Chapter 2 - Prestige Level 1 [Path of the Fertile Seed] (Patreon)

I’d been on my knees beside the dead little man for a while. The text in front of my face about unread accomplishments and notifications kept pulsing white, demanding attention.

As much as I was curious to know what would happen if I asked to read more, I was terrified I’d lose my mind if I did. I wasn’t sure how much more weird I could handle.

I was also in pain. I’d never been stabbed before, let alone by a knife covered in somebody’s “family goo.” Thankfully, the wound seemed like it had already stopped leaking blood. I could probably attribute that to being stabbed by a toy-sized knife. It hurt like hell, but it was just a flesh wound.

Yay me. I was officially badass enough to classify a stabbing as a flesh wound.

I pulled off the helmet and held it in front of me at arm’s length.

Was this real? I waved my fingers through the leaking shadows again, then turned it over and looked inside. There was a complex web of leather straps and padding inside, explaining why it barely felt like anything when I had it on. There was still no way I should’ve had a completely clear view, though. The slit for the eyes was pretty narrow. It should’ve been like looking at the world through a shitty little keyhole.

No wonder the bastard wanted it, though. The helmet looked expensive.

I squinted up at the sky, studying the huge blue planet. It spun so fast I could barely make out the rotation on its clouded surface. One side was sparkling with reflected light, and the other was deep in shadow.

I shook my head. Demented gnomes… Weird planets in the sky… As my peak old-man humor dad would’ve said, I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. He also would’ve whisper-laughed and made uncomfortable eye contact with me until I grudgingly smiled along with him.

The thought was surprisingly sour. Wherever this was, it wasn’t home. For all I knew, I might never go back home, either. 

The idea settled in my stomach like sour milk as I stared down at the helmet, pointedly ignoring the mangled gnome corpse beside me. I wasn’t exactly in love with my old life. Work usually sucked, but I did enjoy helping people. It was a job that left no doubt in my mind at the end of the day. I was making a difference. The cost was all the gruesome and horrible shit I had to see and live with, but it had felt worth it.

And there was my family. I was never amazingly close with them, but we all got along well enough.

It probably said something unflattering about me, but I felt saddest about Big Boy. If this was all real and I was stuck here, though, I knew my sister would take care of her. 

I let out a breath. 

No matter how much those thoughts stung, they were all problems so far out of my reach that it was almost laughable. 

I sat with the helmet in my lap while the constant breeze drifted through my sweaty hair. I felt the sadness and uncertainty of this new world and the potential loss of my old one. I gave myself a few minutes to feel it as deeply as possible. Then I put it aside.

This place was dangerous. Deadly, even. I needed to be in the here and now to survive. Maybe an opportunity for answers or even a chance to return to my old life would present itself in the future. Those were bridges to cross when and if I reached them.

For now, though, I was going to start this new life… by stripping a dead gnome naked.

I slid my helmet on and went to the gnome’s corpse. I pulled off his clothes and realized with bemused horror that he had pierced nipples and a little tramp-stamp tattoo. The tattoo was a pair of wings made of two opposing beards and the word “Jinglefoot.” 

“Nice…” I sighed as I laid out his clothes in a line, tearing strips and tying parts together until I had a rough approximation of a skirt. I put it around my waist and managed to cover myself partially. A stiff breeze would probably give somebody an unpleasant view, but it was better than nothing. I also picked up a little satchel he was carrying, and I figured I could fit one or two fist-sized objects in if I was lucky. 

If video games taught me anything, it was to loot everything. Even things like dirty rags, old boots, and books I never planned to read. So I plucked another one of the toy-sized knives out of the gnome’s hand. The knife turned black and started flaking away, chunks of material catching in the wind and floating off. It was completely gone within seconds as if it had all turned to dust and been blown away. 

I looked at my empty hand, turning it over and inspecting it for damage. The other two knives I had from him were still solid, though.

I wondered if dying in possession of an item had somehow been the issue. The gnome seemed determined to get me to take my helmet off before he tried to kill me, after all. But he hadn’t “given” me his little knives, either. He’d stabbed me with one and dropped the other.

 It didn’t make sense, but I supposed it was a mystery for another time.

I felt a little less at risk of losing my shit than I did a few minutes ago, so I tried to focus on pulling up the text notifications again. It worked as if they were directly connected to my thoughts. Experimentally, I tried tugging my helmet off while looking at the text. As I expected, it faded when I removed the helmet. Then I tried pulling up the text without the helmet on.

Nothing. 

That made me feel better. After all, a fantasy helmet that showed me magical text was less crazy than words appearing out of thin air. A little less crazy, at least.

