Chương 34: Course Correction

Propping his foot against the flower, he pulled for several seconds, wiggling one of the petals back and forth, he slowly managed to break it off, almost slipping off the flower as he stumbled back, though managing to keep his balance. He was left with a flat, yellow, springy length of material about four feet long and half as wide as his torso. Nodding to himself, he thought it would actually be quite perfect for makeshift clothes, and set about plucking more.

While he did, he occasionally eyed his glasses case, the Imprint that it now was. Should he absorb it? The objective answer felt like a simple yes. He'd been told by the Underworld that he would need an Imprint like this to live, that it would eventually save his life. If his choice was to either lose his metal glasses case or die, he'd rather give up the glasses case. He knew that he'd run out of joint eventually, so that he had no problem losing, it was the case he couldn't stand to see go.

He'd been in the Underworld for maybe… three days? Possibly two, or two and a half, he wasn't sure. In that time, he'd been through a lot, and somehow, the metal case had kept its contents perfectly pristine. It'd taken a beating, but time and time again, it continued to roll with the punches, getting dented and scratched but never breaking entirely yet. Yes, it was his human sentimentality speaking, but for the longest time the only things that kept him alive were simple joys he took where he found them.

Sentimentality was a powerful motivator, he knew from experience. What would happen in three years when he tried looking for any sort of anchor, any sign of Earth, of the live he'd once lived. A memento of the life he lost, no matter how bitter it'd been, he still didn't want to forget and leave his past behind. He would want something that reminded him of his family in the future, a symbol of the grief he felt, and the glasses case fit that perfectly.

It'd been there since shortly after his family passed away, and been a trusty companion through his journey down into the depths of hell. At the same time, he knew it wouldn't last. It wasn't some indestructible thing, just a glasses case that'd been lucky enough to survive the terrible journey he'd undergone so far, but it was already looking beat up from just a couple days. Would it even survive the year? No. Plain and simple, it would not remain whole for that long.

If he absorbed it now, he would at least be able to carry a part of it within himself, and maybe see it with his mind's eye. After all, the Mushki tongue was still defined and visible within him; it wasn't an unreasonable assumption that the same would happen to his case. But, still, he hesitated. The metal container was still with him, and looking at it, he felt a deep sense of reassurance. A tether to his past. It wasn't just about drugs- he didn't care all that much about them any more.

Alcohol, weed, cigarettes, the more he found himself adjusting to the Underworld and feeling that sense of accomplishment for doing something, the less he felt himself crave them (Outside of particularly stressful moments, of course). He stopped plucking the petals, and sighed. Picking the case up and holding it in front of him. Running his hands along the cool metal; lightweight and soft, he knew it was likely made from aluminum, a metal not exactly known for its durability.

He reminisced about the time he spent in his room, opening it with one hand then snapping it shut dramatically, over and over again; he thought about resting his hand on it in his pocket as he secretly carted a few drugs into school multiple times, the comforting coolness under his grip; of the time he'd once lost his hammer and used it to nail a poster to his wall. He opened it again, seeing the kit inside. Absorbing it now would grant him all the drugs he desired, but is that what he wanted?

No, it was a coping mechanism, and he would regret it if he made a kneejerk reaction to destroy his glasses case, just because he wanted some weed. Snapping it shut dramatically once more, as he loved to do, he came to a decision. It deserved better. He couldn't say he'd keep it forever, or that he would never absorb the Imprint, but if he was going to, it would happen in the heat of the moment or some dangerous situation where he desperately needed the power boost, like with Windwhipped Seedblossom.

It would be a meaningful decision, a symbolic gesture. The death of his case would not go out quietly, the moment he did so forgotten after a night's rest. It would be explosive, at a time when it would save his life. Was he playing with fire, risking the destruction of his Imprint and thus ensuring his death? Yea, he was. But he'd already said time and time again that survival wasn't the point, living was.

This was his life, and if he wanted to risk it because of a dumb sentimentality over his last Earthly possession, he absolutely would. In response to his resolve, he felt a significant spark of energy form within him and remain, giving him hope that he might be able to utilize some magic at a moment's notice.

The burden of his decision taken off his mind, he got to work with the petals to make a covering of some kind, starting with tying two of them together at the base; left with an extended length of yellow material, he checked it thoroughly to be sure there was nothing inside or out, no bugs of any kind, then began to wrap between his legs and around his hips, going between the two at an angle in places. By the end, it looked like he was wearing an oddly thick set of yellow briefs.

