Chương 56: Three Choices

Reaching out to her own shadow, Scarlet could feel that same sense of connection, fainter than when she subsumed a new psionic signature, and less substantial than her connection with Maus, but more complete. It was her shadow; created from the interaction between light and her physical form. In the end, it was all just a reaction of energies, all just information. Why must it be tied only to her physical form? Flexing her will, she pushed. The shadow flared.

"Well now," she breathed. [Skill Available: Shadow Communion] [Yes | No] The notification immediately sobered her. Then she remembered she was being monitored. How much could the Historian sense? How much could he comprehend just from observing her? She didn't know. This was not something for her to be practising now. Not here. Besides, she was supposed to be working on her physical Stats. While this was certainly tangible progress in the long run, in the moment it was a lateral success.

It didn't move her much farther forward, but it helped her see the path. Then the timer ran out again. This time the fight took longer as the number of enemies increased, and she focused on mastering the unarmed combat techniques enough to make them a Skill, restricting herself to surface psionics, and only when her own hands and feet weren't enough. By the end of it, Scarlet was spent. The second and third waves had each added half again the number of garachnics. From four to six to nine.

At least the recovery time doubled in concert. [Wave 1: Cleared] [Proceed to Layer 2?] [Yes | No] She stared at the notification as she considered how those last two waves had gone. She'd become reasonably adept at using unarmed combat, though for the first little while she knew she had looked more like a drunkard's marionette with the way she'd jerked about, than a competent fighter. The surface psionics were much more difficult to deal with.

Like she was being forced to write out the formulas for equations she'd already memorised. She kept defaulting to the info-layer, her mind wanting to edit rather than manipulate. It was the same with the combat techniques, only this time it was her animal brain informing her that she should not be this close to danger. That something had gone terribly wrong, and she needed to back the hell up and reassess. That she belonged outside the action and should stay there. What business did she have joining the fray?

It was like she was fighting against instinct. Fighting against herself. Which was exactly what the Historian said when he appeared beside her.

"You looked like you were fighting yourself every step of the way," he grinned. Scarlet just looked at him from where she was slumped against the wall. He didn't pay it any mind as he made that all too familiar clicking sound. They stared at each other for a moment before the Historian let out an impatient huff.

"I can't take you from here until you say 'No' to the Trial Prompt."

"Ah," she replied. She had a lot of questions and no confidence he'd answer any of them, so instead she did as she was bid. [No] Then she and Maus were whisked away. <-… -> Somehow it had become a routine to check her notifications in the bath. The Historian had grumbled about time optimisation and sensitive furless creatures, but she'd refused to 'sit down for a wee chat' until she was clean, and put together once more. Did you know this story is from Royal Road?

Read the official version for free and support the author. [Skill Available: Shadow Communion] [Yes | No] Because of course she'd get Shadow Communion before any type of combat Skill. Affinity and Me had a section on Skill Affinity. It described how some people were predisposed to certain Skills. This was less pronounced than an Affinity Trait, but it made gaining System recognition much easier, making it far more likely they would gain a capital-S Skill. Just what did it say about her?

That fight had only briefly involved connecting with her shadow, yet she'd gained a Skill. She decided not to think about it. It wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't turn a shadow Skill into an unarmed combat Skill. That was good. At least she was on the right track. But she also knew her physical Stats would become increasingly difficult to raise as she progressed. Hopefully the trial difficulty scaled accordingly. Now she just had a choice to make: take the Tier 2 Skill or not.

She had the space for it, but it would take up a Skill slot. Not only that, but she needed to reserve two slots for combat Skills, just in case Small Blades and Unarmed Combat didn't merge into a single Skill. Also, she'd been able to commune with her shadow before receiving the Skill prompt, which begged the question: did she need the Shadow skill? Would accepting it be denying herself an opportunity to train her psionics?

She'd already noticed the way Skills sometimes seemed to take over, to encourage specific actions. On one hand, Skills provided clarity and meaningful direction. On the other, they could discourage exploration and organic discovery. [Yes | No] She sighed, closing the prompt before checking her Stats. Stats Strength: 10 Dexterity: 11 → 12 Vitality: 10 → 12 Perception: 15 Intelligence: 13 Willpower: 14 → 16 Mana: 10 Scarlet watched Maus doing frantic circles in the far end of the recessed pool.

