The Fool's Freedom

[Monochrome Armor] activated on its own, or maybe it didn’t. Alan didn’t care at the moment as he had become just an observer of his mind and body processes.

The change was immediate and strange. It started with his skin, making it paler, and colorless, but the shadows didn’t stop there. The change didn’t come from there alone. Something else stirred in his mind. A dark energy that terrified him, but also felt like it was him. It shifted constantly, bringing along a slew of emotions.

Its instability reminded him of how shadows flickered to adapt under the unstable light of a candle… and of himself.

The two connected dark energies connected. One came from the outside while the other came from the inside. His body was the bridge that brought them together and helped them become one And so, the [Monochrome Armor] came to being.

Swirling like invisible air currents, the shadows around him were both still and unceasingly moving at the same time. The shadowy shields that protected him. Then, where did the speed come from? The attributeless mana in his body was almost gone, replaced by dark energy of different shades that felt more potent and much more dangerous. It was his to control though. So, what were the changes? What had been the reaction to the Deathless Plate that had protected him for a time? Was it a simple manifestation of his willpower, or something much more?

Alan kept observing. It was not even certain he was supposed to be able to cast the skill again after it ran out the first time. He certainly hadn’t had enough time to reset the limit fully, unless the conversation with Wilbis and the hazy events preceding it had gone for longer than he thought. However, he did. Again and again, he cast it, and it always came back. It was on the fifth cast that things became different, but it was almost imperceptible. Something had changed.

The flow of mana, the strength, the energy behind it. It was not only his now, and it reached far beyond his flesh and touched upon the mind and the soul. Alan tried to follow the elusive thread but it always slipped away. Like a shadow. It could appear in an instant, then it was gone.

Wasn’t this the essence of shadows? An incorporeal element connected with trickery and illusions, with the dark and unknown… Alan’s skills manifested in a very different way. His blades were hard as steel and his armor protected him from very real attacks. Then, did that mean the shadows were no longer shadows once he used them? Was his understanding all wrong? Maybe it was his will that made them different, adaptive to his subconsciousness.

His mind grew agitated as the darkness took deeper roots than ever. Again, he cast [Monochrome Armor] and again he watched as the shadowy energy came from both the outside and the inside. He went searching for the source of the darkness in his mind, but all he found was himself. His memories, his experiences, his beliefs.

Then, he followed it as it met the shadows coming from the outside and seeping into his skin and watched the process of them becoming one.

Something changed and Alan grew disoriented. The deep state of focus disappeared as if it never was. He tried to open his eyes but couldn’t. No. His eyes were open now. He was in a dark hall, lurking in the shadows like a predator stalking its prey. An observer.

His attention was drawn by an iron grip as if the Deathless Plate was before his eyes. However, this time it was by a man. Young, slender, and tall to the point of being lanky, dressed only in a pair of loose pants. His hair was black and fell as if it was wet, obscuring his eyes. His body was pale and smooth, without a single scar or blemish, apart from a strange symbol of two snakes on the nape of his neck. One black, one white.

Alan saw each detail clearly and felt a pang of terror and respect as he gazed upon the young man. It felt almost like meeting family. He tried to move, but his body was not his. His eyes were not his.

Was this a vision or a hallucination? Had he damaged himself with the constant prodding and examination of the processes in his mind?

“You cannot hide from me, old friend,” the man spoke. His voice was quiet, raspy, and all-encompassing. He walked down the hallway with his hands in his pockets. The dim light followed him as if he was the center of the world and all else could be left to rot in the oily darkness. “Is this your choice?”

There was a change in the scene as the darkness shifted to reveal an armored alien man. Heavy steel covered him from neck to toe, revealing only the bright diamond-like skin of his face, and the golden hair standing like a crown on his head. A heavy sword rested in his hands, tip pointed at the ground.

“You misunderstand. I do NOT hide. Light’s role is to destroy the darkness, to chase it away from the lives of mortals, and to make the Realm a better place. You thread on a path that is forbidden by our teachings. To embrace the darkness within oneself is to be devoid of purpose and reason for growth. You are supposed to battle the demons and devils of the mind, not let them take hold of you. The path you want to walk on is wrong.”

The lanky man stopped and the darkness shuddered as his head finally raised to meet the golden gaze of the armored man. Two eyes, as dark as an abyss became the center of existence for a brief moment.

“Do you know why I have no shadow?” the first man asked, ignoring the heavy words. “It is mostly symbolic. I have fully embraced my nature, yet I still change. If I was a monk, I would let the darkness pass through, without allowing it to affect me and be a stone against the current. If I was a soldier, I would struggle with it in my dreams, while adding to their weight under the banners of light, turning a blind eye to the darkness following my actions. If I were a ruler, I would think of myself more than my subjects, and so I would be their sun, a bane of evil. But I am myself, and I have embraced both good and bad.” The lanky man smiled and Alan felt the shadows shudder and withdraw, revealing rows of soldiers all around him. In the back, the silhouettes of mages holding fire and light peeked through the darkness. “I greet my darkness each day, and I let it swallow the light if need be. And so, this is my path. I harm no one but those who seek my anger, and I wish for nothing more than to be left alone.”

