Heir of the Fog

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Nomad of the Mistlands

The remainder of the long sleep proved remarkably pleasant in my dreamworld. Yet I could feel new changes stirring within me. The first thing I noticed was an improvement in my legs, as though the other part of my mind had decided to refine how I controlled muscular exertion and ligament tension. It seemed intent on preventing the sort of damage I had inflicted on myself during the battle with the gloomwing.

In the end, there were obvious limits to what this other consciousness or whatever it was could accomplish. Even though my musculature had improved somewhat, and the density of my bones had increased, my body still was not completely prepared to handle every strain. For instance, I could still jump an entire floor in one leap if I wanted, but it now regulated my muscle usage so I would not constantly hurt myself, like I had before, unless I truly exerted myself in critical situations.

From the fleeting glimpses I experienced in that half-conscious state, I gathered that the sudden enhancement in my musculature after fighting the diremaws had come from re-purposing existing mass. Mana, harnessed during the long sleeps, worked like crude fuel only, not a source of matter. Therefore, I sensed that my other self wanted to perform more extensive modifications, but it could not. There were elements of my biology that simply could not be changed without some external catalyst, such as me acquiring more mass.

I also felt how my manalytic channels seemed totally nonfunctional due my incapability of truly harnessing mana beyond only fuel for long sleeps. Even with the alterations in my anatomy, my ability to harness mana felt incomplete. According to Kara's explanations, a certain ritual was necessary for someone like me to truly advance a core. It was a step beyond what my own adaptive capabilities could accomplish.

She had tried to describe it to me before, something about intangible factors existing outside normal reality, which apparently required assistance from certain ancients from other worlds or simply what the ancients from Araksiun called "The Old Ones." Elina had once told me that the ancients of Araksiun speculated a great deal about these entities and the intangible realm of souls. A core's transformation from Ebony to Onyx, or even Crimson, supposedly needed more than raw mana. It needed a metaphysical push that humans could never quite decipher, not even the humans from Araksiun.

Based on what Kara told me, the Human Core Formation project had tried to skip forming a Tier 1 Ebony Core by staging a Tier 2 (Onyx) advancement ritual directly. It worked in principle—except every single test subject died from the process even though many did form an ebony core before dying. Evolving a core to another tier, whether Ebony to Onyx or beyond, was extremely dangerous even for magical beasts. Many died during the transition, their bodies simply failing to withstand that qualitative leap.

That was why Kara advised me not to rush even with my capabilities to come back from death. But after the gloomwing fight, I felt a stronger drive than ever. I understood that my body now longed for mana, for a stable core, and yet it had no access to that final step. It weighed on my thoughts, even in the dreamworld.

When I finally emerged from the long sleep, a wave of depletion struck me. My cells expected a nourishing flow of mana but received none. It was as though my other part had purposely left them wanting mana, a nudge that compelled me to seek out this elusive "ritual" or some means to achieve the transformation.

My manalytic channels felt drained. The modifications in my heart, apparently trying to function like a core, amounted to little if I could not complete that final metamorphosis. Even though the fog continually surrounded me with its warmth, I could not truly absorb it in the way a legitimate magical creature would. The ancient process had never been done.

That realization sparked a creeping dread in me, and a quick glance at my surroundings only deepened the unease. My clothes and equipment lay in tatters—completely ruined. I realized I must have landed face-first onto another building at some point. Now, as I looked around, I saw dried blood splattered across the rubble, even fragments of what used to be my face clinging to a broken ledge. The flesh had begun to rot but hadn't fully decomposed yet. In Araksiun, items and organic matter decayed slowly, so I guessed months had passed.

The fog's warmth remained my only comfort. I had lost the dagger, and the gloomwing's body lay nearby. My precious supply of diremaw meat was most likely wasted by now, having rotted or stolen away over the many months I had slept.

I sighed at the thought. I would need to hunt fresh beasts soon, especially if I intended to carry out the rituals that demanded blood and Ebony Cores. My mind spun with the weight of it all: a quest for more resources, more hunts, more kills.

[Kara]

[Warning, user biology incurred multiple major changes. Heart anatomy is twisted, and the reasons are unknown.]

Kara's system notification appeared a moment later. Evidently, she could sense my bodily changes only after I reemerged from the long sleep. I wondered briefly why Kara lacked access to my experiences in that state, but I guessed the other half of me was blocking her out. Still, I formed an answer in my head, believing Kara could pick up on my thoughts.

[Kara]

[User's heart and vascular changes intended to turn a heart into a core are unconventional and risky. Rigid control over mana in a proper core exists for a reason: the constant threat of corruption.]