Tucking the end of the material into the waistline, he let it go, and was satisfied when it stayed on. Everything past that was just as makeshift, Aaron prioritizing decency and functionality over fashion. From his knees to his thighs, two different lengths of petal were wrapped around both legs (One each) until they met just below the hip, then he took a completely different length, forming a hoop around the top of his legs, the entire three-part piece of clothing giving the illusion of skin-tight pants.

As he got to work on his shirt, he paused while looking at his stomach He'd always been fairly thin, never a big fan of eating, nor eating anything healthy when he did, but he'd also never had any definition to his body; atrophied muscles did that. He wasn't skeletal, just… soft. Weak. Now, his body was clearly a bit filled out, giving him an ever-so-slight chubby look, and a healthy pink tint beneath the skin.

Seeing such a stark contrast between his current and past self, he knew that not only had he been out for a while, but the dandelions had taken better care of him in that time than he tended to take of himself. Hopping in place a bit and testing his muscles, he finally took note of the smoothness in his gestures. Since arriving in the Underworld, he'd been forced to exercise, and found an odd lag to his movements; his muscles simply couldn't keep up, and he was straining them to try.

Throwing a few punches out as he shadowboxed with the air, he noticed that the lag was significantly reduced, his body no longer fighting against him. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Scratching his head a bit, he thought about what might cause this- yes, his malnutrition was definitely gone now, but that couldn't be it. He'd sat still for some length of time, and wasn't even sore. If he'd been in a coma, shouldn't his muscles have atrophied a bit?

Shouldn't it be hard to move, and if they'd fed him without him moving, shouldn't he be chubby? Yet, as he squeezed his bicep, not only did he feel a healthy layer of fat, but some solid muscle beneath it. He wasn't ripped or anything of the sort, but he was in good shape. Mystery solved, he continued to wrap his torso up, contemplating on how he might be able to check how long it'd been since the angel tried taking him.

He wanted to ask Onward Evermore, but felt that it wouldn't know either even after it woke up because it, too, had been out of commission through the entire thing. He went to his Secondaries instead, trying to see if any of them were broken and, if not, whether they could tell him. Unfortunately, without the ability to cut off his physical senses, he found himself frustrated that he couldn't parse more than the surface-level about them; if he wanted more details, he'd have to use Onward Evermore as a medium.

Again meeting a brick wall, he gave up on trying to ask anyone directly how long it'd been since the angel battle, instead worrying about whether his abilities would work at all or if they were broken like Onward Evermore. Bracing for potential pain he summoned forth a Windwhipped Seedblossom. It responded, the seed forming on his skin, but felt strained and hungry. It was generating enough energy to manifest the seed at the very least without his assistance, but going further would put some pressure on it.

Shaking his head, he simply dismissed the whip.

'At least it's not fully broken, but it's clear that all my abilities are a bit starved and struggling. What could I do to help, though? I have some energy, but definitely not enough for all three. Where could I get more energy?' Looking up at the massive ball of dandelions, he thought about Mycelaric Expanse, and its ability to draw from other things he'd…

'Other things I've planted! Not only did I make those huge dandelions that could give me some energy, I also planted some things back in Floor 0. Could I still speak with those plants, and thus, maybe figure out how long it's been?' He instantly tried looking through the visions, but received a weak rejection that told him Mycelaric Expanse was in dire straits as well, and this ability couldn't make its own energy"Why don't you draw on that huge ball of dandelions? They surely produce a ton of excess power!"

he insisted, but received no response. He decided Mycelaric Expanse would be the first thing to be repaired; if he could get it running with a few dandelions, he could absolutely use that power to fix everything else. He fed his just-earned spark of energy into Mycelaric Expanse, getting a sense of relieved tension as he did so. It wasn't enough to sate or heal his ability, but gave it some of the tools to begin healing. Or, as Aaron didn't know, finish up the last few steps of healing.

So he was left in a tough spot. Now clothed in a skin-tight yellow T-shirt and shorts, he found himself short on energy, food and shelter.

'To find any of it, though, I need to understand the world more. Floor 0 had some unique properties, such as underglass that could be warped or random drop spots where things appeared from the surface. Floor 1 is sure to have similar things.' The most obvious being the strange ground, which he kneeled down on, studying now. Tiny, blurry green stalks tickled his feet.

Running his hand over them, he saw how they moved around his fingers like gas, receiving a strange tingle over his skin that made him think of grass, but wasn't quite right. It reminded him of the twisted nosferian's lair, and how there was weird shadow grass everywhere that kind of looked like it, but not really. Tapping into his Sensitivity, he felt his awareness expand partially, but became dizzy from the feedback he received.

