The Fool's Freedom

Alan lost track of time. “Pity,” the figure had said before throwing Alan back into the bone meat grinder. He did all he could to keep his composure. To focus. He didn’t know how to use his title, but there had to be a way. If there was a price, he would pay it.

The agony of getting his fragile body torn up again and again, from the outside and the inside was too much. Whatever thoughts he had managed to gather were scattered amidst his screams. All he could do was wish for death, but death didn’t come.

His mind fell in disarray and he clung to each moment of rare clarity – moments that came as his body was reforming only to be torn up again. His skeleton was walking out of his skin, pulling on nerves and tendons and ripping them apart. The flesh was minced and salted, the blood ran endless, and the will inside of him cracked more and more.

However, it never broke.

It was not his courage, nor worthless hope that kept him going through the pain. It was not a pipe dream of salvation. It was pure, unfiltered hate that surpassed anything Alan had ever felt in his life. He had hated before. He had hated many, and he had hated himself. Or he had thought he had. In comparison to what he felt now, all other times were the tantrums of a child who thought it knew agony.

No sooner than an eternity of torture later, Alan found himself on the long table once again. He had no energy to laugh, cry, taunt, or argue. All he did was stand there, wondering where the pain had gone. Wasn’t he one big nothing without it? All the memories that popped up in his head seemed gray and worthless without the pain.

“I’ve got to congratulate you. You’ve made it further than Bonez did back in the day. Commendable, however, you will break if we continue. Not ‘give in’, simply break. This might all be happening in a realm of… the mind, so to speak, but it has consequences for the real you. I bet your body is out there, foaming at the mouth as this iteration of you is ground to paste again and again. Just accept, little human.”

Alan didn’t respond. He didn’t care. He would not serve anyone. The Thrones, the patrons, his fucking Class, or the bullshit-filled system could all burn and he wouldn’t blink. Alan smiled. That was a lie. He cared a lot. He wanted them to burn. He wanted to tear them apart piece by piece until he was the only thing that mattered. Until his shadow encompassed all those who meaninglessly stood in his way.

“Let’s switch things up a bit. Do you know… mortal beings – something we all start as – have more bones at birth than during their adulthood? See, bones fuse as we grow older. It is a process present in many races, not just you pesky humans. Well, I was a human too, once. The point is, have you wondered what would happen if all of your adult bones fused? Hm? Would the nerves get pinched and broken, would the flesh get torn? Of course, you don’t care about that. But maybe you would care about being a prisoner in your own body? A doll, for my amusement? How about it? Is that a yes? Let’s give it a try then.”

It… burned. First came the fingers. As if his fingers' bones had become heated metal, they burned him from the inside out and clicked together. One by one, twisting and sticking and melting. Soon his hands were caricatures of what they were supposed to be. The same happened to his feet. The bones seemed to find ways to fuse themselves in the worst of positions, ignoring anatomical rules, obstacles, and logic.

The process slowly passed through his whole body. Each step of the way was a new sensation, a new pain. Alan, of course, spent his time screaming and crying. At least his teeth were fused and his throat closed up due to the weird angle his head was forced into.

Then, when the process finished, the offer came again.

The Bone Lord offers you a [Pact].

Do you accept? Y/N

Something inside of his pain-twisted mind snapped. Was he stupid, or were they playing with his head too? This was the System, right in front of him. It was here, he simply wasn’t seeing or feeling it when he called upon it. However, the Bone Lord had offered him the pact again and again and again and the message was bright as day. Was the restriction on him alone, or was it a different cunning trick?

With a newfound belief to which he clung like a drowner to a rope, Alan once again tried to touch upon [Friend of the Spirit World]. He saw nothing in his mind, but he felt it amidst the waves of pain. Through tears and screams, he laughed.

And just as his bones shattered into a million pieces and started reforming again, the world changed. The misty place where he had met the last spirit was once again upon him.

“Mmmm, this is unusual. But a human friend calls, and my humble self, of course, answers.”

A pair of dark ocean eyes stared at him, and Alan stared back. The man was even fatter than he had been before. His skinny legs were lazily kicking the air while he was sitting in the large chair of green and blue that had been there the last time. The blue wavy skin, the plump face with a sharp teethed smile, and the tusks.

This was Odu, alright.

Alan laughed without restraint. He was himself here. His body was fine, and no pain nor weakness was coursing through it. Shadows licked at his skin as if darkness was evaporating from his body. The whispers were not back, but he was meeting spirits after all. The System was at his beck and call too, even if it was a bit sluggish. And most importantly many offers of the Bone Lord remained there for him to see.

“You are a sight –,” Alan choked on his words and took a deep breath, “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Odu.” He had never been as happy to see someone.

Or sore bones. Ha!

“A friend, a friend. Your joy makes me happy. You’ve changed. You’re changing. What is this suffering I sense, what is this hate? Oh my. Such human hate,” the spirit shook his head making the fat around his neck jiggle. “Humans were always good at hating. Those I knew at least. It’s been a while though…”

The spirit leaned forward and for a second the tenacity of the chair beneath him made Alan forget his troubles and what he had gone through. But only for a second. His eyes met those of the spirit.

“Ah! Will you trade me your hate? Will you allow me to bottle it in crystal, and use it to sow chaos upon worlds? Tell me. Or perhaps your skill… a memory of times long gone. No, it is still transforming. Or…” His two eyes grew turbulent with a strange glint as if the moon was reflected upon tidal waves. “Or perhaps, you wish me to take away the offer of the Bone Lord?”

Alan grinned. “I didn’t know I could give you things different than choices.”

