Falling with Folded Wings: A LitRPG Progression Fantasy, page 2
Morgan stood up and stretched his aching joints, peering into the shadows. He could see that the ceiling was average height and looked to be gray in the dim light, just like the wall he’d been lying near. He took a step toward the nearby wall and placed a hand on it. Cool stone. Definitely stone. Solid and thick. Morgan walked along the wall and came to a corner. Another stone wall. As he moved away from the glowing marble, his eyes adjusted gradually to the dark, and he realized he was in a rectangular room about fifteen by thirty feet. He’d been lying near one corner. Morgan walked the perimeter until he was in the corner opposite where he’d been lying and furthest from the glowing marble, and he saw that there was a wooden door with large metal hinges. The door was smooth, and the boards it was crafted from were a rich, deep brown. It fit almost perfectly into the stone doorway, with just the tiniest of cracks between the wood and stone. There was no handle.
Morgan gingerly felt around the wood, gently pressing and trying to pull at the edge with his fingernails. He couldn’t get it to move at all. So he continued his circuit around the room and found absolutely nothing but the tile floor and the stone walls. He felt he’d be hard-pressed to even come up with some dust. He walked over the cool, hard tiles back to the glowing marble. “I guess it comes down to you, eh?” Once again, Morgan stretched his right hand out to the marble, noting that the warmth was not at all unpleasant, even less than an inch from his fingers. Very gingerly, he stretched his fingers out the last little bit and felt the smooth, warm surface of the glowing ball.
There was a bit of a flare, and Morgan pulled his hand back, but the light moved with it. He realized his hand felt very warm and the light was moving through his finger and into his skin. The warmth spread through his hand and up his arm. He held his arm out and saw that the light was spreading through his body, almost like it was traveling in his veins. At first, his hand and arm were glowing, but as the warmth spread through his body, Morgan felt like he’d been dropped into a warm, luxurious bath, and the glow faded.
***Congratulations! You have achieved level 1 base human.***
The message was floating in front of Morgan’s eyes. White text on a gray, semi-opaque background. Morgan reached up to his face, wondering if he’d had augmented reality glasses on this whole time, but there was nothing there. He closed his eyes, and the screen was still there! He opened his eyes and realized the room wasn’t completely dark, despite the disappearance of the glowing marble—there was a diffuse dim light emanating from the ceiling. He reached out and tried to feel the screen in front of his face. To his surprise, he could feel it. It was pliable and stretchy and moved with this hand. Morgan swiped the screen like he would dismiss a notification on a workstation, and it worked—it zipped away, shrinking into nothing. Only to be replaced with another one:
“Uh, what the hell is this? Am I in a game?” Morgan’s mind was spinning. Though he spoke out loud, he was surprised when another screen popped up in front of the status screen.
***You have been integrated into a System controlled domain.***
Morgan grunted in thought and then swiped the message aside, looking more closely at the status screen. “Let’s see. Race, class, level, stats—a lot like a VR RPG back home.” Morgan wondered about his stats. What was the maximum stat? Was there a maximum? It seemed his intelligence was much higher than his strength. It made sense—he wasn’t a weakling, but he wasn’t exactly a bodybuilder. He’d always been smart, though, and good with puzzles—it’s how he’d gotten his position on the colony ship. What was Energy affinity? He suddenly had a thought and spoke out loud, “What is the System?”
***The System is a term used to describe the autonomous collective of benevolent entities that collaboratively manage the Energy infused portions of the known universes to create better harmony between sapient species and Energy and to push those sapient species to greater heights of understanding and advancement.***
Morgan swiped away the screen and said, “What is energy?”
***Energy is the living force that infuses all beings and materials in System-controlled portions of the known universes.***
Morgan sighed and pushed away the screen. That seemed a little circular. “What does Energy do?” No response. “Who are the entities that make up the System?” No response. “Am I speaking to the System now?” No response. He decided to take another tack: “What is a class?”
