Chapter 6 - Motherflippin' Chores
[Role requirement,] Echo warns. [Sanity Level: 97%]
Maybe I can ignore it. I mean, it's just an obnoxious, constant pressure in my head. An itch that's getting worse and worse the more I don't scratch it. A mental white noise that's progressively hissing out all other thoughts.
[Role requirement. Sanity Level: 96%]
But that doesn't mean I have to, right? I still have free will. I'm still my own man!
Well, not technically speaking, but…
[Role requirement. Sanity Level: 95%]
I'm sure that sanity level stat has absolutely no ominous implications at all.
[Role requirement. Sanity Level: 94%]
I wish I had teeth to grit. Fingers to stuff in ears. Eyes to screw shut. But there's nothing I can do to stop it. It's like a mental tinnitus, a ringing that gets higher and higher and higher and—
[Role requirement. Sanity Level: 93%]
FUCK okay!
I'll go wash a dish or something. Happy?!
The mental pressure immediately recedes, my "Sanity level" holding at a steady 93%, and I breathe a metaphorical sigh of relief. That was awful, and I never want to experience it again. But that means I'll have to actually follow through with Trenevalt's order. Indignation washes over me. Even though there's no one to actually witness this defeat, and the wizard himself seems blissfully unaware of what he's done, it still stabs me right in my pride.
The static nibbles at the edge of my mind as I hesitate.
Alright, alright, I sigh. I'm going. The question is, how?
Now that I'm back up on the stand, I know it'll knock another 2 HP out of me if I decide to fall onto the table (not to mention how I'll even get down from the table). Last I checked, that'd put my total hit points at a big old goose egg. And using my mana isn't an option, either, since it's already run out.
At least I have the passive regeneration. But I can't afford to wait hours for my health and mana to get back up to their max—Hell, I can't even afford to wait ten minutes for them to go up one point. This "Role requirement" doesn't seem to understand patience.
But wait a sec, I say. If my health regenerates six points an hour, then shouldn't I have healed back to full health last night?
[Negative,] Echo replies. [When Attunement is in effect, health and mana regeneration is paused.]
And it took 8 hours to do all those attunements. Damn, quite the trade-off.
[Sanity Level: 92%]
A trade-off I will have to consider at a later date.
How about my inventory? I ask. That doesn't take mana to use, right?
[Affirmative,] Echo says. [Retrieve items from inventory?]
I don't see any other options at my disposal. I call my only belongings, four hunks of glass, back into existence. They blink into reality before me. One is smooth and pointed, while the other three are still jagged shards. I guess that'll have to be enough.
I lean three pieces of glass against my stand in a sort of makeshift ramp, and use the fourth to start gently nudging myself off the stand. This should keep me from taking any fall damage, but there's just as great of a risk of the ramp accelerating me off the table before I have a chance to stop. Gently now… Careful…
I tip over the stand's rim and slip down the ramp. As I'd feared, I spin out of control, colors whipping past me faster than I can make out.
But I can still feel the shards, like anchors in reality, giving me some perspective of direction and motion and even speed. Using the shards to ground myself, I resist the direction of my roll, tensing every atom of my… glass… and finally slow to a stop.
Phew. One hurdle down, who knows how many more to go.
I call the shards over to me just as Echo begins to warn they're nearly out of range, and they huddle around me like tiny glass dogs, ready to leap into action. Awww. They're kinda cute.
If I don't think too hard about the surreal and existentially horrific circumstances I currently find myself in.
Maybe I can sit on them like some kind of hovercraft. They float, right? And I'm not that much bigger than them. Worth a shot.
I gather the glass around my base, and try to lift the pieces into the air. And they do lift up—barely—but just as quickly come to a halt, unable to levitate me with them. Seriously? I'm like a three-inch tall hollow orb of glass, I can't be that heavy.
Okay, new plan. I roll as close as I dare to the edge of the table and look down; just a sheer drop to the wooden floor below. Making a quick lap around the table, I find this is the case in every direction. There's a chair on one end which would cut the drop in half, but that's still more than enough fall damage to claim my last two hit points. But without any messes to actually tidy up on the table itself, I don't have much of a choice.
[Sanity Level: 91%]
The static digs its claws deeper and deeper into my mind with every passing moment. God. What happens when that counter hits 0%? Will it eventually drive me mad? Or will I desperately fling myself off the edge before it gets that bad?
Come on, come on, think!
The glass isn't strong enough to levitate me. But could they be strong enough to hold my weight? I already hate the idea, but I don't have any others.
I arrange the four pieces of glass around me once more, positioned like deflated petals of a flower. Slowly, carefully, I push the pieces of glass up underneath me, maneuvering them from being flat on the desk to pointing upright like a set of stilts. If I had a stomach, it would have dropped through the floor, because soon I'm balancing on four tenuous slivers of glass that could give out—or drop me—at a moment's notice.
I decide I'm not going to think about that.
Quivering, I lean back, pick up one of the front shards, and edge it forward. I lurch, dropping the fraction-of-an-inch gap to where the shard is waiting, but it catches me. Leaning forward, I pick up one of the back shards to shuffle up closer behind me. Then I take another step. And another.
Oh my god. I'm walking! Like a person!
A four-legged glass-bottle person!
It's amazing. It's freedom! I can finally go where I choose, and I don't have to do it while spinning nauseatingly end-over-end, unable to see where I'm going.
I miss a step, my gut lurches, and I wobble precariously. Swinging a glass leg around, I catch myself. Stabilize. Box away the realization I nearly just died. Again. (Again again.) Keep walking.
Maybe I'll just… slow it down a little from now on.
I hate what I'll have to do next, but seeing as I've made it this far, I can't stop now.
Nervously humming a Queen song to myself, I edge up to the lip of the desk. No fancy curves or indents, the leg runs straight down to the floor—which will probably save my life.
I remove one of my four legs and stab it into the side of the desk. It feels secure. Or I guess, as secure as a tiny shard of glass can possibly feel. I lower myself back to the surface of the desk, then stab another piece of glass into the side of the table. And the third.
The three shards of glass extend from the wood like a cluster of porcupine quills—they'll be the only thing that stops me from dropping straight down to the floor. I hover the fourth leg in the open air, at the end of the three, like some sort of morbid crossbar on a death rollercoaster. Taking in a mental breath, I roll into the arms of my glass net.
The shards tinkle faintly, quivering under my weight. But they hold. Oh, thank god, they hold. Step 1 complete. I'd sure love to not die in step 2.
I remove one of the three glass legs, so just two of them are holding my weight, then lower it half an inch down the table leg and stab it back into the wood. Once I feel it's secure, I repeat the process, removing one of the higher shards so I drop the half-inch in a gut-wrenching lurch to the lower two. I move the highest shard lower than the others, and brace myself for the next lurch. Then I do it again. And again.
It would be an exaggeration to say I'm inching my way down the table. The tortoise and the hare would be equally embarrassed. Before I even reach the halfway point, the very hungry caterpillar would have already finished gorging itself and spun into a cocoon.
Chrysalis?
Which one's for butterflies?
I don't know how much time it actually takes to reach the floor, but it feels like hours. I don't seem to have stamina, so I'm not physicallyexhausted, but man would I love to be able to turn my brain off for a while. This all takes way too much concentration, and that damn "Role requirement" just won't stop pestering me. 90% sanity, by the way.
But I make it. On the floor. Ready to do some motherfucking chores.
The question is, where to start?
If I were back in my apartment, I could wash dishes, or sweep the floor (that's a lie, I never sweep the floor), or put some clothes away. But somehow, all these things seem slightly out of reach for what amounts to a tiny glass crab.
So what is within my capabilities?
The ground thumps, rattling my glass, and I teeter out of the way just in time for Trenevalt to walk past. He doesn't look down as he hobbles toward the front door. No, wait! Maybe if he sees me, he'll realize he unintentionally gave me orders and put an end to this madness.
Or maybe he'd have me wash his socks.
Or maybe he'd realize he'd botched his spell and decide I'm destined for the scrap heap.
Before I can decide, the door thuds closed, and Trenevalt is gone.
[Sanity Level: 89%] Echo warns.
No time for pondering. The stupid mind fog needs action.
I start walking, just to abate the encroaching mental static. And if I'm allowed to say so, I'm starting to get pretty damn good at this. There's a sort of rhythm involved, one foot at a time. And once I have more mana, I'll get these shards all shaped the same so I don't feel like a drunk pirate on mismatched peglegs.
