The Fool's Freedom

The sheer presence of the creature overwhelmed Alan and he went down on one knee. There was something pressing on his mind causing him to be unable to think or act. He had done something important, but what? With sheer will he lifted his head towards the new enemy just in time to see its arm turn into a whip and strike a bunch of homunculi off the bronze dais, sending them flying.

Alan felt some of his mana disappear as the whip reached him in the next moment and sent him flying straight into a shelf of old empty jars and tools.

Pain wracked his body, mercifully lifting some of the mind fog that seemed to have covered his consciousness. He gasped for air as the hit seemed to have left him without any.

“Fuck me,” he cursed, then coughed. Some of his bones didn’t feel right. There was a voice screaming in his head and with effort Alan focused on it, trying to silence it.

“WAKEUPWAKEUPWAKEUP,” oh, yeah, the demon. Wait, the demon! Alan’s eyes opened wide and he cast [Mind Shield].

Immediate relief washed over his hazy mind and he blinked a few times. The voice was gone, and so was the confusion and the disorientation. He should have done that at the very start of the fucking fight, considering the fact that the shield lasted for a while. Another mistake.

No more. He had advanced his skill before the thing sent him flying and he quickly looked at the results while also downing one of the potions Ig-Thun had given him before the fight. He felt a burst of energy and warmth spreading through his veins, but decided to remain lying under the broken pieces of the shelf for a few more seconds. He could feel his mana regenerating even faster boosted by the potion and the mana-rich environment.

You have advanced [Mind Jab]

Multiple advancements available, please choose one.

Mind Torrent (Rare)

Connect to your target’s mind and unleash a torrent of harmful mana, dealing damage directly to the mind, dazing and confusing. The connection lasts up to 8 seconds. If forcibly interrupted there is a heavy chance of backlash to the caster.

Synaptic Failure (Rare)

Cause temporary synaptic failure to your target, affecting motor skills, casting, and cognitive thought. Cannot be used in quick succession. Casting time depends on the Mind attribute. Effect on non-physical entities varies.

Distracting Thought (Rare)

Instantly interrupt a channeling skill being performed by the target, causing temporary disorientation. The target cannot cast the interrupted skill again for 10 seconds.

Fuck. He liked having choices but now was not the time. Couldn’t it all be simple? He didn’t have time to think it over. The creature seemed to be hovering. Multiple tentacles grew from parts of its humanoid form and lashed out one at a time at the nearby homunculi, turning them to dust.

[Mind Torrent] was a straight-up upgrade, but he didn’t like the backlash part. He had already experienced one and it hadn’t even been mentioned in the skill description. And 8 seconds was a lot of time. Did he have to sit still or hold eye contact? If he had multiple opponents, it was useless.

One of the tentacles wrapped around the gasping Ig-Thun. The Forge Slave fought, his hands a blur as they tore at his bindings, but more and more came and latched onto him.

Alan took a deep breath and pushed away the pieces of wood and jars covering him, standing up and ignoring the pain that still wracked his body. He moved as fast as he could. There was no time. There were too many variables. What if the thing didn’t have synapses? What the fuck was a synapse? He knew the word and understood the context but other than that he had no clue.

Was the creature even using a skill, did it have thoughts, or was it acting on pure instinct?

The skill was the only one mentioning non-physical entities specifically.

There is no time, fuck it!

Congratulations!

You have learned a new skill: Synaptic Failure (Rare)

He half-ran half limped toward where the creature was holding the still resisting Ig-Thun, his lungs already burning for air. The man’s grey skin seemed to be becoming flaky, while the creature was growing larger.

Alan felt its presence brush against his mind, but his [Mind Shield] held. He grabbed hold of his dropped ritual dagger and activated its enchantment.

[Synaptic Failure] took a few seconds to go off, but once it did the creature’s extra limbs dissipated into mist and even its form seemed to tremble and lose shape. It took a few shaky steps back, and one of its legs fell apart before a new one tried to grow in its place. The thing looked as if it was glitching, the mana holding it together dispersing and reassembling again and again.

The new skill had taken a lot of his mana and he estimated he had only one more cast left in him.

He was almost next to the creature, staring intensely at it, afraid to blink. One missed chance and it was over.

His steps made no sound and he couldn’t hear even his own breathing.

It had been a few seconds now, and the creature seemed to finally start getting a hold of itself. There were a few solid parts that hadn’t been as affected.

It didn’t seem to need sound as it turned towards Alan in one move and multiple tentacles shot toward him, their ends sharpened and dangerous.

What’s up with this world and tentacles?!

