It looks really pretty! -- he thought.
A cool wind blew over his chilled and naked body that ached to the bone. His mouth was drier than full-on, weed induced cotton mouth, to the point that he gagged a few times.
He felt supremely uncomfortable and, with a groan that would make any grandfather proud, he forced his body to sit up. A sharp pain in his lower back, just above his tailbone, briefly made his legs go numb and he fell back down.
Let's give it a bit before I try THAT again. -- He shuddered.
His skin was tight for some reason. Suddenly worried by the familiar feeling, he looked down to see that he was absolutely caked in crusty dried blood. Though he had no clue whose blood it could be because he couldn't see a single cut in his skin.
He carefully craned his neck and head to the left and saw that he was, in fact, on a 20 meter wide green grassy granite ledge. How did he know it was a ledge? Because, just beyond the edge of the ledge a sea of clouds spread across the lands.
When he stiffly craned his neck to the right he saw an arm. A severed arm.
Adrenaline surged through his body as he realised with shocking reality that something might still be around.
His body groaned in protest but he had to make sure. He slowly, carefully, painfully, rolled onto his side. Crunched up, then used his weak skeletal arms to push himself upright.Only to see a dead cursed human. Its brain was exposed, its chest caved in, and its limbs (missing one arm) were pointing in horribly wrong directions. Small elementals swarmed its corpse like flies, consuming the escaping mana from its flesh.
Gareth had spent the last however many years being tortured, mutilated and experimented on. He had frequently seen his own guts outside of his own body and was no stranger to gore. Yet this was the first creature, besides himself, that he had ever seen this injured.
Sure, South African social media censorship was as dogshit as ever, and he’d seen more than one death; he had by no means grown up sheltered, but such gruesome injuries were still shocking.
Stab wounds and starved people were the worst that he had ever seen in person. He’d seen much worse online but it didn't prepare him in the least.
The utterly disfigured corpse made him gag. His cottonmouth worsened it, turning his throat raw and itchy, which made him gag more.
"What did I do to deserve this?" He asked into empty air once his gagging came under control. His cry was mostly melodrama. The world was as uncaring as ever, because only the wind watched as he felt sorry for himself.
His whole life had been a fuckup. Pushed from one horrible circumstance to the next. The only time he could ever recall being peaceful and happy was when he had been a child, and even then his family had struggled to make ends meet. By the age of six he had learned to steal, by ten he had learned where best to hide in dark alleys, and by sixteen...it only got worse from there.
He wanted to lay there and just bask in his self-pity, but for the first time, the world... answered. A blinking blue circle icon flashed in the bottom-left of his vision.
He heaved a sigh because he knew he would have to check it eventually, and postponing would achieve absolutely fuckin' nothin', he was just so tired. It still took him a good ten minutes before he found the willpower to focus on the blinking circle. The adrenaline from seeing the corpse long since fading.
Congratulations!
You have successfully expelled 80% of foreign demonic mana!
Warning!
Due to the [Rune of Devouring], you have forcefully absorbed hostile mana: Mana which is not in alignment with the host vessel.
Mana purged.
Congratulations!
Remnant activity from the runes of Devouring and Berserker have fully healed your wounds, but [Nutrient Deficiency] remains.
Nutrient Deficiency: Rate of natural regeneration -100%.
Congratulations!
You have obtained [Demonic infusion]
Demonic infusion: Due to the demonic mana stored within the failed runes of [Devouring] and [Berserker], your body has been slightly tempered by Demonic mana, and has gained some Resistance to demonic mana.
Gareth was floored, to say the least. It felt like his stomach had fallen down to his feet, numbing his legs and making him weak.
Up until a few weeks ago he hadn't even known mana was a thing. The Doctor and Ian just cut him up or tortured him…they might have done mana shit while he was sedated – now that he thought about it – but he’d never seen the glowing substance that the Oni had exuded.
He heaved a sigh and stared down at his naked lap, lost in his own thoughts.
The world had done so much to him.
Poverty stricken since before he could remember, he’d had to do such shit things, just to survive, but he’d never been outright evil or bad. He’d always...just done the best he could, no matter the circumstances he found himself in. Yet the world seemed set on corrupting him.
He had been backstabbed by mistress Connolly -- which he should have expected in hindsight -- and subsequently experienced only the worst of this world. He had been tortured, tormented to near-insanity, and used as a science experiment.
