The void was absolute. Not the relative obscurity of a moonless night or the blinding shroud of a windowless dungeon. It was a perfect emptiness, an absence so total that Alistair doubted for a moment if he even still had eyes, or any form whatsoever. Yet, he saw this absence, not with eyeballs, but with an intrinsic perception that transcended sight. He felt this nothingness, an imperceptible pressure, a silent embrace that threatened to consume the last flicker of his consciousness.
Where am I...? What is this? Am I... dead? No, this can't be it. This isn't how it ends. A cold dread began to seep into the edges of his consciousness, chilling him to his very core.
His thoughts echoed strangely, muffled, as if thick cotton had been stuffed into the labyrinth of his mind. He had no mouth to speak, no lungs to breathe, no throat to make a sound. He was just a... presence. A disembodied consciousness, floating in this timeless void. He had no idea how much time had passed. A second? Billions of years? The void knew no clock.
"Ohhh?"
The voice made him start – if a soul could still startle. It was there, beside him, or rather, it resonated within that same void, without direction or origin. Melodic. Young. Curious. A thread of innocence in the abyss.
"A new soul? But you are very strange..."
A silvery glow was born in the void, thin and hesitant at first, then slowly thickening. It swirled upon itself, gradually taking shape. A vague feminine silhouette, as if drawn with chalk on a blackboard, but chalk that breathed, that danced. Contours that trembled, faded, reformed, elusive as a dream at dawn. It had no distinct face, no defined features, just an impression, an essence of light and movement.
Alistair tried to scream. A silent howl tore through his inner being, but nothing came out. Not a breath, not a vibration. The utter helplessness was a new sensation, more terrifying than the void itself. He was truly adrift, disconnected from everything he knew, a prisoner of this formless reality.
"Calm down, little lost one." The creature circled him, its silvery glow tracing arabesques in the void. Its tone was pleasantly mocking, imbued with an almost insolent lightness. "You no longer have vocal cords, you know. Nor lungs. Nor a throat." A crystalline laugh, like the distant tinkling of bells, resonated. "Just thoughts. But I hear you very well."
Who are you? Where am I? What happened? This can't be real. This has to be some kind of hallucination, a coma dream... Please let it be a dream. I need to wake up. Now. He desperately clung to the hope of waking up, his internal plea a desperate, silent shriek.
The form stilled, facing what was likely its "front." "I don't know. I remember nothing but this void. That's all I've ever known, I think." A pause, a ripple in the nothingness. "And you? Do you have a name, wandering soul?"
Memories returned in fragments, painful flashes in the void, assaulting his awareness. A laboratory bathed in artificial light. The sterile gleam of steel, the hum of advanced machinery. Control screens displaying dizzying curves, numbers spiraling out of control, piercing alarms that became a mental shriek. The unbearable, suffocating heat, the deafening hiss of escaping pressure, the floor vibrating violently beneath his feet, rattling his bones. That last second before the explosion, the blinding, all-consuming white flash that swallowed everything, the sheer, unimaginable force. The tearing sensation as his very essence was ripped from his physical form.
Alistair. Alistair Mercer. The name appeared, solid, anchored, a rock in the ocean of oblivion. It was the only thing that felt real, a lifeline in the endless dark, a whisper of identity in the face of absolute annihilation.
"Alistair..." She savored the word, repeating it silently, like a new melody, a discovery. "Pretty. Very pretty. Me, I have nothing. No one ever gave me a name." A fleeting hint of sadness crossed her voice, a crack in the carelessness that spoke of an ancient, cosmic loneliness.
The sadness in her voice pierced him in an unexpected way, an emotional resonance despite the absence of a body. Without thinking, a selfless impulse, a flicker of his old self, pushed him to offer:
Luna. I'll call you Luna. The word resonated, simple, soft, a quiet gift in the vast emptiness.
The silvery light pulsed, intensified, as if a miniature sun had just ignited in her essence. She bloomed, bright, warm, radiating a newfound joy. "Luna..." She repeated the word slowly, tasting it on an imaginary tongue, embracing it. "Yes. I like it. Luna. It's perfect." The joy she exuded was almost palpable, a comforting warmth that pushed back the oppressive void for a precious moment.
A comforting silence settled between them, a silence that was no longer empty, but filled with this new, fragile connection. Then, with a sudden surge of energy, a new effervescence:
"Enough dawdling! I know how to get out of here. Well, I think so. There's a place. I can feel it. A pull." Her carelessness had returned, doubled by an unexpected determination that was both endearing and alarming.
Before Alistair could protest – if he'd had the means, if he'd been able to formulate a question or objection – the void tore open. Not like fabric, but like reality itself, revealing an abyss of searing, blinding light. A blue light swallowed them, sucking them in with an irresistible, terrifying force. His disembodied consciousness was flung forward, a sickening, uncontrolled plunge into the utter unknown. He had no control, no choice, just a spiraling, all-consuming fear that screamed in the silence of his non-existent mind.