Alan threw himself on the ground and surprised himself by managing to roll forward. One of the tentacles barely grazed him, but all of them suddenly stopped and dropped on top of him, wrapping around and draining his mana.

[Synaptic Failure] went off once again, just as he was on the verge of losing his last drops of newly regenerated mana. The tentacles dissipated and the creature once again became unstable. Alan took another step and started slashing with the glowing dagger like a madman. There was no resistance even when he cut the grey solid parts but he could see the creature’s agony, he could hear it deep inside of himself. A resonance.

He cut and stabbed, again and again. The potion he had drunk fueled him, giving him energy that made him feel almost invincible.

The creature was nothing more than mist now, but the separate pieces were still trying to connect. Where the dagger had cut though, they couldn’t.

Soon, he got the notification and stopped his chaotic hand dance. It had felt really weird trying to cut the intangible.

You have slain: Dimensional Mana Apparition (41)

He sagged in relief and sat on the ground watching as one of the surviving homunculi brought a blue crystal to the exhausted-looking Ig-Thun. Maybe Alan should have gotten a few of those.

Level up!

You have reached level 21!

+ 3 Attribute Points

…

Level up!

You have reached level 25!

+ 3 Attribute Points

Level cap reached.

You can now choose a class.

For killing an enemy more than twice your level, you have been granted a title: Slayer

Title: Slayer

You have done what few can do, killing an enemy more than twice your level before choosing a class, earning you the title of Slayer.

You are more resistant to effects causing fear.

+5 to Strength and Dexterity.

+10% to Will.

Due to Title: Pioneer you can advance one skill after choosing a class.

That was… a lot. His mind buzzed with the various messages and he felt the grin plastered on his face. Whatever became of the ritual, this was about to change him into a whole new man. He couldn’t wait to get to choose a class.

The air crackled. The space tear grew. Alan turned horrified and forgot about all the gains he had just received. Legs and arms bend in unnatural angles pushed and pulled, scraping to pass through. He couldn’t fight another one.

His head was pounding, and so was his heart. With the last drops of mana he had he cast another [Mind Shield] and regretted it as pain split his head down to his very soul.

More were coming. Too many. Again. Death.

“Ig-Thun! Stop the ritual!” Alan screamed. It was the last hope. They couldn’t fight more of those things. He couldn’t.

The Forge Slave was staring at the crack with horror, his book lying a few steps away from him. Without breaking contact with the creatures trying to enter the world, he continued chanting with new vigor, ignoring Alan.

FUCK. Was the demon right? Were they going to die here? Alan had been ready to die quite a few times now, but he was on the verge of finally changing his fate! He was so close!

There was something else behind. It pushed and with a terrifying rip the tear in space shattered, turning into a gaping hole. The apparitions that were making their way dissipated in an instant as they came close to the being that had appeared. Alan could not see what it was, his eyes hurt, his ears hurt, and his whole body was screaming in pain.

It was wrong. It was all wrong.

His last thought was of Ashlyn and how much she must have grown by now. She was always driven and good at everything, even things she hated. He hoped she was far away, and this thing wouldn’t find her.

In the eerie silence, he waited for death.

There was a pop. Ig-Thun yelled something, and Alan vaguely saw him smile.

“Oh, my, what do we have here?”

Alan focused his eyes as the voice tore through the silence like the voice of God, echoing in every corner of the hall, bringing sudden relief and clarity. It was like a summer breeze, a cold drink in the heat, a good stretch. It smelled like flowers.

The hole in space changed in but a moment, replaced by a golden arc with intricate carvings of birds, flowers, bees and moths, swords, and dragons. On top of the arc sat a sun and a moon and between them was a single rose of white gold.

There was mist covering everything in the arc, spilling out and rising around the gold, following the various patterns.

Then a curved toe boot stepped out of the mist, followed by a person covered from head to toe by an oversized robe. It flowed like water and was covered in patches in all kinds of colors. The hood was up and Alan could see nothing in the darkness beneath it, despite the sufficient light and his position on the ground which gave him a good angle.

The person took a deep breath and Alan felt the air currents pass by him, “The smell of a new world. So lovely.”

The voice was strange. It echoed and sounded both distant and as if someone was whispering in Alan’s ear. It was both manly and feminine and childish and like the buzzing of bees and the rumbling of an avalanche. It was not unpleasant. Alan’s brain seemed to forget what each syllable sounded like as the next came.

The person was suddenly in front of him.