***A Class is a System-curated set of skills and attributes.***
Interesting. “How do I get a class?”
***The System has determined that Humans will be eligible for a class selection at the tenth level.***
“What are attributes?” Nothing. “What is strength?”
***Strength is the measure of your physical power relative to other Energy infused beings.***
That was basically what Morgan had figured. “What is will?”
***Will is the measure of your ability to impose or resist Energy-based influences. It is one of the determining factors in the calculation of your maximum Energy potential.***
Morgan rubbed his head in thought. “What is an Energy-based influence?” No response. “Uh, why do I have twenty out of zero Energy?” Nothing. “What is vitality?”
***Vitality is the measure of your physical and mental durability relative to other Energy infused beings.***
So far, he hadn’t heard anything surprising. “What are dexterity, intelligence, and agility?”
***Dexterity is the measure of your fine motor skills relative to other Energy infused beings.***
***Intelligence is the measure of your ability to manipulate Energy in novel and complex ways and how quickly you do so. It is the main factor in the calculation of your maximum Energy potential.***
***Agility is the measure of your physical prowess and speed relative to other Energy infused beings.***
So, intelligence didn’t automatically make you a super genius, but was more about how fast you could think and use this so-called Energy. “What is a title?”
***Titles and Feats are System generated packages of perks that are reflective of individual merit.***
Morgan chuckled to himself at the idea that the system had marked him out as some kind of champion based on the “merit” that he was awake, and everyone else was in cryo-sleep. Clearly, the System was not flawless. “How do I see what my title does?”
***Human Champion: Transient title. Energy efficacy enhanced 1.5x. More frequent access to System generated Opportunities for Refinement.***
“What the hell is an opportunity for refinement?” No window popped up to answer his frustrated query. “What is a transient title?” No answer. Morgan could only assume that it meant that the title was literally transient—it moved around. He guessed it made sense—whoever the “champion” of a civilization was would have the title, and that wouldn’t always be the same person. Surely, whenever the rest of the colonists were awake, the system would realize its mistake and move the title to Arthur Ballard, the leader of the Colonial Senate. “What is system language integration?”
***All sapient beings in System controlled space are enhanced with the ability to communicate via a common dialect.***
Well, that solidified a fear Morgan was starting to develop—the System could monkey with him in any number of ways, including planting a language in his mind. He didn’t even know if he was speaking English or “System” right now. He spent the next several minutes trying to get more information out of the strange System UI, but he couldn’t pull any more help screens up. Apparently, he wasn’t talking to the System, but just accessing some very minimal help files that were built into whatever interface the System had provided him. “Well, what now?”
***Quest: Survive the Crucible. Reward(s): Commensurate with achievements. Continued existence. Location of other Human entities. Accept? YES/NO***
MORGAN
What the fuck?” Morgan groaned as an unseen lock on the door clicked, and it silently swung open. There was evidently more light outside the room than in, because Morgan could see a flickering amber glow outlining the gap between the door and the wall. He wanted to look through the opening and see what was beyond, but he also wanted to know just what the hell was going on with himself. Something was up with his mind. Morgan’s entire world had been turned upside down here; he was in a stone room in some boxer shorts and was seeing and hearing shit that should only exist in a VR game. Yet, he was taking things in stride. He hadn’t always had a cushy life; he’d seen his share of problems on Earth during the collapse, but he sure as hell shouldn’t be feeling so fine about things. Had the System screwed with his mind? Like more than just putting in a UI and changing his language? Did it pump him with dopamine or something? What else had the System changed about him?
Morgan examined his thoughts for a few minutes. He thought about his childhood, his schooling, the competition to join the Arkship colony. Everything seemed to be there, but would he know if something wasn’t? He thought back to his sister and how she had died during the Great Lakes conflict. Yeah, he still felt shitty about that. He still could imagine crawling into a ball and giving up. Okay, so his emotions weren’t all smoothed over, but for some reason, he just wasn’t freaking out about his current situation. “Huh, survive the Crucible, eh?” He stepped over to the doorway.
