And it is this mindset, a mindset of dichotomies, that we must maintain. We must always strive to increase our Numbers, a continual focus on the betterment of ourselves reflected in the markings on our arm. Yet, we cannot allow ourselves to be discouraged by the current state of our Numbers. We always have to remember that the person we want to be, the Numbers we want to have, can still be obtained. But even if they are years away, we cannot focus on the difference between our current selves and those eventual goals. We can only dwell on the difference between our current Numbers and our current Numbers plus one. Because that is all we can control.

- Excerpt from Fifty Numbers in Fifty Days, by Stankich

We gather around the supplies in our base for a quick planning session.

“First things first,” I start, “are there any other supplies we need? Anything else you think is essential?”

Styx, Pallas, and Melete pass around the backpacks to check what all we have. Pallas is wearing a new shirt, this one thankfully free of blood. Melete’s eye still looks just as swollen, but after a short nap her headache doesn’t seem to be bothering her.

“‘Essential’ might be a strong word,” Pallas begins, “but I’d like to have a better weapon. No offense to your shovel, Atlas.”

“None taken,” I reply. “I agree, but...what would we look for? More knives?”

“More knives is always a good thing.” Melete interjects, her smile appearing significantly creepier with her eye swollen shut.

Styx continues as if Melete hadn’t spoken. “The knives we’re using are getting a bit dull, it would be nice to trade up. But just having knives isn’t good enough, we need at least one of us to have a weapon that’s a bit heavier and longer.” She’s looking at Pallas as she says this, her intention of who should have the heavier weapon clear.

“A gun would be ideal.” Pallas says.

“Do you know how to use a gun?” I ask. “I fired one once with my uncle. It was ages ago, my parents weren’t happy with him for letting me. The main thing I remember was that it was a lot more complicated than I had expected.”

“Yeah, I’ve gone shooting a few times. My dad used to be in the army, so he has a couple.” Pallas replies. “The main trouble is finding one, along with ammo to go with it. That’s the main reason I mention this now -- I want to get away from these trolls as soon as possible, but a town like this is a lot more likely to have guns than any other town we come across as we get closer to the city.”

We sit in silence, considering. I finally say, “If you think it’s worth it, then we could always raid a few--’

Pallas interrupts me before I can go any further. “I’m not saying that’s what we should do. I’m just making sure we are all aware. If we want to get a gun, this is our best chance. But I don’t know if it’s worth it.” Pallas doesn’t seem to want to be the one to make the decision. I understand and sympathize, but the decision is going to have to be made at some point.

“Hm, let’s think about it, and table that discussion for now. As well as my spade has worked so far, I’d like to trade it in for something better too, if it’s possible. But if it’s too risky, I can keep using it. Next -- Numbers. How many did each of you gain in that last battle?”

They each glance to their palms before replying,

“One forty-eight,” says Melete.

“One seventy-two,” says Styx.

“One ninety,” Pallas adds.

“Hm, and I got one hundred sixty-five. That’s what?” I do a bit of mental math. “Something like seven hundred total? Between the four of us we got almost six...wait no, almost five hundred from the first troll monster.”

Styx nods. “So we get less Numbers based off of how high our Numbers are?”

“Either that or it’s based off of the number of times we’ve killed the same monster. I’d guess it’s more likely to be the first though -- that seems to follow the trend of Numbers being harder to raise the higher they get.”

“I killed both of the monsters, so I guess it makes sense that I got the most. But why is there such a difference in your Numbers? What did you do differently?” Pallas asks.

“Yeah! I helped just as much!” Melete pouts, “...stupid apocalypse hates me…” she mumbles under her breath.

“I really have no guesses. Contribution, maybe? How high our Numbers were before? It probably doesn’t matter right now, I don’t think that’s something we’ll be able to affect,” I say. “For now -- how do we want to spend our Numbers?”

No one seems to want to speak up at first, until after a moment Styx starts talking.

“Honestly, our previous plan worked really well. Amazingly well, in fact. Pallas’ strength was exactly what we needed to finish off each of the trolls. Atlas came up with the trap that we used to take out the first troll. Melete’s skill was what gave us the chance to get the jump on the second troll. And if I had been just a little less fast…well, I definitely wouldn’t be here to complain about it.”

“I agree,” I state. “But before we use them the same way we did before...Melete, can you explain a bit more what you meant yesterday when you said, ‘what your skill wanted’?”

“Well, it’s hard to describe really,” Melete starts. “Do you both have a ‘feeling’ for your skill? Like what you use to make it go?”

