My name was Slate Steel, I was a traveling martial artist and rockstar who... Nah, I'm kidding. I was a nobody, and my name was — is? — John Slater. No relation to the cockney actor. I wasn't even British. I was an American tech support specialist, coder, and avid gamer.
I was overweight, a heavy smoker, and a moderate drunk when I couldn't find anything else to hold my interest. I played RPGs, sometimes for days on end, missing work and sleep. I was always blowing off family and friends when I really got into a game. The vast majority of my time was spent trying to escape reality. I hated life, and I hated what the world had become — no adventure, just bland repetitiveness day in and day out. If someone was a jerk to you, all you could do was reply and walk away. PvP in real life was generally frowned upon and would land you in a nice rent-free room with a complementary gang-banger attendant for turn-down service and a luxuriously barred front door that you couldn't open.
Society had stagnated. Darwinism had failed, and everyone just wanted something to take their mind off this flavorless, passionless thing called life. Sure, some people say life is good. Those are the rich, the privileged, the beautiful, or the heavily medicated. It says something about society when an emotion is treated as a symptom. So I drank, I smoked, and I played games. It was all I had — a lifetime wasted with nothing to show for it.
I remember the day my parents died in a tractor-trailer collision. Everyone was there at the funeral giving false smiles and feigned sympathies. I had never met most of them. They could all go fuck themselves.
We didn't have any real money. I knew they were just there due to social obligation. My mother had always been a solitary person, keeping to herself and staying out of all the drama. She had chosen instead to focus on career and family. My father had lost his parents at a young age and moved across the country to be with my mother. I had a few cousins I remembered from childhood that I recognized, but no one who really knew my parents. There was no one who really cared.
I read a lot of LitRPG novels, watched anime, and generally did whatever I could to try to stomach the boredom of being alive. Eventually my hobbies took the place of my friends and became the most important things in my life.
I remember a pain in my chest. I remember an ambulance. I wasn't a fool; I knew it was likely a heart attack, and I knew that, considering the life I had led, I was a goner. My brain, as if in its final attempt to escape that world, had wondered if I would be reincarnated in a fantasy setting like so much of the fiction I had read. But I doubted it, as I wasn't hit by a truck, accidentally killed by a god, or terminally locked in a VR capsule.
Huh, but here I am. I don't know if I'm in a fantasy world, but this sure as hell looks mighty dungeony. That's a word that rolls off the tongue — dungeony. Oh god, I think I ate corpses and killed a guy.
I looked down at my hands. Wow, these things are huge. I made a fist. My knuckles jutted out unnaturally, as if I had spent a lifetime mining with my fists having never learned how to craft a pickaxe.
I ran my tongue over my teeth. What the hell is this? Several sharp, long teeth, as if my mouth were all canines. I stared at the flaming head. I think I'll name you Bob, I thought as I looked at it. Just then some green text displayed in a box over the head. It said [Bob] as if identifying the head.
I looked to the dead guy beside me. [Dipshit] was displayed above his, er, bloody mass where a head used to be. I was certain now, with my vast knowledge of fantasy tropes, that he had been trying some sort of binding shit on me. For all I know, he had been about to order me to clean the toilets for all eternity. Oh my god, I don't think there are toilets here. I never considered this aspect of things. You never see the mighty heroes with their golden armor and fancy winged helms taking a squat behind a bush. It makes me wonder how many battles were lost due to wiping with poison oak.
I would think that I would be more shocked, but to be honest I was excited. That seemed strange.
"Hello, book and sludge person or people, are you there still?" I said into the darkness.
"Yes, I'm here," replied a high-pitched female voice.
I assume I have you to thank for getting my memories back. I thought this instead of saying it this time, seeing if it would respond.
I saw what can only be described as a death fairy enter my view. It was oddly two-dimensional and appeared at the corner of my vision as if it were one of those in-app popups.
"Yes, I did bring back what I could, but these aren't all of your memories. But we have more important things to discuss."
It flew into view as if it were a poorly animated flash movie and sat on the [Bob] tag as if it were tired.
I examined it closer. It was wearing a hood that covered its face with two glowing green eyes showing in the darkness. Its wings were similar in shape to a butterfly’s but were definitely made of screaming souls. It was wearing a black robe with arcane symbols, skulls, and bones lining it.
It made a mock coughing gesture as if to get my attention.
"I've calmed you down a bit, as you seemed a little too freaked out to talk there for awhile,” it said.
"Wait, you what!?" I didn't like the idea that this thing had some sort of control over me.
It waved its little hands in a placating gesture "Don't panic! You have a lot of pretty terrifying things to take in all at once."
I thought about slapping the fairy. "Wah!" it yelled in a shrill voice as it was swatted off the [Bob] tag and fell to the bottom of my view. "Please, no violence!"
It shook its head and hands furiously, obviously exasperated.
"All right." I said. "What's happening?"
It calmed down, adjusted its robes, and stood up before speaking."Let's start with your body. I'm sure you've noticed it isn't what you’re used to."
