Blinking against the morning light glaring straight at him, a sense of fatigue washed over Mael.
His eyes fell at the place he'd pushed off. Four planks of the shed were split, the earth beneath it carrying the deep prints of his hands and feet.
The sight sent an almost unbearable ache through his body.
His gaze then sat on the corpse. Eventually a weak, childlike voice was let out.
"What a way to start the day..."
Mael's face contorted in disgust.
Brushing aside the alienation his voice caused, a few pieces of dirt and grime had seeped inside his mouth the second he spoke. A certain foul staleness he realized only now had coated his tongue.
Along with an uncomfortable soreness making him feel as if he couldn't move, Mael's two minutes of being awake already started off wrong.
A menu popped up.
[You overextended last night, you can actually move pretty easily, and you didn't choose #4's talent. That's somewhat affecting your performance right now.]
Mael's groggy eyes opened wide.
[Also, you kind of exaggerated things, y'know? Using a bomb in a place where only a poke was needed is overkill, not even #5 did that.]
His left eye twitched.
"Why didn't you come out earlier?"
[You didn't ask + It's better to wait.]
Somewhat reasonable. Had he seen anything this thing would've said, he most likely wouldn't have listened at all without until he used all his iterations.
"Are you active at all in the simulations?"
[I can see what you see but though if I try to see things beyond your point of view, it'll count as interactions.]
Sighing, Mael took a very appreciative note of that, then waltzed up to the corpse before him and dragged it out by its foot.
Walking out of the shed's glade and into the forest's tapestry, he let his mind drift as the module guided him.
With several turns, he found himself right before a sinkhole with the approximate size of eight people.
"Huh."
An intense, delirious feeling passed by Mael.
His mind conjured up various thoughts and scenarios in an instant before forcefully curbing them down. Cultivating a mindset like that in this time and space is extremely foolish.
Though a word got unbiddenly brought up.
God.
Mael grabbed the money bag hidden underneath the body's clothes and kicked the corpse into the sinkhole.
He wanted to leave out some sort of prayer, a bow maybe. But his face quickly shifted into a sneer as he spat at it.
There was another nasal sigh. Kicking a corpse, that's obvious, he's not trying to spend a second longer holding that thing. Spitting at it wasn't the plan though, that wasn't something he'd normally do.
[Aeternus]'s description was an unending and inexhaustible will, based on what's seen, the flawed version only removes a limit on where things collapse.
If his behavior isn't due to a natural snapping incident then it must be the residues coming from #5, or an odd mix of both #4 and #5.
Now the question is whether to revel in it or not. Evidence has shown that this world is unnaturally cruel, so taking a bit of advice from an imperceptible malice is surely—
[A horrible idea.]
He was already going to figure that out by himself!
Likely in less than an hour when he realizes there's nothing to direct that malice towards other than a beaten-up carcass.
If he deduces a little bit, the main residue must've been #5. Going further, he must've known that diving into his memories before reaching any sense of safety was a poor idea. So, he didn't.
Memories correlate to thoughts; #5 chose not to think at all. By refusing to think, he failed to notice the abnormalities around him. By the time he did, he had already reached a DEAD END.
What a big mistake.
From Mael's own understanding, [Advanced Hyperthymesia] is a talent. Talents grow dynamically, sometimes exponentially. Unless he truly wants it, his Hyperthymesia won't automatically trap him in an infinite negative feedback loop.
With his mental state, that's a loop which only happens if he allows it, or if he cultivates it.
To prove that, Mael has been revisiting the worst moments of his life repeatedly. With all of them coming out as several precise reports.
Incidentally, there was a captivating 'switch' that could make him indulge in the emotional aspect of the report.
A novel experience, now why didn't the module say anything to #5?
[I can't talk or show myself in any way during those simulations.]
The screen blinked out. Mael shrugged and continued walking back to his shed.
Taking a seat right next to the entrance of his shed, a plan got formed.
