《Rekindle》 Prologue: One Story ends… another Begins.
The man lay on his side in the dimly lit sewer tunnel as the faint sound of water dripping filled the air. His eyes were dull and unfocused as the water slowly began to pool under his head; empty pill bottles and beer cans lay scattered around him, some still wet, others dry and caked. His clothes were rank with the filth of the sewers, but on closer inspection, they appeared neat and orderly. Almost as if, even in their ruined state, the man unconsciously upheld a certain standard. If not for the slight tremor of his eyes as they watched each drop fall, you could mistake his sunken cheeks, fish white eyes, and pale skin for that of a dead man. He did not care, though; he had long lost that ability. Drip...drip......drip..........drip. Each drop of water seemed to come slower and slower in the man''s eyes, each ringing echo louder and louder. Until the final drop slowly fell from its pinnacle. The man''s eyes followed that final drop for what felt like an eternity, and when it finally hit the puddle below, its sound was the sound of the world itself shattering. Then... Darkness. The man lay in the shallow puddle, his eyes no longer following the slow drip of the water above. No longer following anything. Empty. After a long moment, a silhouette blocked off the light from the nearby sewer grate exit. The silhouette approached, revealing the form of an olive-skinned middle-aged man in clean street clothes and a yanky''s baseball hat.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. The man was utterly unremarkable in everyway; just another face in the crowd you wouldn¡¯t ever notice. All but for his eyes. His eyes glowed with a gentle light, flickering with ¡°something¡± indescribable. And those strange, indescribable eyes, Eyes that could see beyond Infinity, beyond Eternity, stared down at the quickly cooling form of the man before him, a deep sorrow clouding their boundless depths. The man slowly approached and knelt down beside the fish-eyed man. As he had done with countless others before, the newcomer reached out and gently closed the fish-eyed man¡¯s eyes, before standing with a tired sigh. ¡°It is by the flame that gold and slag are separated, but when the flame dies, all that results... are ashes.¡± The newcomer was silent for a moment and closed his eyes as if in prayer before turning around and walking back towards the tunnel entrance. He spoke in a low voice with a smile, ¡°But while even a single ember burns, there is hope for the Flame to be... Rekindled." The newcomer left the dim light of the sewer and stepped back into the sunlight. He whistled a soft tune and strolled up a hill and down the nearby road, hands in his pockets as he made his way to his next destination. A small raccoon hiding in a nearby bush popped its head out as the newcomer walked away. Deeming it safe, the small animal briskly ran towards the tunnel entrance, hoping to find a stash or scraps. However, to its surprise, there in the dark tunnel sat a small pile of nuts and fruit as fresh as if they had been just picked. The small raccoon ran to the pile and began to fill its stomach, chattering excitedly, not minding the otherwise empty tunnel. Chapter 1: Embers among Ashes
Mark awoke to a pounding head and the loud roar of a hangover that refused to let him sleep any longer. Arms, once strong as steel and just as hard, but now weak and neglected, slowly pushed the man into a sitting position. Rough, calloused hands fumbled around in the filthy dark, instinctively searching for any bottles around him that might still contain even a little alcohol; he needed just enough to quiet the monster screaming in his head. He rubbed his crusty, burning eyes, refusing to open them until he could muster the strength to face another day of existence. A strength that mostly came from cheap booze and even cheaper pills. His hand not finding anything but cold, wet stone, Mark furrowed his brow, the perpetual frown that had over the years carved itself into his face, deepening. The man pried open his tired eyes with a deep sigh and grumbled at the empty floor around him. He''d chosen this particular sewer tunnel because it was far out of the typical roaming territory of the cities common vagrants and junkies; he thought he''d not have to worry about having any uninvited guests. He figured it was his own fault for underestimating their nose. At least he was still wearing his clothes; it wasn''t uncommon in this town to wake up to some poor sap trying to literally steal the boots off your feet. Grumbling all the way, Mark slowly dragged his aching legs to his chest and leaned against the rough, cool wall, letting the cold and air and stone massage out the pain from his burning and aching body. He''d had some rough trips before, but good lord, why did it feel like someone had tossed him in a washing machine while he slept? Catching a whiff of his weeks soiled jacket as he curled up, though, kinda made him wish they had... After several moments of silence, the constant roaring in his head began to die down. To his confusion, however, though the pain subsided, the sound never seemed to entirely disappear. Dry, bloodshot eyes squinting in the dim light, Mark lifted his head, and for the first time since awakening, he truly looked at his surroundings. "Huh? What the Hell?" Instead of the dull gray-colored filth encrusted cement wall of the sewer tunnel, across from him was a dark, rough natural stone wall covered in bright, grey-blue lichen. The stone walls were slightly damp from the spray of the small stream that ran under it, and the soft rumbling sound he heard was the sound of the water as it flowed rapidly out of the cave mouth. Mark took only a moment to recognize that he was not where he was when he passed out. Despite his back and legs protesting the exertion, the man stood, his furrowed brow going from frustration to confusion. Years of muscle memory and training kicked in, almost by instinct, as Mark began to quickly pat his body down in the dim light. He lifted his shirt to look for blood or signs of injury, but not seeing any apparent wounds or stitches, he let out a sigh of relief. It wasn''t like any of the City''s organ rings would get much for his ruined ones anyway. Not like that would stop some of the more desperate (or greedy) ones from targeting people like him, though. Mark calmed his racing heart, taking in as much detail as possible between the adrenalin and still pounding headache. The cave was small, no bigger than a large living room, though the small stream touching one wall took up nearly 1/4 of the space. It flowed from a crack in the stone near the back wall, pooling into a small basion before flowing out the nearby exit, making the air in the cave Humid and heavy. While it wasn''t very large or deep, markings on the floor and walls, as well as old ashes scattered around, told stories of how he was far from the cave''s first overnighter. He poked around the area to see if there was anything helpful left behind, but other than burnt-out ashes and what he could only assume were Hoboglyphs he''d never seen before, the cave was empty. Mark felt a small shifting weight in his pocket and reached into the old, tattered jacket. He pulled out a small outdated flip phone, his wallet, and the old silver pocket watch that never left his side. Why would someone take his pills and booze, dragged him, God knows how far away to some cave, and yet forget to take his valuables as well? Not that he was complaining.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Stuffing his wallet back into his pocket, Mark stared down at the old silver pocket watch, the last momento he''d gotten from his parents before he left for boot camp. Flipping it around, he gently fingered the worn engraving on its back. "For gold is tried in the fire, and acceptable men in the furnace of adversity." A slight, mocking smirk formed on his mouth; guess that made him just slag...not that it mattered, not anymore. Mark shook his head and silently slid the watch into his pocket again with his wallet. With a flick of his wrist, he flipped open the phone, only to grumble in frustration; no signal. Stupid cheap "pay-as-you-go" plans. He placed the phone back into his pocket alongside his wallet and watch, then stretched himself out, grimacing as his body creaked and groaned in protest. He was not the spring chicken he once was. Not that the excess booze and pills did any favors, of course. Moving towards the small stream, Mark approached a relatively calm portion and stared into the water. The water was clear enough that he could see the man staring back up at him, skin pale and loose, deep purple bags under bloodshot, listless eyes topped by a head of shaggy, unkempt coal-black hair and a ragged beard a finger''s length long. If one looked closely, they might be able to see the remnants of a relatively handsome man, but all Mark saw with a worn-out bum. Mark never thought he''d been handsome enough to be popular, even if he''d gotten the odd shy smile from the ladies in his youth. But years of neglect and drug abuse had wiped most of that away. Mark harrumphed to his own thoughts and spoke to the reflection. "What are you looking at?" Without waiting for a reply, he reached down and cupped a hand of the cold water and splashed his face. After washing his face, Mark took the opportunity to remove his outer shirt and wipe down his body in the clean water. The filth washed away as he shivered in the cold water, but at least it wasn''t biting cold like shelter showers. As he reached over the water to scoop out more, something caught his eye beneath the dark smudges on his chest. Mark gently touched the area above his left pec ¨C right above where his heart would be. There, barely the size of a palm was a black tattoo, reminiscent of the tribal tattoos that were popular a few years back. He scooped out more water and cleaned more, wondering if maybe it was just a smudge. The rest of his chest cleaned quickly enough, but the tattoo remained. He squinted at the unfamiliar image and traced along its surprisingly complex pattern. Mark rubbed his eyes with more water to clear his vision and then looked again. At first glance, it appeared to be a fireball or some kind of meteor, but looking at it in detail, he could tell that it was a small glowing egg wrapped in thin threads of fire. As he breathed, the tattoo expanded and contracted, giving it the illusion of flickering embers and dancing flames. Each line that made up the egg and the flames themselves were infinitely complex, formed from dozens and dozens of tiny lines and symbols to the point that Mark questioned how long it had taken to make. Mark scooted back from the stream, shaking his head as he tried to clear the last remnants of his hangover and reconstruct what the hell had happened last night. What had he done? Why did he wake up in a cave? Had he come here himself? Or had someone brought him? If so, why? And what was up with the new tattoo? He''d never been one for ink. But no matter how long he tried to piece his scattered memories together, he couldn''t find the answer to his questions. As the shadows in the cave began to grow slightly darker, Mark looked through the cave entrance towards the red sky of a setting Sun. Whatever had happened last night, however he''d gotten here, it looked like he would be spending the night here once more.
~~~ Several hours later ~~~ Mark sat down near the small fire in the back of the cave, the smoke escaping from a small man-made hole in the ceiling. In the fire sat a few ping-pong-sized stones, slowly starting to turn hot. He reached into the fire with a pair of green sticks, snatching up one of the hot stones like it was a dumpling, and quickly tossed it into a small, crudely carved bowl. Thank God for pocket knives. As the stones hit the water, the water began to hiss and boil. After repeating this a few times, Mark waited a short while for the water to cool before bending down and greedily drinking the remaining water. It was a slow and inefficient method, but it was better than going thirsty or contracting God knows what from the water. His years in the military had left him with a wide range of survival and combat skills, so he didn''t fear death like some city boy without his modern comforts for just one night. Not that it stopped him from cursing whoever had taken all his beer bottles. Mark sat back up and leaned up against the damp stone wall, enjoying the contrast of the cool stone and the blazing flame. As he watched the flickering flames dwindle, their gentle dance and the soft sounds of the night seeming to cast a spell on his eyelids. They slowly grew heavier as he began to drift off to sleep, familiar nightmares scratching at the door, waiting to be let in. A shrill scream pierced the night snapped Mark''s eyes open, dragging him from his half slumber. What was happening? Chapter 2: A Light in the Darkness [part 1] The little girl softly hummed a cheery tune as she read the open book in front of her. The slowly dimming light of the sun barely illuminating the pages as they shook with the swaying of the carriage moving down the road. So engrossed in her story, the little girl jumped when her Mother placed her hand on the child''s shoulder from behind the driver''s seat. The woman gave a chuckle before gently brushing away a strand of the girl''s wayward hair and speaking. "Merry, close the book, dear. It''s not good for your eyes to be reading in this light." The young girl turned around and gave her Mother a pleading look that only a 7-year-old girl could give, "Please, Mother, just a little longer. I''ve nearly gotten to my favorite part!" Merry looked at her Mother with an upturned lip, her eyes round and begging. The older woman gave a hesitant smile; her only daughter always did know just how to pull at her heartstrings. Before she could break under the power of her daughter''s puppy-dog eyes, however, a large, balled hand landed on the top of the young girl''s head with a light thud, making her wince slightly, "Now, Girl, Listen to your Mother. Close the book and start getting ready. We''ll be making camp soon." The girl''s father''s hand went from fist to open palm as he softly patted Merry''s head with his free hand. The other never left the carriage reigns, nor his eyes the road. With small tears in her eyes, Merry cast her eyes down and reluctantly closed her book, handing it back towards her Mother. Merry''s father softly stroked her chestnut, shoulder-length hair before turning and smiling down at her with soft eyes. The little girl returned the grin before sticking her tongue out at him and crawling over the seat and into the back with her Mother. The man driving the carriage simply chuckled and shook his head. After all these years, he still didn''t know what he had done to deserve such a beautiful wife and sweet little girl. But he could not help but think that this was what true happiness was. Watching the sweet family moment from atop a nearby horse, a young man in bright plate armor couldn''t help but smile. Having spotted him watching them, Merry peeked shyly from the back before dipping back with an Ehp! Embarrassed, the girl''s father scratched his head and turned towards the young man with an awkward smile. "I''m sorry about that, Sir Hero. She''s still shy around strangers. Though she''ll have to get used to it eventually if she ever wants to take over the Trade. Though I''ll admit, it''s not often you see a genuine [Hero] around these parts." The young man gave a short wave and his own awkward smile, before responding. "No no, it is perfectly fine. I know how young girls can be; I have a sister that will be the same age this year. Besides, I''d hardly call myself a true [Hero] yet. This is my first route outside of Order grounds. I still have a long way to go before I''m worthy of my Sigil." The older man nodded as he stroked his thick bread. "Aye, your first trip around the Ring, is it? I remember my own, though I imagine it was a lot less exciting than yours will be. I''m not fool enough to go hunting down Demons or fighting off Miasma Beasts." As the man spoke, a mocking laugh sounded from the back of the carriage, as the man''s wife shouted, "Ha! Don''t pretend you and Matthew had it easy, Thomas. I quite distinctly remember you two limping back from your first trip around the Ring with a half-destroyed carriage and 10,000 weight in Debt. If it wasn''t for Caroline pulling some strings, you two would have been hauled off by the GIU for all the crap you got into." Thomas shivered slightly at the mention of his best friend''s then-fiancee-now-wife. Even as a young lady, that woman terrified him. Still did, too. The older man coughed into his hand, face visibly red, as he tried to project an air of wisdom once more. "*cough* As I was saying... Don''t worry so much, lad. Every [Hero] has to start somewhere. You have a good head on your shoulder, I can tell. I''m confident that you''ll grow into your responsibilities. Just keep moving forward and do what you can. That''s all we can ask of you. That''s all anyone can... don''t let anyone tell you otherwise."Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. The young "Hero" simply pressed his lips together and turned his eyes back towards the road, digesting the words of wisdom from the older, more experienced man. As the group fell back into silence, two tiny eyes peeked out once more from the back of the carriage and stared at the young man on the pretty horse. Hero. That is what her father had called him. She had read the stories before, stories of the gallant Order of knights chosen by the Hero''s Sigil to cleanse lands thick in Miasma. But in truth, all Merry could see was a boy even younger than her father, not the shining Warriors of Legend. Seeming to feel her gaze, the Hero turned and met her eyes. Merry jumped, but gathering her courage, she leaned out from the back and stuck her tongue out before quickly ducking back into hiding. The Hero simply smiled awkwardly and gave a light chuckle. Turning his eyes back towards the road, the Hero''s face took on a more serious gleam, his eyes scanning the surrounding woods. As he did so, he asked Thomas, "Is it safe to make camp here? Should we not press on to Whitewood?" Thomas simply shook his head and replied. "No. We''ll never make it before Dark. And besides, there is a small cave a little farther along the road we can use. As long as we are vigilant, there should be little danger." The Hero frowned as he watched the quickly sinking sun. He wanted to press the issue, but he still wasn''t very experienced in this sort of thing yet, having only just started his travels. True, the Order had trained him in wilderness survival and navigation, but training and experience were two different things. In fact, if it was not for the good luck of meeting this Trader family on the road, he would have been hopelessly lost by now. In the end, he decided to defer to the father''s experience and stay silent. However, the Hero could not shake a feeling of unease in his heart, like the calm before the storm. ~~~ Roughly an Hour later ~~~ Time passed, and daylight began to slowly fade into dusk. The small group continued until Thomas gave a small shout, pointing towards a small stone bridge crossing a shallow stream. "That''s our marker there. If we follow the path upstream for about three or four minutes, we''ll come to a small cave. We''ll make camp there for tonight. The path is too narrow for the carriage, so we will have to carry the more valuable goods and hide the carriage on the roadside. Merry, help your Mother gather the camping gear." Merry gave a slight nod and started to dig through the mess in the carriage for their camping supplies. Thomas and the Hero worked quickly to unbridle the carriage horses as the two women began moving small crates from the back. Standing on the edge of the road, the Hero could barely make out the shadow of a small cliff in the distance, though the cave the [Trader] had spoken of wasn''t visible from their location. A quiet rustling in the trees was all the warning the young man had before he glanced up, eyes bulging a the sight of the figure falling towards him. Only carefully honed reflexes saved him as his buckler shield just barely blocked the heavy, gravity-powered blow that would have otherwise crushed his skull like a ripe melon. ____________________________________________________________________________ Merry and her Mother chatted quietly in the back of the carriage as they prepared the camping supplies. They spoke of their journey so far and what they planned to do once they reached the Trade City, Whitewood. As they talked, her Mother smiled gently as she stopped Merry from sneaking several heavy books into their bag. She never understood where the girl''s love for books had come from; she herself was just a plain farmer''s daughter who''d caught the eye of a traveling merchant and could not wrap her mind around the idea when her cute daughter spoke about the "worlds inside of the Books." But it made Merry happy, and that made Her happy in turn. As they worked, something landed on top of the canvas-covered carriage. Too soft to be a fallen branch or the like, but two heavy and controlled to be some forest critter like a squirrel or Tree-Rabbit. Both women''s eyes shot towards the top of the carriage, eyes watching the large bulge as it slowly crept closer to their location. Merry stood frozen, unsure of what was happening, even as her Mother silently crawled towards her, eyes never leaving the thing on top of their carriage. As she wrapped the young girl in her arms and opened her mouth to sounds the alarm, they were started by the sudden sound of breaking wood in the distance and the wild neighing of the horses. The distinct sound of a blade leaving its sheath quickly followed, accompanied by the sound of clash metal and the grunts of combat. As the two huddled closer together, crawling deeper into the carriage, Thomas''s voice called out through the chaos. "Merry, Martha! Quickly, hide!" Merry whimpered quietly in her Mother''s arms as the next several moments were filled with the sound of combat, the ringing of metal on metal, and the panicked neighing of the horses. Just as the sound of fighting seemed to slow down, the Hero''s voice cried out in a panic. "THOMAS! WATCH OUT! THERE''S MORE OF THEM!" Suddenly, the sound of whistling wind cut through the chaos, followed by a sickening thud. Someone outside gurgled as if choking on air, as a figure leaned up against the canvas sides of the carriage. Merry''s father stumbled backward into view in the next moment, a large arrow protruding from his chest. Thomas silently looked down at the arrow, dumbfounded, before turning his eyes to Merry and Martha. The light in his eyes was filled with fear and confusion, but above all else, a desperate pleading scream for them to run, to hide. Then with a gentle smile, blood leaking from his mouth. He fell. "NOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Martha''s wailing shriek ripped through the sounds of combat outside and echoed through the Forest. Chapter 2: A Light in the Darkness [part 2] Martha let loose a wailing shriek as she watched her Husband fall onto the coach seat. Though in her grief, she still had the presence of mind to cling to Merry as the latter tried to claw her way out of her mother''s grasp in a desperate bid to reach her father. "Father! Father! Let go, let GO! We have to help!" Merry screamed, wiggling as she tried to escape her mother''s grasp, but Martha''s grip was ironclad, though her eyes never left the still form of Thomas. The young girl continued to struggle, tears flowing down her face as the sounds of battle continued outside, when whatever was standing on the carriage stomped down, hard, cracking one of the support ribs. The carriage shook and wobbled, and just as Martha''s grip loosened, the little girl slipped free. Merry rushed towards the front of the carriage, reaching for her father''s form, her mother hot on her trail. As she neared the exit, however, the thing on top of the carriage followed close behind. Both were silent as their eyes followed the bulge as it moved along the canvas. Slowly, it approached the front of the carriage, near where the young girl knelt, wide-eyed and shivering, desperately trying to quiet her voice. There was silence for a short moment as the thing on top of the carriage stood still. Then, as quick as lightning, a long sinewy arm, its green skin lightly coated with white hair, reached into the opening from the top of the carriage. A large 4 fingered hand, fingered tipped with cracked, brown nails, widely swiped through the air before latching firmly into the young girl''s shoulder-length hair. Merry screamed, striking and kicking at the limb as it began to drag the small girl forward toward the opening. But the thing''s grip was too firm, the creature too strong, and the little 7-year-old girl couldn''t escape. With a burst of speed that surprised even herself, Merry''s mother crossed the carriage and wrapped an arm around the young girl''s waist as the other desperately tried to pry the girl''s hair free from the thing''s vice-like grip. As the two struggled against it, the thing on top of the carriage grunted in frustration. After a moment, the thing stopped its pulling and slightly loosened its grip. Martha''s hope soared at the change and braced herself against the carriage wall in one final attempt to pry her daughter free. Her heart dropped the next moment, as the sound of a blade leaving its sheath. Martha paused, her eyes growing wide. Slowly, she looked down at her tiny daughter and gave her a gentle, warm smile that opposed the tears welling up in her eyes. Time seemed to stand still in that moment for Merry, as the sound of the conflict and the chill of the night faded away, leaving behind only Martha''s warm smile and gentle hug. Martha''s smile turned sad as the world started to move once more. With a twist, she wrenched Merry free from the thing''s grasp and tossed her towards the carriage exit. "Run!" As Merry tumbled through the air, the last thing she saw before being tossed into the night was a rusty sword tearing through the canvas top and into her mother''s back. Merry hit the ground with a thud and rolled several feet away from the carriage. Winded and struggling to stand on shaking legs, Merry coughed, her mind still reeling, not wanting to come to terms with what had just happened. She turned to move back towards the carriage with tear-filled eyes, but what she saw made her stop cold. Though the dim twilight made the shadows in the carriage too deep to anything out, the slow trickle of red leaking from the back told her everything she needed to know. Her vision blurring from tears and her head dizzy, Merry fell to her knees and wailed.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. A figure leaped from the top of the carriage with a soft thud, landing in front of the crying girl. Merry barely noticed, her eyes glassing over as they stared in shock into the shadows. The creature stopped in front of the small girl, then after a second of silence, as if savoring her sorrow, it reached down its ugly hand, violently pulling the girl up by her hair. Merry screamed once more, finally turning her eyes to meet those of the thing before her. It had long sinewy limbs and mottled dark green skin, perfect for climbing and moving in the treetops. Sparse white hair covered its body, giving it a flickering appearance, like light filtering through the leaves. Its eyes were large and dark, capturing the tiniest bit of movement and light. While it was relatively short compared to an adult human, it was still nearly twice Merry''s size, and its large gaping mouth, designed only for meat, nearly split its small head in two as it grinned from large pointed ear to ear. ''Forest Goblin!'' That was the name that popped up in her mind as she saw the bizarre creature before her. While not as strong as their Mountain cousins or as fast as those in the Plains, Forest Goblins were intelligent and agile. They were vicious, predatory monsters who saw other races as nothing more than food. Compared to the other goblin races, the thing that separated Forest Goblins was their high intelligence, able to prepare complex traps and strategies, even forge their own weapons and tools. In some parts of the world, their intelligence was so widely recognized that some even called "Tree Elves." Although if you ever called them that in the presence of a True Elf, you would pay a heavy price. Looking around the area, Merry could see the result of the battle; several dozen Forest Goblin bodies lay scattered around the ground, some long dead, others with not long left. Merry could even see the Hero fighting a small group of 6-7 remaining goblins a short distance away. He was heavily outnumbered, though, and with each passing moment, more and more damage began to accumulate. Even one as young as Merry could see that he wouldn''t last much longer if things stayed as they were. "Gre Gre Gre Gre!!" The Forest Goblin holding her up by the hair, laughed as it looked towards the struggling Hero. The Forest Goblin held Merry up to eye level, its evil grin splitting its face from ear to ear. It opened its large, cavernous, razor-sharp teeth-filled mouth and extended a long black tongue that gently licked away the tears on her face. A look of ecstasy forming in its half-closed eyes as it laughed again. Seeing the joy filling the Goblin''s eyes, a deep rage filled the tiny girl''s chest as she screamed out, no longer in fear but a deep, burning hatred. Merry thrashed and flail about, desperately trying to do any amount of damage to the creature with her frail strength. Laughing as though watching the funniest thing it could conceive, the Goblin did not even try and stop her. Finally running out of steam, Merry let her arms hang down as she breathed heavily. Looking the Goblin in the eyes with deep, seething anger, bile welled up in her throat, and with a coarse sound, she spat it into the laughing Goblin''s face. The Goblin fell quiet, its eyes growing cold and its face expressionless as it sheathed its sword, still dripping with Martha''s blood. It used its free hand to wipe away the spittle before looking down. It stared at it in its hand for a moment, as if in contemplation, and then gently placed the girl on the ground. Confused, Merry stood in shock, not even thinking to run, when in the next moment, the Goblin balled its bony fist and slammed it into the left side of the small girl''s face. Merry only heard a small pop as the left side of her vision went dark before she was sent flying several feet away. She moaned in pain, struggling to rise as a sickly warmth flowed down her face and neck. Merry watched in fear as the Goblin slowly walked towards her. It was no longer smiling inched closer and closer, once more drawing the bloodstained blade. Merry fell to her back in resignation, unable to tell if her face was wet with tears or blood and no longer carrying. Instead, a strange peace flooded her soul. As the menacing form, the Goblin stopped beside her, blade raised, staring down at her with an eerie calm. But as Merry''s vision began to darken, all she saw was her mother and father smiling at her in her mind''s eye. Suddenly, there was the sound of a snapping branch, and the Goblin''s eyes shot up, looking past her. Merry could only feel a slight breeze as a dark shadow shot past, slamming heavily into the Forest Goblin, sending it flying several feet. The Goblin stood up; it looked at the shadow and screamed in rage. The last thing Merry remembered before her passing out was the shadow looking down at her, a strange light in its eyes, like a tiny candle flickering in a field of darkness. Chapter 3: Shadow’s of Past and Present [Part 1] The shrill scream cut through the man''s half-formed nightmares like a bucket of cold water. Now fully awake, Mark jumped to his feet, his sore muscles and joints protesting the sudden demand for motion. He quickly made his way towards the cave entrance straining his ears as he peered into the dark night. While faint, he could make out the sound of yelling and some kind of commotion farther downriver. What was happening? Had whoever brought him here returned? Or was it someone else who stumbled on something they never should have? Whatever it was, Mark hesitated at the lip of the cave. Even if he wanted to help, most people would just see an old hobo running out of the woods as another problem to deal with, not some knight in shining armor. The hand grabbing onto the rocky wall of the cave tightened as his knuckles turned white. The second scream, this one much younger sounding, was what finally tipped the scales for the man. Throwing down his thicker, heavier jacket, Mark dashed as fast as he could down the faint pathway next to the stream, careful to not lose his footing in the growing darkness. He might have been a washed-up junkie and alcoholic, but he was still ex-military. Could he really forgive himself if he just walked away... again? And who knew, if there really were people out there, maybe they could tell him where the hell he was, maybe point him towards the nearest town. Of course, being this far out in the woods, there was always the off chance that whatever was happening was not something he should see. Something way over his head. In that case, he could just hide and pretend like he was never there; the bosses of the local underground had been trying to find him for over a year now, he''d not be noticed by some low-level mooks. Maybe some would call him hypocritical, willing to help if the danger was low, but tucking his tail and hiding if it meant he might be burned. Mark had been like that once, he''d admit, willing to stick his neck out for anyone that needed him. Always the first to jump into the fire if it meant pulling someone else out of it. He''d also learned that when you put your neck in someone else''s noose one too many times, the Hangman might get tired of the games and just do his job anyway. As he drew closer to the commotion, Mark furrowed his brow in confusion. Why did it sound like someone was banging pipes together? And why did he hear horses? Had someone decided to take a ride in the woods and startled a bear or something? More importantly, he lived in one of the largest cities in the state; who even kept horses around here? Or had he been taken farther away than he''d previously thought? Just how long had he been out for? However, as he drew closer, Mark realized things weren''t quite how he imagine them to be. Instead of a group of hikers or horseback riders trying to scare away a bear, Mark was shocked to see a group of short figures surrounding a taller one near a stone bridge. While the shadows of the dimming twilight made the figures hard to see, he could still make out the group of small, cloaked figures swing some kind of rod at the taller figure. The tall figure, for their part, deftly blocked with his own, producing a steady clang of metal on metal that echoed through the forest. ".... the hell" With instincts hone from dozens of years in the Special Forces, Mark quickly dipped back into the shadows of the treeline, eyeing the group from a distance. Several more figures lay motionless along the wide, stone-paved road near where Mark hid. At first, he questioned what happened here; had he wandered onto some kinda movie set? Or a bunch of kids just beating the crap out of each other (in the woods? What the hell?). That''s what he would have thought, at least, if the fading sunlight glistening off of the slick stone and the heavy, acidic scent of blood in the air dismissed any notion in the man''s mind that what he was seeing was anything but serious. This thought was further confirmed as Mark watched the tall, shadowed figure swing their metal rod towards one of the shorter figures.