I'm alive. (joking)

This isn't so much of a rewrite, as much as it is a reboot. Like it shares Dna with 'Skipping Stone' but it's not the same story, so if you've read the past version you'll notice a lot of stuff that won't turn up in my Rwby story 'Fragment' has ended up here. (like a less traumatic divorce) I'm doing it mainly so I don't get my mental wires crossed, updates will overall be less frequent but I'll be going on hiatus for months on end less often. Enjoy.


Town Gone South

Take shrooms they said. 'Hallucinogenics are safer and more fun', they said. I thought I'd be tripping mad balls, talking to lamps maybe, or smell a couple of musical tracks. Something fun, something perhaps within walking distance of wearing off. I expected a lot of things, maybe panic over watching tv at worst.

'Kareee-bosch!

What sounded closer to a tree falling to the floor after being chopped down, was actually the sapling collapsing under my weight as I fell atop it. My body slammed face first into the ground, quite loudly against my relatively quiet and quite woody surroundings. My face stung as the metal of my glasses impaled themselves upon the bridge of my own nose. A groan slipped out of me, bred both of frustration and pain of equal measure. Taking in jerky breaths, shaking the rest of my body throughout the whole period of time it takes me as I'm getting back up. Flipping myself over, to get a clear view of the cloudy sky in spite of the thick tree line around me.

"WHERE THE FUCK," I shouted into the pure unknown surrounding me, where the only response I received was the sudden silence of the birds chirping around me. I didn't expect to end up in the middle of the damn woods, let alone a forest I didn't even recognize. "AM I?!"

The overcharged emotional daze that I'd been stuck in by my anger quickly drained out of me, leaving an emptiness in its place. If I could collapse in on myself more than I already had, then that probably would've happened at this point, but even laying there felt like too much of an effort to exert. Like I could've broken the surface tension of the floor and sunk to some other depth. I don't know what other point beyond rock bottom there is to hit, but I was bound to find out if there was one soon.

Nothing's real, my skeleton's too thin to be my own, closer to those of a bird with how much easier they could be snapped. My flesh too heavy, and my bones not nearly the weight I remember that they're supposed to be. I don't think I'd be able to pull myself up, I certainly didn't want to, but even if I could? My bones would sooner break under the pressure than comply.

Everything felt so fluttery as I composed myself, tuning back in so that I could wash away the white noise threatening to tear me in two. Letting out a few gasping breaths for my vision to refocus, laying there on the ground too tired to seeth, and too emotionally drained for me to sulk either. Spots of black littered my sight whilst the strength returned to me limbs, and my grip on reality tightened.

I- There's a fucking ant wiggling around on the frame of my glasses.

The fucking audacity.

My thoughts swirled as I brushed myself clean of all the newly acquired dirt and grime, not quite sure on how much time had passed. Brushing my glasses clean with the sleeves of my shirt, it'd have to do until I could find something better. And lastly, shaking my head free of any leaves that may have caught a ride aloft my hair.

Not my proudest moment to end up looking like a wet dog drying itself.

At least I have my good shoes today, they made treading through the underbrush and thick greenery tolerable at the very least. Rather be hiking, I'd at least have a destination in mind. Camping can be fun, marshmallows, tents, a whole ass occasion with the family.

But this is not camping!

"Uagh," The sound that came out of my throat ached as it did so, dragged out by the last vestiges of hate from that previous spike of emotion.

What an utter shit show of a situation I'd managed to get in. Oh of all the places to end up, somehow I managed to find myself a place beyond any cell tower's reach. I'd take the veritable cancer rays of a 5G tower if it meant I could get half-decent reception, maybe make a call to god and see if I'm still high or not. I did take the case off my phone and check the back, nothing's broken or misaligned.

Maybe this is just a bad dream, first time for everything and all.

If you focused you could probably mistake me for a walking talking microwave, a macrowave if you will. I'll gladly admit I'm coping and seething and more than a little pissed off. More of a smoldering irritation at this point, but nowhere close to happy considering the circumstances.

