There exist certain THINGS, certain ENTITIES, that roam the Heavens and Earth, particularly at midnight, looking for any unlucky enough to be out in those hours. Nobody knows what they are, or how they came to be; nobody who’s investigated them lived to tell the tale, even the Gods know better than to poke their nose where it doesn’t belong. Understand this: Heaven and Earth have been around for a very, very long time, and few know the true side of it.

  Perhaps this is for the best; the heart doesn’t leap at what the eye cannot see.

  –Excerpt from [REDACTED], by [REDACTED]

  Harry was starting to realize why the Ratkins had placed him in such a dark and silent room; it was a form of torture, one designed to amplify his thoughts until they started consuming him from the inside out.

  It was working, too; the rat’s thoughts never felt so heavy, each one came with the weight of the world behind them, endless and unceasing. They barreled into [Wall], forcing the rat to ask himself all sorts of unpleasant and existential questions that led nowhere.

  Eventually, Harry couldn’t take it anymore and forced himself to try something new: meditation. The rat didn’t know which part of his mind the idea came from, but Harry was immensely grateful.

  Taking a deep breath, the rat closed his eyes and attempted to picture a blank canvas, one free of his heavy and pesky thoughts that raged at the back of his head. That didn’t work, though; they barrelled through any attempt at separating or pushing them back, like unruly children refusing to part with their toy.

  It was frustrating, and Harry wanted to smash his head into the wall and scream in outrage, but the rat’s will was stronger than his base urges, so he controlled himself and prepared to try again.

  The world faded into black once more as the rat closed his eyes, picturing a small canvas of black with the addition of a loop of flowing water this time. Harry tried to make it as realistic as possible, even going as far as to add gravity and sound effects, looping a swishing sound in his head each time the liquid moved about.

  The rat felt himself gradually calming down the more he gazed at the mental construct, until his thoughts came back out of the blue, slamming into his canvas and disrupting any peace Harry managed to gain from it.

  A hiss of pure frustration escaped Harry’s mouth, rapidly transforming into full-blown rage as Harry hammered his frustration into the walls.

  He couldn’t understand why his emotions and thoughts were so unruly all of a sudden. He’d usually never struggle with something such as this, but they’d spiraled out of control ever since he entered this room, granting him no respite.

  Then, the rat paused as it suddenly occurred to him that his behavior was highly unnatural; something was deeply wrong.

  The oddest part was that Harry didn’t feel odd. His mind kept suggesting that he was fine, even when his intuition felt otherwise.

  Harry trusted his intuition above all, so he promptly began searching the room for any abnormalities–he didn’t find any.

  The room was clean; there were no hidden compartments, no strange substances, or anything unusual.

  Seeing that nothing was wrong with the room itself, Harry began inspecting some other things, namely the darkness of the room itself.

  It was thick, almost heavy; the rat knew such a thing couldn’t be natural, and although he couldn’t detect any spirituality. Harry knew that this had to be a supernatural phenomenon.

  Harry activated the [Spiritual sense] trait, eyes glowing with a faint golden light as metaphysical film snapped over them, unveiling the world of spirituality.

  The rat saw faint blobs of golden particles floating about, but not much else; it wasn’t that different from when he observed things from the outside.

  Disappointed, the rat deactivated the trait, shifting his attention to [Thermal vision] as he called upon it fully.

  The near-physical darkness vanished, replaced by a massive and intricate network of heat signatures of varying sizes.

  Harry blinked; he didn’t know what he was looking at, but he felt like it was important. He knew that plants had heat signatures, too, but the ones before him were vastly different from regular plant heat signatures.

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  Individually, they weren’t that impressive, but they were all connected, a seemingly endless number of them, intricately woven into the walls of the room.

  Harry didn’t know why, but he couldn’t help but think of a living animal the longer he gazed at the network of roots, which pumped heat in and out of the room endlessly.

  This was the culprit; Harry had no tangible proof, but his intuition agreed with him, which was all he needed.

  Such an intricate network couldn’t possibly have a sole function; it had to do more than regulate the temperature of the room.

  A part of him was tempted to rip the interior of the walls to shreds to disrupt whatever mechanism behind it, but Harry was worried about the repercussions. What if the Ratkin’s killed him because of that?

  It wasn’t likely, but Harry wasn’t willing to risk his life to test such a theory. For all he knew, there could be thousands of rooms like the ones he was in now, but the rat had no way to truly confirm that.

  It seemed logical, though; this couldn’t be the first time taking a being captive, he couldn’t be the only single captive they had, either.

  The mind behind them—their mother, spoke with great wisdom and intellect; she seemed particularly versed in this sort of thing to Harry.

  It was clear she valued him, likely because he had something he logically shouldn’t, but Harry wasn’t sure; there could be other motives.

  The best thing Harry could do right now was find a way to counter whatever was influencing his body using his mind.

  The rat initially thought it was his mind that was being affected, but [Wall] hadn’t even alerted him, nor did his intuition agree with him, so he ruled out that possibility.

