Walker cackled to himself as his eyes teared up, Teret visibly drooping as if not so sure about his decision made seconds prior. Then, as Walker flicked a tear away, his arms no longer hugging his sides, he stood up straight.
"Here you go."
He offered a hand to help the skeleton stand up. Then, clasping his bony digits in Walker's firm grip, he was effortlessly brought upright.
"Funny thing. Now, let's make a way for you to talk. Bring up your status screen and give me a thumbs up if you have a 'Core' status."
Teret nodded and did as he was instructed.
=========
Name: Usuku Teret
Titles: Skelly,
Race: Pitiful Skeleton
Traits: Limb Construction LV 01, Aspiring Butcher LV 00, Random Jackpot Algorithm LV 00.3, Sadism LV 01
Durability: 1200/1200
Mortisim:1650/1650
Additional Stats:
Limb Stability:
A1: 45/75
A2: 360/360
L1: 350/350
L2: 350/350
Morbidity:
Reaper's Stigma LV 01
???? LV 00
Memory LV 00
Organ Power: Not applicable.
Body:
Skeletal Frame LV 10
Bones LV 10
Muscles LV 00 Locked
Meridians LV 00
Additional body parts may be added if they are differentiated in the future.
Core LV 01
Skin LV 00 Locked
Overall Level: 2.25
========
The skeleton propped its thumb upright. Walker formed an even wider smile as anticipation set his mauve eyes ablaze, the man's hair flowing behind him, afloat.
"Then I can 'hack' a little. The more I read over your system's logs, the more sure I am that you are a creature that originated from this game--no, this world. That means you have a soul...which means you can cultivate. Come here."
He waggled a finger over, and over Teret went. An amber brilliance materialized on his fingertip, casting a glazed light in the surroundings. Then, he imbued the dazzling glare in the skeleton's skull with blurring movements by simply tapping his glabella.
The skeleton was dazed as two orbs of lights rapidly formed in his empty sockets before they were quickly smothered by the emptiness of the small space. The brittleness of his bones faded as subtle amber waves washed over the intricate system of cracks, though the faint dust and grime lining them lingered.
Suddenly, Teret felt a lot more energetic!
"Ooo, you look alive~! It makes sense; this is the kind of thing people would sell their existence for. Wanna know what it's called?"
Teret nodded rapidly, his bones feverishly clacking together. The noise was a lot more robust, as if the unhealthiness that plagued it was alleviated by the amber light.
Walker put two fingers up as he paced around the skeleton in a circle. Completing exactly two rotations before he started talking, he sounded quite appreciative of the subject.
"The Amber Ritual that I was granted by this world was entwined with a method from my world, the Vault Within. Mixing them together with my insight, I've created something even that mad scientist Jun Takakagi would envy. That!"
Arriving before the skeleton's gaze once again, he directed a pale ivory digit right before its nose area.
"...Is what you've received. I will teach you how to cultivate this qi, or as we call the various energies back home, Strange Power. Using this and the mortisim within, imma make you all kinds of powerful in...let's say a month."
The screen of light forcefully manifested once again, interrupting Walker, who was about to start instruction. Reading the conversation with a slight grimace, he started bursting out laughing.
Snickering, he gestured for Teret to come over.
"Bring up your quest window once again k? Pick the 'Slay the ants' one or whatever."
====•====
Quest: Slay the ants.
Grade: Passing
Giver: WantaDollah, ???
LV Recommendation: 01+
Description: CCW-Stemmer has found a rundown village of eyesores. When giving them a chance, he was angered by their disrespect. You, one who has also gained his ire, are to eradicate the pests to prove your worth.
If you aren't afraid of the consequences, we of the Cradle's Outer Rim remind you that there are fates worth than death.
Time Limit: 7 days
====•====
"Kekekek, how funny. These brats think they can order around my lovely apprentice. Anyways!"
Rich, herculean rays of power wreathed around his hand in a blackened violet fluorescence. With a swipe, shadows danced and distorted, and the panel was directly sliced in half! A split second later, it was minced into bits as particles floated and dissolved.
[Quest failed. Consequences...pending...]
Walker looped his arm around Teret's shoulder, drawing him into a friendly embrace.
"Don't sweat it, kid. By the time I'm finished with your first set of teaching, you'll be able to wash the floor with those heaps of trash. You're now the apprentice of the greatest assassin on Blue Pangea."
...
The information about Swillberg's three habituated levels was widespread in the newbie forums. The first level, the Saltminer Downs, was a production area that produced various salts. Though it wasn't known by many cultures inhabiting Blue Pangea, salt had numerous uses and applications on many supernatural creatures...
Especially many that were affiliated with death. Blendpunk Chthonim, the general name of the many laced-together dimensions that formed the world of Everything is Bury was almost 100% related to death no matter where you looked.
The name was quite apt, honestly. Salt was included in the production of weapons, pieces of jewelry, and armor--offered as ritualistic sacrifices for certain gods, even used as fuel for certain spells or meals. So it could be seen that salt-mines were quite important no matter what region you were currently in.
Because Everything is Bury was undoubtedly a challenging game, one that befits the benefits gained from playing it. If infinite revivals (albeit with consequences depending on the circumstance) didn't exist in the game, very few people would be able to raise their 'Tier.'
