Book 3: Chapters 1-5 [Edited]

Edited Chapters that are of a standard I believe to be good enough for submission.

Chapter 1 - Defiance

Anything, when meticulously crafted and refined for a single, specific purpose, free from all unnecessary trappings and features, embodies a form that is pure and captivating. Like the most elegant of instruments, or the most elegant of weapons - their intrinsic beauty lies in their purity of purpose. In this, the human heart can not help but be enamored.

But when we ponder the nature of such beauty, an ethical question arises. If the thing is fashioned for a purpose that falls within the realm of the malevolent or the unethical, should we still regard it as beautiful? It is one of the foibles of man that we are often attracted towards the aesthetics of perfection, even when it is directed towards an objectionable end.

- The Principles of Conflict by General Damien de Savant circa 234 AC.

A thing from myth and legend fixed its gaze on me, its slitted eyes emanated a primordial light and were mesmerizing in their ferocious beauty. The Manticore unfurled its leathery bat wings, shaking off the last of the stone dust before giving out a thunderous roar that echoed throughout the temple. I was momentarily stunned by the sheer force of the sound as it reverberated through my very core, causing my bones to tremble in response.

The monster lashed out with its lion’s paw,  its sharp claws screeching against the metal of my cuirass and knocking me off my feet. As the world spun around me, a burst of adrenaline flooded my system. Time seemed to slow down as I rolled to evade a liquid projectile hurtling through the air, taking cover behind one of the lifelike statues.  The gob of whatever it was sizzled upon contact with the stone floor where I had been, just scant moments before. The creature possessed the ability to spit acid, or something equally deadly.

The temple resounded with laughter, a mocking echo that seemed to pierce through to my soul. It was the laughter of the godling, taunting me mercilessly.

It launched another attack, pouncing at me, which by some miracle, I dodged by half-rolling out of the way. I even managed to score a glancing hit with the blade of my weapon, but that was turned, for the most part, by its thick hide.

"You'll need to do much better than that. Struggling against such a juvenile creature, and this is only the beginning of your trials," Iasis, the Mother of Monsters, warned playfully, placing a delicate, clawed finger to her lips.

It was circling me, its prey. I was the only focus of its leonine and serpentine eyes, all four filled with equal menace. I kept the statue, a brutish Minotaur, between me and the monster. Dwarfing the largest of draft horses, it was of a fearsome size. But what truly unsettled me was seeing the alien hunger in those malevolent orbs. The primal part of me screamed that I should just run away. Fear, however, could give birth to more than cowardly flight. From fear could come rage. And from rage a serene form of clarity.

Seeking to cut out the root of the problem, I slashed at the goddess, the blade of my weapon passing through her form like so much smoke. This only caused her to erupt in new peals of laughter. Tsk-tsking in annoyance, I realized that there would be no choice but to play her game.

I focused on the task at hand and cast my investigative spell, Identify.

Juvenile Manticore - [Chimerae lvl.12]

Health: 402/402

Stamina: 74/75

Mana: 7/7

Seeing something broken down into visible numbers soothed the part of me that feared the unknown. The monster before me, though no doubt a being of a fantastical nature, had Health, Stamina, and Mana. They were high numbers to be sure, but not totally out of reach. With my powers, given enough time, I could kill even this mighty creature.

A quick glance at my Status caused a small grin to steal across my face.

Health: 328/336

Stamina: 64/68

Mana: 9/14

Thanks to my heavy armor, the Manticore’s last attack only caused eight points of damage, a drop in the ocean. Even as I registered this, my Holy Aura was already starting to undo this minor damage. If I played this correctly, my victory would almost be certain. The only thing I had to worry about was its acid attack. Worriedly, I noticed the stone was still sizzling from the caustic liquid of its missed attack.

Almost as if sensing my thoughts, the snake head opened its mouth wide and spat a large gob of acid. The burning liquid missed me, splashing against the Minotaur statue between us. The acid ate into the living stone, causing Iasis to float closer. Her movement drew my eye, and although she hid it well, I saw a flash of anger cross the features of the dark goddess. So that’s what it was, I thought to myself with a grim smile. These statues were of some importance to her. That could be leveraged.

It was time to make this trial, divine test, or whatever this was meant to be, a little easier. I gave a challenging roar of my own, hoping to anger it even further, and forcing it to put aside whatever low cunning it possessed. In response, it simply offered up another bestial cry, and we continued our little game of Ring Around the Rosey. I started to cast an old staple of mine, Drain, upon the monster. Forming the spell structure in my mind had become almost second nature, but for some mysterious reason there was a resistance, an obstruction to the spell.

Nevertheless, I continued to push more Mana into the spell and the familiar black lines of ebon came into being. They formed a link between me and the mythical creature, and a flood of heady energy filled me. A flavor I had been without for too long, the very taste of life, distilled in its purest form. Between raw human cunning and the insidious power of Drain, it was just a matter of time before the thing died.

Unlike the Karilla, a large fearsome lizard beast that I had defeated in the Sainba, the Manticore sensed the link between us and stormed towards me. The monster’s feral charge was a hurricane of scale, tooth, and claw that smashed into the statue between us, toppling the sculpture over with a crash.

My timing was perfect, for I had moved out of its path just before the monster crashed through the stone, and I took shelter behind yet another statue. The silence of the goddess’ laughter was all the confirmation I needed to know that my ploy was working. Like the action games of the old world, this would be a battle of patience and attrition where I used the enemy to damage objects in the environment in the hopes of unlocking the next stage.

I just needed to repeat this. My goal was to wear it out and, at the same time, potentially destroy future opponents that could be born from the stone.

Enraged, the Manticore fixed its baleful eyes at me, the serpent’s head hissing with new malice. More gobs of stone-eating liquid flew my way, but, as always, I made sure to keep behind a statue.

