"It seems like I'm on an island. A big one at that. And I think that I am the light blue arrow here. Hmm... And this little blue stuff is a lake I take it? Well, whenever there's water there's people. Let's hope they're good ones"
With his bearings found, and a sense of direction being established, he had a rough idea of what it is that he should do.
"Away we go!!"
He exclaimed as he brushed off whatever rags he was wearing. He took a closer look into his clothing and he realized he was dressed like a slave at best.
"This won't do!" He shook his head as he looked around the corpses for something that fit his size. After rummaging through them here and there, he found a corpse wearing relatively comfier clothing.
"Dead men tell no tales." he said before striping the dead boy out of his clothing and changing into them. He then dressed the body with his own rags, out of courtesy. Not that it would be of any help.
He looked for more items that would help him out before heading out. Things a weapon and an armor or a shield of any type. Which was a daunting task as he had no expertise in this field.
That's when he thought of studying his skills.
'[Status Window]' He thought. And, again, his info was displayed right in front of him. Then he clicked on the skills that he thought had any relevance in the matter.
[Skill/Exclusive - Gaze]
- Allows the user to detect all sources of heat, electricity and mana.
- MP: 5
- Cast time: 5 min
- Cool-down: 10 sec
[Skill/Exclusive - Scan]
- Allows the user to search for any and all sources of injury or ailments on a target.
- MP: 5
- Cast time: 5 min
- Cooldown: 10 sec
"Not much to go by. But still, [Gaze]."
The word left his lips like a breath, but resounded like thunder. It sounded like his voice was edited. Like those equalizer setting called 'base boost' and such were increased, but for his voice. Like the very word was uttered by a different, higher being.
In that instant, mana stirred—not around him, but within him. It was subtle at first, like the sensation of a muscle tensing beneath the skin. Then came the surge. A pressure built behind his eyes, as though invisible threads were weaving behind his vision—delicate, unseen, but unmistakably precise.
There were no grand gestures, no etched runes or glowing circles. Yet, something shifted. His eyes prickled, a motes of stardust lined the inner surface of his pupils. The air grew heavier, charged with a weightless energy he hadn't noticed before. A faint shimmer veiled the world, like the glint of oil on water.
And then—the veil lifted.
Everything around him seemed to breathe mana. The still corpses, the broken weapons, the shattered earth—each pulsed with a spectral mirage. Colorless, formless currents danced across surfaces like heat waves rising from desert sand, yet there was no warmth.
It was as though he'd peeled back a layer of reality. The whole world was a monotone of black and white, with shades of gray. Like it was a canvas drawn by charcoal. Rough and crude.
Certain items gleamed like stars behind fog—dense with power. A dagger, half-buried under a body with pointed ears, shimmered cold and sharp, radiating frost that clouded the air around it with ashen-pale, dry mist.
A small distance away, a pair of gauntlets rested in the arms of a bloodied form, their outlines flickering like embers, as if they were forged from a fire that refused to die.
The dagger was under the corpse of an elven warrior covered in bruises and cuts all over its body. One eye was missing as the other looked up as if seeking salvation from a god.
"So this is an elf huh?" He took the belt and fastened it around his waist. And then went for the gauntlets.
"I wonder if they'd fit." He remarked as he tried them on and to his surprise, the massive gauntlets adjusted themselves to his tiny little hands.
"Now that's magic!" He said as he inspected his hands with a wide grin on his face. And all of a sudden, his vision came back to its normal again.
"!!!"
"..."
"Must have run out of time. Hmm... This will get tedious, however... [Gaze]"
He reactivated his skill. And began looking for an armor or a shield that'd help protect him, but to no avail. All he could find was a leather chest plate with a faint hue emanating from it.
He looked around the desolate battleground. Nothing but eerie silence and the howling of the winds.
"Not even scavengers are around." He noticed as a shudder shook his small frame. He rubbed his palms together before covering himself with a hooded robe he took from an elder's corpse.
"Please be safe, O people of the lake! And kind... And pushovers."
He whispered to himself and made his way. One cautious step at a time.
...
The lab they resided in had been shrouded by the covers of absolute silence, aside from the few bubbling, popping and hissing of the colorful fluids.
The entire place was dimly lit. Lit by the faint glow of the aqua ceiling from above, along with the lights coming from the different fluids in the flasks and vials. One would mistake the plae for some club of a unique theme.
There was calm and peace in the rhythmic sound of the lab. If not for the thundering shouts echoing from within.
"Curses! CURSES!!"
The plan had failed, and miserably so!! The plan was made with utmost care. Alternative routes were considered, in case of failure. Resources were procured, and in abundance at that. Everything that could go wrong was anticipated. But still...
"EVERYTHING WENT WRONG!!!! WHY?! WHY!? WHY!? WHY!? WHY!?"
Enter Berom Otto Skanz.
An old man wearing a unique robe set that indicated that he is an elite magician. With a long grey beard that reached his knees, he'd have looked like a wise wizard from a fantasy setting, if not for the hysteria.
Old man Berom yelled as he yanked his subordinate back and forth violently. This was supposed to be Berom's chance. His last break!
Ever since that accursed day he was falling out of favor in front of the Lord and losing his footing in the Order. The once 'Great Wizard of Doom Berom Otto Skanz' was no more.
Breaking every single rule there is about the privacy and security of their Order, he gambled with his very soul on the line. Had the plan worked out, not only would he gain the Lord's favor, but he might also become the second in command, taking her place.
But now that it all failed, not only is he now the world's number one enemy, which he'd have taken pride in, but he also got a target on his back from the Order itself.
He knew how they did their bidding. He was a member for five decades!! They'd first get rid of him and then paint him out to be the villain, which he was, cutting up any loose ends that might point fingers their way.
"I know no better than you master!!" The subordinate lowered his head to hide his glare of contempt.
'It was your blasted plan!! Why ask me!?!?' Arkam thought to himself, cursing at his luck for ending up being where he was now. 'If only I had been under a competent superior. No, if only I was under a sane one. I would not have been here!!' He cursed his luck while holding back his tears.
Once someone is taken in by a member of the Order, they are bound by them for life. And branded with an insignia that made them absolutely obedient to the marker's every order. He would have blamed it on the insignia if he didn't know the Order any better.
But now that it has come to this, there's no turning back. They couldn't make it like it was the other's fault. No one would care. They'd both be punished. And come said punishment, it would be a fate far worse than death. A one that makes them beg for it. All they could do was one thing...
SIGH~
"Fine!!" Berom said, digging his long ashen nails in Arkam's shoulders. Looking him dead in the eyes he said, "The last resort it is!"
...faking their deaths.