“A human, and such a flawed one. Curious, curious.” The person disappeared and in the next instant was in front of Ig-Thun, who looked at the creature with wide eyes. “And what are you? A crude work, with so many mutations. Such an interesting mind though. Interesting! Hahahaha!” The laughter was the most beautiful thing, and the world seemed brighter for it.

The person vanished once again, reappearing in front of the doorway. They clapped with gloved hands and Alan got the impression that they were smiling, despite not seeing a hint of a face. The book Ig-Thun had followed and read the chant from was in their hands.

“Now, tell me why would you perform such a crude and broken ritual? It is simply no good. Contacting the Spirit World like this is a no-no, but I will let it slide. I know this is a young world, the system’s touch is fresh. I feel it. Silly little games.” The person laughed again, and then there was a plush white and golden chair beneath them and a gilded glass in their hand.

“I have no need for the treasures you have gathered, as such sacrifices are more suited to fairies. Nevertheless, I am here, and I am entertained. It is not often that I get to feel new life blooming and pushing against the currents of Fate. Such untainted mana, such desire to live. Ahh, to be young.”

There was a moment of silence, and Alan felt it would be blasphemy to speak and ruin it. There was a lifetime of silence, and it was blissful. The person’s – the spirit’s voice, brought him out of the pleasant daze.

“Tell me then, what do you desire of the spirits? You first, blacksmith.”

Ig-Thun looked around, then took a deep breath and spoke, “Great Spirit, I studied for years after I found the books. I will gladly give everything I’ve gathered for a chance to remember who I was before I became this. Please. I just want to remember; I don’t care what happens next.”

“A simple request. I have no use for your life or toys. Your lifespan is coming to its end, you surely know that, and your soul is twisted and broken due to the methods used to create you. This ritual further hurt you, small one.

However, I can fulfill your request easily enough. How you handle it depends on yourself. And as payment, I will take the book you used. Such crude rituals should not see the light of day, lest you unleash things that can destroy this newborn realm. Do you agree?”

“Yes! Please, do it!” Ig-Thun bowed as low as he could, placing his hands on the ground.

“Very well.”

Ig-Thun’s eyes glazed over and he froze in the position he was in.

“And you human, with your broken body. Tell me, what world do you hail from?”

“Uh, Earth.”

“Earth… Earth… Ah, yes! I remember. It is a tiny blue planet with not a speck of magic. No wonder it was dying.”

Dying?

“I am sorry, uh... Great Spirit? Sir? What do you mean dying?”

The spirit laughed and Alan found himself sitting in a similar chair as the spirit. It was comfortable and he immediately felt all his aches disappear.

“I suppose answering you won’t hurt. This world is a combination of a few others. Typically, isolated worlds with no magic are left to fate, it is only when they are on the verge of true death, that the system pulls them into its influence and merges them with similar worlds, or remnants of ones. It is done to provide opportunities for the species that manage to survive and overcome the odds, and for the world’s soul to become part of something greater. Your world’s soul must have been close to true death. It is a sad thing when that happens.”

Alan exhaled. That was a lot of information and the spirit made it sound so simple. But it was friendly, so Alan decided to ask a few more questions, even if only so he could sit on the chair a bit more.

“What is the Spirit World?” Alan asked.

“You don’t know? Why did you participate in this ritual?”

“Uh, I owed Ig-Thun a favor, and I was hoping to level up, which I did.”

“You owed a favor? Hahahahahhaah! Humans never cease to amaze me. No wonder you are everywhere! The arrogance! Hahaha!”

“It is only natural to repay kindness, but for a brief moment I had forgotten that,” Alan said before he could stop himself. It felt easy to speak to the spirit.

“That is true. Debts must be repaid. Very well. However, I will not answer your question. Chose another one!”

“What? Why?”

The spirit shrugged, “I don’t want to.”

“Then, are you a God?” Alan asked. Seemed like a silly question.

“No. Ew.”

“Is the System sentient? Is it a God?”

“Hard to tell. The System is the system. It is the memory of all that was and all that will be, and its sole purpose is to give existence a path forward. Don’t tell anyone this. You can ask me one more thing. Make it count.”

One more question. Alan had to make it count. It seemed pretty obvious what to ask though.

“What is the best path forward for me to become powerful?”

“To become my servant. Wanna?”

INFORMATION:

Name:

Alan Morgan

Race:

Human

Class:

Adult

Level:

25

Titles:

Pioneer; Reckless Thinker; Slayer

ATTRIBUTES:

18

Strength

20

Dexterity

20

Vitality

4

Will

41(+6)

Mind

35

Magic

20

TRAITS:

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

SKILLS:

Efficient Basic Movement; Synaptic Failure; Mind Shield;