"Sir, we've received an urgent report from the east."
Within the damp confines of a towering stone fortress was a well-lit, well-furnished bedchamber. Its owner was rudely awakened by one of his many aides bursting into the room with a report. Sitting up, the overweight man's face turned crimson from rage as he hurled the nearest object – a brass candlestick – directly at the unfortunate servant's head.
The servant's legs crumpled beneath them, and blood began to flow from a gash on their head. Yet, before they hit the ground, a metal band hidden beneath their collar pulsed a sick grey, and their body snapped back upright.
"You idiot! Stay out of my chambers!"
"But sir, it's urgent."
"Guards, take this faulty product away and re-educate it."
Despite the urgency of the servant's tone, the Baron made no attempt to hear the message. Two armour-clad guards rushed in from outside the door and lifted the servant by his armpits.
"The Starman was found!"
In a desperate bid to be spared the gruelling torture he knew was to come, the servant blurted out his message. Raising his hand, the two guards dragging away the unfortunate messenger immediately stopped.
"So he was captured? Great!"
Baron Greve didn't wait for the rest of the message, instantly assuming the best case scenario. The servant fidgeted anxiously, trying to resist the compulsion of the shackle around his neck that drove him to say something surely suicidal.
Yet it was in vain. The power of the collar was too strong.
"No, sir… he escaped."
The Baron stopped mid-motion, the bottle of wine he'd uncorked in celebration trembling in his hand as rage flooded his system. Turning faster than a man of his size should have been able, he hurled the wine bottle at the servant, who was still being held by the two guards.
Glass flew everywhere as the bottle hit him square on and shattered into a million pieces. But the servant was unable to express his pain before the Baron appeared in front of him, his chubby hand holding his throat like a vise.
"It WHAT! Incompetent, the lot of you!"
Spittle flew from his mouth as he effortlessly lifted the unfortunate messenger into the air. Their legs kicked desperately at the air, and their fingers clawed at the hand around their neck uselessly.
"Where was it!"
"E… East… in… Feldrow…"
Despite slowly turning blue, the servant was forced to answer the Baron, even at the cost of his own life. The metal collar glowed with a grey light, and then a black light as it compelled the captured messenger to speak by forcing the last breath from his lungs.
With his piece said, the servant went slack, his eyes glassy and his face blue.
"Do you know what's in the east? Do you?! The filthy fucking elves! If it makes it onto their land, I'll never be able to reclaim it!"
The Baron's face bulged as veins wriggled beneath his skin, strained to their utter limit by the man's rage. Turning his hate fuelled gaze to the two unfortunate guards trembling nearby, he hurled the servant's corpse at them.
They were thrown backwards, their bodies ragdolling from the force of the blow, and their armour denting.
"Send out everyone! Stop it from escaping! NOW!"
Baron Greve's rage filled roar echoed across the entire keep, as he stormed out of his room, crushing the unconscious guards beneath his feet.
Where he passed, servants either got out of the way, or died as he carved a blood filled path to the stables. Finally calming down a slight bit, he donned his war armour and saddled his favourite horse, before riding out of the stables, his men not too far behind him.
************************
"So, Wren, are you sssome kind of royal or sssomething?"
After an entire day of walking in awkward silence, Morgan couldn't take it anymore and turned to his red-headed companion. With a sigh, they rubbed between their brows and turned to look at him, feelings of apprehension and worry flowing off them in waves.
"It's complicated. Back before the whole coup, and my father's assassination I was the sole heir to the throne. Now however I'm not sure. The throne is mine by right, but I lack the strength to reclaim it, hence why I'm headed to the east. I plan to delve into the great dungeon to hone my skills and gather stronger equipment, before eventually returning to reclaim my kingdom."
He nodded, because that's all he could do. It hadn't bothered him too much that his friend was someone in a high position - he'd known plenty of people like that back on earth.
No, what bothered him was the uncertainty. He thrived on facts, and to have potentially vital information withheld from him had niggled at his mind all day.
"How about you Morgan? Why are you headed east?"
"I don't know, I needed a direction to run and Issy gave me one. You'd be better off asking them. Actually, what'sss in any direction? I know jack all about thisss world."
While reluctant to disturb his friends concentration, he figured they could stop to chat for a bit. Their focus turned to irritation as the green glow faded from their skin and they opened their recently regrown eyelids.
"... The elves are to... the east. Could you... get Wren to explain the rest... I need to focus...?"
