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Purpose
I trailed away from the wreckage of the creek and hovered deeper into the forest. My [Extreme Weakness to Light] negative effect said that as soon as the sun came up, I would begin to take heavy damage. Already, I could tell that the world around me was regaining the vibrant energy of the sun, and I hurried to find a place that was suitably dark and isolated enough for me to take cover.
I discovered that I could no longer use most of my physical skills. [Herculean Strength], [Cheetah Sprint], [Excruciating Toxic Bite] and anything that required I had a hands or legs or a mouth was permanently locked to me until I became tangible again.
Thankfully, the speed at which I floated through the woods made up for the inability to sprint as I used to. In addition to that, physical attacks or other forms of damage phased through me harmlessly, so I did not have to worry about being attacked by anything in the forest.
I went in deeper than I ever bothered to explore before. Leaving the areas filled with trees and shrubbery, I found myself approaching what seemed to be a small mountain. I did not even know that there was a mountain within the Final Sanctuary Woodlands. I did not even realize how vast said woodlands were.
Flowing adjacent to the mountain was a river. As it was still early in the morning, the river appeared to be unvisited by anyone or anything, and I went to it, marking it mentally as a notable feature on the landscape in case it was ever important.
I followed the river upstream, attempting to find its origins and perhaps find a suitable cave or cavern that I could hide within until nightfall again. The sun was slowly creeping up, and I was rushing my best to avoid being caught by its glare.
The harder I searched, the less I seemed to be able to find what I was looking for. The river twisted and turned itself numerous times and continued to expand the further up I went.
The sun’s harsh rays peaked over the horizon just as a cave finally appeared before me. I barreled into it, going deeper within until there was not the slightest whiff of sunlight. Deeper until the light from the entrance faded.
I came to a rest at that moment. Mentally, for I did not feel the physical need to rest. The cave was spiral in pattern. Bats hung upside down upon stalagmites at the top, and the sound of dripping water resounded.
I moved to a small rocky outcropping and attempted to ‘sit’. I phased through the rocks instead and grumbled within my mind. I needed to will myself to touch objects or I would just phase through them. I tried again, managing to ‘sit’ this time, and I began scrolling through my titles, searching for vital pieces of information I may have missed.
Title(s): [Reincarnated] [User] [Gorger] [Larvae Slayer] [Jonah] [Parasite] [David] [Agkistrodon Slayer] [Genocidal] [Retaliator] [Phoenix]
Of the titles I possessed, I knew what [Reincarnated], [User], [Gorger], [Larvae Slayer], [Jonah], [Parasite], [David] and [Genocidal] did. However, I was still unaware of what [Agkistrodon Slayer] [Retaliator] and [Phoenix] entailed, except for granting me that quest.
Title: [Agkistrodon Slayer]
Details: A special title. You slayed Agkistrodon. Grants [Special Title] benefits.
It seemed the only benefits I gained from slaying that serpent was the quest. Or was there something else that I would find out from it later? I pondered the thought before moving on to my next title.
Title: [Retaliator]
Details: An uncommon title. Fighting against enemies that have wronged you grants +20% Damage Dealt and +20% Damage Reduction. +1% is added for every day that goes by without gaining retribution. There is no upper limit to the percentage possible.
Revenge is best served cold. Indeed there was no title that did not have specific benefits, and each one seemed to have a central theme. I questioned the origin of the taxonomy of some of the titles. “Jonah” and “David” as titles were names that contained stories commonly associated with Abrahamic religions and stories from my world. Where and why were they the titles I was assigned?
The titles also seemed to have ranks. Some were [Uncommon], others were [Rare], some were [Special] and then the most useful of them seemed to be [Epic]. Were these all the title classifications available, or were these just the ones I was fortunate enough to unlock?
There was only one left.
Title: [Phoenix]
Details: A mythical title. Grants a 0.9% chance to revive from death with complete immunity to what killed you. Every brush with death you survive or near death experience you have adds an additional +3% odds to the chance. The odds are reset upon each successful resurrection.