I pushed past a bush, only to feel one of its branches swing back at me and leave a scratch where it made contact with my arm. I only yelped a little bit. . . I did swear a bit more though. No need to pick a fight with the flora, I'm not that crazy yet. The fauna though?

Maybe.

Not unless it's a bear, or cougar, or like a wolf. . . Actually, now that I think about it, I haven't seen any wild animals yet. Probably because of my terrible vibe, but given the circumstances I'd happily take a squirrel over a badger.

This better not be a weird fucked up japanese game show, laugh as we kidnap and dump a clueless American into bumfuck nowhere. Watch as he stumbles around the goddamn woods, as we take 20 different camera angles of his antics before he travels far enough to reunite with civilization. Give him like an hour to win 4 grand, call it Forrest Grant, or something equally dumb. . . Man, I'd watch that.

Coming to a stop by the edge of a clearing in the forest, the sun flashing above me almost blinds me for a moment. With the treeline before me breaking to reveal the trickling of water splitting the woods in two, the opening isn't too wide considering the circumstances, about twenty feet without any trees or large bushes. Less grass, more a mixture of rocks and weeds making up the seabed of this fledgling river. Quickly readjusting to see the small stream that's flowing before me puts everything back into perspective, exactly being that 'I'm lost'. No less dreading this than I was 10 minutes ago, but I'm all emotioned out for the day and there's not much I can do other than walk.

Seeing the water bring my dry lips to the forefront of my failing mind, before I know it my hydroflask thing is already halfway down my throat. With water far too sweet relieving the pressure wishing to constrict my throat, it's enough to sate me, but only just as I run out.

Damnit, should've refilled this thing.

Usually there's just ice and ginger ale in this, you can sneak soda into class if you're clever about it. Works better if you're not by the front, or draw attention to yourself, and don't get greedy. Better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it.

A familiar feeling overwhelms me by the time I reach the third gulp, and I know for certain that I've run dry.

Regret.

I still have some ice, chewing on them which I think is much better than the alternative, that being biting my nails that is.

Can't say much on the eastern front, all's quiet for now. That is, apart from the soft splashing of the stream. . . I should follow it, especially to wherever it's flowing down into. Stay by the water and stay alive, maybe find people along the way. When I come across a tiny waterfall, kinda cute, in the same way that those little Bonsai trees can be cute. My bottle takes a space under it as I wait for it to be refilled, the very same as the one I poured soda to drink out of.

It's not like I have a spare.

I know you're supposed to like, cook the water you collect. Something about germs or another, but unfortunately like with many things. I don't happen to have a water collection and purification kit on me right now, left it in my other backpack. Next time I'm randomly venturing through the woods, I'll remember to bring it with me.

Dysentery will get me in like a week, I'm not a doctor so don't quote me, but dehydration has it beat with just 3 days to put me six feet below ground. Give or take, if I'm careful I think it's possible to go with water for a week as well. Pretty sure dysentery won't really kill me, and had I had the option it wouldn't be a risk I'd be taking. I'm not god though, can't just turn dirty water clean, so I'm just going to have to take that risk.

Once full, screwed tight, and stowed away I'm off again. Grabbing a random stone before I do.

The makeshift gravel path surrounding the waterway crunches loudly as I walk, each step the only other sound in the forest aside from my own breathing. My eyes flickered back and forth as they scanned the area ahead of me, only to return to keep an eye on the falling stone I'd toss regularly. Were I sitting in class my knee would be bobbing erratically, that same nervous tick taking shape here. I'd really rather not bite my nails at this time.

This helps. . .

I could fish, as long as this thing does eventually lead back to a lake or something that is. I'm gonna be, not quite as mad, but still quite irritated if the stream just dies off and ends up going nowhere. Not looking forward to dealing with sore feet. Maybe I can lure a deer in with graham crackers, gain its undying love (from said graham crackers), and then betray it just as it learns the concept of trust. I'd have to eat it raw though, it's not like I packed a lighter, it'll be the rarest of meat. Aside from dis DIC-

My stomach lightly grumbles, seeking its hourly tax the moment after I brought up food. Pausing a moment to get my bearings, the stone gets abandoned and tossed further down the path ahead of me. The pack on me is dropped so I can take out a metal black box, and a spare apple I had kept from the day before. Sometimes you're just not that hungry at that very moment, and sometimes you are, no need to dump a perfectly good apple.

click

A blade pops up, splitting the metal contraption in half to reveal its true identity as some sort of pocket knife. Peeling a section of the skin off large enough for what I need before taking a bite, sinking into it with a soft crunch. The sweetness flooded my mouth as it passed my lips, almost driving my taste receptors to flinch from it. Always been more of a vegetable guy than a fruity myself. Is it odd to not like sweet fruit?

