The Fool's Freedom

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you are weak as shit. Especially for someone from a newly integrated species.”

Alan sighed, “Yeah, I figured. I got some traits that suck, and I think my choice of skills was not the best.”

“You don’t get it. I know little about integrations as they are rare and far above me, but I know this ain’t the same world I was trapped in earlier and there are tons of opportunities everywhere. I also know that the intelligent dominant species of a newly integrated world gets insane access to skills and power-ups and classes. You have two decent basic skills, but you have done nothing with them. I mean, I get it, everything is new and stuff but you could at least advance your skills or learn a new one. Try a little damn it.”

“What do you mean learn a new one?” That was confusing. How did one simply learn a skill?

This time it was the demon’s turn to sigh in Alan’s head, “Listen, don’t blow my mind for this, but you really are dumb. Wasn’t there anyone who advanced their skill in your group? Surely, you’ve met some. Skills or spells or whatever they are called in your iteration of the system are defined by their user. Remember this. Similarly, when you learn how a skill works you can practice it, focus on every single detail, and once your mastery is at a sufficient level, use it in different ways, alter it, create. It is not easy, but it is not impossible either.”

Alan had thought the same thing and knew the damned demon was right. Alan hadn’t spent much time trying to figure out how stuff worked. He had made a half-assed effort to advance [Efficient Basic Movement] under Davis’s tutelage but it hadn’t happened so he had kind of given up. He figured grinding levels and getting more skill was the way to true power although advancing [Mind Jab] was on his to-do list.

The demon continued, “There were powerhouses out there when I was free that focused on only one or two skills. Of course, those were some powerful ass skills. Simply by advancing and learning all there is about a skill you can touch truths that can elevate your whole state of being, or so I’ve been told. There are many ways to do this and having variety is also good… fuck, I am not an expert… all I am saying is that at your level, knowing you will soon pick a class, you will have a much better chance at a good class that will offer you more bonuses and access to better starting skills if you advance the skills you have now. And keep in mind that most beings in the universe, humans included, don’t have the luxury of system-provided skills before class selection. They have to study them the old-fashioned way unless they have a bloodline or something.”

Alan didn’t speak for a time, he wanted to ask about the integration and the young and old worlds and a ton of other things, but those could wait. He knew he had slacked, but not how much. It had been before him all along. Even Ashlyn had told him about the advancement of her skill on the first night, and there had been plenty who managed it as well. Walter came to mind.

Still, other dimensions? Other worlds? Things were getting a bit too vast. And from the demon’s words, there were other humans out there.

“You know, for someone who started off as a massive asshole, you’ve been quite helpful, and we just met,” Alan said. He didn’t know who to trust. One was a half-body of a giant with four eyes, the other a literal demon trapped in a cube. That was not much of a choice.

“Fuck off and die. Better?”

What a funny little guy. “Say, what’s your name?”

“My name? Do you want to bind me, you filthy mortal?! I KNEW it. I just knew you cannot trust fleshy bastards like you. Why don’t you-…”

“Woah, chill. On Earth-… among my people, it’s a custom to introduce yourself by name, and I am sure that’s not a new thing, is it? Everyone has a name they are known by.”

There was an awkward silence as the cube covered in rat entrails considered things. “Oh. Hm. You cannot pronounce it even if I told you, but for brevity’s sake, call me Xil’Garoth. Consider it an honor.”

“That’s a mouthful. Xil’Garoth, Xil’Garoth. Alright, Xil, can’t say it’s a pleasure to meet you but we don’t have much of a choice, I guess. I’m Alan Morgan, don’t fuck me over.”

“It’s Xil’Garoth, and may your death be slow and painful Alan Morgan, don’t fuck me over.”

“No, no. It’s just Alan.”

“I think whiny little bitch suits you better.”

“You know blasting you with [Mind Jab] is still an option, right?”

“I am starting to prefer it.”

“Alright, alright. You got any idea on how to advance my skills?”

“Apart from being a bit better than a brainless imp, no clue.”

“And you were doing so well…” The thing was correct though. He should have focused a bit more on his skills. It was hard when he needed a living target for his [Mind Jab] though. The skill was nearly instant and even if he could observe the process and learn from it, he couldn’t just blast random people unlike Florence whose skills worked with a gentle touch and unnoticeable manipulations… not to mention Matt. Alan was currently colluding with demons so he wouldn’t judge.

“Hey, I showed you mine… What can you actually do apart from insulting me?”