Current Chance of Resurrection: 0.9%
Immunities Gained: 0
Mythical. A rank that seemed to finally be above epic. It was indeed worthy of the name, mythical. Again, it seemed there was a connection that the title possessed with myths that I knew of. The phoenix was a creature that rose from the ashes of its demise, repetitively trapped in an eternal state of life, death and rebirth.
With this title, I needed to survive an approximate thirty brushes with death just to be capable of being guaranteed that I could resurrect after my death. If I did indeed survive thirty different brushes with death, it would be something noteworthy.
I organized what I knew of titles so far. It seemed to rank from [Uncommon], to [Rare], to [Epic] and now to [Mythical]. There was also [Special] which was the outlier, and my [Unique] titles, [Reincarnated] and [User]. Where they above [Mythical], or was it that they did not fall into that classification?
“Ah? A guest! A guest! I have a guest! Oh – a guest!”
It was the second time I heard a voice and could not determine the origin. This voice did not arrive with the unexpected slap of gravity and pressure, but was soft, perky, and feminine.
I swiveled and pivoted as much as I could in order to locate the source. For a second I contemplated if I imagined it, then I dismissed the contemplation. I did not believe myself to have reached that level of insanity yet. More so, I would not have imagined a woman’s voice, nor would I have imagined her speaking in an accent that was unrecognizable.
“Hello there little masakh! You – you can understand me can’t you? You can can’t you?”
Who are you? I asked, feeling apprehension. Oblivion? No, the voice of Oblivion was indeterminable, it boomed and commanded authority, and it was neither male nor female. This voice however, was clearly feminine. Was this part of the quest?
“Oblivion? No, no, not Oblivion. My name... name...” there was a pause in the voice. “I think I was Janje. Janje. It has been years, oh, years, so many years since anyone called my name. Yes – yes, yes, Janje is Janje.”
You think? I responded. You don’t remember?
“Oh, it’s just been several thousand years!” The voice laughed. “Stupid Janje. It’s been so long! Oh so long! So, so, little clever masakh, what’s your name?”
My name?
It felt like years since anyone asked me that question. Most of the time, people knew who I was on sight, and any introductions I made were redundant.
My name is –
I stopped.
My name is –
How was it possible?
My... my name –
“You don’t remember? Don’t worry, Janje understands. It has been long since anyone called Janje by name too! Or – or is it, you don’t have a name?”
No, I have a name! I just –
How could I not remember my own name? How was it possible? I still remembered that I had three brothers, and I remembered their names were –
Their names – My eldest brother, his name – it – it started with a –
How... how is this possible? Why can’t I remember?
“Oh, poor little Masakh. Masakh without a name! Masakh without a name!” Janje sang. “People aren’t born into with names! Silly masakh, you should know that! No one chooses their name!”
But I had a name. I had –
“I can give you a name! I can! Do you want one strong? I know plenty strong names?”
I pushed away the unease at not remembering my own name and focused on changing the topic. The voice of the woman was excitable, almost childlike. What is a masakh?
She laughed again. “Funny masakh. Masakh doesn’t know it’s a masakh. That’s funny! I like you masakh!”
I was not joking.
“Masakh is funny! Masakh is funny! But Masakh should not repeat jokes. Repeating jokes bad. Boring. Not funny. Masakh are masakh. Masakh will eliminate all suffering from world! Masakh are masakh!”
Eliminate all suffering? How?
“What? How? How what?”
It was rare for me to have my patience tested so. How do masakh eliminate suffering?
“Oh silly masakh! Masakh eliminating all suffering, by eliminating all who suffer! Simple! Easy! You can do it! Go masakh!”
She wasn’t wrong, in that, in a cutting off a head to cure a headache kind-of-way. I assumed the masakh were the monsters of fantasy that people slew around here. But why use the word masakh, when she could have just used the word monster? No, how was it that I could even understand her? How was it that I understood that ominous presence?
How are you speaking English?
“Infish? What’s infish? Janje does not know infish. Janje would like fish though! Hey! Hey! Masakh, can you get me some fish? I like fish! Fish are cute! Big fish with sharp teeth make Janje happy!”
