Something solid, pea-sized, lingered at the end of his throat. He swallowed his saliva repeatedly to force it down, gulping several times, but the lumpy feeling remained. After much dedication to this throat issue, he started feeling a coppery tang at the tip of his tongue, sharp and a little nauseating. He recognized that taste, though he didn't know how.
Had he eaten a copper wire before?
Or was it just blood on his tongue? Had he bitten his tongue accidentally? No, blood tastes like iron, not copper. He knew that.
That was one sense malfunctioning... Time to try the next.
So, he sniffed.
But the air smelled of a ridiculously large variety of substances, or feelings... or, still, nausea.
The first to hit him was an awful acrid smell, acidic and pungent, and it threatened to take his breath away should he inhale once more. But he did, and he was still alive for the next round.
Another choking smell made a home run—pungent, deadly. This time, it was a thick smoke that reeked of burnt... wire.
Did he have a deal with wires?
He tasted wire, perceived wire... That was two sense organs in the bin. They must be malfunctioning, because there was just no way in hell he was going through all that weirdness in some dazed state.
Should I try my sight?
No, ears next.
All he heard was the sound of what seemed to be a steel-hard boot stepping on jawbreakers—a kind of hard candy that makes the loudest noise when your teeth work on it.
Oh, that didn't sound like wires.
Until he heard a "crack" and a "whoosh," and what sounded like something or someone being beaten with... a wire.
I'm going nuts.
Let me feel around. I hope I don't touch a wire. For heck's sake, I bet I do.
But he only grabbed thin air. He didn't know if his hands had even moved. This scared him.
Grabbing a wire would have unhinged him, but grabbing nothing almost made him shit his pants. Was he alone? He loved being lonely, but he hated being alone. That was a wild preference or way of thinking, but that was just him.
Also, the position he was in wasn't comfortable in the very least. His head felt three times bigger, as all his blood seemed to flow up there. Gravity was meant to pull at his feet, but he couldn't feel his long hair on his face. Was he in space? In a zero-gravity zone, like he was taught by some loose-nut teacher?
Pushing away the fear, he was however glad he didn't grab a wire. He feared he'd have screamed should he feel something long and thin and rubbery in his hands. But what was certain?
He didn't even know if he existed. What was he? Was he just a memory? Hazy, lingering like a thick fart in the pants of a silent bomber? Was he something created from a thought? Perhaps from the ever-expanding fantasy of an adventurous kid? Was someone watching him on a screen now, rewinding and forwarding his existence, tweaking the hell out of his being?
Wait, a screen...
Screen... SCREEN!
He flicked his eyes open instantly, almost busting his lids to shreds. He'd forgotten about the screen. It took a while for his vision to focus, but when it did, believe it or not, he saw... wires.
Or ropes? Or twigs? Natural... thick, coiling in and out of his vision. He felt one move slowly, like a rubbery finger cupping his lower face in a comely but threatening manner.
He screamed. "Aaaaaaaaa!"
Crazed for a little moment, he flapped his hands violently, trying to break free from the twigs that had embraced him gravely. He tried to follow the maniacal motion with his legs too, but they were following an entirely different story in a different timeline of their own.
His legs had practically been snatched off him, held and bound tightly by the twigs; he couldn't even succeed in moving them an inch. The two legs lay up there, still part of his body but less obedient to his control, completely covered by the ever-moving natural ropes.
And, as he had felt before he opened his eyes, he was indeed hanging upside down.
Searching the dark area with his eyes—the only part of him which could still move—he realized he was caught in a thicket, if this could classify as a thicket. It was more or less a willow tree, stupendously large and tall. He could see two moons—wait, two?!—dimly from the little spaces left by the branches, and he knew he must be at least 30 feet from the ground.
One of the moons was regular, silvery and crescent-shaped, partially engulfing a bright star in its space. The other moon had an orange glow, full and looking very sharp at the edges. It looked more like a large flat circle rather than spherical and planet-like.
'Tch.'
He was amazed how he seemed worried about the moon despite the situation he was in. The tree had succeeded in securing his arms too, and all that was left in his control was his stomach, which moved up and down as he breathed heavily, and his eyes, which were ever searching.
But what was there to search for? He was entrapped, and he might even start believing in miracles if he managed to survive this... this... carnivorous plant.
'Yes, it's a flesh eater, 'cause I don't know why you're grabbing me like that if not to eat.'
Suddenly, he heard the faint sound of... again, a steel-hard boot stepping against jawbreakers, coming from over his head. He was worried about whatever was moving in the air, making that hell of a noise, then he remembered he was not obeying gravity like a normal human.
'They are moving from below. There are people here. Maybe they can help.'
So, he yelled. A throat-wretching cry, but what use was his throat if a tree was going to eat him.
"Help! I'm stuck up here!"
"Help!"
Then the loud stepping sounds stopped. Maybe the walker had just taken a grassy path that silenced his steps, or the hard ground had just run out of jawbreakers.
Eric waited, silent, his heavy breath the only sound reaching him in the tree.
'Uh-oh. Guess they left. I'd leave too if I heard a bitch-ass cry for help like that. Who knows if–'
Flash
SLASH!
He saw a bright silvery arc fly towards his face, cutting the thick branches in its way, slicing easily as if they were nothing but fresh hot loaves of bread. He snapped his eyes shut, scared his neck was going to be the next loaf. Waiting for a while, he realized his senses were still connected. Maybe his loaf was stale after all and had grown some surface-level resistance to the baker's knife.
'I belong in the bin.'
Suddenly, a branch snapped noisily, disrupting the still, cold night. He dropped, falling.
"Aaaaaaaaaa!"
He saw a torch flashing up at him, and surrounding it were three figures standing with some lustrous materials in their hands, waiting.
'There are people. They will save me from falling to my death. They will...'
