Mask of Humanity

Nicolai made his way through the gauntlet with his mind empty, almost in a daze. Everything seemed washed out and grey. The event had used up some kind of vital reserve within him. There was no fear, or thrill, or tension from the gauntlet, just mechanical movement as he ran, and dodged, and reached the locked door.

He’d started the run by hefting the spear he’d been gifted by the oversized skeletal creature that morning, stepping into the room and hurling it. The spear had passed right over the skeleton to clatter on the ground beyond, and now he found it in the short tunnel with the locked door, his foot bumping it. A decent throw. He inserted and turned the key while the skeleton lumbered up behind.

The door clicked open and he stepped to the side to dodge a thrown axe before stepping through, dragging the spear along with his foot, and he closed it and locked it, unconcerned by the skeleton's approach. He grasped the spear to take with him and checked the axe the skeleton had thrown as a possible addition to his armoury, but it was dull and rusty and shit.

He retrieved his water bottle from where he’d left it beside the door, taking his Seed from his mouth before drinking several deep gulps. The clean, fresh water held an invigorating coolness that spread through him, replenishing his energy, and the world seemed a little less grey as he replaced his Seed in its accustomed spot.

He checked the main entrance to make sure it was still blocked as he returned to his safe place and saw that it was, but he still moved with caution, leaving the spear, longsword and rapier outside the stairwell and creeping upstairs, polearm ready.

He slipped from room to room and found them all just as he’d left them, no one hiding in wait. He retrieved the weapons, returned upstairs, closed and dead-bolted the main metal door. He leant the spear beside it as he figured the weapon was a good choice for defending the stairs and wanted it handy. He stuffed bits of rotted rag and mouldering cloth into the cracks in the door, then retreated to his chosen room.

There he just kept on going, hunting for more menial, to-do-list jobs, mind empty, body moving on automatic. He checked the stab on his forearm but it was already scabbing up, no problem.

‘Look at this,’ said Nicolai shortly later to Kleos who dangled by its hair from his hand as he carried it out, showing the head how he’d dead-bolted and stuffed rags in the metal door.

‘Wha—?’ spluttered Kleos.

After the head had stared at the door a moment, Nicolai returned to his room, put Kleos on the table and closed the door then stuffed it with rags while Kleos watched. ‘They shouldn’t be able to see the light or hear us, if we’re quiet, through all that, right?’

‘Probably not,’ said Kleos, blinking its eyes as though sleepy.

The torches were a deep red. Nicolai set to work on a fire and found quick success, then sat back and stared up at the hole Kleos had told him would work as a vent. A twist of smoke raised into the air as the fire crackled, and it was pulled into it the hole as though by a fan. Very effective.

He’d checked all his gains from those he’d killed and the corpse under the bridge. He now had sixteen Oma crystals, a Seed, thirteen points tags for a total of two thousand, six hundred points if he could find a Trade Link. Three sustaining seeds, two empty orb’s of rejuvenation, a radio, a blue water bottle, his polearm, a spear, a well-made rapier, a longsword, two new daggers, a metal baton, and some armour that wasn’t very good.

The torch shut off, the room abruptly darkening, but he could see well enough in the flickering fire light.

Nicolai drank a little more from the blue water bottle, poured a bit over his wound, placed a sustaining seed on the ground and spat on it. He watched without interest as it began to grow, bulging. It turned into a big green fruit or vegetable like a melon at first, but which then grew in a divided fashion into a total of eight sections. Nicolai tore one off and saw pale flesh within. He took his Seed from his mouth and started eating.

He couldn’t know what the fruit tasted like because at that moment he didn’t seem to have a sense of taste. It was a little chewy.

He stared at the fire, trying to ignore the dancing of the shadows. In the quiet, busy activity of the flames, he found calm. The gentle heat pressed against his face and body. The tension began to fade. Nicolai allowed himself to resume thinking, and immediately looked to Kleos.

‘Hello,’ he said to the head, which stared up at him with, for some reason, what appeared to be worry as he picked it up, carried it with him, put it on one side of the fire then sat across from it.

‘Did you get to the library?’ asked Kleos. It was turned at a bit of an off-angle, having to twist its eyes to look at Nicolai.

Nicolai returned to his feet, stepped over to Kleos, turned the head so it was squarer, then sat back in his previous position.

‘No. There was a problem. There’s a gap I can’t get across, a kind of retracted-bridge. The route to the library is blocked.’

