Heir of the Fog

CHAPTER TWENTY

Adaptation in the Fog

The dreamworld embraced me once again. I found myself in that familiar forest, surrounded by figures whose faces I could not quite recall. Their features blurred in the haze, yet I sensed something in me shifting, like an undercurrent of change.

I had experienced countless long sleeps over the years, but this felt different in ways I could not fully grasp. There was a heightened awareness of the changes happening within me—even in the dream itself. It was as though I could feel my bones and muscles, and even pieces of my mind, rearranging themselves. At the same time, sharp flashes of my battle against the diremaws flickered through my consciousness.

I saw, in excruciating detail, every moment of failure: my lack of agility, my insufficient strength, my slow reflexes. I even noticed a brief hesitation right before I struck at the remaining eye of that last beast. For the tiniest heartbeat, I felt a new fragment of my mind forming, a piece created to erase that hesitation as if I stood in a vast library, where portions of my psyche were being shuffled around.

Each fragment of my mind lay exposed for just an instant. I watched qualities of my personality link up with various memories, new pieces magnetizing together, others clashing and repelling. Some of these fragments were clearly tied to my early days with my first family in District 98, and those did not mesh with this new piece designed to correct my hesitation.

I also caught sight of memories I did not recognize. They clung to certain fragments, and I could not fully see or interpret them, only sense faint echoes of distant recollections. One echo in particular repeated endlessly, over and over, while I felt these mental and physical transformations ripple through me in that fragmented library of my subconscious:

"All living creatures adapt and evolve based on their environment," it said. And in that echo, I barely recalled someone approaching with a needle. It was not Markus; it was one of the strange people from my dreamworld.

This was a memory from a very long time ago. I also heard echoes of people describing me lying in a bed inside a white, sterile room, while others in white coats hovered around, taking notes as I slipped into what felt like my first long sleep. It was like I was glimpsing the true origin of this dormant state.

Even inside that earliest long sleep, I had a sense of them standing nearby. They gasped and murmured about how forced DNA changes were creating tumors in the body of "Test Subject #5439," the same designation Kara once told me was assigned to me. They also talked about how inducing an "anhydrobiosis state" might counteract the damage by starving these cells or activating repair pathways to counteract the forced changes causing what they called "cancer." I wondered, in a vague part of my mind, what such a thing was, maybe a kind of flu?

Then I felt my consciousness fragment in that distant memory, and everything went black. The next thing I knew, I snapped out of the dreamworld and my long sleep, jolted back into my vision of the fog.

Those dreams had felt so real, and I could tell something about me had changed. Glancing around, I noticed two dead diremaws lying near the edge of a pond. One carcass had already been devoured down to scraps, while the other was only half-eaten. For an unsettling moment, I wondered if I myself had been partially eaten, and if I had spent years lost in the dreamworld.

Kara quickly dispelled that notion with a gentle nudge in my mind. She stated it had only been a few weeks, maybe a month at most.

"So why didn't something eat me while I was lying here?" I asked silently.

[Kara]

[User has finally left the status of malnourishment and anemic. However, because we share senses, I cannot provide a definitive answer of what happened. The probable conclusion is that some wandering beast came to drink from the pond, snacked on these remains, and left satisfied before finishing the second diremaw. System means no offense, but user's flesh may simply have been overlooked in favor of better meal options.]

A strangled laugh escaped me. The diremaws were not necessarily the only creatures drinking at this pond, and apparently one beast saw me lying there, decided I was not worth the trouble, and left me alone. I did not know whether to be insulted or relieved. In any case, I promised myself to be more cautious next time. I had been lucky to kill the second diremaw before slipping into my long sleep; otherwise, I might have stayed stuck in that dreamworld for a much longer time.

Then I remembered the changes I sensed during that sleep. My mind flashed to the image of that vast library, fragments of thought arranging themselves. Immediately, I asked Kara for a body analysis.

She was already on it.