Again the creature charged, knocking over yet another statue and hurting itself in the process, to boot. I was hit by a concussive fragment of stone, which took out a chunk of my Health. But my Drain spell was still eating away at its very life force, and this stolen vitality was recovering my Health. The creature shook itself from its latest failure. At this rate, the creature’s end, like all things that bled and died, was inevitable. Iasis knew of this truth.

“Enough! Very well, you pass this stage of the trial!” cried the goddess, her words an imperious command. She clapped slowly at my success, grudgingly even, and the Manticore mysteriously faded into the silken shadows. The midnight lines of the Drain spell that joined me to the monster suddenly snapped, as if cut by an invisible blade.

Doubting her words, for this stage of this so-called trial had been surprisingly easy to overcome, I narrowed my eyes, looking toward where the monster had vanished before a new script filled my inner sight.

You have completed a Divine Ordeal.

You have gained 200 experience.

Perhaps the godling was telling the truth, but what she said next was as from relief as mirage was to the true water of an oasis.

A mischievous expression played about her face before she announced, “Very well done. Indeed, I did not expect one of my sister’s own to actually use their little brain. It’s always purge the unclean, burn this, and burn that…” she played with her hair, twirling it in her fingers before she smiled at me. “But have you the mettle to complete my next Test, I wonder?” she broke off laughing, a melodious tinkle that irked me to no end.

The Manticore had been objectively dangerous, but not something I could not have overcome with a strong arm and a sharp wit. Indeed, a part of me was disappointed that I had not been given a chance to finish the thing off. I had suffered minimal damage and had even absorbed two points of Mana from my exchange with the winged terror. Wings that it had, thankfully, never gotten to utilize, for had we fought where it could have used the advantage of flight, the outcome may well have been very different.

The crack of stone splitting shook me from this line of thinking, and drew me back to the task at hand. The sacred task of defying the Goddess and surviving this damnable trial. The hall shook as the sound of worn gears and ancient machinery filled the stale air. All except two of the remaining statues sank into the floor, as if being absorbed by quicksand.

From one of the remaining statues, a new threat presented itself. A threat that positively towered, reaching almost as high as the ceiling. A hulking metal faceless thing that was shaped in the vague approximation of a gigantic man, but with sharp lines and oblique angles. No bestial roar came, for the construct had no mouth to scream its challenge. There was only the screech of ancient pitted iron as the unnatural abomination stood upon thick pillars that could be construed to be its legs.

Fear and shock had long left me now, just a dull weariness remained that hid a smoldering ember of hate. I just wanted to get this over and done with, and I spent a precious point of Mana to measure the new threat.

Iron Golem - [Automata lvl.12]

Health: 1059/1059

Stamina: - -/ - -

Mana: - -/ - -

Like the undead Praxis Guard I had encountered before, the Iron Golem had neither Stamina nor Mana points. At a guess, this probably meant that it did not rely on Stamina for its basic locomotion. The lack of a Mana points, I intuited, meant that it possessed no will or consciousness of its own, not unlike a pre-programmed machine. It did, however, still have a prodigious amount of Health that completely overshadowed my own, and since it was a metal construct, I doubted my Drain spell would work upon it.

“One of the finer creations of one of my own creations. The old Gnomes always had a way with their inspirations. You will not defeat the Giant of Iron by running around like a little mouse,” Iasis chortled playfully, her voice coming from somewhere behind me, tempting me to look back.

I resisted the urge to turn in her direction. An indistinct yearning slowly emerged from within the deep recesses of my mind, crystallizing into a nearly palpable thought of a deeper hunger. A burning need to reduce this lump of metal into molten slag. Rust, and its need to consume the banquet before it. It had consistently eluded me before, as slippery as a wet eel, but now it pleaded to be invoked. If I had only realized sooner, I could have turned the Undead Praxis Guard into so much dust and avoided a desperate struggle.

But these were merely thoughts of what could have been, what should have been. Regrets had once held me captive, keeping me on the path of passable mediocrity. To give ear to them would be but a waste of time and emotion. They had no place in the here and now, in this world where civilized society would not shield me.

Somehow, I forced down a burst of reckless laughter that would have no doubt riled Iasis, possibly causing her to twist this Test against my favor. Impending triumph played its anthem within my mind as I began the motions to cast Rust. The dead syllables of an unknown language formed the spell in my mind. The voice of the spell resonated alongside mine, delighting in the anticipation of soon feasting upon fresh bounty.

Just as men were often victims of their own hubris, so too did the gods often misjudge the capacity of mortals.

Chapter 2 - Testament

Under intense scrutiny, some things become vague and indistinct, while others take on a perfect crystal clarity.

- The Human Question, by Gideon de Salavia 378 A.C.

A Power and hunger that knew no bounds burst from me on wings of black lightning. I had become a willing conduit for eldritch forces far beyond mortal ken. I was rewarded with the savage display of an elder god’s wrath. Incandescent light, bright enough to banish the darkness, and the cloying stench of ozone filled the air as my magic consumed the Iron Golem with wanton glee. Even at this distance, I could feel the heat as the air around the giant threatened to burst into flames.

For a few moments I was completely hypnotized, the display before me an energetic show of one of the most primal powers of the universe. There was a truth to be found here, if only my soul could grasp it. However, the temperature continued to rise and  fearing for my own safety, I backed off as several metric tons of iron bonded with the air itself in a release of white-hot energy.

After what seemed like an eternity, but could have only been minutes, a solemn silence filled the underground temple of the Mother of Monsters. A silence that was only broken by the hiss and crackle of superheated stone. A notification filled my inner vision and, soon after, a sense of accomplishment filled my heart. Rust, oh elusive rust, you had grown to be more than just a simple curse spell.

You have completed a Divine Ordeal.

You have gained 200 experience.

You have gained 1 Luck.

Then, of all things, I felt cheated. What of the experience for killing the iron giant? Anger, that dubious and unthinking friend, perched itself upon my shoulder before the logical part of my mind presented an answer that drove it away. Like the Praxis Guard, the Golem had been a construct, a mere thing without life and soul. This all but proved one of my earlier hypotheses on the variable nature of experience. To gain experience, in any meaningful amounts, I needed to have unique experiences. And every life that I took, was by its very nature unique.