The demon exhaled in a dramatic way, which of course only happened in Alan’s mind, “As I am? Very little. There are two things I can manage from this piece of shit cage. First, speak to stupid motherfuckers’ minds. Second, cast a bloodline skill called [Soundless]. It is as simple as the name suggests and the greatest treasure of our kin… you know, if you carry me, I might include you in its effect. The freak will probably have to recite some bullshit in an ancient language or whatever and we will use that as an opportunity to fuck him up.”

“And how are we going to fuck him up? When I had his monocle thing, I couldn’t even see his level.” The idea of trying to hurt the strange half-man was horrifying and probably futile. Alan seriously doubted the demon could do much better even if it was free. And how much could he even trust it…. “Wait, can I free you?”

“Free me? HA! If there was even the tiniest possibility that your pea-sized brain could fathom the workings of my prison I would have already put you up to it. Free me… this thing is a masterpiece, a demon cage built for the strongest of our kind. Puny human, don’t overestimate yourself.”

“Fine Xil, then what do we do? Do you honestly believe I can hurt him?”

“You? Not a chance… But whatever is behind the curtain? That is another story.”

Alan remembered there had been an alcove covered by a piece of cloth and he turned to look around the hall. It was there, on the other side of the hall.

“What is inside?”

“That thing, whatever he is, was created. Meaning someone made him. What happened to that someone, I don’t know. I was trapped long before his civilization’s rise and fall and I only know bits and pieces I’ve learned around the Freak, which ain’t much. But the key lies in the little freaks, his spawn, his babies. They do resemble a specific type of demon that stores the brains it eats in its empty head, but they are something else entirely.”

“They are failed homunculi,” Alan interjected, “And the man is an Arzuan Forge Slave, ring any bell?”

“No, unfortunately, apart from the name. I was trapped as soon as I was summoned and that was that. Fuckers didn’t even try to bargain or make me do anything, just left me on a shelf. Ah, I am getting angry just remembering their chins.”

“…chins?”

“People who summon demons like to don oversized hoods that obscure their faces. It’s something of a tradition spanning many worlds and species. We demons never understood it.”

“…I think I know what you are talking about.” He did. An appetite for a particular type of flair always followed those caught doing dark and mysterious deeds throughout the centuries.

“Don’t distract me! As I was saying, he goes in there, screams and talks to himself in his fucked-up language, then comes out all bloody and hurt. He heals fast, but those wounds he comes out with look like nasty stabs, that are always in the cracks littering his skin. I don’t know what sort of alchemy or magic he uses to create his army of little freaks, but he bleeds for it, and to make himself bleed he uses something that can hurt him - a knife, a weapon. Unless of course one of his talents is making himself spontaneously bleed… there are beings that do that, believe it or not.”

“Okay, so the plan is that once he starts chanting or whatever I will sneak up behind the curtain while carrying you so you can make it all… silent? And then we find whatever he is using to cut himself, hoping that such a thing exists, if that’s even what is doing to create those monsters, all while he is performing a ritual that would sacrifice us to an unknown entity, which I assume would require us to be in or around the circle.”

“… Put that way it does sound a bit… uh…”

“Stupid as fuck. Oh, and I assume he won’t summon the army of little monsters he has created to watch over it all and help if something goes wrong?”

“Well, let me hear your grand idea then Mr. I’m-so-much-better-at-planning-than-the-demon-that-has-LITERALLY-lived-for-centuries.”

“Last time I checked living for centuries stuck in a box on a shelf doesn’t make one a tactical genius. I am quite surprised you can even string a sentence, to be honest, the boredom would destroy whatever brain cells I have in such a long period of time.” Alan started examining the various shelves around.

“Demons are not as fragile as humans fuckface. And I slept most of the time. Hey, where are you going?” Xil’s voice not so much as rose as it simply became more unpleasant in Alan’s mind as the distance between them grew.

“I need something to find to pick you up with. You are covered in rat guts, Xil.”

“So are you! And start talking in your mind dumbass, I can’t hear that far.”

“Bitch.”

“What was that?”

“I said sure, motherfucker.” Alan finally tore a piece of cloth from the ‘bed’ he had been given and returned to the rat pile. “This will do. Let’s go.”

“So, your better plan is to go over there now?”

“Yes.”

There was a long pause before the quiet reply came, “Fine.”

Alan took the deepest breath he possibly could and went over to the demon, careful to avoid any mushier rat corpses on the way. The cube itself was pretty light and cold to the touch and it was quite easy for him to hold it in only one of his palms. Shaking it unfortunately did nothing to rattle the demon and neither did dropping it on the ground.

