Standing probably just shy of four feet tall, the Cobald’s narrow face and long snout frame a pair of slitted yellow eyes. It’s like a cross between a Gremlin and an alligator, but somehow cuter. Its sharp teeth appear as it offers us a strange expression that is both confident and threatening. He’s wearing some kind of uniform, red with yellow accents that clash harshly with his rocky—or scaly?—skin.
“So,” it says with a voice like a New Jersey accountant shouting through a tinny megaphone. “What do I owe ya?”
“Excuse me?” I ask, feeling my eyebrows contract.
“Ya know, the price? For unbaking my bacon?” No way that is an accurate translation. He looks around between us, confusion and concern growing on his face. “Listen, I get it may be pricey, trust me. And I may not have it, yeah? But my boss is good for it. Fallo Grent. Big guy. You heard of him?”
“Sorry, no.” I close my eyes briefly, feeling another headache forming. The way he speaks is fantastically irritating, and I’ve only heard a few sentences. Grating and high and tough and short and choppy… ugh. I force my eyes open and give him an open shrug. “Listen, we didn’t really have any intent to… charge you… for this.”
“No such thing as free, softskin,” he says, narrow eyes darting between us. “And I’ll take no debts.”
He says the last with a sudden vehemence that makes me reach for my magic before I stop myself. I pause, waiting for either of my other companions to step in, but they seem quite content to allow me to flounder. Sighing, I consider the thought.
“Well, how about, in payment, you promise not to try to kill or harm us in any way. Uh, until we’re the last four left. Should that, uh, happen.”
“No can do, softskin,” he says, sharply wagging his snout back and forth. “My employer is dead set on winning this whole rigged shenanigan, and it’s against my contract to be fettered by other stipulations. You understand, yeah?”
“About your… employer. Fallo, was it?”
“Mr. Grent to you, but sure. What about him?”
“Well,” I say slowly, trying to think of how I can phrase this. “Are you entirely sure that you’re… still employed?”
“What kind of shit you spreading?” he says, his mouth snapping shut and his scaly face turning hostile. “I got promoted just yesterday, what with Gonny gettin’ snapped up by that Drelni chick. And, soon as I find my way back, I’ll have a higher place in the Corp, what with the boys who died to that rock bastard earlier. You guys fight it?”
“Listen, buddy,” I say, patting the air with my hands. “I know it’s hard to believe, but you may want to… do you have a way to check?”
“Yeah, but what kinda employee would I be if I doubted Mr. Grent? Though, to settle your empty little head, I’ll just…” he trails off, his eyes unfocusing and his face going slack. His eyes track the empty air once, twice, and a third time. With each repetition, he slumps a little farther. The yellow of his eyes brightens and then dulls as a second set of lids, clear like a crocodile, flick across twice in rapid succession. “Unemployed?”
The way he says the word is akin to how I might say ‘terminal?’ after a cancer diagnosis. I feel the urge to pat his head or rub his back, though I don’t dare try. His teeth look sharp and wicked, and I don’t have any idea what he’s capable of, level three or not.
“I’m sorry,” I say into the silence. “Maybe you weren’t fired. Maybe Mr. Grent died?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs, staring into the empty air where I imagine ‘unemployed’ is written in cold blue letters. His second lid flicks across again, and his eyes refocus on the present. His mouth snaps closed, his narrow eyes narrowing further. “All good. Must be a mistake, ya know? I’m a good employee. Mr. Grent wouldn’t fire me without cause. You guys help me find him, and we can get this cleared up like that.”
He makes a gesture with his hand that I don’t recognize. From context, and the strange grating sound it makes, I imagine it is the Cobald version of a snap.
“Sure,” I say, though I’m not entirely sure I believe him. If I’m getting even a piece of the truth, it seems like his people are quintessentially capitalist. Judging by how we found him, and what magic it took for Zara to revive him, I imagine his employer has already moved on. It’s what any American corporation would do. Death, disability, burn out… the show must go on. And now. “Why don’t, for now, you just travel with us? We’re going to stay out of the Haven for a bit. You know, maybe do some Challenges, get a little stronger. Imagine the promotion you get if you come back with some Artifacts for Mr. Grent.”