“You’re a danger!” The voice of the alien man thundered and the darkness disappeared revealing a gray world, devoid of color. Only the army, a million men strong, shone with power.

“As I said, only if you provoke me,” the man with no shadow whispered.

There was a chaos of colors as skills unlike any Alan had seen were let loose, making the world tremble beneath their might. Dragons roared in the sky and Great Wyrms rose from the dirt. But the lanky man simply smiled and watched as the very shadows the massive army cast upon the earth turned against them.

The vision fell apart…

Alan found himself looking at the lanky man again. He seemed wounded now, his flesh bleeding with darkness, but he still walked proud and uncaring. The wounds were closing slowly with each step he took on a foot-beaten road.

Someone appeared behind him and stabbed at his heart with speed like lightning. The blade connected and appeared on the other side in a burst of darkness. The lanky man didn’t react as more and more assassins appeared from thin air and stabbed at him, their blade burning the very air they touched with the poison coating them.

Shadows swirled and his hands became blades, his body shifted and twisted like a shadow, falling apart and revealing its true nature. A monster of darkness that didn’t care for any of its attackers as it passed through blades unharmed, before becoming solid once again and stabbing with its own.

Far behind the fight, a figure rose from the shade of a tree. The lanky man, dressed in a loose shirt and the same baggy pants, watched dispassionately as the shadow monster slaughtered the assassins. One of them tried to escape, only to be swallowed by an explosion of blackness as dark ropes bound him and suffocated the life out of him. It had taken only the rise of a finger.

“To deny the darkness in oneself, to reject it, is a coward’s path,” the man whispered. Alan looked around but there was no one else. Was the man talking to Alan? What was this?

“If you have taken a step on a path, commit to it, and take hold of both your inner light and your inner darkness. One should be kept clean, an anchor for the storms and challenges that come for us. And the other can bathe the world in blood and darkness. There are no shadows without light. And no light, without the darkness.”

The man’s eyes turned toward Alan and a smile broke on his face.

“Nothing is given for free. Take control.”

***

Alan gasped as he awoke in the empty chamber and leaned on the wall. He examined himself but everything seemed normal. The words ‘take control’ kept echoing in his ears as if someone was whispering them next to him.

Quickly looking over his skill descriptions didn’t show any changes. Yet, something was different. Focusing again Alan pushed some mana out. It was not attributeless like before, instead having a dark shadowy quality to it like it became when it cast his shadow skills. He frowned. Would that prevent him from using the normal skills? Or would it change them?

[Mana Zap] went off on the other side of the room just before. A small firework of sparks. Alan frowned. The skill was absolutely the same as before, although he felt a bit more familiar with it now.

A second cast allowed him to observe the paths the mana took through his body and the changes that occurred at the point of the small explosion. He shook his head. Nothing made sense to him at the moment. His mind kept going back to the vision of the lanky man. Alan felt like the strange familiar presence was still with him, although he wasn’t certain if he had seen a vision of the past, future, or present. What had [Monochrome Armor] shown him? And why?

Take control, huh?

He decided to go out, take a breath of air, buy some stuff, and possibly find the other [Warlock].

Going out of the tiny room felt as if he had been reborn. The passage of time was lost on him, but it had at most been a day… or maybe two. It didn’t matter.

Alan did his best to memorize the general direction of his room as he exited the rows and rows of strange angular buildings and sank deep into the Outpost. Now that he was walking alone it felt much different. He stopped at a few places and used some of the low-grade cores he had to buy simple-looking shirts and pants that were miles away from anything he had found in the sanctuary. He also used the opportunity to stock up on food, and even some spirit water.

In the end, he had spent about half of his low-grade cores, which was a decent price considering everything he had acquired. He still didn’t know what the cores were used for, but there would be time for that later.

No one of those in the outpost reacted strangely to him, or his appearance. Then again, he supposed the place was used to seeing strange travelers on the daily, and he was hardly anyone worthy of note. At least the new clothes made him feel a bit less out of place.

Some simple leather armor would also be a good addition, but the only place he found sold enchanted equipment that was way out of his price range.

Finally, hoping that he had chosen the correct direction he reached the other end of the outpost and started looking around. Many small buildings were set in the shade of the looming walls. Most were closed and blended in, but few stuck out with colors and products. The people he asked didn’t know much about anyone by the name of Bonez until finally, a shopkeeper who sold trinkets of all sorts that seemed like something more suited to a crafts class than an outpost in the middle of a hostile world pointed him in the right direction.

It was plenty obvious once he found it. It was a small building tucked in the shade of the wall, in the same style as every other, but decorated with all sorts of strange misshaped bones. Some had grown out like trees in impossible ways that made it certain they were not natural at all; he struggled to imagine a creature making use of such skeletons. Other, more ‘normal bones hung, carved, and colored. There were humans, lisarni, and all other manners of skulls Alan had never seen before.

He tentatively walked through the door. The insides were dark, despite the few burning candles that also seemed made of bone.

“Hello?” Alan called.

A strange rattling responded.