Chapter 19: Not Perfect (Patreon)

Author’s note: Hi guys

Small change: I have removed the dots in the description of weaves.

Enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 19: Not Perfect - link: https://www.patreon.com/posts/102135578

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Chapter 19: Not Perfect

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Silent Suffering

Array Weave
91 glyphs - ⦿⦿⦿

⦿ 

One moan escaping your lips can ruin your master’s day,
luckily, you can choose to remain silent and stay that way.

⦿⦿ 

Slave servitude comes with so much, hardship, love, and pain,
but better to make your moves quiet than have your master go insane.

⦿⦿⦿ 

It is not easy to see others suffer and what they become,
yet you find it just as easy to ignore their pain and grow numb.

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This bloody weave was thoroughly designed to keep the slaves quiet through their suffering. Yet, much to the deranged bastard’s annoyance, the pain from the side effects of his potions twisting the bodies of the slaves, my body, was just too overwhelming most of the time for the Silent Suffering to muffle our cries. 

For that reason, I was kind of glad for the third circle of this weave, while hating it the most. Sure, it brought some peace to my heart, but it was just another way this Slave Array twisted my view of reality.

‘Well...gone it is.’

Basking in another rush of satisfaction and relief at the sight of yet another vacant peak of the hexagonal array, I eagerly pounced on another loathed weave: Faint Presence.

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Faint Presence

Array Weave
29 glyphs - ⦿⦿

⦿

While your services will never cease to be needed,
so long as you perform them, you may go unheeded.

⦿⦿

Even when at rest,
go unnoticed is best.

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Honestly, I had no idea why that bastard made me choose this one. The Slave Array had a few that would have made me less of a nuisance to him, like Odorless Odor or Made for Torture, and even one I wished he had ordered me to choose: Painless Agony. 

Not that, unbound by his orders, I would pick the weave now.

‘No way!’

Among the General Weaves, I had some that reduced pain, too. 

But first things first...

‘...off you go.’ 

Now, to get rid of the last one.

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Unnatural Regeneration

General Weave
36 glyphs - ⦿⦿

⦿ 
Any light bruise, damage, or injury to your fragile human frame,
you will find unlike your kin healed with regeneration not so lame.

⦿⦿ 
If any of your minor wounds were to go deeper,
they will be taken care of by regeneration no weaker.

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To be fair, it wasn’t a bad skill - not one of the Slave Array Weaves, and neither one that would mess with my mind. However, just the mere thought of keeping it in my Grid sent a shiver down my spine. It wasn’t the weave the bastard had made me take out of the goodness of his heart to help me overcome the side effects of his vile concoctions, but one that allowed him to take the tests of my “natural” regeneration further.

So, no. It had to go. 

I had far too many terrible memories related to this weave to keep it. Moreover, even though it had gained a few glyphs since I last checked, and that was way before the icy concoction and the damn Beast Core shoved into my belly messed up my body, the skill obviously wasn’t behind my miraculous resurrections. If anything...

‘Wait a minute? Did I, by chance, get a new weave because of that?’

Annoyingly, the Lattice, for whatever reason, did not notify of getting new General Weaves. In fact, the lack of any sense in the notifications was yet another gripe I had with it. While the Lattice informed me of my poisoning or my freaking death, the point of which was under normal circumstances rather questionable, it remained mute to the fact that I had been starving or mind controlled by a shitty slave collar.

Not that it would be of any help.

On the bright side, whatever was once recorded by the Lattice could be found again - like the notification of my first death. 

• You died

Quite a disappointment, to be honest. The same two words I had seen a couple of times already, no mention of that weird bug killing me, and as I expected, no other notification.

If I had indeed gained some new skill, which was highly likely, if only in light of the concoction I drank and the core, I had no choice but to dig through dozens and dozens of General Weaves. To be even more annoying to use, the Lattice had no search function, and if there was any sorting at all, it had to be based on the runic names of the weaves, not on their name translations into Standard.

‘Well, perhaps later...’

Not really keen on finding out what kind of monster I had really turned into, I looked at my handiwork, unable to help but marvel in delight.

My Grid was not perfect; far from it, actually. Yet tears welled up in my eyes. While only half empty, the way the Slave Hexagon looked was as close as I could get it right now to what I’d wanted to see for so long.

Bursting with joy, a loud squeal escaped my throat:

“Y-yes...”

Of course, that didn’t go well over too with the birdfolk in the treetops. Well, this time, I couldn’t care less. In fact, I was about to yell at them to shut up when my ears perked up.

‘What the f...?’

The depths of the woods echoed with an odd noise. My instincts went to override, making me jump to my feet and ready to face - or flee - whatever animal, beast, or monster was forging its way through this so far tranquil place. 

The screeching birds weren’t making it easy, but after listening for a bit, I picked up a rhythm in the strange clapping, squeaking, and...neighing?

‘No way...is that... a horse-drawn carriage?’

Here? In the middle of the who-knows-where forest? On this terrain? 

Impossible.

Though covered with soft moss, the tree roots, by the looks of it, were not easy to travel through on foot, let alone drive a carriage across.

‘Hold on...’ A somewhat ridiculous yet brazen thought crossed my mind. ‘...Is there a road ahead?’

What if these were not the magical primeval woods untouched by humans I thought they were but instead well-traveled forests? A dread gripped my heart, stopping me from taking a single step towards finding the truth. A road cutting through these roots was something I could get over with; however, a carriage traveling along it meant only one thing: people, locals who, in my experience, saw me as nothing but a slave.

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