I felt a cascade of notifications in my head—an extensive report of alterations my body underwent, but most terms were beyond my understanding. So I asked her to simplify.

[Kara]

[During your dormant state, the system was online and monitoring all changes. I must notify the user that the earlier analysis of user being incapable of utilizing mana is not entirely accurate. Most of the energy fueling these adaptations, along with the dormant state itself, was mana.]

"Wait," I thought, stunned, "so I can wield mana in some way?"

[Kara]

[Not exactly. A deeper explanation of mana may be necessary. Would the user like to proceed?]

[Yes/No]

"Of course I do," I muttered aloud, then grimaced at the sound of my own voice echoing in the stillness. The fog could carry noise farther than one expected.

[Kara]

[Mana flows through the body; it is not halted by tissue barriers and can enact changes if it flows uncontrollably. This is what we call corruption. Creatures with cores can channel mana into their cores, which regulate the flow. The Human Core Formation project concluded that creating a core was the only stable method to use mana without succumbing to corruption.]

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That made partial sense. My mind jumped to the simple fact that I did, indeed, have mana coursing through me—even though I had no core and should have fallen to corruption. Instead, it had somehow stabilized. I wanted to ask Kara for details, but she was already responding to the thought.

[Kara]

[Yes, that is correct. The project's research was flawed, and you are living proof. However, most mana entering your body disperses. Only in this dormant state was it harnessed, channeled with intent. I realize you have no memory of controlling it, but I believe you, yourself, consciously directed the changes, even if you were not aware of it at the time.]

I pictured that cavernous library again, me standing amid floating bits of memory, weaving them together in new patterns. It might have been the part of my mind formed during my first long sleep. Kara presented her theory with calm precision, and while I was not entirely sure, it matched the feeling I had deep in my bones.

She gave me a summary of the physical changes next, highlighting what my body had repaired and enhanced, as well as how the mana flowed differently than before while in the dormant state.

The first thing Kara reported was the increased bone density in my legs, evidently a result of the damage I sustained when I jumped from that second-floor window. Specifically, she mentioned some changes in the alignment of my ankle ligaments. She then moved on to my skin, pointing out that it had grown slightly thicker. My muscles had also bulked up, almost enough to match Tarin's stature, yet the most intriguing feature lay in the microscopic reassembly of my fibers—at least, according to Kara. Apparently, they now displayed certain properties found only in diremaws.

Experimentally, I tested my legs. I discovered I could leap twice as high as before, enough that I might even reach a second-floor ledge from a standing jump. Of course, I realized that such a leap could cause damage to my ankles if pushed that much. I also sensed a slight increase in my running speed, a new lightness that made each stride easier.

But none of that fascinated me as much as my sense of smell. It felt like an entirely new sense had been unlocked. I could distinguish all sorts of odors I had never picked up on before, including my own. To my surprise, it did not strike me as distinctly human or even wholly beastly; my scent was layered with the strong, earthy weeds I gathered to disguise my presence. If I concentrated, I noticed the underlying human trace, but the camouflage reeked more prominently. Kara had theorized that by spending my long sleeps in the fog with those plants pressed against my skin, I might have partially assimilated the plants' properties into my biology. It sounded extreme, but the evidence was in my heightened sense of smell and the camouflage of scent emanating from me.

My thoughts drifted to that eerie vision of my fragmented mind in the fog, the newly created piece that corrected my hesitation. The changes felt profound, and I caught myself thinking I could now face those diremaws without needing a surprise attack, maybe even handle them without dying in the process. I felt faster, stronger—capable, somehow. No wonder my instincts had driven me to fight them. That encounter, and my near-fatal error, had taught me a lesson that was now embedded in my very bones.

That said, there was one downside: I had lost many of the resources I could have harvested from the diremaws. By the time I fully recovered, I found only scraps of meat from the second carcass that were barely edible. At least I managed to retrieve two more ebony cores. Unfortunately, I lost a dagger in the fight and broke my spears, though I still had many stored away. The only real tragedy was the gaping tear in my shirt, an expensive garment provided by the Blackthorn family. They had spared no cost on my clothing, and now I had destroyed it.