Things sure look different at ground level. The ceiling is so far away, and all the furniture seems inverted, only giving me a peek of its underbelly instead of what might be on its surface.
And the floor. My god, it's filthy.
Dirt shoved in the cracks between floorboards; sticky black gunk of unknown origin squished into the grain; dust bunnies everywhere, but especially under the desk and bookshelves.
Aha. An idea.
I might not be able to wash any clothes or sort books by the author's ego, but dusty floors are something I can do something about.
I take a quick (relatively speaking) lap around the house, cataloging the state of each room. Trenevalt's Command is technically just to clean the main room, but since the study is more of a nook than its own space, the kitchen and living room both fall in the same open-concept layout. I hear those are all the rage these days.
The dust bunnies are bad in the kitchen, tucked beneath the lip of the cabinets and drawers, and even worse underneath the plush chairs and coffee table in the living room. But it's here I find what I'm looking for. A stray feather has been swept underneath the chair, untouched for possible decades, judging by the other filth that's migrated beneath the furniture.
Either Trenevalt's last homunculus was really bad at its job, or it was never tasked with optimizing his feng shui.
I reluctantly roll off my makeshift legs (ew, oh god, I'm going to get smeared with Trenevalt's old skin dust) and then use my shards to grab the feather.
Well, try to grab the feather is more accurate. It's like using chopsticks with the wrong hand. My one small consolation is that no one is here to witness this embarrassment.
"Kanin!" Noli appears like a magic trick, skittering over to my side. "You made it off the table! Amazing! And you have more of those glass things—that's great too, I think!"
Oh please, just walk away. Walk away and let's pretend this never happened.
I finally manage to clamp the base of the feather between two pieces of glass. Hah! Success.
"What are you up to?" Noli asks. "Is this some sort of camouflage?"
I wonder how long I can sit here not doing anything before the "Role requirement" starts to eat away at my mind. Surely, that's preferable to the blow to my ego that will result from Noli watching me dust this wizard's floor.
I hate this so much.
"Or is it for a spell?" Noli covers her nonexistent mouth with two tentacles in some ridiculous impersonation of a shocked gasp. "You are a wizard! Or maybe a warlock. Or maybe a sorcerer. Or maybe a mage. Or maybe…"
She's almost worse than the mind static. I can't take it any longer. I roll out from under the chair (ew! Ew ew ew!) and sweep the feather after me. Immediately I feel the itching pressure on my sanity lessen, and relief washes over me.
[Sanity Level: 93%]
Noli, unfortunately, follows after. "So what's the plan? Is this a spell to cause some kind of distraction? Then we make a break for it?"
God, this all would be so much more tolerable if she wasn't watching. I angrily brush the feather from side to side. This however only stirs up the dust bunnies, rather than consolidating them into one pile. Ugh. This is why I got a Roomba.
Noli watches with apparent confusion. "That's not like any spell I've ever seen." I swirl the feather in a circle in an attempt to corral the dust. "Um. Do you need help drawing a spell circle? Are you trying to form a pyre? No?"
I roll a little way down the length of the chair and repeat the process, forming a pint-sized pile of dust and hair that I desperately try not to think too hard about.
"Wait…" Noli follows, examining each pile I leave behind. "Are you… dusting?"
Bingo. Now if she could just step out of the way of that hairball…
"Oh no!" Noli signs, horrified. "Did he put a spell on you? Are you cursed?"
I mean, I don't know if that's technically the case, but it sure feels like it. I pause to tap out a "Yes."
"Oh, Kanin, I'm so sorry," she laments. "I never should have left you alone! Now you're stuck cleaning his house for eternity—"
I sure hope not.
"—and I haven't been the slightest help at all!" Her signs switch from dramatic and sad to choppy and fierce. "Don't worry. I'll figure out how to get you out of here. And if I can't, then I'll avenge you!"
Okay, now hold up. Let's rewind back to the "Getting me out of here" part before we jump right to "Vengeance."
"Should I go try to find Trenevalt?" she wonders. Before I can tap out a hasty "No," she's shaking her head. "No, he'd only try to capture me. Maybe I can help you clean up instead. Then we can get it done faster, so you can take a break!"
Well, I certainly won't object to that. Noli hurries off to fulfill whatever idea her hyperactive whims have supplied her with. That's fine with me; easier to sweep the dust up without her scurrying around, and bonus: now I might not die from mortification.
Cleaning, thrilling though it may be, leaves me a lot of time to myself to think. If Noli is right, and this is some sort of spell or curse, the question becomes: How to break it? Trenevalt should be able to, once he knows what's going on. I mean, he would want to break our spells, right? Surely, once he understands what happened, he'd want to help us?
The uncertainty disturbs me. And maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. Either way, I need to master this glass magic and figure out a way to communicate with him, first.
Or Noli can. She can probably write. She seems to be able to understand Trenevalt, so they probably speak the same language. We'll still need to get that ink open, but once it is, she could write him a note.
If only I could communicate this idea to her. I mean, she should be able to figure it out on her own, right? I look for Noli, and find her tugging at the corner of a curtain. I pause, baffled, as I wait to see what she has planned. Yanking a little harder, the corner rips. Noli jumps back. Hesitates. Then runs away.
Aren't elves supposed to be elegant and smart or something?
I go back to sweeping.
Echo, I ask. How long has it been? What are my health and magic at now?
[Sanity Level: 100%]
[HP: 4/10.]
[Bonus HP: 8]
[Mana: 2/10.]
Hello. Bonus HP? What's that?
[Bonus Hit Points,] Echo recites, [represent impermanent additions to the caster's total health. These may come in the form of spell enhancements, body augmentation, or Attunements.]
Sweet. So if I keep adding more attunements, that means I'm less likely to die? How come this didn't show up the last time I did a Check? I ask.
[The Attuned glass was stored in the caster's inventory,] Echo says. [If the source of Bonus HP is destroyed or out of the caster's range, the Bonus HP will be reduced accordingly.]
That's fair, I guess. I can't hoard Attuned glass in my inventory to act like some kind of discount horcrux. Unfortunately, it also seems like it doesn't stop my main body from taking damage, but at least I could maybe use it to cushion any future blows.
I turn my attention back on my mana. I need to start planning out how I'm going to spend it in advance. Sculpting is pretty quick, but Attunement costs me almost an hour for each mana point I use. Which means no matter how fast my stats recover, it will still take around ten hours if I use all my mana to Attune more glass at once.
Or maybe I'm not thinking big enough. Maybe I could accomplish a lot more with a lot less if I wasn't just working with tiny shards of glass in my arsenal.
Echo, can I Attune these floorboards? I ask. Or the whole house for that matter. Like a knock-off Baba Yaga.
[Negative,] Echo says. Ah well, I had sort of expected it would be too big. But she continues, [Affinity needed for attunement.]
Affinity? I repeat. You mean only certain things will work?
[Affirmative,] Echo says. [Your current affinities include: Glass, void.]
There's that void thing again. What does void mean? I ask.
[A subfield of null arcanum,] Echo says.
Obviously. And what is null arcanum?
[The essence of Between.]
I can Attune with that? I ask, skeptical. With… the metaphysical concept of the moment between time and place between space?
[Affirmative,] Echo says, as if this is a perfectly normal thing to have an affinity for.
I can't even wrap my mind around what the implications of attuning the physical manifestation of "An instant" would even entail. But I guess there's only one way to find out.
Alright Echo. Let's Attune some void.
[No target selected,] Echo replies.
Oh. You mean I have to be touching it in order to Attune it?
[Affirmative.]
Well that's ridiculous. How the heck do you expect me to touch a concept?!
Echo remains silent.
Well. I guess that's off the table for now, then.
Glass was the other affinity you mentioned, I say, pivoting to the far more concrete and familiar option.
[Affirmative.]
Is there any more around here I could pick up for later Attunement? I ask.
[Unknown,] Echo says. [Skill for locating objects with your affinity not obtained.]
Well can I just… obtain that? I ask.
[Negative,] Echo says.
Of course not. Thanks for all your super helpful suggestions.
So this means I'll need to find those pieces of glass Trenevalt threw away if I want to Attune anything else. That, or there's always that glass body still sitting back in the corner of his study.
Naw. Nope. Not touching that with a ten-foot pole.
Sculpting, then, I finally decide. I should have enough mana now to at least Sculpt one of these legs. And since it won't knock me out, like Attunement, I can keep up the dusting while I'm at it.
I carefully maneuver one of the glass shards away from my rustic feather duster, still using the other three pieces of glass to continue sweeping. The shard tinks against my side. [Target acquired,] Echo reports as I activate a Sculpt.
