Chapter 3: Chapter 3 - The Fall
The two carcasses lay before me, their lifeless eyes staring upward, glassy and unblinking. I stood above them, the gnawing ache in my abdomen unrelenting.
It twisted and turned, spreading like a fire within. Saliva welled in my mouth unbidden, pooling against my teeth, this body acting of it’s own accord in ways I did not understand.
I crouched low, resting a hand on one of the badgers’ limp forms. My regenerative gift had mended crushed bones, punctured lungs, and shredded muscles without hesitation. But this? This seemed to be beyond its ability to mend.
And though its intensity was so low it couldn’t compare to all that I’d just endured, my wiring seemed to give great priority to it.
For several long moments, I resisted. Then I gave in.
My fingers dug into the coarse fur, then deeper, gripping flesh. With a single pull, I tore the limb from its socket, sinew and bone separating with a wet crack. Blood gushed from the wound, hot and pungent.
My hand tightened around the limb, raising it, without flinching, to my mouth. My jaw opened. My teeth sank into raw flesh.
The taste was repulsive. Metallic. Foul. My throat constricted, bile surging to the back of my mouth. My body screamed at me to stop, to spit it out, to reject it at once. But my mind, my logic, was louder.
It does not have to taste good. It is fuel. Nothing more.
So I chewed. I swallowed, and when the meat slid into my stomach, the fire in my abdomen dimmed slightly. The system gave me no confirmation, but I could tell it was working.
I continued without pause. Muscle, tendon, fat, my teeth ripped through it all, hands working methodically to strip the creature of everything consumable. And the more I ate, the more the ache in my abdomen receded, replaced by an even stranger sensation: satisfaction.
But when I reached for one of the organs, a liver, perhaps, my throat gagged in anticipation. My stomach lurched.
I commanded obedience, but my body rejected the order utterly.
Why?
I tried again, forcing the slippery, dark brown mound of flesh toward my lips. My hands shook with effort, but my body refused. A low growl of frustration escaped me. I did not understand this limitation. Was it a defect? Or a safeguard?
Regardless, the pain in my abdomen was gone. That was enough. My hands and mouth were coated in drying crimson.
I stood, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, and walked to the edge of the platform. I scanned downward. The next landing was far, about forty feet. My furthest leap yet.
Calculations churned in my mind: distance, angle, momentum. I took several steps back, inhaled, and launched myself forward. But as I pushed off the edge, the ground below me crumbled.
My balance shattered, pitching forward headfirst as I tumbled into open air. The wind was deafening as I plummeted, the platform I’d been aiming for hurtling by in a flash of stone.
There was no recovery. No adjustment I could make. Only the accelerating inevitability of the bottom.
Impact came with an explosive crunch as my head collapsed into itself, and then, there was nothing but a silent darkness.
-----------------------------------------
When awareness returned, it was not pain that greeted me, but motion.
The world swayed beneath me, rocking gently left and right. My eyes opened slowly. Above me stretched the night sky, stars wheeling gently across my vision.
I blinked, trying to focus. But my efforts were only met with a massive dump of System Prompts that only served to disorient me even further.
[You have shattered 150 of the 206 bones in your body]
[You have ruptured 5 of the 78 organs in your body]
[You have pulverized 69 of the 78 organs in your body]
[You have collapsed 4 of the 78 organs in your body]
[You have...]
...
Many, many, many more prompts that detailed my injuries materialized in the air before me, but they were soon replaced by more welcome ones.
[Host’s [Impact Resistance] has increased greatly : x25]
[The Skill [Impact Resistance II] has been upgraded to [Impact Resistance III] ]
[The Skill [Impact Resistance III] has been upgraded to [Impact Resistance IV] ]
[The Skill [Impact Resistance IV] has been upgraded to [Impact Resistance V] ]
[The Skill [Impact Resistance V] has been upgraded to [Impact Resistance VI] ]
[The Skill [Impact Resistance VI] has been upgraded to [Impact Resistance VII] ]
Only then did it truly register in my mind,
I... survived.
I tried to regain my bearings. The wheeling night sky above me indicated I was moving. My fingers searched the ground I lay upon. It was soft. Fabric? Leather?
My eyes adjusted further, and with them, my hearing.
The sounds were muffled at first, but as my hearing adjusted further, they were unmistakably the echoes of voices.
"...damn beetles don’t stop. Every season, their numbers surge. I doubt the outpost will last the season, and if this rate persists, even the settlement won’t be safe."
It was a man’s voice, rough and deep, coming from ahead.
Another answered, sharper, female, from right behind me. "That’s why we’re here, Gerard. They’re getting more aggressive for a reason. We need to figure out why, and if we are able, cut it at its root."
A third voice chimed in from the left, lighter but edged with wariness. "Assuming we live long enough to find it in the first place. Helegad says a Disaster-Class leads them, and by Lysha’el, if there really is one, I’ll be the first to run! I won’t fall to Gorge-Beetle of all things."
Their banter continue as I listened. I tilted my head, straining to see. Shapes framed against the sky came into focus. Two figures walked ahead, one burly and broad-shouldered, and the other to his left, was tall and lean.
The big one was Gerard. His build suggested strength honed through years of labor, or battle. The lean one was Arthur, his bow strapped across his back. An archer.
Gerard’s gruff voice interjected, "That Old croon will be the end of you, Arthur. Helegad isn’t right very often."
"Ah but she is right when it counts." replied Arthur, with a little too much satisfaction.
The woman behind me chuckled back, "Says the one that can’t count."
She was striking — red hair, green eyes, strong features, a lean, balanced form, and undisguised confidence.
"That was ONE time Freya! I was drunk!"
A fit of quiet laughter echoed out into the darkness.
I remained silent, listening. Words washed over me, details about Gorge-Beetles — enormous burrowing insects, armored and ravenous, whose sudden aggression had driven this party into the ravine. So the lights I saw on the surface before... their settlement. Humans, gathered, surviving.
I felt... out of place. Their voices were natural, flowing, carrying tones of camaraderie and frustration. I had never spoken. Not once, since awakening. What would I even sound like?
The stretcher shifted slightly, and I realized the woman — Freya — was staring down at me. Her eyes caught mine in the dark, glimmering with recognition.
"Well, well," she said with a grin. "Our guest finally wakes. Been listening this whole time, have you?"