Dungeon 42

Identity [Pending]

Chapter 6

The loss of my personal information hit me harder than my body's transformation. Becoming something other than human was alarming but felt less invasive. Even if I didn't look the same, it was still me.

Not knowing even the most basic of things about myself was different. It touched on a more fundamental fear. The body was a vessel. The mind was the self. So who was I now?

I didn't have a ready answer. The extent of my personal memories began with the events leading to my death. Or at least a fuzzy version of them. I knew exactly what happened and how I felt but couldn't recall anything about myself. Not even what, if anything, I'd had for breakfast that day.

That impersonal personal experience continued to the present moment. That was less than a day's worth. As I came to fully understand my situation, I felt something start to rise up in me. The feeling of building pressure lasted for several moments before subsiding like a wave failing to crest.

I sat in the calm aftermath and wondered if what I'd felt was a nervous breakdown being averted. My feelings about the suppression function went from bitter mistrust to almost gratitude.

I did truly hate the idea of having my feelings controlled. That didn't mean I would trade unnatural calm for a mental breakdown. I wasn't a masochist, and dysphoria was not a joke.

It didn't take me long to start to wonder why so much of me was missing. Wanting answers, I reopened the interface and returned to the dungeon master information. I started actually reading the full progression chart this time.

The pictures, in particular, were fascinating. The first level was Demi Dungeon Master. It was no longer a member of its base species but retained around ninety percent of the appearance. Most of the difference was internal. The visual examples showed the different ways it might manifest.

The body's systems were infected or replaced, resulting in black blood. Slight elongation of the limbs and fingers might occur, but it wasn't guaranteed. The more severe visual changes began at the next level.

Looking away from the chart, I studied one of my hands. The number of joints was human standard. It was the proportion when compared with the palm that showed they were longer than they should be. They also had stiletto tip style nails.

They were sharp but not long or excessively thick, which kept them from looking like claws. I gave a desultory chuckle with my new weird voice. It seemed like the system had given me a fashionable manicure.

I shuddered as I looked at the chart. I'd gone from human to full Dungeon Master without experiencing the intermediate stages. I hadn't had any problem reading about it, but now I felt a particular horror.

Living through the process of corruption must be terrifying. It was one thing to know something would happen. It was another to actually experience it. Even if you walked into the deal willingly and aware.

That didn't make me feel much sympathy for those who accepted the system's invitation. It more of a second-hand revulsion. The experience had to be nightmarish.

Moving past the chart, I started skimming the facts section. The entries were brief and to the point, but I soon found some of the content was incomprehensible. The letters were ones I understood, but they didn't form words I recognized or could figure out by context.

The name of what my flesh was made of was an excellent example. It was fourteen letters long, started with a Z, and was totally unpronounceable. I abbreviated it to Z14 in my head.

I needed to commit everything to memory eventually, but none of it answered my question. There was no mention of memory or identity loss anywhere in the entry.

Trying to work it out myself, two theories jumped at me. Firstly, it was a result of the transformation but not listed. The second option I came up with was more unnerving. That my current amnesiac state was a result of the systems suppression function.

I shivered at the thought of the latter. The hood hadn't described its function in detail. I could only go off his description of making candidates' functional'. The idea that I needed this much of myself censored to hit that baseline was unnerving.

I didn't know why it had happened or how long it would last. I might be like this until I 'adjusted' on some level psychologically. Or for the rest of my new unnatural existence. Thinking about that, there was only one thing I could do.

No matter how little control I had, it was up to me to decide how to respond to my current circumstances.

Who I'd been before was gone was no more. Whether it was because of the system's suppression, my identity being corroded away by the transformation, or something else didn't matter.

I, as I currently existed, was all there was.

A newborn Dungeon Master. One who needed to decide what that meant to them. It took me an hour and some meditative spinning in my chair to realize I had no idea what it meant to me. Everything about my situation was terrifyingly new.

In the end, I accepted my lack of coherent thoughts on the subject as an answer of sorts. It was half-assed but the best I could do. I needed time.

Thinking of time, I looked at the countdown and arched an eyebrow in surprise. The hood had said I was assigned two weeks, but it was counting down three. That might have been an error, but I didn't think so. Not with how he'd suddenly started working on his computer earlier when I asked.

I couldn't help but laugh at myself. I thought well of the abyss that had placed me in my current predicament. It was sad in a funny way if you looked at it from a certain angle.

Everything was terrible, but I was still alive, and I wanted to stay that way. With my mind as made up as it was going to be, it was time to stop ruminating. Not everything could be understood by thinking. It was time to start doing.

Feeling overwhelmed, I tilted back as far as possible in the chair. Further actually as it tipped and fell back. Landing in the sand, I didn't bother getting up and looked into the sky above me instead. I'd noticed the moons right off but hadn't looked at the stars.

Now I was treated to an inky vault that glittered brilliantly. This world, or at least this region, didn't have much light pollution. Without that interference, the longer I gazed, the more was revealed of the strange heavens above me.

It was as breathtaking as it was unfamiliar. No band of the milky way cut through it nor familiar constellations. Just indifferent beauty as the night continued on its course.

Turning my eyes away, I looked at the desert landscape beneath them. It should have been challenging to see anything but silhouettes even by the light of the moons above. Yet I found I had no such trouble. The land was bathed in silvery blue, but my night vision was perfect aside from that color shift.

I could have started exploring but felt apathetic toward the idea. I didn't know much about what I was supposed to do or how. It felt like a bad idea to proceed without at least trying to know a bit more.

I played back my conversation with the hood in my head. He'd said the system was game-like. That gave me an idea.

"Manual? Tutorial?" I said aloud, wanting to get used to the sound of my voice. I didn't expect anything so convenient to appear, but they did as a pair of pop-ups. I could begin reading or start the tutorial.

Thinking about what I knew about video games, it was better to do the tutorial first. Manuals were practical but might not cover the basics. I'd be better off using it for reference once I understood how things worked.

I closed the manual and selected start for the tutorial. The desert around me shimmered like a heat haze and vanished.