The Game: Aether and Mind

The heavy, rapid flapping of wings dominated my ears and a chilly, soaring wind caressed my nose. My body felt so heavy, numb like my limbs were deadened, as they hung limply. A sudden stir of motion roused me from my tightly enveloping slumber. My eyelids slowly opened like leaden floodgates and from the blurry imagery presented soon formed a sight of countless bushes, an ever spanning carpet of leaves and trees rushing past me. I couldn't move, barely felt anything, but sensed fifteen sharp fingers poke into my leathery hide and the hot, moist rancid breath of someone slither past my neck, throat, chin, and finally my nose. I tried to move my head but nothing happened, I felt something stuck in my spine.

I apologize for putting you out of control, but I required full concentration to reroute spinal nerves, I hope however that stasis suspension was not too much of an unpleasant experience. I could hear faintly, whispery in my blunted ears and sensitive skull.

The one carrying me groaned, but ultimately strived closer to a groggy grumbling as his blood seeped into my fur. "Oi, Lion, how much further?!" It was less of a question and more of a demand.

The one called Lion turned his masked face towards my carrier with a blank expression, staring for three long seconds, before averting his gaze towards the lands below. "We should be deep enough in the shaded forest. No one will find us here, no matter how well their trackers are."

There was a grim silence after the masked one spoke and the trio with me in tow dived sharply, but evenly in a slope through the air, piercing the shrubbery like arrows, and landed in the forest. I saw, with my never blinking, unmoving eyes, a seemingly endless maze of trees that stood so close to one another that no matter how far I saw no exit was revealed to me.

The masked one walked towards me, the plates of his armor ground against one another, and his metallic claws dug the forest floor, scratching the pebbles, cutting the weeds, and quickly made up all I could see. Metallic clutches suddenly grasped the sides of my jaw and lifted my face to meet his, and at this moment I felt that his metal was warmer than my skin, my lungs had barely moved in my time of awakening and my heart had stopped - blood cells moved on their own by the demand of the Game, but I could barely keep conscious.

The masked one stared and stared, his pupils behind the mask eagerly searching for a single ember of life. He tsked disappointingly and shook his head. "Good job Greirat, he's dead." I could hear the one called Greirat silently curse, 'kick me' was one of them. The Lion Masked one’s claw reached over my head and carelessly ripped the blade from my spine, the sound of grinding bones akin to a ripped tooth filled my ears. Though the ringing cleared up quickly, my confusion lasted even shorter as the dagger wasn’t sheathed as I thought it would be, but brought to my throat and a wide ravine was cut in the stone that was my flesh.

"We're done, let the devils pick the carcass clean and chew the bones to bits." The Lion said and threw the bloody knife towards the third of the pack, the silent crossbow griffon. As I lay there, and saw the blood puddle reflect my still-alive corpse, I could sense that the one-finger-less griffon did not leave, and not only that, the silent bird came closer to examine my body.

"Greirat, come on, you only need three fingers on a claw to wield a knife, just make sure the rest of you doesn't rot away." The suddenly no longer silent griffon spoke roughly, less like an old friend with concern, and more so a manager telling their factory workers to keep going.

"You think those blueblooded bastards don't brush their teeth, Fiodore? Well, this one most certainly does." Greirat said with simmering anger. In my sliced and stabbed and near lifeless state, I felt my blood run cold when I felt three fingers dig into my flank. "Nah, but those are too much trouble to grab, this however is much easier to take."

My eyes widened when I felt something long, sharp, and spikey glide across my tail, and I ripped the control away from the Game. I grew vilethorne spikes from my meat that protruded and pierced both my skin and Greirat's claw. Confusion reigned supreme as Greirat, still caught in a fraction of a second of surprise, suddenly screamed in pain, drawing in the attention of the other two. I jumped up, pebbles, dirt, and blood sprayed alike in all directions as I summoned forth a jar of poison and, with my magic, shattered it in the face of ‘Fiodore’. Shards of glass cut his face and impaled his eyes. The screaming- for the one second I paid note to it, was so fierce and shrill that it might've even halted the Hobgoblin in its charge.