"Aaaaaaa!"
But he continued falling, and none of the figures moved an inch to save him from splattering on the hard ground.
His eyes widened as the ground zoomed up to welcome him. It was a cold, hard, stony welcome.
CRASH!
It turns out the floor wasn't full of jawbreakers, but was made entirely of cobblestones.
He felt his skull crack open, and he would even bet there was a gap that allowed the free entry of the cold night air.
He'd place an even higher stake on broken ribs, smashed legs, an escaped kidney, and one of his balls relocating to join the other.
'Why is a forest floor that cold and hard?'
'I guess this world took 'concrete jungle' literally.'
But...
[!HOST HAS TAKEN CRITICAL DAMAGE!]
[HP: 1/10]
[FIND A HEALER TO HEAL YOU QUICKLY]
[OR KEEP PUT AND SUFFER A SLOW, PAINFUL RECOVERY]
'Oh, you're still there? I thought it was schizophrenia when I remembered hearing those voices in my head.'
[FIND A HEALER]
'Why did you leave me there? Hanging on a damn tree?'
[What Was I Supposed To Do? Fight The Tree For You?]
[FIND A HEALER]
'How the hell do I find a healer when I can't even move my shattered legs?'
[Beats Me]
Just then, a different voice spoke.
"Tsk tsk. I knew he was 'challenged' when I heard that cry," a harsh, deep masculine voice sounded. It reminded Eric of a baritone singer who was also a chain smoker. He sounded like he used mints to smooth the guttural edge of his voice. He sounded like a lot of things, but mostly, he sounded annoying. "You shouldn't have bothered saving him from the tree. He was gonna die anyway."
'If you had moved to save me, it wouldn't have turned out this bad, you fucking narc,' Eric thought while lying still, dealing with the sharp stabs of pain that ravaged his head and belly. His shattered leg was the least of his worries now.
Two other figures moved in, leaning over to take a good look at the apparently dead boy. One was a female, the other a male and they both seem about the same age. Eric could tell their gender even when they haven't spoken yet. At least, he already took a quick glance at the three of them when he was falling.
"Well, it's a no-brainer that he's a challenged. Otherwise, he wouldn't be caught up there by a low-tier carni-willow tree, squirming and screaming in such high pitch," the younger male remarked, circling Eric, still curious. "It's a pity he's dead. We coulda asked him how he got there. There's no way he could have survived that fall. What do you think, Winter?"
The female shrugged, adjusting the loose strands back into the white red band that held her snow-white overflowing hair in a ponytail. She swung a soul weapon idly in her hand, appearing unbothered about the squirm before them. But she was. She has stopped the group after hearing his cry of help, and had even ran with an insane burst of speed halfway up the tree before unleashing her soul weapon, a sickle to cut the thick branches that held him captive.
"Well, there's something else intriguing about him. I can still feel a strange aura around him, and it's waxing strong even when he is lying there, completely shattered."
"What? You mean this squirm is still alive after that fall?"
"Yes. And he's healing faster than you can imagine, Summer."
The rough-voiced man cut in. "What a prize. What is his tier? What piece is he? Did ya check yet?"
"You're not gonna believe this, Bux," said Winter, looking perplexed and trying to withhold what information she had to give. "I can't check his system."
"Does that mean he's one of the unborn pieces? You mean he doesn't have a system like the rest of us?"
"No, Bux. He has a system, but...he's rejecting my intrusion."
"What?!" Summer, the young male grunted, bending even closer as if he could tell just from looking. As if what Winter said could be confirmed from Eric's face. "But nobody has the ability to resist system inspection from an SS-ranked Mage like you, Winter. Are you sure of what you just spewed?"
"Don't think you can question my judgement just because you're my brother, Summer. Bux, do you think this is an anomaly? Or is there any being recorded to carry such powers from the history books?"
"None that I know of, Winter. We must get him to the guild with us. Such power hiding behind a frail body shouldn't be allowed to roam freely among our folks. We must get rid of him."
"I'm intrigued," she muttered while she kept her weapons in an invisible space. The glimmering blade slowly disappeared till the hilt was swallowed and it was completely vanished. "Summer, you've been idle all through this journey. He's all yours to heave. Now you won't go venturing into the woods, trailing off track again."
Summer grumbled but carried Eric's limp body easily on his shoulder. They all continued down the hard road silently.
Eric was however trying to piece the bits together, but failed. He had received notifications from the system, asking if he'd like to reject or accept the system inspection from a certain high ranking mage. He had chosen Reject of course, but that had utterly surprised the crew, and now he's to be delivered as a test subject.
'That kinda hard luck needs to be studied.'
'Hey, system. Care to explain everything about this Snow-born girl?'
[I Can't. She's However an SS-ranked Mage Just Like You Heard, So It's Hard To Check Her System]
'What do you mean her system? Does she have a system too? Isn't the system unique to me?'
[Your SYSTEM Is Unique To You. But Hers Isn't Unique To Her. There Are Others Who Have Similar Systems To Hers]
'THERE ARE OTHERS WITH SYSTEMS ALSO?!'
[Yes!]
'Even the Summer boy? The brusque Bux? Everyone?'
[Well Not Everyone, Eric. You Heard Bux Talk About "Unborn Pieces". Those Beings Do Not Come With a System, But They Are Basically Outcasts In This World]
[You Are In a System World]
'Aw, man. I feel like my second kidney just walked out of me.'
*Chime!*
[AN SS-RANKED MAGE SYSTEM IS TRYING TO CHECK YOUR STATS]
[ACCEPT?]
[REJECT?]
'C'mon. Reject that shit. Cut that prying latch off.'
Winter smiled knowingly. She's been rejected the third time.
"This is gonna get interesting," she mumbled, widening her smile into a grin.