“REEEEEEEEE! I will bring down the might of my entire inheritance upon all you love! I will slaughter everything you hold dear and torture you for an eternity. Look at me you dirty piece of shit! GET ME OUT OF THIS TH–”
Instead of reacting to the screamed comments, Douglas pulls up the blue boxes that still await his inspection.
[ New skill generated: Galactic Standard lvl 2 ]
[ Skill incompatible with ‘Universal Language’ ]
[ Equipment slot ‘sVital nWear autoSuit’ integrated; +10 Con, +3 Int ]
[ New skill generated: Basic Math lvl 2 ]
These few messages stand out to Douglas. He slowly retraces all that has happened so far and realizes that the blue boxes seem to be catching up on events that already occurred. This takes him a mere five minutes of pondering, the odd language skill setting him on multiple wrong mental trains of thought. Didn’t he already get a math relates skill a while ago? And then the equipment change he did ages ago got processed?
“Why am I not DEEEAAAA–”
[ sVital nWear autoSuit; a mass-produced, vacuum grade insulated, radiation shielded spacesuit with inbuilt heating, air, and waste filtration, water reclamation, and GalaxNet interface unit. Battery life of one standard year. Con +8, Int +3 (damaged; -2 Con) ]
That sounds about right, Douglas thinks. He does not need any of the fancy features but takes note of the fact that the one-year battery life of the suit will keep his computer going for a while. Navigating the rather complicated web of obtuse menus just tickles the skeleton’s limited intellect in a satisfying manner. The damage must be from his burned glove, its half melted tatters even now sticking to his ulna and radius.
“SERVANT! Tell me why I’m not dead while swimming in an engineered bioweapon? TELL ME! FUCK OFF, YOU RED PIECE OF SH–”
[ xp calculations finished ]
[ Advanced Histaff canine lvl 3 slain; 150 xp earned ]
[ Complete Histaff amalgamation lvl 5 slain; 500 xp earned ]
[ Complete Histaff amalgamation lvl 11 slain; 15000 xp earned ]
[ Advanced Histaff feline lvl 6 slain; 1000 xp earned ]
[ Advanced Histaff canine lvl 4 slain; 300 xp earned ]
[ Complete Histaff amalgamation lvl 21 slain; 250000 xp earned ]
[ Complete Histaff amalgamation lvl 16 slain; 75000 xp earned ]
[ Renovate dead; failed due to the necrotic tissue being under Histaff control ]
Douglas nods his bony cranium slowly as the blue boxes finally give him his just due. The system governing these lines of white text against a blue background has given him too little experience points before, but he had let it slide back then. It’s good that his efforts are now properly recognized.
No more blue lines present themselves to the skeleton’s burning gaze so he ponders what to do next. The uproar of monster activity around him has already calmed down. The woman is still helplessly thrashing about in the transparent, red slime. She keeps trying to scream, and her struggles don’t show any signs of stopping yet.
So Douglas decides he might as well do his third race change. Changing a race might seem like a large step, but Douglas has noticed little effect besides a changing pool of mana. His eyes burning brightly, Douglas calls up the options he has and presses the line that says arcane skeleton.
The world goes black for an instant, and the skeleton wakes up to an unchanged scene. The only difference is that the woman is looking slightly less clothed, the garb she is wearing seems to be vanishing slowly. Just when he looks at her, she starts thrashing with full vigour again.
“RELEASE ME! I WILL NOT BE TREATED LIKE THIS!”
Douglas stares at the woman with empty eyes. The red slime - or complete Histaff amalgamation, as it seems to be called - is moving with considerably less speed than before. This allows the barely clad woman to poke her head out as she treads water with all her might. The slime seems to be trying to contain the woman by caging her in with bones, but she just slaps or kicks them away, instead using them for leverage.
Douglas listens to her for a while. At first, the sentences coming out of her mouth are just incoherent cursing, demands, and vitriol. She calms down after a while, changing tactics to a more directed type of verbal abuse. Still struggling inside the meat slime, she starts monologuing while staring directly into the reflective visor that Douglas is wearing.
