Day ?, Phase World (7)

My right shoulder and arm throbbed from the dozens of wooden spears I had sent flying. When I checked what remained of my Phase Power, it had fallen all the way to 200. It had been less a first fight than a one-sided exercise in violence, and both the depleted Phase Power and the ache in my muscles made it plain I had gotten too worked up and botched the way I spent my strength.

"Hoo."

I wiped the sweat from my brow with my sleeve. The thrill of combat still had my heart hammering, and my whole body ran hot. Rolling my right arm, I thought back to the aberrants that had trembled, choked with rage. Why had the ones I'd projected my Search ability onto reacted like that? Because its efficiency had climbed by a hundred percent or more?

Come to think of it, whenever I controlled Phase Power, it had never passed through the brain. Was there a connection? And if I turned it on a person, what would happen? A dangerous thought flickered through my head and was gone. I shook it off as if to scrub the notion clean away, and turned my attention to the No-Head Mantises.

The big one's belly had burst, threadlike entrails spilling out, and its torso was pitted with beak marks while the joints of its foreclaws hung in shreds. The smaller one was worse. One foreleg had been severed at the root, and its torso and belly had been run through by a tail so many times that the body was barely holding together. Not one of its six legs was whole, and with one wooden spear driven through its torso and two more through its belly, pinning it into the earth, it looked for all the world like an insect specimen in a science classroom.

Hmm. Every so often you see a mantis crushed under a car, guts blown out, still alive and writhing for a long while. These were dead, weren't they? Luck had been with me, I decided. The two No-Head Mantises had thrown themselves into the brawl of their own accord, and as if by prior agreement the Lowest-Rank Variants had latched onto them — which was how I had managed to bring them down so cleanly.

I took up the sturdiest of the remaining throwing spears and looked back at Franc. She seemed moved by the spear work I had shown her, both hands clasped tight as she watched me.

I wonder what Franc did for a living, when she was alive. Even while I lost my head and flung spears without restraint, she had stayed composed, as if coolly taking apart every movement the aberrants made. Was that her old profession showing through, or had the time she spent as an aberrant shaped her into this?

"Let's go clean up. We've still got dying land penguins and snout-wolves to finish off."

At that, Franc's eyes went round.

"What, did that startle you? Oh — the part about finishing them off? There are still ones down there that aren't dead. If they gorge on the Phase Power pouring out of the corpses and evolve to the next stage, there's no telling what those wounds will turn into. Better to kill them before that."

Hmm. Once I explained, Franc's expression shifted in a subtle way — worried for me, and at the same time a little proud. Then she started acting strange, hesitating, lifting a hand only to lower it again. I couldn't tell why, but the aberrants still drawing breath were sucking down Phase Power without pause even now. I needed them dead quickly, so I climbed down the trunk and slipped carefully into the water.

Aberrant wreckage drifted all around me, and the sour stench wrinkled my face. Careful not to let any of it splash into my mouth, I made my way over to the island.

"Ugh..."

Setting foot on dry ground for the first time in three days, the feeling of standing on the earth with both legs was faintly strange. They say someone who has lived long aboard a ship gets landsick the moment they come ashore. Was this something like that? And yet the Phase Power the aberrants had vented from their bodies as they died was circling around me.

...?

I had already guessed it wouldn't soak into me, so that much I could set aside. First, the aberrants had to die. In the short while I had spent swimming over, a land penguin whose internal Phase Power had climbed to 25 was still alive and thrashing, guts spilled and all — and from the split wound, foam boiled as the entrails were slowly dragged back inside its body. A truly revolting speed of regeneration.

Huh? Wait. Is this thing trying to evolve?

I gripped the spear shaft and drew in close. It heaved ragged, wheezing breaths and began to burn hatred at me through black eyes like buttonholes.

"...Go quietly."

Kweeeee!

The instant I raised the wooden spear high to drive it down, the land penguin shrieked and swung one wing my way. Blood pooled on the ground and filth leaking from its severed entrails sprayed across me, fouling my whole body. I had meant to dodge, but my reflexes were shot and I took every bit of it. I had relaxed far too much against something already dying. A lesson worth remembering.

When I failed to get clear and ended up drenched in the mess, Franc beside me startled — then immediately fixed the land penguin with a gaze blazing with fury, her fists trembling. The sheer murder in that look made me swallow hard. Was this the first time I had seen Franc truly angry? Was she furious because it had splattered filth on me? If I hadn't forbidden her from using electricity freely, this thing would have been roasted crisp by her lightning.

Kie! Kaaa!! Kwaaa!