Splitting my attention between the glass shard I'm Sculpting and the feather I'm still holding is a bit like patting my head while rubbing my belly, but I manage it with only a little fumbling. If I had to throw rolling into the mix I'm sure I'd break something, but luckily there's plenty of dust to go around, so I don't have to move at all in the two minutes it takes to smooth out my tiny glass appendage. Soon, I have two identical smooth and Sculpted legs to work with.
[Sculpt level up!] Echo says. [Sculpt level 2: Mana cost is reduced by 10% and spell duration is increased by 10%.]
Nice! But again, not really much of a discount when each of these Sculpts is only taking 2 mana to start with. Not to mention, I'll need to wait another 40 minutes to save up the mana for Sculpting these last two legs, if I'm not wrong. Fortunately (or unfortunately?) at the rate I'm inching my way through this living room, that won't be an issue.
As the morning drags on, I dust and finish Sculpting the last of my legs, while Noli skitters around picking up pieces of litter too big for me to move. Along the way, Echo bequeaths me a "Cleaning Skill," which, as far as I can tell, does nothing, and is entirely useless. Even so, we've made shockingly decent progress. There's a pile of dust forming in the middle of the room that I'll have to figure out what to do with later, but in the meantime, the floor is looking decades younger.
A wooden thumping of footsteps alerts us to Trenevalt's return only seconds before he steps back into the house. Noli dives under a nearby chair. I hastily look around, but there's no time to get back up to my stand.
Echo, put the glass back in my inventory, I hurriedly order. The shards vanish, leaving the feather to drift silently to the floor, just as Trenevalt steps inside. The wizard pauses in the doorframe, a basket of mushrooms in hand. And I'm just sitting there out in the middle of the room, like a kid caught with its finger up its nose.
Chapter 7 - A Lesson in Linguistics
Trenevalt notices the pile of dust first, frowning as he squints down at the mound of lint and trash. I stay perfectly still—this must be what deer feel like when cars are barreling toward them—as if he somehow won't notice his magical glass flask has teleported rooms.
"My, my," Trenevalt mutters, rubbing his head. "What is this? Did I…"
Light must have caught in my glass, as his eyes snap abruptly to me. I start to roll away, futile though it may be. The floorboards shake as Trenevalt follows, and in the next moment something warm closes around me, my rolling comes to an abrupt halt, and I'm dizzyingly swept up into the air.
"Stars above," the wizard mumbles. "What are you doing here? How did you get down? Why, it's a miracle you didn't shatter falling off that desk."
You're telling me.
Trenevalt tuts to himself. "And this mess you've created." Hey! "Seems like I need to put you in a more secure…" He trails off, his gaze sweeping around the room. It's not spotless, but all the corners are a little less fuzzy and gray, and all the little bits of flotsam that time collects were now gathered in one place.
"Were you cleaning?" he asks. His features soften. "Already! Why, I had no idea you were so eager."
Yeah, that's totally it.
"I do appreciate the enthusiasm—and assistance." He steps around my trash pile, carrying me back over to his desk and my awaiting stand. "However, that's more than enough cleaning for today."
[Command paused,] Echo says. [Sanity Level: 100%]
Tension goes out of me as the Role Command retracts its prickly claws from my mind. Whew. Free from that order, at least.
"It's dangerous to be exerting yourself in this form," Trenevalt continues. "There will be plenty of time for that in a more suitable body." He places me carefully back in my stand and sinks into the chair next to me with a wince. "Can't come soon enough, I'll say. Getting too old for this. Too forgetful." He lifts a beaded bracelet to show me; two of the glass beads are clear, while the rest glow with a faint moonstone light. "Why, I wouldn't even remember to renew your spell without this to remind me how long it's been. Learned that lesson the hard way." He glances back at the hollow homunculus shell.
Um. Excuse me?
Echo, what the fuck is that bracelet for?
[Check,] Echo says. [A bracelet imbued with a simple charm by the wizard Trenevalt. It is designed to indicate the time remaining in a spell of his design.]
A spell? I repeat. Which spell? What does it do?
[Core Bond,] Echo says. [A spell which secures a target energy source to a vessel of the caster's choosing.]
Echo's not making it easy for me to follow, but the gist I do understand is sending nervous prickles across my mind.
And I'm the target? I ask.
[The charm is targeting two separate entities, one of which is you.]
The other is probably Noli. So we're being kept in these bodies by one of Trenevalt's spells. I feel a brief spark of hope. That means we can break the spell. Or at least stop him from renewing it. If the spell ends, it would send us both back to our own bodies, right? I ask Echo.
[If the energy which is sustaining the Core Bond spell were to expire, the energy stored in both vessels would return to the planar dimension from which they were summoned.]
And by planar dimension, you don't mean Earth, do you? I'm not optimistic, but one can hope, anyway.
[Between,] Echo says, dashing that briefly held dream to pieces.
If the spell expires, we'll end up Between again.
But maybe that's okay. Without whichever spell Trenevalt cast that got us stuck Between in the first place, we should pass right through it, right? Noli would snap back to her body. And I….
I'd move on to the afterlife.
And that's assuming Noli and I could even complete our journey Between without immediately getting swallowed up by that creature in the dark. I can almost feel it waiting there for us to return.
My hope sinks back into dread as dark as the Between.
I don't like any of this. There has to be some other outcome I'm not seeing. Something else we could do. Although, that spell limit will be the least of my worries if I don't figure out how to stop Trenevalt from binding me to that homunculus shell, first. As if one existential threat wasn't bad enough.
Trenevalt sighs, rubbing at his knuckles, and his sleeves fall over the charmed bracelet, obscuring it once more. Shit, I should have paid more attention to how many of those beads were glowing.
"Well, you'll soon help keep me straight, won't you?" Trenevalt says, smiling sadly.
Damn. I don't want to, but I kinda feel bad for the guy. I'm still pissed he summoned me here against my will. I'm still humiliated at being forced to carry out his chores, and the frustration stings even worse knowing he has no idea that he's done any of that. But it's hard to hate someone you pity. Living your last few years in isolation while your body falls apart and you slowly lose your mind is not a fate I'd wish on many.
I guess feeling betrayed by your own body is something the two of us have in common.
After a time the wizard's gaze grows distant, and I wonder if he remembers his conversation (such that it was) with me at all. His gaze alights on the basket of mushrooms he'd left in the living room when he'd found me, and with a creaking grunt, he pushes himself to his feet and busies himself with the bushel of fungus in the kitchen.
While he's gone, I'm left to my own devices, which I wish I could say is rewarding.
Can't speak. Can't eat. And at this point I'm pretty sure I can't sleep, save for the comatose-like state Attunement provides me. I seriously miss my smartphone and computer. I'd do unspeakable things for a streaming service.
And god, I miss feeling like I'm accomplishing anything. I miss acting. I spent years honing my skills and body for that one purpose—and I was damn good at it! The only thing I was ever really good at. And now, no one will ever get to see my show. They'll never see me.
Somehow, that makes me feel even more alone.
I spend my time watching Trenevalt shuffle about his depressingly mundane day. I count motes of dust as they drift past the window. Check, I tell Echo, bored to metaphorical tears.
[Name: Kanin]
[Species: N/A]
[Class: None]
[Level: 1]
[HP: 10/10]
[Mana: 10/10]
[Void: 24%]
[Role: Homunculus]
Finally! All healed up. I guess if nothing else, I can use my HP and Mana as a way to gauge the passage of time. Though I see my Bonus HP stat is gone again, now that I don't have any of my Attuned glass out. My level is still 1. Geez, what's it gunna take to level up around here?
And that Void stat… That definitely seems higher than last time. Ominous.
Echo, you mentioned I have affinities for glass and void, I say.
[Affirmative.]
Does this Void stat have something to do with that?
[Affirmative.]
You know, my favorite thing about Echo is how explicit and illuminating her replies always are.
How? I press. What does it mean?
[The Void stat increases with the rate at which you access the void.]
I'm not accessing any void, I object.
Echo remains silent. Great, I feel so informed. Well, there's not much I can do about it without Echo's input; I guess I'll just have to pay better attention to my stats and start Checking myself more often going forward.
The afternoon stretches on uneventfully, until a flash of movement finally catches my eye. Noli peeks out from around a corner, waving a tentacle in my direction. She waits there a little longer, probably seeing if Trenevalt is around, but he retired to his workshop an hour ago.
