The Game: Aether and Mind

Many things are very different when paired with the Game, many things of which quickly became second nature, others are so 'unique' that I could never get used to them, like digesting in a matter of seconds, constantly being cranked up to one hundred percent power, to the point I could crack the stone floor just by walking on it, or regenerating so fast I can see the individual strings of sinew form together like in stop-motion animation. But there was also regaining my conscience in an instant. There was no slow awakening in most cases, no disorientation, just a *bang* and you're completely awake as if not a second passed. Another was that I couldn't feel bad about anything that made me better or at least, not without any resistance.

Of course, the most obvious contender was the nightmares, though through the years I have gained a sort of natural immunity when it comes to hunting them, although the reinforcement of the Game made it much easier, I had to admit.

I killed the pigeons without another thought, well, not exactly. I thought about how meat could be good for a food buff while looking out of the window, and when one landed on my room's ledge, I just grabbed and broke its neck with my magic with no hesitation. In retrospect It was an... absolutely horrifying experience, to just grab and kill something that easily, even harder to accept was that all my anguish about it was made up, my mind was constantly burying the emotions and thoughts about it, it was an even more emotionally-devoid memory than usual. But yesterday...

Yesterday was something completely different.

I killed three griffons in five seconds. It was no hardship, no hesitation, I just merc’d them like any other nightmare, the second I was in danger I eliminated them, and that, despite being the first time I ever actively chose to push a conflict to the death, was not the worst part: It felt fucking good. Not good like eating well, not great like accomplishing some challenging task-no, it was a deep primeval craving that was scratched and it scratched it well. The rush, I could barely describe it, was akin to slaying a nightmare, power flowing into me in its purest form, but here it was so much more refined, clean, fresh. I had no craving to do it again, it wasn't as addicting as the slaughtering of the nightmares, but it didn't make me any happier. I feel nothing, all the bites that plague my conscience are because they clashed with who I originally was, but not with what I was now. I could beat myself up all day, but ultimately truly deep inside of me, at the bottom of it all, I don’t care. Their lives, their achievements, their friends, family everything they stood for, had done and planned to do, I physically and mentally couldn't give a shit about them, or what my current standpoint regarding murder was. The second they became an obstacle, they lost their value to me. The moment they became a threat...

They needed to go permanently.

"How do chipmunks sleep like this?" I muttered sourly, drowning away the thoughts and sighing loudly. I slowly slid into a somewhat upright position, and leaned my head back, resulting in a whole plethora of cracks. Throwing my tongue around in my mouth, I used the moment to expand my magic and envelop the tree plug, firstly pulling it mostly apart,then leaving only a thin line of isolation making an ad-hoc door. I threw a hoof in front of my face to block the light now soaking the dark insides of the tree, blinding me for a moment before I could inspect my surroundings.

There was nothing to behold, and while at first glance it was a calming sight, when [Spirit Senses] was put into the equation, a new kind of queasiness dominated the blood-soaked corners of my mind. While no beasts or monsters prowled the area, that didn't exactly mean it was a good outcome. The bloodstains of the three ~~bastards~~ assassins were gone, no feathers nor hair remained, and the other trees, I couldn't recognize them, for a matter of fact, from my position where I slept, there should've been a tree directly in front of me, just 10 meters ahead, but now I could freely stare dozens of meters deep with nothing blocking my sight.

I sighed with displeasure as life began to surge within my muscles.

"Of course, this isn't just some normal displaced forest, it just *had* to shuffle itself as well." I sighed, shaking my head into the tuft of my chest. "Seems like I'll have to abide a bit longer before delving into the depths of pyromania." I huffed and puffed before jumping, or rather plummeting, out of the wooden tavern and onto the grass while packing everything I've brought back into my inventory. Everything except the Amber Light Flame - in short: the ALF.

That acronym has a weird sound to it. The Game busted into my monologue.

"You sure Grand Aether Manipulator and Extractor? I think it fits quite well." I said with false smugness, before turning my attention from the huffing Game and onto the fire that hopefully didn't run by burning cats. The tip of the fire, which was shaped like a tennis ball-sized teardrop, was pointing to the east, although the wind came from the north. At least it was pretty straightforward, no spell nor command, just a wayward compass.

A timed one at that. The Game noted quite sharply. While I didn't doubt that we could escape on our own, even if it meant burning down everything and or becoming so powerful through the process of soul-crushing grinding that crossing the woods would be a cakewalk, I was not envious of those seeing this as an opportunity to grow. I couldn't just retreat, where would I go? And would I Just be displaced again? And while the mirror realm now laid open to my orphaned flesh, I could only shudder at what nightmares prowled, feeding on the sweeping residue of those lost in this death trap.