Might be a bit older than I thought. . .

BANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG

"Christ!" My apple falls to the forest floor before my yell is even half over, splitting out the piece of fruit I had half-chewed in my mouth as my grip on my knife tightened in my other hand. . . God damn birds, I fucking hate this place.

"Aghhhhhh," A long-suffering sigh made it past my lips, finally resting deep in my chest. Fully intent on tuning out the jabbering of my new woodpecker friend, rubbing my face at the quickly developing headache that this whole day is turning into. "Welp, that's the last time I try to eat healthy."

"I mean, I could still salvage this," I muttered to myself, bending down to recover the fallen fruit in the same breadth. Brushing away the accumulated grime on its skin, and cutting away the half where the open flesh of it rubbed against the ground. "I think."

A bite later, and give or take a few minutes into the future. A gust sweeps past me, ruffling my shirt and driving a chill up my spine despite my pack clinging to my back. The afternoon air proved itself to carry a far much more chilling edge to it than the air at noon straight had. "Fuck off, I'm not falling for it again god."

I turned to face where the breeze originated from, looking to my right where I'd felt it had originated. Following the rustling trees as a sign with my eyes, it was the same forest as before only just a bit darker than it had appeared to be several hours ago.

My eyes tried to spot my new friend, the feathery alarm clock-sounding one. I don't manage to catch sight of any holes in any trees, not that I'm super close so double-check anything, but still. . . It feels odd, almost as if something's not quite right with the air, it's all too still when it was just so chaotic a moment ago. I'm not being watched, it's a different feeling, but similar too. Like I'm missing something, not seeing the red cap of this forest's preverbal Waldo in the game to find out where he is, but just what is it that I'm looking for? Something. . out of place. . .

.

. .

. . .

. .

.

Smoke

Something's burning.

Well, with how much smoke is actively filling the sky that I can spot between breaks in the treeline, I have some reservations about it being a simple bonfire. I'd so soon be validated for that decision upon speeding up from a light jog that I'd been maintaining, to a near sprint as I caught sight of structures that I could make out fully. Huh, guess I'm no longer lost. That sure is a town right there.

It's just on fire is all.

That's not a good thing, don't get it twisted, but combined with the burning buildings and paved dirt roads had me a little confused. There was a moment where my brain lagged as I approached the edge of the village? It's a lot, rougher? More than what I'd even expect even a real rural town to look like.

Am I still in the US?

The roof of the house nearest to me collapsed in on itself, the fire consuming it in a sudden crash, and almost snuffing itself out. The frame and foundations remained as the blaze grew back to its previous height, the whole thing sending a wave of heat in my direction before returning to normal.

Out of the frying pan into the fire eh?

"Hellooooo?!" My own shout largely went unanswered, I could hear scraping and clanging in the distance. Though that may have been coming from all the buildings falling apart all around me, I wasn't entirely sure if the far away shapes at the edge of my vision were purely debris.

Covering my face became a high priority to maintain as I was forced by the smoke surrounding me, said smoke was fully intent on lingering about before moving on. The few rays of twilight light that have managed to pierce through the clouds only succeeded . I know that sticking around is a bad idea waiting to get worse, but like with my water situation, there aren't that many options to choose from to begin with.

Eventually, further into this town (though as I traveled it looked more, and more to be something closer to a village with how sparsely placed the homes seemed to be) I could make out the shouts of other people. Their screams too. That latter sent a chill down my spine, and this one was not born from the cold. There was substantially more speed added to my pacing, a tighter lock on the individual steps, and more awareness of potential danger kept in mind as well.