“… don't care what kind of anti-mainstream statement you are trying to make, but even a total beggar and the lowest scum of society wouldn’t want to be seen dead in a piece of expired nWear trash. Those lines are just screaming to the world that you're a good for nothing that’s absolutely useless. And then that hand, how did you even manage to burn it? How are you animating it? Nano? Tech? External? Doesn’t look like you can afford even open gen tech. You a closed crony or an open dumbass? Those suits things are star dive grade. Is that another fashion statement? Anyway, I’ve had enough of this.”
Douglas is actually quite happy. At the very least, not really happy, but he feels more of a sullen form of contentment at learning new things. The words went by too fast for him to follow at first, the now snappy and direct suggestions and hints telling him the meaning of each word at such a speed he could barely keep up.
“… original though, I’ve got to give you that. Out of all my awakenings, this one is the most memorable so far! So pat yourself on the back, you cretin. I, Katarenin Auchinfon Tomat Peezes, will acknowledge you for that, and I shall be sure to acknowledge you some more once I reach civilization again. And all your family, friends, family, everyone you have ever known, especially all your family, I shall acknowledge them thoroughly. With great care and over a long period of time.”
Here the lady stops, catching her breath as her chest heaves rapidly. This allows Douglas to mentally catch up to what she has been saying. He nods slowly, a small flicker of pride appearing and vanishing shortly after. He just keeps sitting there, staring at the expectant woman.
“So get me out now, and I will make it short for you. Only a few decennia in the pain vats - that’ll be enough if you remove me now.”
Douglas keeps sitting there, wincing slightly as the meaning of ‘pain vats’ disseminates through his mind.
“How did you all do this, by the way? It’s not true Histaff. I would’ve been dissolved and repurposed a thousand times over had this been real. No sapient survives contact, after all. It seems real compared to the holos that I’ve seen. Are we really somewhere in the rim? Damn, I’m class X jump certified, but I’m sure you guys or the best pilot out here is a class 200 at most. Stars, getting back is going to take a while. Seriously, get me out of this goop already! I’m getting tired of …”
Douglas just sits there, content in drinking in all the new information that is being provided by the woman's monologue. Each time a word passes through his skull, the meaning thickens. Each different usage of a phrase or a term causes his understanding to grow. The woman’s vocabulary and stamina are impressive. Even after a few hours of listening, new words keep appearing.
Then it stops. Just as Douglas feels that he stopped learning new things, her demeanour changes. She has been half sulking, half glaring the past few hours while chatting to herself and her silent audience. Then her face snaps into a mask of rage as if a switch is flipped.
“GET ME OUT NOW YOU INSOLENT SHITSTAIN! I WILL NOT BE TREATED–”
Slightly taken aback, Douglas wonders what caused the sudden change. The woman’s mood switching for the negative starts affecting the skeleton as well. The tone she is using is rather grating to his non-existent ears, and the words keep repeating. The imagery of all kinds of foul things, species, and acts keep intruding in his mind as he listens to the shrieking woman. Hours go by as the meaning of her vitriol become truly clear, hammering against his mood.
Then Douglas has had enough. The constantly repeating broadcast was one thing; this deluge of negativity is another. The repetition was soothing in an irritating way; he knew what would be sa
id, and the slow supply of meaning to the foreign sounds kept it interesting after he lost count. This stream of profanities just keeps shoving negative meaning in his mind without any benefit.
Because his spell shapes have solved all his problems so far, Douglas stands up and mentally brings up one of the complex circles. The meaning of the forms, lines and runes flood into his mind. He suddenly realizes that every sentence is indeed ended by a dot. The meaning of runes is suddenly clear to the skeleton as he pours mana into the shape he chose. The slime surrounding the woman’s body is torn from the animated goop as it gathers in a ball. Blackened fingers of bone are curled into a claw while the sphere of water forming in front of it ignites with thick flames. Douglas ignores the shrieks and tosses the globe of fire towards the source of his annoyance.