[System Interface]
Name: Alistair Mercer
Level: 0
Experience: 0/100
Statistiques:
* Mana: 20/20 (Magical Energy)
* Strength: 3 (Raw Physical Capacity)
* Agility: 5 (Reaction Speed and Precision)
* Durability: 4 (Damage Resistance and Endurance)
* Intelligence: 7 (Magical Affinity and Insight)
Skills:
* Mana Projection (5 PM)
"Cristallizes mana into rudimentary projectiles. Effectiveness based on Intelligence and Mastery."
Maîtrise: 0% - Unstable
* Basic Levitation (Passive)
"Allows stable flotation and movement. Speed: 1m/s. Max Altitude: 2m. Effectiveness depends on Agility. Does not consume Mana."
Companion:
* Luna (Amnesiac Linked Entity)
-- Level: 0
-- Energy: 0/10
-- Skills:
---- Devour (Passive)
"Consumes the essence of recently deceased creatures to gain energy. Only functions on monsters killed by Alistair."
-- Incapable of Combat (Spiritual Form. Cannot physically interact with the world.)
Shop: (Unlocks at Level 1)
The transition was violent, a brutal, jarring shock that reactivated forgotten senses, sensations so alien they made Alistair's consciousness spin. It was like being reborn, but into something utterly wrong, something cold and mechanical. His entire being recoiled from the sudden, overwhelming influx of sensation.
* The cold dampness of the stone beneath him, a glacial, rough caress against his new, smooth form.
* The acrid smell of mold and rusty metal, an oppressive, earthy mixture that filled what he now perceived as "air."
* The distant echo of dripping water, a steady, melancholic plinking resonating in the dark, cavernous immensity around him.
* Gravity, a new, yet manageable weight, a subtle pull that anchored him, even as he floated a few centimeters off the ground.
* And above all... he had a body now. A physical body. Not a disembodied soul, but a smooth, perfectly round blue metallic sphere, glowing faintly in the dim light. A single, ominous red eye, at its center, blinked at his command, a mechanical shutter opening and closing with a faint, disturbing click.
A floating surveillance camera, for crying out loud. Seriously? This is resurrection? This is my new reality? What kind of cosmic joke is this? I'm a scientist, a physicist, not some… some spherical drone! The sheer absurdity mixed with the lingering, gut-wrenching fear made his internal processors whir with agonizing confusion. He tried to move, to roll, to shift, found himself wobbling awkwardly, barely in control of this alien form. Every slight adjustment felt like an effort, a struggle against unfamiliar physics.
"Magnifique, isn't it?" Luna floated near him – or rather, she glided through the air as if on an invisible floor, her tiny paws touching nothing, yet creating the perfect illusion of a solid surface. She had taken the form of a small white kitten with disproportionately large, round violet eyes that shimmered with an inner light, casting faint, ethereal shadows. Her immaculate fur emitted a faint silvery glow, barely illuminating their immediate surroundings, making her seem almost ghostly.
"A cat?" Alistair's synthetic voice, a metallic hum that seemed to emanate from his own spherical body, trembled slightly, not from emotion, but from a kind of forced, robotic dissonance. "Seriously? Now? We're apparently in some damp cave, and you choose a cat?" The frustration was palpable, a stark contrast to the whimsical, ethereal feline.
She stretched a front paw with theatrical grace, like a feline diva. "Why not? It's cute. Practical. And..." She performed an aerial pirouette, her ethereal form twirling with effortless elegance. "I can change whenever I want. If you prefer, I can be a goat. Or a platypus." Her tone was light, playful, utterly unconcerned by their grim surroundings.
A guttural, primal growl echoed from the depths of the cave, raw and menacing. It ripped through the silence, making Alistair's internal components buzz with an instinctive alarm. Three pairs of malevolent yellow eyes gleamed in the deeper shadows, glowing points of malice and insatiable hunger.
[3 Goblins - Level 1]
Panic surged through Alistair, a hot, searing wave of pure, unadulterated terror. A raw, primal sensation that coursed through his new metallic body, overriding every logical thought. His mind, accustomed to complex equations and meticulous laboratory protocols, was utterly overwhelmed by the instinct to survive. His body reacted before he even understood what he was doing – a sharp, almost physical pain shot through his sphere as a blue energy arrow, trembling violently and barely coalescing, materialized before his single red eye. It felt like tearing a piece of his own consciousness out. He had no idea how he did it, only that the urgent, raw terror had forced something, anything, out of him.
The rudimentary projectile, more a flickering shard of light than a true arrow, streaked erratically toward the first goblin, striking its shoulder with a pathetic, dull thud. It wasn't the powerful impact of a crossbow bolt, not even close, but the faint contact shattered the tense silence. The creature shrieked, a high-pitched, guttural cry that echoed sickeningly in the cave, and stumbled back, whimpering, clutching its flimsy leather armor. It was wounded, but far from defeated.