With a distrustful leap of faith, I turned towards the east and sternly stared into the great unknown,further widening my senses with [Spirit Senses]. It was nauseating, but being able to see in a radius and feel things moving silently and invisible was a tiny price to pay.

I walked, not running or sneaking, neither jogging nor crouching, I moved with a steady pace with quick steps. The assassin's armor adorned my body like vines binding a tree. Beautiful to behold, but suffocating for the towering timber. Those smoke-like echoes of screams residing in the fabric clawed at my mind, and while I could ignore them, and even drown out the memories, [Spirit Senses] only enchanted my perception of all, at the very least the countless things trickling into my mind helped silence those wraiths of the past. However, the memory of their death still lingered nearby strongly, clogging my mind and leaving my heart untouched.

I won't shed a tear for those who kill for fun or murder, they're just like the nightmares: Mindless monsters and they're all over the shop.

Despite being on full alert, there wasn't only displeasure in this; and I'll be frank- shit situation, there was a certain beauty in seeing the untamed woods, and the spiritualist class only enchanted my fascination with the forest. It was an indescribable sensation. It wasn't like this careless freedom of being unaffected by permanent damage or pain, nor like the downright heavenly sensation of feeling Aether surge and manifest in your very soul, it had a more embracing sensation. This forest was alive in a sense, even if it was just a very basic kind of existence, nearly bordering that of my own follower spirits, if not outright bestowed with a lesser and yet simpler conscience. The thrumm of life all around me was like the lightest, faintest, luke-warm hug one could imagine, just that this one didn't end nor became awkward.

But it didn't put all of my alarmed thoughts to rest, all the while I was attempting to stay attentive, the previous night showed me that this world wasn't just a candy-colored rainbow palace with a few dark spots as had been revealed to me early on, but there were layers and nuggets of evil spread all around. The royal library held many secrets hidden from the public, hell, most of it was locked away from me, not just due to age restriction, but seemingly outright censorship, but then again I could scrape together so much shit. I'm not even just talking about the rule of my mother, within all fairness has had things happening that rival humanity in the 17th and 18th centuries. The genocide of the Yeti, the Griffon “livestock” massacres during which Celestia didn't rule about a thousand years ago, evils that are only rarely mentioned once under various aliases every twenty or so books in various languages. The Germane of the clans in the Dark Woods was by far the best source, though I didn't believe the accuracy of their biology. But there are also more recent examples of this, one that directly involved me. While the loving ponies may not seem like it, they are not genetically perfect, or rather, are vulnerable to genetic mutation via magic, or at least, uncontrolled magic.

While magic itself isn't comparable to things like radiation, it is able to consistently change wherever it is located, be it from transferring energy, reordering elements, or even mutating fragile things like DNA. Now, this wasn't really a problem in the past as in general, the concentration of magic was very low in the previous ages. Unless we're talking about locations like the magic tower in Canterlot, a very mysterious and dubious place that has a reputation of causing impotence just by being inside it for a prolonged time. These days however there is much more in ponies and cities, and while the general population is slowly becoming resistant to it, there is still the problem of foals coming out... wrong, like how I looked at first, mostly better but sometimes worse than me. Add to the astoundingly high rate of incest in nobility and other places and there are a lot of affected foals being born with extremely low life expectations.

Of course, I'm probably blowing it out of proportion, there aren't thousands of these unfortunate foals born, but most certainly enough to enter the realm of general life. And the source of this dismay is called 'Magic Burn', meaning that if a foal has parents who are very magically potent, or sometimes where one parent is much more adept than another, or the location has a high concentration of magic, hell, maybe all together, then Magic Burn can occur. Similar to how magic can make adult ponies impotent, an overwhelming amount of it can cause severe damage if uncontrolled, even going so far as to explode in a quite glorious fashion, but in the cases of foals or fetuses the damage is spread across the entire body like a burn wound that destroys sensitive parts almost always first.

If a foal is born with 'Magic Burn' they are doomed to die, not even with a small chance to live, it's just a timed and very painful existence lacking vital functions such as a working immune system, cell regeneration, or the ability to use magic which amplifies ponies bodies ever so slightly. Once they're born, that's it, nothing more will be added, just slowly rotting away. The longest living foal was a pegasus named Thunder Crash, having lived a total of eight weeks before his system collapsed 147 years ago.

Following a surge of these cases cities had their population spread apart further, with Canterlot adding the third layer which previously was merely a huge port for airships and carriages. But there was also something more added to it all, 'The Silver Soul Law' citing that foals afflicted by 'Magic Burn' should be granted mercy, instead of stretching out the inevitable. I... am not sure what to think of the whole situation, nor do I believe the nobility would scrounge together to pass this law in the union if there wasn't a more ulterior motive at play.