For years!
His hate towards humanity and people as a whole had grown to unhealthy proportions. He had fantasised about breaking free and hurting Ian and The Doctor so frequently that it’d infested his dreams.
He glanced over at the dead corpse nearby, then sighed, wondering what mayhem had led to the dead body. He certainly didn't have the strength to rip something’s arm off.
He continued reading the notices.
Notice! You have bested a Tier 5 One Broodmother!
Notice! You have bested a Tier 3 Cursed Humanoid.
I had actually managed to kill some of those things?!?!... Fucken evidently -- Gareth thought and answered himself, because this same message repeated itself nine times.
Ivor had explained how Gareth could access his stat sheet, but when he last looked it hadn't had anything other than his [Blessed by Life] Trait.
He decided to open his stat sheet and see if it had changed.
Name: Gareth Elson
Race: Human
Level: 0
Cultivation Path: Not chosen. [Please choose a path]
Traits:
- Blessed by life
- Demonic Infusion
Active effects:
- Nutrient deficiency
Trait: [Blessed by Life] - forcefully suppressed due to [Nutrient deficiency].
Blessed by life: As an extra-dimensional traveler, the Elder gods have granted you the [Blessed by Life] trait. You are physically immortal and will regenerate from all physical injuries, age, and diseases if provided with sufficient time and resources. Regeneration rate: -85% due to nutrient deficiency and malnutrition.
Nutrient Deficiency: Rate of natural regeneration -100%.
Demonic infusion: Due to the demonic mana stored within the failed runes of [Devouring] and [Berserker] your body has been tempered by Demonic mana, and has gained resistance to demonic mana.
Deciding that he’d wasted enough time on internal stuff – seeing as there was a dead body behind him – he needed to devote himself to fixing his current situation. He moved the fuck on.
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Fuck yeah! I can do this. Easy peasy. – He hyped himself up.
His body was whole and hale, even if very sore. The lines the Oni Broodmother had cut into him were now tiny white scars across his body. The fact that there were scars at all was incredibly worrying. His [Blessed by Life] trait allowed his body to regenerate back to as close to pristine as it could get: There were never any scars, Ian had tested this phenomenon thoroughly.
He stiffly got to his feet, which were luckily still booted, and looked around. Craning his head back he checked if he could see the top of the granite cliff face. No luck.
Unfortunately, his ledge was on was either too narrow to see the hole up the cliff...or he had fallen further than he thought. The rock seemed sheer, and largely crackless. Erosion carved lips every now and then, but not enough to actually help him climb. Oxidation discoloured the largely grey stone to blackin zebra-like striations.
Turning, he carefully walked to the edge of the ledge. At about four feet away from the ledge, a strong gust of wind slightly swayed him.
"Fuckin he~ctic..." he swore softly under his breath.
He hated heights. At two feet from the edge he got onto his stomach, his parts rubbing uncomfortably against the spikey grass that covered the ledge. It was better than leaning over while standing. Less risk of falling.
Below, a world of clouds and storms stretched off into the horizon. It was a truly beautiful and dreadful sight to behold. Beautiful because Gareth hadn't seen clouds like this in years, if ever. Dreadful because he would have to climb down for a few hundred meters to the next tiny ledge, before even reaching the tops of the clouds. Then, judging by the numerous flashes of lightning, the storm was fully active, which would make the climb down even more treacherous.
More grey granite made up the cliff below the ledge, but strata of silver, blue, orange and many other hues of rock discoloured it beautifully. If he hadn't been so royally screwed, he would have found it beautiful.
This place truly would have been breathtaking if he hadn't had to climb it.
Shuddering at the prospect, he carefully crawled away from the edge, and once more looked up the opposite slope.
There was nowhere to go.
"Wellllllllll fuck.”
Ivor wasn't going to come and help him; he had likely been eaten by raptors, so that was out.
He didn't have rope, climbing equipment, or the upper-body strength to climb the cliffs, so that left very little as a viable plan to get off this…shitty fricken ledge.
Option one: Use the cursed corpse to lure in a rock, that surely had to be watching these massive cliffs. If he could lure one here, and it was big enough -- I truly shudder at the mental visual of how wrong this could go -- He could maybe...jump on its back and use his body weight to force it to glide down. Obviously this plan had some flaws, no plan was unassailable, but at least it had ‘some’ chance of success.