Interacting with people is a chore. Having to look or be looked at by others in his current state is resentful. The residues also makes any form of interactions unadvised.
Why wouldn't it be better to stay home? To not deal with any of that in the slightest.
He can forgo his psychological need for food and water for a couple of days in order to build an almost invincible capital.
Theoretically with what he knows about his [Physique] he should be able to comfortably last 10-20 days without drinking or eating.
In the meantime, if he still doesn't want to go in the village, unlikely as it may be. Mael could try his hand at hunting or learn how to start a fire with no tools.
[Don't do that. Go to the village, find work, and get something to eat.]
A poor suggestion.
"See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil."
On that basis, he argued with the module—an argument that somehow went on for hours.
Every time Mael thought he'd reached a point, the module circled back, correcting himself, itself, clarifying and reiterating.
"Stop that, I don't want to, so I won't!"
There was a wince, more grime and dirt got inside his mouth.
[At the very least you can enter the place you were born in. You can't hole yourself up in a broken shed. If you decide to, the points I spent on the achievements section is going to be wasted.]
"What?"
Mael stared at the screen for a minute.
Sugarcoating things to this extent and only mentioning the rewards now. Did this thing have an actual personality, trying to connect somehow? Or was this behavior done to 'maximize' helpfulness?
Everything has been so, so coy in its operation recently…
Yet it's not a concern, he still won't enter the village. A day would pass like that, and a new iteration would arrive.
"Do you have an actual name I could call you other than 'intelligence module'? Do you want to use my name?"
[Oh, I have been waiting for this!]
The text screen shifted in an instant, reforming into a chibi, dark-skinned girl dressed in a traditional maid outfit.
A speech bubble popped from her mouth, the words forming gradually instead of appearing all at once.
[Call me Anora!]
Mael frowned.
"Why are you a girl?"
[Blame yourself. You associate things like 'helpfulness' with women. I'm just a personification of that.]
It thumped its chest out and lifted it high.
It was slightly endearing, but very concerning. If this kept up, his self-imposed isolation might leave him playing with dolls made from his own personality.
He let that idea fade away.
"The people who killed #5, could you draw out their faces for me?"
Anora appeared behind him, drifting forward until she floated into his line of sight. A trail of flaking crystals was left in her wake. A blank and unblinking stare was fixed on Mael.
More strange antics. It's not like he could act on anything anyways; there's no need for such theatrics.
Anora disappeared, replaced by a gallery of 97 faces, each kept in its own picture frame. Mael continuously scrolled right, one frame at a time until he saw them all.
The gallery was closed, and time passed.
[Simulation Iterations:
1(Day)
0(Month)
0(Year+)]
[SIMULATION STATUS: ACTIVE
REMAINING ITERATIONS: 0]
[Drawing…..
🏆F+ Level Talent Acquired. 🏆
Talent Name: Innovation]
[Effect: Your ability to come up with workable ideas and solutions is enhanced.]
『Year 1: You confirm the simulation. Anora never responds, no matter how often you call. You enter the village and take whatever work you can. 』
『Year 2: You declared, "I can't spend my life being a dirty wastrel," and decided to focus on chasing material gains for the you outside the simulation. 』
『Year 3: Toothpaste, a toothbrush, and several papers for "know-how." For your life to be complete, these are needed. By the end of the year, you've recreated something close to modern standards. 』
『Year 4: You've mastered the local language. You've come to the solo realization that this life of yours is about to be 'useless' soon.』
『Year 4.5: After months of constantly staring at [This is a simulation], countless thoughts on how to maximize the time you have left kept on appearing and disappearing.
