bone tools with a thought.
Fucking cheating ass magic.
Ulric fell in love with this world all over again.