The Fool's Freedom

Alan spent at least a few hours trying to improve his skill. The lack of a target to test things on was wearing on him. The odd man was still not back and there was not even the slightest sign of his monstrous spawn, although Alan was sure there were some moving about on the ceiling. There had to be. What villainous monster would leave his victim alone, with a crafty demon, in its lair?

At least he had gotten a sweet dagger and a few potions of healing from that venture into the side cave. He was pretty sure their plan of stabbing the man while he was performing an unknown ritual with unknown conditions was as stupid as plans got, but considering his skills, weak body, and lack of any sort of close combat abilities, that was the best they got.

The piles of stuff covered in dirt and rags thrown all around the hall drew Alan’s attention. It was getting hard to focus on his skill and he had started doubting if it was even mana he was perceiving or just his imagination.

He needed a target. The demon would be a good one, but Alan didn’t want to sour their unstable relations as the creature had proven to be a great source of information so far. And there was the fact that the thing was a demon, and whatever demons were in his new reality, he was pretty sure acting on preconceived notions from his old world would not lead to good things.

A sudden intrusive thought reared its head and Alan acted on it, without giving it a second of consideration, casting [Mind Jab] at himself.

The skill felt like a needle jabbed into his brain before being pulled out. He winced, as it was more uncomfortable than painful. He cast it again and this time it felt a bit worse, but not by much.

Here’s to hoping I don’t give myself brain damage.

A few more casts left him feeling like he was about to puke and the starting throbs of a headache made him reconsider continuing. The skill had a cumulative effect, and its strength was probably related to the target’s Will or Mind or maybe both – whatever was responsible for one’s mental defenses.

Although his memory was hazy the rats had been surprisingly susceptible to [Mind Jab], while the first time he had used it against the wolf it had taken all of his mana and had left him in a very sorry state. It hadn’t managed to kill the beast even then, but the damage was considerable.

Alan tried to slow down the skill, charging it was as easy as taking a breath and he focused on holding that breath. Then, he chose himself as the target, and let the built-up energy trickle out a bit at a time. It felt weird trying to control the skill while targeting himself, but he managed some sort of a result after a few tries.

The pressure started building slowly, as if an invisible hand was squeezing his brain, or more accurately his incorporeal mind, harder and harder. While [Mind Jab] was a needle, this felt more like a gentle hold that grew tighter the more he let it. Alan decided to add another element and tried to remember what Florence invading his mind had felt like. Put an emotion into it? What was he feeling?

There was no pain at all, but it was getting harder to concentrate and think, then something finally happened.

Alan felt his mind wander off, as it did often, but it was all swirls and colors. Memories filled with vibrant colors flashed for an instant, bringing along a variety of emotions.

He saw moments of his childhood before his parents got tired of being parents and lost their minds.

He saw himself playing games in the park with his brother, carefree and healthy, before life had poisoned both of them turning one into an asshole and the other into a half-crippled asshole.

He saw his ex-girlfriend’s smile, as clear and beautiful as the day they met. She had looked past his conditions and attitude and made him open up and feel hope again, before crushing his heart like she had almost crushed his balls that one time in the bedroom.

He smelled yellow.

Enough!

There was a snap and everything disappeared. Alan opened his eyes and took in the dirty mess of a hall that he was in, the piles and piles of junk and the bronze dais in the center. He was sweaty and shaky and all that stopped him from cursing at his own stupidity were the system messages that appeared.

Congratulations!

You have learned a new skill: Mind Shield

You have been granted a Title: Reckless Thinker

Alan shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. Whatever he had done was not what he had aimed for, but at least it had resulted in a new skill, even if it was a very specific defensive one…And had he made himself ruminate on the past? Why hadn’t he learned that instead? It would be way more useful during a fight, not as handy as having a powerful attacking skill, but making your foe cry over lost love or whatever problems haunted their mind before stabbing them mercilessly would be pretty nice.

Mind Shield

Shield your mind from harmful outside influences or attacks.

Pretty straightforward.

Title: Reckless Thinker

You have little care for your own safety, and you will test any dangerous theories that come to mind on yourself if it means getting results.