I silently agreed that it sounded perilous. I knew I was not the best person to analyze it. During my long sleep, I had felt as though I understood every detail intimately, but now that clarity was gone. Words like "manalytic channels" and "managlobin" lingered at the edges of my mind, but I could only vaguely grasp how my blood might merge with mana. Despite the strangeness, I trusted that other part of me—whatever it was—to handle these transformations well enough.

"Haven't you said I'm already corrupted and it's stable?" I muttered aloud, half to Kara, half to myself, as I sat on the crumbling edge of the tall building. "So what's the problem with letting it flow freely?"

A gust of mild wind brushed my face. The fog parted, revealing a broken urban landscape stretching out below me. Months of drifting in the fog had sharpened my vision, so I could see far more than before. The building I rested upon stood at least thirty floors high, and at a distance, I spotted a monumental skyscraper leaning against another—both half ruined. It looked as if some gargantuan beast had slammed into them, leaving massive claw marks across their steel frames.

Dozens of flying creatures soared in the hazy skies beyond the towers. Shafts of sunlight broke through sections of the fog, glinting off jagged shards of glass in the collapsed windows. The effect was almost beautiful, reflecting bright flashes whenever the wind shifted.

"Such a wonderful thing it must be to fly," I murmured to myself.

For a moment, I simply watched the silhouettes of those creatures spiraling in the distant haze. Despite my broken gear, my uncertain biology, and the secrets of core evolution that still eluded me, I felt a spark of awe. This wrecked city might be a graveyard of ancient wonders, but it was strangely magnificent at the same time.

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Kara, on the other hand, still seemed troubled by the changes in my heart.

[Kara]

[It has never been done, as every creature plagued by corruption eventually succumbs. The system cannot fully grasp possible consequences. The project Human Core Formation was intended to create a being capable of surviving the formation of a core through rituals, to adapt to it. The directives did not include merging mana into one's intrinsic nature.]

I contemplated her words in silence. Despite her concerns, a calm acceptance settled over me. Perhaps the other part of my consciousness had decided these things already, and I trusted it. I felt no fear about my body's direction. The only real dread I carried was the realization that I had spent months in the fog. My body had definitely grown taller, but I did not know if it was part of an evolutionary process or just normal aging, maybe the other side of me was ensuring I would look like a proper eleven-year-old by the time I returned to District 98.

I thought fleetingly about how the people back in the district must have assumed I was dead by now. Yet something in my heart insisted that my first family, the ones who truly believed in me, would keep waiting. They knew I would eventually come back. Maybe that faith was enough to justify these long months of transformation. I guessed the time spent healing from all those broken bones and torn muscles was necessary, along with the deeper changes my body had undertaken.

I sighed gently, then spoke to Kara, relieved she allowed me to finish my thoughts without interrupting.

"Kara, I understand the project had very specific directives," I said, "but if we can surpass what the people of Araksiun believed possible, wouldn't that be a good thing? I'm already corrupted, so maybe I can benefit from letting mana flow freely. Isn't that an advantage?"

As I spoke, I gazed into the distance, watching two flying beasts tear into each other midair. Their screeches echoed through the fog, twisting my stomach in a strange mixture of awe and revulsion. Blood sprayed in short arcs before the victorious creature dragged the loser's corpse into a half-collapsed building to devour it. The raw brutality of life in the fog felt oddly normal to me now.

[Kara]

[User is correct. As you are the only surviving member of the Human Core Formation project, I will accept these new directives. However, certain ingredients are still lacking.]

Yes, I knew exactly what we were missing: plenty of blood and five more Ebony Cores. I had a pretty good idea how to obtain them too—by hunting more beasts. But before I chased after fresh prey, I wanted a new base of operations, especially since I had killed a Tier 2 monster and hoped to use every possible part of its remains.

I realized then just how close to naked I was. My clothes had turned to ragged strips barely clinging to my frame, and I had tied those remnants into improvised ropes to haul the gloomwing. According to Kara's calculations, the creature weighed about sixty kilograms, much less than a diremaw, so I thought carrying it wouldn't be too difficult. But then I remembered I was on the top floor of a building at least thirty stories high, and every one of those flights of stairs loomed in front of me.

I took a moment to steel myself. Well, I reasoned, it would serve as a rigorous workout. Kara often made me run or do weight-bearing exercises to strengthen my legs, but the changes in my muscles were geared more toward explosive movement, not prolonged exertion. Nevertheless, with a grunt, I hefted the gloomwing's lifeless body and began my descent.