This was like talking directly to a hyperactive child. I calmed myself and tried another approach. Janje, what... language are we speaking now?
“Oh! Oh! Janje is speaking Ancient Dryadi! I like it! It’s my favorite language! Masakh speaks it as well! Masakh speaks it very well! But you’re too old school masakh. You sound like an old man! An old man! A really old man! Hey! Are you really an old man masakh?”
Ancient Dryadi? I’d never even heard of that language before today. I was wary about taking the words of a being that did not seem to be... all there. Actually, Janje was... nowhere. I could hear her voice, but I could not see her or point out any clues as to where she was positioned exactly.
Janje, where are you?
“Janje is here! Janje is here with masakh!”
I turned, but, as I expected, there was no one in the cave. Where exactly?
“Janje is here! Stupid masakh! Stop pretending like you can’t see Janje! Janje is here! Janje is here!”
I searched again. Her disembodied voice filled the cave, but there was no one to be seen.
“Stop that masakh! It’s not funny! Janje is here! I’m here! Here! Here! I’m here! I’m here! I’m here! JANJE – JANJE IS HERE! STOP PRETENDING! STOP! STOP! JANJE IS HERE! JANJE IS –”
I was not prepared for the screaming, or the rapidly increasing sensation of being suffocated.
“MASAKH IS MEAN! JANJE IS HERE! JANJE IS HERE! JANJE IS HERE! I’M HERE! MASAKH LYING! STOP! STOP LYING! I’M – I’M HERE! YOU CAN SEE ME! I – I’M HERE!”
[You have attained the skill: {Spirit Damage Resistance} from enduring phenomenal spiritual pressure.]
I felt my breath cease as the cave itself turned inexplicably dark. Blackness trailed from the shadows like inky tentacles and began to coil around reality itself. The world tinted red as the dimness morphed and coiled and extended, and I witnessed with utter horror as something began to approach from within. A long withered arm and thousands of fingers, each one possessing several smaller clawed hands, and each one possessing even more in a never ending loop –
Something from within the darkness with seven rows of teeth and nine eyes smiled at me.
YOU’RE REAL! I CAN SEE YOU! I CAN SEE YOU! I practically screamed. JANJE! I CAN SEE YOU!
The suffocating feeling vanished. The darkness vanished along with it, but the haunting smile did not. It hovered in the air above me, for several seconds, before erasing like a glitch in reality.
[You have attained the skill: {Fear Resistance} from encountering an Anathema.]
[You have attained the skill: [Insanity Resistance] from encountering an Anathema.]
The pressure left, and despite my lack of a physical body, I could still feel the tremors and shakes rushing through my form.
“Really? You – masakh, masakh can see me?”
Yes, I lied. I can see you.
“What does Janje look like?”
Pretty. I say without thinking. Very pretty. Like a princess I would marry.
“Masakh is funny!” Janje laughs. “Janje would never marry masakh! Masakh too ugly. Masakh too weak.”
I did not trust myself to say anything else.
“But – Janje like Masakh. Masakh nice. Masakh funny. Masakh clever. Janje go get something for masakh! Masakh wait here! Janje be right back! Promise not to leave? Promise! Promise! Promise!”
I promise.
“Yay! Janje’ll be right back!”
Janje was silent. Her voice vanished from the cave. The sound of dripping water and screeching bats reverberated left me to my silence. I kept waiting for the nine-eyed being to return. For the darkness to come back, and that horrific looking arm to extend forward and grab me. I wanted to throw up, but lacked the means and body to do so, and thus was left with a permanent sense of nausea.
Anathema – it was called. I could think of no better name. The further I thought about it, the less I desired to remember the feeling and sensation. I wanted to pretend as though I did not see it. As though it were a pure figment of my imagination.
I could not.
I was someone without faith who met something that could genuinely be compared to Satan. I knew truly nothing of the world I was in. A world with spirits, ghosts, and cosmic horrors.
Surviving was going to be significantly harder than I thought.