+5 Mind

Okay, it seemed like the System was calling him stupid in a very roundabout way, but it could just be his own insecurities talking. It had been pretty reckless to fuck around with mind magic with his own mind as a target, come to think of it…

Wops.

He had started paying less and less attention to his own safety, but then again, he had accepted death a few times, without even dying after the fact, so maybe this was some sort of a trauma response. He needed his therapist… Hopefully, Dr. Hoffman was still alive somewhere out there, helping alien boars and living horrors in their quest for self-betterment.

The by-now-familiar sound of dragging metal distracted him from his thoughts and Alan stood up to greet his host. The stolen dagger was burning a hole in his waist and so were the few small potions tucked away in his bag.

The man came, followed by a bunch of his spawns, each carrying something. He unloaded a big leather bundle, throwing it on the ground with little care, while his minions ran around and deposited various trinkets, some new rat corpses, and other things all around the hall. Two of them happily ran over to Alan and dropped some sort of bird-like creature at his feet. Or was it a lizard? It looked oddly like a big chicken, with its grey feathers and skeletal structure. There were no eyes on its head and the beak on the worm-like head looked sharp.

The two small monsters sat and examined him. They had no eyes, so he wasn’t quite sure if that’s what they were doing, but it sure felt like it. It got uncomfortable really fast.

“Uh, is that for me? Thanks?” he said.

The two chattered with their teeth and turned around to leave. Alan stared at the corpse, confused. Was he supposed to eat this?

Alan jumped when the man spoke to him from the other side of the hall.

“Pinkskin eats fleshy, ‘cuz it is fleshy! It's food, yes, yes. Cook on the forge, I can’t. No need to eat, not know cooking.”

At least they don’t expect me to eat it raw.

Alan saluted in the most awkward gesture of his life and picked the strange creature. It looked quite chicken-like apart from the head. Grabbing his spear, he went over to the forge. The two homunculi from before chose that moment to return to him, each carrying a small bucket of water. Alan realized he could differentiate between the different creatures, as each had slight oddities in the brain patterns on the top of their heads.

“Thanks,” he said again.

He awkwardly tried to pluck the thing but quickly gave up and just cleaned it as much as he could using one of the buckets. The guts he saved for the demon; he didn’t seem to mind the rats so this would probably be a treat. He skewered the lizard chicken on his spear and carefully reached it into the forge, hoping he wouldn’t burn his best weapon.

The forge was quite well made and vaguely resembled a fireplace if one removed the anvils and tongs and various other paraphernalia the names of which he didn’t know. The fire seemed to not need fuel as it just burned and had been burning since Alan had come to the hall. There was no wood or coal inside, although there was a bag of what he assumed was coal next to the forge. There was also no smoke.

During his attempts at half-assed cooking the two small monsters sat next to him unmoving. They showed no desire to partake in the guts he had left on the ground and seemed content enough as spectators.

Finally, he removed the charred lizard chicken. It smelled quite good and Alan realized he was starving. The healing liquid had seemingly muted his hunger and thirst but now that there was food in front of him, he couldn’t control himself.

The meat was piping hot as he cut a piece of the thigh and dusted what remained of the incinerated feathers. It burned his mouth, but it was quite delicious if a bit on the drier side. He devoured it, not caring for his numb mouth, and then used the second bucket of water to take a drink. Pacing himself proved to be quite hard.

His body had felt amazing after the potion but apparently drinking it came with a price.

The sound of iron scraping on stone made him look up, but didn’t stop him from devouring the meat.

“Pinkskin eats. Good, need strength. After eats, come to me. We speak, I helped, you help soon too.”

Alan felt a shiver as he stopped chewing and looked at the four eyes and the creepy smile. The time was coming. He should have probably nicked some candle stones and tried his luck in the tunnels while he had the chance. Being this close to the man gave him absolutely zero confidence that he would manage to succeed in any sort of a backstabbing operation, demon help or not.

He nodded and returned to his food.

It didn’t take him long to polish off the whole creature, leaving only cleaned-off bones. It was surprising that he didn’t feel stuffed at all, but he did feel full. There were too many freaking changes to keep track of them all.