"Eyh uoy!" A man ahead of me screamed, it sounded like it was directed toward me. That assumption was later supported when he began to close in on me, taking something in hand as he did so. "Egt rvoe eerh!"

"Uhhhhh," I spent valuable seconds sputtering, my lizard brain jumping at the clear aggression in the man's face. Even with the relative lack of light, I managed to make out the man's rustic clothing, the furs and leather coat stood out to me. Looked like a really good renaissance fair costume, or at least that was the leap in logic that my brain made. That didn't reassure me much, a grown man angrily charging towards me was just about all that was required to spook me. Raising my hands up to head height, backing up a bit to keep some distance. It's been a long day, not playing blackjack with my sort of luck. "Hi, hey, I'd hate to be a bother and all, but I could use some directions. Be out your ha-"

Is that a fucking sword?!

Some of the dusk's last rays shined against the object held in the man's hands, the blade flashing as he pointed it at me. A crimson sheen coating its top half, a stark difference with the lustrous silver coloring the rest of the shortsword held within his grip. He seemed to sprout a grin that unnerved me as he got closer, swinging his sword arm at me once he got within reach.

"WAI-"

A spike of pain erupted from my collar bone down to the base of my chest.

A searing sensation passing through my skin, and a moment after realizing what exactly had caused it. The sound that came out felt closer to that of nails against chalkboard, like a scalpel digging into my bones, and passing just as easily through my flesh. My shirt had put up the best fight that it could've despite how rigged any such altercation would end up being, but had been torn in two just the same. I remained in a daze for the next few seconds, easily knocked to the floor by my attacker, and by the same token deepening the pain already present in my chest.

"Tihs nloy nedse ot eb sa dfiiufltc sa ouy akme ti idk," The man screamed something near incomprehensible, blinking frantically with adrenaline driving me forward, but that grin of his remained on his face all throughout. The bandit, it was my ailing mind's best guess that he wasn't a local resident of the settlement burning around us, and the pain he was inflicting made quite the argument. It was partially a desperate hope that everyone wouldn't end up being like this man, the thought crossed my mind as his blade cut into my arm. I tried to keep him from going further, but I was too drunk off the pain to focus. Panicking, I pushed back against the sword heading for my face, grabbing it with my right hand, and even gained some ground against him while my other arm tried to draw his attention. Despite the sharp edge digging into the palm of my hand, and drawing blood at a rate incomparable to a paper cut. "Os usjt anhd veor het amdn olgd, nda ll'I akme ouyr eadth a uiqck neo!"

As time went on, my hand kept littering drops of blood all over my face. Moving to readjust only worsened things, as the only sort of clot I had was the pressure of the blade holding my hand in place. Trying to escape only beckoned another fresh splattering of my own blood, the futility in doing so made me responsible for that added pain. Quick shallow gasps of air were the best I could manage, not helped by a certain someone actively trying to end my life. Those same breaths became far more erratic as time continued on, with every movement made in resistance ending in failure and agony.

Being crushed, cut, beaten to the rhythm of a slow death, all of it sapping the lifeblood that my heart was helplessly pumping. Felt in every cut piece of skin as the pressure ebbed underneath my skin as the blood left, with less to myself my desperate retaliations were less frequent. My mind only continued to accelerate, flinging out any idea to bargain for my life. All of it hitting the proverbial wall, but none of it sticking.

Until it did.

"Puughugha," I had felt a gurgling sound vibrate down into my fist, granting me a truly visceral revelation once the sensation made its way up into my brain. The man's hands went straight to his own throat, holding my hand, and desperately clutching at the freshly created wound. Trying to keep it from spilling open. Something had finally worked, that would've been my thinking as I'd lodged myself in the maniac's throat with my pocket knife. His eyes searched mine, looking for what, maybe for something he didn't have himself. The moment only lasted a single second.

And I jumped on the opportunity that'd been presented.

A torrent of fluid was dumped onto my face, a bitter metallic taste invading my mouth, and dosed my glasses, undoubtedly painting them a deep red. The most of it, merely splashed off of me even as I yanked the knife from the bandit's throat. The bastard's hands jumped to cover the hole I'd made in his neck, and that was something that just couldn't be allowed. How dare he.