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. The rod proved to be, in fact, some kind of bladed weapon, and the smaller figure was easily bisected by the blow, throwing up a large fountain of blood and further thickening the stench in the air. Mark stared wide-eyed from the shadows at the scene. He was no stranger to death; hell, he''d killed many himself while on duty. But never had he seen such vicious, bloody, primal combat before. Since when had the Gangs around here started using swords and axes? And why? Another young scream yanked his attention from the bloody combat in front of him, and Mark turned his eyes further down the road. It wasn''t the scream of fear or pain that it had been before. No, this one was deeper, more primal. It was a scream will with anger and frustration, with bitterness and hatred unfit for such a young voice that carried it. It was the kind of scream he was quite intimate with... There, several dozen meters away, sat what appeared to be an old-time canvas carriage, like you might see in an old western movie. Standing near the back stood a short fellow (though slightly taller than the ones fighting the man on the bridge), a small child dangling by her hair in his hand. The small girl struggled violently against her captor, punching and kicking whatever her short arms and legs could reach, though not to much effect. Mark felt his blood boil with a fury he thought long dead at the sight. He had no idea what he had just walked into, and washed-up bum he might be; but as the little girl''s figure overlapped with that of another, one he''d already failed to protect once, Mark knew he couldn''t not act. As he drew closer, stalking the short fellow through the shadows with the quiet grace of a seasoned predator, the clouds above them slowly parted. Suddenly, the shadowed road was illuminated in the dim light of the setting sun, and Mark froze, his blood running cold at what he saw. There, in the twilight, stood not a man, but the ugliest creature he''d ever seen. Dark green skin covered long, thin bony limbs that made it look like an oversized spider monkey. Its small head was topped with a thin patch of white hair. Its huge, pointed ears curved out and upward, appearing more horn-like than any creature''s had the right to. Its mouth was long and slim, exposing thin, eerily white, needle-like teeth as it grinned at the girl in its hand. The girl screamed and flailed at the thing, causing its large black eyes to squint in amusement. Mark could do nothing but stare at the creature in shock, mind blank, unable to process what he was looking at. It was not till the young girl spat in the creature''s face that Mark snapped back to reality. With growing fear and cold sweat dripping down his back, Mark watched from the shadows as the creature''s face went from vile joy to a shocking calm that looked eerily human. When it placed the little girl on the ground, a cold shiver went down the man''s spine. He''d seen that kind of "gentle" smile on the face of many men in his line of work. The faces of evil, depraved men who knew they would enjoy what they were about to do. Then, with a fierce left hook, the little girl was sent flying across the road, landing hard before tumbling to a halt just shy of his hiding spot. As the thing started to slowly approach the girl, Mark''s heart began to beat faster. He did not know where these creatures had come from or what the hell they even were, but he had to run before they noticed him too. He''d fought everyone from Terrorists to Gang members. He''d killed Killers and taken down entire organizations. But at the end of the day, all of his enemies have been Human. This thing most definitely was not. But as he slowly backed further into the shadow, a cold sweat dripping down his back, Mark''s eyes caught the eyes of the young girl. The look in her eyes as the creature drew closer, pierced his heart like a dagger. It was a dead-eyed stare filled with remorse and hopelessness, a look that didn''t fit the face of a child so young. Yet, there was still a spark left, screaming for life. Some small part screaming at the unfairness of it all, begging for someone, anyone to help. Again, the girl''s figure overlapped with that of another, those same eyes begging for just one person to reach out and pull them back from the darkness. With the crack of bones, Mark closed his trembling hands into a tight fist before cursing himself in his mind at the foolish action he was about to take, ''SON OF A ....!!!'' With a burst of speed, he''d not thought himself capable of in years, Mark lept from the shadows of his hiding place. Using that momentum, Mark delivered a forward thrust-kick carrying his entire 195lb mass directly to the center of the creature''s chest. The monster''s ear twitched as it reacted with surprising speed and dexterity, twisting at the exact moment of impact and bringing its sinewy arms up to block. The monster took the impact and shot across the road, tumbling several dozen meters as it crashed through the undergrowth on the other side. As Mark slid to a stop, his eyes caught the girl''s own. A glint of confusion and surprise flashed within before they clouded over in unconsciousness. Mark''s heart raced for a short moment, fearing he''d been too late, but the gentle rise and fall of the girl''s chest caused the man to let out a sigh of relief. Chapter 4: Shadow’s of Past and Present [Part 2]
Mark turned his attention back towards the spot where the monster had landed, expecting to find the thing down, even if not out. Mark himself would have struggled to recover from a blow like that in the short term. But to his surprise, other than a trail of broken debris in the undergrowth, the side of the road was empty. Mark crouched low, his hands loose and extended, ready to respond to any surprise attack as he quickly scanned the darkness and shadows around him. "Above you!" A shout cried from further up the road. Years of team experience kicked in, and Mark fell backward into a roll, barely dodging the dull, rusty blade as the creature fell from above, driving it half into the ground. Mark''s eyes went wide, his heart pumping wildly both with fear and adrenaline. What the hell was this thing? The thing had been sent tumbling by a full-force kick, yet it had managed to not only recover but scale the trees in the short seconds his eyes had left it. Mark was starting to regret his choice. There was no turning back, though; the dark anger and hatred that burned in the creature''s eyes as it stared at him told Mark that one of them wasn''t walk away from this whole. The monster grunted as it tried to pull the dull blade jammed between the stones of the road, centimeter by centimeter. Mark took the chance and sprang up from the roll, tackling the thing and sending them both several rolling feet away. As they rolled, Mark twisted, making sure to land on top, then pinning the thing''s arms to its sides with his legs. He began to strike at its head, aiming for its wide jaw hinge and large ears and eyes, like he''d been taught. Mark wasn''t in the best shape he had ever been in. Years of neglect had left his body half destroyed. But his skills were just as polished as when he''d ''left'' the service. When your daily life consisted of putting down every low-level mook who thought they''d get a promotion if they brought your head into the boss, you learned to stay sharp. Life on the streets wasn''t easy for a hobo either; you either fought for what you had, or you might end up in a ditch with a hole in your gut and stripped of everything you owned. But as each strike rained down on the creature, something felt... Off. Despite putting decent force behind each blow, Mark felt that his punches weren''t really doing much at all. They felt... muted, soft as if he wasn''t punching bone and flesh, but rubber or cotton. Thinking back to his opening kick, Mark realized he''d felt similar feedback then as well. What the hell was going on. The monster continued to struggle, but as it realized Mark was barely doing any damage, a sick grin stretched across its face. "Gre Gre Gre!!" The thing mocked the man''s effort, which had barely left a few darker green patches of skin on its face. Mark felt his blood boil once more, and he roared, raising his fist up high to deliver a fierce strike. Suddenly, his heart ''pulsed'' as blood rushed into his arm, filling it with both a burning feeling and an icy chill as if it had fallen asleep. In his adrenaline-fueled rage, Mark barely registered the strange sensation, but the monster''s eye''s bulged in surprise. With surprising speed, the creature somehow managed to pull its legs up under Mark from its awkward position and kicked out. The blow struck Mark like a truck, and he soared through the air, turning his full body swing into just a glancing blow. Mark tumbled and rolled, landing near the stuck sword. He used it to pull himself up, coughing as he regained his wind. Sharp pain in his side made him wince; it didn''t feel like he''d broken anything but the kick and most likely bruised a rib at least. The creature slowly got to its feet as well, wiping away the few drops of blue blood around the corner of its mouth. It stared down at the blood for a short moment before glancing back at Mark, anger clearly visible in its alien eyes. It looked like playtime was over. As Mark contemplated his situation, his mind racing to figure out how to finish this, the creature rushed him, coming in low, its arms close to its side. Mark slid back, slightly surprised at the thing''s agility, as he dodged the sweeping low kicked aimed to trip him. He stepped forward, striking the monster in the head with a knee before it could recover. The monster responded by using the momentum to slide out of his guard and to Mark''s side, sending a fierce jab into the man''s side. Mark doubled over in pain, barely managing to block a hook that would have likely sent him to the ground. Instead, he grabbed the monster''s arm and, taking a page from its own playbook, spun with the momentum, turning the block into an over-the-shoulder throw. The monster rolled with the throw, tucking all of its limbs in, before springing back up, trying to tackle Mark to the ground as he did. Mark brought up another knee to block, but in doing so, missed the vile grin that formed on the creature''s face. With a strange movement that Mark''s brain told him shouldn''t be possible for a living creature, the monster twisted on its heel, turning the tackle into a spinning heel kick at the last second, slamming into his unguarded flank. Mark screamed in pain, and when crashing down the road, before he slamming into the flat of the stuck blade. The blade bent back before the stone cracked, sending both him and the blade to the ground. Mark grunted in pain, grabbing his side; if the rib hadn''t been broken before, it was now. Slowly fear began to creep into Mark''s heart as the creature let out a low chuckle at his pitiable condition. What the hell had he been thinking, trying to fight this... ''thing''? This monster? He wasn''t a hero; he wasn''t some knight in shining armor here to save the day. He was a washed-up old bum.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Whatever this thing was, it wasn''t like the bumbling group of mooks fighting the man on the bridge. This thing was trained, it was experienced... it was a soldier, a Killer as sure as he once was. As Mark began to strongly consider retreat, a voice sounded out from nearby, "The Sword! You have to cut them!" Sparing a quick glance at the young man on the Bridge, Mark saw that there were only 2-3 of the creatures left as the young man in armor called out to him in haste. As he watched, another of the small figures was split in two by the man''s sword. Gritting his teeth, Mark struggled between staying to fight or running and leaving the thing to the better-equipped man. Would he be enough? Could he hold the thing off until the other man could finish and come to help? Would it even matter? Turning back towards the creature, the dark look in its eyes told Mark that in the end, it probably didn''t matter. Even if he ran, nothing would stop this thing from simply chasing after him and finishing the job. It would be foolish to turn his back on it now. Mark steeled himself and reached down to pick up the rusty sword behind him, eyes never leaving the monster in front of him. As Mark awkwardly held the unfamiliar weapon in front of him, the creature stopped and raised an eyebrow. It then began to chuckle before breaking out into hysterical laughter as it pointed towards the man as if it was the funniest thing he''d ever see. It wiped away a few tears, then began walking back towards Mark, an evil grin on its face. Mark had never used a sword before. A knife, absolutely; any soldier worth his salt knew how to use a knife effectively. A sword, however, was an entirely different beast. Mark could feel how awkward his stance was with the unfamiliar weight but tried his best to compensate. His instructors would have called him a fool for trying to use a weapon he wasn''t familiar with, more so in a life and death struggle, but he didn''t have much choice in the matter. Mark had once heard that there was some parallel between a sword and a staff, a weapon he DID have training in, if only in his youth. He didn''t know how true that was, but he figured now was as good a time as any to see. As the creature entered striking range, Mark opened with a forward thrust, attempting to spear the creature. To no one''s surprise, the thing easily sidestepped the blow, though its eyes went wide when Mark flipped the blade and transitioned into a sideswipe. Again, the monster avoided the blow, but not before the rusty blade managed to leave a thin, shallow cut on its side. The creature frowned down at its wound as Mark returned the mocking grin it had given him earlier. Still frowning, the thing raised its arms up into a stance strangely similar to a Boxer''s before advancing on the sword-wielding man. Mark slashed downward from shoulder to hit, but the creature lifted its arm to block, deflecting the rusty blade with what appeared to be hidden arm guards on its lower arms. The sword went wide, and Mark''s poor stance left him wide open for the flurry of body blows that followed. Mark pushed back, trying to gain some distance as he blocked and dodged what he could, all the while striking out with the sword blade or pommel when the opportunity presented itself. When the two finally separated, they both were breathing heavily, covered in various minor wounds and each other''s blood. The two circled each other for a short moment, both catching their breath and eyeing up the other''s guard. Mark was the first to break the stalemate, aiming with another downward strike towards the monster''s wounded left arm. Just as before, the creature raised its arm to block, though much slower than before. To Mark''s surprise (and horror), however, the blade didn''t slip down the guard, instead of catching on some hidden grove. The creature gave a wicked grin as it flicked its free wrist, releasing a small, thin dagger from the arm guard''s inner lining. The creature''s eyes lit up with malevolent glee while Mark''s heart sank. The monster thrusted upwards with its hidden dagger, aiming for Mark''s unprotected heart. Suddenly, the sound of a thunderclap erupted, echoing through the forest and sending nearby birds for the sky. The monster screamed as something slammed into its shoulder, sending it tumbling back with a spray of blue blood. Mark, drenched in cold sweat, heart pounding, turned to look behind him. There, in the back of the carriage, shirt stained with blood, a middle-aged woman lay. In her blood-covered, shaking hand was the still smoking barrel of a flintlock pistol. The woman''s breath came heavy and wet as the red blood still flowed from her mouth, but a fire raged in her eyes. Seeming to lose strength, the spent pistol fell from her grasp as she gently lowered back to the floor of the carriage. As the woman''s eyes slowly clouded over, they never left the form of the small girl lying nearby. Mark turned back towards the fallen form of the wounded monster as it writhed on the ground, clutching the large hole in its arm that poured out blue blood. The thing tried to slowly get to its feet, and Mark could see in its eyes that all thought of finishing the fight had left it. It desperately glanced around, searching for some means of escape. Mark wasn''t one to give them a chance, however. Especially to such a dangerous enemy. He rushed forward, the rusty blade raised to strike down and take the creature''s neck. However, the creature wasn''t out for the count yet, and with that same strange, unnatural movement, its body twisted to avoid the blow. Instead of taking the creature''s head, the sword bit deep into the arm the woman had shot. Mark felt the sword cut surprisingly easy through soft flesh and then rubbery bone. With another scream of pain, the monster''s severed arm went flying down the road, leaving a trail of blue blood. Breathing, Mark slowly approached the fallen creature, a fire burning in his eyes as he looked into the creature''s own, full of fear for the first time. Suddenly, there was the crack of wood and the twang of a bow from behind. Mark barely dodged the arrow as it flew past and embedded itself into a nearby tree. Quickly turning around, Mark saw another creature, its face half shrouded in a gray hood, standing in the shadows of the tree behind him. The creature slowly lowered the bow it held before giving a smile filled with mockery. A Light bulb went off in his head; Mark quickly turned around to look at the first creature, only to see it running at full speed towards the opposite roadside. As it reached the trees, it leaped upwards, grabbed a low hanging branch with its good arm, and pulled itself up. With graceful movements that belittled its injury, the creature began to climb higher. Turning around to give Mark a hate-filled, full-toothed evil grin, then quickly disappeared into the treetops. As Mark stood watching, a shrill whistle sounded through the night. The few remaining creatures still fighting the armored man raised their head and quickly broke off their engagement, running swiftly into the forest and up the nearby trees, just as the first had, then disappeared. The young armored man stood in shock for a moment before collapsing to his knees, his sword the only thing keeping him upright. After a moment, he looked up at Mark with strange eyes as they both stood there breathing heavily. Then giving a bloody toothed grin, he began to laugh. Mark stood there and looked over at the strange man and raised an eyebrow before shaking his head. Dropping the bloody sword, Mark turned around and walked over to the young girl, still lying on the ground. Watching the slow rise and fall of her chest, a frown began to form on his face. Chapter 5: Questions