“Hey!” he says, his eyes brightening again. “That’s a damn swell idea, especially coming from a softskin. Keep ideas like that comin’, and I might put in a good word for you with Mr. Grent. You the leader of this… group?”
“I… guess?” I say, turning the last into a question. Zara doesn’t even glance at me, and Threenut gives me a reassuring nod.
“Not very leaderly, softskin,” he says, his eyes appraising. “Name’s Burl, by the way.”
“I’m Sam, and this is Threenut, and that’s Zara.”
“Obliged.” He looks around at the dark treeline, seemingly noticing his surroundings for the first time. “Damn, you fellows is brave. The trees always gave me the willies, even with a Corp around me. What are we out here for?”
“We are quite safe,” Zara says flatly. “This forest is of my people.”
“And you’s the only one, eh?” His wandering eyes make the question rhetorical, though it is a question I’ve been asking myself. “What can a guy do for grub around here?”
“Does your body need sustenance?” Threenut asks.
“No,” Burl says, showing a grin that is all teeth. “But I miss it.”
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
***
We settle among the trees as night falls again, the shadows sharp and deep beneath their boughs. Watches are agreed upon with the kind of wary reluctance you’d have with a payday loan. It might feel good initially to have someone watch your back, but you’ll always be worried about when the debt will come due. I take the first watch, then Threenut, then Zara, and finally Burl once he’s had the chance to rest. I end up first, both because I’m the leader and, more, because I’m absolutely certain I won’t be able to trust them enough to sleep until I see them trust me enough to sleep.
It’s kind of circular logic, but it’s been a long day. The second the order is established, Threenut and Burl curl up like matching terriers and fall asleep. Wound into a tight ball around his belly, Threenut looks like an invasive bush left to grow in an exotic forest. Burl looks like a child, his arms wrapped around his knees. Zara merely leans back against a tree and disappears into its bark. If I stretch every ounce of my Legendary Perception, I can pick out the outline of her form, but only just. Her eyes glitter in the darkness, giving me the impression that she’s watching me, eyes open. But of course, she’s evolved similarly to a spider. I don’t think she even has eyelids.
Still… I shiver. Knowing that even natural camouflage can so ably trick my senses… I didn’t realize how much I was relying on my unearned advantage for security, and now I feel pretty fucking unsafe. Once everyone is settled, I turn part of my attention to myself, and to Kora.
We should talk about evolution.
“True. What you got last was quite useful in its time, and we have enough to evolve any of your lesser Skills. Perception and Identification will require far more soul energy.”
So am I right? Should we do Gravity Shift?
“Perhaps. As it stands, it is an indiscriminate hammer, whilst the rest of your abilities are precise daggers.”
But there’s no guarantee we get what we want.
“No, though it makes sense in this instance. There is another option, though. Evolving your Soul Expression would possibly help to alleviate some of your resource issues.”
You mean how every single thing I do drains me, and I can’t really use my Skills much because my only protection from all this shit is my body burning power to keep me alive?
“Yes. That. Or, we plan for the long game. Evolve nothing, and wait for the opportunity to evolve Ravenous Soul. Should we survive, absorbing soul energy at an even greater rate or with greater effect could be an advantage beyond reckoning.”
What do you think we should do?
“It is not an easy decision to make, but I think we should evolve one or, if we have enough, both of our lesser Skills now. After, we can wait, and plan. Despite my recommendations and reservations, you have a group around you now. Should they remain loyal, we should have time to let our power grow without undue risk.”
I did it instinctually before, caught up in the moment of fighting Assless the Deathlord, but the moment I think of evolution a notification appears in front of my eyes.
