Chương 5

Kirk had no memories of his past life. Vague impressions lingered and often his hands would move in mirage-like habits. At those times, in the gloomy darkness of the Rift, he would stare down at his fingers in wonder. It was not a good feeling to feel his body was a stranger to him. So Kirk grounded himself with the memories he could create now. The sensation of wind in this alien world. The feeling of his fingers tightening on the shaft of his spear.

The sound of a geo's claws scratching on stone as it sniffed for the stale scent of blood. He learned the whims and inclinations of the phantom Beast Archetype. He also learned to appreciate the minor but constant warmth coming from his Spark Mage Archetype. When all was still and silent, when his Heightened Senses gave him a picture of the surrounding world, Kirk knew his part in it. After two days of struggles, Kirk looked at the bottom section of his info.

Archetype: Beast (0) -Runes: [None] -Manifestations: Heighten Senses -Ascension: Death Eating (12/30) Feats: -Solo Kills ✷✷ -Alien Taste ✷ -Alien Moon ✷ The Solo Kills Feat had improved to two star after he had killed 10 geos. Which made Kirk expectant for another improvement in the Feat, if he stayed here and continued to work. Meanwhile, he had earned the Alien Moon Feat after staying here for 24 hours. This, too, likely would improve, but unfortunately it wasn't just 48 hours.

Do the stars indicate how many Feats they satisfy, for Ascension, or just the quality? Kirk wondered. His mind shrugged.

Yet he felt confident in his discoveries. He began to understand the dangers of the Rift (aside from the nonsense about pollution). The threat of geo-3s was manageable. He could fix this. Satisfied with his progress, Kirk checked his pack. The pool of water had helped him conserve his own water, so he still had about half a water skin remaining. But in terms of food, Kirk was starting to run low. He only had half a loaf of stale bread and a single small apple remaining.

In retrospect, the food packs offered were only meant to last a day. Kirk rubbed his stomach. A part of him wondered whether he could eat a geo, but then he recalled how their flesh dissipated when the core was removed. He poked his head out of the crack and peered around. Squinting, he could see the air currents passing through the cobalt mist above and the distant layer of forest green mist down the slope. At this point, he felt like his senses could fill the surrounding space; he knew the routines of this place.

Geo-3s weren't actually common in this layer. But every few hours, a current would rise in the wind. The mist layers would roil and a half dozen geo-3s would wander up, pushed out by whatever occurred below. It was worth noting that those few times he had heard the footsteps of other Conduits, they were also heading to or from the forest green mist layer. The valuables they sought must be more common down the slope. Kirk withdrew his head. He still had another hour or two before the next wave would come.

Which would probably be the last he stayed for, before returning to the stele. Yet even beyond the boost toward Ascension and his increase in combat experience, Kirk felt like this journey was very worth it.

"It was too loud, too sudden," Kirk looked down at his hands, even now recalling how foggy it felt to wake up in that bed, amongst the injured and dying. He had struggled, the activities of other people lapping waves against him. Sure, he had learned and found a vague purpose, but it had all happened too fast. This time, on his own in the swirling mists gave him time to settle in as himself. A confidence emerged, from productive actions. The Beast Archetype growled its agreement.

Here, he had discovered his own foundation. He had found a direction in the chaos of his sudden consciousness. But here, he had learned to walk toward it.

"But first," Kirk walked deeper into the small cave, next to the water pool, and sat down. He closed his eyes. In the past two days, he had entirely relied upon his Heightened Senses. But he had another Archetype, Spark Mage, and a related Rune. Kirk closed his eyes and focused on that Rune. It had taken him a while to discover it, but after some of his meditative rests, he had stumbled across it naturally. A spinning symbol appeared in his mind.

When he focused on it, he could almost hear a voice, whispering five syllables over and over again. Frustratingly, his Heightened Senses didn't help him catch the nuances. So Kirk could only concentrate, focusing on the noises, puzzling them out. After five minutes and several repetitions, he opened his eyes.

"Et Fa Cun Meh Fa." Kirk announced. With each syllable, he could feel it, a stirring in the air. His Heightened Senses detected that at least. Energy concentrated together- But snapped and dissipated. Kirk frowned. Simultaneously, he felt a strange sense of deja vu; it seemed that old Kirk had struggled with this too. If the pronunciation wasn't perfect, the Rune would fail to manifest. Shaking his head, Kirk tried again. This story originates from a different website.

Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Try different sounds until it works. Kirk nodded.

"Met Fa Cun Meh Fa."

"Et Fa Coon Eh Fa."

"Tet Ah Coon Eh Fa." Finally, when he spoke the last series of sounds, the energies of the world spun together. A burning red ember floated in the air in front of Kirk. He felt the fascinating feeling of possessing a connection to the floating ember. He pointed- In a blaze of heat, the ember shot forward and slammed against the wall, exploding in a shower of sparks. Kirk moved over and peered at the stone. A uneven fist of the wall was scorched black. He rubbed his chin. What will that do to a geo?

Even as he said the syllables, he had felt he wasn't quite all the way there. The first and third syllables felt correct, Tet and Coon, but the rest still felt fuzzy, somehow. Still, Kirk felt a shiver of excitement. An attack he could inflict from a distance would be useful. When he popped his head and waited for the next wave of geo-3s to stumble out, he mentally practiced the syllables. Finally, the winds rose. The mists stirred. Out came the geo-3s, snapping at each other and drifting in separate directions.

