It was noon, and I luxuriated in my chair by the window. Despite winter having bid its farewell, the air retained a lingering chill, making me savor every sliver of sunlight that managed to sneak through. I closed my eyes, embracing the warmth on my skin, inhaling the sweet aroma of flowers wafting in from the garden.
Ahh, this moment of tranquility. A blissful illusion of this peace.
Far removed, from the chaotic humdrum of the modern world.
“ELI!”
Of course, tranquility is short-lived when you have a little brother named Daniel. Reluctantly opening my eyes, I found him on my bed, channeling his inner Picasso with a crayon and my notebook.
“Were you sleeping?”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“But you looked like you were.”
“And you woke me up, now what is it?”
“I drew something!”
He handed over the notebook with a doodle. I furrowed my eyebrows. It certainly defied an easy interpretation. A bird? A person? A bird-person? It was like a Rorschach test on crayon steroids. I nodded, playing along with the, umm, abstract masterpiece.
"Ah, I see it now! Is it an art commentary on the duality of avian existence? Or perhaps a metaphor for the human struggle to spread our wings and soar?"
Daniel blinked at me. "Um, it's just a doodle."
My eyebrows staged a spontaneous ascent. "Well, colour me impressed, but what in the world is this?"
"Hehe, since you can't guess it, that clearly means my drawing is just that good!"
Ah, the Picasso logic of my little brother. Not quite the art world standard, but who was I to burst his creative bubble?
"I imagined one of your drawn magical beasts in human form, you know. Some magical beasts can do that, so I figured this is what it would look like!"
I mentally granted him a plus one for the imaginative effort. A generous plus three because, umm, the doodle was quite cute, even if the face seemed to channel a poorly drawn owl.
"Mmm, it's a masterpiece. You've captured the essence of...uh, owl chic? Good work," I praised, opting for the supportive sibling approach, appreciating the effort, if not the accuracy.
My own gaze landed at the notebook clutched in my own hands.
There was something in the whimsy of interpretation. Like art, like magic.
I opened the notebook and placed it on the windowsill. A blank canvas, ready for my scribbles. Grabbing a pen, I began to sketch.
The strange metamorphosis ritual had unfolded the day before. I strategically rearranged the furniture, ensuring that the edges of the carpet covering the ritual were snugly pressed between the bed and the table. Dislodging it would require a significant amount of effort.
My pen danced across the paper, recreating the tree with its five symbols. I had grasped the underlying essence – this tree was like a quest, each symbol representing a step. How did I arrive at this deduction? Well, it all traced back to the system screen.
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Elidranthia Shadowstep, Blessed of the [Killing Star That Wanders The Cosmos]
Blessing Tier 1: [The Crimson Larva]
Enlightenment Rate: 100%
Metamorphosis Progression: [20%]
Current Perks:
· Fearlessness
· Eyes of Terror Evocation
· Adaptation
Skills:
1. Keen Perception
2. Aerial Grace
3. Visionary Mastery
4. Featherweight Descent
5. Lethal Precision
6. Umbral Concealment
7. Fleet-footed Sprint
There was a new entry on the screen, [Metamorphosis Progression]. Said progression was about 20%.
There were five symbols, and currently, only one radiated with an eerie glow – the reptilian eye at the trunk, symbolizing the "Attraction of Gaze." Somehow, the ritual I performed had kickstarted the [Metamorphosis].
I began jotting down notes, delving into the minimal understanding the system had provided for each symbol. The rest, it seemed, was left to my own interpretation.
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1) Attraction of Gaze: Already accomplished, simply by viewing the [Metamorphosis Conditions]. Yet, the question lingered – the gaze of what or whom? My patron, the comet that bestowed its blessing upon me, seemed unlikely. I've experienced Their gaze before, and it resulted in an immediate mental blackout. So, definitely not Them.
2) Appeasing Them: Interpretation time. Given my elemental affinity for the hunt, it wasn't a stretch to assume that whatever required appeasement could be satisfied through the act of hunting. Earthly tribes used to offer portions of their prey to appease spirits; perhaps I needed a similar approach – hunting and presenting an offering to the… force whose gaze I had attracted. Probably.
3) Creation of Illusion:
It was a concept close to my heart. The creation of illusion in the hunt – a skill I've honed through those encounters with apes and goblins. It’s all about deceiving your prey, making them believe they have the upper hand when in reality, they’re dancing to your tune.
The art of turning my back, luring them into a false sense of security, and then striking when they least expect it. Feigning injuries, adopting submissive postures – hunt is more than just a mere pursuit for me. It's the thrill of lurking in the shadows, observing, and manipulating the flow of battle like a puppeteer pulling the strings.
In the hunt, I'm not just a participant; I'm a strategist, orchestrating every move for the final triumph.
A dance of deception. A maestro of illusion.
Being a pawn on my own chessboard-
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Mid-scribble, my hands trembled involuntarily, a sudden pause jolting my heart into a rapid rhythm. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply.
The sacred essence of the hunt. It permeated my thoughts.
The very act of contemplating it held such an effect on my psyche. Strangely, I found myself resisting any notion of restraint. The idea of suppressing these feelings felt almost sacrilegious.
Another deep breath centered me, and I refocused on the notebook.
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4) Control and Death: Noticed a pattern, and these fourth and fifth steps have me raising an eyebrow. This symbol seems to be bluntly telling me to kick the bucket. Yeah just… die. The third step was all about crafting illusions, and what better illusion than pretending to be at death's door while pulling the puppet strings on the battlefield.
Spicing things up with a dash of demise?
Old owner of this body never opted for an upgrade throughout the novel; maybe she shared my skepticism. I mean, anything claiming 'Death is the beginning' is probably trying to sell you a metaphysical scam.
5) Rebirth: The serpent sheds its skin and voila! Rebirth. Both the hunt and the metamorphosis conclude here. A grand finale – prey being mesmerized as the serpent gulps them down whole.
Simple, elegant, and perhaps a tad dramatic.
Final thoughts:
Yeah, it's all playing out like an intricate stage production. The characters? Predator and prey, strutting their stuff on the grand stage.
The audience? The mysterious watchers, snug in their seats, enjoying the show.
And the script? Well, that's left to the vivid imagination of the predator. Woohoo, Eli! Break a leg, I guess?
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Closing my notebook, the more I pondered, the more I felt like the bewildered lead in a play who just found out the grand finale involved a dramatic death scene. To bring the [Metamorphosis] to fruition, it seemed I had to embrace a ritualistic demise.
I mean, seriously? How did the art of the hunt evolve into a convoluted stage-play with a plot twist that involved my own death?