Chapter 2 - For the Record

(Short answer? No, not even  close!) Nyx replies nonchalantly. She seems to pick up on my mental brow  furrowing though. (I mean come on, the only reason you even have arms  or legs right now is because what’s left of your mind is so used to  having a human body that you’re subconsciously manifesting one.)

I can’t say I entirely follow. Manifesting a  body, I’d have thought that would expend some kind of energy, or focus,  or something?

She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. Overdramatically, I might add. (Of course you’d think so, you aren’t being compelled to school a newborn ascendant on how to read a freaking status.)

She reaches toward my face as if to jam a  finger in my eyes, and I obviously attempt to dodge, but she somehow  follows as if she already saw where I was going to move. I flinch.  (Don’t be a baby. Look.) In her hand, is a block of floating text. (You  saw the same thing just a moment ago. I know you did, I saw it. That’s  one of the only benefits of being your system assistant,) she snaps. (now LOOK.)

[Race: Manaphage (Spirit, Ephemeral)]

(Manaphage. Spirit. Ephemeral. This is elementary stuff, pal. No body, and the only thing keeping you you is that System and your own will to exist. No meat, no bones. You, my  ‘friend’, aren’t human, ha! Look at yourself. You’re a freaking wraith, a  spiritual parasite! And here I am, little ol’ me, with all my decades  of practice and hundreds of levels, compelled to be your schoolteacher!)

I’ll… admit, that she keeps ranting for a  while. And, I let her. Not a total loss of time, while I busy myself  corroding the cell door into rust and bronze particulate, I gather from  her frustrations that she used to be an ascendant herself. A rather  strong one, for that matter. Unfortunately, Erebus went and decided her  younger sister was better used as a catalyst for a weapon than as, well,  a sister. So now, she’s stuck in my head, incorporeal, with almost all  of her own Status locked.

[Temporal Corrosion has reached Level 1!]

(-And of course, I’m stuck with someone who CAN’T EVEN TALK!)

Sure I can. We’re talking now.

(Well go on then. Open your mouth and speak!)

So, I do. Or, try to. It takes me a moment to  register that I’m the source of the chilling wail, complete with  bone-grating sensation of glass shards dragged across concrete. Oh.

(Yeah, ‘oh’. Told you. I don’t know, maybe  someday you’ll get a Skill or something that lets you at least form  words. No mouth, no lungs, no vocal cords. All you have is raw  expression, and all your body knows is being forcibly ripped from your  corporeal form, so pain and destruction are all it can express. Man,  going all-Spirit the wrong way is harsh.)

***

A melancholic silence spreads between us as I  keep walking, broken only by the ongoing keening of the siren. Where  I’m going I’m not quite sure, but Nyx sure hasn’t added any input there.  Maybe she’s just as lost as I am, but that’s fine. The hallways are  uniform, and other than more darkened cells lining the walls, the only  thing that really stands out is how small the doors are.

(They’re not small.)

Yes they are, look. I gesture at a cell door as we pass it.

(I said, they’re not small. You’re just both stupid, and stupid big. You probably think I’m small too, huh? I’m six-foot-five. They look small because you’re pushing eight, maybe nine foot.)

Oh.

(Yeah, ‘oh’.)

That reminds me. Nyx said I’m manifesting this body… what would happen if I stopped?

(You’d turn incorporeal. Duh.)

And how would I do that?

If she rolled her eyes any harder, she’d probably see gray matter. (You focus on it, come on! Just like you’ve unlocked every other skill you’ve got!)

Could be worse advice I guess.

(Of course it could, but I couldn’t give it to you then.  Compulsion, remember?) she points at her head. (But don’t get any big  ideas, dumbass. Nothing’s free. You’re gonna do some stuff for me too  and make it worth my time, or we’re gonna go monkey’s paw real quick.)

Yeah, fine. Sure.

Well.

May as well try it. So, I focus on my body,  specifically my right hand. I envision the seemingly hardened smoke I’m  made of dispersing. And, just like that, it does.

[Available Skill: Corporeal Form used for the first time!]

[Corporeal Form (0) added to Skills.]

Huh. That easy.

(Ok sure, but maybe pay attention?)

She’s not even done speaking before I realize  the rest of my body is unknitting itself before my eyes, reducing to a  large cloud of smoke and suspended ash. It’s frightening at first, but  at the same time somehow comforting? Like my body wants this.

(Of course it does. This is your natural  state. What you gotta figure out though, is even moving around is a lot  different for spirits. Took me a couple days to get it right. See, it’s  all about intent. Here, jumpstart. Try moving forward, can’t can you?)

An urge to prove her wrong hits me in the worst way, but I find myself swirling my body – er, cloud? Cloudbody?

(You really need to learn to trust me. For a Spirit, it’s all about intent. You don’t pick up the apple; you project your will to pick it up, and to hold it. Otherwise it’ll just fall right through  your grip and splat, back on the ground. Try it. Will yourself to get  moving again.)

Do you always have to be so condescending?

(Absolutely. You’re not the only one who had their whole life ripped away from them. Freaking give me this.)

Fine. I’d sigh if I had lungs. But her advice  at least works, and after a few moments learning to right myself  instead of spinning in circles, I’m moving down the hallways at a steady  clip again.

Our interpersonal silence returns for a while, until Nyx decides to blow it wide open.

(Not gonna ask about those titles? You got a doozy in there.)

I don’t know, they both sound pretty horrible, so I’ve been ignoring them for the time being.

(Of course you are,) she quips, (but there’s  no time like the present to find out just how fucked you are.) She pulls  out another piece of my Status.

[Autophagic Cannibal]

Yeah, like I said, horrible.

(It is, but not how you think. See, eating part of your body wouldn’t be enough to get a Title, or every nailbiter in the universe would have it. Nah, what you got is way worse.)

I pause.

(Got your attention? Good, I was freaking  there, at least partially aware at the time – getting ritually bound  steals a bit of that. It’s what she did to you, why your identity and a  big chunk of your Akashic Self is outright missing. She ripped it out  and forcefed it to your newborn-Spirit self. It’s why all you can do is  scream like a freaking banshee.)

Oh. That’s, a little worse than I’d thought.

(Yeah. It’s why I’m not as pissed off as I could be. Not at you.)

I let the topic drop for the moment, and  start corroding my way through another doorway. This facility, whatever  it is, seems surprisingly large and repetitive in design, but there’s at  least been enough doors to land me another level in Temporal Corrosion.  Eventually, Nyx breaks the silence again.

(That other one is probably worse, tbh.) Yes, she actually spells it out.

[Stigma of the End]

(I can see descriptions you can’t, perk of  being an Assistant I guess. It says Fate marked you as one to destroy…  something. It’s not particularly clear. Could be the order of the mortal  planes, or the lesser pantheons, or hells, the whole hells-damned  Record itself. I don’t know. But anyone who can Identify you at a  sufficient level is gonna see that, and immediately see you hostile – if  being a wraith wasn’t enough to begin with. They’ll know at minimum  that you’re a Unique with a System.)

Oh good.

That’s exactly what I needed.