~~~ Several Hours after the Ambush ~~~ The small fire lit the shallow cave, flaring as Mark sturred the flames. He grunted, rubbing his sore side as he leaned over, grabbing one of the drier pieces of wood from the nearby pile and tossed it into the flames. His eyes scanned the darkness outside before he glanced deeper into the cave. There, sleeping on a pile of clothes and furs, was the figure of a small girl. The light of the fire glistened off her pale, clammy skin as she tossed and turned in the claws of some nightmare. Mark could only stare, unable to offer any help for either the girl''s sickness or dreams. As he watched the little girl drawing in ragged, wet breaths, his grip on the thin branch began to tighten until a few drops of blood leaked through his white knuckles. The sound of a snapping branch near the cave entrance instantly drew Mark''s attention, his free hand falling on the hilt of the rusty blade. In the firelight, a young man, stripped of the armor he had been wearing just hours before, stood by the entrance, arms raised, a dirty shovel still clenched in one hand. The young man leaned the shovel up against the wall and spoke to Mark in a hushed voice, careful not to wake the sleeping girl. "It''s done. I can''t say it is respectable, but at least we''ll not have to worry about their bodies being eaten by some stray beast. We... I''ll return after I''ve informed the proper authorities of the attack. I might not have known them for very long, but I feel it''s the least I can do. Especially for.... " His eyes silently drifted towards the figure of the small girl but said no more. The young man sat down some distance from the fire, his body sagging as if released from some immense pressure. A moment of silence passed before the young man asked in a solemn voice, his eyes staring out into the darkness. "How is she?" Mark did not answer immediately, instead staring into the flames as if contemplating his words... He spoke after a moment, his voice low and without emotion, "It''s infected. Whatever it is, it''s spreading fast. I''m no medic, but I''ve seen enough to know she''ll probably not last the night." The young man twisted his head towards Mark, staring at the man in anger, before standing and pointing at him accusingly. "What the hell is your problem!? So what? Are we going to do nothing?! You''re speaking like it''s none of your concern; why did you bother saving her if you are just going to give up and let her die?!" The Hero was unsure what to think when he first met the strangely dressed man on the roadside. On the one hand, his sudden and inexplicable appearance and strange fighting style sent red flags off in the Hero''s mind. What were the chances that on a lonely road like this, after days of travel seeing only the occasional person, there just happened to be someone close by at the very moment they were ambushed? One who was able to go toe to toe, unarmed even, against possibly the most skilled Forest Goblin he''d ever lied eyes on? One he''d have personally struggled against, himself. On the other, he had put his life on the line for complete strangers and asked nothing of return for it. No goods from the carriage, no coin or spoils, nothing. The man had simply helped clear the road of bodies, hid the carriage in the woods and carried the girl to the cave without a word spoken between them; as if it had been an average day. The Hero was left with a strange mixed feeling of gratitude, suspicion, and frustration. Mark looked up at the young man and spoke in the same half-shout, half-whisper, the fire reflecting in his eyes. "And what do you expect me to do!?" The Hero opened his mouth as in rebuttal, but before he could, Mark looked back at the fire and spoke, this time his voice rumbling with barely controlled fury, "We''ve already gone through the carriage twice; there''s nothing there we can use. Not for something like this. And if you''re right, the nearest town is still a day''s ride away. Are you going to run the rest of the way? In the dark? Do you know if those... things are still out there? Even if you can make it, how long will it take you to report this? How long will it take for someone to mount an appropriate response? Would they even be able to make it back as quickly as you? Or you think you''re gonna pull some kinda miracle out of your crack?! This isn''t a story, boy! Sometimes there ISN''T a solution!" Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Mark went quiet, his breathing heavy, as he slowly turned back to face the flames, the fire in his eyes slowly dying. After a moment of silence, he finished, his voice once more cold. "Sometimes... people die... and no matter how hard you try, there''s nothing you can do about it..." The Hero felt as if a cold wind blew across his soul. He slowly closed his mouth and leaned against the cool stone wall. He slowly sank back to the floor as his legs lost the power to support him. Slowly, the Hero lay his head silently on his knees as his body began to shake faintly in the firelight. Mark stood up with a grunt after several minutes of silence, reaching down to grab his discarded coat. The young Hero did not even bother to look up at Mark as he passed by and walked into the quickly cooling night. Mark stood there at the boundary of the campfire and the darkness of the night, looking up into the night sky. He took a deep breath of the cool night air, trying to fire raging in him. Mark raised a hand and tightly gripped his chest as if it try and smother the ache in his heart. It served him right, he figured, what with sticking his nose in things like this... again. The man took another deep breath, focusing on the meditation and breathing techniques he''d picked up over the years. Silently, he tried to focus his mind on something else. In this case, he looked up at the stars, mentally mapping the different constellations he''d learned. There was Orian... Ursa Major... Draco... Cepheus... one by one, he located and named them off, almost chanting their names as he slowly wrestled control of his emotions. But what drew his attention the most was the sight of something his brain told him shouldn''t be. Hanging in the night sky, where there should have been a bright and shining full Moon, three distinct chunks of rock were starting to cover the eastern sky. Dozens of smaller, less visible fragments floating between them, and at the celestial bodies peak, the formation seemed like it would take up nearly a quarter of the sky. It was as if someone what taken a bat to a crystal globe and left the piece in the sky. When he had first seen it a few hours ago, he''d even questioned if what he was seeing was real. That maybe this entire day had not just been some kind of pill-induced nightmare. It would explain the furry green men and the weirdos hiking in armor, chopping people up with swords... Mark gave the slight a final glance before stumbling out into the darkness and onto the dimly lit pathway. He arrived at the stone bridge a few moments later, taking only a moment to scan the area for danger before walking towards the opposite side of the road. The man shifted around the dense bushes for a few moments before a bright yellow flower caught his eye in the ''moonlight.'' He bent down to inspect the flower, giving it a nod. Hands stiff from the cold and body still aching, he slowly extracted the plant, roots and all. Mark was years out of practice when it came to wilderness survival, but he was sure he remembered that Pot Marigold could be processed into a basic tincture. The equipment pulled from the carriage was primitive, but maybe... just maybe, they could buy a little time. Mark slowly brushing the dirt off of the plant, careful not to damage it. He looked down at the small flower, deep in thought, when a familiar sound came from his pocket. In both shock and confusion, Mark froze in mid-swipe before pulling the old flip phone from his pocket. A bright LED display flashed a two-word message at him as the phone continued to ring. Unknown Number. Mark stared at the strange yet familiar sight in front of him, unsure of what was going on, when an unfamiliar voice called out from behind him, "Are you going to answer that?" Mark made a sudden tuck and roll motion to his left, grabbing a large rock as he did so. With a practiced throw, he sent the stone flying towards the unseen voice. Mark corrected his roll and entered a combat-ready stance as he heard the sound of a heavy impact, stone on flesh. What he saw next, however, left him in shock, his mouth hanging open. Leaning up against a nearby tree stood a calm man in clean and casual-looking clothes, his outstretched hand gripping the large stone. The Stranger held a newer model smartphone to his head, its bright LED screen casing the man''s face in shadows. The Stranger pushed himself away from the tree as he closed his phone before putting it back in his pocket. Mark''s phone stopped ringing at the exact moment. The Stranger leisurely tossed the stone in the air, and when he spoke, his voice was strangely clear to Mark, despite the distance. "You always had a knack for the Curveball, Mark. I''m glad to see you''ve not lost your touch". Mark raised his eyebrow at the Stranger''s overly familiar tone. He didn''t bother to lower his guard as he squinted his eyes at the new arrival, trying to see through the darkness. Slowly, Mark made his way towards the middle of the road if he needed the space. "Do I know you?" The Stranger looked at Mark with a strange look in his eyes, then spoke in a small voice, "No. but I know you, Sergeant Floyd. Sergeant Mark Floyd, 3rd Battalion, 338th Regiment, 157th Infantry Brigade. Second son of Debra and Samuel Floyd. 31 this October." The Stranger spoke as if reading off a list, watching Mark''s jaw fall open. The Stranger paused for a moment before speaking again, a mysterious smile forming. "5''11, 195lb. Your favorite color is dark green, and your favorite drink is mint tea in scotch. Should I go on?" Mark''s mouth slowly closed as he stared daggers at the Stranger in front of him. His voice trembled as he tried to speak out in a threatening manner, "Who the hell are you?! Did Max send you after me? I told him before that I''m not going to work for him; I don''t care how much he''s paying". The newcomer tossed the stone away and looked at Mark with a smirk before answering. "I''m not with the Black Dogs, Mark. They can''t reach you here anyway." As the newcomer spoke, he pointed up towards the sky. Mark''s eyes followed the motion and his eyes landed on the strange splintered Moon. Mark felt his blood go cold and his body shiver as he watched the shards drift slowly through the sky. The Strangers clothes and phone, coupled with him seeming to know Mark, had made Mark forget for a moment that wherever he was, he doubted it was Kansas anymore. Mark forcefully quelled his shaking body, then lowered his gaze and asked in a quiet voice. "Who are you?" Chapter 6: Answers "Who are you?" The Stranger laughed and shook his head. How many times had he heard that question over the years? Enough that he might as well be reading off a script at this point. "Who am I? A Watcher? A Guide? A Messenger? What you chose to call me is not important. What is, however, is that I have a request for you, Sergeant." Mark raised an eyebrow. What was with the cryptic wording? What kind of game was he playing at? Was he implying he was some kind of angel? god? Did he think Mark was stupid?. "No, I''m not God. I just work for him, HAHAHAHAHAH! But that''s is not important at the moment. If you must, think of me as your Agent. Your Handler for one last mission." Mark''s eyes widened at the answer to his unspoken question, and cold sweat dripped down his back. The wary man''s guard tightened as he leaped several steps back, focusing on the ''person'' in front of him. Between the little green men, the shattered moon, and literal knights in shining armor, Mark no longer knew what to think about his situation. Now he had some... thing... in the shape of a person rooting around in his head? What the hell was going on?! The Stranger laughed, deep and full of mirth, but otherwise simply stood there, a grin on his face. "You''ve always been a thinker, Mark; I like that about you. I guess that''s why ''He'' chose you for this. Though you do have a habit of overthinking things at times as well. I guess it''s better than the last one, though. I''ll never understand who thought it was a good idea to send in some unstable teen. That kind of thing only works in novels. I''m not here to hurt you, Mark. I''m not even here to really guide you. At the end of the day, what you do and how you do it is totally up to you. As I said; Should you choose to accept it, I simply have one final mission for you, Sergeant. Ha, I''ve always wanted to use that line." Mark didn''t even pause to think about his response before replying in a cold voice. "I Refuse; I stopped following ''orders'' a long time ago. I''m not some puppet dancing on your strings just so you can keep your hands clean. I don''t care who you are, do your dirty work yourself." The Stranger paused, eyes wide as his shoulders slumped. Then, with a sigh of resignation, he shook his head and spoke in a calm voice, "You''re no fun. In all seriousness, Mark, you misunderstand. I say ''mission,'' but in reality, you don''t really have to DO anything. You simply being here, in this place at this time, is enough." Mark squinted his eyes and glared at the Stranger but didn''t drop his guard. "The mission that I have for you is a simple one. Be yourself. Live as you see fit, move as you wish, do what you feel needs doing. Learn. Grow. Become better than you were yesterday; aim for more than you will be tomorrow. And frankly speaking, Mark, you are already ''here''. There is no going back, no refusing even if you wanted it." Mark asked the Stranger, his voice low and threatening but curious. "And where IS ''here'' exactly?" The Stranger was silent for a moment, his gaze moving towards the shattered stones slowly drifting through the sky. When he spoke, his voice was softer, a small frown forming. "A Shadow? A Choice? A ''Possibility'' made reality. This world is but one of an infinite others like it, each resulting from choices and outcomes, Cause and Effect. A collection of ''What could have been'' sleeping in the shadow of ''what is''." The Stranger lowered his eyes, focusing back on Mark, a tired smile replacing his frown. "Don''t misunderstand. This world is just as ''real'' as your home; its people laugh and live; they bleed and cry just like any others. The only thing that separates the two is this world has become... sterile. Its ability to create new ''Possibilities,'' new ''Worlds,'' has been stripped. It simply... Is. It sleeps while others still run their race." Mark wasn''t a stupid man. Foolish, sometimes, maybe even reckless, but not stupid. One didn''t survive long in his old line of work if you couldn''t read between the lines. Yet, the implications of the Stranger''s words felt like a physical blow, causing his stomach to flip and his head to hurt. Mark''s heart began to flutter widely as he asked in a trembling voice.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. "W-what so, this is... some kind of ''Alternate'' reality? Y-you, expect me to believe that? And even if it was, what does that have to do with me? Why drag me all the way here if you don''t even need me to do anything?" Again, the Stranger was silent, but Mark could see the dim ''moonlight'' (shardlight?) reflect off a single tear as it traveled down the man''s cheek. "This World is dying, Mark. It''s no longer making choices, no longer growing or moving forward. It has grown cold and still, apathetic and content. With Apathy comes Stagnation, and with Stagnation comes Rot. If a branch is sick, it must be pruned from the whole before the entire vine is infected. If a limb is festering and the rot can''t be removed, then it''s better for the limb to be cut off than for the body as a whole to die. The flame could burn away the rot... but this world has lost its flame. A passion that once burned bright has dwindled into smoldering embers and ashes. But as long as even a single ember remains, hope isn''t lost. As long as even one spark left, no matter how flickering and frail it may be, the flame can be rekindled!" The Stranger stranger''s, as he spoke, grew louder, more animated. By the end, his arms were spread, and his eyes glistened in the light. "THAT is why you were called here, Mark. THAT is all I ask. Be a spark! An ''Ember'' to rekindle a smoldering Flame!" The Stranger paused, smoothing out his rumpled shirt as he collected himself. Lowering his arms, his voice once more soft and quiet. "Or else there will be no other choice but to sever this withering, rotting branch... and cast it away, into the darkness." Mark groaned, massaging his pounding temples, before glaring at the Stranger. When he finally spoke, his voice was flat. "I Refuse." The Stranger gave a sad smile before replying. "As I said, Mark, it''s not something you can really refuse. All I ask that you go about your way. Simply you being here, doing the things you would have done, whatever they might be, regardless of what you were or weren''t asked, is enough." Mark''s eyes flared as he threw an arm out in anger; he spoke in a voice near shouting, "And What if I don''t want to! What''s stopping me from gallivanting off into the woods, never to be seen again?!" The Stranger laughed lightly and shook his head. "You misunderstand Mark. It is not the Ember''s will to light the kindling that it lands on. That''s its Nature. No matter where you go. No matter what you do, your very presence will bring change. Like a stone cast into a still pond, ripples will spread and stir its stagnant waters to life once more." Mark''s mouth closed tight at the Stranger''s words, his clinched hands shaking as the fire of defiance blazed in his eyes. The Stranger''s somber face suddenly lighted before he clapped lightly, breaking Mark''s focus. When he spoke, his voice was once more the light and friendly tone he had when he first appeared. "Well, enough of the heavy stuff! You have more important things to worry about right now, don''t you, Mark? After all, that''s why you''re out here in the cold, isn''t it? I know you don''t like this, Mark, and you sure as hell don''t trust me. But I have a gift for you. Think of it as a reward for what you did today... and what you''ll do in the future. Simply say ''System Menu.'' Go ahead, do it." Mark squinted his eyes, staring at the grinning man in front of him. He was tempted to simply ignore him and walk back towards the cave. But in the end, curiosity trumped his wariness. "System Menu?" Mark''s eyes bulged, and more on instinct than anything swung his fist through the small grey window that popped into existence in front of him. [What the F---?!] Before Mark could finish his words, his mouth was slammed shut, seemingly against his will. The Stranger stared at Mark, a small warning glittering in his eyes. "Language Mark. As I was saying, I understand that coming to a new world may be confusing and overwhelming at first. More so when the culture, History, and common sense differ greatly from what you''re used to. So to help you in your travels, I whipped up a little gift for you. For now, let''s call it ''The System'' [Patent pending]. Think of it as a ''New World Windows Wizard,'' designed to fill in the gaps of information that you would otherwise be missing. It''s not perfect; it won''t provide information that you would otherwise not be able to access, such as someone''s bank pin, a history of which there is no longer any record, or certain private personal information, but other than that, as long as it is something that you would have had the ability to learn, then the System will cut out the grunt work for you. BUT WAIT! THERE''S MORE!! I''ve decided to throw in a few extra functions I thought might be fun. If you look at the Menu in front of you, you will see several buttons."