Hell, it was still improbable. That was why any advantage was a good one, and the average Participant had a devil may care attitude towards the Inhabitants.
They were dummies, insignificant patsies that offered quests, rewards, artifacts, maybe even a deathdeities' favor! They were simply NPCs to profit and prosper from, which was why they were treated with less care than even a cruel person would treat a dog.
That was why the first level wasn't what would come to mind first to a Participant--no. Instead, it would be the crooks that inhabit the lower floors, the true owners of the prosperous beginner area.
The second floor was the Duster's Brink. Killers who couldn't give less of a shit about their alignment were around every corner, the whole area stained by the smell of cheap liquor and decaying viscera. The railings along the inner sides circling the depression were lined with salt as a warning to the various types of the dead.
A warning that CCW-Stemmer would only allow his designated people to descend the Stairs of Waste, reaching his floor.
The Cradle's Outer Rim. The lowest level in Swillberg and yet the highest in quality. The types of luxury offered in the area were but dust to the diamonds provided by the Carbuncles back on Blue Pangea, yet it was a homely display of status and wealth amongst those who couldn't even reach 'Tier' 1.
It had a dreary, almost dystopian atmosphere that screamed the term junkpunk. The least worn-down of the levels, it was industrial yet comfortable, like a warehouse lined with felt.
Here was where the most dangerous of the Malicious alignment of The Wettened Woods gathered, all surrounding one Justiciar. The missions proffered up to the crooks in the Duster's Brink were all decided by the makeshift assassins here.
In this place, where worn street posts leaned over as if sagging under the weight above them, a woman with striking pink hair and a cutesy face sat alongside a relatively handsome man with brown hair that was level to the tip of his nose.
They were surveying a retro-style projector, displaying a failed mission. The same one as Teret's.
Hoara grit her teeth and ground them together in a fury while Stemmer looks more intrigued than anything. As rubble fell past his pinstriped suit and plinked off of his rusty-looking throne, he arched a brow.
"How long has it been? Hao."
"It's Hoara, boss...well, it's been two days."
"Then how is it failed, Hao. Didn't you give the bastard a whole week?"
"...You see the screen just as I do, idiot..."
Hoara mumbled under her breath, and Stemmer's head swiveled as his hair wildly whipped. A somehow holy feeling was evoked by the mortisim he knowingly emitted, the energy intrinsic to those within Everything is Bury.
To a Malicious like her, it sent a shiver down her spine and the taste of acrimonious disgust up her tongue.
Yet Stemmer was stronger than her, which was why he could remain as the mayor of Swillberg. With his holy clasped grip, he controlled every inch of the happenings of the floors, knowing all that passed his walls.
How could a lowly assistant ever bite the hand of her master? She couldn't even hope to find a Ritual Tamer to garner the help of the Husks, as The Wettened Woods only hosted lowlier forms of many supernatural creatures. Vampire thralls were more common than their lords, werewolves within the area were but whelps, and the zombies were naught but brainless buffoons.
This was to say even less of the insects and maggots that crawled along the finger-shaped grass, serving as no less but a snack to an avaricious grub muncher.
Stemmer had a cocky yet controlling gaze in his tightened gaze, a smirk blooming up the sides of his face. It was as if to dare her to do something, simultaneously riling Hoara up and calling her bluff.
Unable to meet his intimidating stare any longer, she turned her head as veins went bulbous with thrashing blood. A cold snicker rang behind her turned direction.
(...How pathetic), Stemmer thought. Tapping the chair as a dull sound ticked away like the hands of a clock, he seemed to be pondering something.
How exactly would he send a message? If the masked figure was a simple Chthonic Vessel in race, he could burgle and sell off their organs. If it was a zombie, he could easily fry their brain, which would have a lasting debuff on their revitalized body.
Or, if it was really a skeleton...well. How could you torture a creature with no perception of pain? What lasting debuffs could he inflict upon it, preventing them from moving further up in this beautiful game?
These were the thoughts that rushed through this 'just's' man's head, his fingers arching up into fine crescents from the excitement. Stemmer wasn't a man who was high up the ladder in real life, and ever since the E.E consoles appeared, he had been given a chance to savor new flavors of life that would've never crossed his palate.
And he was smitten with punishing those that disobeyed his orders, very much engulfed by the ardor of control indeed. If he was back in reality, the cravings he produced would have been greedily slurped up by the engulfing vortexes of the Carbuncles.
This was a callous man indeed. Unlike another callous man who used his own caprices to the benefit of those he favored or cherished, Stemmer had no particular goals or rules for his actions. He took what he wanted, and all he wanted was to dominate.
Hoara stirred on the ruined pillar that served as her seat, apprehension gripping her like the jaws of a python. From the center of Stemmer's middle trapezius, his Deadman's Stigma shone as squares composed of jade flew out from the pattern.
...
Back in a side area of The Wettened Woods, there stood a board. Chalk carved from the pathways stood out in Walker's hand, the man drawing various images on this blackboard as his sandstone hair floated.
Teret sat utterly still, his visible spine as straight as a pylon. Did he understand what his master was teaching him?