‘Oh,’ said Kleos, and looked about to continue but then they both heard something.

First a faint whispering, then the pounding began. Nicolai wasn’t much of a judge, but it sounded to him to be a similar pounding as that his door had received last night, not the more serious type he imagined would come in the event they actually knew someone was inside. It was quiet, just on the edge of hearing. His efforts to dampen the sound, the cloth coverings and two layers of doors, had been effective. That was good, as it told him the slight crackling of the fire should not be audible to those outside.

He did his best to ignore what he did hear, and tried to simply enjoy sitting at the fire, and talking to the head. It was, in a way, peaceful.

‘Is there another route?’ asked Nicolai, his voice lowered.

‘Nope that’s it, one way in, one way out,’ said Kleos, equally quiet.

Nicolai nodded. Much as he’d suspected. He picked his polearm off the floor, held it before him, then examined it to remind himself of the details.

Footman’s Mace

A polearm imbued with a Symbiote, given to a skilled and loyal footman as reward for good service. This polearm is made from imbued wood and metal, granting it resistance to rust and rot.

It was crafted with a Gust of Wind Symbiote, one of the previous owners favoured tools which he wished to have always easily at hand, and when provided Oma may generate minor blasts of air.

‘What would you call this?’ Nicolai held the polearm out in front of Kleos.

‘Uh, it’s a… a weapon that’s had a Symbiote imbued into it. An Imbued weapon.’

‘What’s a Symbiote?’

‘They’re… well, they’re Symbiotes,’ said Kleos. ‘They let Cultivators perform Arts. There are endless Symbiotes, from endless paths. They require some care, and feeding, when alive, but they’re stronger. For your polearm, someone took a living Symbiote and put it inside, which will have killed the Symbiote. Now, your polearm basically does the same thing as that Symbiote once did, but a bit weaker. But, you no longer have to look after or feed the Symbiote, and it won’t resist you.’

‘And this is the source of all such magic?’ Nicolai continued, finally getting to the big question. ‘For example, if I were to see an undead throwing blasts of light or waves of fire, or flying through the air, they would have a Symbiote, or some Imbued item, on their person?’

‘Yes. For undead they’ll mostly have something Imbued,’ confirmed Kleos. ‘It’s unlikely any in the castle will have a Symbiote. Without feeding, they’d have died by now.’ It looked to his polearm. ‘That’s why the previous owner decided to Imbue their Symbiote into that.’ After a moments thought the head continued. ‘There are some beings which don’t require such tools, which possess innate powers of their own, but they’re rare. Hopefully you don’t encounter any. There are also Artifacts, which are far more powerful, and alive, like Symbiotes.’

‘So… if I were to see an undead, an archer, floating through the air, they would be accomplishing that with the aid of some Imbued item?’

‘Ah, yes. You encountered the Pegasi, then.’ Kleos smiled.

‘I encountered flying archers guarding the bridge to the library, yes.’

Kleos grunted. ‘You want to watch out for them, they’re dangerous.’

‘I gathered that,’ muttered Nicolai, his back and stomach itching, a memory of pain. ‘Do you know what the Imbued that lets them fly looks like?’

‘Probably a ring or an amulet.’

‘And it just takes Oma to use a Symbiote or an Imbued?’ Nicolai had the impression it was more complex, but he asked just to be sure.

‘Well… no. You have to be able to connect to it. You need to have a soul.’

Nicolai moved quickly to the table and took one of the crystals, then returned to where he’d sat. ‘So I can’t just…’ He pressed the crystal against the polearm. Nothing happened, except that Kleo stared at him like he was an idiot.

Nicolai put both aside and took his Seed out of his mouth. ‘The description called my Seed an undefined soul. A few times in the past when touching it, thinking of it, I felt what it felt. Saw through its… eyes.’

‘Really?’ Kleos eyebrows had gone the opposite of their typical direction, risen in interest. ‘Then perhaps it could do the job.’

Nicolai focused on his Seed, which wiggled a little on his palm, stretching as though waking from sleep. It was hungry for something. He found himself smiling down at it. He recalled the last time he’d connected to it, how he’d imagined himself as the Seed. He tried to do the same again, focusing. A minute passed. Nothing happened.

He kept trying, altering his state of mind over and over, trying to find the right feeling, or focus, or imagined sensations, working to shape his mental state into the key that would slot into the Seed.