I bring my glass out of my inventory as she approaches. I suppose I could use it to climb off the stand once more, but I don't really see much point. Noli's still the only one with any versatility between the two of us. She's capable of doing far more about our situation than me—if I can communicate that to her.
When Noli finally makes it up to the desk, I watch her closely. And I mean, really watch her.
"Hey, Kanin!" she signs. "Some day, huh? I nearly got eaten by a bird. It's crazy out there. I think we might be in the Firestone Mountains. Or it could be the Stonefire Mountains. Or maybe…" She continues to ramble on about geography that means nothing to me.
But this time, I don't just let the translations wash over me as she talks. I pay attention to each movement, follow every wave of her limbs. It doesn't really mean anything to me—even with Google Translate working in the back of my head—and it's even harder to find a pattern now that I'm paying attention. But I don't have to understand each movement. Not yet, at least. I just need to find something I can copy.
There. Noli crosses her arms in an X shape, and just as she's continuing on to another word, I use two of my glass limbs to recreate the shape.
Noli stops mid-sentence. "Hm?" she asks. "Are you trying to say something?"
She didn't catch it then. But at the end of her sentence there's a lifting motion, almost like a shrug, and I break my X to try to copy the gesture.
This time she reaches out to tap one of my limbs. "What's this? Are you copying me?"
There it is again—the pseudo-shrug. Is that her sign-language equivalent of a question mark? I tap one of my limbs twice in a "Yes."
"Oh. Oh!" Noli's signs light up with excited animation. "You can sign? That's amazing!"
I hurriedly tap out a "No." Not yet, at least.
"You're… trying to sign?" she guesses.
"Yes," I tap. Then I add the shrug.
Noli laughs. "No, like this." She nudges my glass around. It looks the same to me, but she appears satisfied.
"You're a strange one, Kanin," Noli signs. "You can understand my signs, right?"
"Yes," I tap.
She cocks her head. "But you don't know how to sign?"
"No," I tap.
She shakes her head. "Stranger and stranger yet. But you won't be able to make much with just those four sticks. I'm surprised you can even understand much from these things!" She wiggles two of her bronze tentacles. "Fingers and faces do a lot of the heavy lifting, you know."
I'd figured as much. If I want to be able to communicate effectively, I'll be needing more glass. Not that I have much of a vocabulary to articulate that at the moment.
"Here, hold them out," Noli signs.
I levitate my four glass rods before me, and she begins to nudge them around in the air.
"Not much to work with, but this one is pretty close to 'What?'" She uses another two limbs to move the glass while keeping them in the same orientation. "Good. Now you try."
I move the glass back into the position she'd just shown me and wait for her approval.
"No!" Noli cries. "You can't just keep it there. It's the movement, see? The movement is part of it. Honestly, you've been watching me talk all this time and you haven't figured that out…"
Noli shows me a handful of other signs my four pieces of glass are barely capable of approximating, and I'll be lucky if I can remember half of them. But in spite of everything, I find myself having fun.
It's hard. Noli is an encouraging yet terribly impatient teacher, at once showering me with encouragement while also nitpicking every shape and motion I make. Yet the handful of signs I pick up fill me with so much pride, it feels like nailing a scene on the first go. I learned this. No help from magic voices or mana. Just me and my own brain, learning new things. I feel an urge to smile.
Fate sure is throwing everything it can my way, but maybe I'll find some way to make it through. Maybe I'll find ways to cope.
Just maybe, I got this.
Chapter 8 - Ready? Fight!
[Command resumed.]
Huh?
I lower my glass, which I'd been using to practice some of Noli's signs, and glance around the room.
It's late—or maybe early. I haven't been keeping track of time, and I don't have any more glass to Attune in order to mimic sleeping and skip through the night. Noli left a couple hours ago to go map out the property, and as far as I can tell, Trenevalt's asleep. Had I just imagined Echo speaking up? Nothing has changed, except…
[Sanity Level: 99%] A familiar static begins to eat its way into the peripheral of my mind.
Damn it.
What's going on? I ask Echo.
[Command resumed,] Echo repeats.
Yeah no shit. The curse is already sinking its fangs into me once more. Why? I press.
[The Role Command was paused with the amendment, 'that is more than enough cleaning for today.' Command resumed when the day ended.]
Of course.
Grumpily, I reposition my glass legs to lift myself out of my stand. It's sort of like wearing roller-skates; it's not my first time, anymore, but it still takes a minute to adjust and remember how to not fall on my face.
I'm going, I say, just to abate the Command's insistence. I don't like it, but there's also not much I can do to fight it.
Which just makes me resent it even more.
But what to do, is the question. Trenevalt swept up that pile of dust Noli and I collected, along with my feather-duster. Damn, I should have thought to put that in my inventory. Too late now. So what does that leave?
I pause worrying about cleaning to instead worry about making it down the desk alive. Stabbing my glass into the desk's leg—probably leaving tiny holes behind, but who's counting—I begin to inch my way down, and quickly determine it's no less terrifying the second time. I'm only halfway to the floor when Noli shows up.
"Hey! Didn't expect to see you down here," she signs, rather conversationally. "Did you want to come help me scout? I've learned a little about our surroundings. There's a road—well, more of a path—well, more of an impression—well, it might be an animal trail…"
Finally making it to the ground, I ready my glass to reply to Noli, but Echo interrupts me first.
[Climbing skill obtained!]
Gee, thanks for giving me that now. "No," I sign to Noli.
"Oh." Noli considers. "Then why are you down here?"
I wish she'd taught me something for "Exasperation." Instead, lacking any nuanced vocabulary, I mime sweeping the floor.
"Oh! Oh, right. Is it the curse again?"
"Yes," I sign.
"Well!" Noli folds two arms. "In the middle of the night? That's just rude."
You're telling me. This is some reverse Cinderella bullshit.
[Sanity Level: 98%] Echo says.
I don't even need her to tell me; the pressure is building in the back of my mind. It's taking every fiber of my being to ignore it. I'm pushing things just by stopping to have this conversation. Stinging with resentment, I give in, and start moving once more.
The relief is instantaneous. Like I've let a tension out of my shoulders. But what to do? What cleaning can I even manage in this form?
Noli skitters after as my current aimless trajectory takes me to the kitchen. Not much to do on the floor. But up on the counter…
Eugh. I'd rather not.
I pause to sign a question mark at Noli. She tips her head.
"What are you asking?" She looks around the kitchen. "You're asking for ideas? For chores?"
"Yes," I sign. It would be great if she had better ideas than me.
"Oh, well…" She hesitates. "There's always the dishes, right?"
Sigh. Yeah.
Yeah.
There's always that.
With the Command urging me on, I begin my climb to the kitchen counter. It's fairly similar to the desk, actually, and if I stay toward the edge, I can dodge around all the cliffs and crevices of the drawers. I'm not sure if that newly acquired Climbing Skill is doing anything, or just tracking my progress, but I suspect it's just as useless as the Cleaning Skill turned out to be.
I keep a cautious pace, despite the Command pressure that begins to press at me from my slow progress; still better to try to ignore the growing mental tinnitus than to be hasty and miss a step, falling to my death.
Or at least, that's the idea.
[Sanity Level: 95%] Echo says as the minutes stretch.
That is starting to get really annoying. The mind-static is getting louder, harder to ignore, but I'm almost there. There's only the lip of the countertop above me. I lift my next leg to stab into the top surface, but instead of sinking into the wood, it skips over the top with a slight glassy screech.
I pause, tapping at it again. Dread sinks into me with the realization: It's not wood.
It's stone.
"You got this Kanin!" Noli signs from below.
I run my limb over the countertop, feeling for any purchase within range, but it's all depressingly, horrifically smooth.
No, Noli. I don't think I got this.
[Sanity Level: 94%]
The Command is pressing in on me. Do I have time to climb back down? Can I search for somewhere else to clean? There has to be something—anything—I can do. But the static is getting worse. The pressure is clouding out every other thought. There's no time to think, and as the tinnitus swells, so does a hint of my panic.
[Sanity Level: 93%]
I know. I know! The Command's eating up my mind, discomfort edging toward pain. I desperately try to hook my leg over the lip of the kitchen counter and leverage myself up, but the glass slips over the slick surface, and I nearly lose my hold.
From below, Noli gasps. "Careful!"
This would be about a thousand times easier without Noli and Echo distracting me.
I pick up one of the three legs I have stabbed into the side of the cabinet and lodge it higher, then push, inching myself up—
"There!" Noli cries.
