Chapter Six: Lack of Wisdom (Patreon)

Before

Someone isn’t literally driving a massive metal spike, though honestly it feels like it at the time. In reality, it’s memories, or perhaps impressions would be a better word, which are being forced into my head. I suddenly realise that I know all about Lay-on-hands and how to use it. I curse out loud as I really regret taking the health potion: this is a healing Skill. I hadn’t realised. Sure, it might not have healed me all the way in one go – I can’t tell what level it’s at without looking at my status, nor how much mana I have – but I could have used it multiple times until I was healed. I only have – had – two health potions; only one now….

Gritting my teeth, there’s not much I can do about the new wave of chagrin that washes through me. All I can do is try to do better in the future. That last health potion is going to be kept for a real emergency. Then I realise that I should be grateful that I have ongoing access to healing magic at all: I’d be in a lot worse position on Earth right now after a rock to the head, even with access to doctors and hospitals. Heck, I’d probably still be sitting in the waiting room if I’d even got to A&E.

Well, time to check my status and plan my next moves. Remembering what was at the end of the final message I read, I try commanding the screen to reappear.

“View status summary,” I say deliberately, more pleased than I should be when the screen comes back with a table of numbers. That is, until I look at it.

“Six,” I splutter indignantly, ignoring everything else. “Six?!” How could I only have a six for Intelligence? And how could that be my highest stat? I mean, the fact that it’s my highest stat isn’t in itself a surprise – I’ve always prided myself on my intellect. It’s the fact that it’s so low, and so are all my other stats, that shocks me. Did all the days at the gym mean nothing? Or maybe they did help since that was actually only one point behind my Intelligence stat…

I smile wryly as I note my Wisdom stat – not inaccurate, I suppose. I have made some rather stupid decisions, and not just today. Perhaps I ought to think about increasing that at some point, though probably not immediately as I can’t really see its benefit in the immediate future. Although, maybe that’s my lack of wisdom talking...

Sighing, I close the screen. I need to spend some time thinking about it and trying to work out how all the different elements function. Right now, though, I need to build up my ability to survive, and that means choosing one of the knowledge stones to absorb. Maybe my stats aren’t that unexpected – Nicholas had obviously considered it likely enough to put it as a post-script in his letter. That said, he equally evidently considered the possibility that my stats could be enough to absorb more than one stone, otherwise he wouldn’t have mentioned the possibility.

Anyway, I look over the stones again thoughtfully. Hunting, tracking, and woodcraft are all essential for me at the moment, and I’m grateful Nicholas sent them – though not so grateful it outweighs my resentment of him sending me here in the first place. I wrench my thoughts back from that dark place again and reconcentrate on the subject at hand.

Based on what I summarise is the function of each of the stones, I reckon that Woodcraft is my first priority, and I’ll have to hope that it doesn’t mean carpentry. After that...Well, I’ll have to decide later whether I’m going to need to know how to hunt before learning how to track or vice versa. If today is an exception and most creatures here avoid me, I’ll need to be able to find them: tracking. If today is not an exception, then probably the animals will find me, so hunting becomes more of a priority. Either way, it’s not a decision I can make now.

Resolved, I nonetheless take a moment to reconsider, to check my reasoning for any more mistakes. Not seeing any, at least not obvious ones, I take up the light green stone and absorb it as I did the Skill stone.

It’s not a railroad spike this time – it’s worse. More like the train being driven into my head, all lights and horns blazing. I reel, losing my balance drunkenly and falling. The added pain of hitting the floor is a side-note to what’s happening with my head. Why am I in so much pain, I ask myself blearily through the sensation. Has something gone wrong?

Fortunately for me, nothing has gone wrong. It turns out that shoving about five years’ worth of experience with survival in the wild into my head all in one go is just a little more impactful than the vague sense of how to use a skill that I’d received before.

I can understand now why Nicholas suggested that I don’t absorb more than one stone a day unless my Intelligence is over 10 – even with all the pain, even with all the information overload, I can sense that some of it is slipping away. Too unfamiliar with even the basics of what is being shoved into my mind, some of it just isn’t sticking. Fortunately for me, it’s a small portion as absorbing this stone is within my capabilities. Just. That said, I have to admit that I only draw these conclusions after the pain starts to subside.