Tiptoeing, barefoot on the cool tile floor, he felt like he was nearly silent. Gingerly, he pulled the door just a bit wider and peered into the space beyond. He saw a hallway with walls and a floor much like the room in which he stood. It stretched to his left and right, and about forty feet to the right, he could make out a corner because there appeared to be a lantern mounted there. It was glowing with an actual flame dancing behind a glass panel. Morgan stepped out of the room and began to creep toward the lantern. He’d made it about halfway to the corner when he heard feet slapping rapidly on the stone floor and wheezing, grunting inhalations behind him. Morgan spun around in time to see a short, gray, totally nude, and hairless man charging at him with a sharpened stick pointed right at his stomach. By the time Morgan recovered from his shock, the makeshift spear was almost upon him. He twisted to his left, and instead of running him through, the jagged wooden tip left a painful scratch along his stomach. The momentum of the little man carried him in front of Morgan, and Morgan reflexively shoved him as he went by.
The gray man stumbled and fell to the hard floor, tangling with the haft of his spear. He turned and looked at Morgan from the ground, and that was when Morgan realized the man’s eyes were bright yellow. He spread his lips and hissed at him, and Morgan saw that the man had teeth more fitting a wildcat than a person, and his tongue was long and forked.
“Yo, settle down, man!” Morgan yelled, holding out his hands and crouching into a defensive pose. He’d been trained in self-defense techniques like all prospective colonists, and before that, he’d served in one of the Resistance militias, though he spent that time mostly pulling a trigger, not fighting hand to hand. The man, or creature, as Morgan was now starting to think of it, hissed again and struggled to its feet, leveling the spear once more at Morgan and advancing. “I’m serious, guy. Back off!”
“Hsssssssssss!” The creature burst into a run, once more trying to skewer Morgan. This time Morgan was ready, and he sidestepped, grabbing the haft of the spear and wrenching it in a half-circle while thrusting his weight into the creature’s forward momentum. It lost its grip on the spear and sprawled onto the hard floor. Morgan could see dark blood smearing the creature’s knees and the tiles. This time it was Morgan’s turn to level the spear at the little beast.
“Back off,” he said, once again. The creature struggled to its feet, and Morgan could see that it was weak; its stomach was hollow, and its ribs protruded. It looked at Morgan, hissed, gnashed its many sharp teeth, and charged him, hands with black claws outstretched. Morgan lowered his center of gravity and thrust the spear directly into the creature’s stomach. He felt a moment of resistance, and the spear burst through, dark blood splattering onto the floor. The creature wailed piteously, gripping at the haft of the spear weakly. Morgan pushed the little monster backward and held it pinned to the ground. Soon, its wails turned to gurgles, and foamy blood dripped from its mouth as its chest stopped heaving, and its arms fell limply to the ground.
Morgan didn’t have time to think about what he’d just done before something strange happened to the corpse. A shimmering layer of gold-colored dust sparkled around it, and surged into a stream that flowed straight at Morgan. He was startled and tried to dodge to the side, but it was impossible to avoid. The stream of tiny golden motes hit him square in the chest, and it felt just like when he’d touched the glowing marble earlier—warmth spread from his chest into his limbs and head, then faded to a general feeling of warm satisfaction. “Goddamn! What the hell was that?” Morgan ran his hands along his body and couldn’t find anything amiss. Surprisingly, he felt pretty good. The scratch along his abdomen wasn’t as bad as he’d thought it was, just a raised welt with a thin line of blood in the middle.
Morgan had killed plenty of people in the various conflicts that ravaged the North American continent over the decade or so before he’d been selected to join the Pilgrim 9 mission. It haunted him at first, but survival was survival, and he’d created a hard place in his mind to put those feelings, especially when his sister died. He definitely wasn’t the same guy he’d been before that. He didn’t like that he’d had to kill this creature, but if it wanted to stab him, he was plenty happy to turn the tables rather than the alternative. “Status.” The only difference he could see is that he now had twenty-four out of zero energy. What the hell? It was a mystery he’d have to unravel sooner rather than later, if his gut feeling was correct.