The Lion Mask looked at me with a moment of confusion, before this turned to aggression as he jumped back with a great flap of air, and threw a blue knife at me, sinking it into my chest's flesh. I heard something sound in my skull, but I ignored it and rushed forward. Instinct, bloodlust, and a sense of preservation pushed me past reason and the concept of time. I rushed forward, cursing my now weakened muscles, and enveloped my own body with magic, throwing myself forward like a rock when I saw that the last of the three attempted not to fight me, but instead took to the air. Time stretched, every second lasted four, my movement felt slow like a walk through mud, even when with every passing beat I channeled more and more mana into my outer shell, charging up more speed even when I felt the very space around me distort. The air started to crackle, waver, and shake but all my mind desired was to jump forward a few more meters, that was all it would take. The magic, just a second ago evenly spread around me like oil seemingly ignited into a spell, rushing around me like a vortex, drilling forth into the air, creating a tunnel- but within the smallest time frame I could see later I found myself in the air, before the Lion Mask. I didn't think, didn't ponder, but just pushed and pressed as much mana as I could in this feeble second into my hoof, and punched forward into the mask's chest, and through his back ignited a long blade of mana. Behind the brass mask, I could see the pupils dilate, and a gasping, last breath exuded.

Our bodies met the soft grass tufts, tumbling, rolling, and ultimately coming to a halt. I lay there on my back, I felt my organs once more in motion, my flesh sewed itself together. The mana burned my hide, my horn throbbed and morphed into a headache, my lungs ached as they were ripped from the sudden spring into action and I could feel the keratin of my hoof return to an un-denaturated state. The cool air washed over my skin, soothing it, and I, with a blanked, numbed mind, slowly stood up with quivering joints and saw absolute horror.

Greirat's skin was bloated as thornes grew in and out of his flesh, a thin trickle of blood leaked out of his mouth. The Lion mask laid there silently, the hole in his chest was cauterized, and no blood seeped. And Fiodore was a sight any sane man could claim to be an omen of a dark time ahead. His eyes were bloodshot red, so scarlet no pupils could be seen, only the lifeforce leaking out of his eyeballs, nostrils, and mouth, though his beak was clogged, for his intestines hung, bulging out of his very maw and were spilling over his chest.

I stood there frozen still, as my heart and lungs began pounding even harder, I felt my stomach turn and twist into knots and bloated. A sickening noise escaped my throat as I instinctively leaned forward, feeling my chest compress, I heaved and choked, but nothing came out as the burning sensation in my larynx caused my eyes to water, but not even a drop of acid could be shown as proof.

I... The Game started, but his sound was more white than blue to me at this moment. If it makes you feel any better, they have killed several individuals before, and ultimately killing a sentient creature was inevitable.

I clenched my teeth when I heard the Game’s voice, though still, involuntary gagging clawed itself between coughs and gasps, looping my throat in a short-lived, yet a perpetual state of relaxing, straining, and surging. I let out a loud grunt, finally wrestling control over my muscles and spitting out a foul mixture of saliva, stomach acid, and what I can only assume to be chloroform. My breath mirrored my own blood-soaked visage in the cool summer night, haunting me once more, reliving the second a realization again, though this time not invoking gagging and instead of a sense of dreaded fear.

"I... won't shed a tear for those bastards." I snapped out, just throwing out words in a single burst. "they asked for it, they tried to defile me." I whispered, my head hanging low and my moist breath wetted my own face. As I stood there, the moon shone from above to me below, and a shine reflected into my eyes. I saw a dagger at the side of Greirat, it was curved, sharp, and riddled with spines like a thorned spike. I grit my teeth, and though my heart was partially relieved to not have been in such a gruesome situation, it was still the lesser burden weighing on my mind.

I could feel the Game thinking of what to say, I could guess it was to be supportive, something about 'our survival above all else, 'it wasn't your fault' or 'it had to happen at least once in our eternal life.' All excuses, but not for a crime worth death or punishment, not in my eyes at least, at least not for this.

