The Fool's Freedom

In what seemed to be becoming a pattern of fainting and waking up aching all over, Alan woke up. All the usual signs of being alive were there – pain wracking his whole body, a mouth full of dirt. This time was different though, as he was being dragged through the dusty dirty tunnel-like hallways of whatever this underground complex was. He took a second.

His head hurt like a motherfucker. He had suffered a few hangovers at a low point in his life but this was a whole new experience. If someone told him his head was a watermelon stomped on by a herd of raging donkeys, he would believe them.

Was he not good enough for death? Was the hooded scythe-waving bastard too busy for him? How was he still alive and suffering?!

Alan let himself get dragged, trying to focus on the blue screens at the back of his mind that promised at least a bit of a distraction from the worst headache of his life. Thank the system his belly was as empty as it could be, or he would have choked on his own vomit by now. Actually, that might have been a good thing.

Level up!

You have reached level 16!

+ 9 Attribute Point

Your trait has advanced. Strong-willed has become Survivor’s Will (Rare).

Trait: Survivor’s will (Rare)

You persevere through hardship and pain, dancing between life and death and holding on only due to your strong will.

+10% to your Will attribute.

Mental attacks affect you less the closer you are to death.

It takes more to kill you than it would a regular human.

You have excessively exhausted and strained your body. Due to the effects of [Limited Vitality], your Vitality has been permanently reduced by 1.

Yay for living to die horribly another day.

He vaguely remembered killing a bunch of rats, but they had been low-level… it was all a haze though. How many did he kill to get 3 levels? Didn’t matter right now, gains were gains.

The trait upgrade was kind of insane while the vitality reduction could go fuck itself. He had lost count of how many times he had almost died since waking up in this shit forest. This couldn’t scare him.

He put 2 points in Will and 6 in Mind, leaving only 1 on reserve for any eventual loss of physical attributes. Will had been serving him quite well so far and Mind was his second-highest stats so he hoped it would contribute to that as there was probably a deep connection between the two. If the System had offered him a new skill around level 15 things would have been different but as it stood, he only had his two shitty ones and a bunch of traits. If he survived whatever was next it would probably be a good idea to dabble into what [Mind Jab] was exactly and how to improve it. Others had advanced a bunch of their skills… only he hadn’t.

There was a flash of a rat with its brains blown out of its skull in his mind, but it quickly passed. Was it a memory or a vision of the future? Or brain damage?

INFORMATION:

Name:

Alan Morgan

Race:

Human

Class:

Adult

Level:

16

Titles:

Pioneer

ATTRIBUTES:

1

Strength

15

Dexterity

15

Vitality

4

Will

38(+3)

Mind

30

Magic

10

TRAITS:

Severe Weakness; Tongues of the four corners; Limited Vitality; Survivor’s will

SKILLS:

Efficient Basic Movement; Mind Jab

Then, there was the quest.

You have received a Quest: Level up!

Reach level 25 and pick a class before the tutorial period is over.

Time left: 3 days, 2 hours.

Reward: Enchanted item

It did answer a few questions although things could have been organized much better from his point of view. The system was really dropping the ball on this one, especially considering the mortality rate. Also, only two skills until one got a class was absolute bullshit. Well, certainly, some of the people in his group had gotten lucky. Ashlyn’s set seemed to work quite well too, now that she had a weapon. Walter’s was questionable, but not as much as Emerson’s. Purifying water and hitting hard?

The dragging started slowing down and Alan considered opening his eyes. The earth was soft enough and it didn’t feel too bad despite his body’s multiple open wounds. Still, it wouldn’t be good if he got caught by some giant spider who was currently bringing him to its children for supper. He shuddered and forced his eyes open. There was absolutely no result as everything was shrouded in complete darkness. No blue light, so no light bugs. Pity. He considered his options - let himself get dragged a bit more or fight back now and get left with whatever it was that now knew he was awake and had the advantage of whatever senses it used to find its way down here.

The first one sounded good enough. The ground was comfortable enough and it felt like he was moving through fine sand. He’d probably suffer the consequences later but it was not like this place had showers and he was disgusting either way. There were wet spots all over his clothes, making them stick to his body. Whether it was his blood or rat guts was inconsequential.

The dragging continued on until he saw a change. The darkness gave way to weak yellow light that flickered as if it came from multiple candles in a gentle draft.

Alan grunted and gathering all the strength he had kicked out with his right leg as it hurt less, then turned on his stomach when he heard a shriek and felt whatever was dragging him disappear. He stood up shakily and ran into the tunnel’s wall, his head spun. He blinked a few times to try and alleviate the burst of pain that followed staring into the lit corridor. His headache somehow got worse and he felt stomach juices rise up and burn his parched throat.