EXAMINE
STATUS
INVENTORY
INDEX
Mark stared in silence, blank faced at the nostalgic menu floating in front of his face. Mark turned, peering around the window, and gave the Stranger a look that questioned if the man in front of him was really sane. ¡°Seriously?¡± Chapter 7: God’s Tear The Stranger smiled back with a wide-tooth grin and shrugged his shoulders, "Why not? I heard it''s hip with the kids nowadays, so I thought I would give it a go. I have to say, it turned out better than I thought. The Main menu here is simply for organizational purposes; simply think about which one you wish to access, and it will open. You can bring up any individual menu by simply speaking its name as well, though do so later, we don''t have much time left. The Examine option is the primary function of the System I had mentioned earlier. Simply focus on the target and select examine in your mind, and it will bring up the requested info." Mark smirked, Focusing his gaze on Stranger and stealthily selected the option, only for a mechanical voice to sound in his head,
"WARNING, HOST DOES NOT HAVE PROPER AUTHORIZATION TO PERFORM THIS FUNCTION"
The Stranger gave a deep bellied laugh and wiped a tear from his eye before pulling a dull, rusty sword from the air. He tossed it to Mark with a flourish. "You''d not be the first to try, better luck next time. Here, try this instead. I recommend keeping it around; think of it as a good luck charm." Mark''s eyes narrowed as he caught the blade''s handle. His brow raised in surprise as he recognized the sword. It was the same dull, rusty blade he''d taken from the creature that had attacked the girl''s family just a few hours ago. A sword he''d left behind in the cave... Mark''s eyes once more widened as he focused on the sword.
Legend Quality: ??? Origin: ??? Status: Damaged Quirks: ??? Index Entry: This old rusty blade has seen more and been farther than you will ever hope to. It has traveled the world, being passed down age through age. It has been wielded by great and mighty Heroes and common peasant soldiers. It has been used to slay dragons and skin pigs. Its very essence is a Legend, a physical manifestation of History. Just don''t nick yourself, you don''t want to know what those stains are.
Mark once more looked up at the Stranger, again questioning to himself if the man(?) was genuinely sane or not. More importantly, if he should even trust him. All of this seemed too... convenient, too easy. The man said that nothing was truly asked of him. And yet, if that was true, why was he placed here, of all places? Of all times, shortly before an ambush? Was it simply coincidence? Or had they known he''d intervene? What would have happened if he hadn''t decided to check on the commotion? Or ran away at the first chance? Would they have really just let him go on his way? Or was he, even now, just dancing in the palm of their hand, moving on strings he''d simply not seen yet. How long before those strings became a noose? Or would he have to spend the rest of his life questioning his every action, his every thought, wondering if what he wanted was indeed his own desire or simply what he''d been lead to believe was. No...NO....nOnOnonononNO. He couldn''t fall down that rabbit hole. Not again. That way, Madness lies... He had to at least trust Himself, if no one else. If he couldn''t even trust Himself, then what could he trust? Mark stared down at the rusty blade and took a deep, calming breath before tightening his grip around the sheath and tying it to his belt. The Stranger looked at Mark with a laugh shook his head before waving the man towards a particular direction. "Time''s almost up, but I have one more ''gift'' for you." The Stranger pointed at the nearby carriage and crooked his finger as if beckoning. The hidden carriage shook slightly as the bottom of the driver''s seat slid out with the creak of old wood rubbing against itself. Mark, numb to all of the strange things in the past day, barely flinched before slowly approaching the revealed compartment. Strange... he was sure he''d checked the carriage thoroughly, in the off chance they might have missed something that could have been of help. A closer inspection of the cubby showed that the seams blended so perfectly together that they would have been totally invisible when closed. It spoke of a level of craftsmanship that far outstripped the rest of the carriage and what he would expect from something so... rustic. Inside sat a briefcase-sized wooden box, a large book, a folded letter, and a small satchel. Opening the boss, Mark found a surprisingly complex toolkit, similar to antique surgical kits he''d only ever seen on TV. The tools were obviously of exceptionally high quality, almost to the point of looking machine, with several small, brown glass bottles and clean-gauze neatly packed within. But what caught Mark''s attention most was the center compartment, where dozens of bundles of dried herbs and medical plants, some of which Mark recognized and others that looked almost alien. The strangest of all was a long blue stalk of a plant he''d never seen before, one that looked as fresh and vibrant as if it had just been clipped. Mark lifted the strange stalk into the air, amazed at how fresh it appeared to be despite obviously being harvested long ago. He found the most striking feature of the herb to be its several small but transparent berries crowning its top. The skin of the berries was filled with light blue liquid that glowed slightly in the moonlight. Though they appeared fragile at first glance, their skin was thick and rubbery, refusing to burst even when Mark gave them a good squeeze between his fingers.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Engrossed in the strange plant, Mark nearly jumped out of his skin when the Stranger called from behind, his voice quiet and soft. "The box was Merry''s Mother, Martha''s, Apothecary kit. She loved to experiment and cultivate new herbs and understand how they worked. Take it to Alexander; he should be able to use what is there for Merry. The Book was meant to be a gift from her Father, Thomas. I''d ask that you hand it and the letter to her once she''s recovered. The gold in the satchel, you can keep. It was intended to be used as emergency funds in case something ever happened, but it will be only a tiny fraction of Merry''s¡­inheritance. Thomas would have wanted you to have it as a way of saying thanks for stepping in when you did. For now, Mark, remember my words well. The world may be cold and dark, but as long as there is even a single person still willing to step up, one flame left burning, the Dark will never overcome that light." Mark, frowned and turned back around, mouth half-open to ask what the Stranger meant, only to find the road empty. He paused, staring at the empty road for a long moment, before sighing in resignation. Mark turned back to the cubby, clearing its contents, then made his way back towards the path and the cave.
He arrived back at the small cave several minutes later, pausing for a moment as he let his eyes adjust to the light. Alexander, the young man he had rescued alongside the little girl, looked up at Mark with dull eyes and spoke, his voice listless and dry, half-mocking. "What? Did you forget something?" Mark looked down at the young man, a single brow raised, before noticing the fire. Despite his seemingly extended chat with the Stranger, the fire had barely dwindled, and the small pile of firewood he''d gathered looked no less full. The tired man couldn''t bring himself to question or care, though, not with so much more on his mind. Mark didn''t bother to respond to the young man''s jab, simply tossing him the apothecary kit before walking back to his place beside the fire and sliding down the wall. Alex glared at the older man but soon turned a questioning gaze towards the box in his lap. Flipping the latch open, the young man peered inside and gasped, his eyes growing wide. When he spoke, his voice trembled, forgetting even to control his volume as his head snapped towards Mark, "God''s Tear?! Where in the hell did you even...?! ... No, no, now''s not the times." Alex quickly stood and rushed over to the little girl''s side. Kneeling down beside her, the young man''s hands trembled as he began to remove items one by one from the kit. As gently as possible, he cut off the old, blood and pus-soaked bandages wrapped around the girl''s head. The stench that filled the small cave as the wound touched open air was terrible, easily overpowering the small fire. Alex gagged slightly, his face turning a shade paler as the full extent of the girl''s injury was laid bare in the firelight but soon focused. As he stared down at the poor girl, still writhing in her nightmares, his heart twisted in pain. With a look of grim determination, he set about doing his best to clean what he could. When the Forest Goblin struck her, her left eye socket had caved in, crushing the eye and leaving a massive gaping wound for the festering rot to invade. Even now, he could see poison spreading outward from the wound. Whatever it was, it wasn''t normal, he could tell that much. It wiggles and writhed under her skin like black threads, digging deeper with each passing moment. What it something Goblin had done purposefully? If so, why? Or was it just an opportunistic infection, something the vile creature had come in contact with and latched onto the girl when the chance presented itself? Alex didn''t know, and he didn''t have the skillset to tell. The young man worked quickly as he did his best to clean out as much of the pus and rotting flesh as he could; God''s Tear was powerful even in its raw form, but he didn''t have the equipment to properly process it. The more he could physically do, the greater the girl''s chances. Mark watched on in silence, his face blank, eyes quietly reflecting the fire beside him. After several tense moments of work, Alex was finally satisfied he''d done everything he could to prepare. His hands slightly trembling, the young man lifted the blue stalked plant from the box. With a quick snip of a small pair of scissors, he separated the glowing berry cluster and wrapped it in a thin layer of gauze. Alex paused, closing his eyes as he whispered a quiet, desperate plea, then squeeze the clothe wrapped cluster with all his strength. His hands shook in effort for a few seconds before the bundle gave a small pop, and the clothe caved slightly. The cloth turned color as a light blue liquid slowly seeped from the exposed end, dripping gently into the girl''s open wound. Mark''s eyes widened in surprise as each drop seemed to spontaneously burst into shining blue flames on contact with the air. Even more surprising, as each tiny drop of flaming liquid landed on the girl''s wound, the flames began to spread like an oil fire, yet the girl didn''t seem hurt in the slightest. To the contrary, wherever the flame touched, the rot and pus seemed to burn away into nothing, leaving clean, raw flesh in its wake. Alex heaved a sigh of relief as he watched the flames move slowly under the girl''s skin, eating away even at the hidden rot in her veins. This strain of God''s Tear must have been extremely potent for being so powerful, even unprocessed. A small part of him wondered how much a medical plant like this must have cost, even in Grandeur, and he shivered. The flames continued to spread across the girl''s wound, eating away at the rot and decay before they slowly dimmed, leaving a slight afterglow under her skin. As even the glow faded, Merry''s breath, once ragged and wet, began to calm, softening into the slow, peaceful rhythm of a dreamless slumber. Alex chuckled lightly before falling backward, letting out a deep laugh. Despite his aching body, a large grin split his face from ear to ear, and tears of relief slowly fell from his eyes as he lay on his back. The young man pulled himself together after a moment and pushed himself back to a sitting position. The most girl was out of immediate danger, but she wasn''t home free yet. God''s Tear was famous for its ability to purge toxins and decay, but it left the body weak, and the girl still had a significant wound. Luckily the apothecary''s kit was well stocked with both tools and supplies. Alex worked feverishly preparing and dressing the girl''s wound. He finished just before dawn, as the sky was just beginning to brighten, welcoming in a new day. Finishing his work, the young man stood on shaking legs, slapping them lightly to return the blood flow. He turned towards the opposite wall to find Mark sitting in the same spot he had all night long, eyes bloodshot, large, dark bags under his eyes. Despite his... prickly words from earlier in the night, the man had stayed awake the entire night, ensuring that the fire never so much as dimmed and Alex had the light to work by. Alex walked over to his sleeping roll and laid down his weary head. Before the gentle embrace of sleep took him, the young man called out, chuckling lightly. "Hehe. So, who''s crack did you pull that one from?" Chapter 8: A Bug in the System [Part 1] Mark squinted at the soft light of morning streaming through the cave entrance, rubbing his sore, bloodshot eyes. With a heavy sigh, he leaned his pounding head up against the cool stone wall of the cave and slowly closed his eyes, quickly drifting off to blissful sleep. He awoke an unknown time later to the quiet whimpering of the small girl as she slept. Mark stood, his body stiff, painful from the awkward position, and slowly walked to her side. The girl still appeared pale in the early morning light, but not the sickly pale of approaching death she had been just a few hours ago. The sweet scent of decay had also faded from the shallow cave, replaced with the smell of burning wood and morning dew. Mark sat down beside the little girl and stared, a frown on his face as he watched the girl twist and turn in her sleep. She was obviously doing much better, but she was still a 7-year-old girl with a wound that would put even a grown man in the hospital. They needed to get her to an actual Doctor soon, or things would only regress. The man sighed once more and stood, gently patting the young girl on the head. As he did, Merry''s brow furrowed, and her small, delicate hands shot out as quick as a whip, latching his own. Mark flinched, pulling away, but the girl held on with surprising strength, whimpering, as a single tear trailing out of her unbandaged eye. The older man paused, his frown growing deeper, shocked at how deathly cold their girl''s hands were despite the sweat beading on her forehead. He pinched the bridge of his nose before settling back down next to the girl, gently closing his rough, calloused hand over their girls, his hand large enough to enclose both. After several moments, Merry''s shivering shopped, and after several more, her tears dried as well. Soon, the cave was filled with the soft sound of her calm breathing. Mark gently released the girl''s hands, placing them on top of her chest, and touched her forehead. While not gone, her fever had loosened its grip slightly, but she still had a long way to go. He stood, turning towards the sleeping figure of Alex, the young man dead to the world. Fair enough, he figured; the man had spent the day traveling on horseback, then fought off several combatants, before staying up the entire night to treat the little girl. Guess that meant he was on watch. Mark gathered up his stuff and moved towards the front of the cave, sitting on a large boulder near the entrance. He stared out into the dawn, listening to the early morning sounds of the forest as it began to awaken. His mind began to drift back to just a few hours ago and the meeting with the Stranger. Mark wasn''t embarrassed to admit he barely understood anything the man had said; all this talk of alternate realities and dying worlds had totally gone over his head. What little he did honestly chilled his soul... He''d spent all his life following the orders of others; a soldier did not think; he only went where he was sent and did what he was told. Killed who he was told. Yet, despite all of his struggles, all of his sacrifices, what did it amount to in the end? Thrown away, tossed aside like a broken tool. Not even able to help the few people he''d promised to. Mark''s shoulders slumped as if a heavyweight pressed down on him. The light of dawn cast a deep shadow over his face as his knuckles began to turn white as they gripped the handle of the sheathed, rusty sword. As the dark clouds stirred around inside Mark''s heart and mind, a small blue box popped into existence in front of him,
SYSTEM TUTORIAL PROGRAM INITIATED, WOULD HOST LIKE TO CONTINUE?
[Yes] [No]
Mark stared at the box with a frown, already feeling another headache creeping up on his. He''d been so overwhelmed with everything that had happened recently, he''d totally forgotten about the Stranger''s parting "Gift." While he was reluctant to use anything that man gave him, Mark wasn''t stupid either. He recognized that his greatest weakness at the moment was a lack of knowledge. He gave a tired sigh and clicked the "Yes" button.
CONFIRMED, ASSIGNING SYSTEM ASSISTANT TO HOST. PLEASE STAND BY.