In the process of pushing him off me, I took his place, slicing his hands to pieces and cutting flesh off his face. Driving my blade repeatedly into him, tearing the life and light from his eyes. An improvised scalpel to work with, the same urgency attributed to saving a life, but just without a surgeon's aim.

Again, again, again, again, again, again, again, again, again, again, again, again, again, again, and again. I didn't stop.

Not until my left arm ached from the pain.

My knife was in his throat again by the time I finished, left there by a hand too tired to hold it anymore. In the end? He looked broken, like a dog's abandoned chew toy. The body I left behind resembled the rat that I believed him to be. A rat that a dog had decided to trap in its jaws, smacking it half a dozen more times against a wall well past what any poor rodent would be able to withstand. I didn't feel any better, I doubt that I was in any better shape.

My only consolation was that he no longer breathed.

Getting my knife back was my next move, with my strength depleted the action came about at a snail's pace. Still bleeding, and my thoughts burning whilst retching my blade free from the dead man's still warm corpse. Simply taking a breath to compose myself after the whole ordeal, reining my racing mind back in.

LEVEL UP!

[2]

wha-

HP: 28 + 1 | Mv: 4

Str: 7 + 1 | Lck: 5 + 1

Mag: 13 + 1 | Def: 7 + 1

Dex: 5 + 1 | Res: 10 + 1

Spd: 9 + 1 | Cha: 7 + 0

God? I swear I'll never smoke again, or drink, or have premarital sex.

Unless murder makes that all null and void. . .

My point still stands,

please?

. . .

"God. Fucking. Damnit," I'd let myself have a moment, not quite praying, just simply sitting on top of the corpse of a man I'd slew. Like some sacrilegious bastardization of a church pew, hoping for it all to just be a bad dream. I didn't get an answer, never really expected to, less the possibility open with how everything was going lately. Stumbling to my feet, I whipped the blood off my knife with the elbow section of my shirt's sleeve. Focussing on trying not to breathe too heavily or bend my injured hand, the initial gushing of my blood from my wounds had slowed to a trickle. The aches, and bleeding synced up with the rhythm of my heartbeat. Joined by the feeling that extra hearts were practically pumping where I'd received my wounds, my bleeding had stemmed greatly, but hadn't stopped. "shit."

Well, a man's dead. . . That same man tried to filet o' fish me, real fuckin rude if you ask me. I don't really enjoy getting cut open, not a hobby of mine really. Nor am I on the precipice of suicidality, but even if I were, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't appreciate it. So all in all we'll call it even, with me taking his life, and him probably taking mine from the blood loss. Fuck this hurts, can't even breathe without flinching from the pain, and the smoke certainly doesn't make it feel any better.

My vision blurred as I moved, my fingers tightening their grip over my knife whilst cutting off a section of my sleeve to act as a makeshift bandage for my other injured hand. My pain peaking with every loop I completed, tying the cloth securely to my palm. Clearing the blood from the lenses coating my glasses came after, the idea finally registering that getting a better look might've helped. The result was a bloody rag of a thing, mostly self contained to the center of my hand and the wound I received. A sharp contrast from the white cloth I'd torn from my long sleeved shirt I'd used for this, more so with how it clung to the wet stickiness of my bare flesh.

I really hope there's morphine out here, the relief of death almost preferable over being stitched back together a second time. That, or reaching the point where the pain could force me to pass out if it meant escaping this. With my blood pulsing throughout my exposed wounds, my various cuts repeatedly summoned a deep burning sensation that I experienced each, and every single time they made contact with the open air.

"Hye,Cnroackwerheareoyu?!" I could hear something, someone out there. Only managing to recognize it as a person because it didn't appear to match any of the other dark red smudges on my lenses. Pairing that with the other lanky figure joining the first just confirmed my suspicion, just more of the same sort of rat as the man before. Ahhhh, this day just keeps on getting better. "Gddomnait,Aisvh,omseodbyucfinkgklliedCnroack!"

Of course, there'd be more there's always more, why am I surprised? Birds of dastardly feathers are bound to flock together.