But that wasn't the only time my life was targeted.

Back then at the Neighagra Falls, I felt a sensation completely unknown to me, only vaguely explained by the Game, but now I could feel it. There was a griffon there with the intention to kill me, before being ended him or herself, and while I knew that the relationship between Equestria and the remains of the Griffon Empire was 'luke-warm', it still didn't make enough sense to me. But, I wasn't completely blind, as the armor told me much more than I knew before, and the battle of Pridestone was muttered by Gentle Touch on the death anniversary of her husband. I didn't wish to pry into a sore subject, and I would first attempt to scour the archives for more information on my phantom enemy, before asking living witnesses.

Much blood will be shed if you wish to follow this trail, do be aware. They are well organized, even in shambles, are in possession of level 50 rare grade equipment, and are willing to die to end your life. The Game said with a firm but reassuring tone.

'Yeah, so what?' I symbolically snapped my head back. 'You don't get to escape after targeting my life, and I won't wait playing with my hooves till they try again or get more creative. I've been a plaything in the economic game for twenty years and I won't now become one for the political. They want to play this game, eh Game? Fine! Then let them set their pieces and I'll make many more for the coming match.' I snorted through my nose with a huff and pressed my hooves deeper into my chest tuft.

My advance halted suddenly, when the flickering flame suddenly changed its course, now pointing behind me. I felt reality warp and bend behind me, twisting and cutting the mental picture I had of my surroundings into indistinguishable pieces.

I turned around, expecting or hoping to find my hoofprints, but finding neither those nor the path I took, but instead a small stone den and several boulders atop which wolves made of wood rested. They seemed peaceful, as nonsensical as that statement seemed regarding those arborist golems, however, their serenity was broken when they took notice of me. These animals or perhaps even constructs, stood up slowly one after another and took on a semi-circle position. I stood still, but I didn't paint the option of peace or retreat as a viable solution, for their green glowing eyes, risen bark coats, and sap-seeping maws radiated no sign of compromise. Good, I wouldn't budge either, my path lay right through their nest, but most importantly, despite the difference in numbers, I was by far not outpowered. At a glance, their levels ranged between 18 and 24, lower than the average pony, but most certainly more dangerous than the mundane peace and cupcake-loving citizenry, however, compared to nightmares and the troubles I've faced, these timberwolves, as the [Observe] skill called them, might as well be a horde of groggy, mouldy corgis.

I slowly rose to my hind legs and with a flick of my fetlocks, I ignited two [Mana Blades] and looked at the pack carefully as they started to circle and surround me. The sounds of cracking wood and crackling mana filled the surroundings, and the silver light of my mana clashed with their lime gleaming eye-lights. I lowered my brow and frowned while tightening my gaze, feeling out each subtle movement of their bodies, the way they stepped onto the grass and moved like a wave.

Call it a seventh sense, but after fighting nightmares for over a decade now, I was somewhat skilled at figuring out their patterns, and these beasts were plain as paper, the only question remained: Who would be the brave fool to start the engagement? Would it be the leader, the biggest of the pack, a runt sent as either bait or was granted the chance to rise in the ranks? Maybe an old wolf having the skill to take down a beast my size or a member with just enough strength to create an opening, a sort of shock trooper.

I didn't need to struggle much longer, the pack was desperate and hungered... and then all hell broke loose.

My pupils widened and a quick stream of air entered my lungs as I hurled myself around, my long hair cutting through the air before my forehooves sprang forward like pistons and impaled two wolves in the air through their chests. The smell of mixed wood sawdust and charred sap intoxicated my nose, but the time allowed little liberty. I fell to my hooves and bucked a sneaky beast through its skull with [Power Strike] before rolling under a trio of wolves, but I was not out of the ambush yet as one timberwolf stayed on the sidelines and used this moment to attempt to strike me from a blind spot. I growled loudly, before igniting my horn while rolling and using [Ice Spear].

Particles of my mana parted from my horn like a snowstorm which congealed into a spear of ice growing in seconds to an impressive size. The drain was bearable, but the concentration required was seemingly tenfold of [Ice Bolt] and just from the singular second this spell was within my grasp I could feel my breath hitch, freezing into a cold mist in the air.

The frozen spear jabbed the timberwolf, but the ice sank through the wood with unforeseeable ease and wasn't consumed this easily. As the ice crept across the wolf, layering frost throughout it and soon ensnaring the beast in a cage of deep winter, I hurled it into the remaining six wolves, and as the Ice Spear grew, large and heavy, it pinned two of them to the ground.