I roll onto the counter with relief. Getting back down will be its own issue, but for now, at least, step one is complete.
[Sanity Level: 95%]
The mental pressure recedes a hair, and I use the opportunity to gather my wits. There are more cabinets above me, a cutting board and knife block on the counter, a forest of used teacups and, of course, a washing basin set into the countertop. Weaving my way through the mugs, it's at the basin I find what I'm looking for: soap, a pitcher of water, and stacks upon stacks of moldy dishes.
Jeez, even I wasn't this much of a pig in my bachelor pad. Leaving dirty dishes to pile up for a day or two—or, okay, maybe a week—is one thing, but literally mold growing over the plates is something else. Ugh. I am not looking forward to this.
Tipping the pitcher over will be tricky. The soap at least I can manage.
Channeling my inner cat, I walk over to the edge of the basin and casually kick the soap off the edge. It bounces off stacks of bowls and mugs on the way down, striking the metal bottom with a loud thud, before finally knocking into one of the glasses, which tips over with another loud clatter. I cringe. Trenevalt, however, doesn't show.
Next I walk over to the pitcher of water. Definitely won't be able to tip it over. But I have a different idea brewing. Hey, Echo, I say, touching the pitcher. Can I put this in my inventory?
[Affirmative.] The pitcher vanishes. [Jug of water added to inventory.]
Sweet! Now I just need to make it reappear over the sink and I'll be set. I look down into the basin.
Hmm. That glass I knocked over is looking pretty tempting, and I sure could use some more to Attune. But with the sink full of water, I might not be able to reach it.
I Check my sanity level: 97%. Repositioning the soap helped abate some of the mental static, so I think I've got time to investigate. Maybe staying in motion will trick the Command into thinking I'm being productive and buy me a few more minutes while I'm at it.
I make a lap around the sink, scouting out the best way down. Haphazard stacks of plates, bowls, glasses, and miscellaneous silverware are piled up against the sides, so it's not the biggest obstacle I've faced. As long as I can get back up, I'll be fine.
Totally fine.
Selecting a staircase of plates as my entry point, I take a tentative step forward. My glass gives off a faint yet painful screech as it slides across the ceramic, then catches. I pause, then try a second limb. It slips, but holds. Carefully, slowly, I progress down the tower.
It's kind of like walking on ice. I still don't feel completely stable on these glass limbs of mine, and the slippery surface isn't helping. But once I get the hang of it, it's not so bad. Slow and steady sets the—
A plate shifts to the side, one of my legs slips from the surface, and I crash into the stack of dishes.
[1 point of Fall damage sustained.]
Colors swirl nonsensically around me as I hit something else.
[2 points of Fall damage sustained.]
It's too fast to do anything. None of my limbs have any purchase, and I don't know which way is up or down regardless. I slam into something that rings hollowly, feel a sickening crunch, and then everything is still.
[4 points of Fall damage sustained.]
[HP: 3/10]
[Bonus HP: 8]
You're useless, Bonus HP. Useless!
[Fall Damage Resistance skill: Level up! Now resist 20% of damage sustained from falling.]
Gee. Thanks.
I guess that's one way to get down. I slowly move each of my limbs, making sure they're not broken. It doesn't hurt, exactly—at least, not how things hurt when I had a real body. But it's distinctly uncomfortable. And something feels… fragile, almost.
I roll over, and quickly discover the source of that discomfort. Part of my vision is blurred, a series of cracks spiderwebbed across my surface. Yeesh, sure hope that's fixable. In the meantime, I'll just have to try to not put that side under any undue stress. Rotating to point the damaged portion upward and away from my glass legs, I carefully position my limbs back underneath me and limp to my feet.
This wasn't one of my worst ideas, but it certainly wasn't one of my best.
At any rate, I'm down here now. I creep over to the glass that I'd knocked over a minute before. Tch, no cracks at all. Typical. I lean against the rim.
[Target acquired,] Echo says.
Nice! Can I Attune it?
[Attunement unavailable,] Echo says.
What? Why?
[Attunement cost: 18 mana. Time required: 18 hours.]
Shit, I forgot about that. The Command definitely won't let me wait for hours to get to work on these chores. And I don't have near that much Mana anyway. With the static slowly creeping back in, I decide this is a Future Kanin problem; time to get back to work.
I'll be back for you, later, glass.
As I'm surveying my trek back up Moldy Plate Mountain, something moves in the shadows behind me. I freeze. Was that Noli?
I wait, but the night remains still. I hold a limb defensively in front of me, pointing the sharp end into the dark. I'm sure I didn't imagine it. It's hard not to notice things when you can see every which way at once.
A creature skitters from the dark.
Ahhhhh! I back up, clanking into a bowl, and wave my sword (toothpick) menacingly (haphazardly) in front of me.
The beast is fast. It zig-zags across the basin, making a beeline straight for me. I stab toward it with my glass, but it slips right past. I brace for impact—but the creature stops a hair's breadth away from my vial and freezes, filling my vision with its awful visage.
It's a cockroach. Or, some hideous variation thereof. Its hard shell gleams in the moonlight, sprouting far too many legs and quivering feelers, mandibles clicking open and shut mere millimeters from my face. From this vantage point, the insect is less disgusting and more some primordial horror. It couldn't really hurt me, right? I'm made of glass. But one side of me is damaged, and I don't want to think about how much (or little) effort it would take for the cracked portion to collapse. I take a cautious step to the side.
At my movement it bolts forward, placing two of its legs on my surface. Revulsion and fear shiver through me in equal parts. Oh hell no, I am not going to become some insect's midnight snack!
I slash at the bug with my glass, and this time I connect. It jerks to the side at the attack, and I feel my glass skip over its shell.
[1 point of Slashing damage dealt,] Echo reports.
Oh my god. I actually hit it! I'm amazing! I—
The cockroach bowls over me and I slip from my legs, rolling back a few inches until I crash into a plate.
[1 point of Fall damage sustained.]
Holy shit. What am I at, 2 health? This cannot be the way I die. Bug attack has got to be more embarrassing than "Tripped over your own prop." I mean, neither are ideal, but—
The bug is racing back toward me. I don't know if it's coming after me because I'm moving, or I'm in its territory, or what, but it doesn't matter: This is life or death, and I don't plan to be the one dying.
I recall two of my limbs and they come jetting back; I raise them before me like a barricade. It's enough to make the insect pause, but my mind is still racing. The other two pieces of glass I send flying at the bug like spears. It notices one of them and skitters out of its way. But my other glass is coming from the other direction, and this one strikes home. I feel a nauseating crunch as my glass sinks into its shell.
[4 points of Piercing damage dealt,] Echo says.
The cockroach writhes. There's no sound, no screams, as it contorts around my tiny glass blade. I stare in horror. I feel like throwing up. It's suffering. And even though I've done exactly what I'd intended to, I immediately regret everything.
I shake myself from my shock. I have to finish this. I send two more of my shards to pin the creature down and keep it from rolling about, and I send the third toward its head. I hesitate a moment. Never before in my life have I felt bad about squishing a bug. But it sure feels a hell of a lot more real when you're down here at eye-level. When you could have been the one just as easily squished.
I plunge my last piece of glass into the insect, and gradually, the twitching stops.
I want to be sick.
[Level Up!] Echo announces. A comforting warmth wraps around me as stats appear in my mind.
[Name: Kanin]
[Species: N/A]
[Class: None]
[Level: 2]
[HP: 10/10]
[Bonus HP: 8]
[Mana: 11/11]
[Void: 25%]
[Role: Homunculus]
Wow. Not even an increase in my HP? And one whole extra point of Mana. I'm thrilled. All it will take is a hoard of slaughtered cockroaches to start gaining some momentum from these level-ups. But the broken glass at the top of my vision now appears healed, so there's that at least.
Fighting back another wave of disgust, I begin to extract my pieces of glass from the bug carcass, but Echo isn't done with me yet. [Select Class.]
Um. Class?
[Class options available,] Echo continues.
[Warrior | Brawler | Ranger]
[Bruiser | Guardian | Rogue]
[Wizard | Healer | Artificer]
Er… Do I have to do this now?
[Select Class,] Echo repeats.
I give an internal sigh. I guess that's a yes. Alright Echo. What will classes do for me? I'm familiar with the concept from my gaming days, but I don't trust this world to be straightforward.
[Classes: Specialties which promote access to different branches of skillsets and spells, generally focused on Strength, Health, or Mana, and with emphasis on offense, defense, or utility.]