I watched the land penguin thrashing on its side and screaming, then drove the wooden spear into its heart.

Thuk.

The sensation of the spear tip parting living flesh traveled naked up through my palm, vivid enough that I thought I might shudder. Spear lodged in its heart, the land penguin sent me one last look drowned in hatred, and died. There was no prick of conscience. In the Phase World, killing and being killed — the strong devouring the weak — was simply the way of things.

Rubbing my palm on my pants, I swept the area with Search to see whether anything else still lived, and found one more land penguin drawing breath. My thrown spear must have luckily missed its heart. A wooden spear jutted diagonally from its flank, and it was still alive, glaring at me with hateful eyes while its beak worked open and shut.

"..."

Thuk.

I shattered that one's heart and cut off its breath as well, then sought out the Long-snouted Lean Wolf whose scalp had been peeled clean away, one eyeball slid loose, the whole of it trembling, and broke its neck. Neck snapped, the snout-wolf convulsed, letting out strange breaths — kihi, shiii — and then went still.

It wasn't particularly hot, but I wiped the sweat running down my forehead with my sleeve and studied the three aberrants I had killed. The latter two hadn't shown it, but the one whose belly had split had bulged with muscle and tried to regenerate the instant its Phase Power hit 25. Which meant that the moment the Phase Power stored in a body reached 25, they evolved to the next stage?

Then what were the No-Head Mantises? Their Phase Power had been over 50.

Don't tell me those were Low-Rank Variants. I took down Low-Rank Variants with throwing spears alone? Hard to believe.

Hah. I had thought it more than once already, but Otherworld Survival Studies and Aberrant Biology taught you, in rough strokes, how to stay alive — while leaving out every part that actually mattered. If I went back to reality in three days and told people what I had been through, would they believe me? They'd probably just figure some shitty high schooler was full of himself and talking crap. Even looking at it myself, it was such a wreck that I felt I had burned through a lifetime's luck just to survive.

Whether anyone believes me or not, what does it matter. I survived. That's enough.

Even so, the thought kept coming back. Had people truly not known, and so simply failed to write it down? I figured the world held a great many people smarter than me — more knowledge, or keener wisdom, or at the very least more years behind them, experience of living that far outstripped mine. And yet survival information this thin, biology this lacking, didn't make sense. Was it strange of me that a conspiracy theory rose on its own: some scheme by the conglomerates and the politicians to keep hold of what they already had?

While the stray thoughts filed past in a line, Franc drifted quietly into view before my eyes, worry written on her face. Hands clasped behind her back, upper body tipped a little to one side as she peered into my eyes — I was staring wordlessly at the snout-wolf's carcass, and it seemed to be weighing on her more than a little. I thought I knew why, so I tossed the bloodied spear aside and spoke.

"I'm not so fragile that killing aberrants means I need a therapist. I'm fine."

I tried to smile for her sake, but the muscles of my face refused to move the way I wanted. So I stole a glance at Franc's body, floating right there in front of me. Those petals, heart-flutteringly lovely, lovely enough that I wanted to lick them, and those full breasts defying gravity — the sight of them sent the corners of my mouth climbing as if they might ascend straight to heaven!

Among the nudes you could trip over easily enough on the internet, plenty of models had a sharp triangle between the thighs that left the sex starkly bare, and Franc was no different. Thanks to that, no matter how hard she tried to press her thighs together and cover herself, her most private place showed itself with almost no effort. Excellent for appreciating! Mmm. My mouth was curling too far, so I rubbed it with my palm and let out a long sigh.

Anyway, I had won. I had fought nineteen aberrants and come out on top!

"All I did was fling spears from a distance, cheap as that sounds. But a win's a win, isn't it?"

To me, grinning as I said it, Franc squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head from side to side, denying with everything in her that there had been anything cheap about it. Seeing her that cute, a feeling rose in me that conspiracy theories and the rest of it didn't matter one bit. I wanted to stay with this beautiful ghost of a girl for a long, long time to come, and I had no wish to go stirring up beehives for nothing. What would change if someone like me — no power, no connections, no money — stepped forward? So even if the thread of that life ran thin, I would live long and quietly with Franc.

"Come to think of it, the Phase Power pouring out of these things isn't soaking into me either."

I could feel the aberrants' Phase Power, drifting around me since earlier, refusing to enter my body — flowing a little about me, then vanishing. I muttered it while prodding the spear-slain snout-wolf, and Franc's eyes went round once more. With a look of pure frustration she mouthed words and flew about me in a flurry. Simple feelings I could read easily enough. Speech strung together out of that many words, I could not.