Four active wolves remained in my path, not an ounce of retreat or self-preservation in their sapped souls. Amongst them was a particular Arbor Wolf, a silver-colored wolf who was noticeably larger and definitely older, measured by the many notches and scratches in its wooden skin, and by far the strongest with level 24. The elder lowered her gaze and snarled before letting out a dreadful howl akin to a glass-shattering within an empty tunnel and spurning the remaining few into action all at once, and more. Their lights increased in saturation and brightness, almost seeming to overclock them.

The wolves charged forward the short distance towards me, and I responded in kind. two [Fireballs] formed, a third I wouldn't risk to leave me open, and hurled them, towards the quartet. The flames consumed two attackers in an instant, like an infernal tidal wave swallowing them and leaving behind charred, crumbling remains, however one I had aimed at the eldest herself, but was taken by a lesser member in an act of sacrifice. I couldn't tell if it was high respect, an order, or a sort of hivemind that provoked this selfless act, but I rolled with it.

A strong wolf overtook the pack leader and jumped towards me and I caught it with my [Magic Claws] and cut it into two pieces with [Mana Blade] but in my moment of concentration, the Matriarch jumped over the bisected corpse and bit into my shoulder while snarling and shaking her head in all directions. The teeth didn't sink far, the damage was nearly entirely negated but what worried me was something else.

Timber Wolf Matriarch - lv. 24 is using [Drain Bite]

With a growl, I grabbed the beast by its neck, including my claws, and ripped the beast off me and onto the ground. Goosebumps formed across my skin as I felt the acidic sap seep into my quickly closing wounds. She tried to jump away, regroup perhaps, but before she could jump away I pulled out the hobgoblin club and in a combination with [Power Strike] rammed the timberwolf away with its limbs and bark crumbling away. I looked at my wound for a second, seeing the damage repair itself, and walked forwards with a quickened pace as the wolf was regenerating by seemingly absorbing the plant matter around it, fixing herself like a sort of patchwork. I ignited my two [Mana Blades] and in quick, twirling motions evaded through the duo of half-frozen, recently freed golems and finished turning them into splinters, before, without sparing another glance, crushed the matriarch's head under my hoof.

12 The Game counted, though not only wolves were taken into the calculation.

I took a deep breath, the battle was not exhausting, I was used to the battle thrill, but to calm myself as I took the corpses into the inventory and walked towards the dens as a sneaking suspicion crept into my mind. "You will not put them into the same category. I have nothing but swift death for pony eaters to give."

Noted The Game replied with his usual pragmatic voice, leaving me at times to wonder if he could really have thoughts that were located in deeper layers of his being, or if he really was everything I could see at first glance. I could understand why I was there for the morals department at the very least. What are you looking for, if I may ask? You won't find a reward here like in the dungeons.

"Oh, I'm sure I'll find something." I said with a wry tone and walked on my hindlegs past the rock. For a normal pony, all these little details would be invisible, but I took in every single scratch, every smell, and every sensation, and right now I could feel something potent. I stopped and snapped my head towards a tiny hole around which laid relatively recently unearthed dirt. My horn burned my mana and the earth was pulled out in spades with my magic, the dirt was thrown in all directions behind me, but it wasn't like anyone was left to care.

"Eww," I said with a scrunched-up muzzle and a look of disgust plastered across my face as a unicorn skull was pulled out of the den and laid there with worms crawling out of the nose holes.

Skull of Polar Might
Level 35 catalyst
The desecrated remains of Sir Polar Might, a dear friend of Silver Blade.
*Increase spell power by 20%

"That... That wasn't what I was expecting..." I said with a hint of green taking form around my muzzle. I didn't know why, but this sight was far more morbid and stomach-turning than the undead horde. Perhaps it was the rotten smell of putrefied blood that nauseated me.

It's the horn of an adept magic caster, the item would serve well to be used as a catalyst. The Game said with intrigue; or at least attempted to invoke it in me, but all it did was make me stare at my own skull bone with confusion. Your own horn's spell power will always be tied to your own stats and race factors, however, items act as an outside benefactor.

I stared at the skull with unease, and gulped down the bile, before shaking off the dirt and insects and hurling it into my inventory, after all, this wasn't what I was after. And I hope grave-robbing would never have to be my primary goal.

Another batch of dirt and items was scraped from the nest. More bones, but also pieces of broken weapons and armor followed, their original state impossible to be made out, but I wouldn't decline free metal. A few shrooms, most were deadly for the average pony, but for me, it would help to raise my poison resistance, as with no doubt [Vilethorne Immunity] wouldn't carry me to the end of the world. A few pieces of jewelry as well as rings and gems came with the next batch in addition to very old-looking bits. I gasped with joy, only to be let down seeing as not one of them had any special effect. Worthless.