Odu nodded. “You can, now. I’ve just decided!”

“I need my hate and my skill. The Bone Lord I don’t.”

“Pity, but a great offer too!” Odu slapped his knee. “Mmmm, I will offer—”

Odu paused. Something changed. The misty world churned and flowed and in the next moment, Alan was sat on a soft chair before an ancient table. Odu was on the side, seemingly… seething.

“A trade without me, Fatty of the Waves? What a shame. Shame. SHAME.”

A voice echoed. Male or female, it made no sense. The mist became thicker and came together to slowly form a silhouette of a small petite woman. Slowly the details, as if refined by a carver’s invisible chisel, started filling out. She was old and she was wrinkly and hunched over, holding a cane and scowling at Alan. Then she was young and pretty and without clothes, winking at him and laughing as she drank from a chalice.

She danced and jumped around Odu, who had grown grumpy. Finally, her features settled into that of a woman with a body as if carved of crystal and mists and legs that became more translucent than the lower one looked. It made one think she was walking in a different world. She probably was.

Her face was a twist of sharp features accentuated with gemstones for eyes and a smile like a knife.

“You meddle where you are not wanted,” Odu said.

“We all wondered where you went the last time. The world hears the whispers, remember. And here you are, sneaking out before anyone else could answer the strange call, and dealing with… a human of all things.”

Her eyes froze on Alan and suddenly she was all in his face. He didn’t so much as flinch.

“Oh my, you’ve suffered. And that mark…” Something in her eyes changed. “Allow me a courtesy gift to celebrate our meeting. Hate can be a good thing depending on one’s goals.” The woman touched Alan’s face before he could move away. Gentle warmth spread through him as if he had taken a shower and gone beneath fresh sheets and a warm blanket.

He sighed deeply, and while his hate was like a mountain of burning steel against the current of warmth, it seemed to solidify further and cool down. Whatever trauma was about to sprout from all the suffering that had caused his rage, was encased and turned into motivation. Surprisingly, it only made the hate sharper and more destructive. And… easier to weaponize.

There was a lot of value in that.

“Thank you, miss…?”

The spirit woman laughed, all the while Odu looked as if there was a stormcloud above him. Alan did a double-take. There was indeed a storm cloud above his head, spewing some lightning and a drizzle upon the miserable spirit.

Odu met his eyes and took out a fishing rod from somewhere. He hit the cloud, sending it off into the mists as if it were a baseball. The woman laughed again, her voice like bells.

“He called me a miss! Did you hear that, Odu? I’m a miss!”

“A meddling eyesore is a better-suited adjective for you, Enid,” Odu mumbled.

The woman turned on an invisible heel all joy gone from her. “Oh? I don’t think I heard you properly, old fatty.” He opened his mouth but she waved a hand to dismiss him and turned back toward Alan, “Did you know he cheated you last time? That Tome he gave is a broken item, defective. Did he tell you that, hmm? He bragged about getting rid of it in a deal, and now I sense it in you.”

Alan frowned. It had worked just fine for him. “No.”

“If you put your skills in it, you will lose them to the Tome the moment you cast the modified version. They will become one with it until the day you erase them from its pages, and then they will be lost.”

What?! Alan’s blood ran cold. Nothing even remotely similar to what she was saying was in the item description. Could Spirits manipulate that too?! He had already put two of the skills inside of the Tome. Thankfully, he hadn’t used them. The thought of losing [Curse: Stolen Life] was terrifying as it was his only skill that allowed him to still cling to life. He threw a look toward Odu, who, rather than argue, looked mighty uncomfortable.

“I’d have returned the skills to you, eventually… It’s nothing permanent.” Odu said. It was odd, seeing the strange spirit almost ashamed.

“After blackmailing him for a better deal next time, you mean. I knew spending time trapped by that old Hag had rubbed off on you.”

“It’s what we do! We trick mortals in our dealings!”

“Not so maliciously! And not when we’ve been barred from interfering with them for so long! Plus, I know you’re not a sensitive one, but you cannot be that dense! Do you know who proclaimed him a friend to the world? Hm?”

“No…”

She mouthed a word. Alan didn’t understand it, or hear it. But the world did. His mind became blank and when he came to, he felt as if he had just woken up. And then there was Odu, smiling at him with wide eyes a desperate look on his face.

“I’ll make it up to you, little friend. I’m sure you will be satisfied!”

What is going on… Did the new spirit just save him from a grave mistake, and even ensure him additional benefits? She knew Thorn? He wanted to ask her but the words caught in his throat, unable to leave.

She seemed to read his mind as she suddenly sat on his shoulder, tens of times smaller than she had been. “Some of us know respect and the old ways. Times have changed, however. No one who will hurt you for the title you are marked with will respond to its call, but you will run into them eventually. It is our duty, to help a friend before that happens. Not all spirits are… friendly, as us.” she said, in a grave tone with not a trace remaining of her playfulness.

Then she was back at full size and gave Alan a gentle look. “My name is Enid. I have many titles, but this will do for now. It is my understanding you have a few problems we might be able to help with. So, what’s first? The pesky Bone Lord’s offer, or the fact that you’re dying? Well, the latter seems to be on its way to resolve itself anyway, but a helping hand wouldn’t hurt.”

She was reading him better than Odu, and the mention of him dying was like thunder echoing in his ears.

“And I’m sure Odu will be more than happy to take a look at that Tome he so recklessly gave you, and maybe even put something special in place of what you will lose. Right?”

The fatty’s sharp teeth pressed together, and he nodded his head along with his whole body. The chair stood the test.

Once again, meeting Thorn had proven to be the greatest boon of his journey so far.