"What's wrong? Did something happen? Same as back at the tree — it feels like there's something you want to say."

At that, Franc pointed around me and mouthed with all her might, and when I still couldn't understand she beat at her chest in frustration.

"You're frustrated, Franc. So am I."

Now she covered her face with both hands, curled herself into a ball, and began to flail both legs. She must have been thoroughly fed up.

"Sorry, sorry. Let me clear these away first, and I'll write the alphabet on the ground, so just hold on a little longer."

At my words her face turned apologetic at once. She stretched both arms out, clung onto my back, and started rubbing her cheek against mine.

If only Franc had a body. She was lavishing me with closeness, affection spilling over, and I couldn't feel a bit of it. Too cruel by half! Wiping the blood spattered on my cheek with my sleeve, I looked over the island, no larger than an elementary school playground. Blood covered the ground in every direction, some twenty aberrant corpses strewn across it, and around the island itself pieces of carcass bobbed on the water.

If I had been in my right mind, the sensible thing would have been to leave at once without a thought of staying. But it was already late, and there was plenty of fresh meat, and I wanted to take the chance to put some protein back in me. Leaving the corpses as they were felt unclean somehow, and I doubted that staring at them sprawled there, leaking blood and guts, would do my head any favors. Better to pile them in one place and cover them with branches so I wouldn't have to look.

I set about gathering them as I moved. First I set aside the land penguin that had died to my throwing spear and was in the best condition, and started hauling the rest to the island's edge, smallest first. Last of all I approached the No-Head Mantis that had died with five wooden spears driven through its torso and belly together, and the two-tailed fox run clean through alongside it, as if the mantis had been giving it a piggyback.

Up close, the carcasses were an even worse wreck. The forelegs dangled, the joints where they met the torso chewed ragged by the two-tailed fox; the torso and belly were full of holes leaking entrails and fluid; the hind legs had been gnawed here and there and were a breath from snapping. It was the same sight Search had shown me, but with color laid over it the reality came sharply alive. Well. They're actual corpses. Of course they look real.

Anyway, these forelegs. They really were like blades. An ordinary mantis's forelegs are for gripping, not for cutting — which, I supposed, was why these were aberrants. The No-Head Mantis's forelegs must have sheared through aberrant flesh and bone and wooden spears any number of times, and still the edge was nothing to scoff at. Even the right ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠foreleg, which looked as though it had come down on that Long-snouted Lean Wolf's hard skull several times over, had only dulled a little along the cutting edge. Its hardness sat about level with the horn awl in my hand.

Is the blade weak, or is that wolf's skull just that hard? More to the point —

"I think I could use this as a weapon."

The No-Head Mantis's foreleg had two joints, and the blade was fixed only along the middle span. That edge ran sixty centimeters. Cut free, it looked more than usable as a sword. I ran a hand along the spine of the blade. Cool, raspy, slick. Not a pleasant feeling. I would make a grip and wrap cord around it.

I drew the horn awl and tried to strike the joint of the intact foreclaw and tear it free. Not as hard as the blade itself, but stubbornly tough all the same. Thank heaven I never once considered fighting these things head-on. Dozens of strikes later I tore it loose, then closed my hand around the stretch from the joint to where the blade began — the part that, on a sword, would be the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hilt. What you could roughly call a grip ran thirteen centimeters, and the blade sixty-two, so the whole of it felt something like a single-edged one-handed sword. A little thin through the middle, but wrap cord around the grip and it would sit just right.

I gave it a swing. The balance sat toward the grip, and it was remarkably easy to wield — a touch lighter than the claw spear, and swinging it this way and that drew a satisfying shwik, shwik from the air. Aside from the feeling of holding a cockroach in my bare hand. I fashioned a bow drill from what I had kept in my uniform pocket, took out the cord I had set aside, wound it round and round the grip, and tied it off. A deeply satisfying green sword was complete. Should I call it a Claw Blade?

Franc, who had watched me produce a weapon on the spot, clapped her hands with a face that all but shouted amazing. And as she did, a faraway look came over her, as if she were turning over some old memory. I almost asked why, then decided against it. With the excitement of battle settling I was tired, and above all ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I was ravenously hungry. I wanted to eat.

"Let's finish cleaning up."

Moving quickly, I gathered every aberrant carcass on the west side of the island and began butchering a land penguin with the horn awl. My skill was a mess, but with the help of Analysis I peeled the hide with care and spread it neatly in a sunny spot. I might have a use for it later. Then I glared at the land penguin, now a mass of crimson meat. Even at a glance there looked to be a great deal worth eating — beyond any comparison with a Long-snouted Lean Wolf, a two-tailed fox, or a big field rat!