If only I had some of that grass to suck on… Alan shuddered as a second wave of nausea hit him. He raised a hand toward the still-unclear assailants as if that would help in stopping them from attacking. He didn’t get mauled so apparently it did.

He waited a few seconds, took a deep breath, and tried to focus on them again and wished he hadn’t. Two creatures, with tiny wrinkly fleshy bodies that looked fragile and weak, and heads that were as big as the bodies. There were only holes for mouths and no eyes at all, the naked skull showing the vague outline of a brain and veins beneath. Mouths full of sharp teeth made the look of a ‘nightmare baby’ complete.

The two creatures stood there giving out strange clicking noises and moving their larger-than-watermelon heads in small fidgety patterns. Alan noticed a movement and saw another one of the creatures appear and stop behind him. It was dragging his bag. A bit behind was another, with his spear.

Then came a whole horde of them, each carrying a bunch of gruesomely killed rats.

Alan’s gaze lingered on the bag, thinking of the sweet, sweet grass stalks, then shook his head and almost fell down.

“What. The. Fuck.” His voice barely broke the silence. It was weak and his throat burned from the sudden effort. Yet, it was all he could do. Put all of his confusion, terror, anger, and even more confusion, into those three magic words that seemed to follow him everywhere.

The creatures just stood, waiting. There was a sound much like the one his own body had made as he was being dragged coming from the same direction as the light source, only it came from something heavier. The light seemed to be bobbing up and down in rhythm with the sound.

A voice echoed through the tunnel. “Now, now. Fleshy don’t scare little babes. Yes. They won’t hurt you. No, no.” The voice was… inhuman, unnatural. It didn’t speak English but Alan clearly understood the strange words. His brain processed them as if it was his mother tongue. [Tongue of the four corners] was finally paying dividends, although he was not sure if he would like what the source of the voice had to say. Couldn’t they have just eaten him alive like normal monsters? Fuck.

“Can you understand me?” Alan tried to yell, figuring there was no point in procrastinating. What came out was barely a raspy whisper. Did the trait even work both ways? The light source stopped moving, and then with much hurried movement, it covered the remaining distance. A few of the horror babies rushed towards the new arrival.

It was… half of a humanoid body. A male torso attached to what looked to be a rectangular, fully iron base. It was hardly big enough to contain legs as it was only a bit thicker than a palm. There were many strange markings on it that gave a low glow. They seemed rough and some of them fluttered like a light bulb that was not making good contact. As if someone had cut a man in half and then put him onto a platform similar to the ones on the bottom of toy figurines.

It was moving by leaning forward and using its long and strange arms to grab both sides of the walls of the tunnel and drag itself forward. Alan noticed all sorts of handles embedded into the walls. Some looked like they belonged to weapons, and others were just simple pieces of scrap metal or even wood.

The creature’s face was mostly human, apart from two smaller eyes diagonally below the main ones. Strange red grooves and burn scars littered the bald head and the rest of the body. It was a man made of cracked iron.

It dragged itself until it could clearly illuminate Alan with the light attached to its neck with a strap. A dirty strangely shaped crystal that nonetheless gave off soft yellow light as if many candles were trapped inside of it. It was mesmerizing to look at, but Alan tore his eyes away.

He felt he should have been surprised or at the very least scared, but apart from silent resignation, he felt nothing. He had almost died way too many times and his only wish was that the creature was not as brutal as the snake horrors above. And at least the pain would stop.

“Babies have brought a gift, yes, yes, a gift. Fleshy gift.” The man, if the creature could be called that, scratched the few small monsters behind the ears and they clicked with their teeth in happiness.

Then it turned to Alan who tensed and felt even more pain. The four strange eyes that lacked a pupil seemed deranged and otherworldly but Alan forced himself to return the gaze.

The half-man giggled, flashing rotted but still sharp-looking teeth. There were a few metal ones that were bigger and out of place but nonetheless looked menacing. “Pinkskin, oh so pink,” he giggled then frowned and Alan took a step back. “It’s hurt. Pink is hurt and it bleeds, bleeds.”

There was a long sniff, longer than Alan could force himself to do on a good day.

“Rat blood, but pinkskin blood too. Come, follow. I heal. Come pinkskin, come.” With a sudden movement that flexed the muscles in those long limbs, it grabbed something protruding from the top of the tunnel and spun, then proceeded to drag itself where it had come from. The small horror babies around Alan screeched and followed. The two that had been dragging him turned their eyeless faces towards him in a silent question.

He could walk back into the darkness and die to some more of those angry rats. Or he could see where this led. The creature did not seem unfriendly. This was turning into a pretty straightforward horror choose your own adventure story.

I am going fucking insane.

Alan followed, barely keeping himself upright and utilizing whichever wall handle he could grab onto under the dimming light carried by the man. The two small creatures that had waited for him chattered with their teeth, much like when the man had pet them.

