Otherworldly - A Shadowed Awakening

Peak of Autumn, Week 4, Day 5

Time slowed around me, my mind speeding up. The dull garden, with its browning leaves, remained unchanged. At first, I was confused. No white overlay showed the path of Order; no crimson light showed the path of Chaos. It was simply a garden headed toward the peak of fall.

Of course, I hissed in my head, because why would a Skill ever work to my benefit?

Within a breath, I had deactivated [Sophism] and pulled up the Skill description. The world sped up —my body along with it.

[Sophism: You have attracted the attention of the God of Order, Brel. In order to help guide you to the proper path, Brel has gifted you the ability to see Paths to Order and Chaos. The skill will help your rationalization of events and will occasionally give you direction on which is the Path of Order and which is the Path of Chaos. This skill is directly affected by your Perception stat. Whenever you are making a decision, your perception of time will slow but your processing speed will not. One second can be slowed by a factor of 5 for every 1 Perception. The effectiveness is increased per level.]

The rich green of the System greeted me and I felt something hook itself around my heart. Despite the Dawns denying me the ability to wear the colors of life, I still had this. A type of disobedience that can never be taken from me.

“Occasionally?” I ground out, burying my face in my hands, “Will occasionally give direction?”

A choked laugh escaped me. It was ridiculous, and my laugh was a harsh thing, born of rage rather than humor.

“This is insane,” I groaned, “The damn God didn’t even give me something I could intentionally use. Not in the way he implied. Fine.”

Closing my Status, I returned my attention to the garden, stepping back down the third path.

“I’ll just do what I was going to do anyway.”

I passed the first clearing, then the second, before coming to the third clearing —the one from the memory, with the moongrass that had looked so plush. But that memory was from spring, when life had returned to the garden. Now the blue-green speckled grass was yellow with brown speckles. Rather than sitting down on the moongrass, I made my way to the stone setup and sat atop the table. Crossing my legs, I looked around. The edges of the clearing were thick with dying hedges and wilted leaves. Two matching statues were displayed upon pillars on either side of the entry. They depicted the first sun high in the air and the second sun half risen. Another reminder of the Dawn. I forcibly shut off that line of thinking –I could already feel rage boiling beneath my skin as my mind flicked back to the memory. Of Eve.

I refocused on myself. On the differences from the memory. Unlike before, when Eunora had brought a book to entertain herself, all I had with me was Noir, my creation. A thought struck me as I placed the bunny down next to me, propped up in a similar position as myself. I had wondered initially if objects created by [Weave of Darkness] qualified for [Shadow Animation]. Now I could test it.

“You are made of Darkness,” I whispered, “Perhaps I can give you something to do.”

I felt the ice of mana flood my veins in anticipation. With a single finger, I tapped Noir’s body.

“[Shadow Animation]”

Black miasma sprung from the tip of my finger, beginning by seeping out of the pad of my skin before migrating outwards towards Noir’s chest and occupying the space between us. I felt the Skill telling me it required more. That I had to make a choice. And I already knew what it would be.

Infusion.

At my Willed command, the miasma dove into Noir —like an eldritch horror sinking into the bunny's body. The knit bunny twitched and jerked, an arm shooting out and a leg shifting –even Noir’s head bobbed. And then it stilled for a breath before Noir leaned forward, tilting its head to look at me. Again, I felt my Skill tell me I was not yet finished. There was more to do if I wanted to animate Noir fully.

“Hello, Noir,” I whispered, reaching out my hand and pulsing my Will, “Come to me.”

As the ice of mana filled my mouth and forced its way into my words, Noir stood in the way a puppet might stand. It stood with harsh jolts and overextended with every movement, producing an uncanny feeling that perhaps Noir truly could be alive. Or half-alive, the movements unnatural enough to create an uneasy feeling. Having finally gotten close enough, Noir held out a single knit arm to my hand before its legs went into overdrive and it stumbled. Noir continued moving towards me, unsteady on its stuffed legs, until the bunny rammed into my side and squeezed. Its soft arms pressed into my stomach, and though it was clearly using all its might, it felt like a feathered touch. Gently, I pulled Noir off of me and placed the bunny back on the table, wondering what else it could do.

As I brought my hands back to myself, I felt a weight on my wrist. Noir had wrapped his arms around me again.

I gave a small smile, “Good bunny. You can stop now.”

Only, I couldn’t feel the ice of mana filling my voice. And Noir did not let go.

“Noir, stop,” I was firm when I spoke and pushed the whole of my Will into the command.

It did nothing. Well, not nothing. It had distracted me while Noir began running towards my stomach once more, clutching me with all the strength his little body could muster.

“Wait, no-“ I pulled him off me again, holding the bunny in front of me by its stomach.

His arms and legs kicked out toward me in a hugging motion. Come to me. That didn’t require physical contact, did it? No, a reasonable person would think it meant standing nearby. But Noir isn’t a person.

Gently releasing him on the table, I was immediately gripped by the knitted bunny. I wondered what other commands I could give. How careful would I have to be with my words? It seems I only got one chance to get it right.

