by Sarah Lin
~ ~ ~
Bloodwraith stumbled through the forest for a time, trying to come to grips with everything that had happened to him. His life had become utter madness. It felt as though this place was not made for him, but for some insane being to whom all of this would make sense. At least the boxes had stopped appearing in his vision, allowing him to focus a little more.
Casting aside his confusion, he stopped walking and took stock. He had no idea which direction he had gone and could not make his way back to the clearing where the battle had taken place. However, there was a sign alongside the trail on which he walked, pointing the way to the exit. Convenient.
What resources did he have? There was a bag at his side with mana woven into it, so he tried to check it to see what he carried...
[Inventory (Extra-dimensional Bag)
Equipment: Iron Greatsword, Peasant's Shirt, Peasant's Pants, Peasant's Boots
Items: None
Key Items: Amulet of Reincarnation
Money: 0 G, 0 S, 0 C]
Well, that was what he carried. Though this box was slightly less contemptible than the others, Bloodwraith still despised it. Since he didn't have to pretend anymore, he reached out and attempted to crush the life of the miserable thing, or at least grind it out of existence. It faded away instead.
None of that mattered. He needed to focus on the essential fact that he had been reborn in the body of Raigar. Yet instead of taking control of the body of a powerful warrior, he was this scrawny weakling who didn't even look much like the original Raigar. This really was some sort of second life.
What that meant, he had no idea. It suggested strange and terrible things about his world, but Bloodwraith didn't feel equal to the task of unraveling such mysteries. He would settle for understanding what had made Raigar so unstoppable.
The Master Lich should have conquered the world, by all rights. It seemed impossible that some human adventurer could stand in their path, yet they'd all seen it. With each confrontation he had become far more powerful than the last time, acquiring power at a rate no one could explain. That had been what made Bloodwraith hold back, prepare his defenses and acquire the Wand, instead of throwing himself fully into the battle on the Master Lich's behalf.
Yet now that he possessed the body of the adventurer... what good did it do? What was special about it?
As if to mock him, another box appeared in response:
[Name: Raigar
Race: Human
Class: Barbarian
Alignment: Neutral
Health: 100/100
Mana: 10/10
Stamina: 100/100
Level: 1
EXP: 50/100
Statistics:
Might: 12
Vitality: 12
Quickness: 10
Intellect: 10
Charisma: 10
Willpower: 10
Wisdom: 8
Luck: 10
Piety: 8
Combat Skills: None
Skills: Two-handed Weapons (1), Evasion (1), Survivalism (1)
Proficiencies: Greatsword, Heavy Armor]
It seemed an incomprehensible mess, but he forced himself to try to comprehend it. The words were all familiar to him, even if the uses were strange. What did "Level" mean? He was in a forest, not a building. At least the "Statistics" seemed to measure comprehensible traits, most of them rated at 10...
"Eight wisdom?" Bloodwraith bellowed. "And only average intellect? Miserable box, how dare you bestow such lowly numbers upon me? Just because Raigar was a fool does not mean I am! What does any of this mean?"
[Might: This statistic is a measure of physical force. Might affects your ability to deal damage, carry weight, lift objects, and perform certain skills.
Vitality: This statistic is a measure of physical health. Vitality affects your ability to endure damage, resist disease...]
"Bah! I do not need you to define common words for me!" Bloodwraith struck at the box and it obligingly went away before explaining every single one of the words.
As insane as all this was, Bloodwraith was no fool. Clearly, these numbers represented the capacity of the body he had been given. Given that Raigar was a warrior, it was no surprise that he was given higher numbers for physical abilities. The labeling and division of it all seemed absurd and reductive, but the secret to the adventurer's impossible strength must lie somewhere in all this.
Unless he truly was going mad. As an experiment, Bloodwraith hefted his sword in one hand and ran one finger along the edge, drawing a line of blood. He had intended to think intensely about his physical well-being and see if he could summon another box, but one appeared unbidden:
[Health: 99/100]
A crude measure of his physical integrity, then. If he drew that much blood one hundred times in a row, it did seem likely that this body would bleed to death, so it was likely accurate to a degree. How it would account for complex injuries and the uncertainty of real combat, he had no idea. But all the foolish numbers at least correlated to reality in some way.
They were more distraction than help, however. Bloodwraith waved the box away and resolved to ignore them. More important than all of this nonsense was to find the secret of this adventurer's strength. Perhaps in time he could regain his old power.
Of course, the Master Lich had been destroyed. That meant that if Bloodwraith could rebuild his armies, then he would be the uncontested leader. He could destroy or conquer everyone who had stood in his way as he saw fit. And if another adventurer tried to stop him... well, he would need to be far better prepared than last time. So there would be no armies or revenge yet. First, he needed to play his role and uncover the mystery.
Bloodwraith began to set off down the forest path, pondering what to do first. Logically, what he needed was a path to power. His body refused to obey his old training, so he needed to resolve that first. Perhaps he could train himself, or at worst find some town guard who could beat the proper lessons into this body.