In no time he had crossed the hall, walking around the edges and looking around for anything that resembled an overpowered weapon or a magic artifact. It was really hard to tell with all the dust. The curtain stood still. Alan took one last look around, worried by the strange absence of the homunculi but found nothing.

“They are not here. I can sense them,” the demon suddenly said. “Probably out there looking for more offerings. I will warn you.”

Alan nodded and went past the curtain. The demon hadn’t mentioned that part of its skillset earlier.

There was a small tunnel just big enough for the half-man to pass instead of an alcove and Alan went along, wondering if he should have taken one of the candle stones for light. Thankfully there was no need as just a few sharp turns later he was in a small room similarly lit by a few candle stones. There was a stone vat of some green liquid, jars filled with what looked to be underdeveloped homunculi, pieces of flesh, and other strange things, even worse than those outside. There were also a few vials similar to the one he had gotten from the man when he first came. A stone table with grooves etched in the form of a strange symbol that was directly in front of the vat of liquid.

“Any ideas?” Alan asked in his mind, sensing the silent connection. It was a neat trick. Maybe learning that wouldn’t be so hard.

“Never seen anything quite like this… There is a dagger! Take it!” the demon proclaimed.

Alan carefully stalked to the other side of the table where at the very front, over a small bloodstained hole that seemed to directly connect to all the grooves on the table, was a dagger with a soft curve and a handle of silver. The blade was simple and clean, but thin streaks of gold akin to lightning went along the length of the handle as if it had been broken and put together with liquid gold. There was no guard. The pommel resembled a feline skull with two gaping dark holes for eyes. Alan carefully picked it up and examined the masterfully crafted blade. It felt good in his hand and didn’t look to be made for a hand as big as the forge slave’s.

“The sheath is on the shelf over there. Let’s go.”

“How can you tell?”

“I can ‘see’ in a wide area around the cube. The only mercy of this prison.”

The demon was proving to be more useful and capable than it had let on. Alan quickly found the simple black leather sheath left between a jar holding what looked to be a homunculi fetus and a jar with a whole tiny foot in it. Alan also swiped a few of what he hoped were more healing potions. He preferred the name to healing liquid.

Walking back was way more stressful as Alan expected for the creepy half-man to pop up any second now and catch them in the act, forcing an early conflict. That’s how most horror shows went. He reached the pile of rats with no incidents and hesitated.

“Do you really want to go back there?” he asked.

“Oh yes, it is quite disgusting, but I can neither smell nor feel them on my skin, and the thick blood and death energy nourish my soul, helping me heal and grow. It’s slow and crude, but it works.”

“Well, alright.”

Alan threw the cube back on the pile and turned to sit in his own corner before the Xil stopped him.

“Wait.”

“What now?”

“Move me a bit further down, near to that rat lung, and turn the cube to the left.”

Alan gaped. “Are you serious?”

“That thing is not human and was created with a specific purpose. Forge slave, you called it? It probably has an eye for details and it doesn’t hurt to be safe. Come on, stupid, do it, and then go rest.”

With a grunt, Alan carefully followed the instructions of the demon and finally when it was satisfied, left it there. He went to his corner and took out the kobold daggers, placing his new one into one of their sheaths as the dagger's original sheath was quite eye-catching, mostly because of how clean it was. The pommel also stood out a lot so he decided to wrap it in some of the dirty cloth that made his bedding and wear it below his clothes. Hopefully, the half-man wouldn’t be stabbing himself anymore before the ritual.

Now that all was done, Alan sat down and tried to replicate the connection the demon was creating in his mind. He had felt whatever skill it was quite clearly when he had used the connection to [Mind Jab] the demon. The problem was, how to find minds to connect? [Mind Jab] did it on its own. Focusing he felt a tug, then a second. His mind swirled and he fell to the side, sensing a light headache forming behind his eyes. He cursed and focused again.

[Mind Jab] worked instantly, while Xil’s skill worked as a constant connection that didn’t hurt, only transferred information. Still, how different could two skills connected to the mind be? Maybe he could simply try to apply what he had felt to [Mind Jab], make it into a stream instead of a drop. He would need targets though.

It was much later when Alan grinned. He hadn’t been able to connect like the demon was doing, but he could sense he had learned something. No notifications were coming from the system so there was a lot of work to be done. Nevertheless, there was a path forward.