Along with the increase to my Luck attribute, the spell had given me the brief joy of utterly trivializing what should have been an epic struggle. But what truly gave me savage delight was the look of perplexity on Iasis’ face. An expression that I would keep as a private treasure, only to look upon and sample when the fancy took me. Inviolate and mine. Mine and mine alone. But too soon did it fade, like the morning mist, to be replaced by a stony countenance. The gods of this world were not perfect, they were flawed. Nothing more than children granted power that should have never been theirs.

“What manner of pyromancer are you? To overcome such a mighty servant of an old creation with such ease?” asked the goddess of me, unable to hide the growing incredulity in her voice, “Only a mortal who grows close to the end of their Ma’at could command such puissant fire, yet I sense that you do not seek the frenzy hidden within the flames…”

Indeed, the gods of this world, at least this one, were not omniscient. This was a far cry from their portrayed perfection in my world, as espoused in the books of modern misguided religious practice. And if they were flawed, they were unworthy of reverence and through their flaws they could be manipulated. They could be bargained with. It was worth a try.

“I will answer, if you will first answer a question of my own,” I returned, hoping my voice sounded steady and sure. Iasis arched an eyebrow in mock amusement before nodding her assent with a royal’s authority.

“What of my companions? Those who were near me when I was attacked by that worm of the desert, are they alive and well?” I realized that, thinking of my companions even now, in the face of such a terrible being, spoke well of my character. Perhaps I truly was the hero of my own story after all.

Floating sinuously through the air, she completed a loop around me, her eyes roved over me as if inspecting for any hidden mystery before she replied, “Of all the questions you would ask of a Divine, you would first seek to merely assuage your worry of your companions? I had expected something along the lines of how to achieve greater heights of power, or the secret to immortality. How terribly virtuous of you… and such a banal question, too. Refreshingly so.”

“We are more than just selfish desire,” I snapped, the vehemence in my voice shocking even me.

“As expected of a servant of my sister, oh so very sure of yourself. Of what makes you, you. This will only make marking you as one of my own even more satisfying. Very well!” she clapped her hands together in false delight before finally answering my question, “Let it be known that Iasis is generous with her grace. They live, for now. Brought deeper into the desert by the Guardian, they clung to its hide like parasites. Exhausted from its duty, the worm returned to the depths. Even now, they travel towards this place, though how they still cling to life is a mystery, even to me. Ever has your kind been one of my more tenacious creations.”

Relief flooded through me and I uttered my gratitude, “You have my thanks.” My friends were safe, and I had not failed in my current quest to escort Larynda to Al-Lazar.

“Be that as it may. You have yet to complete my Test,” she breathed huskily, and I felt myself drawn by her intoxicating influence. “I must choose a suitable opponent for a powerful mortal such as you. Something… something poetic,” she drawled, running a finger across the line of my of my jaw before playfully tapping me on my nose.

My sword would not strike a futile blow against that which it could not touch, nor would my teeth gnash against themselves in frustration, for I had long gone past the point where such petty provocation would get a rise from me. Still, my free hand formed an iron fist and I found myself gripping my trusty weapon tighter. I would succeed at this Test, and only come out stronger.

“Yes, I have just the thing! Your final trial and a suitable reward, should you overcome it. I am most generous, am I not?” she voiced with an intonation that demanded worship.

It was a powerful thing, the influence of god, a mesh of soft womanly wiles and the hard steel of irresistible command that threaded through her voice. I felt myself start to give voice to a word of praise and thanks, but stopped myself. My pride would not allow me to do so. In comparison to the power of my patron, the source of dark, otherworldly magic, Entropy, hers was but a pale shadow.

“You do yourself proud. I see that you are made of sterner stuff. This will be the last Test. Come prove to me your worth,” she exclaimed, an echo to her voice that reverberated with heavy portent.

From the last statue, an amorphous blob was born from the living stone. It shrunk in size, condensed and turned into liquid, before taking on the rough texture of mud or earth. Like clay. From this ball grew four limbs and a head. As it slowly took on more detail, I could see that it was molding itself into a vague approximation of a humanoid form. It began to take on more complexity, growing ever more sinister in its appearance.

I yearned to strike this thing down as it was being created, before it could be completed, but something held me back. It would be wrong to strike down an unborn child. It would be perverse. It would be unjust.

These thoughts, however, were not my own, and the choir of voices within clamored in protestation. A suggestion snuck through the alien thoughts to the fore of my mind, an image of the raw stuff of Entropy. Holy Aura would not serve me well here. The next opponent would require something darker, something more powerful.

The auric light faded slowly, and with it my primary source of illumination. The orange red glow of Golem’s body was all that was left, and even that had begun to slowly fade as my Rust spell continued to consume the remains. Divine purpose and the sense of righteousness was replaced with something more familiar. I readied the threads of Mana and cast the spell. Entropic Aura pulsed from me, and I felt a serenity, an acceptance of my place in all existence. Though I was finite and had an end, I was also the end.

Finally, I was able to break from my fugue of inaction and false sense of fairness. Using the Dash skill, I closed the distance between us and raised a blow, fueled with the strength of Power Strike at what I thought was the clay figure. My weapon was parried by the clay creation’s weapon, and the first note of steel meeting steel rang in the air. Even in the questionable light, I could see that its sword was identical to my own.

I took a step back to gaze upon the figure that had been born from the clay or living stone. It looked back at me through a visored helm, fashioned in the same style as my own, with cold disdain. What was once stone and clay, was now a thing clad with heavy steel, shadow, and dark ambition. In time to the waves of my own Entropic Aura, it emitted identical gray waves of its own that brushed and flowed against mine.

It was in a way a compliment, I thought somewhere in the back of my mind. Of all the mighty monsters that Iasis could have chosen for her final Test, she had chosen that I fight a mirror image of myself. A reflection and testament of my own might.