He'd thought that Floor 0 was overwhelming in its history, but Floor 1 was completely riddled with a blinding level of history. He'd go as far as to say that the "Searching" aspect of Sensitivity was effectively useless on Floor 1. At the same time, he didn't need to see what he was doing to manipulate it, so, with a simple exertion, he pushed his will against the floor in a way that would've made underglass ripple. Immediately, he felt it was significantly harder to influence anything here than it was on Floor 0.

'At least Sensitivity still works? That's familiar.' The thought was quickly disproven when, rather than ripple out, the green fuzz on the ground "Flared up," growing in size and bending around his hand… where he promptly started to sink down.. He quickly tore it free, leaping up and taking a step back with a gasp, but luckily, he wasn't forcibly yanked into the ground. He could only shake his head,'What the hell?

I definitely shouldn't try that again until I understand what's happening; I'll really need to find a group of sapients… one that hasn't seen me fall from the sky.' His experiment with Sensitivity made him significantly more weary of the glass panes around him. Even from a distance, many of them made no sense to his vision; in some of them, he saw his face reflected back at him, but a notably different environment surrounding him.

In others, there was no reflection, just a simple empty window into somewhere else, but most uncomfortable were the places that reflected his current location, yet he was not there. The spatial anomaly aspect of it didn't even register as strange at this point. The Underworld wanted to make rooms or dimensions linked to him with non-euclidean geometry? Yea, sure, why not. But, if the floor would eat him when prompted, who was to say that his evil reflection wouldn't reach out to grab him.

Sighing, he turned his gaze back to the huge shadow cast by his dandelions; directly below the huge structure, huge gouges had been cleared away by those dandelions that'd hit the ground first and not only broke, but pushed away all the dust of the glass.

'More glass, is it always going to be glass in the Underworld? Glass and silver, those are the two materials that apparently make up like 90% of the Underworld and System,' he thought, exaggerating a bit on the Silver but it was strange he'd run into it three times: the silver throne, silver nosferian, and silver Malric.

With the little bit of information he had about Floor 1, he decided that waiting at or under his dandelions would be safest; not only did it doubtlessly scare all the animals away, but he thought the sapients might eventually come back to investigate… he hoped. If a small group of them went back and reported that a human had dropped from the sky, they'd probably get curious.

Once the dandelion mass proved to be harmless, they'd have less fear and maybe try to ask for information from him, where he could promptly explain the situation, and be guided through the forest of sharp glass unmolested, to whatever settlement they might have. But that still left him wanting for food and water, though even that might be a solvable problem; his dandelions had fed him while he was unconscious, so if he could link with them again, they might be willing to share once more.

Even if he couldn't figure out a way to link roots with them again though, he'd heard of dandelion tea before- meaning that dandelion was actually edible, and he seriously doubted something this large would really care if he trimmed a bit off to eat. As for water? Maybe he'd get what he needed from the juices in the live plant…

'God, I hope they come back soon.' Then, sighing, he immediately followed that thought up with'But not before I fix my Primaries. I don't want to meet with a potentially hostile people before I can hold my own with magic.' For that, he had a few things in mind, starting with another nearby dandelion. * Nuzzling himself between the overlapping petals as deeply as he could go, he felt weirdly secure.

Last time, mind abuzz and in a new land, he hadn't properly appreciated the situation he found himself in, but he couldn't let himself forget about the good parts of being in the Underworld too. Yes, he'd seen many horrific sights, but wondrous things existed here as well, and this was certainly one. A giant flowers he could hide in as if he were some kind of pixie? That was cool. And, inside it now, comfortable too.

The spongy material bent around him, contorting about his shape; the light spilling over from the sky outside was dimmed here, leaving only a gentle golden glow. Most of all was the sound. Outside, only a deathly silence met his ears and a field of creepy mirrors. Here, that isolating feeling was transformed into one of peace. The quiet rasp of his breath in his ears and body heat warming the small pocket he found himself in, it was a meditative and unique experience.

Outside, the temperature was just below comfortable, with a very slight chill to the air, but the dandelion approached something he might call lukewarm, maybe just a bit below his body heat. Perfect for Sensitivity. With sound, sight, and touch mostly silenced, he hoped that his mind could expand in another direction. So, closing his eyes, he quizzed the space within him, looking for Onward Evermore.

It took effort, the normally obvious and blazing wellspring of power within him much reduced, but he found himself open to it nonetheless. As he did, though, he found that his Sensitivity did something he hadn't felt in a while from his stats- it didn't meet a wall, but started to bloom a bit more, expanding past what he previously could, expressing details that he once would've missed. {Sensitivity: 1. 11} -> {Sensitivity: 2. 11}