The Fool's Freedom

Getting to the Outpost posed an actual challenge. The fighting was far from them because they were surrounded by rolling hills and terrain that offered little ways of traversing it. All of those challenges became less and less of a problem the closer they got to the large flat terrain that was the actual battlefield. And with a lot of curses and some slip-ups, mostly on Alan’s side, they made it to the bottom with only a few scrapes. There were a few smaller parasites along that were quickly dispatched with a few blood swords.

Leveling a lot in this place was a priority, but Alan considered the Outpost more important at the moment. He wanted to be ‘recognized’ in some way to stop others like the cowardly lizard [Aura Warrior] from just deciding he needed to die. Plus, he would have access to information, maybe skills. Not that he needed more skills, but knowledge on how to work with what he had or improve the [Mana Zap] he had picked for its long-range was something that needed doing.

He almost regretted not choosing [Bewildering Step] instead of it, as rare skills had proven time and time again, they were much more complicated than they initially let on. He had made his bed though, and he would sleep in it. A long-range skill would make him a much more formidable opponent.

He also considered asking Zirida to teach him how to fight, but that would come after he built up the trust some more. The way she moved was not how mages or clerics from tales moved. She was fast, graceful, and a trained fighter with experience far surpassing his.

Alan also used the opportunity to put Xil’s cube away in his shadow inventory for both of their sakes. Revealing him when he didn’t have the power to protect even himself would be a stupid thing, especially considering the variety of powers that were gathered in this place. He had no pull, no influence, and was probably one of the weakest beings on the whole fractal.

Everyone started from somewhere.

The black plate that hung above the Outpost like a decree of Death itself still messed with Alan’s head too. Thoughts of his life before the System, of pain and failure and self-doubt made him stumble from time to time. They came in waves and were much more vivid than his imagination or even dreams had ever been. It was a strange thing as if a dark cloud was following him around and whispering about the sweet release of death.

But he saw that there was no release to be had. If Emerson was among the people chained to the Deathless Plate, then that was a destiny much worse than simply dying. What would it feel like to die over and over, fighting until you couldn’t only to be forced to fight again seconds after death? There was nothing he could do to help him at this point though.

There were also some even more worrying thoughts swirling around his head. Some new corner of Alan’s mind whispered that dying a few times would be very helpful to him, that it would make him stronger. His rational side condemned the idea though. To put yourself through that willingly you needed to have screws loose.

Alan followed behind Zirida, careful to keep his attention on anything else but the ethereal chains and the Deathless Plate. The sounds of battle were distant but some of the shockwaves could be felt even under his feet. Each strike of the three towers was like the hand of a god descending to squash the sinners. Thankfully they were aiming nowhere near them, opting to unleash the mighty attacks near the edge of the infinite chasm. The war machines upon the walls did the same, shooting down anything that managed to make it past the thousands of defenders.

The danger for him and Zirida came from stragglers. Monsters that had for one reason or another decided to move around the edges or go to the mountains to hide and grow.

Thankfully, they met only a few parasites on the smaller side that posed no problem. He quickly dispatched them one by one with a few shadow blades, while a dagger of blood was enough to destroy a few at a time. They were too weak to give him levels.

Slowly and carefully, they made their way in a half-moon around the battlefield, sticking to the uneven terrain and using the hills and rocks as shields.

The walls were becoming larger and larger the closer they got. They were made of grey stone, with no segments or indentations, as if one solid piece was carved and bent into the shape needed to create them. And they were tall. Taller than most residential buildings had been on earth. Alan figured that apart from some of the colossal insectoid creatures nothing else would be able to scale them. Maybe the treant shifters if they were left alone.

Why were the monsters charging anyway? Was there a purpose, or were they drawn out intentionally to feed the coffers of the rules of this place? Was this just a ‘farming’ operation?

There were multiple large gates at the base of the massive walls and they headed for the nearest one. Zirida had donned her cold expression, no sign of the person Alan had spent about a day or two crawling through the dark with.

