Phac

Okay, so I'm out of the Soul Well.

The moment my mind snaps back into place, my senses explode outward—stretching across both my own body and the bone mech wrapped around me. It's quite the shift, like going from drowning in silence to being thrown into a concert at max volume. Every inch of flesh, every joint, every reinforced plate of bone, all at once—it's there. Present. Waiting for me to move.

I shake off the dirt covering me, clumps of soil rolling down my reinforced frame as I push myself upright. My first attempt is shaky. My second, barely better. It takes three tries before I finally steady myself on my feet. Note to self—improve joint flexibility in the prosthetic legs.

The mech feels… stiff. Not quite bad, but definitely not at its best. The bone plating creaks faintly as I shift, the structure groaning like an old door on rusted hinges. The flesh, at least, is still fresh—supple, intact, responding to my commands without lag. But yeah, I've definitely felt smoother before.

Still better than the GMK. Phuc dat sheet.

And after the sensory deprivation hell I just clawed my way out of, Fleshcrafting feels downright divine. One second, I was locked in a void tighter than a nun's—never mind—and now? I feel the stretch of my tendons, the press of my bones, the slow shift of muscle as I idly reinforce a few ligaments. It's comforting. Grounding.

I tilt my head back, eyes locking onto the sky.

The twin suns haven't moved.

Not even a little.

Now, don't get me wrong—I love the whole magic angle. I'm all for impossible bullshit when it means fleshcrafting or violently murdering goblins, but those two unmoving balls of light? They creep me the fuck out.

So. Moving on.

I pull up my status sheet.

[Name: #@&??!]

Difficulty: Hard

Floor: 1

Time left until forced return: 4y 363d 22h 5m 10s

Lvl 4

Strength: 10

Dexterity: 13

Constitution: 18

Mana: 4

[Primary Class: Unavailable]

[Sub-class: Unavailable]

Skills:

Soul Well - lvl 4

Fleshcrafting - lvl 7

Flesh Perception - lvl 3

[Skill Points: 0]

[Stat Points: 0]

Well. At least something still works as expected.

Mana went up by one for some fucking reason, and Soul Well jumped two whole levels in the two hours I spent stuck *cough cough* exploring inside it.

Gee. I wonder why.

Might have something to do with the whitish pebble I'm currently holding.

Unlike inside the Soul Well, where its howls practically rattled my nonexistent bones, I can barely hear it now. Just faint little growls, the kind that sound more pained and scared than angry. A wolf soul. One of the three I found drifting in my lovely, claustrophobic teacup of horrors.

I roll it between my fingers, feeling the odd weight of it—lighter than a real pebble, but still there, still real. The sensation is strange, like holding something that exists on the edge of my perception, threatening to slip away if I lose focus. It's the first time I'm able to properly hold one of these without it disappearing instantly. At least now I know where they went after I touched them.

And, yeah, yanking it out of myself took more effort than trying to pull a steak out of a starving lion's mouth, but at least I managed.

I don't know if other beings can hear it.

After all, I'm quite alone at the moment, despite what the voices in my head might claim.

Other humans certainly didn't see the soul mist, so it stands to reason they wouldn't hear soul sounds either. But then again, assuming things is what landed me in inside the Soul Well. It turned out well in the end, but still—note to self: No more assumptions.

At least not until I know a hell of a lot more.

And speaking of things I don't know… where the hell is everyone?

This forest is too fucking empty. No birds singing, no insects buzzing, no distant rustling of unseen creatures in the underbrush. I thought I got used to this, but come on!

No wolves. No goblins. No signs of anything wandering through since I went under.

My wolf scarecrows are still standing, untouched, right where I left them.

Yeah, no. This silence isn't normal.

It's decided—I'm going hunting the moment I'm done here.

I walk toward the closest scarecrow. Scarewolf? Whatever.

The closer I get, the more I feel it—not just see it, but sense its very structure. At twenty feet, I can trace the muscle fibers wrapped around the bones. At ten feet, I can feel them layered atop unmoving organs, preserved in stillness. And when I stand right in front of it, I catch the faintest sensation of the flesh deep beneath its peeling skin, twisted into the shape of an unbeating heart.

Flesh Perception - lvl 3 > Flesh Perception - lvl 4

I place my whip-hand on the corpse's head, and the picture sharpens in an instant. My will spreads through the carcass like a current, ready to shape it, mold it like clay. It would be so easy. The body all but sings to me, whispering of ways I could weave another layer onto my armor.

But I silence it. For now.

How strange. The cells are undeniably dead, their internal machinery wrecked beyond repair, yet the tissue still bends to my will.

Am I working with the laws of physics or against them? Gravity still exists. The photoreceptors in my eyes still depolarize when exposed to light. My heart still pumps blood. These are the biological imperatives required for my body to function—I know because I can feel every moving part inside me.

But is it truly required?

I press the white pebble into the wolf's corpse. It sinks into the flesh without resistance, vanishing from my perception the moment it's absorbed. A minute passes. Then five. The carcass remains still, nothing stirring beneath the torn skin.

I frown. Something feels different, but for the life of me, I can't tell what. I poke at the flesh, testing it. No visible change. No clear response. Just—

A flicker. A flash of text hovers over the corpse.

And then, in the space of a breath, the dead wolf lunges, sinking its fangs into my throat.