I nodded. It continued. "Do you know what a flesh golem is?"
I thought about it. I knew what a golem was — an artificial construct, usually elemental. If it's anything like some of the games I've played, it will have an obvious glowing weakness like a power core that keeps it moving. But flesh... the thought sent shivers up my spine. Ew.
"Yeah, that," the fairy said. "Basically, a flesh golem is something like a necromancer’s ongoing project. It's just something he cobbles together when he doesn't have enough viable parts for a zombie, which is a much easier and cheaper thing to create. The practitioner would just start with a soul prison. A soul prison is something like a clear gem or a piece of amber. Sometimes it can be created from bodies themselves by crystallizing the blood and using that as a prison, though that limits it specifically to the body it's currently trapped in and must be exchanged for a better one before it dissolves. In a pinch, a severed head makes a great soul prison, but it's inconvenient to carry that around."
I nodded along, head spinning and arms crossed, trying to understand more.
The fairy — which I had decided was female — looked at me as if to check that I was still paying attention.
"Well, in your case your soul prison just happens to be the crystallized ichor of a forgotten elder god. This ‘dipshit’ as you have labeled him likely had no idea what he had, given what he made your body out of."
"So what am I made out of?" I asked as I looked down at my arms.
The fairy looked at me nervously. "Keep in mind I didn't make you, so don't take it out on me. Your head and torso are mostly ghoul parts. You have the arms of a rock troll and the legs and lower body of some random guy."
I blinked several times at the explanation.
"You have a way with words." I told her. "So, what does all this mean?"
"Well, the ghoul parts are the distressing ones. Ghouls have no souls of their own. They have to consume flesh regularly, eating what's left of the soul energy inside. They are to zombies what zombies are to people... and, well, also what ghouls are to people and everything else. Without soul energy they just hibernate until something living comes near."
She looked away. I could tell she was hiding somethin
g.
"What about this crystallized elder god-thing core?" I asked.
"I see you also have a way with words," she replied.
"It's a fraction of a god that has died. Let me scan your memories a bit and try to explain it in a better way." The fairy looked perplexed for a moment, then a turning hourglass showed above her head for a few seconds. I'm pretty sure this fairy is fucking with me here, I thought.
The hourglass stopped and she replied. "You know that Cthulhu thing? Yeah, that, but more shadow and less tentacle. You know, I was actually part of a god once, too. That's why I accepted you as a Master; something about you feels familiar. Also, your soul may have been kind of Blended with what was left of the god's soul — just a tad! Gods tend to leave some part of themselves behind just in case all their followers get wiped out and they become forgotten. That's usually how they die. The dark ones have it all the harder, as their followers aren't exactly popular in the first place, and death gods... I mean, who likes dying? Yeah, their followers are definitely toast."
She paused and I finally got the chance to get a word in.
"So I'm a possessed, rock-punching, corpse-eating, regular-dude-pants-wearing, god-hearted guy?"
She smiled, or at least I think that's what it was, as I saw a gleam under the hood. She replied. "Pfft, no, not at all."
"How's that?" I asked.
"It's just some crystallized ichor, not his whole heart. And you can use whatever parts you want when you come across them. If you don't want to have a certain part, all you have to do is kill something and use the power of its soul to fuse it with yourself," she replied matter-of-factly.
I stared off into space for a bit. Several thoughts went through my head. If this really was a fantasy world, I would be able to adapt to anything if given the parts and time. Dragon wings, centaur legs, goblin farts, whatever I wanted — provided I could kill it or find a not-too-decomposed corpse with the bit I needed. I started to smile and laugh to myself.
"You have no idea how creepy that actually is with ghoul teeth, do you?" the fairy said with a shiver.
"What about you? What or who are you?" I finally asked.
"I am a book. I don't remember much about my creation, being blank at the time and all. But I remember my objective well. I gradually take the soul of whomever wants to read me, and in return I provide all the knowledge of the souls that are a part of myself. Basically I contain the wisdom and experiences of thousands of lifetimes and share it with my reader until they die, then I get their wisdom and so on. All with the goal of bringing all this to my Master when he returns."
The fairy was looking me dead in the eyes.
"And I am your Master?" I asked.
The fairy nodded and replied. "Yes, but I cannot give you everything all at once. I've already tried that, and all you did was roll around on the floor, grab your head and pass out, only to repeat the pattern when you woke up — hence the calming spell I placed on you."
"Then have you failed with me? Are you going to take my soul?" I asked worriedly.
"No, and no. I came up with an idea after reading your memories — something like an RPG interface with leveling so I can introduce souls and their skills to you gradually, since you can't handle them all at once. I figured doing it this way would allow you to test things out and get used to using different types of skills and abilities while your god half-merges more with your consciousness." She said in a happy tone.
That was great! I was excited about this, but I wasn't sure how much of that was me. Was it this book altering my emotions, or the dead elder god merging into my soul? That gave me pause. I would always be a monster, so dealing with humans, elves, dwarves, gnomes, and catgirls would become next to impossible, and that's assuming they even exist here. Maybe there was some sort of disguise magic I could use.