“Noir, this is going to be a pain,” as I spoke I ran my nails along the bunny’s back.

It seems I will simply have to wait out the time limit. Ten minutes of Noir’s hugs —less now. It felt odd, not warm like the tight hugs from my loved ones in elsewhere, but I felt pleased. I had created Noir, and whatever drove my command I had not intended for it to be such a sweet action. That meant something else chose it. Maybe it was another divine machination, but something in my Skill told me that was not the case. I had given Noir life, not a God.

As I sat, I decided I might as well practice my control.

“[Shadow Manipulation+Shadow Conjuration]”

Eventually, I would not have to speak my Skills aloud. The more I used them, the less I needed the Skill names to focus my mana. But I was not there yet. Rather than unfurling the entirety of my power, I felt mana condense in the palm of my hand and disperse into the air. Silently, a growing sphere of darkness manifested into my hand.

I focused my eyes on how the sphere’s surface rolled as it expanded to the size of a tennis ball, lumpy and uneven as it stopped growing. I needed to be able to shape it more precisely, like before. Weapons of solid shadow cut just as fiercely as weapons of steel. I just need to get to that point again.

I could feel it, my Skill speaking to me. A whisper of guidance. I can control it as expertly as before –it will just take mana and focus.

Keeping my eyes on the malformed sphere, I brought my other hand over and began physically tracking every ridge and roll, every lump and bump. And then I pushed them down, Willing them to smooth at my movements. Slowly, I worked over the sphere, holding in my mind the idea of a smooth surface. It didn’t just snap into place, no. As my fingers ran along the surfaces, I could feel my fingertips chill with mana and could see the surface collapse and expand with my touch. It wasn’t until I felt Noir go limp against my side that I realized I was finished. I had kept smoothing, rolling, and condensing for the entirety of Noir’s animation. And the previously tennis ball-sized shadow was now slightly larger than a ping-pong ball and was as smooth as steel.

Repositioning myself, I pushed my Will and pulled the shadow marble through the air. It swung back and forth before me, slowly drifting at my command. It took all of my focus to maintain the smooth surface as it moved, and I felt my breath catch at the realization that it was only my focus that was strained.

My mana was still full, and my Will had plenty of power to shape it.

Determined, I pulled my hands away, leaning back onto them, still staring at the floating sphere —willing it to hover directly in front of me and to float in place.

A single point, I thought to myself and to the shadow, extend a single point.

The marble continued to float, unmoving. Unchanged.

I took a deep breath, centering myself. I closed my eyes. I needed this. I needed to prove to myself that I wouldn’t stay weak forever. That this world wouldn’t ruin me. That my strength in elsewhere was real –not some figment of my imagination. And that I would not be trapped by the confines of the Dawn name.

A single point extended. Sharpened. A cone of darkness. No longer a sphere. A single point.

This time, when I opened my eyes, I was greeted with a success –though not in the way I expected. No longer was it a sphere; instead, it was an elongated cone. While it did have the sharpened point, rather than remaining rounded the end had flattened. It was a ‘cone of darkness.’ I huffed.

“Of course, you listened to the bit that mentioned you particularly.”

Despite my disgruntled voice, I felt a small smile form. I had done it. It was small, easily fitting into the palm of my hand, but it was a start. I grabbed it from the air and held it tightly. This was what I had. This was my lifeline to something better than Eve’s torment, Raphael’s distaste, and Theo’s apathy. It was something to keep me safe both in the Borderlands and on the perilous journey to get there.

At the thought, I felt something rough snake through my gut. Anxiety, this time all of my own. In elsewhere the Dome protected us from monsters –here there was no such thing. Sure, there were wards, adventurers, and heroes, but they were stop gaps for individual protections. They were not for the masses –and I could not count on them for myself. I came from a world where science and magic coexisted, where protection had long been found. This world, with its cruel Gods and free-roaming monsters, was a wasteland. Despite the beauty of this estate, I was disgusted by its very existence.

[Congratulations! Shadow Manipulation is now Level 3! Class experience applied!]

I stared at the verdant green screen before me blankly. Already? I did notice that [Shadow Conjuration] did not receive a level. Perhaps, I thought to myself, Conjuration doesn’t care about how it moves. Just that I’ve summoned shadow to me and sustained it.

“[Shadow Conjuration]”

As I spoke, I envisioned the same cone of darkness. In dozens of spots around me, wisps of shadows materialized and grew –warping into the desired shape as I focused and forced my Will onto them. It was easier now that I knew I was just as capable as always. No, in this sense, I was even more capable. In elsewhere magic was but a small part of life —in Maeve and the greater Gargantua the magic of the system was life. To be capable at this is to be the crème de la crème. These Skills are attached to a [Rare] class for a reason.

Yet still, as I looked over the shadows that surrounded me like a locust swarm, the victory tasted bitter and I felt something horrible wrench my gut.

This victory had come at the cost of my life, after all.

I would rather be capable back home than spend any more time stuck in this hellish life.