For a second, it looked down at what was left of the golem and drew inspiration from it. The thing had been born, but a few seconds ago, and I could sense that it was already learning. And learning quickly. Wary, I kept my distance, which proved almost to be my undoing. Black lightning flowed from its outstretched hand, intertwining with the pulses of our Entropy as raven dark energy latched onto my armor.

Gritting my teeth, I expected a world of pain, girding myself to launch a last suicidal spiteful attack even as I cooked within my armor. But there was nothing. There was no spike of pain, nor was I turned into a blazing conflagration of metal. Absolutely ineffective, the black lightning wove and coursed futilely about my person. Stupidly, the thing cast Rust on me again, but to no effect, as the energies of the spell simply washed over me.

I laughed in unrestrained glee at the lesser me’s display of foolishness. It had even inherited my habit of making the same mistake twice. I understood now why the voices had prophetically advised me to use my Entropic Aura. The Aura had been the shield that had nullified my mirror’s power. I knew it to be so. Before it could cast another spell, I redoubled my attack, our blades clashing in a song of sparks.

I would enjoy this contest with the most perfect of sparring partners.

Chapter 3 - Reflection

Money is arguably one of human civilization's most impactful inventions. Born from human necessity, it quickly permeated every corner of the known world, being adopted by almost every race in Gesthe. Money fuels trade, serving as the cornerstone of prosperity and progress. Truly, its evolution is fascinating, from the initial exchange of rare shells to the minting of copper, bronze, silver, and gold coins.

Yet, it is the Shareholder Houses of Al-Lazar that have truly revolutionized the concept. They ingeniously adopted mere paper scraps as a representation of value for easier trade. What makes this system striking is its straightforwardness. These notes can be exchanged for gold or other precious metals at the city’s treasury, establishing a mechanism rooted almost entirely in trust and upheld by the city's vast resources.

Termed as "promissory notes," their popularity is surging among cities that engage in trade with Al-Lazar.

- The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC.

Stroke for stroke, counter, parry, strike, and slash. It was my very mirror. Its very existence was a problem, a test and a divine ordeal. At its very essence, it posed the quandary - how does one defeat oneself? Like many things in life, the solution was simple, yet the execution was far from it. A simple answer to a simple problem. You just had to be the better version of yourself.

“A small hint for you, child of mortals. It will not be through violence, nor through magical might, that this Test is overcome,” declared the goddess imperiously, floating upon high.

Our blades met again, locking clumsily, and we were both off-balance from having put too much power into our blows. She shrugged casually as she moved through the shadows and flickering darkness. “Never did you mortals learn to listen,” she sighed exasperatedly.

Distracted, a slow parry on my part caused a small shock of pain as the metal of my enemy’s weapon smashed against my upper arm. It was a good thing that my Health was so high, as the force of the blow, I am sure, would have been debilitating, armored or not. Instead, an abstract ten points were subtracted from my Health pool. Angrily, I replied in kind, striking at its knee-joint, causing it to lose its balance and crash to the ground. However, my follow-up blow failed to end things. My mirror dodged the descending blade, rolling away.

We were not equal after all. This thing, for all of its mimicry, fought like a machine. There was no anger behind its blows, just cold, calculated reaction. I switched grips with my weapon, holding it like a hammer now to better deal with an armored opponent. My mirror did likewise, and I smiled beneath my helm. As there was no emotion, so too there was no true thought behind its actions, no real plan. It was only reacting.

I almost laughed at the bitter irony. This Gilgamesh-thing was indeed a perfect mirror of myself. My old self, that was. The old me that could do nothing more than to react to circumstance, that never thought of tomorrow. Always dealing with one problem without thinking about the next. The old me was weak. The old me was dead, dead from exposure, sliced from navel to neck in the arena, or crushed under the very earth itself.

Our strikes became less elegant, but more punishing. We dealt ringing blows against each other that dented our thick armor. The underground temple to the Mother of Monsters sounded like a blacksmith’s forge as we beat each other into shape. As we fought, it was like I was being made anew. Being nearly my equal made it the perfect sparring partner.

You have gained 1 Dexterity.

There it was, the key to my victory and the release from this underground hell. Unlike the pseudo-me, and the other artificial creations of this place, I had the capability for accelerated growth. It was a slim advantage, but one that would become more pronounced as the contest continued.

But with such a close competition, the hand of fortune’s favor would heavily influence the scales. I would need to massage the odds in my favor with a better strategy.

I shifted to a more defensive mindset, focusing on avoiding the swift incoming blows, conserving my own Stamina and letting my mimic to waste more of its. Its hammer descended in a predictable arc, which I dodged, and the head of the weapon smashed into a plinth and sent stone chips scattering. Evading the attack had been easy, for I had seen the action telegraphed in my arms and the set of my shoulders, its arms and its shoulders. It was a flaw that Cordelia had warned me of before, that my movements were too large and lacked subtlety. They were too straightforward and honest. Seeing myself from an outside perspective made it easy to see the truth in her words.

My retaliation came swiftly, a simple Power Strike enhanced blow that smacked into its helm, stunning it. Again, and again, I repeated this move until my vanquished foe lay still at my feet. Notifications filled my inner sight, but I paid them scant attention as I raised my hammer weapon to end this trial.

“CEASE!” cried out the voice of divinity, forcing my arm to stop, the limb suddenly feeling alien and apart from me. No matter how I struggled, it felt like the commands I was sending to my arm were simply being ignored.

Utterly frozen, I could do nothing as the goddess floated closer to me. Always. Those in power only play games that they have already won, I thought to myself as I snarled in aggression.

“No, no, no. This is not how it should have been done,” pouted Iasis, “You were meant to fight each other for a bit before you realized the futility of fighting yourself. It was meant to teach you something!”

“Teach me something, you say!” I spat back, my helm causing my voice to sound hollow.