After that he would seek magical power, though it might be difficult to find in villages of ignorant peasants. His new body might have no talent for necromancy, but he could feel some magical capacity within it. If he found the right books and teachers, he could train his magical abilities as well. It might take several years, but he could fashion himself into a dangerous weapon again.
His plans were interrupted by the growl of a beast. Bloodwraith glanced down and sneered contemptuously at the thin wolf he saw slinking between the trees.
"Pathetic, starving creature! Put your tail between your legs and get out of my path!"
Instead of obeying, the wolf turned toward him, growling louder. Bloodwraith realized that he was not nearly so imposing in this form and the wolf likely thought of him as nothing but a meal. Most absurd of all, the creature might actually pose a threat to him.
It rushed forward and his hands moved to cast a spell - which he no longer possessed. As the wolf closed the distance, he grabbed for his sword, but the idiotically large thing couldn't move in time. The wolf hit him and slammed him onto his back.
Suddenly there was no time for thought. The beast snapped at his throat and somehow he'd thrown an arm into its jaws. Its teeth tearing through his flesh sent a surge of pain like he hadn't felt in years.
The panic made him grab for his sword again. He couldn't swing properly on his back, but he managed to slam the hilt of the sword into the wolf's side. It snarled and didn't let go of his arm.
Bloodwraith struck it again and again. Too late the beast started to retreat, realizing that it was in danger, but it was just an animal. It should have disabled his other arm and then finished him off. Instead, it pulled back, letting him manage a clumsy hack with his greatsword. The blow managed to drop the wolf, which allowed him finish it off with several messy stabs.
As soon as it was done, Bloodwraith collapsed backward onto the ground. One wolf had nearly killed him. One single wolf. Not only had he fought like an incompetent fool, he
was left with nothing. He could barely even feel the creature's death energy, and he couldn't turn its corpse into a minion. Pathetic.
[Victory! You received 10 EXP and one Wolf Pelt.]
"Do not mock me, accursed boxes!" He struck out at it, only then noticing just how many boxes floated in his vision. They had been nearly transparent during the fight, but now they forced themselves on him. As much as he hated them, he was too weary and demoralized to push them aside and his eyes began wandering over them.
[The wolf attacks! HP - 10! (90/100 HP)]
[The wolf attacks! HP - 15! (75/100 HP)]
[The wolf attacks! HP - 10! (65/100 HP)]
[You attack the wolf!! HP - 5! (45/50 HP)]
[The wolf attacks! HP - 5! (60/100 HP)]
[You attack the wolf!! HP - 5! (40/50 HP)]
[The wolf-]
"Enough!" Bloodwraith angrily swung his sword at the boxes until they went away. "Never show me such tediousness again, foul boxes!"
Yet as he sat there, he realized that if this system was to force itself on him, he should at least attempt to engage with it. After some focused thinking, he managed to summon the box that contained the description of Raigar's body and looked for the relevant part.
[Health: 45/100
Mana: 10/10
Stamina: 20/100]
According to the box's judgment, he had less than half his "Health" and a mere fifth of his "Stamina." Though Bloodwraith didn't feel like he was half-dead, having lost most of his stamina felt about right. Such wild struggling was so uncouth, leaving him exhausted and disgusted with himself. He dropped back onto the ground, slowly catching his breath as his arm continued to bleed.
It had been useless after all. He had thought he could possess Raigar's power, but all he had been given was this pathetic body and a curse of boxes explaining the obvious to him. Perhaps the world had recognized his deceit and stopped him. Or perhaps a special soul was required to make use of this power. Instead he had given up all his magic to become a weak brute.
He should have just let himself die instead of humiliating himself like this. Perhaps that was for the best. Bloodwraith decided to just wait there until his wounds finished bleeding out.
After lying there for a short time, though, he started to get bored. Bloodwraith summoned the box again to see how long it would take for him to die.
[Health: 58/100
Mana: 10/10
Stamina: 52/100]
What? He sat up, eyes widening. The box continued to hover in the center of his vision. As he watched, the numbers crept upward. When he looked down to his arm... it didn't change while he watched it, yet the torn flesh had started to knit itself back together while he wasn't looking.
Bloodwraith let himself smile and closed his eyes. Though he didn't feel any healing magic, he could tell on some deep level that he was regenerating. He realized that it had happened before, as well: the box had declared his "Health" to be 99/100 after cutting his finger, yet the wolf's first attack had reduced it to 90 instead of 89, as if the lost point had regenerated at some point.
After a time, Bloodwraith rose to his feet. His body felt restored and the box confirmed as much. Perhaps he had not sacrificed everything for nothing: this body held at least one truly amazing power. And thinking back, in the early days Raigar had been so weak that the Master Lich said he could be ignored. It might be that his true potential lay in how the path to power had been smoothed for him.
That was enough that he couldn't give up yet. Bloodwraith approached the wolf's corpse and collected its pelt, though he struggled to remember how. For the first time he tried to use the Extra-dimensional Bag the box had told him he supposedly possessed - when he pushed the wolf pelt into the bag, it disappeared as it should. Yet the magic seemed altered... a moment later, another box appeared, filled with dozens of smaller panes, one of which held a small picture of the wolf pelt.