The metal blade that had been left on the floor, blinked up at me. My decision was then made, I'd fight, better to go down a fighter than a coward. I would've liked to say that I know how to fight, with a sword though? Also no, but I'd rather murder a man with a sword than a knife. Fortantantly, unlike these assholes, I have both a knife and a sword.

Unfortunately for me, I respond to danger with my dominant hand, which as I imagine anyone else would. Too bad that happened to be right, and now that I desperately required it to work, it couldn't. Anything more than the lightest of squeezes would send a spike of agony up my arm, even an idiot could spot the risk, greater still than using the 'wrong' hand for this. It was time to improvise, pulling the shortsword up before dropping my knife into the grasp of my injured side. Grimacing as I did so, I completed the motion to swap blades.

Not even close to comfortable, but functional.

The proceeding fight was. . . messy. They didn't stop my initial rush at them, or at least they didn't seem to try. Cutting at an arm here, stabbing at the collarbone whilst trying to reach a neck there. I felt something hit my right arm, the level of pain didn't change and the blow itself didn't do much to stop me. I hadn't been feeling much of anything after starting, like it was all just stuck lagging behind me.

Their mouths were moving, shouting or screaming I wouldn't know. I can't hear either of them clearly, the voice of the other clashing with the former, but some of the interference may have been from my own screams. The warm scent of blood hung in the air after every strike, unsure whether the coppery taste in my mouth came from myself or one of their mangled ears. Never quite noticed until my chest forced me to take in deeper breaths, everything had a crimson tinge to it, and the flames burning the town only painted the world to be so much more brighter. Despite it all, the scene had been carved into my retina, and I started to notice signs of death splattered against the destroyed homes around us.

That could have been the blood loss talking, or that I've just been progressively losing track of time.

LEVEL UP!

[3]

HP: 29 + 1 | Mv: 4

Str: 8 + 1 | Lck: 6 + 1

Mag: 14 + 1 | Def: 8 + 1

Dex: 6 + 1 | Res: 11 + 1

Spd: 10 + 1 | Cha: 7 + 0

The darkness was playing tricks on my addled mind, the paranoia going so far as to stab the dead men again to ensure their deaths. My steady breathing slowly returning in shuddersome gulps, and the accompanying shakes were present throughout the rest of my beaten form. A fish out of water, supposing if a bear had beat the shit out of said fish. Still buzzing from my pseudo high, half drunk off the pain, half drunk on the adrenaline, and half drunk from a lack of blood. Everything was quiet again, a smoothing break to my remaining and functional senses.

It was too early to relax.

CRACK!

I couldn't hear it hit me, too far gone for something like that to register. What I could quickly tell was it felt like something broke, or snapped. Whatever had occurred had definitely broken a bone. I didn't hit the ground this time, even without expecting to be hit I stayed firm.

A part of me wanted to.

That was my only saving grace before the foreign weight was suddenly pulled off of me, sending me sprawling to the floor. My left arm falls dead, stuck against my side, and my broken sword slips from my loosened grip. Knife too. I'm not entirely sure that I could try to make it rise again, too far gone to be of much help. The initial strike shook me down to my bones, falling to the floor sent aftershocks to whatever ran deeper. To the ancient instinctual part of my lizard brain.

I managed to scramble back onto my feet, a sudden burst of speed like I weighed close to nothing. He was there when I turned, him and his stupid fucking axe. Others seemed to be coming up to join him, he had turned to them and waved them over. He was just standing there! Taking his sweet time savoring his chance to put an end to me, just like the rest of his rat bastard friends.

There was no stumbling left in me as I moved, a shambling maybe, but the speed I had gained still lingered. So I approached, dead set on trying one last time. It was once I had pushed myself a few steps that I realized, that I really didn't mind if I died from this.

The man with the huge axe noticed me coming closer, of course he did, not like I was capable of being very subtle at the moment. His stance seemed lax, ready, it irritated me. So much, more than it should've really. Bile seemed to rise in my chest, smoldering as smoke threatened to clog my throat. Just as I took in what felt like my last breath, and right before the moment when his axe would be tearing my body clean in two. My right hand lingered forward with as much as I could leap and -

BANG!