[ Complete Histaff amalgamation lvl 14 slain; 16000 xp earned ]
Douglass wills the blue box away as he sees the woman’s head and hair go up in smoke. The slime starts disintegrating as its surface boils away. This, in combination with the forceful dehydration, is enough to finish the weakened amalgamation. The woman somehow lands on her feet as the red goop holding her up disintegrates, her hands and feet frozen and unmoving.
Skin burns, hair turns to ash, and brains start bubbling out of the woman’s orifices. Douglas is also frozen in indecision. He wanted her to shut up, yes, but the flames are burning for longer than he expected. The image of a half-naked, goop covered woman whose head is burning brightly is a sight that Douglas has no ready action plan for.
So the two just stand there; Douglas has risen from his seat, and the woman is still as her head burns. Minutes go by as the two stare at each other, Douglas continuously peering into the glowing eyes visible through the fire. The last licks of flame fade, leaving a blackened skull behind. The woman then keels over backward, her head making a hissing sound as the remains of red goop cool the heated skull that smashed into the slimy floor.
Douglas has once again no reaction or action ready for this situation. Instead, he is distracted by blue boxes exploding in his face. He had commanded them to be small earlier, but now they keep popping up in front of his vision despite his attempts to keep them away.
[ System boon earned; removed working brain from system, -999999999 xp, -999999999 xp, -NAN xp, -NAN xp ]
[ … ]
[ Soul instability; race changed locked for 999999999 days ]
[ Addition scan halted at 68%, estimated new addition rewards; 999999999 xp ]
[ Apparel scan halted at 99% ]
[ … ]
[ Renovated thrall Katarenin Auchinfon Tomat Peezes has changed to; lesser arcane skeleton (fleshclad) ]
[ … ]
Douglas tries to look away and dismiss the boxes, but the moment he closes them, his vision is again filled with a blank, blue screen. He struggles for minutes with the insistent screens. He finally just sits down and waits for the unchanging empty box to fill with text.
[ … ]
[ Congratulations, you are now a tier 3 race; choose one permanent racial trait ]
[ Desiccated form ]
[ Entrenched soul ]
[ Spread soul ]
[ Projected voice ]
[ Incorporeal form ]
[ Changing form ]
Douglas looks around when the stream of blue bars finally stops. The long pauses between each set of boxes and the sheer sense of vitriol that is somehow conveyed through the interface would have given him goose bumps had he any skin. A scraping noise attracts his attention, and he looks at the moving female.
Douglas finds her head a lot more attractive now. The previous attraction came from far away, like some long forgotten reflex that reared its head despite it no longer being needed. Now though, Douglas’ skeletal thoughts keep halting as he looks at her.
The soft light coming from above casts enchanting shadows on the blackened ridge of bone that runs along her temple. The way her protruding cheekbones catch the light on the outside while the insides of her pitch-black eye sockets are lit up by blue eye flames halts his line of thought. The fact that her neck ends in a mangled and raw stump of flesh detracts from the entire scene, though. Douglas sees charred remains of veins, sinew, airway, and esophagus sticking up from the dark flesh.
He is sure he would have puked if he had a stomach. Fighting the distraction, Douglas queries the system on what racial trait means and what they all do. His gaze wanders to the woman again.
[ … ]
The empty blue box blocking his vision is a relief and disappointment both. Douglas then patiently waits for the information to fill in. Ten minutes later, he is still waiting. Half an hour later, he hears the soft squelching noises of the woman sitting down. Douglas tries to see what she is doing out of the corner of his eye, but the blank blue screen seems to shift in whatever direction he is looking.
[ Racial trait; a permanent feature ]
Douglas reads it at least twenty times, trying to find hidden meaning in the words before giving up and dismissing the screen. A single second later, another empty blue screen blocks his view.