Rolling her eyes, she explained, “Yes, you were meant to sheathe your sword and the mimic would have done likewise. It is meant to be a mirror of yourself! Have you not read of the tales!? Honestly!”

“Tales!? What tales? You speak in riddles and bend and break the rules that you have made, like a spoiled child. You have me dance to your tune, and I will suffer it no longer. Strike me down and end this farce, I grow tired of it all,” I answered, all the while using this time to check my notifications.

You have completed a Divine Ordeal.

You have completed the Test of Iasis.

You have gained 200 experience.

You have gained the Mark of the Adapting Helix.

You have learned Frenzied Strikes (lvl.1).

You have learned Swords (lvl.3)

You have learned Hammers (lvl.4)

You have gained 1 Strength.

From my notifications, this divine trial had certainly taught me something. Control returned to me as the experience flowed into my being. As powerful as they were, the gods of this world could be defied. If one was strong enough.

“Ignorant… and so melodramatic are you, human, but I guess I did after all make you in my own image,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. Her voice grew serious and stern, “If I wished you dead, you would be. I tolerate your presence because you are amusing, and because I have a use for you. Be that as it may, I will not tolerate RUDENESS!” exclaimed the divine.

The anger left her as quickly as it came, for her expression became bright and joyful. She clapped her hands together, her eyes lighting, “You have passed the Test! Which makes you worthy of receiving my Mark. Oh, how delightful. This has not happened for, ah yes, centuries! Well done, now the Hul Abba, my servants will allow your passage!” she praised, her enthusiasm almost infectious.

“Now, claim your prize! Quickly” she intoned.

I sought my ‘prize’, scanning all the corners of this room, only to see the pseudo-me swiftly revert to an amorphous blob. The liquid began to vibrate, creating ripples that distorted and distended it into strange shapes. Then corners formed, and new wooden textures formed along the surface. Slowly, it began to take the rough shape of… a trunk or chest.

“Quickly, before it finishes its transformation. Touch it!” insisted the goddess, command etched into every syllable of her voice.

I found myself drawing closer, my hand reaching for what was left of my defeated foe. Making contact with its wooden surface, I felt a connection more intimate than anything I had ever felt before as I claimed what was rightfully mine. My heart raced, pounding in my chest, as a strange, fiery desire enveloped me.

And then, with an abrasive suddenness, pain, that most unwelcome of guests, imposed itself upon me.

Chapter 4 - Symbiosis

It is perseverance through the darkest of times that truly marks the souls of the greatest of men. As the tide rises, carrying with it every ship in the harbor, so too does a man's commitment to the realm elevate all those around him. In pursuit of a brighter dawn, one may offer a lifetime to the forging of a just and noble society. And though the shadow of mortality may claim him before he beholds the fruits of his toil, his legacy left behind is a bettered world. In the face of the abyss, where hope might seem but a fleeting wisp, those who tether their hearts to just purpose shall, indeed, find a profound fulfillment.

- The Human Question by Gideon de Salavia 378 A.C

Even through a layer of steel, alien memories and more entered my consciousness in an overwhelming wave that sent me reeling. Senses that I did not possess, feelings that were not mine, traveled across the bridge of my touch with the Mimic.

The collected thoughts of the monster flowed into me in a frozen fraction of eternity. Impressions of shape, sensations, and purpose blossomed in my mind, giving birth to the alien idea of its essence. It was an ambush predator. A monster that preyed on man’s greed and curiosity, it lured them with the promise of rare and valuable treasures, only to snap shut the jaws of its many-fanged trap. A creature of shadow and black. Its kind lived in long-forgotten places of the world - in the ruins of lost civilizations, forgotten temples, and the other darker places of the world.

From the moment it had been born, it had known only one thing. A deep, overwhelming need to consume. And consume it did, from simple rocks and plants, to that greatest delicacy of all - warm yielding flesh. Every day was a battle, and it fought to consume, to consume and to grow. It grew, even eating others of its own kind, such was its all-consuming need to grow and change. As was the nature of Mimics, a seed of consciousness began to form within, and with it a new ability. The nascent creature learned to change its shape, taking on the properties of the things it had consumed. It learned to wait to conserve its energies to bide its time. It learned to change its shape in order to lure its prey.

It became a fully fledged adult Mimic.

The taste of solid steel and hardened leather mixed with blood, bone, and scrumptious innards was, for the Mimic, a feast of experience. With each bite, it could feel and taste new things, new sensations. It saw things, things that made it want something more.

Of all of its kind, the mimic before me had become truly apart and different. The old hunger, the need to consume, though still an insistent thing, lost its edge of command. It wanted to feel the sun, to feel the wind, to be outside of the ever-darkening gloom.

Life began to lose its flavor, as food no longer held its interest. With no appetite, it began to lose its drive to live, and an unusual malaise fell upon the creature. This state that it found itself in was an aberration. For Mimics, their hunger was a very intrinsic part of them. The driving force behind their existence.

A deep ennui overtook this creature, for life had lost its luster. Oh, how it wished to see the world outside. Food began to taste like ashes, and disinterested, the creature began to ignore its once delicious prey.

As the mimic began to starve, consuming itself from within, it prayed to its mother, the Mother of All Monsters, for salvation from its stagnation. The fickle Divine decided to entertain this strange creature's prayer. Iasis, seeing that this Mimic was unique among its own kind, gifted it with something equally unique, and something that only she could give. Iasis tampered with its life-script, the helix that preordained the shape of all life. She promised it delivery from the hell of its own self-imposed suffering, to give it a new world with a potential bond, the Gir-Shanu, the Change, promising it a host.

And today, the Goddess had finally made good on her promise.

A lull in the flow of memories let me slip back into the here and now, back into myself. The thing was sending out tendrils of consciousness, seeking out a form of symbiosis. Let me help was the mental impression I received across my bond. In my mind the creature formed the shape of my missing shield, dredging it from my recent memories. It was the very picture of what I needed right now. The thing, it seemed, was trying to be useful. Sifting through my memories, it then formed words, gleaning them straight from my mind, in an effort to communicate. The Mimic’s thoughts and desires became known to me. It even wanted a name, of all things.