So actually pretty straightforward then. But most of these class names don't mean anything to me. Bruiser? Brawler? Yeah, no thanks, those sound exactly like things I don't want to be doing in a fragile glass body. And I am certainly no Warrior—insect crusades aside.
What did that leave… artificer, healer, wizard, ranger, rogue, guardian.
Not feeling very capable guarding anything but my emotions at the moment. Isn't Noli a ranger? I guess that would be fine. And Trenevalt is a wizard, obviously.
[Sanity Level: 91%]
The cleaning Command starts to nibble at my mind once more. Moving the soap into the basin had helped stem some of the Command's insistence, but I guess leaving dead cockroaches scattered about doesn't help the "Cleaning" quota. The longer I delay, the worse the Command is going to get. I really don't have time for this.
I don't know, Echo, I say. What do you think's best? Not like she'd actually have an answer.
[The majority of your abilities have utilized spells which consume Mana,] she says, surprising me. [With a secondary focus on Offense. The Wizard class uses Mana as a primary focus with Offense as a secondary focus. Alternately, a Ranger class has a primary focus of Strength with a secondary focus of Utility.]
Wizard or ranger, then, huh? Strength is certainly not one of my areas of expertise. If I want to focus on building up my ability to communicate—and figure out how to get back to my real body—focusing on magic is probably my best bet.
The Command static is turning into an uncomfortable buzz, so it's time to just make a decision.
Wizard, I tell Echo, wishing I'd had more time to talk it over with Noli. Let's go with Wizard.
[Class selected,] Echo says.
[Arcane Specialty: +10 to Mana. Ambitious Spirit: +5 to Attack. Status updated.]
Look at me, leveling up and gaining shit. Sorry, cockroach. Your sacrifice was not in vain. Now I'm a wizard. A tiny, glass wizard.
[Sanity Level: 90%] Echo reminds me.
But there's no time to celebrate my upgrade now: It's time to get scrubbing.
Chapter 9 - Dish Sucks
Double-checking that the bar of soap is still in the basin—shockingly it is—I search for a better route up than I'd come down. A stack of plates seems fairly suitable. I head up slowly, testing each step before I shift my weight, determined to avoid another Humpty Dumpty situation.
With little else to do, I talk to Echo while I climb. Can I put anything I'm touching in my inventory? I ask.
[Organic matter is incompatible with the nature of the pocket dimension,] Echo says.
Fair enough. I doubt there's any air in there. But I hadn't really planned on sticking people—or cockroach corpses—in my inventory, anyway. When I take an item out of my inventory, can I choose where it appears? I ask.
[The summoning location is dependent upon the summoner range and available space,] Echo says.
That makes sense: Can't summon a glass in the middle of a wall. What's my range?
[A three-inch radius originating at your center of mass.]
Three inches doesn't seem like much on the surface, but that's about my same width in either direction. Not the worst.
Can I summon it in any orientation?
[Affirmative.]
Now we're getting somewhere.
I make it out of the basin without another comedy of errors, my glass footsteps making tiny musical tinklings as I step back onto the granite.
Moment of truth. Alright, Echo. Can you take the pitcher of water out of my inventory? But on its side. Like this. I picture the orientation I want it to manifest. Got it?
[Affirmative,] Echo says. [Item removed from inventory.]
The pitcher appears an inch above the counter, whereupon it immediately crashes down, slips over the lip, and into the pile of dishes. I cringe as I hear something shatter. An impressive geyser of water spills into the basin, but a good amount also splashes out onto the kitchen floor beyond. Oops. More to clean up later, I guess.
I also hadn't meant to break anything. But hey—are those pieces of glass I see down there? If the shoe fits…
A light turns on in Trenevalt's room. Shit. I guess I wasn't being particularly subtle, was I? No time to clean up my mess, I dart behind a clutter of cups just as Trenevalt emerges from his room.
"Who's there?" he grumbles. "What's going on out here?"
I remain motionless, just enough of my glass poking out from behind a mug that I can keep an eye on him. A tiny glowing ball of light hovers above his fingertips, which he raises as he slowly surveys the room.
Light shimmers off the spilled water and empty pitcher.
"Ahh," he says, frowning at the scene. He stares at it a moment, his look of suspicion turning into confusion. "Now how did that…"
A shadow skitters across the floor. Trenevalt turns in time for his light to flash off the limbs of a tiny brass octopus as it vanishes into the living room.
"Ah, yes," he grumbles. "The aberrant vessel causing trouble again. Must be malfunctioning." He scratches at his beard in a very wizardly way. "A result of the imperfect summoning, perhaps. I'll have to release its energy back Between when I can catch it." He glances over to the water basin with a sigh. "I've had quite enough of this mischief, thank you."
Noli is getting blamed for my antics once again; I'll have to make it up to her later. For now, my limbs are itching to move, the need to clean building in my soul like some inner monster struggling to burst out. (The fanfic of which my show followers would have devoured each other to read, no doubt.) Trenevalt is still looking in my direction, just one second-glance away from catching me in the act. Uninterested in being pegged as the "Imperfect summoning" that I am and released back into the waiting jaws of the predator, I remain motionless.
Rubbing his eyes, Trenevalt yawns, turns, and hobbles back into his bedroom. The door thunks quietly shut.
Whew.
No time to count my lucky stars, I jump into action. There's water and soap in the basin, but those dishes won't clean themselves.
I pause at the lip. Hey Echo, what's the range of my Attuned glass?
[At level 2, the range of Attuned objects increases to a radius of six inches.]
Double the un-attuned objects, at least, but still not far enough for me to avoid a sudsy fate. Back in the basin it is.
The plates are slick now, making my journey even more precarious than before, but I make it to the water level without incident. Here I hesitate, dipping one of my shards into the surface. It's so strange. I can feel it like I'm touching it myself, but it's nothing like the experience of physical sensations in a human body. I can distantly tell it's cool, but it doesn't chill me. I can sense its density, but it doesn't hinder my movement. I edge further in, knowing what must come next.
As I lower myself into the water, I feel my buoyancy take over, and I gently let my legs float away. Half of my vision is under the water while half of it is above—more than a little disorienting, I'll admit. I try to just focus my attention on what's below.
I send my limbs to the bottom of the basin, where they skewer the bar of soap that's sitting there. I don't have enough strength to lift it, but I can at least start nudging it around—and that appears to be the right move, as it results in a lessening of the Command pressure. My Sanity Level slowly ticks back up.
As I nudge the soap around, I bump into something that scrapes faintly across the bottom of the basin. It's hard to see through the dark waters, but a glint of light catches faintly on something. Ah! The broken glass.
Probably best to cover up the evidence of my misadventures—and stock up on some more Attunement ammo while I'm at it.
Echo, can you add these pieces to my inventory as well? I ask.
[Negative,] Echo says. [The targets must be in physical contact to add to the inventory.]
Right. I should have thought to do that when I was down here the first time. Well, can you add each one as I touch them? So I don't have to ask you each time.
[The user does not need to ask for permission from this unit to activate spells or access their inventory,] Echo says. [This unit merely reports on the status of the actions the user takes.]
Sheesh, no need be so snippy. I mean, I'd already figured out she isn't needed for me to do spells, but it just gets a bit lonely being locked in my own head. Just humor me, alright?
I bob around the tub of water, beginning to magically Swiffer up all the shards of glass. I probably won't find every tiny sliver, but the big pieces are easy enough to bump into—or discover with my underwater scrubbing. After a few minutes go by since the last inventoried piece, Echo says, [39 glass shards added to inventory.]
Oof. I think I felt that. Like I'm slightly heavier now. Which is strange since I hadn't noticed anything when I'd picked up the pitcher of water. Maybe it has to do with how full the inventory is rather than the actual weight?
I muse on this as I continue to clean, the water gradually becoming oily and lathered as I move the soap around the soaking dishes. I try not to think about the bits of food that begin to loosen from plates and rise to the surface—along with the corpse of the cockroach.
A tapping sound comes from the counter above me.
"Kanin!" Noli appears. "There you are. That was a close one, huh?"
On the one hand, the company is welcome, given I don't even have thumbs to twiddle as I go about this mind-numbing chore. But the exchange is somewhat dampened given my inability to sign back—and embarrassment over having someone else witness my predicament. I suppose there's nothing for it, though.
I let go of the soap with one of my limbs so I can wave back at Noil, who returns the gesture with near child-like enthusiasm. I'd chuckle if I could. I'm not sure her cheery disposition will ever stop surprising me.