As soon as they were about a hundred meters away there was movement. Some of what he assumed were the guards noticed them and headed their way. Zirida held up the pendant around her neck.

Alan didn’t care about that. The whispers of the Deathless Plate became stronger than ever and he barely stopped his restless hands from cutting his own neck. All he needed was a dagger…

A strong hand pushed him from the back and into the ground. [Mortal Peril] was silent, but it still hurt and came without a warning. Then, he felt his hands being pulled back and tied, while Zirida’s voice was angrily protesting. He couldn’t care about it. Death was close and wanted him.

A palm came into his field of view, close to his face and Alan’s eyes widened as something started burning beneath his skin. The thoughts and yearning of death were blown away by a massive amount of anger that was rightfully bubbling beneath. Why was he being treated like this?

He tried to struggle but whoever was holding him was like a rock.

“We certainly would not want to offend a [Red Cleric], miss, especially a promising one such as you. However, it is for his safety and our safety. The Deathless Plate is too strong and while my partner’s ability can balance its effect for a while it introduces a new host of problems. Before seeing the Outpost Master, your friend here is in danger of harming himself or others. We’re just following procedure.”

Damn right, I will harm someone. Fucking bastard!

“Please remain calm. There have been no new arrivals today so the Outpost Master is free and will see to him shortly,” a second male voice added.

Alan gritted his teeth and tried to calm himself down but he felt as if destruction was his only purpose. The anger was growing unceasingly and he grinned. [Sacrificial Attack] could be applied to any attack of his choosing. What would happen if he boosted his bite? The fools won’t see it coming. Something started stirring inside of him.

“Did you… give him a berserker buff?!” Zirida suddenly asked.

“Only a small one. Our experience shows that anger is the best cure for the effects of the Plate.”

“Stop it! Now!”

There was silence before Alan felt the anger withdraw, and the depression return.

What the fuck are these motherfuckers doing?! Is this Florence 2.0 or some bullshit?

And [Shadow Mind] was not doing shit to stop it. The skill was barely functioning under the aura of the tablet. He barely opened his mouth to curse at them when the strong arm that was holding him down lifted him like he weighed nothing and set him down on his feet. It was a semi-normal-looking bearded man. His skin had a strange dark green sheen, and his eyes were like fresh leaves. Trees seemed to be the theme in the fractal, although this was the complete opposite of the weird monsters. The full bushy beard and his long hair were brown, creating a strange contrast. He was as large as Emerson, maybe more so. His armor was pristine and decorated with green and silver.

“Sorry ‘bout that. You alright?” the guard asked.

“As long as you stop fucking with my head, I might be one day,” Alan responded and glared at Beardy’s partner. A thin effeminate man with an innocent smile. His features were gentle and so was the smile that played at the corner of his mouth. His long black hair was braided and two pointy ears were enough to make Alan forget why he was mad.

An actual elf?

“My buff usually helps. You must be one angry guy to have such a strong reaction.” Alan frowned and the elf laughed. “My bad, my bad.”

“Do you eat your people?” Alan asked, making the laughter cease.

“What?”

“Are you a cannibal?”

The two guards and Zirida looked at him oddly. Alan half-expected the man to react with offense to the question but he simply shrugged. “I’ve never had to. I don’t suppose we’re delicious? Have you tried?”

Now it was Alan’s turn to stare blankly at the weird question. A bout of anxiety clenched at his chest and forced him to think of that one time he had missed the bottom step and tumbled down into a large woman. She had caught him with no issues, which for some reason had only made the situation more embarrassing.

Alan shook his head and took a deep breath, “This is bullshit. Where’s that guy who will stop that thing from making me kill myself? I will tell you, I’m completely over mind games.”