  It was his body that was being affected, not his mind. This confused Harry, though; how could the body influence his thoughts to such an extent yet not reach his mind? Didn’t thoughts come from the mind?

  Logically speaking, if you wanted to affect something deeply, you’d go for the source right, so how was it any different here?

  It was horribly confusing, but Harry had to just accept it; he neither had the time nor mental space to ponder such deep questions.

  The rat took a deep breath, then exhaled, doing his best to push away his mischievous thoughts as he noted the sensations coming from his body.

  The overall temperature of the room was slightly warm, but the floor was somewhat cold. The air had a strange feel to it, too.

  Harry couldn’t quite describe it; it just felt strange, and slightly more than what he was used to–something had been added to it.

  Harry closed his eyes and tuned into his other sensory organs; he wouldn’t need eyes for this.

  His nose wrinkled as he took yet another breath, slowly and carefully this time, as he tried his best to smell everything that was passing through his nose.

  The air smelled fresh, as if it were sourced from outside. Harry knew that to be untrue, though; the air came from the massive and intricate network of roots distributed throughout the room, and some openings on the floor, hence why it was slightly chilly when contrasted with the overall temperature of the room.

  Harry didn’t know much about the workings of the world, but his intuition told him that the air couldn't smell so fresh after going through so many processes unless spirituality was directly involved.

  He barely sensed any in the room, though, so it couldn’t be that, either.

  With all those possibilities ruled out, Harry came to a single conclusion: the freshness was a trick on his senses–artificial.

  The rat suddenly lamented not upgrading [Iron Lungs] further. Harry was sure a stronger version of the trait could’ve prevented such a predicament, even if it didn’t have an upgrade geared toward cleaning what he breathed.

  The lungs already did that, and his power elevated everything fundamentally, so that element would’ve been stronger.

  The only trait he could upgrade was [Dual Heart]. Harry knew that there was a chance of something useful manifesting, but that all depended on his luck, which tended to fluctuate.

  Harry knew that he could probably get away with eating some of the root walls for extra biomass, but didn’t want to do that.

  He had no way of knowing if they were actively observing him, but Harry suspected that they could; anything was possible when spirituality was involved; being cautious wasn’t a bad thing, especially in a situation such as this.

  Harry’s last 100 units of biomass vanished, and his power rumbled through his being, manifesting as the upgrade menu a second later.

  Trait upgraded: Dual Heart (1) → Dual Heart (2)

  Please select an upgrade option:

  -Robust Heart (3): Your heart becomes significantly more resilient, probably because they’ve been listening to [DEF] too much, if you ask me.

  -King’s Engine (3): A powerful and vibrant force takes root within your heart, one befitting of a king.

  -Iron heart (3): The nature of your [Iron teeth] trait made manifest; your hearts will fundamentally shift, transitioning from purely organic to a mix of both worlds, further enhancing their capabilities.

  Harry gazed at the upgrade options; each one was powerful in its own right, but the rat didn’t presently seek power; he needed a way to cleanse himself.

  Of all three, [King’s Engine] seemed best suited for that; Harry knew his power didn’t use unnecessarily most of the time, so the words powerful and vibrant instantly captured his attention.

  The rat selected the upgrade and felt his power boil, transforming into metaphysical mist that seeped into every corner of his existence before traveling into his two hearts, seeping into them.

  Then, Harry felt something explode from the depths of his being, a powerful wave of health and strength surged forth, instantly washing away Harry’s mental and physical fatigue, seeping into every cell in his body, invigorating them.

  Stat unlocked: Vitality

  Steam bellowed from Harry’s mouth and nostrils as he exhaled sharply, trying his best not to feel giddy from the sudden surge of vitality and stamina.

  Harry felt truly healthy for the first time in his life as a rat; the [HP] function existed, but it didn’t fix up lingering illnesses he had before his awakening. When he took damage, it simply restored the damaged part to what it considered Harry’s optimal state.

  Harry’s optimal state was like a solid, but hole-ridden foundation; water wouldn’t have a hard time passing through.

  The advent of the new vitality stat changed all of that; the walls with holes had been torn down and rebuilt from the ground up, then reinforced for good measure.

  This kind of systematic healing rid Harry of any hidden ailments that he might have unknowingly, allowing the rat to be truly healthy and vigorous. An unintended side effect of this was the slight optimization of his body, allowing him to pull greater strength from his stats.

  Not only did the upgrade fix Harry’s problem, but it also fixed a host of other ones the rat didn’t even know existed prior, leaving him feeling quite pleased.

  Harry’s thoughts no longer harassed him when he tried to focus, nor did they interrupt him when the rat tried to meditate.

  With that out of the way, Harry finally had the time and mental capacity to attempt mediation.

  At least that was what the rat thought as he sat down, only to be rudely interrupted by a strange grumbling sound.

  Harry was confused at first, but the Rat quickly identified the source of the sound: his belly.

  He was hungry.