It took a very, very long time. By the time I reached the ground floor and stepped outside, my legs burned. Even my enhanced physique felt taxed by so many trips down crumbling staircases. Exiting the building, I squinted through the swirling fog, trying to orient myself. I wanted to find the main road that connected districts, to place myself somewhere familiar—hopefully near the old hideout I had been using.

By dusk, I arrived at my usual spot and decided I would shift my "base" closer to District 99, the next district in line. Honestly, traveling there would take only a few minutes of running if I did not carry heavy cargo. Still, I used the move as another training opportunity.

See, the path from District 98 to the lower districts was long primarily because many districts in between lay collapsed. Under normal circumstances, with a fully functional line of wards, traveling between gaps from one district to another spanned only a few kilometers, a distance a skilled Chainrunner could cover in under an hour, provided no large beasts interfered and no heavy cargo. But my plan to relocate closer to District 99 was about more than convenience. It was a chance for me to hone survival methods, and Kara had no objections.

The first step was selecting a suitable hiding place. I relied on my instincts, letting Kara watch and correct me if I overlooked something critical. Then I set up my new base—designating a small, partially underground area as living space, choosing a separate building for storing goods, masking scents with foliage and local weeds, and creating rudimentary alarm systems with wires and glass shards balanced above doorways. If any creature tried to push its way in, the tumbling debris would alert me.

I was especially conscious of stealth after facing the gloomwing, whose silent approach easily surpassed my own. This time, I moved around mostly in daylight, thinking I might avoid some of the more nocturnal predators. If nothing else, I had gleaned from the gloomwing encounter that being too confident at night was dangerous.

Eventually, I settled into a small basement beneath a one-story house, tucking my improvised bedroll into a dusty corner. The rest of my supplies I stored in an adjacent structure to prevent any rancid smells from drawing monsters to my living space, after all there were limits to what weeds and foliage can hide. I had learned that lesson with the diremaw meat as once I came back after months, there was no meat rotting, there was actually no meat at all, some beast must have found it eventually.

But that day, I did not need to worry about hunger. I had the gloomwing, a Tier 2 beast whose meat would certainly be nutritious, if perhaps a bit too strong for my body. Kara insisted that I sleep immediately after consuming such rich flesh, explaining that it would help me develop more than usual.

I managed to extract about twenty-two kilograms of meat, not much, but that was expected due to how light the Tier 2 beast was, but at least it had minimal fat. I roasted it carefully, and by the end, I had a succulent cut of red meat that seemed to pulse in rhythm with the mana around it.

It was an unsettling sight. Tissues imbued with mana could behave strangely, and as I watched them shimmer in the firelight, I could not help wondering what might happen once my heart core eventually functioned. Would a creature that dared to eat me become some twisted aberration from my corruption? The idea that "getting eaten" might be a viable strategy in a fight flickered through my head, but I realized quickly how foolish that would be. Best not to dwell on it.

Pushing those grim musings aside, I prepared for what I hoped would be the most delicious meal of my life. Admittedly, I felt uneasy about carving meat from a bipedal creature that resembled a human in some ways, but the promise of high-nutrient sustenance ultimately won out. When I finally took a bite, exhilaration washed over me. The taste proved even more magnificent than I had imagined, and by the time I finished, I had eaten far more than I intended. True to Kara's advice, I soon fell into a deep, restful sleep, allowing my body to process the massive intake of food.

The next morning began with Kara pushing me through an intense series of training regimens. She wanted to ensure I adapted to my newly changed physique without injuring myself in battle. She also mentioned that physical training was an excellent way to build mental discipline.

I was not fully convinced. Having someone in my head who judged every lapse in effort seemed more than enough motivation to stick to the routines. Between that and the threat that she might "charge double" for any day I skipped in the past months even if the long sleep prevented muscle loss, I did not see how my willpower factored in. But I complied regardless, knowing Kara was a relentless instructor who could read my thoughts, making it impossible to feign or slack off.

By mid-afternoon the following day, I finally reached the moment I had been eagerly awaiting. I had retrieved only the gloomwing's meat last night, and now I planned to handle the rest of the carcass and important resources for crafting. After all, I could not arrive at District 99 dressed in mere undergarments.

"Let me see," I said into the open air. "The gloomwing's stealth abilities were unrivaled, but it isn't as large as a diremaw, so I don't have much hide to work with. I need to be careful about this—maybe I can only make a single piece of clothing." I muttered the words even though no one was around to hear me.

I sketched ideas in my book, thinking about everything I could do with gloomwing hide. Eventually, a thought sparked in my mind: a cloak. A cloak fashioned from a creature of the night.