A cold mechanical voice echoed in his head, and the small window flashed with the bright light before disappearing. In that instant, something truly magical began to happen. The morning sunlight filtering through the thin forest mist began to twist and swirl, swimming through the air like liquid gold. The narrow rivers of light slowly flowed together until they condensed at a singular point in front of the cave. The tiny point of light grew with each passing moment as more and more light pooled into it until it reached the size of a tennis ball. Mark stretched out his free hand and gently poked the little ball of light, feeling a soft give, as if made from cotton. The ball of light quivered slightly like gelatin before snapping to its original shape, giving a high-pitched hum as if in aggravation. Mark smirked at the strange little thing, poking it again, a little harder. The little ball of light went tumbling through the air before suddenly reversing speed and shooting towards Mark with surprising speed. Mark''s eyes went wide, and he took a step back, but the light ball stopped on a dime only an inch or two from his face, seemingly ignoring the laws of Inertia. It quivered angrily in the air, bouncing back and forth, pulsing in dim red light, as if saying thing something in words Mark could not hear. Mark''s wide eyes squinted as he gave another smirk and reached up to poke it again... The ball of light, seeing Mark''s hand rise, backed away. It stopped a few feet away and began to quiver and hum even louder but stayed just out of reach. After a moment of humming rage, the light ball started zooming around the cave as if looking for something.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. A few moments passed before it stopped near a patch of hanging vines at the front of the cave. It gave a reluctant hum before it dashed into the vines. The vines shook and stirred, as if alive, before something flew out at high speeds, followed close behind by the little ball of light. The black blur was fast, but the little ball of light was faster, and as it chased it unknown blur around the room, it slowly gained on it, like a hawk tailing its prey. The two''s extremely high speeds and quick turns prevented Mark from catching a glimpse of the creature''s form. When the ball of light finally struck the black blur, the two were sent crashing to the ground, tumbling for several yards. Having watched the entire confrontation in silence, Mark was finally able to make out the shape of the flying creature. There, wrestling with the ball of light near the cave''s back wall, was a massive beetle. Mark could only stare at the creature in shock; it was huge, a size larger than the Titan Beetles on Earth, but its shape and bulk were closer to that of a Rhinoceros Beetle. Its shell was a vibrant dark green, and it glistened in the morning light in a way that would put any gem to shame. However, the most striking feature of the beetle was the huge "horn" on its head. The blade-like horn was easily 4-5 inches long; Mark could tell from a glance that it was hard as iron and insanely sharp, like a small dagger growing from the beetle''s head. Mark broke out in cold sweat as he thought about that "horn" and the speed at which the beetle had been flying. He did not know what this thing was, but he instantly knew that it was dangerous. Very dangerous. Mark watched as the beetle and the ball of light struggled, wary but unable to take his eyes away from the strange slight. Suddenly, the beetle buck, tossing the light ball away with a squeak. The beetle began to then spin around, clearly agitated and looking for more opponents. The beetle''s tiny eyes fell on Mark, and it gave an aggravated clicking sound as though to vent its frustrations. Mark''s eyes went wide as he saw the jewel-like shell raise up and the beetle spread its wings, its thorax raising in the air, its wings blurring as the beetle readied itself to charge. However, the beetle never got the chance; the moment before it launched itself at Mark, the small ball of light slammed into the beetle, sending it tumbling once more. Mark raised an eyebrow as he watched the small ball of light and the strange beetle roll around on the ground, the beetle desperately trying to separate itself while the ball of light slowly surrounded it. The little ball of light wrapped around the beetle-like an amoeba devouring its prey, and the beetle''s struggle began to weaken before finally ceasing altogether. Finally enveloped the beetle entirely, the little ball of light began to pulse slowly up and down as if breathing. The glowing light seemed to shrink tighter and tighter around the beetle''s form with each rise and fall before dissolving into its body entirely. After a moment, all that was left was the motionless body of the beetle. Mark watched on with bated breath when suddenly the huge beetle gave a jerk, its body twitching several times. Mark looked around in a panic, searching for anything he could use as a shield or weapon, when a tiny high-pitched yawn reached his ears. Mark''s eyes went wide in shock as he looked over and saw something strange. Where the beetle should have been now stood a small "person," only slightly bigger than the beetle, pushing itself up from its knees. The small person looked around the cave in a daze, its eye''s slightly dreary as though just waking from a dream, before landing on Mark. The small person stared in silence for a moment before its eyes went wide, its face red. It jumped into the air, the large green shell on its back opening wide as the thin wings gave a light hum. The small person flew towards Mark''s face at a speed he could barely follow, though even if he could, Mark was in such shock that he wouldn''t have even reacted. "You! You, You, YOU! Where do you think you get off poking this Young Lady?!" The small person spoke, thrust out its small hand, and poked Mark in the nose several times, each time moving slightly closer. This close, Mark could finally the tiny person''s face. His mouth slowly hung open as he stared silently at the small person in front of his eyes; although her face was bright red in anger and her cheeks were puffed out with air, he could still make out the profile of a young girl, no more than 11-12 years old. Her face was striking but not overly so, more cute than beautiful. Her snow-white skin stood in stark contrast to her long black hair that reached slightly past her shoulders. Her eyes, though round in anger, were a vibrant emerald. On her body, she wore a jet black set of leather Armor like one might see in a medieval reenactment; the chest, arms, legs, and other places plated on top with a bright green metallic substance that glistened in the light. Though currently raised as a pair of thin, transparent wings beat rapidly in flight, her back was covered in a huge green shell, apparently made of the same stuff as the plating on her Armor. Strapped to one side of the shell was a long Naginata tipped with the Beetle''s Horn. Though to Mark, this blade would have been nothing more than a Fruit Knife, he could not help but shiver as it gave off a cold glint in the morning light. The tiny girl, frustrated at Mark''s inattention, dropped her arms to her side before huffing and bending forward to stare him in the eye, her own still wide and her face fuming. "Well?!" Mark blinked and shook his head as if to dispel an illusion. He looked back at the tiny girl flying in front of his nose, the shock and fear in his eyes replaced by confusion. He tilted his head and lifted his free hand out as if to poke her and spoke with a low voice, "What are you?" Mark felt a sting from his finger as a sudden flash of light swept past him before he yelped and quickly pulled his finger back. He looked down at his finger but saw no visible wound until a thin line of red slowly formed. The tiny flying girl looked at Mark with cold eyes before speaking in a neutral tone, "I told you. Do not think you can touch me, Human". Mark could feel his blood run cold as he looked at the tiny Naginata she held in her hands. She was fast. Stupidly fast. Mark had specialized in hand-to-hand combat while in the military, and while he would not go so far as to say he was the best, he had absolute confidence in his eyes. Yet, he''d barely been able to see her movement. Otherwise, he''d have lost the finger entirely. Mark had no doubt in his mind that the blade would have passed through his bone like it was air; the blade was that sharp. The tiny flying girl placed her weapon back on her shell before crossing her arms and looking down her nose at Mark, before sneering in a proud voice, "But since you ask Human, This Young Lady will tell you! Rejoice, for you stand in the presence of The Great Manifestation of Nature! The Queen of Earth and Wind! Master of the Land! The Great Magi Spirit, Tsutsuji!¡± Mark stared in silence at the young girl who called herself Tsutsuji, as a light wind blew through the cave entrance, kicking up a bit of dust, before grabbing his stomach then bending over and letting out a light laugh, not being able to hold it in any longer. "Hahahahhahahaha" Chapter 9: A Bug in the System [Part 2] The tiny girl, Tsutsuji, looked down at Mark, her face red and cheeks poofed out like a child might when frustrated with a stubborn adult. "What?! Why are you laughing at this Great One?! Do you not know who I am?! You should be in Reverence! REVERENCE!" After a moment, Mark finally managed to pull himself together before wiping away a tear. He''d not laughed that hard in a few years. He shook his head and looked at the tiny girl with a smirk. He did not know who or what a Magi Spirit was, but he did know what a Tsutsuji was. It was the name of a flower from Earth. A Subspecies of the Azalea, they were a common enough flower and popular with home gardeners. His mother had a small bush she''d tended to for years before a freak storm had destroyed her garden (and half the neighborhood.) According to her, the Azalea stood for temperance and fragility in the language of flowers, with the Tsutsuji in particular also holding the meanings of patient and modesty. Maybe whoever had named the little girl has wished that she would grow into these same Virtues. Or maybe they just had a sense of humor. Mark didn''t really care either way, but strangely enough, the little girl didn''t seem so strange or threatening as she had just a moment ago. He crossed his arms and raised a brow as he looked up at the flying girl and asked, a smile in his voice. "Ok, little Tsutsuji, let''s assume I know what kind of bug a Magi Spirit is. Where did you come from? More importantly, why are you here? Little girls shouldn''t be wandering around the forest alone." Tsutsuji''s face darkened another shade as a tiny vein throbs on her head. With a glint of light off metal, the little girl drew the tiny naginata, swinging it wildly in Mark''s face. The man scoffed, easily dodging each blow with a simple twist of his body. The girl was fast, but now that Mark knew what to watch for, he could tell she was still an amateur. She swung the polearm around with the form of someone who thought they knew it should be used but had never been formally trained. Or like some hobbyist swinging swords around in their basement the way they''d seen on an anime. The girl''s blind rage and small size made avoiding the attacks even easier. As she continued her fruitless assault, she screamed out in a high-pitched voice. "B-bug!? Bug! Whose fault do you think it is that I''m stuck in this Vessel! If you''d let me be, I could have taken my time, but NoOoOoO! You just had to go and touch this Young Lady with your grubby fingers!" Mark laughed again. He didn''t know why it was so much fun teasing this little creature. Maybe it was just the pent-up stress of the past few days. Or maybe it was just how much she reminded him of another little girl, one he''d not thought of for years. Though he guessed she''d not be so little anymore... As old memories once more clouded Mark''s thoughts, Tsutsuji''s eyes flashed; there! An opening! Like lightning, she struck, rushing forward to poke Mark''s nose with the sharp object, a crazed smile cracking her face. But at the last moment, Mark''s hand shot up, grabbing onto the tiny flying girl by her feet and pulling her down several inches. Tsutsuji slammed her eyes shut and squeaked at the sudden shift of momentum, dropping her weapon. When she opened her eyes, she was dangling upside down by her feet, a few inches from Mark''s face. Mark chuckled, twirling her naginata between his fingers like a pocket knife, and gave the little girl another mocking grin. Tsutsuji could only flail her arms and wings helplessly as she dangled by her feet, trying to strike him or grab at her captured weapon. "S-stop! Give it back, give that back right now! Where do you get off attacking this Young Lady like this!?" Mark looked down his nose at the flailing girl and humphed. "Now, what makes you think someone in your position should be making demands? Besides, I distinctly remember you attacking me first."The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Mark''s grin widened as Tsutsuji blushed, turning her head away as if to say ''I don''t know what you are talking about''. Mark leaned closer to the girl''s face, their noses almost touching as he spoke, all cheer vanishing in an instant. When he spoke next, a dangerous light shown from his eyes. "I''ll ask you one more time. Who are you? What did you come here for?" Tsutsuji gulped down as the tiny Naginata in Mark''s hand stopped spinning and pointed straight at the young girl''s throat. ________________________________________ A short while later, Mark sat near a small fire, his legs and arms crossed as he stared down at the tiny girl in front of him. Tsutsuji sat on a small rock in a practiced seiza position, silently looking at the ground, not daring to meet the man''s eyes. As he mentally went over what the little girl had told him over the past hour, he felt another headache coming on. He gently rubbed his temples and sighed. According to the girl, she was a "Spirit of the Magi," a fundamental force of nature in this world. In simple terms, she was a "Will" born from the collective intentions of the Magi. Specifically, she was a subspecies of Magi Spirit call a "Guide." Guides acted as the voice of the Magi, directing and instructing other beings on the Magi''s will. Guide''s duties varied from Guide to Guide, but each was critical to the natural flow and Order of the world. Mark couldn''t help but think that if the other Guides were similar to the one in front of him, this world''s average blood pressure must be very high. Tsutsuji''s presently assigned duty was to act as Mark''s instructor and assistant in the System tutorial, answering any questions and concerns that he may have. Mark moaned, genuinely beginning to regret selecting YES, as he nursed his growing headache. When he finally opened his eyes, Mark looked down at the little girl and asked, "So, what now?" The Guide kept her face pointed towards the ground as she mumbled something, not daring to meet the man''s eyes. Mark gave a heavy sigh and growled to her in an impatient voice, "What? What is it? Speak up and don''t mumble when you''re asked a question." Tsutsuji turned her face up, though her eyes were on the verge of tears as she turned away, still not looking the man in the face. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, "I-I have a message for y-you." She quickly reached into the space between her back and shell, producing a ''large'' (for her) white marble cube flecked with gold, about half the size of her head. She placed the cube on the ground, and it gave a slight shake before quickly breaking down into fine glistening sand. The sand mixed with the surrounding stone and dirt as though it had a mind of its own, quickly forming into the shape of a person, roughly the size of Tsutsuji. The Earthen person moved on its own, reaching out to tap the air as if fiddling with something that Mark could not see, then it spoke in a loud voice. Mark frowned as he listened; the voice was instantly recognizable as the voice of the Stranger. ["Hello? This thing working? Blasted contraption, why did I ever program these things in. Mark, if you''re seeing this message, then the Tutorial program has been activated, and you''ve made contact with Tsutsuji. First off, let me apologize for her behavior. She can be a little fireball, so be careful not to get burned".] Tsutsuji''s eyes went wide, her face turning cherry red. She squeaked out in indignation, her tiny wings beating the air as she stood. "H-hey!" The Earthen Stranger with a wide grin. ["First off, I wanted to explain a little about The System, what its purpose is, and the nature of this world. As you are already aware, this is not your world. Or rather, it is better to say this is what your world COULD have been. One pivoting point of this world is the existence called Magi. What are the Magi? Well, it starts long, long ago. When the world was still young, it was very similar to your own. ALL worlds share the same history, up to a certain point. Creation, a Garden, a Fall. Everything started there, at that moment, when the first ''Choice'' was made. THIS world pivots on the destruction of the Lesser King, the Celestial body that your world would come to call the ''Moon.'' The Moon''s function wasn''t just to light up the night sky; it played an essential role in the world''s natural order. Its influence moved land and sea, called the tides and the wind. Its pull even affected the growth and direction that Life would take over the Eons. With its destruction and the splitting of the Skyshards, while not erased, its influence was greatly weakened. A Great Stone can support a Great burden, but when that stone is broken into pieces, that support is no longer stable. With the weakening of the Moon''s influence, the world was thrown into chaos and destruction. There was a need to replace that lost influence to bring Order back from chaos. Thus, the Magi were born. The Magi, in terms you would understand, are something similar to Organic Nanobots; microscopic bio-machines designed to "mimic" the influence and power that was lost. Alone, a single Magi cannot do much, but just as the trillions of cells make up your body, the countless Magi scattered through the world have the power to influence and reshape reality. Thus, they have become a cornerstone of the world, bringing order and becoming a fundamental law of nature. You might ask yourself, ''Ok, so what? What does that have to do with me?'' Well, it is first necessary to understand how the Magi work before you can understand the System. I am sure by now, you''ve noticed your new Ink? Yes?"