To my horror, I saw that something else had been flowing into me, organic grey threads that pulsed in time to the beat of my heart. The last of the threads slipped through the gaps in my armor, their invasive presence working their way through my being. Of the chest shape that had been its budding chrysalis, only a thin brittle ash-like substance remained.

The goddess looked down as her gift fused with me, crowing with delight as she clasped her hands together.

In counterpoint to my horror, the power and strength such a fusion, such a true symbiosis could bring me was truly tempting, but in exchange I would be losing myself. I would be something different. And, the last thing I needed was another voice in my head. The dark things in my mind, the current residents, agreed with me, and together we hatched a plan to lure it in deeper into the halls of mind. The crux of our plan lay with my Drain spell. With the old Beastmaster Abas Yar, I had taken something from him when I had cast the spell with a touch. And what more intimate touch was there than the joining of minds?

The voices explained that the spell Drain was more, much more than the simple transfer of vitality. It was the subtle consumption of a being's very essence, the thing that made them, them. The transfer of memories gave evidence to this fact. But how could I target a thing that was within? The very notion was so steeped in the mystical that my modern enlightened mind could find no starting point of reference on how to even begin.

We will do it for you, the dark choir promised, their voices loud and insistent in the hollows of my mind. All I would need to do was cede a little control to them, just a little, and together we would exact our revenge on the things that sought to control us. I found myself agreeing. Better the devil, you know. Besides, the voices sounded familiar, like a long-lost friend, and had, as of yet, never steered me wrong.

Together, we sent out feelings of warmth and acceptance, and the voices opened up a door to the inner parts of my mind. Innocently, the mimic accepted our mental invitation for congress, passing into the area we had prepared for its demise.

The jaws of the trap closed as its main consciousness sought to meld with my own. The dark choir opened the floodgates when it was at its most vulnerable. They assisted me in channeling raw Entropy, the foundation of my power, into the mana-form of a most complicated spell. As this energy surged, the void whispered madness, as something was simultaneously drawn away in a chaotic symphony; the intrinsic identity and the essence of the Mimic.  It was they, and not I, that cast the threads of the Drain spell, each tiny thread latching onto a string of the Mimic’s conscious thought before hungrily tearing into it.

It was taken completely by surprise, for human duplicity was still a foreign concept to it, and it could have never predicted this moment. For a second, I felt its fear before it was completely overwhelmed, as its consciousness was sucked out of it and lost to the ether.

I had, for all intents and purposes, destroyed its consciousness and whatever it was that made the Mimic a Mimic. I shrieked internally in delight for a victory claimed, though the understanding of how I did what I did was fleeing me.

I was me, and not an us. I was a human, and not some sort of amalgamation of man and monster. I was pure.

Up above me, Iasis crowed happily as she floated in lazy circles. With a smile, her divinity descended, stopping just above head height.

“Wonderful, now truly you are stained in my colors. I have beaten my sister on this turn!” she crowed with childish joy.

She doesn't know. She doesn't know. She doesn't know. I kept repeating myself like a mantra in my head, fighting back a smile of satisfaction. The gods were not omniscient and it seemed that even they could even be tricked.

“Now, I guess there is nothing for it but to be on your way. Your very existence will be a walking prayer to me, the greatest of Divines. Know it to be an honor and a gift,” she intoned.

“I live but to serve,” I answered wearily, glad that my helm hid my features.

“How delightful, I see that the Change has transformed you for the better. Much better. I see you have finally learned some respect, even if it makes you a little less interesting…” she pouted prettily.

“One of Vari’s virgin whores waits for you on the sands with a few other mortals. You would do well to end her, or perhaps do whatever you wish with her… Ah, and there is a new den of your kind at the end of the long water. You may go there and spread my glory. Go forth then, my Gilgamesh, you will find safe passage from the Guardians and the Praxis down that path. Remember to always take the left,” Iasis instructed, pointing imperiously to a passage that had mysteriously opened behind the altar dedicated to her. Moments later, she faded from sight.

Her words hit me like a splash of water in the desert, and relief settled awkwardly upon me. So engrossed was I in my struggles that I had forgotten completely about my companions. Up until now, a part of me had thought them dead, swallowed by the great worm. If I had, however, thought about things rationally, I realized my quest to escort Larynda had not failed, which meant that she was still alive. And, if the girl was still alive, then it would have meant that others who had been in proximity to her were also. It was high time to focus on the path before me.

Pushing down my concern for my companions, I peered ahead and could barely see the passage, for the glow of the golem corpse had dimmed considerably. Nonetheless, I forced myself to walk on, glad that I had a means to get out of this dark and forsaken place. I had had enough of the gods for a moment, sworn promise of vengeance or no.

For a few moments, I considered recasting my Holy Aura, but thought better of it because of recent company. I had to at least keep the thin veneer of acquiescence, or the Goddess might be less accommodating.

With my heart burdened by recent events, I lumbered on with a clank of metal, starting upon this dark path with no small amount of trepidation. With no good source of light, my hand guided the way as I felt along the unnaturally smooth stone walls.

Once I judged I had traveled a suitable distance, I decided to finally take stock of my situation. In need of light, I pushed down the hungry pulse of Entropic aura, a pulse that had grown to follow the beat of my heart, and released Holy Aura. Determination filled me, a sense that I was doing right, and the light of the spell illuminated the way. Under the light of divinity, I took inventory.

I had my weapon, a lethal thing capable of warding off the mightiest of monsters in my hands, a well-made dagger and a fancy crossbow that was useless without any bolts. As for supplies, in my pouch were a few bits of travel food, some coin, and potions in their metal vials. However, most importantly of all, was the half a flask of water at my hip.