Which part would taste best, I wondered. I had no particular hobby of ripping wings off, there wasn't much leg to speak of, and it was as good as having no neck. The breast barely had any meat on the ribs. Which left, in the end, nothing but belly.

"...But is it all right to cut meat with the Claw Blade?"

When I carefully touched the edge, it did have a gritty, squeaking feel to it, and beside me Franc shook her head from side to side. Nothing for it. I tore off a heap of leaves from the moisture tree, squeezed the water out of them, and washed the horn awl and my hands. If the water nearby hadn't all been contaminated, I would have washed properly.

I gripped the land penguin's thick-looking belly meat with the horn awl and my hands, tore it free, and started threading it onto a bark-stripped wooden spear the way you'd skewer fish cakes. When the work was done, I had a whole thirty meat skewers, each about a kilogram.

"This much and I'll eat until I burst. I wonder what land penguin tastes like."

Listening to my stomach growl, I cut branches from the moisture tree at the center of the island and set about making a fire. While I worked, Franc flew this way and that, looking extremely happy — so happy it felt like too much. She had been acting strange for a while now. Anyway, I made the bow drill again, untying the cord I had bound around the Claw ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Blade's grip, and spun it at an absurd speed with Phase Power. I hadn't even put in anything like dry grass, and fire burst up with a whoosh and startled me.

Whoa. Spin it fast enough and it just catches.

I immediately gathered small grass and moisture-tree leaves that had fallen and dried stiff on the ground, got a proper fire going, then stuck five of the land penguin skewers beside the campfire and started roasting them. Sitting on bare ground made my backside hurt, so I fetched the hide I had peeled and spread it out, which was better. Raw hide had a squishy give to it that was a bit much. Still better than hurting.

Then I looked at Franc. She was sitting quietly beside me, watching the campfire. The flames and the shimmer rising off her spirit form looked somehow kindred. Noticing my gaze, she turned to me with sparkling eyes, so I wrote the alphabet from A to Z in the dirt with a twig and spoke.

"Tell me what you were trying to say earlier. Maybe it'll be a word I know."

Franc smiled softly and began to point to the letters, one by one, taking her time. I wrote down each one she touched, and two words took shape — then she added two more.

To reality I understood well enough. What was the first part? I glanced at Franc. Her face had brightened a little; she seemed excited, the way she had been earlier. But seeing that I wore a look of pure incomprehension, she smiled faintly and shook her head. So it didn't matter much if I failed to get it. If something had been wrong with me, there was no way she would have looked that pleased.

Still — real means actual, so reality would be... a sense of the real? Realness? And transition. Was that anything like trance?

Ssssss.

Fat dripped from the skewers, and the rich, savory smell of cooking meat rolled out thick. The moment it hit me, thunder started up in my stomach. Whoa. That smelled incredibly good. Swallowing, I turned the meat and planted it back in the earth — and Franc's finger returned to the letters in the dirt.

"days. ...fifteen? The fifteenth day?"

Today? Today is the fifteenth?

I shot to my feet as I shouted it, and Franc smiled radiantly, nodded, and pointed at the space around me.

"That's it! That's why the Phase Power around me vanished! You said clusters of light form while it absorbs the Phase Power nearby! The sign that return is coming!"

My heart began to pound like mad. Focusing Search on my surroundings, I saw it — just as Franc had said, Phase Power faintly gathering!

"Aaah. My god. Today is the fifteenth day. The fifteenth day!"

All this time I had only been thinking I had already passed the date of automatic return. I looked at Franc with a startled, trembling heart, and she was gazing up at me, a radiant smile on her lips. I circled the campfire, breathing slow — in, and out, in, and out — but my chest would not settle.

Today was the fifteenth day! In truth, since I had entered, there had been a few times I lost track of how time was moving. When I passed out, worn to nothing by exhaustion, before I met the giant Franc. When I lost consciousness at the giant Franc's roar. And when I met the Supergiant Turtle. Especially then — in the twenty minutes of that encounter, early evening had become a night sky without a single cloud.

My heart was beating past anything I could hold. Now — now, if I endured just a little longer, I could go home! The moment the thought reached me that I would soon see my family, the skin beneath my eyes grew hot, and the world began to blur.

"..."

I dropped into a crouch beneath the rush of tears and forced the tightness in my throat back down. My nose stung and burned, and I was sniffling, when a soft light shone from in front of me. I lifted my head. Franc was looking at me with a face full of tender compassion. When our eyes met, she reached out and gently gathered my head into her arms. At that warmth, I ended up crying after all.