The green man patted Alan on the back, “Come, come. Since you have the support of Ms. Zirida over here, you have nothing to worry about. We respect [Red Clerics] where I come from. My name is Byrr, this is Feyrith and we are on guard duty today. Good thing you picked our gate, you’d probably already be chained if it was up to some of the other folk.”

“Can you untie me?” Alan asked.

“Sorry, no. It’s for your own good, and mine. I’m not fond of killing, and I would have to if you attack someone. It gives me nightmares, so please don’t.”

I swear one day I will meet someone that’s not insane.

“I will see you in a bit,” Zirida said from the side and Alan nodded. She had helped him a lot and he couldn’t expect her to do more. She disappeared into the gate and soon the two guards led him inside. The left took the front while Byrr, the man in green, walked behind him without letting go of the bindings around Alan’s hands.

The two chatted idly, while Alan was trying to fight the strengthening influence of the Plate. He could barely focus on what was around him, but he still managed to see some of the details of the Outpost. It was more of a bustling city in his eyes though. Their Sanctuary couldn’t compare.

The streets were wide and filled with activities. Most people were armed and armored, but some seemed like regular shopkeepers, builders, cooks, blacksmiths, and everything else you could find in a settlement such as this.

Various smells reached his nose, promising strange foods and experiences, while the multitude of races made him feel strange. Most were human, despite some of the weird traits they sported.

At some point, Alan closed his eyes and walked blindly. Byrr was doing a great job of stirring him in the right direction and he let his feet do the work while he battled the darkness threatening to take hold of his mind.

Soon, they were under the towers and the pressure became almost unbearable.

The elf said something, but Alan couldn’t hear him. Then with a pop in his ears as if elevation had changed. The influence of the Deathless Plate disappeared and all was suddenly fine. Alan opened his eyes. He was in a large circular hall with curving arches and a tall ceiling in the middle which was glowing a complicated symbol that made his eyes tear up. He quickly averted his gaze and looked around. Many large windows revealed mountain peaks and reddish clouds.

Are we on top of a tower?

The two guards escorting him were standing respectfully and looking toward a massive desk that was set in the middle of the mostly empty hall. Alan also turned toward the desk. He felt the grip of Byrr disappear and with it, the bindings went loose and disappeared too.

A person was sitting at the desk. A thin and bald middle-aged man, that was scribbling something down on a piece of translucent parchment. He looked up and Alan saw heavy bags under his eyes. The fatigue seemingly disappeared as the man beamed, and jumped on his desk. Standing up on the desk the man looked to be only a bit more than a meter in height.

A gnome?

“Oh! OH! A person from the current cycle of integrations! How fun, how marvelous!” he jumped down. The guards respectfully took a step back, then they were gone without a word. Before Alan could turn and look for any exits or holes in the ground a chair suddenly materialized behind him and pushed at the back of his knees, making him sit.

Then he was next to a table, and dizzy as hell.

“Tell me everything! Did you have magic before the integration? How did your human race handle the System? I guess many died, tsk. You bear the marks of a lesser tier. Nevertheless, what’s the most fun experience you’ve had? No, no. How did the local ecosystem react to the change? Or maybe yours was a merger with different words? It’s a common theme and one of the best cases as the number of treasures and information that could be found is simply astounding even for us! Hm. You don’t have a patron? That’s no good, patrons and [Warlocks] go in hand like fractals and boredom! Oh, silly me. Tea? Maybe something stronger? Wait, who did the rune work of your Myriad Tongues? That’s unacceptable! A conflict between the trait you sport and the enhancement is inevitable and it’s a matter of time before you start speaking three languages at the same time! I bet it's one of those newbie rune mages, I will have a word with them. Hopefully, it was not that expensive. Have been to any dungeons? Do you have materials to trade? I’m interested! Oh, I’m so rude. First things first! What’s your name?”

Alan felt sweat drip down his back. The short man was standing on his chair and his face was stretched by an expression that promised violence through curiosity.

“Uhm, hi,” Alan finally managed, eloquently.