It was not a long walk as Alan found himself in a wide cavern, illuminated by many more of those crystals in all shapes and forms. There were rotting shelves of wood littered with vials containing various liquids or dry herbs. There were jars with meats, parts of animals, skin, fungus, and all sorts of other nasty things Alan couldn’t recognize. There was a whole shelf of books and one was open on a clean desk nearby.

A few more tunnels led out of the strange hall and he saw some of the small creatures skittering around on the walls and into smaller holes around the ceiling of the place.

Alcoves were dug between the tunnels, storing all sorts of scrap and things. One was full of rat corpses and a small army of the small creatures was currently depositing what Alan was sure were his victims into the pile.

There was another alcove, with a thin piece of cloth hanging like a curtain upon the entrance.

All other sorts of strange devices, tools, hammers, and whatnot littered the place. There was even a small forge of sorts near the opening of the tunnel they had come out of. It was a crudely made thing but looked sturdy.

The middle of the room was the most out of place. It was clean and smooth and stood apart from the rest of it like a shiny jewel on a bed of dirt. The floor was dug lower in a circle encompassing another circle - a bronze circular dais, a few meters in diameter. Complicated markings littered every centimeter of it, except a small corner where Alan could see some tools laid down.

The man dragged its iron base on the stone floor, creating a sound that was anything but pleasant. He neared Alan who was still taking it all in with surprising speed and reached out with its arm, handing Alan what seemed to be a small vial. The arm was much bigger and Alan gulped at the sinewy muscles beneath the stoney skin. The man could probably tear his head off with one arm. Probably.

“What is that?” Alan asked. Please don’t eat me.

The alien man gave a strange smile he probably considered friendly, “Heals, heals, for pinkskin. Arm is hurt, body is weak. Pinkskin needs to be strong to live. Yes. I help, yes, yes.”

Alan considered his options. Refuse and die? Drink and probably die?

“It will heal me?” he asked, taking the potion with his shaky right hand. It wasn’t red like the healing potions in his games. It was a blacker shade of black.

“Yes, heal, yes.”

“Why are you helping me?”

“I am so lonely. Too long, no speaks. No one. Only babies…” Its face suddenly turned into a menacing snarl that wiped away whatever human features the man had, “… and the cursed demon.”

A demon?

Alan gulped. “Will you kill me?”

Smart. Now ask it if it fucks its babies too.

Thankfully the creature smiled again shaking its head, “Kill? No. I need help. During the ritual, yes, I’m close to finish.” The half-man pointed towards the bronze dais.

“I drink the potion, it heals me, then I help you finish a ritual?” he asked. He could feel every fiber of his being screaming to get away, but he was barely standing as it was. Stalling for time was all he could do.

Think. Think, Alan.

“Yes! Help! Yes!” the man seemed to consider. “Pinkskin doesn’t trust. Smart. Pinkskin is smart, smart is good. Wait, fleshy.” He suddenly turned and started dragging himself, adding to the numerous traces on the stone floor left by similar motions.

Alan stood and waited, leaning on the rock wall and examining the potion in his hand. This was probably it. Death. Or seasoning.

The man returned and handed Alan another item. A monocle with a brass rim. Alan considered things as his left arm was refusing to cooperate as if it was not even there. The man noticed and helpfully reached with his free arm to take the potion from him then held it on top of his other palm.

“Look! Look at it!” the man said.

Alan took the monocle, hesitantly put it in front of his eye, and looked towards the potion.

Arzuan Field Healing Liquid (Medium)

Wow. That’s handy.

It was a healing liquid, whatever that meant. The man hadn’t lied that much at least, unless the monocle was deceptive too… Ah, fuck it. He looked up while still holding the monocle.

Arzuan Forge Slave (??)

Oh, oh. Fuck me.

He quickly put the monocle down. Any thought he had about trying to fight back disappeared, not that he could manage even a slap in his current state and a [Mind Jab] would probably come with an aneurysm. The question marks were a telling sight that the disparity of power was way beyond what he could handle. The half-man stood there, a creepy smile on its face.

“See? See? It heals. I heal!”

“Yes, I see. Thank you.” Alan said. Maybe the man was truthful? Maybe he was just a lonely creepy person that needed help?

Alan uncorked the bottle. There was a smell that reminded him of one of the herbs he had consumed.

“Hey, uh, can I use the monocle on my bag after I heal?” Alan suddenly asked. If I am alive.

The man tilted its head, “Yes, can use it later. But return it. It mine.” his following words remained untranslated as it barked some strange sounds and two of the small creatures skittering around fetched Alan’s bag from one of the piles of things, leaving it at his feet.

“Thanks, I guess,” he said and took a breath.

Here goes nothing.

It tasted like bitter cherries.