"I will go all the way Game." I gritted my teeth, forcing down my disgust. "But I will not be changed, I will not become a murder-lusting-beast, just because I can. I couldn't care less if I just killed assassins, mass murderers or demons, if they had children or wives or husbands waiting for them, I couldn't care less. I will not hesitate to save my skin, but killing is one of the things I have always dreaded." My voice was filled with venom; sharp, salty, and bileful tastes dominating my tongue.

You seem heavily affected by the events, more so than I would've expected in the most extreme of cases.

I moved towards the corpse of the Lion Mask, my steps dug small holes into the shrubbery. "I will heal with time." I was not a child. I was forty-two years old. I would not back down. My path was not malleable and I wouldn't compromise. I mumbled, suppressing the vortex of emotions swirling in my soul, however, I wouldn't
compress them into a brick, and bury them under a house, but I couldn’t risk wasting time here, in this endless forest where devils prowled. I stood firm, my muscles strained to their fullest extent, my fur stood up and even glancing at the corpses amplified the short memories I had of the trio thousands of times. "I will say this once, and I hope we'll be on the same page when it comes to murder, amigo. Just because I do not want to kill, does not mean I am afraid, unable, or unwilling to do so when pushed."

I kneeled down and pulled the mask off Lion's face, and revealed a feathery, old and blind visage of a grey crow griffon. The mask, I could feel the Mind of so many nights and murders seep off it. I took it, it would increase my chances out here. Death lurked around any corner, my path was filled with danger and a feeble moral code rooted in fairy tales was not to hold me back.

"Just, if you could be kind enough, make sure I always remain me, never change, only grow." I said solemnly and pulled all corpses, all items into my inventory. I didn't know what I'd do with them… If I'd burn or bury them or just throw them out later as bait, but I'd rather keep any trinket to raise my chances.

You needn't have asked, you knew I'd do so self-evidently, but I promise you not just as your aether manipulator and extractor, but your friend, to not just help you grow, but not be swayed.

I sighed with a heavy heart and a somber smile and pulled my gaze away from the stains and puddles of blood. "That's all I ask for." My ears perked up when I heard something howl and snarl in the distance, it wasn't as rage-fuelled as the nightmares, but certainly more ferociously than any dog.

My eyes turned towards a great oak not far off, its stem was wide and strong, so I chose it would house me for the night. I carved a base with many rooms in the goblin hideout in the Nightmare Realm, smoothed the stone, created rooms, a great blast furnace was forged in the wall, a socket for my future smeltery was created and created furniture aplenty was made; carving a hollow space in a living tree would not break my thread of success.

I walked towards the tree, and summoned forth twelve steel-stone knives and infused water into them, partially sharpening them, while also quickening their speed. With my newfound intelligence levitating so many, working with a plethora of tools all at once was manageable. The blades cut a clean square into the tree, it would be enough for me to sit with stretched out hooves, and ripped out the chunk barbarically, I would've been more graceful, but my mind was thin and danger was approaching, even thirty meters away the stench of blood still reeked, I however, was self-cleaning, thus could afford to hide not too far off, as the danger of strolling might've been even more lethal. Half of the knives cut away the excess wood leaving a thick sheet of bark in which many tiny holes were poked, the other half carves the splintered wood into a vaguely smooth surface.

Pulling out three wooly blankets, I used one to cover the inside of the tree, the second to cover the inside of the bark, to insulate the room, and to further enforce this I even nailed them in place with copper nails, one last blanket for myself. I climbed into my timely adobe with a magically created staircase, and covered it with the bark, nailing it too in place.

But why was I taking so much, talking to myself, thinking about what I was doing at this very moment? I didn't need to make it lavish, I could've just jumped in, spared myself the trouble, the cold couldn't hurt me, the splinters would not penetrate my skin and I could slumber on demand, but truth be told, it was to distract myself. My heart still pounded, the wretched taste of bile still lingered in my mouth, and even with my limbs stretched out inside my warm, insulated, wooly sphere I felt suffocated as if something was crushing me. I sighed, both at my misfortune and the success of the airflow, and pulled out a makeshift lamp. Heat crystal powder was lukewarm in the overworld, not saturated by the realms of the dungeons, however, still exuded acceptable amounts of light. I created it with a bit of glass, metal, and the heater. This was not to amuse me with my 'technical genius' but with unlimited attempts sooner or later the glass mended and bent.

