And what of our Numbers? Not the values, but specifically the markings we have on our arms. Scientists can come up with no valid explanation for those markings. Biologically, the skin marked by the Numbers is indistinguishable from any other patch of skin. But cut off a piece of blue skin where one of the Numbers is located, and within minutes that skin will lose its color. There is no biological explanation. So the only explanation is spiritual. The Numbers are not tied solely to our biological body, but rather also to our consciousness, or our “soul”, if you will. Our soul is tied (at least while alive) to our body, and it is through this connection that our Numbers reflect our attributes. When we die and our soul departs, the Numbers remain, but disconnected from the body’s attributes. The chain from the Numbers to our soul to our body has been broken.

- Excerpt from Proving the Unprovable, by Mikhail

I charge the roaring troll monster, shovel held over my head. At my charge, the troll monster hesitates in its advance, finally coming to a stop just outside the range of my shovel. It twists its head as it looks down on me with beady eyes, seemingly unsure what to make of the puny human deciding to charge it. I continue screaming and waving the shovel over my head, hoping against hope it will just turn around and leave.

The troll monster seems to consider it momentarily. But then it releases a snort of condescension and steps forward, swiping at my head with a massive clawed hand.

I duck down and feel the wind from the passing hand ruffle my hair. I swing the shovel around in a weak strike against the exposed monster’s back. It makes contact, but my unbalanced swipe doesn’t even break the skin. The troll reaches back around and grabs the end of the shovel, ripping it from my grip. There is a thin line of blue where the blade of the shovel cuts the skin on the monster’s hand, but it doesn’t seem to care.

I release the shovel completely and dive backwards. The troll is quick to pursue, and I panic as I scrabble away from it on my hands and knees in a desperate crawl. Before the monster catches up, Pallas bowls into its side, knife flashing in the light. Down, up, and then down again.

Blue blood sprays as the troll monster roars and flings Pallas off of it. He flies through the air and lands ten feet away, and immediately works himself back to his feet. Blood drips from his nose and a gash under his eye and he breathes heavily, but the look in his eyes shows that he’s not yet close to done.

I’ve managed to stand up again, spade clenched tightly in my hand. The troll monster warily splits its attention between me and Pallas. It seems to finally realize we pose a threat, small though that threat may be, and is taking us seriously.

But it doesn’t notice Melete and Styx, who have circled around the still trapped first troll monster and stealthily approach the still upright monster from behind. There’s a few feet between them, and Styx now clutches my lost shovel in her hands. I prepare myself -- it’s almost time.

The troll monster seems to have correctly come to the conclusion that Pallas is the bigger threat, and focuses its attention on him, bringing its hands to the ground in preparation for a charge. But just as it moves to take a single step, Melete’s mouth opens and I can faintly hear her voice pouring out.

This time, there’s no song or melody, just a simple wordless scream. But I can feel her skill pouring power into that scream, and even through the earplugs I wince from the spike of pain in my head. The troll monster is much more affected, and falls on its side, clutching its head as we charge it.

We have to take advantage while we can. We only have a second, before…

The troll looks up, all traces of pain gone, and Melete’s voice stutters out. But we still have a chance -- the troll monster is still on the ground, surrounded.

And then my left leg crumples underneath me as I take my next step, unable to bear my full weight.

I let out a scream as I fall. How could I have forgotten?! I struggle to stand, ignoring the pain. I’m frantic to help defeat the troll monster before our only remaining surprise is wasted. If we can’t win now, in the troll’s momentary weakness, I’m not sure if we’ll have any chance of ever winning. And escape for me is no longer an option, not with my skill blocked off.

By the time I pull myself back to my feet scant seconds later, I breathe a sigh of relief. The troll monster is still down on the ground, my friends attacking it from all sides like a pack of hyenas. The troll is still alive and struggling, but is unable to pull itself upright under the constant assault. It will occasionally sweep an arm out to attack one of them, but each strike it lands is paid back two times over. And from its position on the ground, its strikes are only strong enough to bruise and knock back -- easily recovered from. I hobble over a bit closer, but quickly realize with my leg and spade there’s little I can do to contribute. And so it’s from the edge I watch as the cuts on the troll monster multiply.

Melete is punched back into the dirt more than once, but each time she gets right back up. Her latest tumble sees one of her two knives stuck inches into the back shoulder of the monster, leaving the arm below that shoulder noticeably weaker.