How long would I need to travel before I could find a source of water? Iasis had disappeared before I could ask her any relevant questions to my current situation. The gods of this world were certainly stingy in their aid…

Where was the mimic? Was the thing inside of me and eating at me from within? The potential horror of the situation ran laps in my mind as I searched for its presence, and felt a shifting under the skin of my hand.

Quickly, I removed my gauntlets and touched the hand that had made contact with the monster. It looked normal to the naked eye with no unusual markings, but I could feel something new, but now unquestionably dormant, within me. Then, tendrils of something vile undulated just under the skin in rippling patterns that thoroughly disgusted me. I had to stop myself from dry-heaving, thoughts of this moving within my hand almost unmanning me.

Hissing through my teeth, I prepared myself for what I had to do next, grateful that I had kept enough Mana in reserve for a Heal spell. Raising my blade, I brought it down to sever the infection that had taken root in my hand, the last of the taint that was Iasis’ gift.

Chapter 5 - A New Point of View

The Whispering Wastes, at least from the mouths of the more intrepid adventurers tell, has hidden depths beneath its shifting sands. They speak of a cavernous network of tunnels, bored out by the Guardians of the wastes and of rivers, not of water, but of sand that flows beneath the surface. They tell tales of people who have never seen the light of the Sahel, our glorious sun, who have made such a place their underground home. Others whisper of cannibalistic and backward troglodytes, far removed from our common ancestry, who prey on each other and the monsters that dwell beneath the surface. But all of them speak of the vast treasures of an ancient civilization and a gateway into the deeper darkness. A path to the mystical realm of the Everdark.

- The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC.

Hesitation, the source of all failure, leeched power and speed from my blow. My sword was slowed in the final fractions of a second before it was stopped by a layer of wood and metal that grew with sudden speed from the joints of my wrist and formed just above my arm. From near my wrist, an organic mix of wood flecked with dull metal burst forth tendrils that formed a shape. The shape of a small round shield.

Dumbstruck, I could only pause in shock as the edge of my blade cut into this new shield. Messages and notifications then floated across my vision, obstructing my view. Blocked, my sword had bitten deep into the strange wood, but not nearly enough to cut through it and sever my wrist. I had been completely protected from harm.

You have learned Monster Taming (lvl.1)

Your Entropic Mimic has learned Adaptive Defense (lvl.1)

Your Entropic Mimic has learned Shield Form (lvl.1)

There it was before me, the unnatural shape of my curse and my latest parasite. Had my humanity been taken from me, making me a monster, an unnatural and alien thing? I would grieve if I had any tears left in me, I thought to myself with a bitter mental laugh. The thing living inside me, was it a separate entity? Or I had become partially a monster? Perhaps it was a little bit of both.

I had envisioned that the invasion would be finished once the voices, as promised, had neutralized the Mimic’s influence. But, like all wars, the damage is still felt long after, as this unnatural growth was testament to. Was this supposed to be the Iasis’ gift, a shield made from my own flesh and blood? Then this should be a blessing, and not a curse. A giggle infused with the chaos of the moment escaped me, so overwhelmed I was at the ridiculousness of it all.

I scanned my Status, looking for any changes.

[STATUS] Calling: Gilgamesh lvl.12 Paladin/Reaver

Strength: 30

Dexterity: 26

Constitution: 42

Intelligence: 21

Wisdom: 22

Charisma: 14

Luck: 21

Entropic Mimic [Creature of Entropy - lvl.24]

Health: 462/474

Stamina: 58/60

Mana: 1/1

Adaptive Defense (lvl.1)

Shield Form (lvl.1)

SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES

Pain Nullification (lvl.3)

Power Strike (lvl.4) 10

Endure (lvl.4)

Stealth (lvl.1)

Rest (lvl.3)

Backstab (lvl.2)

Dodge (lvl.3)

Polearms (lvl.3)

Dual Wield (lvl.2)

Critical Hit Mastery (lvl.3)

Improved Unarmed Combat (lvl.1)

Hammers (lvl.4)

Flails (lvl.3)

Maces (lvl.3)

Shields (lvl.3)

Medium Armour (lvl.3)

Heavy Armour (lvl.5)

Axes (lvl.2)

Daggers (lvl.4)

Throwing Weapons (lvl.2)

Double Throw (lvl.1) 5

Shield Bash (lvl.2) 10

Riding (lvl.2)

Dash (lvl.1)

Swords (lvl.3)

Crossbows (lvl.4)

Blind-Fighting (lvl.1)

Rush Strike (lvl.1)

Tracking (lvl.1)

Trap Detection (lvl.1)

Frenzied Strikes (lvl.1) 30

Monster Taming (lvl.1)

SPELLS & MAGIC

Heal (lvl.5) 5

Rust (lvl.4) 2

Identify (lvl.3) 1

Silent Casting (lvl.2)

Mana Regeneration (lvl.2)

Purify (lvl.2) 3

Greater Heal (lvl.2) 10

Holy Aura (lvl.3) 2

Decay (lvl.1) 1

Drain (lvl.5) 2

Entropic Aura (lvl.3) 2

Inferno Bolts (lvl.1) 2

GIFTS

Curse of Entropy -20% to all starting attributes.

Mark of the Paladin  10% resistance to Dark/Holy magic. 5% resistance to Physical.

Touch of the Void  10% reduced resistance to Holy/Fire magic, 20% resistance to Mental Effects, 15% immunity to Mental Effects.

Mark of the Adaptive Helix  5% resistance to Physical, Minor Regeneration

Experience to next level 812/891

Health: 258/342

Stamina: 8/70

Mana: 10/14

There it was, a new entry on my Status, the list and record of my progress and accomplishments. The Entropic Mimic, with all its own mini status within my own. For an irrational moment, jealousy pulsed hot. This creature had taken up precious space in my already cluttered ‘character sheet’.

I took a deep breath, shaken by my almost-self-dismemberment. The will I had worked up to cut off a part of my limb had left me, and the crazy part of me finally stopped giggling. The rational part of my mind was slowly taking over, searching within for any last remnants of my invader. Finding nothing, not that I would know what I was looking for anyway, I began to think more and more logically, and cold reason took the helm. Like appreciating a pointillist painting, I needed to take a step back and appreciate the whole.