Do you wish for me to put you to a dreamless slumber? The Game asked with a warm, soft tone.

I released my clenching jaw, and pulled out an old book I received ages ago, but never read it, but I had nothing better at hand. "Please, do so in about five minutes, then pull the lamp into the inventory. I just want to drift off." I said with a tired voice, and opened the book called 'Daring do and the eternal flower.'

My eyes flowed over the pages, I saw the words but I didn't read the words, a few images formed and went into my skull, only the imagery of the corpses I created haunted me, not the guilt, but the fear that I murdered three people in a matter of seconds. I didn't fear the ability to murder but was scared that I might just slip once, and kill someone unnecessarily. That I'd just, one day when I was strong enough to tackle whatever the Nightmare Realm held ready for me, underestimate my own abilities, and with a single swipe crush someone's skull.

I couldn't reach page three when normally I could've done twenty, and fell into a deep slumber.

Star Touch - Nightmare Slayer 1(John Weaver)
Level - 48
Class - Arcanist - level 11 (The Gamer)
Race - Unicorn
HP (Health Points) - 640 [64 per minute]
MP (Mana Points) - 2008 [336 per minute]
SP (Stamina Points) - 640 [64 per minute]
STR (Strength) - 65 [130]
END (Endurance) - 64 [128]
DEX (Dexterity) - 82
INT (Intelligence) - 201 [73]
WIS (Wisdom) - 168 [112]
CHA (Charisma) - 108 [120]
LCK (Luck) - 52
[First Blood] - Reward
You have slain your first non-nightmare creature. Unlike Nightmares, mortals possess very little Aether in their corporeal form, however their cores are very rich but also fickle. Long term it is very inefficient as they possess miniscule amounts of Aether and are limited in their power, thus combat doesn’t form adequate amounts of memories to catch onto the gained energies, however it does allow one to quickly grow in strength short-term. “Do all you need to grow, all life is timed but yours, all measures are permitted so long as the cycle may continue.”

*Epic Skill Crystal x1 - Used in the Ivory Tower.

Mage Level 10 - Reward
*Magic Claw

[Magic Claw]
There once was a girl born with no hands, cast aside by mother and father dearest. She stole, she was caught, she was beaten up, she was thrown away, She stole… And then she imagined herself with hands, the very thing that made them different, but wondered what it’d be when she had three or four or a thousand… “So let me ask you, you in mine grips? Doest thou still envision but a derelict degenerate who’st garnered the wits to conjure the forsook kinblood of the telekinetic?”
*Conjur two disembodied claws of mana
*Claws strength scales of intelligence

[Transit] - Level 1
O’ Aether, O’ birth mother of us servants who are timed by the arrival of the great devourer, let us transcend the timely demise forboden and let us join your pantheon. O’ Let us, through your will, traverse the realms of space, so that we shall open the world gate, pass through the weave keeping the realms apart, a hole the size of a needle is enough.
Orgmag - The Cult Of The Ascending
*Instantly warp anywhere in an undisputed space within a five meter radius.
*Charges: 2
*Charge regeneration speed: 10 Seconds.

[Mana Knife] → [Mana Blade]
Mana Blade is the ascension of a primal spell into a sophisticated weapon, by giving a stream of mana, forced and retained by a catalyst form a matrix, it can be summoned from any place of the body. It is exactly why master Archivus called it too dangerous, not the way of the scholar he said, but is not exactly this what an apprentice has to desire? To overcome the fear of their predecessor and go all the way to achieve a foothold to one day gain a throne in the halls of remembrance?
-Manijios, the bitter apprentice.
*Damage: (Int * 4)
*Casting cost/Single use: 50 Mana
*Continuous use: 20 mana per second.