You've come to the conclusion that this backwater kingdom you're living in, needs to be under your rule. 』
『Year 5: To test that conclusion, several villages are wiped out here after. A bunch of rumors about a "Demon Child" spreads. 』
『Year 6: You've built up your own force using acts of coercion and violence, you think you're ready to take over the kingdom now. 』
『Year 7: Internal betrayal, external resistance, it doesn't matter. Under your divine might, the coup easily succeeds. 』
『Year 8: Several cities worth of human blood and forest animals were used to draw rituals you've seen in your past life or ones you've invented. You tried getting access to the supernatural.』
『Year 9: Out of thousands of rituals, only about 3-4 of them actually meant something, but because of your veil, and how you never crossed rank 1, you were ignored. 』
『Year 12: The shed you started your journey in has been rebuilt into a luxurious house that's been stocked and fortified. 』
『Year 13: Your spirit shatters, gets rebuilt, then dragged into the underworld.』
[In order to prevent being detected, this simulation has ended.
Evaluation: [D] Homeowner
There's nothing much to say, you were a bastard.]
[Rewards: A house full of items, food, and water.]
There was no pain. So that made his slightly tense nerves relax. Though instead of that, it was something hollow, like the idea of pain brushing past him but failing to succeed.
It's a strange sensation, but the limitation of a shallow iteration is something to be happy for.
Mael postponed the reward and tried to keep that happy feeling on him for the rest of the day.
[Simulation Iterations:
1(Day)
0(Month)
0(Year+)]
Running out in a hurry, Mael looked back at his shed as he redeemed his reward.
In that single instant, it was gone. What immediately stood in its place was a large, modern-looking wooden house.
Brushing aside the jarring sight, Mael looked at the house with glee!
It was adorned with a porch and steps. #6 had somehow managed to add glass windows—four large ones. Each of them framed in a muntin grid that's spread across the front.
When he looked up, there was another window of the same style that sat just under the roof.
Beautiful!
Though a bit too large in his opinion, but that just meant #6 had stockpiled well.
Unfortunately, after the passing of 3 ticks, the solid house turned transparent. A moment later, it began flickering between the states of being gone, transparent, and solid.
Another simulation was started.
[SIMULATION STATUS: ACTIVE
REMAINING ITERATIONS: 0]
[Drawing…..
🏆F Level Talent Acquired. 🏆
Talent Name: Luck]
[Effect: You're a pretty lucky guy.]
[Year 1-12: This simulation is nearly entirely identical to your 6th.]
[In order to prevent being detected, this simulation has ended.
Evaluation: [D] Evil
The people here treated you almost 10x better than they did for #6. No Idea why you had to go and do all that.]
[Rewards: A house full of items, food, and water.]
Following Mael's prior intent, the reward automatically redeemed itself as the panel closed. His face turned expressionless as his eyes narrowed in on the house.
While he did have a utilitarian mindset that had no interest in sifting through what would essentially repeat what came before; wanting is different from seeing.
The inherent value of his life is… different. Having it reduced to a single sentence is extremely displeasing.
Regardless, the doubts Mael had about whether the simulator belonged to him or was something malignant, disappeared. Once he gets out of this poor place, it seems like he'll need to invest in mental defenses.
Entering his home, what greeted him was a novel sight.
A large, open space dominated by a beautifully crafted table with a warm meal on it. To its left, an enclosed furnace lined with drawers and cabinets were there. At the back, a surprisingly comfortable sofa faced the entrance and the food area, giving him a clear view of the room.
Beside it, a built-in bookshelf fitted precisely to his height held a mix of unknown letters and English books, while the lowest shelves were stacked with blank sheets of paper.
Going back a bit, there were stairs. From its central landing, the stairs branched both upward and downward—the downward path sealed by a metal door. Upstairs was exactly what he would expect; a spacious room, a modern bed, a couple of chairs, and two cases marked #6 and #7.
Downstairs, another metal door was blocking the way, but it only led the way towards a combination of a root cellar and an icehouse.
Mael headed to the bathing area on the main floor, a small room right next to the entrance. Ignoring the already hot water and the neutral mask shaped like King Baldwin's, he washed himself and then donned the black Tang suit that hung on a hook.