[ … ]
A few hours later, Douglas stops studying his spell shapes. He has made some progress in understanding more intricacies of the runes and lines, but the flood of information he had when casting the face-melting fireball is reduced to but a trickle once again. He stops trying to divine meaning from the abstruse shapes because the blue screen is filled with information.
[ Desiccated form; modifies your spell matrix to support a slight amount of skin and flesh ]
[ Entrenched soul; modifies your spell matrix to merge your soul over your entire corporeal form ]
[ Spread soul; modifies your spell matrix to allow for multiple attachment points ]
[ Projected voice; modifies your spell matrix to allow for a permanent voice projection spell ]
[ Incorporeal form; modifies your spell matrix to allow for free-flying episodes of detachment from your corporal form ]
[ Changing form; allows for quick detachment and reattachment of limbs at joints. Imbues separated joints with enough power to keep together for a limited time ]
Douglas looks up from the screen, minimizing it with a thought. The woman - didn’t she say her name earlier? - is sitting on the ground, hugging her knees. Her forehead has the same telltale glow as the flames in her empty sockets. Douglas waddles over and sits his bony ass down next to her. She looks up like a startled critter, flinching under the piercing stare of two blue flames behind a reflective visor.
He studies her blackened skull, carefully stretching his hand out and plucking a piece of charred skin from her jawbone. She trembles but remains still. Looking at her, he sees something that catches his eye. He grabs the left sleeve of his spacesuit and starts wiping at the grime covering her skull with black fingers.
He gently wipes at her forehead, uncovering patches of white bone. A faint blue glow seems to hang around the bleached surface, and Douglas sees small stretches of damaged bone glowing with a soft light. He continues wiping at her skull until he reaches the place that caught his interest, the side of her head. A small, round area of bone is not white but shiny metal. Inspecting it closely, he sees fine, inlaid wires of a yellow metal together with small protrusions. Nearly invisible to his naked eyes, he feels the small irregularities as he runs his fingers across the metal. Each small, metal protrusion sends a small shock of feedback up his arm.
Wiping some more, he finds more spots were metal appears instead of bone. Tenderly wiping at her eye sockets, he finds the entire hollow space riddled with metal. Turning her head, he sees metal wires running from her ear and spinal openings. His curiosity has only grown larger, and for the first time in his life, Douglas feels the need to ask for information. So Douglas opens the blue screen again and pushes the projected voice option. Once again, his vision goes black.
A scraping sound wakes Douglas from his involuntary slumber. His consciousness returns along with his sense of sight, and he finds
himself staring into a soot-smudged skull. Soft hands are prodding at his own hand. The woman is bending his fingers, playing with them and testing their range. Douglas finds himself just lying there, unwilling to move as he observes the much-changed woman mess with his bony digits.
Douglas loses himself in the ministrations. For the first time in the skeleton’s conscious life, someone else is touching him who doesn’t want to kill him. The blackened skull and the white skull sit there for a long time, surrounded by red goop and ignored by the many bugs and monsters that scuttle around them. Wall-mounted screens keep flashing and changing with ads and short clips, showing propaganda, or selling products.
The woman seems intent on continuing to mess with his hand, and Douglas feels no inclination to stop her. His attention thus wanders from the shiny metal showing between soot-covered bone to the large displays on the side. Douglas’ thoughts stop momentarily as he wonders why he didn’t pay them any attention before now. These thoughts are halted as a particular image catches his attention.
Between all the shiny promotions peddling spacesuits, guns, drinks, and spaceships, Douglas sees a small video about a crying child. A shadow covers the weeping babe, which causes it to smile. Looking upwards, a blue-clad man comes into view, shielding the kid from all kinds of projectiles and monsters. Then the screen changes and a tentacled hobo is gunned down by a smiling, rich being holding three fancy guns. Then a four-armed woman jumps in physically impossible ways while eating some kind of colourfully wrapped bar.
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