I snorted and dug deeper, pulling more and more valuables out, treasures I had no further use than for the soon-to-be smeltery. Rusted daggers, empty cloth pouches, weird-looking seeds, and finally the origin of the strange sensation. As another layer deep into the hole was ripped open, an illuminating, green glow emitted from the depths. Well looky here~

With a great tug, roots and stones were ripped from the crust and like a missile as an oval emerald halted but a centimeter away from impacting with my face. My smile halted for a moment, before igniting with a second burst as I saw what it was, something exclusive to the spiritualist class.

Spirit Gem: Avalyn
Companion Spirit
Element: Nature
This follower Spirit managed to get old and strong enough to pass through the weave on its own and manifest in the form of a gem, waiting to hatch or be hatched by a spiritualist. Companion spirits possess their own physical form, magic, and skills and are a step below Guardian Spirits, however, they usually bind themselves permanently to their master till they die and usually possess limited cognitive abilities. Not every spirit will allow itself to be awakened by just anyone.

I grinned with the biggest shit-eating smile I could muster while cuddling the gem into my chest tuff. "You'll make a fine addition to my ragtag band of hunters, I just hope you won't kill the damn cat in Canterlot." I swayed my gaze away from the gem and into the depths of the forest. "But then again, the little shit probably already got himself thrown out of the castle with how much mischief it causes... Like, I watched some cats as a side gig while their masters went on vacations or whatever, but none of them were as huge assholes as this one. Fucker scratched up my books. Even went so far as to scale the damn castle wall... from the eighth level to the ground floor."

The cat you didn't give a name to, despite being in your possession for extended periods, has been looking for a new owner since we left.

"His name is Kat, not 'cat', and what did you just say about the little shit?"

His race is dependent on mana, without it they die. It first went to a butler named Glimmering Manners, then to a guard called Valiant Rush, before spending extended periods with Twilight Sparkle.

My brows sank deeply and a taste of bitterness overtook my tastebuds, and the sentence 'wouldn't be the first time she replaced someone' floated through my skull with cynical distaste, before snapping out of it. Twi would not become the target of my anger, no one would, no one ever did, but I needed another way to blow it off instead of just bottling it up.

A stallion with the name of Night Light is in possession of Kat, and by the hormones in Kat's brain, he seems to be quite fond of his new master.

"That fucker is dead to me." I crossed my hooves, with the gem still in my hooves, and now with much sharper attention to my surroundings, I felt how reality was tensing up again. "Like, yeah, the chemistry didn't mix at all! He was a lazy tub of destruction who wants to be treated like a king, scratches all day and not a bit of cuddling, but just abandoning me like that? Pah, Hauhuthos should've never pushed the little bastard into my hooves, I was quite content with the egg-but nooo~, can't let ol' Star have anything nice, take the puss, you won’t regret it~ But soon I'll be happy with my own little dragon once I install the mana crystal without shattering my hindlegs again."

Copper, who could've thought it was a great hinge reinforcement material.

"Oi, shut it, it was a great contraption until the fucking ceiling crashed down. How was I supposed to know that under a ten-centimeter layer of stone was nothing, and absolutely nothing more than sponge stone and fucking oxygen moss, huh?" I said, throwing my arms wide open and leaning my head forward. "It won't matter anyways, once I'll get my grabby hooves on some grout I'll make myself a real nice forge and make steel stone, or even steel rock pedestals for them gems."

The reality of the forest was beginning to contract once again, and the singular cells being displaced became visible to me. It was chunks of 24 by 24 meters that were being warped away.

"Anyways, how do I hatch this Avalyn?"

Place the spirit gem into the spirit well, and convince the spirit inside why you'd make a good master. The Game said, and I put the gem into my inventory. However, I do believe a better Spirit Well would be in order to increase our odds. Finding a larger stump would be a good first step, higher quality wood too, before attempting to summon both the companion's spirit and a guardian spirit. His words were more of a warning, than just advice.

There was a very good reason why I hadn't summoned more follower spirits, despite only gaining more faith capacity by having more of the floating light bulbs around. They just wouldn't come, and it was both tied to the level of the Spiritualist class, my guess it being around every ten levels, as well as class-specific equipment.

Oh well, I threw my arms wide open, and pulled out my shield, holding it with my [Magic Claws] and readying myself for the next jump, that came and hit like a fucking train. Many things awaited me, and I had a lot of big plans, and all I needed were a few lucky jumps, so why was it so windy all of a sudden?