Forcing myself to continue, I plodded on in the darkness. The clank of my armor punctuating my steps. I needed to keep moving. My companions were waiting for me.

Despite her annoying prattle, and putting aside the whole almost dying part, I had come out of the exchange quite well. Playing one god's ire against the other had worked, giving me yet another source of power to work with. I read over the additions again, trying to work out a few answers for myself.

First, there was my new skill. Being bonded so closely, at the very much physical level, and perhaps psychic level, had even given me the Monster Taming skill. I had sampled the monster’s life across our mental link and had drunk deep of its memories. For a time its struggles were mine, its hunger was mine. It had felt that I truly was the Mimic.

Apart from the feeling of disgust that still lingered, this opened up a whole plethora of new possibilities, provided I survived long enough to make use of the new skill. Or survived its use.

My new ‘pet’, for lack of a better word, had its own Status displayed within my own. True to form, this world decided that it would be unsporting to give me more detailed information. All the information I had on my new passenger was its Health, Stamina, and Mana, alongside its new skills Adaptive Defense and Shield Form. Its Shield Form skill was rather self-explanatory, and I had an inkling that the Adaptive Defense had something to do with it suddenly forming a shield in reaction to my attempt at self harm. The name of my new passenger itself was puzzling, Entropic Mimic. Was it just a simple Mimic before it met me, and upon bonding, had been changed somehow? What did the prefix ‘Entropic’ mean for it? What did it mean for me?

More worrying than the name was that, at four hundred and seventy-four, the Mimic’s health dwarfed my own. Was that because it was at a much higher level than me, having lived in an environment filled with constant conflict before its ennui and its encounter with Iasis? Or was it, like the Xaruar, simply because it had a ridiculous Constitution attribute. Most likely, a mixture of both.

I vaguely recalled that the monster, before we had completely bonded, had wanted to make itself useful. It had latched onto my recent memories of the loss of my shield. Perhaps, that was the reason it had received that skill? Also, if it had acquired the Shield Form skill, then it stood to reason that there would be other forms and shapes it could learn in the future.

The Entropic Mimic had only a single point of Mana. I concluded that this was due to it no longer having a consciousness or true will of its own, having been completely suborned by my own. Though I was reluctant to be a host to a parasite, I would use the tools that were given to me. I would be a fool if I didn't use everything in my power to survive in this world, even if I did not fully understand the ramifications of doing so.

From my experience, the gods of this world were rather backhanded in their blessings, after all. The voices, my other passengers, agreed with this assessment. It was yet more fuel to add to the growing pyre of hate, the only emotion that I reserved for false gods of this world. Yes, for false gods they were, and from my experience, far from perfect beings and most definitely not worthy of respect.

For all of this, I could not feel its physical presence within me, either. My limb, for all intents and purposes, felt just like an ordinary arm. I moved it experimentally, testing its range. Yes, apart from the new growth, nothing odd. I willed it back, and felt nothing. Next, I tried imagining my arm and wrist as they used to be, willing it to be so. It felt like learning how to walk for the first time, a clumsy thing, but slowly the new growth receded, disappearing back into my flesh through the gaps of my armor. How convenient, I thought to myself in a moment of black humor. At least now, I would not need to go shopping for a shield ever again.

This new symbiosis was very much one-sided, in my favor. The mimic was effectively dead, its monstrous nature now joined to mine. Or was it simply dormant, and this was its way of making me let down my guard, before it consumed me in my sleep? An existential dread threatened to overwhelm me before the voices soothed it away. The legion within me had done their job, or so they had assured. The choir protected its own against any and all.

As I was thinking these thoughts, I saw my Health, along with the Mimic’s, go up a tick. That must be due to the Minor Regeneration effect from the Mark of the Adaptive Helix, the new entry in my character sheet. Though perhaps of little use in a confrontation settled in a manner of seconds, its effects outside of combat were already making themselves known.

What were the biological implications of all this? Was there even one? Wasps had been gifted their stings by an ancient virus, incorporating the alien presence within their very being, across the generations. My symbiosis, was it to be a similar story? Would my future prodigy, if any, be cursed, or blessed, similarly? What was the term for it… mutualism, or commensalism? The scraps of knowledge of my old world, of my old life, had grown distant.

Questions within questions, within questions, spiraling pointlessly within my mind. I would have to set aside such things and concentrate more fully on what lay ahead. There was still the option of excising the thing at a later time, if it proved problematic. However, I doubted that I had it within me to actually do the deed. Still, perhaps one of my companions could do it for me.

Fearful of drawing the ire and attention of the goddess, I was leery of using my Holy Aura so close to a place sacred to her. With no torch to light the way, the path I was on darkened considerably, rendering my vision near useless, the ambient light now nothing more than a patchy feeble glow. The purple veins of glowing mineral that threaded through the walls now illuminated next to nothing and simply emphasized the ominous air and heavy darkness of this place. Disoriented, I trailed a hand along the left wall, shuffling forward with slow, tentative steps. In this manner, I proceeded a good while, despite a pall of claustrophobia threatening to overwhelm me in the suffocating gloom.

Now, hopefully a good distance from the goddess, I channeled my Holy Aura to throw off the dark and to top off the last of my Health. It was bright, too bright, for eyes that had grown accustomed to the dim. Down before me, beyond the circle of my light, I heard the slither and clacking sound of something approaching.

Empowered by the spell and my divine gifts, thoughts of flight were a distant thing for one such as I, who had been chosen by one of the greater powers of the universe. Being close to level thirteen, I needed the experience, and welcomed conflict. Whoever, or whatever, it was, mattered not to me. I would not flee, come what may.

What had the goddess said about going down the left? Who cared, I would deal with this thing first and then backtrack later. I drew my sword with a new and fierce determination… and this time summoned my new shield.