At some point Styx traded the shovel to Pallas for her knife, and she continuously dodges close to swipe along the skin, leaving thin blue lines behind. The injuries she causes don’t look serious, but the troll monster overextends to try to catch her each time. Somehow, she manages to just barely dodge the monster’s grasp, her agility enough to stay one step ahead.

And each time the monster attempts to catch her, it leaves an opportunity for Pallas to swing down with the shovel, powerful swings that dig deep with each contact. The shovel isn’t nearly as sharp as the knives, but there’s a weight behind it that the knives lack. And combined with Pallas’ strength, the shovel is the biggest threat to the struggling monster.

I stare in awe at the dance with death. The coordination and trust is beautiful to see, something not even the raw strength of the troll monster can overcome.

But even with the small victories, I can see my friends weakening. Melete only has her one knife, and one of her eyes is clenched shut after the last swing of the troll monster makes contact with her face. Styx is slowing down, her mad sprint catching up with her, and a glancing blow from the troll monster’s hand knocks her to the ground. The follow up blow lands on the ground next to her head moments after she rolls away. And even Pallas is breathing heavily, the massive swings of the shovel taking their toll.

But the troll is weaker too. The last swing, a desperate attempt to finally catch Styx, leaves it completely overextended. Pallas brings the shovel high above his head, and with a yell swings it down onto the monster’s exposed neck, digging in a few inches before finally stopping. There is a gurgle as the troll monster attempts to breathe, and blue blood appears at the corners of its mouth.

Seconds pass, and Pallas brings down the shovel again in the same place, the troll monster unable to resist or dodge. On the third swing, I feel a rush as the Number on my palm reforms, and Pallas finally stops, resting on the handle of the bloody shovel.

We can’t rest for long though. The third troll monster hasn’t yet shown up, but it could at any second, and the first could escape the barbed wire at any time. We need to finish it off while we have the chance.

“Pallas…” I begin, and he immediately understands, hefting the shovel in his hands and walking over to where the first monster is trapped. It is still roaring in pain and anger, one leg and half of an arm free from the entangling wire. I have no idea how we got lucky enough for it to be so entangled, but I’ll take any sort of good fortune we can get.

The troll monster is lying face down in the dirt, attempting to push itself back upright with its one free arm, a useless prospect while its other arm and leg remain trapped. It doesn’t realize its mistake until the edge of the shovel comes down on the back of its neck, increasing its struggles until five swings later, when the last of the troll monster’s energy leaves.

From the way Pallas swings the shovel, I can imagine he is chopping wood rather than executing a trapped monster. After the second swing, Styx is on her hands and knees, puking into the grass, and Melete has turned away. I stare at Pallas and the monster with every swing.

When I finally feel the second rush as the Number on my palm increases further, I breathe a sigh of relief. Pallas turns to look at me, and I can see the weariness press on him. Heavier than just the weight of the shovel, more than just the ache in his muscles, I see the strain in his eyes, the strain that sits on his soul.

I can’t do anything to relieve that strain. All I can do is be there with him, and let him know that he isn’t alone. I give him a nod.

Pallas closes his eyes. Inhales. Exhales. Opens his eyes and nods back to me.

We pick up our weapons and without a word limp back to our hideout.

After only twenty yards we have to stop and take a break while I use my skill to fix my leg. It takes a few minutes, but is noticeably easier than it had been yesterday. Not to the point that it is easy, or anywhere close to easy. I’m still left exhausted and dripping sweat by the time I open my eyes and look down on two healthy legs. But I’ve clearly progressed in the skill -- and my tattoo seems to reflect that. The tattoo on my right arm now has changed to a solid orange color, rather than the original deep red it started as.

I jump to my feet, happy to be back at full strength. Looking at Pallas, Melete, and Styx, some of my energy drains away. Despite the rest while they waited for me to fix my leg, they still look exhausted. Styx and Melete are slowly standing off of the ground from where they had been waiting. Only Pallas stayed on his feet while I used my skill, but is leaning heavily against the shovel to hold himself up.

Pallas has blood splattered all over him. Luckily, most of it is blue, but there are streaks of red along his face where his nose and cut under his eye are still bleeding.

Melete keeps her right eye closed and the skin around it is starting to swell. She hasn’t complained at all, so I’m hoping there’s no damage beyond just a black eye.

Styx doesn’t have any noticeable new injuries, but I can see the exhaustion that’s piling up on her. While the rest of us just fought the two troll monsters, she participated in the fight after making three harrowing trips into town, followed by an all out sprint to survive until the ambush point.

I’m in the best condition out of everyone.