¡­.] Chapter 10: A Bug in the System [Part 3] Mark squinted at the Earthern Stranger, his hand moving to touch the strange Tattoo he''s awoken with. "I know it''s a troupe to wake up with new ink after a wild night, but typically people don''t appreciate it when it''s a stranger who does it..." The tiny beetle girl coughed into her hand but quickly averted her eyes when Mark snapped his head in her direction, brow furrowed. Undeterred, Earthen Stranger continued, ["THAT is a ''Sigil.'' It''s an integral part of this world; every living thing (and some not so much) here bears one. While not quiiiiiite the same, you could call them ''Living Supercomputers,'' and not be totally wrong. Suffice to say, they are an indispensable part of life. More importantly, the Sigil authorizes one to ''program'' the Magi. These ''commands'' take many forms. Abilities, Mutations... Magic. They are all a result of the Magi''s power to shape the world. Of course, there are limitations and stipulations involved; we can''t have people simply changing the nature of the world on a whim. First off, Magi require ''energy'' to perform their functions. Magi in nature draw their energy collectively, and because they are ''maintaining the status quo, the energy required is minimal. BUT, if a Sigil gives a ''command'' to the Magi that goes AGAINST that status quo, it must first provide the energy needed. And the farther this command deviates from the established natural order, the greater the demand. For a living organism, this energy is taken from the host''s own biological energy. This ''Metabolic Power,'' or MP as it''s typically called (Yes, yes, I know), is literally the chemical energy stored in your body. The Magi can extract and refine this energy to the extreme far more efficiently than your own flesh bag of a body."] Mark raised an eye at that. He was never one of those people who found the more complex sciences interesting. He''d passed his classes, yes, but never bothered to delve deeper. Even then, he understood that the Human body was nowhere near perfectly efficient. Not only did it fail to absorb everything it could from the food it ate, but between converting, storing, and utilizing that energy, a lot was lost as well. Just how advanced were these ''Magi'' if they were able to tap into that unused potential? As he mused on these thoughts, the strange didn''t stop. ["Secondly, the ''programs '' that can be given are per-constructed. Typically these programs take several forms, but the two most common are ''Skills'' and ''Spells.'' The difference is how they do what they do. This is a simplified explanation, and you''ll come to understand things better as you travel and learn, but to put it simply; ''Skills'' command ''Internal Magi,'' the Magi who have settled in your body, while ''Spells'' command ''Core Magi,'' the Magi who have settled into nature."] Mark raised his brow, unsure if he understood what was being said. But when he opened his mouth to ask, Tsutsuji was the one who answered. "Think of the Magi as microorganisms. They can be found everywhere and in every environment. That includes inside other beings. And Just like microorganisms, Magi will adapt to the environment they settle in. Magi who settle in the sea will better at moving water, controlling the tides and currents. Magi in the earth can better improve fertility or stabilize the land. And the Magi in a person''s body are attuned to that person, allowing them to make full use of their skills and improving their overall health. The average lifespan of a human in this world is roughly 250 years. And that''s BEFORE upgrading their Sigil." Mark''s eyes bulged at this revelation, but before he could comment, the Stranger once more cut him off, oblivious to the man''s surprise. ["Don''t be discouraged though, there are as many different programs in existence as there are stars in the Sky. It''s simply a matter of discovering them. Think of it as a fail-safe. The Magi can do many miraculous things, but humans have a history of abusing the gifts given to them, as I''m sure you understand.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Now, the System is a very ''Special'' program that I''ve created just for you, and others like you, to help you *coughandthereaderscough* better assimilate to this new world. If anything, you can think of the System as this world''s very own ''Internet''; it''s a program that Links together every Sigil and Magi into one huge interconnected network. This allows you to pull out information that you would otherwise not even know you don''t know. By the way, it''s also the reason you can communicate with the people of this world; your Sigil automatically translates the words spoken in your head and sends the meaning of the words you speak through the System and to the other parties Sigil, translating for them as well. Natives of this world don''t have access to the System the same way you do, but you''ll learn more about that later. It''s up to you whether or not you disclose this, but be careful. Not everyone will have your best intentions at heart. That being said, the System isn''t almighty. Just like the Internet of Earth does not have everything, certain information will not be available to you. Specifically, anything that isn''t in the ''database,'' the collective Sigil information storage, and personal information that the person isn''t willing to provide, such as their bank pin or body measurements. Though if this information is publicly open or something that can be inferred, you may get lucky. Specific Skills may also allow you to catch a glimpse at this personal information, but these are exceptions to the rule. Lastly, I wanted to talk about your own Sigil. As a human of earth, you weren''t born with a Sigil, so think of this one as another gift. The name of your Sigil is ''Survivor.'' While it''s not unique, it''s still very special. It embodies my desire for you to grow and survive in this new world, to bring change and stir things up. At its most basic, think of it like a ''healing factor''; any damage that you take will cause your body to rapidly recover and at the same time become stronger than it was before. There are other functions and secrets to it as well, but where would the fun be if I told you all that from the get-go? For now, you simply need to do what you wish and go where your feet take you. Be warned, though, while you are now much harder to kill than you were before, you are not immortal; losing a limb or two is fine, but severe damage will still debilitate you for some time. And any attack that could kill you instantly will not be recoverable. Survivor also follows the laws of the Magi; if you run out of MP, you''ll be no more challenging to kill than any other normal man. Remember Mark, I''ll be watching you. Make things interesting for me, if you can"] With a smile and a wave of the hand, the Earthen Stranger collapsed back into a pile of sand. Mark looked down at the glittering pile and ground his teeth, his mouth twitching. What the hell was that?! Who simply dumps all of that on someone and vanishes? Swallowing his frustration, Mark gave a deep sigh and leaned up against the cave wall. Tsutsuji gave a sigh herself as she stood and brushed off the dust on her legs. Then with a quiet voice, still not willing to look Mark in the eye, she spoke, "W-well now that, that is over, do you have questions or¡­.." Before Tsutsuji could finish her words, the little pile of sand sprang back to form, and the Earthen Stranger spoke again. ["Oh! That reminds me! I have one more thing to mention. I am afraid that I''m going to have to put Tsutsuji on probation for a little while. She''s been warned before to curve her temper. I''d like to ask Mark to watch after her for a bit until other arrangements can be made. Take care of her well, and sorry for the trouble!"] The two stared in shock at the Earthen Stranger as he held his palms together and made a slight bow to Mark before snapping his fingers. Tsutsuji gave a small squeak, and a tiny grain of light flew out of her chest towards Mark, passing through his clothes, before hitting the Sigil on his chest. Mark''s eyes grew wide as he felt the Sigil go slightly warm and pulse with light under his clothes. The next moment, He was suddenly aware of some form of link between Himself and the tiny Guide girl; while it could not be called reading her mind exactly, it was as if he was infinitely aware of her, able to perceive her intentions and her emotions, her confusion and anger and fear and doubt all wrapped in one. Tsutsuji seemed to become aware of the connection at the same time. She stared at Mark with wide eyes, then turned to the Earthen Stranger, pleading as her tears to well up. "Wait! Please, Master No! Anyone but Him!" Mark spoke at the same time, "Wait a moment, I never agreed to th¡­." The Earthen Stranger''s form started to quiver as he hastily spoke, ["Whoops, went overtime. Sorry, this is just a Recording; I can''t answer you. Well, have a good day!!"] Before collapsing again into a pile of sand. Tsutsuji, in shock, fell to her knees, both palms on the cold stone ground as she gave out a loud cry, ¡°Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo!¡± Mark too cursed out at the pile of sand, "Wait, don''t just pretend like you are a recording! Come back here, you Son of a ------!" Mark''s mouth slammed shut of its own volition before he could utter the last word, leaving the only sounds in the cave the flowing of the small stream, the snoring of the two who''s slept through the commotion and gentle sobbing of a tiny girl as she lay in a puddle of tears. Ways of the World – Part 1? Mark poked at the fire''s remains with a long stick, looking for any remaining embers he could use to relight the fire and start breakfast. Finding only cold, dead ash, he sighed and stood, reaching up to stretch his sore, tired muscles. Grumbling, the man poked around the gathered supplied, looking for anything he could use to rekindle the campfire, when his eyes landed on the small figure of the "Guide," Tsutsuji. The little ''girl'' lay huddled into a ball, not far from where Merry slept, blissfully unaware of their new guest. The Magi Spirit had not stopped sobbing for several hours, refusing even to acknowledge Mark''s annoyed pokes and prods. He''d been tempted more than once during the last few hours of the night, so simply toss her out of the cave. At least then, he might have gotten some sleep. But their new empathic link left him... well, not sympathetic, but at least hesitant, and a little understanding. Luckily, the little Guide had cried herself to sleep a few hours before dawn, letting Mark get some much-needed rest. The man shook his eyes before turning back towards the cold campfire, quickly lighting it once more with a small flint kit he''d found in the supplies they''d pulled off Thomas and Martha''s carriage. Soon, the small cave was filled with the smell of a light stew. It didn''t take long for the little Guide''s dreaming mumbles to stop as the stew''s light scent washed over her. A few moments later, the quiet morning''s silence was broken by a soft rumble. The little Guide tensed up but still refused to turn around or acknowledge her surroundings as if pretending to be still asleep. Mark smirked, a lightbulb going off in his head. He looked down at the tiny Guide and asked. "Hey, Bug. That crazy Guy mentioned ''Magic,'' right? Know any Breakfast Magic? Hahahah!" Tsutsuji looked up at Mark''s words, her face red as she yelled at him in her high-pitched voice. "I''m not a Bug! And you will be respectful when you speak of Master! Refer to him as Lord, or Lord Elaos!" She paused, her face going a shade redder as Mark stared down with a mischievous grin. Then, after a moment, she turned her eyes away and lifted her nose and continued with a humph. "Besides that, of course, I know magic..." She stood up, pointing a tiny finger towards Mark, "¡­..but who do you think I am? I''m not your servant!" Mark raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. "Wait... so there really is breakfast magic?!" Tsutsuji gave a mocking laugh. "Of course not, you Peon. The proper term is Culinary Magic, and any travel should have at least a basic understanding of it. Though then again, I''d not expect someone like YOU to know that." Mark narrowed his eyes and frowned, "And who''s fault is that, little miss ''Guide''?" The little Guide coughed into her hand, her face now red as a cherry. "Fine! To use Culinary Magic, you first must learn the Rank-I ''Passive Skill'' [Basic Core Magi Command] and the Rank-II'' Passive Skill'' [Lifestyle Index]. Those make up the Core Programs for the Rank-II'' Active Skill'' [Culinary Magic]. Once you''ve done that, it''s as simple as..." With a snap of her fingers, an invisible wind blew through the cave. The unfelt wind swept up all of the dust and sand on the cave floor into multiple, tiny, dusty cyclones. The spinning cyclones began shrinking visibly before the largest condensed into a small, low table, able to seat three people comfortably. The smaller ones condensed into a variety of earthen dishware. As the unseen wind stopped, the little Guide stood with her nose in the air, hands on her hips, a grin spreading across her face. Mark stared at the scene with wide eyes, feeling both amazed... and a bit disappointed... "Is that it?" The Magi Spirit visibly deflated. "What do you mean, ''is that it''?! I''ll have you know [Culinary Magic] is one of the most developed Skills in the world! Despite only being a Rank-II skill, it can disinfect and prepare ingredients, shape tools and utensils, and has several handy tools like timers and guides! A Master Chef even managed to integrate a message board into the skill a decade back, where Travelers and Chefs worldwide can help identify new ingredients or share recipes! The skill consistently makes it into the Order of Heroes'' ''Top 10 Skills every Trailblazer should have'' yearly list!" Mark just stared down at the tiny person with a blank look as if he hadn''t understood half of what she had just said. Tsutsuji gave a heavy sigh and put her hands on her face. "Well, I guess I should have expected that... I expected too much from a..." Her words were cut off as a glint of metal flashed in the firelight. The miniature Guide yelped before jumping backward, just as something embedded itself in the ground in front of her. Tsutsuji stared at her naginata, still ringing from the force of the impact. She pulled the weapon from the stone as smoothly as if it was in butter... only to find actual butter coating the blade. Her eyes wide and mouth hanging open, she turned back to Mark just in time to see the man throw the last bit of a piece of buttered hardtack into his mouth. "Y-y-y-you!" She stuttered, pointing a shaking finger at the man near the campfire, a vein pulsing on the side of her head. Mark bit down on the rockhard bread with an audible crack that echoed through the cave, causing the tiny girl to flinch. Tsutsuji coughed into her hand once more, going from cherry-red to bone pale, and turned her face away, unwilling to meet Mark''s unwavering eyes as he chewed the hard bread. "R-right, o-of course you don''t know these things. Th-that''s what I''m here for. Initiating Guided tutorial system, WS-t001: Basics." As Tsutsuji spoke, a familiar Window popped into existence in Mark''s eyes,
EXAMINE
STATUS
INVENTORY
INDEX
Tsutsuji gestured to the screen in an attempted professional manner. "This is the ''Main Menu'' of the System. While not all functions are available at the moment, the Four you see are the default settings. As Lord Elaos mentioned before, only you and your ''kind'' have access to the System in such a... convenient manner. Most other people can only do so from a Magi Shrine or with the help of specially constructed items. As an ''Ember,'' you''re free to do with this information and ability as you will. Though typically, it''s strongly discouraged to share either without restriction. This world isn''t as ... tame as Earth-Prime, and past some past Embers have met very... tragic... ends once word got out. Then again, others have become very powerful and influential as well. As the dies are cast, I suppose. Again, do as you see fit." Tsutsuji paused as if to let that information sink in before continuing. "In this basic lesson, we will go over the function of each. First, we will start with the ''Examine'' function. Examine is a function that System users, Ember or otherwise, can use to pull up information stored in the ''Collective Index,'' the data storage space of the Sigils and Magi.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. The Collective Index is the total sum of all the data collected by the Sigils over the eons, and the Examine function lets you tap into a small part of that information. Now, give it a try. Simply focus on a target and select Examine in your mind". Stared at the small girl for an awkward moment, his perpetual frown making Tsutsuji sweat. After a moment, the man broke away from his stare and looked towards one of the small rocks surrounding the firepit. --------------------------------------------------
Small Shale Rock Description: A common mineral found near rivers and streams. Processed Shale is one of the major exports of the Greater Southern Planes. Market Price: 1w/10oz
-------------------------------------------------- Mark raised a brow at the little Window, surprised and intrigued, before turning his gaze towards several other objects around the cave. --------------------------------------------------
Star Moss Description: This bright green-yellow moss grows in dark environments with access to starlight and shardlight, such as cave entrances or Tree hollows. On nights of a dark Shard, Star Moss will glow brightly when the shardlight is as its faintest, lighting up the darkness. Some theorize that this light attracts flying insects, which it traps with a sticky substance. It then uses this prey to supplement the lost shardlight. It''s prized by Chemists and Alchemists as a basic Catalyst, making it a popular target for Gatherers or new Adventurers. Market Price: 10w/oz
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Rockhound Merchant Bag Description: High-Quality leather backpack made from Rockhound leather. Its strong, elastic, and durable nature makes it one of the best on the market, able to store and transport nearly anything. Market Price: 10,000w
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~~~~~~~~~~£¼Status£¾~~~~~~~~~~~
Guide No.77239 Race: Magi Spirit Birthplace: Grandeur Age: NO! Bio: ¡°I''m not a Bug!¡±
-------------------------------------------------- Tsutsuji looked up at Mark and stuck her tongue out before answering his unasked question, "As you can see, even other people are not exempt from Examine''s power. However, the available information for viewing is limited to what that person is consciously willing to divulge. Keep in mind, while only Embers can directly use the Examine function outside of a Magi Shrine, SOME items can mimic its effects, such as the famous ''Mirror of Truth'' do exist. However, these tend to be limited in scope. Some skills may gather more information (though still less than an Ember), but the people who use such a method are rarely pleasant." Mark stopped the girl there with an outstretched hand. "Wait, so everything is recorded by the Sigils? That seems like some major Big Brother crap right there..." The little Guide shook her head. "Yes, and No. The Magi are in constant communication with each other. They have to be to regulate nature itself as they do. Sigils play a part in that, as they act as storage devices for the information their Hosts gather through their lives. Hosts can both ''upload'' this data and access data uploaded in the past at a Magi Shrine. In turn, as an incentive, this ''experience'' can be used to unlock more functions and authority in their Sigils. The more a person experiences, discovers, and learns in their life, the faster their Sigils will grow. Everyone wins. This is why Adventures and Trailblazers are among the most popular professions globally, no matter the race or nation. HOWEVER, this also means that information that''s no longer available, for whatever reason, won''t show up, Ember or not. If there''s no record of an event or the item has never been recorded by a Sigil, Examine won''t give anything past basic information." Mark''s eyes lit up at the mention of Adventures. Who didn''t dream as a kid about exploring the unknown, seeing things for the first time, going places you''d never been? It was one of the reasons He''d joined the Army in the first place; that promise of that adventure. The little guild continued. "While we are on the topic, try using Examine on yourself. Alternately, you can select the ''status'' option in the main menu." Mark followed the instructions and attempted to focus on himself before using Examine. He furrowed his brow as he looked at the large screen that popped into existence.