"Well done!" Luna glided effortlessly to the side, a fluid, almost translucent movement, but she made no move to approach the snarling creatures, her form flickering slightly as if unable to solidify, a shimmering specter. "I can't touch them in this form, Alistair. I told you, I'm just a spirit! It's all on you! Concentrate! Aim better!" Her voice, though cheerful, carried an underlying urgency, a chilling reminder that hammered home his terrifying isolation. He was truly alone in this fight, an untrained scientist trapped in a tin can, facing monstrous, bloodthirsty creatures. The prospect filled him with a cold dread that threatened to paralyze him.
The second goblin, bolder or perhaps stupider than its injured comrade, let out a furious snarl and charged, its rusty, chipped blade sweeping through the air in a vicious, overhead arc. Alistair desperately tried to dodge, to pivot on himself, to rise higher, but his new Basic Levitation skill was still clumsy, his movement achingly slow and horribly hesitant. His internal systems screamed warnings he barely understood. He was just a floating target, a vulnerable metallic orb unable to match the creature's speed. The knife point, jagged and filthy, scraped his metallic surface with a horrible, grating screech, a sound that seemed to resonate deep within his very being, making his internal components vibrate violently, a horrifying internal tremor. A fresh wave of agony and pure, unadulterated fear washed over him, momentarily blinding his red eye. He was going to die again, and this time, he was a glorified toaster with a blinking eye. This is madness. I'm going to be scrap metal! I'm going to be eaten by goblins!
[Damage Taken: 2]
[Durability Tested... Success!]
A burning pain radiated throughout his entire being, a new, excruciating, and profoundly unpleasant sensation that made him want to shut down. Ignoring the frantic system warning, overriding his instinct to flee, he forced himself to focus his thoughts, channeling the raw, chaotic energy that still inexplicably filled his being. Driven by pure, desperate terror, he projected a second mana arrow, this time with a fraction more control, more stability, denser, shooting forth with a sharper, more focused hiss. Thunk! It lodged directly in the goblin's single, malevolent eye, piercing it with a sickening squelch. The creature roared, a short, choked sound, before collapsing with a final gurgle, its head slamming against the damp rock with a dull thud. The projectile had passed straight through its skull.
The last monster, its yellow eyes wide with a sudden, dawning comprehension, hesitated, its gaze darting frantically between its two inert companions and the ominously glowing, yet still awkward, floating sphere. It realized too late its grave mistake, the danger it had so grossly underestimated. Alistair, mentally breathless – a sensation born of utter panic and exhaustion rather than a physical lack of air – concentrated his last, dwindling reserves of mana. His systems flashed a low mana warning, but he ignored it. A third projectile, faster, more direct, a desperate, final gamble, burst forth and unerringly pierced the goblin's green throat, pinning it to the ground in a final, shuddering spasm, a dark, viscous trickle of blood spreading slowly across the damp stone.
The three grotesque bodies collapsed in a sudden, profound silence, broken only by the persistent echo of dripping water. Alistair hung in the air, trembling, his red eye wide, watching them. Luna glided towards the corpses, her kitten muzzle unnaturally stretching, her form shimmering. As she hovered over them, her violet eyes glowed intensely, and faint wisps of dark, smoky energy seemed to be drawn from the fallen goblins, flowing directly into her shimmering, ethereal form.
[Luna Energy: 3/10]
"Mmmh... Metallic." She grimaced, shaking her tiny kitten head with an odd, almost human expression. "Goblins have a somewhat metallic taste. But nutritious. My Devour skill is amazing, isn't it? Very efficient." A strange little purr, not really a cat's purr but a soft, internal vibration of contentment, emanated from her.
Alistair floated in silence, his red eye dilating as he analyzed the changes displayed by the interface that flickered in his consciousness, his internal systems still buzzing from the strain of the fight.
[Mana: 5/20]
[XP Gained: 30]
[Mana Projection: 15% Mastery - Stability Improved!]
Luna, having reverted to a simple, shimmering ball of pure light, a miniature sun, snuggled against him, her aura soft and warm, a comforting weight he didn't physically feel but profoundly sensed.
"Come on, carry me. I'm tired. This gustatory necromancy is exhausting."
"I'm not a taxi!" Alistair's synthetic voice resonated with a fresh hint of frustration, mixed with the lingering tremor of the brutal fight. The reality of being a floating combat sphere and a literal energy source for a mischievous spiritual entity was finally, truly sinking in. This was definitely not what he signed up for. He was a theoretical physicist, for crying out loud, not some glorified, sentient drone for a spectral kitten!
"No." Her violet eyes sparkled with mischief, reflecting the faint light of the cave. "You are my noble mechanical steed. And you're rather good at it. Especially for a first-timer."
And the blue sphere, still humming with residual fear and exhaustion, floated away into the dark tunnels, its single red eye blinking in the gloom, carrying its insolent, ethereal burden towards the profound unknown. The path would be long, fraught with unseen dangers, and he was absolutely the only one who could fight. He shuddered internally at the thought, a metallic vibration that ran through his core.