“Ow,” I groan, daring to open my eyes from where they had slid shut. The sunlight dazzles me for a moment and sends a bolt of pain once more spearing through my brain. I slam them shut again waiting for the spinning to subside a bit more, but make a new attempt as soon as I feel remotely ready – my new wilderness survival knowledge is telling me that lying out in the open with closed eyes is not the best way to see the next day. Or even the next hour. And it iswilderness survival, thankfully. More than just surviving in the forest, this stone has given me the knowledge of how to survive in a range of environments – all of them, of course, far from any inhabited area.

Newly armed with knowledge, I find my hesitancy about the path forward clearing up a bit. I move quickly towards the table and put the remaining stones into the pocket which wasn’t torn up by the bird’s attack. I shrug on the extra clothes which I had pushed off at the start and then sling the pack with the other survival supplies over my shoulder, to join the other backpack I brought with me. My most important items now stored, I gaze at my bright orange and green suitcases wondering how I’m going to carry them.

In neither design nor colour are they suited to my new environment, but I’d rather not have to just ditch everything either. Glancing at the bird I’ve just killed, I wonder about that too. My new wilderness survival memories are screaming at me that this is a useful food source, but at the same time that butchering and blood are a perfect way to lure predators. I don’t want to lure predators!

Then something occurs to me which makes me facepalm at my own idiocy. My Inventory! There was that message which said I could store a number of items in my Inventory, and I don’t get the idea it was talking about my suitcases. Instead, I wonder if it’s some sort of non-physical space like in some games I played. Surely thatwouldn’t let the scent of blood leak out?

I consider actually butchering the bird here and then moving away, but decide against it in the end – I feel too exposed here. Plus, there’s no water source other than my canteen, and I don’t want to waste that when I’ll probably need it for drinking purposes. Instead, I try to work out how to actually access the Inventory.

I test with a pen, something I don’t really care too much about if it is lost. Fortunately, it turns out to be fairly easy. I have to think or say ‘inventory’ and then it appears in front of my eyes – twenty little empty squares. Imagining the pen taking one of the spots is enough for it to vanish from my hands, and then imagining taking it out of the square is sufficient for it to appear once more in my hands. Not useful for an emergency situation, I note, resolving to keep my health potion and knife on my person.

The next thing I try is to place the bird in its entirety into the inventory. At first it doesn’t work, and I feel a sinking sense of disappointment. Then, I have an idea. The bird is big, and dead. It’s a – literal – dead-weight, but by carefully arranging its limbs and heaving with all my might, I get it off the ground. Only by a centimetre or so, but I’m impressed...and also in pain. Before I drop it, I quickly activate my Inventory and imagine putting the bird in it. To my delight, the whole carcass suddenly vanishes. I stagger, put off-balance by the abrupt disappearance of the weight I was pressing against. My Inventory is still activated and I can see that one of its squares is now filled. Not wanting to try my luck, I don’t verify by taking it out again, but jubilation fills me.

OK, so that’s something I should make a mental note of: I need to be holding whatever it is off the ground. No putting an airplane in my Inventory – if I found one, that is. And I don’t know if there’s any size limit per item slot beyond the 50 items stack limit. Still, for the present purpose, it’s good news. A moment’s work has a second and third slot filled with my suitcases. Perfect! Another thought has me pulling the precious knowledge stones out of my pocket and putting them in to fill three of the seventeen slots which remain. No way do I want to lose those!

About to set out once more, I have another thought. I wonder… Shrugging my backpack off again, I try to put that in the Inventory. I grin as it also succeeds. Even better, it only takes up one slot. This Inventory is awesome! Maybe I should do the same with my new survival pack? I try it, but this time it doesn’t work. I frown. Why did the suitcases and backpack work, and the last bag didn’t?

A loud cry rings out and I jump, reminded of where I was. No time to test out theories, not sitting out in the open as I am. I quickly fill up a few more spaces in my Inventory with the bulky coats I’m wearing, giving me more range of movement. I now know that the difference of speed between wearing them and not could save my life – or end it.