"Aaaaggg! This is going to suck regardless of what I have to do! Come on Gareth, man the fuck up! You got this. All you need to do is catch something." He jumped up and down to hype himself up, "Woop woop! Let's do this!"
He grabbed the severed arm and dragged it nearer to the edge so as to be more visible from above. He repeated the same for the much heavier, much stinkier, and much more disgusting cursed corpse.
These creatures do shit themselves when they die by the way.
It stank to high heaven and it was only the fact that Gareth was used to the smell of old blood that he could deal.
There wasn't much cover, which was to say there was nothing he could do except to crouch against the cliff wall, and lie in wait.
He looked up to see if there were any birds around, but the awe inspiring Yggdrasil branches were his only company on this was crystal clear day. There was the occasional high altitude cloud. Gareth couldn't remember which, he'd been too enamoured with his geography classmate, Jesse Crim, to pay attention. Since his Neuroline no longer worked he couldn't even search for a diagram of clouds!
It will be a long wait then. – He shrugged and tried to console himself. Just be patient.
Option number two: The one he didn't want to do. It was the easiest in concept and execution. Literally.
He was immortal. He would theoretically regenerate from any injury. He could therefore just...jump from the edge, fall untold miles, splat harder than any person in the history of skydiving, and regenerate. It was an option.
Downsides? The falling part. It would fray his nerves, as he might clip the cliff and tumble untold kilometers with broken bones or missing limbs. The anticipation of hitting the ground would also ruin the experience.
There was also the high chance that even if he did regenerate, he would likely wake up before his body fully healed. The only reason he suspected he woke up fully healed this time was because of something the Oni had done to him. If he woke up at the bottom, and his lower body was still facing the wrong way, it would be incomprehensibly horrific to experience.
Option three: was actually in conjunction with option two. Climb as far as possible, and then fall when tired. It included the notion of trying to climb down instead of just…jumping, and that made Gareth feel better. The only downside was that it included all the downsides of option two and he would likely draw out the terror aspect.
Option four was the least likely of the lot: Wait for someone to rescue him.
-
No one was coming. Ivor was dead. Ian's people might find him, though he had no idea how they would know where he was. The only reason they’d found him last time was due to pure happenstance. They were looking in the right place, at the right time.
Or who knows, cultivator powers worked weirdly and I don't know how they tracked me. Either way, he would rather jump than have them find him.
He sat there for a while longer, his legs crossed while tearing apart a blade of grass. It was actually really peaceful with the small gusts of wind that would occasionally buffet him. He hadn't been outside in years. He hadn't felt the sun on his face. Hadn’t had simple peace and solitude, in forever.
Come to think of it; even back on Terra he hadn’t experienced a view like this outside of nature documentaries.
He took a deep breath as the sun bathed the clouds below in white, silver, and gold light. Beneath the splendor lay the churning clouds of one mothefucka of a storm.
Deciding that all was not yet lost, he decided to look around his status screen again. Unfortunately, it said as little as it had the last time, and he was once again stuck. He had read a bunch of manga in his limited free time and understood the concept of cultivation. He had also seen Ivor Hansen sitting with his legs crossed and eyes closed, small green lights tracing paths beneath his skin.
He sat down with his legs crossed, closed his eyes and tried to calm his mind. Yet, his dire situation destroyed his focus with stress, while his hunger and dehydration ate at the inside of his spine.
He kept thinking about how hard he was going to hit the ground when he had to implement the only realistic plan. He wouldn't say he had a fear of heights, but more a fear of hitting the ground hard enough to splat. The pain he knew he would experience would be agonising to the extreme.
He thought about how he would feel during the fall down, the fear and the anxiety that he would experience before everything went black. As he thought about these different situations, he gradually entered a state of awareness.
He became aware of how hungry he was, the wind tickling the hairs on his body, and how nice and warm the sun felt.
He would never say a feeling of eagerness settled in his stomach as he became aware of all the warring feelings inside his heart, but he did reach a state of acceptance. He really only had one option, if nothing came to eat the corpse. He was nevertheless not eager to jump off a cliff, and reasoned that he would wait as long as possible for something to come eat the corpse.