[Inventory: (Extra-dimensional Bag)
Equipment: Peasant's Shirt, Peasant's...]
"Yes, yes, I can see it." His voice wasn't filled with as much venom as usual, however. If he could truly see the contents of the magical bag at a glance, that was actually an improvement to the magic. Given how it could be difficult to find the exact item needed, Extra-dimensional Bags were frustrating enough that only traveling adventurers bothered with them. But this...
Bloodwraith experimented with the strange box and found it surprisingly easy to remove and replace the wolf pelt. The system was simple and intuitive. Finally, something that wasn't a waste of time. He should explore his abilities further to see what else he might possess. Why did Raigar run around killing monsters when with this simple improvement to the magic, he could have lived like a king?
But first, Bloodwraith needed enough strength that this foolish warrior's body would not be completely useless. Hearkening back to his old training, Bloodwraith began to swing his sword experimentally, improving his form. It was as if this body refused to accept what he knew in his mind, but with disciplined work he might be able to retrain it.
[Skill improved: Two-handed Weapons
Current Level: 1
Current Progress: 5%]
[Attribute improved: Might
Current Level: 12
Current Progress: 11%]
[Attribute improved-]
He grunted away the boxes and swung his sword again... and more boxes appeared. Bloodwraith opened his mouth to curse at the boxes again, but they disappeared before he could say anything. When he set his mind against the boxes, he was able to swing without any more of them appearing.
Excellent. The curse of the boxes was beginning to bend to his will. He let out a malevolent chuckle and went back to work.
Though he wasn't sure how long passed, Bloodwraith spent a long time retraining himself. Once he felt that his form was correct, he began to test swinging the greatsword into the side of a tree isolated on one side of the clearing. It bit into the bark clumsily at first, but gradually he managed to cut deeper. This body had the strength to wield such a large sword, at least, despite appearing scrawny.
By the time he hacked down the tree, he was exhausted and a great deal of time had passed. Yet strangely, the woods had grown no darker, still filled with the same soft light as it had been at the beginning. That should not be possible... yet perhaps this place disobeyed the laws of the world.
Satisfied with himself, Bloodwraith willed his personal box into being again.
[Name: Raigar
Race: Human
Class: Barbarian
Alignment: Neutral
Health: 100/100
Mana: 10/10
Stamina: 16/100
Level: 1
EXP: 60/100
Statistics:
Might: 12
Vitality: 12
Quickness: 10
Intellect: 10
Charisma: 10
Willpower: 10
Wisdom: 8
Luck: 10
Piety: 8
Combat Skills: None
Skills: Two-handed Weapons (1), Evasion (1), Survivalism (1)
Proficiencies: Greatsword, Heavy Armor]
It was not very helpful. Muttering about the aggrieving box, Bloodwraith dismissed it... and another box appeared a moment later.
[Training complete!
Stamina Progress: 21.4%
Might Progress: 12.7%
Vitality Progress: 8.4%
Quickness Progress: 4.3%
Two-handed Weapons Progress: 7.6%]
What the hell did any of that mean? Bloodwraith was familiar with numbers from his magical training, but hadn't expected the sheer number of them in the boxes - apparently being an adventurer was more like being an accountant than a great warrior.
Most importantly, progress toward what? If the percentage was progress toward some final ideal, then it seemed absurd that he had improved so much in a short time. But if it was progress toward some incremental improvement, then he was infuriated th
at he had done so little.
His focus on the numbers created a new box, which he barely avoided dismissing reflexively.
[When the progress meter increases to 100%, the attribute or skill will increase by one level.]
"What? You mean I trained that long and earned only a fraction of a slight increase in strength?"
[When the progress meter increases to 100%, the attribute or skill will increase by one level.]
"I know that, spiteful box! I am saying that your numbers are vile lies!"
[When the progress meter-]
"Enough!" Bloodwraith dismissed all the boxes and spent a while fuming in silence. Though his body felt refreshed rather quickly, his mind remained troubled. Perhaps if he remained here and chopped down the entire forest, he would eventually make some meaningful progress. But he had no time for that, he had a world to conquer.
At that moment, he heard the growling of a wolf. No, two wolves.
Bloodwraith spun and readied his sword, far more disciplined than he had been before. Despite the danger from the two wolves approaching him, he took a moment to curse the boxes for their inaccuracy. If they didn't account for such an improvement, what were they good for?
Though it seemed strange that two wolves would approach even with the corpse of another lying so close, they advanced aggressively. Then again, wolves were pack hunters, so it was bizarre that only one would have attacked him alone. Perhaps all of these wolves were diseased and not thinking clearly.
When the two wolves rushed him, this time Bloodwraith was ready. He swung his sword in a huge horizontal sweep and was satisfied to feel it bite deep into the side of the first wolf. The other swept in, biting and clawing at his side, but he managed to kick it away.