My hand blew up.

I was tired of everything resisting me, and the flash had felt like such a relief. The limb I'd repeatedly risked was still intact, no different in terms of damage even as it hung in the air. Where the man used to be, I now occupied. The ground was where he lay presently, emitting an extra dose of smoke from the place he was getting up from.

Can a man not just stay dead?

My veins pulsed the second after I thought of such a thing, small flames gathered at the edge of my fingertips and that very same flash hit the fucker a second time. There were patches of white where his face would be, previously only a pattern of peach and red littered the same space. The world felt smaller, darker, and slower after killing him. My eyelids had fallen halfway.

Not, yet.

The other figures were still in view, they had to go too. The flashing came easier, slower to conjure, but simpler as I went about using it for a third time. Orange flame building in my palm, before I sent it flying and catching the one closest to me with an explosion in tune with when my heart pulsed.

The following ball of flame that followed was preceded by the recipient falling over from it, and presumably permanently so.

LEVEL UP!

[4]

HP: 30 + 0 | Mv: 4

Str: 9 + 0 | Lck: 7 + 0

Mag: 15 + 1 | Def: 9 + 0

Dex: 7 + 0 | Res: 12 + 0

Spd: 11 + 1 | Cha: 7 +0

I stopped after a 5th, the visage of the last one appearing far too small for me to hit, and most importantly, finish off. Oddly drained too, my mind more sluggish after pouring so much effort into those hellish balls of fire. Out of breath, and out of energy to chase, I turned back to the corpses I'd left behind. My limping form was the only thing moving beside the flickering fire surrounding me, that's what I was too tired to hope for at least.

I returned to where I'd dropped my knife, treating it like some holy thing as I picked it up.

Holding my knife came to me like a chore, but just as much was keeping my eyes open, both of these things focusing my attention so I could turn on the things around me. If I stayed awake, and aware then nothing new would pop up. So long as I kept going, and held my head up. Everything was going to be okay.

This is just a bad dream. . . a shitty nightmare.

Little sparks wafted off my empty palms still, and I could've sworn that they were steaming hot. Remnants of the blaze I'd wrought, or so I thought as my knife sat clutched in my grip. Hiding any sign of the fire coming from that very same hand as my blade lay trapped within. Just not too far off my fingers clammed up from the cold night's air, the feeling traveling down my bones like they were on the verge of collapsing. My right hand didn't even ache anymore, it had stopped bleeding I think, but it had gotten even harder for it to move. The fires around me, both far and close blurred just as much as they seemed to shine. My stomach rolled, curling me to the point of puking, but nothing would come up at the time. The world I could see ahead of me seemed to bend and blur, reminding me of spinning whilst sitting on an office chair right before you'd fall.

And then everything went black.


I'm not leaving my Rwby story out to dry, this one just got finished sooner, other one will be posted soon give or take a few days to polish some details. Ngl, quite proud of myself with this one, smug even you might say. Tired too, the good kind of tired though.

Nothing better than a ~7k word doc at 1:35 am to get the blood pumping.

*Note: I'm being lazy and using a single number for whether or not the % chance to get a stat point. So like I'd get 15, and only receive stat points if the % is greater than the randomly generated number. (15, 50%, yes) (15, 10%, no) Understand?

Tbh, it's much more high risk/high reward than if I were to do it individually for each stat. But this is a fic, not a game, not here for tedious shit. Learned to not get into the weeds so much, that's how my other fics died.

So, my unit? Si? Look the guy that is based off me, but isn't me has said stat/details below.

Originally, Lv 1

HP: 28 | Mv: 4

Str: 7 | Lck: 5

Mag: 12 | Def: 7

Dex: 5 | Res: 10

Spd: 9 | Cha: 7

(for the early game? All my shit cracked, I'll admit it. However, allow me to introduce my equally broken growth rates before you object.)