Setting the mask on the table, he ate the ready-made food. Soon after, a day passed.
[Iterations: 1(Day)]
Staring absentmindedly at the mask on the table, extreme bouts of nervousness assailed him.
There was practically no point in continuing the simulations—he'd keep getting F-rank talents without any new information. Then there's how he'll be plunging 'himself' into an unknown environment just so he can feel safe.
None of this sits right with him, so he can only choose three options.
One, is to go at it blind. His physique has been nearing tier one for a while so even if that entire village decides to assault him, he should be able to get out pretty easily.
[Or two, you could ask me.]
Anora had appeared right on his shoulder at an unknown time,
[There's no one in that village is going to accost you, nor try to assault you in any way. In your standards, they'll actually be pretty amicable.]
It vanished after saying that, which begged the question—should he keep referring to it as 'it'? He knew it was a personification of all his womanly traits. A woman likely wouldn't appreciate being called 'it.'
Mael gave a small shrug.
Donning the mask, he stepped out of the house, crossed the glade, then reached a dirt road stretching left and right. After a brief pause, he chose the path to the right.
Soon, the road widened at the edge of a village.
A flimsy attempt at a gate stood, acting more of a fence meant to keep livestock from wandering off. From where he stood, rows of houses stretched ahead; some stone, a few brick, but most wood. Farmhouses, a mill, and small gardens filled the gaps between them.
Mael's back straightened, his chin tilting up as his gait grew more deliberate.
[First Settlement: Year Iteration +1]
People had been watching him warily before he even entered. From a distance, Mael's stature was distinct, but all they could make out was a black figure steadily approaching.
It's only when he got closer did that wariness turn into fear.
Clad in a black Tang suit with silver embroidery, the cascade of his hair lent an unspoken regality to his presence. By itself, that wasn't an issue, it was the mask that unsettled them.
A child wearing the visage of a ruler; the juxtaposition alone garnered a wide distress.
Unknown visitors had once arrived several times a month. Toward the latter part of the year, their appearances ceased entirely when another esoteric man came.
At the time, they had welcomed him with open arms. Real resistance only came when he ordered that all the children be gathered.
But that resistance left as fast as it came.
It was as if the land itself had shifted. The village of Aksval, once bordering on a full-fledged town, was halved. The outer fields they had plowed were gone, and many men and women had vanished with them. Those who remained from the halved were all children of certain ages.
Of course, once the man got what he wanted, the children of the deceased went to join them. The reason? To "Even things out."
Now came Mael, dressed unlike any before him, moving in a manner eerily similar to that man.
No one dared rush indoors, and the livestock fell strangely silent. Most of the animals only stared at him, as if facing a hidden predator.
Mael eventually stopped before a middle-aged man carrying a basket of buns.
Paying no mind to whatever reaction the man would have, he reached out and took one in the silence. Lifting his mask slightly, he was about to take a bite when his eyes caught the faint smear of dirt along its surface.
From the man's vantage, a faint frown formed along Mael's lower lip.
Mael's arm was suddenly laid neutral. A sharp crack resounded from the air.
The man never saw the movement, nor what became of the bun. His basket slipped from his hands as he fell backward, clutching his mouth, scrambling out a string of near-incomprehensible words.
The only ones Mael could make out were "Sorry," "forgive," and "me."
As for the rest of the man's words, it wasn't that they were truly incomprehensible. Mael's grasp of the language was simply too limited.
This body had never held a proper conversation and had spent most of its life effectively mute. It made him wonder how his simulated self had ever managed to 'ask' for anything without stumbling over the words.
"So… rr… y…" he said.
Mael's uneven pronunciation only made the man more fearful.
As murmurs spread and the foul stench in the air seemed to thicken, Mael stared down at the man for a moment before crouching and placing a few coins into the fallen basket.
Under everyone's fearful gaze, he turned and left. Once he was out of sight, he ran home.