I spent a little while mentally toying with the text, which worked surprisingly well. A simple thought could manipulate it. I could move it to the side, minimize it, make it bigger or smaller. It all gave me strong videogame vibes.

On a whim, I tried to think about viewing my stats.

To my surprise, a stat sheet floated into view. 

Name: Seraphel

Prestige level: 1

Level: 4. 

Rank: Wood

Class Corestone 1: Unbound

Class Corestone  2: Unbound

Divine Ability: Delete an item. Restrictions apply. Cooldown: 48 hours.

Active Skills:

• Unassigned

• Unassigned

• Unassigned

• Unassigned

• Unassigned

Passive Skills:

• Unassigned

• Unassigned

• Unassigned

• Unassigned

• Unassigned

The idea that all the information applied to me was dizzying. For starters, my name was Brynn, not Seraphel. Seraphel sounded like something a youth group leader would choose for their gamer tag. I’d had way more class and sophistication than that in my gaming days. I always chose “Lochness” as a gamertag. Of course, I learned later that “Loch” just means lake. So I’d really named myself more after a lake in Scotland than a cool monster. Whoops. It was still better than Seraphel, though.

Name issues aside, it looked like I could equip classes with a limited number of active and passive skills. That would probably make fighting things a whole lot less scary. I had no skills and just two toy-sized knives to defend myself at the moment. Not great. So where could I get a “class corestone”?

There were also levels and ranks. I didn’t really know what that meant.

I had a divine ability, too. Being able to “delete” an item sounded pretty boring, though. If that was a “divine” ability, then I must’ve inherited it from the god of trash cans. And why did my divine ability come with a “restrictions apply” warning like a discount store coupon?

The last interesting bit was the “prestige level.” Assuming it started at zero and not one, that meant I might have already reached the first prestige level. Considering I just got here, I had to assume that wasn’t right. 

I prompted my helmet to give me more information on my prestige level.

The stat sheets flashed out of view, replaced by new information.

All progress reset. Prestige level 1 reached. 

View Path Details?
 I mentally willed the details to appear. A box of text appeared. Unlike every box I'd seen so far, this one had a "Previously Viewed" designation. According to the text, I'd viewed it... that couldn't be right. 300 years ago?

Frowning, I examined the details. 

[Selection Confirmed: Path of the Fertile Seed] “The smallest, most fertile seed can grow into the most mighty tree.” Warning: All memories of your time on Eros will be erased. You will be allowed to retain two items of Gold Quality or lower. You may choose one skill and retain a small portion of your current knowledge. Further information on this path will remain locked until you wake from stasis. Please note: Stasis will last exactly 300 years. This process can not be interrupted once it begins.

The rest of the information had an "unread" designation as if the details were only available after going through stasis. I thought my head might spin if I stopped to think too hard about any of that, so I kept reading.
 Multi-classing unlocked. You may now select a second class. Warning: both classes share the same active and passive slots. 

Plus (1) additional active skill slot unlocked.
 Plus (1) additional passive skill slot unlocked. 

[Path of the Fertile Seed Reward] Experience growth increased

[Path of the Fertile Seed Reward] Class corestone growth speed greatly enhanced

[Path of the Fertile Seed Reward] Retain two items of your choice of (Gold) quality or lower.

[Path of the Fertile Seed Reward] Retain a small fraction of [Chosen Skill: Mana Manipulation]
 [Path of the Fertile Seed Reward] Retain ability to speak Erosian common tongue

[Path of the Fertile Seed Reward] You’re being watched.

[Path of the Fertile Seed Penalty] Memory wipe

[Path of the Fertile Seed Penalty] Randomize starting location

“Uh,” I said.

Once I was done grappling with the idea that any of this was real, I grounded myself by thinking of it as a game. What would I think if I saw those benefits?

Other than the ominous “reward” of being watched, the benefits were overwhelmingly good. Experience and class corestone growth speed seemed like they’d have a direct connection to my power. If I’d been allowed to choose a skill to keep a portion of, then I had to assume I’d chosen wisely. 

In all, the only real penalty seemed like….

I could feel the truth of it all like a word on the tip of my tongue, just waiting within reach.

It settled in slowly. Heavily.

The memories of my old life felt fresh—like they had just happened yesterday. But if everything had been wiped since my “arrival on Eros,” and that memory wipe had happened 300 years ago, my heart pounded, and my breath sped up at the implications.

That would mean everybody I ever knew or cared about had already died. A long, long time ago. 

It would mean I came here hundreds of years ago—possibly much more—and managed to progress to the maximum power level. And then I inexplicably decided to wipe my progress and memory in exchange for these benefits?

But why? I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

I was about to check my unread accomplishments when I heard screams. I saw a man and woman running full-tilt from the forest and heading my way.