Turning his gaze expectantly to the redhead, they sighed, and started speaking.
"We're on the Trilgar continent, it's the largest known continent and is home to almost all the races."
Morgan nodded, committing it to memory. "And where are we?"
"Currently we're in the Malgorn kingdom, which is situated in the centre of the continent and is the largest kingdom. To the east are the Oldergrowth forests, home to the elves, while further yet east past the divider range is the land bridge, which connects the main continent to the Rot lands.
To the north is the mountainous regions, home to the dwarves, gnomes and halflings. They're an irate bunch that doesn't talk much with the other kingdoms, but their work is without equal.
West is the arid lands, they're vast sandy plains that spread as far as the eye can see, and I've even heard rumours of underground oceans just as vast. Those lands are home to the Sirens, and the Lizardfolk. A bit further south of the deserts, are the Vast Marshes, home to more of the Lizardfolk.
Finally, in the south is the demilands. You name it, it'll be there, marshes, lakes, forest, savannas. It's the second largest single kingdom on the continent, and is split into hundreds of smaller tribes. Though between you and me, I'd avoid their lands if possible, they're all barbaric brutes."
"Thank you Wren, ssshall we find a place to set up camp for the night?"
Morgan began looking around for a reasonably sized clearing to spend the night in. The sun was sinking below the horizon, and it would be too dangerous to travel at night. Even now, in the evening twilight, he could hear the distant howls of wolves.
While walking he scratched at his left arm despite the thick bandages hiding it from view. It had been a constant source of discomfort all day, likely because of the blood caked across his body. A sudden small jolt of sharp pain travelled through his stomach, but faded just as quickly.
Still, the faint sound of water caught his ear, as his tongue flickered out instinctively to pinpoint the source. The faint smell of mud lingered on the air, infused with the taste of fresh water. Calling out to Wren, he stepped off the path and followed the scent to its source.
Bursting into a small clearing, he was greeted with the sight of a shallow river bubbling on by. A small thrill of accomplishment rushed through him, as despite his initial misgivings, his new sense was proving increasingly useful.
A few seconds later, the bushes rustled again and Wren stepped out.
"Could you ssstart a fire Wren? I'm going to rinse sssome of this blood off."
"Sure thing, could you fill this pot while you're at it?"
The pot in question had been hanging from Wren's back the entire time, it was iron, with a few dents in the side, but overall of good quality. Taking it, he wandered over to the river bank and filled it up before setting it aside.
His face reflected back at him in the water, barely visible and distorted by ripples. Yet clearer than he'd seen it in days.
He could barely recognise the face he saw, broken nose, black eyes, and covered in a layer of dirt and blood. The person reflected in the water looked like a brute, not a scientist. How had it come to this?
It had only been a bit over a week since he'd crashed here, and since then everything had spiralled out of control faster than he could react. Nearly every day had been a new battle, both figuratively and mentally as he fought to retain his freedom, and life.
Heck, he'd even killed a man. The system left no room for hope in that regard.
Reluctantly, he turned his attention to the panel that had been pulsing gently in the corner of his vision all day. It had appeared shortly after he'd escaped the town, just before he'd caught up to Wren, and in his haste he'd pushed it aside, having only caught a glimpse of it.
Morgan knew what it said. As much as he tried to deny it, he'd read enough of the prompt to know what it meant, he'd just… wanted to believe he wasn't a murderer.
With a sigh, he mentally pulled the prompt to the centre of his vision.
[Human (Yurn) L25 – Slain: 53Xp Acquired]
[Level up! +2 Intelligence, +2 Wisdom, +3 Dexterity, +2 Vitality, +1 Agility]
There it was, the truth, in a form that was impossible to deny. He was a murderer.
All it had taken was a week for his morals to break in the face of danger. A week. The word rang through his head like the drums of damnation. Gritting his teeth in anger, he forced his guilt down. Logic dictated that the strongest and most fit for survival, would survive. It was basic Darwinism.
His would-be assailants were dead – too stupid to remain quiet – and he'd lived, end of the story. What better way though to wash away his lingering guilt, than to physically wash it away?
He snapped from his thoughts and turned his gaze back to the dark water in which he could faintly make out his reflection, still covered in blood. Scratching at an itch on his neck, he was about to slip into the water when something caught his eye.
Metal glinted on the water, not in it, on it. His reflection stared back at him, frozen in shock as the last rays of light glinted off the metallic strand running up his neck.