"I don't know if I can teach you many signs with just that one piece," Noli signs. "Can't do much with a thin rod."
I don't have any other limbs to spare from the dishes. I could Attune more of the glass in my inventory, but that would take hours, something that will need to wait until after this cleaning Command is fulfilled.
But I have another trick up my sleeve, don't I?
I cast Sculpt on my piece of glass.
Slowly, I bend the glass into a semicircle. It only takes about ten seconds or so—nowhere near the full two minutes. But it still feels agonizingly slow for the simple shapes I want to make.
Noli catches on pretty quick. "Oh! That's brilliant, Kanin."
Yeah, I have my moments.
"Still a far cry from fingers," she muses. "And it really would help to have at least two pieces you could use…"
Hey, I'm trying my best.
"...But we can work with this! Let's see, let's see, what's something simple…" Noli moves through a series of signs that aren't even translated for me—maybe because there's no intention behind the movements. "Okay, let's try this one," she finally decides. "It's one-handed. Where." She pauses the sign, letting me try to replicate the shape. "No, your top part isn't pointed right. Like this, see?" I edit my shape. "There you go! And now you do this motion. Good. Okay, what's next… Oh! Here's another one that's useful: Cat…"
I copy another two or three signs before my timer runs out, then I activated another Sculpt. At this rate, I'll run out of mana in twenty or so minutes, but that's twenty minutes of mental stimulation that's otherwise difficult to come by. And I… kinda enjoy this? It's nice. Noli's good company, despite our circumstances.
Eventually, the mind-static subsides as my Sanity Level reaches 100% once more. I wait another moment, just in case it's going to come back, then cautiously make my way back toward the edge of the now-sudsy sink.
[Cleaning skill: level up!] Echo abruptly announces.
[Sculpt spell: level up! At level 3, mana cost is reduced by 20% and spell duration is increased by 20%.]
[Foreign language skill: obtained!]
Well that's nice, I guess. I still don't feel like the skills are actually doing anything for me, but the spell level up at least comes with the mana reduction and bonus duration. I'll take it.
Noli laughs as I finally drag myself out of the sink. "You're absolutely filthy!"
She doesn't need to tell me. Water is dripping down my surface, distorting my vision, while bubbles and bits of food stuff obscure patches of my sight completely.
"Here," Noli signs, hurrying down the counter. "I saw a dish towel around here somewhere… Aha!"
She reels a rag up over the edge of the counter from where it must have been hanging on some rack. Noli brings it over, hesitating before patting me down.
"Maybe don't be standing on those legs," she suggests. "Still a bit clumsy with these arms. Don't want to knock you over."
Her concern is appreciated, even with 20% fall damage resistance. I flatten myself on the counter and let Noli dry me off. I find myself faintly self-conscious to be so prostrate and pampered—although perhaps it's a little ridiculous to feel bashful when I don't even have a body to be embarrassed of. I'd just have to avoid a repeat of this in the future. Develop a longer range for my glass, somehow. Maybe with more leveling ups.
Ugh. I miss being human.
"There," Noli signs, stepping back. "All dry!"
My glass is a little bit streaky, but I'll manage.
"Hm," Noli considers as I climb back to my feet. "You look different somehow."
Different? Was it the Level Up? Did I get bigger?
[Negative,] Echo says, uninvited.
Psh, I didn't want to be bigger anyway.
"Can't put my finger on it," Noli signs, tipping her head to the side.
I shift uncomfortably under her scrutinizing look. I'm still figuring out this body, and I don't like the idea of there being some element to it I don't understand.
But I don't intend to live like this forever. And now that I have more glass to work with, it's about time I start putting my Get Back to My Smoking Hot Bod plan into motion.
Chapter 10 - The Shell
Retreating to my stand, I impatiently recover some mana and then skip through the rest of the night with Attunements. This time I do four at a time to make use of that 10% discount. The 8 mana it would typically take gets rounded down to 7, and it reduces my Attunement time from 8 hours to a little over seven hours as well. Hey, I'll take it.
The next morning, there's a certain skip in Trenevalt's step—or stumble—and his eyes are bright and smiling. I am immediately filled with grave suspicion.
He sets his breakfast at his desk (come on, why even have a kitchen table?) and taps me happily. "Today's the day, I think."
That can't be good.
He rubs his fingers together thoughtfully. "It would have taken longer to build a second shell for our little escape artist friend, but given the circumstances I suspect they would not make for a very reliable homunculus. There should be enough spark here for you, at least."
Oh, shit, he's talking about the homunculus shell. I quickly Check his stats.
[Name: Trenevalt]
[Species: Halfling]
[Class: Null Summoner]
[Level: 40]
[HP: 20/50]
[Mana: 750/800]
Shit! How had he gotten so much mana back? Last I checked it had still barely recovered. Is there some way to recover mana faster than the passive one point every ten minutes I've been limited to?
[Affirmative,] Echo says. [There are a variety of spells, skills, and items which allow for the recovery of mana, at the cost of time, HP, Strength, or—]
Okay, okay, I get it! He did something to recover mana. I just wasn't expecting it to happen so fast. I thought I had more time to break down the communication barrier—learn flag signs, or get Noli to write something, or—I don't know, anything. But it's too late for all of that. Which means now I need to act, or get the fuck out of here.
I guess there's no point in hiding my glass abilities anymore. I'd rather not be labeled a "Defect" like Noli and be returned Between, but if being seen as a defect means he's no longer interested in bonding me to that shell, then it's worth the risk. I summon four pieces of Attuned glass and hold my figurative breath.
And Trenevalt… doesn't even notice. He's happily chewing a mouthful of eggs and ham. I wave my tiny limbs up at him. Light skips over the room, reflected off my wiggling glass, but he doesn't react. Alright, that's how it's gunna be, huh?
I angle the glass, turning the pieces slowly so light scatters across Trenevalt's face like a disco ball. He squints and blinks, turning his head to the side with a grunt. He holds a hand up against the sunny assault, frowning as his eyes dart around for the source—and finally find me.
I wave.
"You…?" Confusion fills his voice. "What in Lorata's Light…"
Now that I have his attention, a ghost of stage fright passes through me. The last time performing made me nervous was in high school, but my continued existence had never hinged on those thespian acts.
I sign a rough greeting Noli had shown me. "Hello! I am small." Crap, I have to know something more useful than that. "You are a wizard. I clean." Er. I scramble to remember any other signs Noli had taught me. "Cat?"
Goddammit, Noli.
But Trenevalt seems more interested in my shards of glass than what they're saying. He reaches a gentle finger out to tap one of my limbs. "What's this? How are you moving them?"
"Magic!" There, that one at least is sensible. Again, however, he doesn't seem to understand. Maybe it was too much to expect other people to understand sign language like Noli. After all, he hadn't listened to her the first day, either.
His frown deepens and his look becomes dark. "Most irregular. Most irregular indeed. I must not have executed the spell properly. But what side effects…"
He plucks me between two fingers before I can react, lifting me into the air. I mentally tense, keeping my glass close; if they fall out of range at this height, I don't trust them not to shatter.
Trenevalt swishes me from side to side, sloshing the ink around inside me as my little glass limbs float after like the arms of a jellyfish. It's a little nauseating (not to mention demeaning), and I'm about ready to vanish my glass back into my inventory when Trenevalt stops.
"Curious. Never seen anything like this before," he muses. "Yet clearly my intent was imbued into the vessel as desired. You do understand your purpose is to assist me around the house?"
"Yes," I sign, lacking the proper swear words to articulate my full response.
But even that simple sign seems to fall on deaf ears. Or eyes, as the case may be. He watches my glass move without any indication of recognition, then sets me back down on the stand.
"You appear responsive at any rate. Quite the conundrum, quite the conundrum… Perhaps binding you to the shell will smooth out these irregularities, wherever they might have come from. I shall need to consult my texts." With a grunt, Trenevalt pushes himself to his feet. Glancing back to shake a scolding finger at me, he adds, "Don't go anywhere, now."
God damn it that's going to be another—
[Command received,] Echo says.
Yeah, yeah, I know. Shit, I shouldn't have let that happen. Maybe playing dumb would have been the better move. I half-heartedly give a little testing wiggle, and static bursts into my mind.
[Sanity Level: 90%]
It's painful, blinding, and leaves a ringing in my hearing that lingers even after I flinch back into motionlessness. Fuck. That was a lot more stark than the cleaning Command. Maybe because this one is more clear-cut, whereas the cleaning had been open to interpretation. I don't know how the magic works. But I'm not tempted to move again.