HP: 40% | Mv: 4

Str: 35% | Lck: 50%

Mag: 65% | Def: 30%

Dex: 35% | Res: 50%

Spd: 55% | Cha: 10%

Now you might say, 'ain't this a little broken'? And you'd be right. But I'd counter by saying it's the same amount of growth rate that Byleth has, at 370% in total. Same with the initial stat total of 90. (I used them as a benchmark for balance, what I should be aiming for at least.) And since there are characters with higher totals it made sense to set it to 370%, maybe make a parallel to how the player and player character are connected or some shit for plot reason or something. Made sense at the time, I don't mind if its spoilers, not that hard of a thing to assume.

Funny story actually, when I was figuring out the ballpark for my stats, the stat total was 85 and looked like this before doubling checking my math.

HP: 28 | Mv: 4

Str: 7 | Lck: 5

Mag: 11 | Def: 6

Dex: 4 | Res: 9

Spd: 9 | Cha: 6

Was really tempted to put that five into Cha or Mag, just for laughs. Decided against it, maybe I'll write a blooper if I have time.

Admittedly, making Charisma into my dump stat effectively probably wasn't my best idea, but I'm going with the idea that my cha is super low due to not knowing the language. (I mean, you don't need to speak the local language to be likable, but it does help especially if your going to lead a battalion etc etc)

I wasn't sure how to scale defense and resistance off of myself, like I don't wanna burn/stab myself to see? I just made them my secondary dump stats? (Shrug)

I- I don know how to determine luck. If we're going to base it off real life experiences? When I lose, I lose big, and when I win I win big. I get the extreme ends of luck, honestly surprised I haven't lost a limb at this point in life lol. (I'll ramble for a bit to get you to understand, first day I attended an event while quarantine was about, I got Covid. On the other side, I found a gold ring in my room once, and that to my parents knowledge doesn't belong to anyone in the family. I don't get either.) So I think all that averages it out to 50%.

Speed? I ran track and field, I wasn't as good as some of the real fast fuckers, but I did decent. Should've trained more, chem was kicking my ass tho so I dropped it.

In general I guessed how good people's handwriting would look, so I ended up with a DEX of 35%. (Don't ask me to do a back flip)

Magic, what is it magical potential? The fucking force? At least with the gamer system you can maybe guess that magic is linked to your intelligence. I assume with fire emblem it's linked to your ability to focus, and since you can't heal yourself I guess pain disrupts your ability to heal yourself. Like a chakra thing? (In a very ooc sense, for lots of fire emblem si fics out there, most don't have the si using magic, truly a missed opportunity, I want to write out the experience of using magic, this is my excuse)

Strength, I'm not a noodle, but I'm also not 7 ft so I'm never going to be able to fight Dedue or Rapheal in hand to hand. I mean, in irl I'm a busy college student so as much as I want to go to the gym, I can only really do it once a week. (very sad)

Health 40%, middle of the pack. Eh, not bad, not terrible, not great. Checks out to me.

Currently

Lv 4 (38/133 exp) (7 Mt steel knife)

HP: 30 | Mv: 4

Str: 9 | Lck: 7

Mag: 16 | Def: 9

Dex: 7 | Res: 12

Spd: 12 | Cha: 6

Bandits (enemy stats in this ballpark, you won't see the math often for this story, but if you want to know, here it is)

Lv 2 (5 Mt iron sword)

HP: 29 | Mv: 5

Str: 11 | Lck: 8

Mag: 6 | Def: 7

Dex: 7 | Res: 2

Spd: 7 | Cha: 5

Axe dude Lv 5 (8 Mt iron axe)

HP: 30 | Mv: 5

Str: 15 | Lck: 9

Mag: 6 | Def: 9

Dex: 8 | Res: 3

Spd: 8 | Cha: 6

Ps: Is very sad to admit, but I've been more productive in the past 3 days than I've been in the past 3 weeks. Or at least from the outside looking in, that is. I'm in a writing mood you could say. My 2 brain cells have been working overtime, so much so that they've unionized and are asking for sick leave, and hazard pay. The fucking rats. (little do they know I paid the Pinkertons 10 dollars to take care of em for me) I've been busy. Still working on my dialogue, but the chapter for the other story should be out soon. Figured out to focus on 2 things so my hyperfixations don't drain me of creative energy, we'll see if it works out.