Frantically, he scooped a handful of water and splashed it on his neck, scrubbing the blood off as best he could. His fingers slid almost effortlessly across the smooth metal as it deformed around his touch, identical to the way his normal skin did.
The surface of the water quickly settled, and he leant in closer to get a better look.
It spread up from beneath the bandages wrapped around his chest. Thin veins, each no thicker than a hair, climbed up the outside of his jaw bone, while growing steadily thicker the closer they got to the bandages.
There was a point, just above the height of his shoulders where it got so bad he couldn't find any of his normal skin in the darkness. Fumbling with the bandages he flung them off his body and looked down in shock.
Metal covered the entirety of his torso, replacing every bit of flesh, its root like tendrils reached down beneath the edge of his waistband, and out across his right shoulder. His left arm was almost entirely gone, with only his hand from the palm onwards still being mostly flesh.
Hair like traces wrapped up around his fingers in a complex web, that slowly closed at a rate visible to the naked eye.
It flexed with each breath, shifted with his muscles as they flexed, and was only slightly colder than his regular flesh. It was a perfect, metallic analog for living tissue.
Oddly enough, Morgan didn't feel much fear as he watched it consuming his flesh, instead he was curious. He wanted to know everything he could about it, what it was, how it spread...
Tentatively, he jabbed his left forearm, the sensation travelling perfectly, as the metal skin flexed beneath his finger. It was astounding, somehow it was able to perfectly replicate the sensation he would have felt with his flesh skin, while still retaining its underlying metallic properties.
He had to show someone else.
Eyes gleaming with excitement he rushed over to the seated Wren and Iskandar, and sat by the growing fire.
"Wren, Issy, look at thisss! It feels exactly the same asss my normal skin!"
Wren turned, initially disinterested, then suddenly shocked and worried as he took in the sight of the light glinting off Morgan's largely metallic body. Issy however, seemed to share his curiosity as they leant forward slightly on their log.
"Um… Morgan, are you feeling okay? I mean, last time you were completely freaking out about your… changes."
"Last time I was acting irrationally; now I've had a moment to familiarise myself with the changesss, and it's astounding. Initially, I wasss worried the affected limb would become a glorified statue, but look at thisss… full mobility! And I can feel everything perfectly!"
To display his point he spun his left arm around a few times, stretching it as far as it would go. Then he repeated the display with his right arm, carefully avoiding injuring his wrist.
For once, Wren seemed more concerned than him as his words caught in his throat.
"…Truly, it is fascinating. Look how much it has… spread. What of your internals? Does the material… affect only the surface?"
"You're looking a little pale, maybe you should calm down a bit Morgan."
The red-head reached out to rest his hand on Morgan's shoulder, but hesitated, his eyes tracing the metallic vines growing through their skin. Was it safe to touch him, what if it hurt him? Unsure, his hand hovered awkwardly in the air.
Ignoring Wren, Morgan shuffled closer to Iskandar and began discussing different theories. This was what he needed, something familiar, and not trying to kill him. Scientific discussion was just that, and he felt his dour mood improving.
It helped him to ignore the issues of the past few days, and the existential dread of what was happening to him. However, when they reached the point in their discussion where they discussed taking samples from his nails, he felt something was off.
A stabbing pain pulsed through his stomach as his heart began to beat faster, and he started to feel nauseous. It was back, sharper than before. Stopping mid-sentence, he frowned and put a hand over his stomach, which was quickly noted by the other two.
"…Morgan are you… okay? You're looking… quite pale."
"Is everything okay? Jeez! You need to lie down Morgan, you're as pale as a ghost."
He couldn't understand what they were talking about, apart from his stomach pains he felt amazing. Like for the first time in a while, he had nothing to worry about.
Before he could object, Wren had already rounded the fire and offered him a cup of boiled water, he'd set aside a few minutes ago to cool. Nodding in gratitude, Morgan took the offered cup and downed the entirety.
"Urgh… I'm starting to feel sick, are you two okay with me calling it a night?"
No matter his age, he'd always found that most ailments faded after a good nap, and while he was unsure where this sudden nausea came from, he assumed sleep would work all the same.
"Go ahead, I'll take first watch."
With the permission of his companions he found a reasonably clear patch of grass and laid down, despite never getting around to washing due to his sudden excitement, he had managed to rinse a good deal of his body off, the rest could be done in the morning.
After tossing and turning a few times, he eventually fell asleep.