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Wiping Brow

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Twentieth cycle of the fifth gift

Fourteenth day of the twelve segment

???

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The fire crackled on the shores of the island, as far as the crew could get away from the caverns without drowning themselves in the water.

Its beaches made of white sand, tiny glass beads. Though surrounded by water not made of the substance that filled the broken seas, it was all undrinkable, like all water in the broken seas unless surrounded by glass, touched by the sea water outside.

“I don’t know, Waddles, -Reina creased her brow- this sounds like a terrible idea.”

“Of course! Do you think I don’t know that,— oof.”

Tony extracted his elbow from Waddle’s deflated form. “Stop moving.”

“Uhhhhh- Doc? Me think da bandages broke again.”

“Sorry, Doc.” Waddles managed to gasp out only to be elbowed again.

Tony sighed. “I thought I told BOTH of you to stop moving.”

“Sorry.” Waddles managed to croak out

“But it so hard to move Doc!.”

“That’s the point,Org.”

“Giant Lobster! Fresh off the fire! Lightly seasoned with salt!”

“Ramsey, how did you get…. Never mind.”

“Yohohohoho! A piping hot meal! Such a treat!”

Heh. Heh. Stupid.

“Glad someone appreciates my craft.”

“Shut it, Argus.”

But. No. Mouth! Ha. Ha. The Captain paused for a moment before continuing. Eliza.

“Why! You mute little—!”

“Brooks! The Boss and the captain are fighting again!”

“Yohohohoho! It will be my pleasure to break it up, my lady!” Brooks dropped his meal and bowed before doing as he said.

“No… there’s not enough. Scrap.” Franky mumbled to himself.

“Here’s the last bottle of cola, Franky. Lobster if you want it.”

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Franky looked up from his sand doodles. “Thanks Ramsey.”

“You can thank me by finishing your plate.”

“Will do, Ramsey. Will do.”

Tonight they rest, tomorrow they shall see if they still live.

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Fifteenth day since awakening

???

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The core was MAD.

Angry at the gnats? Yes, but not MAD. That was a feeling that the core only reserved for itself. A feeling that always was accompanied with soft notes of humiliation.

To be nearly done in by a group of measly, stupid gnats with vapour for brains. What else can it feel? It could have done better.

And the gnats had the gall to invade its territory again.

Eight.

The core is sure one of them was the one responsible for the regular disappearance of its children. It’s creation.

Behold! Its newest creation! Traps! Rather, it remembered how to create and operate the older traps it used to deploy.

Two problems.

One, it’s crippled.

Two, it lacks understanding.

Imagine giving a layman the blueprint of a skyscraper, detailing how to create each of the crucial structures to allow it to stand, but no notes or description on what it is, what it does, and what each component does. You lack the materials and manpower to make the skyscraper but you do have enough to make a small house.

Which is what the core has the capacity to and wants to build but it remembers none of the knowledge of how and why. Only the blueprints for traps beyond its current understanding.

Even the system, the gift given to all beings the Mother considered living, cannot help the core due to its lack of perception and recognition.

Its status is still there, the core is just incapable of accessing it due to the lack of memory of its existence.

Even if it did, it can’t use its functions, as again, it’s based on its ability to recognize and perceive the object of its skill’s effect.

Essentially, to acquire a skill, one must first, recognize an action as a skill. Then, learn to perceive and quantize its effects, traits, and qualities. In effect, one’s proficiency determines the effect of the strength of one’s skills, not the other way around. So even if one someone somehow obtained a high level skill, they are unable to use it unless they are capable of the feat without system assistance in the first place.

It is not as if there is no reason to use the system however, as reliance on system function was not what the mother designed it for.

Rather the system is designed for the self-directed growth of her children. All beings that the Mother considers living.

Karma and Experience can be earned and monitored, then directed towards the growth of the user’s own design. Regardless of talent, as long as one is willing to stake their lives for the sake of growth, as long as effort is put in regardless of rewards, knowledge shall be given as long as one can recognize and perceive, and one is given the tools to reshape themselves as they wish. The system shall do its best to accommodate without crippling the user.

Lacking time, and blind, the core burned a little bit more of itself to build the trap. If the new monsters don’t do themselves in, it would have to burn even its name to activate the trap. It must live. No matter the cost.

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Twentieth cycle of the fifth gift

Twentieth day of the twelve segment

Imperial ship, Elfilin.

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The broken seas, nobody knows who or what made it this way but it is without a doubt one of the things the inhabitants of Elysium learn to avoid on the world of Dirtwater. Known to be more desolate and boring, save for the worms, than the driest of desert.

It took generations of trial and error to make a hull that wouldn’t be eviscerated by the sea, generations more to make one that would also float within its waters, and even more to create a ship that can sail on outside waters as well.

And these pirates are claiming they managed to build a ship capable of navigating the broken seas. A ship, mind you, that is the fruit of the Imperial’s best and brightest shipwrights.

Morgan groaned. He was seriously considering believing them seeing how they just randomly teleport onto the ship if not for the sheer stupidity that followed. He could even hear the jaws of his crew drop after the… thing that came out of their mouth.

“Alright. -Morgan cut them off- Enough of your…brain rot. I don’t need it competing with the Imperial bureaucracy.”

One of the pirates snorted. “Isn’t that right, boy? Part of the reason I became a pirate in the first place.”

“Yohohoho! Quite right. They’re a buzzkill.”

“Wait, you too, boy?”

“Yohohoho, quite right! You know what they do to artists, am I right?”

“Ahhhhhh. I remember.”

Morgan groaned again. He didn’t expect to agree with these… things of all… things.

“Quiet The eight of you are in custody for infiltrating the Imperial fleet—”

“Eight? There’s nine of us,” their navigator said.

“Reina, he’s probably just high on Imperial powder.”

“Ohhh, right, right, right. All on the path of ascension within the Imperial blah blah blah. Carry on.”

Morgan growled. “Do NOT insult me by likening the medicine of the Imperial to mere drugs.”

Of all things, Morgan did not expect the look of pity from the doctor. He’s prepared for the usual laughter when he demanded their respect, but not pity.

“So you truly believe it, don’t you…”

“Believe. What?”

“I see. Words will not convince you.”

The next thing Morgan knew, everything turned black.