Soul energy available! You have enough soul energy to evolve a Skill. Choose from among the following options:
Soul Expression, Gravity Aspected (Uncommon, Evolutions: 1)
Gravity Shift (Unique, Evolutions: 0)
That seems fair. I reach for the latent energy, starting the instinctive process of feeding it to Gravity Shift. I push energy into my Skill, and the channel burns deeper, more solid, the latent energy draining from my chest and settling into my core.
Skill evolved! Gravity Shift (Unique) has become Gravity Manipulation (Unique)!
You have the ability to designate a direction for the gravitational attraction in a localized area or for a designated object at the cost of soul energy.
Energy Cost: Severe
Evolve to gain additional benefits.
Man, for your claims that evolution is random, we sure are getting what we want.
“Perhaps it is the nature of having a Unique class. As it has never been offered before, your will is shaping the soul energy to become what you desire without the well-worn channels of prior Competitors to limit you.”
Whatever, it’s pretty nice to be able to rely on something.
“What is left?”
Soul energy available! You have enough soul energy to evolve a Skill. Choose from among the following options:
Soul Expression, Gravity Aspected (Uncommon, Evolutions: 1)
Enough, I guess. Pull the trigger? Feeling her assent, I let the last bit of soul energy drain from my chest.
Skill evolved! Soul Expression, Gravity Aspected (Uncommon) has become Soul Expression, Gravity Aspected (Rare)!
Your soul is able to manipulate gravitational forces with even greater efficacy and efficiency. The power and soul energy cost of your gravity aspected Skills has been altered. Evolve to gain additional benefits.
Name: Sam Foreman
Race: Human (Common)
Class: Singularity (Unique)
Level: 16
Class Evolutions: N/A
Soul Energy: 191
Statistics
Strength: 2
Agility: 4
Toughness: 6
Intelligence: 8
Will: 11
Charisma: 7
Skills:
Identification (Legendary, Evolutions: 4)
Perception (Legendary, Evolutions: 4)
Soul Expression, Gravity Aspected (Rare, Evolutions: 2)
Weaken Gravity (Rare, Evolutions: 1)
Strengthen Gravity (Rare, Evolutions: 1)
Gravity Manipulation (Unique, Evolutions: 1)
Boons:
Ravenous Soul (Legendary)
Psychic Telos (Legendary)
Artifacts:
Deity’s Bauble (Rare Artifact, Toy)
The Slippers of Queen Elia, the Bounding Princess of Thellin (Rare Artifact, Equipment)
“Competitor. Do you notice something… strange, about your statistics?”
You mean, aside from the insulting ‘2’ next to my strength? No, not really… wait. My Charisma? A seven? Wasn’t I a five or something?
“That is my recollection as well. You didn’t get a notice of improvement, did you?”
No. And I did when my Toughness and Will went up. What gives?
“I’m not sure.” Kora seems about to say something, but no words echo into my mind. “Return to your watch, Competitor. It would not do to be surprised.”
Knowing the deflection for what it is, I nonetheless listen to her advice. There is a distant rumble, more felt than heard, and light briefly paints the edges of the sharp leaves swaying overhead. I really should be more worried about dying out here than I am, especially surrounded by three aliens of three different species in a tournament where we’re definitively supposed to kill each other. At least, from what I can tell, all of them do require rest.
For all that, I find my mind wandering in the stillness of the deep violet gloom. Wandering to dangerous places, places I’ve avoided in the headlong rush from catastrophe to catastrophe.
How long has it been? Days? Weeks? Time passes strangely here. Every ‘day’ feels like a year and no time at all. What is Dad doing? How is Nolan taking this?
Chances are, I’ll never know.
“I love you.” The words leave my lips with the softest caress a breath can give. Still it feels like fire in my heart. I force more words through the agony. “I miss you. I’m fighting for you. For all of you. I won’t give up. I love you.”
The last is not offered to them, but to a gravestone, freshly carved, sitting alone beneath an old oak at the edge of an older cemetery. A gravestone still covered with flowers, sincere and insincere alike.
To the broken form, dressed in her Sunday best, that lies beneath it.