To Kirk's pleasure, one headed directly in his direction. It was a large geo-3, more bulky than muscular, its body strangely bulbous. As it neared, Kirk sucked in a breath. He carefully breathed out the syllables. The energies in the air stirred- Yet he was excited, glaring on the geo. So he didn't take as much care in his pronunciation. The Rune fizzled, the energies spiraling together but becoming nothing.

Even as he felt a flash of disappointment, the geo raised its head and glared at the location of the moving energies… which of course, led it to Kirk. He grimaced as it hissed and charged forward. This one's bulky body could probably shatter the spine of an unsuspecting Conduit.

"Geo's balls," Kirk muttered, climbing out of the cave. As the geo galloped forward, he barely had time to set his stance. His eyes narrowed; the geo flailed with one of its clawed limbs. But Kirk sidestepped, aimed, and thrust with the spear. An hour later, he forced his body to hobble back toward the rift. Kirk grimaced down at a wound on his thigh. He had wrapped it in bandages from his pack, but it wasn't the sort of wound that would heal quickly.

Although Maester documentation claimed that healers would always be ready at the edge of the Rift, Kirk recalled the lonely and exhausted Healer he had witnessed by the tree. All was not as the document claimed. Wincing, Kirk limped upward. He glanced down as blood began to leak through the bandage.

"More flesh," Kirk muttered.

"Harder to kill." After an agonizing twenty minutes, during which Kirk's wounded leg began to shake, he pushed up above the indigo mist layer and looked around. The slope here was less steep, the ground less cracked, the vein trees more infrequent. Although Kirk wasn't sure where to go, his ears twitched: his Enhanced Senses caught the distant sounds of talking. Grimacing, he continued forward. After a short time, he felt a pulse from his copper band.

That pulse guided him laterally along the slope, to a tall stone construction jutting out of the ground. Compared to the surrounding grey stone, the lightless darkness of the material felt nearly visible only through its absence. Even Kirk's Beast Archetype looked at the stele with rapt attention. When the surrounding energy approached the object, it just vanished. Sucked away, likely to his home world. How can something like this exist? Kirk wondered.

A dull throb of pain in his thigh brought him back to more mundane concerns. He walked forward, feeling strangely nervous, and touched the stele. Kirk fell through a wound in existence. A horrible fear rose from the depths of Kirk, from beyond the confusion of his lost memories. The past version of him felt this wound and recalled- He stumbled, suddenly on unfamiliar ground, and his leg released a sharp dagger of pain. Groaning, he straightened.

His Heightened Senses almost hissed in displeasure, as waves of information flooded him; after so long in the rift, the sudden surge of activity was overwhelming. Especially when a shout soon rose from the nearby guards.

"Young Master Albion! Are you alright?" Kirk's head spun as several guards hurried forward. He could hear them whispering to each other.

'If he's injured again-' and 'His parents-'. Meanwhile, the surrounding Conduits, waiting to enter the rift, stared at him, their attention hot against his skin. He swayed.

"Make way, make way!" Suddenly the guards had Kirk by the arms, helping him forward. He passed dozens of people crowding closer. He felt their breath, their heat, the creaks of their leather, the gurgle of their stomachs. He could almost feel his Heightened Senses rolling back into his body and his Beast Archetype flinching; they had grown used to being able to stretch out, but here, that was torture. Everything was a blur until he felt himself plopped onto a stool. He blinked around; this area was familiar.

He was back in the healer's quarter. He sat on a stool in the middle of the palettes, surrounded by tents His gaze flicked sideways, but the palette with the still man was empty. The weeping woman was gone. For a while, Kirk stared, almost entranced, at the flattened grass in front of him. A guard fussing about the wound finally brought him back to the present.

"Master Albion, you've been gone two and a half days! By the Great Wound! I know you are- ahem. For one's first journey into the Rift, that much is reckless. Especially alone. What have you been eating? What were you drinking, after so long?"

"Alien water," Kirk coughed. The two guards looked at each other and released a nervous chuckle.

"Very funny. Anyway, we will see you treated immediately." Sure enough, soon a grim-faced man walked up to Kirk and crouched down. The man hummed to himself scratching his salt and pepper beard.

"Plenty of blood, but not too deep. Tier 0? I'll bind it together, but you'll need to rest for two days to heal fully." Kirk realized he recognized the man; it was the healer that he had seen from the wall.

"I can't go back in the rift for four days anyway."

"What are you talking about, Master Albion?" One of the guards shifted.

"You, of course, can enter the rift whenever you want. It's an honor for one of the prestigious Albion Family to be in Peakhold. Surely you can enjoy the same benefits as a Troop." Kirk just blinked at that. Meanwhile, he observed the grim-faced Healer. The man muttered several sharp syllables. Kirk's eyebrows rose. Not only was the inflection sharp, but the number of syllables was almost 30. Only after all of those were perfectly intoned did a warm glow flow down around the wound on Kirk's leg.

After the healing completed, he was given water from the guard and drank deeply. While safe, the strange pool of water beyond the rift had a strange taste. This world's water was preferable. The guards returned to their post, giving Kirk space. They reminded him of their names, but Kirk promptly forgot them. His gaze went to the other end of the wounded area, where a line of individuals waited. These people, too, had various body parts bandaged.

His senses indicated that they had all been staring at him before, but as soon he looked, they all looked away. All except a single young man, a lanky individual with long black hair, who openly glared at him.

"Are you satisfied?" Kirk turned. The Healer was looking at him with cold eyes. Kirk scratched his cheek.

"What do you mean?" The Healer just flicked his fingers and turned away.

"You've already squandered my energy. Don't also occupy one of my stools."