“I’ll go get the backpacks.” I finally state. “You all head back to our base and get cleaned up.”

“No! It’s not safe, we need to stick together.” Styx replies. “If a troll finds you, there’s no way you can outrun it.”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure how much help more safety us being together would be, as we are now. And we need those supplies.”

Styx looks around, and seems to notice our small group’s condition. I can’t read Pallas’ expression, covered in blood as it is, but Melete clearly doesn’t care either way: she’s taking our conversation as a signal that she has a bit more time to rest, and is sprawled out spread eagle on the ground with her eyes closed.

After deliberating, Styx finally replies. “Fine. Just be careful.”

“Of course.” I turn around and set out in the opposite direction, back towards town.

“Be safe.” Pallas deep voice calls out before I get too far. I turn back to give them all a small salute, Melete waving right back. Styx just keeps looking at me until I finally break into a slow jog and head back into the tall grass.

It only takes me about fifteen minutes to pick up the first backpack and return to the base. As I arrive, I reach back and grab one of the full bottles of water and toss it to Pallas, who’s currently trying to clean off the blood and cuts with a dry shirt. Smart of him to not needlessly waste our dwindling water supply, but not terribly effective.

“How was it?” Styx had been keeping watch when I walked up, and she followed me to the camp area when I arrived.

“Easy peasy,” I reply. “No sign of any monsters that I could see.”

“Do you want one of us to…” Styx begins.

“Nah, just rest and get cleaned up,” I interrupt before she has a chance to offer. I can see how weary she is. “How’s the eye?”

This last question is directed at Melete, who is lying on her back with her eyes closed. Even in that position, I can see how swollen and puffy the skin around her right eye looks.

Without moving her head, her left eye opens and rolls around to stare at me. She shrugs her shoulders.

“Eh, could be worse. Not my first black eye, and certainly not gonna be my last. Bit dizzy now, but I think I’ll be right as rain in a few days,” Melete replies.

I pause, and try to think of a reply. “...you’re expecting to get another black eye?”

She just shrugs again, “Hey, life happens. Gotta roll with the punches.”

Styx just shakes her head and returns to her post outside of the copse on watch. I toss the backpack onto the ground, pick up the handles to the wheelbarrow and announce, “Well, I’m going back for the rest -- be back in a few.”

Pallas waves, before returning to his attempts to wipe off the dried blood. Melete holds up a single hand, first two fingers lifted in a peace symbol.

I walk out of the copse and pause next to Styx. She has her eyes fixed on the horizon. There’s no sign of any monsters that I can see, but she doesn’t avert her eyes as I stand there.

The silence is finally broken by her voice, quieter than I’ve ever heard it.

“...I was so scared…”

I nod and wait. I’m not sure what to say. And even if I were I’m not sure if my words are what she needs right now.

“I tried to be brave for the trips into town. But then I made a mistake -- I dropped a bottle of pills in the store. They must have heard me. And then the only thing I could do was run. I was so scared. The only thing I could think of was the trap you came up with. I knew it wouldn’t work, that there were more than one following me and that the trap would only work on the first. But it was all I could think of.”

The words are spilling out of her. She takes a deep gasping breath, voice shaking.

“And I led them right to all of you. You could have died. And it would have been my fault. And --”

I finally decide to speak up, interrupting. “It wouldn’t have been your fault, it would have been the monsters’ fault. You did exactly what you were supposed to. Look at me.”

She is still staring off to the horizon, so I step in front of her until we are eye to eye. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears. “None of the rest of us would have been able to do what you did.” I continue, “Your speed, it’s...incredible. And we’re a team -- we wouldn’t have left you, in the same way you didn’t leave us. We’re there for each other. And look at me.” I gesture to myself. “I’m completely fine. Sure, we might have died. But we didn’t. And if you didn’t get those supplies, we would have died. YOU saved us, in a way no one else could. So...thank you.”

I stare her in the eyes for a few seconds, attempting to convey my earnestness, making sure she gets the message. Suddenly, I feel self-conscious, and I start to turn away.

But before I can leave, she reaches out and pulls me into a hug, her head buried into my shoulder. I reflexively hug her back and hold her. For what seems to be an eternity she is pressed to my chest, under my arms.

All too soon, eternity ends and she pulls away. She wipes her nose on her sleeve and smiles. “Thank you too, Atlas. Stay safe. We need you.”

I smile back and nod. I turn away and jog back to the remaining supplies, a spring in my step.

S: 90

D:80

W: 203

I: 43

C: 54

165 (+165)

Skills: Adjust:Self