Morgan looked up and down the hall and at the corpse at his feet. He wondered if this guy was alone. The fight certainly hadn’t been quiet with the thing screeching and Morgan yelling at it. So far, nothing else seemed to be coming. He reached down and grabbed the body by the ankle and dragged it back to his doorway and into the room he’d started in. There wasn’t much he could do about the blood smears, though. He took a good look at the spear he’d taken from the creature. It was made of tough wood, and the carved point was black like it had been hardened in a fire. Morgan felt immeasurably less naked with the spear in his hand.
Once again, Morgan was stealthily creeping toward the lantern at the corner of the hallway. This time he managed to get there without being attacked, and his eyes had become so adjusted to the darkness that he found it difficult to look directly at the little flame in the brass-colored lantern. It was hung from an iron bracket by a long brass handle, and Morgan decided to take it with him, lifting it off the bracket without any trouble. It was heavy with oil or whatever it used for fuel, and he had to assume someone or something had filled it fairly recently. The hallway that stretched in front of him continued for about fifty feet and, there, highlighted by the glow of another lantern, was a second wooden door.
Morgan kept the lantern in his left hand while holding the spear, like he was ready to stab it forward, as you might hold it if you were going to throw it, in his other hand. He advanced at a slow, careful pace toward the door. When he was about eight feet or so from the door, Morgan noticed a sound coming from within. It was sort of a mewling, crying sound. As he crept closer, more noises started to leak through the door—grunting and guttural laughter. This door wasn’t so perfectly fit into the frame, and the wooden slats didn’t mesh without a gap like the door to his room. Holding his breath, Morgan leaned forward, peering with one eye through a wide crack. If he hadn’t been holding his breath, he would have found himself frozen with shock, and unable to breathe anyway, by the sight that confronted him.
The door separated the hallway from a much more crudely wrought room. The walls weren’t uniform to the point of almost looking like natural cavern walls. The room had a stone floor covered in debris and bits of rock and dirt. Lying on the floor, with her hands and feet bound with a rough hemp rope, was a humanoid female. The woman had long, bright-yellow hair and pale blue skin. Her eyes and mouth were covered with strips of cloth, and Morgan could see she was the source of the keening, muffled cries. There were two of those gray creatures hunched over the lower part of her body, and as Morgan realized what they were doing, he started to hyperventilate: they were eating her. Alive.
Something snapped in Morgan, and his vision narrowed to a tunnel. He set the lantern down and yanked the door open. The door wasn’t held in place by any sort of a latch, and it scraped along the tiles as he pulled, but he was through it and jamming a spear, with two hands, into the back of the first creature before it could turn around. He kicked the creature off the spear and swung the haft around, smashing the face of the second creature before it could finish standing up. The butt of the spear crunched into its nose and left eye socket, and it dropped to the ground with a thud. The first creature was writhing on its stomach away from Morgan, leaving a broad, slippery streak of blood behind it. Morgan stepped forward and drove the spear into its lower back, and it stopped moving. He looked around in the dark room, but nothing else moved. The woman was still crying, and Morgan started to walk over to her when two streams of golden motes slammed into his chest.
***Congratulations! You have achieved level 2 base human and have 5 attribute points to allocate.***
The brief euphoria from the Energy, at least that’s what Morgan suspected it was, flooding into him broke through his murderous rage, and he took a deep breath, steadying himself before he knelt next to the woman. She was wearing a tan-colored close-fitting cloth shift, her legs and feet bare. The beasts had horrifically mutilated her right leg, the thigh chewed to the bone. Although she’d bled a great deal, Morgan could see she was still taking shallow breaths and softly whimpering. He carefully pulled the blindfold away from her eyes and said, “Easy, easy. They’re dead.”