Alan washed off his hands and dried them in a piece of semi-clean cloth, then used the rest of the water to pour over his head, eliciting a chorus of chattering from the homunculi that were watching him and even some of those just roaming about.

Refreshed, he went over to the man who seemed to be unwrapping the bundle he had dropped earlier.

“Ah, pinkskin, come. I have this, yes.” The man unrolled the leather revealing a bunch of weapons. Sword, short spears, axes, a bow, a few daggers that resembled the one he had stolen, maces, and even a flail. There was also some sort of leather armor and a dark bundle of thick cloth.

Alan’s mouth hung open at the sight.

“Fleshy thing, distrustful thing. Smart,” the man said staring directly at Alan’s waist, where the stolen dagger was, the creepy smile not leaving his face. “It’s ok, yes, yes. The cursed demon put you to this, no?”

Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. How did he sense it?

“Look, I-,”

“No explanations, pinkskin,” the man said and clapped his two hands making it sound like there was thunder in the hall. “Trusting me is foolish. I’m a murderer, pinkskin, it's normal to be afraid.”

Was his speaking getting better?

“You can keep the dagger. It’s a good dagger.”

What?

“Uh, what do you mean, keep it? Are you not going to kill me?” Alan asked. Did I have to sound fucking disappointed? Fuck’s sake.

“Kill you? No, no, pinkskin. Friends. Why would I kill you? I need help, so I help you first, then you help me, no?”

“Yes, I will help… but with what exactly?” The golden fucking question.

“Ah, confusion,” the man shook his head. “I’m forging a ritual, to trade. Ritual is dangerous, what I contact… is dangerous. Weak things will come out at first, according to book. Vermin, rats, and worms, things that eat barriers between the worlds. You kill them, protect me, protect children. Demon helps you, it is rude but has good eyes. Dagger will help. Remember dagger.”

“You want me to keep you safe? You are not sacrificing me?”

The man’s two sets of eyes squinted in confusion, “Sacrifice you? Why? I have artifacts, crystals, gold, magic, and books. I have robbed the tunnels of all treasure in reach. Who would prefer a fleshy thing like you? Ha! Nice one, pinkskin, yes, yes, nice one. Ha! Ha! Ha!”

The laugh sounded like two metal surfaces were grinding into each other. Alan felt pretty guilty. Trusting a literal demon over the man that saved his life, even if that man was an alien and was as tall as him while having only a torso and also commanded a horde of creepy failed experiments, was pretty goddamn stupid. There was still a chance the man would harm him; he couldn’t write it off because of the nice attitude, but until such a time came, he owed a debt.

The man took him out of the self-doubt spiral as he spoke, “The heals make you sleep, pinkskin. Do not drink them during the fight. I give you something else instead.”

Alan had considered that part for a few moments, but he had yet to give it too much thought. It would be a disaster if the healing liquid made him doze off and he died as a result.

He nodded, “Thanks once again… hey, do you have a name? I should have asked at the very start.”

The man scowled, making Alan felt like taking a step back. Instead, he stood his ground and returned the strange man’s gaze.

“Ig-Thun. Ig-Thun. Ig-Thun.” He said, repeating the name as if he was not sure what it was supposed to sound like, changing the form of his mouth each time. Finally, with a satisfied nod, he said it for one last time. “My name is Ig-Thun. Sorry pinkskin, not needed a name in long time, yes, yes.”

Time to learn from who I am, and start becoming who I want to be.

“Ig-Thun,” Alan repeated and took a deep breath. “Nice to meet you. My name is Alan Morgan, and I will do my best to repay you for your kindness.” He held out his hand and waited. Ig-Thun stared at him for a few more moments, then carefully, as if afraid that he would break Alan’s arm, reached and enveloped his hand into an enormous cold palm.

“A-aln Mrgan. Al-aan. Pinkskin Alan, is all right just Alan?”

“Just Alan is absolutely fine, friend.”

Ig-Thun blinked, probably for the first time since Alan had met him, and nodded vigorously with his bald head. He gave a wide smile and for the first time, Alan didn’t find it chilling or scary.

“Friend,” Ig-Thun repeated.

Alan smiled back.