"Book." I said. "Am I able to use magic?"
"In a way, but you are a flesh golem, not a mage. With my help you can, but it will use your souls up and deplete your future gains, as you lack any mana generation. Even if you find a way around this limitation, since it's going through me and I have been possessed almost exclusively by evil people, odds are that the magic will be dark — soul or death magic. I would recommend using only soul magic for a while, as you can actually use a victim’s own soul as the source rather than any of ours. Look at Bob there. That's how he was created. That green flame is Bob's soul burning. It likely won't go out for a hundred years or so. Souls can be quite potent, you know. That's actually what draws many wizards, hedge mages and witches to necromancy in the first place. They don't have the mana to compete with the big boys and need to find an alternate source of power.”
She fell silent with a shrug.
"Is there any disguise magic?" I asked.
"Yes, of course. But magic here is different than in your games; there are no set spells unless you attend an academy or join an army that teaches the same techniques to everybody. But using soul magic that way would be a little more difficult, as you would need a victim. Nothing says I'm not normal like carrying around a severed head, unless you’re a barbarian, but the green flames would still give you away. However, you are a flesh golem! You could always just kill a normal-enough-looking guy and move your core into him, although you would give up your advantages that way, which leads me to..." She paused for dramatic effect.
"Your current skills," she finished.
Chapter 4: Skills — John
Icons started appearing in the edges of my vision. I saw three icons to the left. One was a multi-fanged smiley face, one was a bag, and one was a scroll.
To the right I saw a red bar and a green bar with a number in it: 2,314. I automatically assumed that was my soul gauge, and the red one was obviously health.
Yeah, very minimal. This was definitely created with me in mind, as it all felt very natural and intuitive. At the same time there was something strange about it, like it was made in a hurry.
I thought of a cursor and one appeared. I mentally clicked the fanged smiley. It opened up to reveal a character sheet. There was a body in the middle. Its arms and legs stretched out to four corners of a box with a dotted line separating the arms, legs, head, and torso — something similar to what a normal equipment screen would look like. This screen, however, did not have equipment slots but rather part slots.
I figured the slots were probably a simplistic way to select new parts to add to myself, though I imagined if I wanted extra arms, wings, or something, then the appropriate slot would show up as if it had always been there. I felt like this screen was bloated and unnecessary, like it was only there because I expected it to be there. It hit me again how natural all this felt, and not only because I had played hundreds of RPGs. Strangely, I already knew what everything was. I suspected the book had a way of transferring information directly into me at a trickle. It must have devised this as a time saver.
I left that screen and clicked one of the tabs that was wreathed in green flame. Skills showed up at the top, and I guessed that this was where I would go to view my already acquired skills.
Blend
Soul Steal
Feast
Blend had a green flame circling around it, so I knew I would have to use it first. I decided to briefly check out the other skills.
I hovered my cursor over Soul Steal.
Soul Steal:
This is often the first spell a necromancer learns. However, due to the nature of your core, it costs no mana, and is thereby a skill. It allows the user to perceive and obtain a soul from a corpse. In the case of the undead, the soul must be unbound.
Warning: When used with Soul Channeling on a soul from a distant plane, a sustained effort must be maintained for as long as it takes to force the soul into submission before attempting to use or bind it.
This skill usually requires the use of a soul prison or the head of the soul's original owner for storage. However, your core is an exception and can contain a functionally endless number of souls, neg
ating this requirement.
Well that's awesome, let’s check out feast.
Feast:
This is the first skill you learned here. This skill was likely imbued to you by way of possessing mostly ghoul organs.
It allows you to consume even the most rotten of flesh and passively heal your wounds. The more damaged you are, the stronger the urge to feast. The contents of your stomach are stored as materials you may use for Fleshcrafting and used automatically for mending damages.
Ah, this must have been activated on its own, since Dipshit was a terrible surgeon.
Finally I hovered my cursor over the first item, simply titled Blend.
A description popped up.
Blend:
This skill naturally draws on the flesh golem's innate ability of Fleshcrafting and combines it with the book's knowledge of physiology to Blend all the uneven and/or mismatched parts of the body into a homogeneous form, evening out symmetry and gaining a solid skin color and appearance based on the parts used and the availability of parts in the proximity including skin, muscle, etc. to create a normal-as-possible appearance and function as chosen when the skill is used: Beauty, Strength, Speed, etc. on a genetic level.
Warning: When using this skill, in order to achieve best results please have an abundance of possible materials available or results may be less than ideal.
I clicked on the skill to see more options. A 3D rendering of my current body was displayed in a rotatable, zoomable way with two options available: Choose Style and Start or Cancel.
I looked at my body. It was rough — a face not even a mother could love, let alone nurse. My eyes were beady, black specks sunken deep into my skull. I had no nose to speak of, though the bone structure and nose holes were there.
A Flesh Golem's Ascension Page 2