His latest attempt was focused on thinking of nothing but the Seed, his mind otherwise empty, when it worked. His world lurched and he was in two places at once, sitting there before the fire and lying in his own palms, sleepy.

He felt his mind trying to separate, thoughts and emotions straining their connection, the events of the day resurfacing in his mind.

He had found many upsetting limitations upon what he wished to do. Unable to kill the big skeleton outside his safe place, or the light-bolt throwing undead on the balconies above. Unable to fight against the undead patrol. Unable to cross a fifteen metre gap. Unable to control the dark urges within him even as they threw him into danger. Unsure if he even wanted to control them.

His connection to the Seed broke. Nicolai took a deep, slow breath, calming himself as best he could. He absorbed the ambience and warmth of the quietly crackling fire and the slow dark, and Kleos across from him. He tried again.

It took another few minutes of focus until he managed to connect with it again, and this time he was ready, his mind firm, resisting the roiling of his subconscious.

Holding tenuously to his connection to the Seed, he brought it until it touched the polearm, and his connection expanded, bridging through the Seed and into the length of wood and metal. He saw it faintly glowing, lines of light that crawled through the wood. It wanted energy, and he realised then that his Seed was full of the same energy, infused with it, made of it.

But the Seed didn’t want to let that energy go. Continuing to run mental fingers through it, he found there were two types of energies within it. One was vague and undefined, something he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around, but the other type was easier to understand, something active that burned bright, that wanted to be used, though the Seed held onto it tightly.

Pushing slowly, gradually, he coaxed and squeezed a little of the energy out of the Seed’s tight grasp and sent it into his polearm. Something happened, some twisting of the energy as it turned into another form and then there was a sharp gust of directionless wind that made the fire ripple, and which was shockingly loud in the silence. The surprise caused his connection to the Seed to break, a wire snapping under stress.

Nicolai’s Mark twitched, and briefly showed golden words, a voice in his mind.

Challenge complete.

Nicolai and Kleos waited in silence, Nicolai not even breathing, his ears straining. The faint pounding of the door had ended some time ago. It did not resume. They hadn’t been heard. Probably.

‘Wait until the morning to practise,’ Kleos urged him.

Nicolai wanted to keep going but he agreed with the head, knew Kleos was wise in this. Instead he tapped his Mark. It showed that he’d completed a new challenge: Activate an Imbued Item, and he had a reward waiting. He accepted the reward and watched as a stone hand emerged from the ground, presenting him with two Oma crystals and another points tag. He grabbed them and scuttled across the room, adding them to his little trove. Eighteen crystals, fourteen tags.

He recalled he’d taken something else earlier, too, and found the Seed he’d retrieved from the dead woman on the supports amidst the Oma crystals he’d placed on the table. None of those he’d killed had possessed Seeds, unfortunately. He placed it on his hand beside his Seed, which considered the dead one but didn’t eat it.

After another few minutes of focusing, he reestablished his connection to it, and felt for its needs, its desires. It did want to the eat the other Seed, but that wasn’t what it needed. The dead Seed was like salty food placed before a man who was hungry, yes, but moreso deeply dehydrated. The Seed needed to drink before it could eat. He tapped his Mark to see in more detail.

User Interface 376 | Player #53,217

- Cultivation

> Seed Progress

Soul: 14%

Oma: 8%

Warning: Seed is imbalanced.

Reason: Soul and Oma differ by significant margin.

Nicolai fed his Seed six of his eighteen Oma crystals, leaving him with twelve. Kleos had watched this process with interest as the Seed performed its enfolding method of consumption. Afterwards the Seed was back in balance with Oma now higher than Soul and it was happy to consume the dead Seed. Once it was done with its meal he checked the interface.

User Interface 376 | Player #53,217

- Cultivation

> Seed Progress

Soul: 15%

Oma: 17%

He would have to wait until daytime to practise with the footman’s mace. Little else to do for now but sleep. He considered what else he could ask Kleos first, and a question emerged.

‘Down there in the banquet hall there are some stairs that lead to a crypt,’ he began. ‘There is a tunnel into darkness beyond the crypt. What is down there?’

Kleos glanced at him. ‘A dangerous place.’ It paused, considering. ‘But useful, too. Mmm. Could be worth a trip.’

Nicolai raised an eyebrow. ‘Tell me more.’