~~~~~~~~~~~£¼Status£¾~~~~~~~~~~~
Mark Floyd Race: Human Age: 35 Active Sigil: Survivor Sigil Level: 2 ACTIVE SKILLS: [Survivor''s Will](III) PASSIVE SKILLS: [Healing Factor](II) ¨C [Military Survival] ¨C [Kajukenbo (2nd degree)] ¨C [MCMAP (1st degree)] ¨C [Sturdy Footwork](II) ¨C [Balistic Weapons] ¨C [Long Weapons] ¨C [Swordmenship](II) UNIQUE SKILLS: [Ember][???] ¨C [From the Ashes][V]
As Mark stared at the Window in shock, taking in the information "The screen that you see is your personal ''Status''. In essence, it is a digital representation of your body created from the information gathered by your Sigil. In the original drafts of the System, we even digitized user''s physical ''stats'' and characteristics. Stuff like strength, dexterity, and endurance. But calculating all of that took up way too much of a Sigil''s processing power, as well as not being very accurate to a biological body''s constantly fluctuating condition. There was also the nasty side-effect of people putting more value into numbers than their skill and abilities. Sure, someone with 50 ''Strength'' might POTENTIALLY be more potent than someone with 30, but with the proper technique and knowledge, simple numbers can easily be made obsolete. It took a few decades for QA to figure out that a more straightforward system worked better for everyone." Mark couldn''t help but raise an eyebrow at that. Why did it feel so oddly... familiar? "Your Sigil level is an important number to pay attention to. Not only does the Sigil level indicate how well you have adapted to its use, but the level of ''Authorization'' you have when giving commands to the Magi. Thus the higher your level, the more varied and powerful the Skills you will have access to. Not only that, but as an Ember with direct access to the System, your level will automatically rise without the need to visit a Magi Shrine. Hurrah! By the way, the average level for a normal adult male your age is 12-14, with most Soldiers pressing level 20. It''s safe to say that you''re pretty lacking, hehehehe." Mark couldn''t help but frown at that. "Wait, you just said Sigil level is based on a person''s life experiences! Why the hell is mine so low then?!" Tsutsuji looked at the man like he was stupid. "Because, fool, people here are BORN with their Sigils. They''re with them for their entire lives. You just got YOURS. Of course, it wouldn''t be able to records something it wasn''t there for..." Mark didn''t have anything to respond with, instead choosing to grumble under his breath as Tsutsuji went on. "As well as increase the skills you have available, Sigils help supplement the body by boosting related parameters. Someone whose Sigil is based on production may find an increase in their dexterity and precision. In comparison, someone with a combat Sigil may find their body''s strength and flexibility increased. This effect strengthens as the Sigil''s level increases. Everyone is born with a primary ''blank'' Sigil, and they can change it to one they qualify for at a Magi Shrine. This is one function you WILL require a Magi Shrine for, as it''s not built into the System itself. Personally, I recommend keeping your own. The ''Survivor'' is a particular Sigil with some very... unpleasant requirements, as the name might suggest. As such, however, it comes with some hefty benefits you''ll come to understand as you get better at using it. If you DO choose to change it, keep in mind that there is a 3-year'' cooldown,'' so it is not something done lightly. However, you''ll retain all of the Sigil Skills and levels as these are based more around your competence in its uses, while your new Sigil level will be calculated based on your compatibility up until that point. One of the most famous examples was a powerful [Warchief] who decided to retire and become a [Sculptor]. The man dropped from level 72 to level 3. Ironically, as bad as his Sculptors were, they sold like hotcakes. Partly because of the sheer strangeness of the situation, though also partly because most people were simply terrified of the man. To each their own, I guess... Next, we''ll talk about Sk..." Mark raised his hand, using the other to massage the bridge of his nose. "Wait, Stop, Stop. I''ve not had enough sleep for all of this. Can we continue later?" The little Guide humphed "Standard Tutorial procedure is to finish all sec...." The Magi Spirit slowly wilted under the glare of the large man. "*cough* But with recent events being what they are, I''m sure it would be fine to continue at a later date..." Good thing, too, because at that moment, the young man who had been sleeping in the corner shadows, dead to the world and the chaos of the last few hours, sat up and yawned. Tsutsuji, her back to the man, gave a surprised yelp and quickly flew into the air, dashing behind Mark. She peeked out, ignoring Mark''s annoyed look, and glared suspiciously at the young Hero from behind her new meat-shield. Chapter 11: Awakening to a Nightmare Mark sat near the small fire, stirring a small iron pot filled with oatmeal and small chunks of dried fruit. He had never heard of these fruits before, but ''Examine'' ensured that they were edible. They kinda tasted like strawberries. If strawberries looked like raisins. The man sighed and looked to the side of the cave where a young man, Alex, lay sprawled out on the ground, a large red lump throbbing on his head. He''d awoken not too long ago, taken one look at the little fairy girl, screamed, turned, and proceeded to slam his head into a low-hanging stalactite. Mark just shook his head and let the man lay where he fell before getting breakfast ready. When he turned back towards the pot, he found Tsutsuji hovering over its edge, eyes gleaming, a greedy grin warping her face. After several attempts to steal a taste when she thought he wasn''t looking, Mark flipped the little bug girl away. She gave a small cry as she tumbled through the air, "Hey!" "It''s not ready. Go play with some of the cave beetles." "I''m not a Bug!" Tears fell from Tsutsuji''s eyes, her cheeks poofing out in a manner Mark had only seen in some older anime. The little Guide raced to the far wall, sulking in the shadows, repeatedly mumbling something Mark could not quite hear. Mark just ignored her, stirring the porridge, careful not to let it burn. The mellow, slightly fruity smell of porridge soon began to fill the small cave. The young man, Alex, gave a long yawn, stretching himself out as he stood. The soft rustling reached his ears; Mark turned to see Alex finally waking up. Alex slowly walked toward the campfire and sat down across from Mark, rubbing the sleep in his eyes and the growing lump on his head. "Yo, I have the strangest dream, there was this little Bug, and you were¡­.." "I said I am not a Bug!" Alex stopped mid-sentence, his eyes slowly turning towards the small figure of Tsutsuji crouching in the corner of the cave. Her tear-marked face was a bright red as she turned her head to yell at Alex, a dark and gloomy air surrounding her. Alex''s eyes bulged, his heart going zero to sixty in an instant. The young man stood, the panic in his voice rising as he spoke. "P-pixie! Quickly, kill it!" The cloud of sleep lifted from Alex''s mind, and with a practiced hand, he drew his sword. Mark moved simultaneously, standing and striking down on Alex''s sword hand with the wooden ladle, still covered in hot porridge. Alex gave a sharp yelp, dropping his sword, and gave Mark a confused look. Tsutsuji stood from her corner and flew over to Alex, stopping just short of his nose before yelling at him, a vein bulging on her head, snot and tears still on her face. "And I am not a Pixie either! I swear, do humans no longer know how to show any respect or reverence? I am a Guide. A GUIDE. G.U.I.D.E!" "A-a Guide?" "Yes, a Guide. Do you not know what that means?!" "N-no?! I mean, Y-yes?! I mean, you''re a-a spirit?!" "YES! Finally!! Do get it now?" "Y-yes? No, I mean, why is there a Magi Spirit here? Why do you look like a- " "DON''T YOU DARE SAY IT!" Mark raised an eyebrow at the two''s banter before went back to stirring the porridge. As he watched the two go back and forth, Mark wondered to himself what the "Pixie" Alex had mentioned before was. A small window suddenly popped into his vision, as if to answer his pondering,
Pixie Index Entry: Also called ¡°Fallen Ones,¡± ¡°Corrupted Spirits,¡± and ¡°Devil Wisps.¡± While the name and shape vary between cultures, they all refer to the same creature. Pixies are Malignant birthed when a Magi Spirit is corrupted by miasma. While Magi Spirits are naturally able to cleanse miasma, if the Spirit is weakened or exposed to massive amounts, a Pixie may be born. Pixies can take many forms, depending on their vessel when they were a Spirit, but every one of them is extremely dangerous and is considered to be at minimal a C-ranked threat. Adventurers are advised to take caution and report any Pixie sightings to the proper authorities.
Mark raised an eyebrow at the sudden window. Well that was .... convenient. He''d not realized he could use the "System" like this, as well. He silently filed the discovery away.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. If Mark had learned anything in the military, it was that information could mean the difference between a successful mission and death. It was a lesson many only ever got the chance to learn once... It took a moment to read through the window before he focused on another unknown word. The first window closed, and a second opened in its place.
Malignant Index Entry: Lifeforms infected by miasma. Miasma is a poison released when dead Magi are unable to be recycled back into the natural cycle. This poison can ¡°disrupt¡± the Magi in an area, causes them to become destructive and virulent. If the internal Magi of a Lifeform is disrupted, they corrupt their host, destroying their mind and mutating them into dangerous Malignant. Like a virus, Malignants only goal is to ¡°spread¡± their sickness. To this end, they will attack any uninfected life forms without warning and without regard to their own safety.
That... didn''t sound good... Well, most of them... Malignant or not, Mark knew he didn''t want to meet either again. The two continued to bicker back and forth, with Mark doing his best to block them out. Before long, the porridge was finished, and Mark stood, calling out with a smirk. "Tsutsuji, are you sure you are not a Pixie? Your tongue is poisonous enough. Stop picking on Alex and get ready to eat. Food''s done." Tsutsuji''s head snapped to the side as she gave Mark a fiery look, but still, the little Guide hovered across the cave, her angry melting into greed as she stared at the boiling pot. Still in a daze, Alex ambled over, glazed eyes staring at nothing in particular, and sat down across from Mark. Tsutsuji hummed to herself as Mark passed her a small dish filled with porridge. Mark had found the small bowl in the supplies taken from the cargo and a few other items that might come in handy later. The bowl itself wasn''t big, more likely something meant for alcohol than food, but it was quite a large portion to the tiny girl. Even still, she was asking for seconds before Mark had even filled Alex''s and his own... Mark took a small bite and nodded. Not bad. A little ''wild'' compared to what he was used to, but beggars couldn''t be choosers. After her third bowl, the tiny Guide finally gave a sigh and fell backward. She lay there for a moment before springing to the air, moving slow and low towards the bedding near where Merry lay. "Well, that was nice. I''m going to take a Nap." "Hey! Don''t just leave your mess for others!" Mark snapped out at the retreating Tsutsuji, who snuggled into the bedding, humming as though she hadn''t heard him. Mark gave a heavy sigh and shook his head. Alex, who had been mindlessly eating like a robot, gave a slight jump and stared at Mark as if he was seeing him for the first time. His voice broke slightly, though coming out of a daze, "W-wait, this is not right. Someone explain what is going on here! Mark, why is there a Spirit here? Why is she just sitting down and eating with us like it''s normal?!" Mark stopped mid-bite and looked toward the young man, an eyebrow raised. "Why? What''s wrong with it?" Alex stared wide-eyed, mouth agape. "What''s wrong with it?! What''s not wrong? This is a Spirit we are talking about!! A Magi Spirit! A manifestation of Nature! and you are talking about her like she''s some Stray that wandered in during the night!?" "See! HE gets it!" came a small voice from across the cave. Mark shrugged his shoulders as though he didn''t care and said in a calm voice, scooping more porridge into his bowl. "Well, She IS a stay..." "HEY!" A small pebbled flew across the cave and landed in Mark''s bowl. Mark stared down with a frown, before scooping it out and dumping it into the fire. "As for why she''s here, I''m not sure how m-" "MARK!" Tsutsuji shouted from across the room, panicked in her voice. Both men stood in a flash, bowls forgotten as they looked her way, weapons half drawn. There in the dim light of the cave, they could see Tsutsuji keening near Merry''s head as she lay on the bedding, the young girl''s good eye slowly blinking as she stared at the three.
~~~ 2 hours later ~~~ Mark scooped some of the still warm porridge into a small bowl before thinning it out a bit with the prepared water. Careful not to spill any, he walked towards the wall where Merry sat and placed the bowl in front of the silent girl before walking away. Merry had panicked when she had first woken up, though her injuries prevented her from moving much, preventing her from worsening the,. Small blessings, Alex had said. Sure, whatever. Alex sat by the fire, still nursing the mark on his hand from when he had foolishly rushed over to check on her. Surrounded by strangers and still suffering from a mild fever, the little girl had lashed out. It had taken a surprising amount of effort to pry her tiny teeth from the young man''s hand. The little girl had nearly crawled from the makeshift bed, frantically look around the cave as if searching for something. Not seeming to find what she was looking for, however, tears quickly weld up in her good eye. Slowly, the memories of the previous night seemed to come back to her as her eyes went wide. The child began to wail, and a sound of a deep grief unbefitting of such a small girl filled the cave. It was a sound that Mark wished he wasn''t so familiar with. As he watched the flickering flames, they and the sound seemed to melt together, like the phantoms of long-forgotten demons pulling themselves from the fiery pit itself. Merry had cried for close to twenty minutes before seeming to run out of energy and fell asleep once more. When she awoke an hour later, her eyes were dead and cold, glazed over with a look Mark knew all too well. Alex hesitated for a moment, the memory of a child''s sharp teeth still fresh in his mind, then moving slowly towards her, he carefully propping the small girl up before checking her wounds and changing her bandages. Merry had sat there in silence, not seeming to have the energy to resist, her eyes staring into nothing.