Which is a problem, since I need to get out of here.
My attention is drawn back to the homunculus shell sitting as quiet as ever in the corner of the office. Like a predator, waiting, patient and still. A chill creeps through me. I thought I had more time. I should have come up with some kind of plan, even if it's just to take my chances out in the wild. But now I'm well and truly helpless. A sitting duck. And Trenevalt talking about binding me to that thing "Smoothing out the irregularities" is exactly what I've been worried about.
A tiny thumping and scraping of metal on wood announces the approach of a familiar form. Noli climbs from the floor, to the chair, to the desk, in now-practiced motions. Seems like she's starting to get the hang of her body, just as I am.
Though it might not be for much longer.
"Hey," she signs, this time with a more curious than bubbly tone in her movements. "I just saw the wizard head out to his workshop. Is something up?"
Hesitantly, I nudge one of my glass limbs just a hair—I suppose since I'm not trying to leave, the Command deems this movement acceptable. Relieved, I point it toward the homunculus shell. Noli follows the gesture.
"That thing? He's going to put you in that?"
"Yes," I sign.
"Soon?"
"Yes."
"Then it's time we bust out of here."
Wouldn't that be lovely. "No."
Noli pauses. "No, you don't want to? Or no, you can't?"
I hold up two pieces of glass.
"It's the curse again?" She doesn't have to wait for me to confirm. "That puts us in a tight spot, then, doesn't it?"
One of us, anyway. She can still run. She doesn't have to stick around on my account.
Though I don't want her to go.
"Not to worry," Noli signs, some amount of her chipper demeanor returning to her words. "I can carry you. I've gotten a lot better with these legs, promise!"
She wraps a couple of her tentacles around me—much gentler than the first time—and tries to lift me from the stand. Immediately I know it's wrong. My Sanity Level plummets as the Command rears up like a physical force, crushing into my mind, jolting pain through every atom of my being. I lash out, blindly, desperately, flailing from pure, self-preserving instinct—
"Ah!"
[2 points of Slashing damage dealt.]
[Sanity Level: 70%]
Noli flinches back, dropping me back into my stand as she cradles a limb. Just as suddenly, the Command pressure recedes from my mind, as if it had never been there at all. I snap my glass away from Noli, horrified.
I'm sorry! I didn't mean to. I didn't want to hurt her.
"I'll take that as a no," Noli jokes, but there's hurt in her tone.
I wish I could tell her it was an accident. I sadly let my limbs sag.
"It's alright," Noli assures me, even though she'sthe one who's hurt. "The curse again?"
I sign a melancholic, "Yes."
"Message received." She examines a limb. There's a scratch carved into the surface, but it doesn't appear to have cut through the brass shell. "Just surprised me, is all."
Some of that might just be her trying to reassure me, but I'm relieved to see I didn't do any lasting damage. I guess I'm still just a Level 2 glass bottle at the end of the day. Even if I tried, I can't be capable of too much damage.
Trenevalt's footsteps thrum through the floorboards as he reaches the steps just outside the front door. Seems like our time is up. Noli looks at the door, then looks at me.
"We're small," I sign. I don't know what she's thinking, but there's nothing we can do. Certainly nothing against someone as powerful as Trenevalt. Even without his magic, we wouldn't be a match.
"Don't give up, yet," Noli signs.
But I can hear the front door open, and fear flutters through me. I aim a shoo-ing motion at Noli, trying to get her to leave. But still, she hesitates.
Trenevalt rounds the corner, half a dozen old leather books loaded in his arms. The tomes are thick and their covers cracked, yellow pages sticking haphazardly out of the bindings which in turn are only kept from bursting open by leather straps. Too preoccupied with his texts, he doesn't even notice Noli as he drops the heavy stack of books onto his desk.
He removes one from the pile and sets it out, pushing the others to the side and nearly shoving Noli off the edge in the process. Flipping the book open, he leafs through the pages until he finds the one he's looking for.
It's hard to make out specifics from my angle, given the text is nearly level with me, but the contents of the page are obvious enough without any arcane knowledge: It's a series of symbols and round shapes woven together in an ornate pattern. A spell circle, if I were a betting man.
Trenevalt traces his finger over the page, mumbling to himself. From my vantage point, I can see Noli edging her way around the stack of books. I try to wave her off, but this only draws Trenevalt's attention.
"I'll be getting to you, not to worry," he says, which is exactly what I'm worried about. "Just looking for any flaws in my work… So strange, nothing as of yet. But I… forget myself, sometimes. Make simple mistakes. I should think you're the last homunculus I'll be able to manage. After this…" He trails off, flipping the pages once more.
Noli peeks around the stack of books, god knows what's on her mind. But before she can make a move, Trenevalt snaps his book shut, places it back on the stack, and pulls another from the middle of the pile to peruse. As the heap of books collapses back down, one of Noli's limbs gets caught in the gap. She tugs, but her arm is stuck firmly between two of the tomes.
"Nothing wrong with the circles," he concludes. "Or if there was, it eludes me. That leaves two options: the forging of the core, or the collection spell."
Something tells me it was the collection spell.
"I don't mean to brag, but I'm fairly confident in my artisan skills." Trenevalt smiles fondly as he settles on a page with a tiny scrawl of dense text. "I once fancied myself a toymaker, you know. However, the collection spell… Hm. I can't see how that would go wrong. But perhaps if it was not tuned to the correct plane… Or it collected too much, or not enough…"
Yeah, one of those things sounds about right. Maybe Trenevalt's getting somewhere after all. Maybe we just need to let him lead himself to the right conclusion. Damn, if this was all it took, should we have clued him in from the start? Have I spent the last two days running around doing chores and nearly dying for no reason?
He taps the page, spending a while on whatever line he's found. "Perhaps that's the answer. Yes…. Yes, I suppose it's the best option to try."
Trenevalt hobbles over to the corner, and I go cold when I see what he's reaching for. Trenevalt hooks his arms around the homunculus shell's shoulders, grunting from the effort. He drags the glass doll around the front of the desk.
Shit. He's going to do it now. He's gunna stick me in that thing. And there's nothing I can do to stop him. Panic crawls up my limbs like a swell of static.
Trenevalt lays the body out on the floor, marking squiggling patterns of chalk around its head, hands, feet, and chest. I watch with a sort of detached horror.
Noli redoubles her efforts to escape the pile of books, and something about that movement breaks my spell of dread. I might not be able to do anything, but maybe Noli can, if she can just get free. Shaking away my panic, I focus on shooting two pieces of glass toward the books. If I can wedge them between the stack, maybe it'll be enough for Noli to squeeze out.
[Range limit,] Echo warns, but I can't worry about that now. I push them further away, feel my grasp on them slip—
The limbs fall to the table with a tiny clink as one cracks in half.
I wince at a phantom pain.
[1 point of Fall damage sustained.]
Trenevalt stands up, dusting off his hands. He sets the piece of chalk down on the desk, then reaches for me.
No, no, no, not yet! I throw a third piece of glass Noli's way, keeping it low above the table, firing it off as fast as I can push it—
[Range limit.]
The glass slips from my hold and falls the hairsbreadth to the table, this time unbroken, and continues to roll toward Noli. She stops it with a limb.
There! Come on, you can do it! She wraps a tentacle around it, lifting the glass up to the books—
Noli disappears from view as Trenevalt's hand closes over me.
[Command nullified.]
I can feel the liquid inside me pushed to one side as I'm swung up into the air. I come to a stop suspended before the wizard's face.
"Ready?" he asks me. "I'm sure by now you're eager for an upgrade, hm?"
Not if it means losing my autonomy I'm not! I try to catch a glimpse of Noli, but Trenevalt is turned away. Shit, what can I do, what can I do? Attunement—no. Sculpt—no. My last piece of signing glass? I can stab it into his hand and get him to drop me. The Role Requirement is no longer keeping me stuck in one place. Maybe I can make a break for it. But will I survive the fall?
No. Not even with my Fall Damage Resistance. Not from this height.
Trenevalt leans down and sets me on the homunculus shell, slotting me into the dip in its chest. I desperately wobble from side to side, but it's too steep to roll out. Panic wells up in me as Trenevalt closes his eyes and begins to mumble words laced with magic. The symbols on the floor around me turn purple. There's a crackle in the air.
There's a crackle around me.
There's no time left to think. I do the only option that's left to me.
Echo, I call. Add the homunculus shell to my inventory!
[Affirmative,] Echo says. [Adding item to inv—]
And that's when the world splits open.