Her mind, however, was fixated on that Mana Stat. She doubted it would have gone up during the first layer, but that wasn't a guarantee. She'd hated those restrictive artefacts. Artificial limiters on the only stat that had currently had potential below the Tier 1 cap. Mana: 10 / 18 Not out of 25. Not yet. She closed the interface as she climbed out of the pool, watching Maus frantically race back towards her from the far end where he'd been erratically doing laps.

The 'zoomies', if the internet were to be believed.

"Come on, buddy. Time for some guarantees," she said aloud, letting whoever was listening hear. <-… -> They were back in that same office, and once more that bizarre tentacled robot had brought her food. Today's meal appeared to be some sort of egg dish that reminded her a little of stir-fried rice, with sautéed vegetables on the side. When she saw it had mana recovery properties, this time she didn't request a change of menu. Instead, she dug in with both speed and dignity.

Watching as Maus did the same with his own serving. As she ate, she observed the other object on the table. In front of her was what appeared to be a tablet. Not something made of stone like were used in ancient writings, but instead, closer to something she'd expect to find in an electronics store. The surface was crystalline. Close in appearance to the material the tower had been made from in her original Portal World. Before she'd been whisked away to the Nexus Tower by the Historian.

Inspect told her that assessment was close. Quite underwhelmingly, it was just called a 'data slate'. Inspect didn't give her any information, about the crafter, or which Tier it was. It was most likely a generically manufactured item found so commonly in the Network that it didn't warrant a more detailed description.

"What is this for?" she asked. They were the first words she had spoken to the Historian since she'd sat down.

"We need to train your mental Stats. Though 'mental Stats' is a reductive way to refer to them," he admitted with a shrug and the Vulpian equivalent of a what can you do? expression. Her own remained entirely neutral, Meditation running in the background, her mana absorption rate actively boosted by the food. The Skill worked remarkably well to temper her emotions. However, unlike Empathy, the effects of Meditation were obvious to anybody with even a modicum of mana sensitivity.

"I also need to train my Mana Stat," she said plainly.

"And what about Maus?" She gestured toward her Familiar. He was technically a part of her, a strange grey area in what should have been a black-and-white contract. One she was not willing to see overlooked.

"Yes. The Mana Stats," he said, before dramatically reaching into his robe and pulling out laced a vial in front of her. The liquid inside was swirling silver-grey, slightly iridescent in the warm, eternal daylight pouring through the large window. She identified it. [Potion of Tempering (Mana) – Tier 1: Produced by the FelisCanis Alchemists' Union. This potion reinforces and expands the structures responsible for the regulation of mana, and accelerates development of supporting systems. Quality: Superlative.] This was the first time she'd seen a quality indicator on a consumable, though Scarlet supposed the only real contact she'd had with such items were through System Rewards. Meditation faltered, but Scarlet regained composure almost instantly. The energy coming from the bottle made her feel an instinctive pull towards it.

She probed it with her psionic, but while she could see information about the potion, she could understand nothing beyond the fact that the bottle itself was made from some type of plant-derived resin. Yet when she looked at it, something tugged at her. It was a stronger version of a feeling she'd experienced before. The one that sometimes steered her in certain directions; helped her towards a good outcome, or to avoid a bad one. A sixth sense that had never steered her wrong.

Her fingers hadn't made it halfway to the bottle before her view of the potion was blocked by two far less desirable artefacts. Her mana restraints. The silken vambraces and greaves he'd dressed her in, and that he'd taken from her before she'd headed to freshen up. The emotions she'd dismissed that morning came flooding back at the sight of them. She retracted her hand and looked at the Historian. Was he trying to provoke her? Emotion met Meditation.

She acknowledged what she was feeling, dismissed it, and returned to eating.

"This afternoon we will be working on 'mental' Stats." She could hear the quotation marks in his words.

"To that end, I have three options for you.

"Alchemy," he pointed to the potion.

"Fabrication and tailoring. Imbued of course," he said, pointing to the mana blockers.

"Or enchantment." He gestured to the slate. Her Meditation very nearly faltered.