Thus started some of the strangest experiences Gareth had ever lived through. He waited for hours, but the sun didn't move. Sure he had noticed this while traveling with Ivor, but that guy always kept them too busy for Gareth to really pay attention.
Now he had nothing to track the passage of time with except watching the sun crawl across the sky, and the clouds shift below, the wind caressing his filthy skin.
I miss baths…and showers.
For what felt like decades Gareth sat against the cold and rough cliff face, waiting until he finally couldn't bear it anymore. If he didn't move now he would be too hungry or dehydrated to walk, and he would be stuck on this cliff for all eternity.
The thought of eating the disgusting and rotting corpse crossed his mind once or twice, but he had seen where they lived. He didn't want some strange demonic stomach-bug wriggling inside him.
He angrily, weakly, pushed his starved body up and marched to the edge of the ledge.
With only mild hesitation he made up his mind, and promptly swan dived off.
A millisecond later his adrenaline kicked in and he realised how stupid an idea that had been.
Wind rushed by at gale force speeds, tearing at his eyes. Yet even as he fell, he felt the gusts buffeting his body growing stronger and more turbulent. He was falling at terminal velocity within seconds; yet it would still take him a good thirty seconds before reaching the tops of the clouds.
He couldn't hear himself think over the roar of the wind. At 25 seconds he remembered that people in movies always spread their arms and legs out to slow their fall, but they had clearly never gone sky-diving buck-ass-nude. The way his privates flapped around became downright painful. He nevertheless spread his thin legs and arms.
It didn't help him in the slightest.
15 seconds.
He was still falling fast enough to be fatal. There was little he could do about it though.
When he passed through the tops of the clouds he felt mist condensing on his filthy body, and rivers of brown were soon streaming off of him. He’d missed showers and here the universe was, giving him his very own powerwash.
He could still vaguely see the cliff face, speeding by some thirty meters away, but he noticed something quite alarming. The wind was getting stronger, ripping at his eyelids and lips.
If a gust blew him into the side of the cliff face while he was going this speed, he would be ripped apart. Period.
5 seconds.
The wind was so strong that he was being buffeted back and forth: going nearer and further, closer to danger then into open sky.
He hit the clouds with a physical impact. It ironically knocked the wind out of him. He could barely keep his eyes open but at least his eyes weren't drying out anymore. The amount of moisture forcing its way into his face was strong enough to nearly drown him.
Small specs of grey minor wind elementals started darting about through the clouds. What started off as one or two soon bloomed into whole swarms of them, the wind currents visible by seeing how the sparks swirled around each other.
He was soaked to the bone by this point, and metaphorically freezing his balls off. The droplets inside the clouds only became bigger, the wind became stronger, and he tumbled enough to get sick.
He tried angling his body to lean away from the ciff, but the strength of the wind truly started buffeting him about.
What had started as a stinging rain evolved into a highly pressurised, omnipresent force of pelting droplets that struck his skin and jewels like paintballs. It felt as if he was on the wrong side of a water cannon.
He struggled to keep his eyes open, and had to cover his mouth to avoid inhaling droplets of water.
Then the world froze.
In a moment of pure stillness, the drops, his body, and the wind came to a halt. He didn't know how it was scientifically possible, but for a moment he hovered perfectly in the air. He quickly wiped his eyes of water and looked up just in time to see a wave of roiling grey clouds, sparks, and rain rushing towards him. He didn't even have time to scream before he was slammed into the cliff face with enough force to snap bone.
It happened so fast, and he was stunned so badly, that he couldn't react before he was yanked away from the cliff, hurled sideways along one current, only to be thrown up by a rising gust. He lost all sense of direction as he became a fly in a blender, buffeted from one gust to another. Going full ragdoll and being nothing more than a leaf in a storm, he was blown about at the whims of the wind.
The rain had been so dispersed and compressed by the violent wind, that thick sheets of fog pelted him like titanic ocean waves.
Grey sparks were everywhere, lighting up the clouds around him with grey layers of … his world ended.
It started as a small tingling across his skin that quickly turned into a burning that forced its way into his very bones. He could feel mana forcefully entering his meridians and flushing out all the other forms of energy. He felt his bones crumble and his skin float off as Air mana particles punched through his very cell walls!
In his last moments of consciousness, Gareth had only one thought, at least I’m not scared of hitting the ground anymore.