I sighed, hoping I could repair it later. I did bring along a small kit for stitching and patching, after all, though I doubted I could restore the shirt to its original quality. My thicker skin offered some consolation. It gave me a bit more protection from the elements, if not from sharp claws. At least I did not feel as reliant on the clothing's minor defense.

All those changes only fueled my drive to fight again, not dampen it as I had expected. A hunger for the next challenge stirred in me. Kara insisted I should be cautious, but I could not ignore the swell of excitement. As I tried to salvage what little remained of the diremaw carcass, removing any usable bones or hide, I sensed that the fog had another plan.

Because as I knelt at the pond's edge, rinsing off blood and scraps, I saw a flicker of movement overhead. It was near twilight, and the dim light glinted off something lurking in the building's ceiling—the gaping hole. Something was perched there, peering down at me with unmistakable curiosity.

A beast.

"How long has it been watching me?" I wondered. The creature did not appear bothered by my scrutiny. Maybe it had returned for the half-eaten diremaw or just came to drink from the pond. Either way, it fixed its attention on me with unsettling calm.

In the dying light, I realized it had no eyes that I could see. Its entire face was blank, save for two thick horns protruding from either side of its head. Its body was sleek, almost predatory in a nightmarish way, with wings folded tight against its back. This was some airborne terror built for stealth and sudden ambush. Two long horns—yes, but no visible mouth or recognizable eyes, only a smooth, featureless plate where a face ought to be.

It crouched in the broken ceiling, clearly bipedal, maybe two meters tall, not an immense beast but far from small. My gaze traveled to its tail and nails: humanlike hands with impossibly long, thin nails. They looked delicate, but given everything I had learned, I suspected they were as formidable as the diremaws' claws. As it readied itself, those nails seemed to lengthen fractionally. I guessed I had messed with its meal, and it wanted revenge—or at least a taste of me.

Its skin was a dark gray, a matte finish that blended effortlessly into the failing light. Then it pushed off the ceiling with a silent grace, opening its wings just enough to slow its descent. Landing on two feet only a few meters away, the beast straightened. I felt it regarding me. Perhaps it was analyzing my posture, deciding whether I was worth the fight, or maybe it was just curious.

[Kara]

[User is advised to flee. The beast before the user is a Gloomwing, an Onyx Core beast, classified as a Tier 2 magical beast. As a Tier 2 beast, it is capable of cunning behavior and minor magical abilities.]

The message hammered at my nerves. My first instinct was fear—Tier 2? But my new reflexes, or instincts, or whatever mix of mind fragments I had pieced together, told me running was pointless. This creature had wings. If I tried to escape in the open, it could easily chase me, especially once darkness fully settled.

And it was getting darker.

The Gloomwing studied me. With no real eyes to speak of, I could not read its expression, but there were four narrow openings, two on each side of its face—that might be how it perceived me. Perhaps specialized sensory pits or something akin to vision in infrared. In the fog, my advantage was often stealth, but that also seems to be this beast's major advantage.

I barely defeated a Tier 1 beast. Now a Tier 2 stood in front of me.

A rush of panic flared in my chest. Yet in the space of a heartbeat, I felt something in my mind click, replacing that fear with a surge of exhilaration. As though some piece of me had been swapped out in the library of my fragmented thoughts. The fear was replaced by a rush of excitement, I felt the adrenaline and even the air entering my lungs. I breathed in the chilly air, muscles tensing.

I wanted to fight. I wanted to consume and adapt.

And the Gloomwing seemed to sense it. My body language must have telegraphed everything, because the beast braced itself, nails extending further, wings twitching. A deep craving in my heart resonated with something intangible—maybe mana—and I braced my feet on the ground.

The craving felt endless.