I think about what I’d been mentally referring to as my ‘third arm’ and nod. Styx closes her eyes for a second, focuses, and then opens them before nodding as well.

“Well one day when I was practicing using my skill, turning it off and on -- wait, you know I can still sing without causing pain, right?”

“I thought your music always caused pain, even before the skill,” Styx comments with a smile. I hold in a snigger, but Melete frowns and looks genuinely hurt until Styx apologizes. “Sorry, sorry, I’m just kidding, I always thought you had a great voice.”

Melete’s face lights up again. “Thanks! Anyway, I was focusing on that ‘switch,’ on how to turn my skill on, and I got a feeling. Like I said, it’s hard to explain. But it felt like the skill was hungry. And what it craved was my charisma Number.”

“Huh, that easy?” I ask. “No offense, but...are you sure you didn’t just imagine it to have an excuse to add Numbers to charisma?”

Melete gives a disdainful sniff and scoffs. “As if. I’d never want to be one of those stupid charisma focused snobs. It pains me every time I have to waste my free Numbers on the stupid dump Number. But...if that’s what my skill wants, that’s what my skill is gonna get.”

She seems awfully sure she didn’t imagine the feeling, but I’m still not completely convinced.

“I’m not sure how comfortable I feel ‘feeding’ these skills my Numbers. How much do we really know about the skills anyway?” Styx asks.

That’s a good point. “Well, you and I can try and see if we can get a feel for what Melete felt from our skills. If we can’t, it doesn’t matter either way. But beyond that, I think we need to round out some of our other Numbers, too. I’m not sure what exactly is a good amount, but I think we should all get our strength and dexterity to at least...a hundred, maybe? As weak and slow as we are, it could be dangerous to leave them as they are.”

“But that’s almost half of my free Numbers!” Melete whines, sounding more like an eight year old than her full sixteen years.

“Obviously, it’s your choice,” I reply. “I’m just thinking what might be best for survival.”

“...you can’t just say something like that after saying ‘it’s your choice’...” she says.

I smile. “Hey, it’s the truth.” Melete grumbles something else under her breath, but I choose to ignore it. “That’s all I’ve got for now -- planning for supplies and allocating the Numbers. We haven’t seen any monsters come out in the fields this far, but we still need to be on the lookout. We should rest up for what’s left of today, and if we need more time, maybe tomorrow. Not too long though, or else we’ll need another supply run. I can take the next watch after we’re done here, but before that -- anything else I missed? Any other plans we need to make?”

As the silence stretches, I’m about to move out to start my watch until Pallas speaks up.

“Communication.”

“What?” Styx asks.

"We need a better way to communicate. Sign language maybe?” At our confused looks, Pallas elaborates further. ”One of our biggest strengths is Melete’s skill, the only method we have to attack monsters from range, at least until we get a gun. But unless Atlas and I have our ears stuffed, it hurts us as much as it does other monsters. We need some way to communicate without needing to hear. At least some simple hand signs.”

I can’t believe I didn’t think of that myself. “That’s a great idea. If we had to change our plans while attacking that troll monster, we would’ve had no way to communicate it at all. Any of you know sign language?”

They all shake their heads, and Pallas starts again. “I don’t think it needs to be as expressive as learning full sign language. Just a few signs would be good to start with, ways to say attack, wait, retreat -- stuff like that.”

“Good idea,” I respond. “I’m gonna go on watch, we haven’t checked the surroundings for a while -- you want to come up with something, and teach it to me later?” Pallas nods in response. “Sounds like a plan. Anybody have anything else?” I wait a few seconds. “No? Ok, I’m gonna go on watch now. Good talk.”

“Go team trollbane!” Melete yells out, putting her hand in the middle of our small circle and lifting it in the air as she shouts. She immediately starts muttering to herself, “No, that’s not right, way too cliche, it sounds like a name for a fantasy sword. Team monsterbane? No that’s even worse…”

We look at her askance, until I just shake my head and walk away.

I watch the surrounding fields, my gaze sweeping back and forth across the horizon. But while my eyes are directed outward, my focus is directed inward to my skill.

What even is my skill? How can it allow me to do something that, by all normal standards, should be completely impossible? Are there any limits to what it can do, what I’ll be able to do with it?

The potential fills me with excitement, but there’s also a bit of dread mixed in. More than the Numbers being reset, more than the appearance of the monsters, my skill is the biggest sign that things have changed. The Numbers and monsters maybe could be attributed to some freak chemical accident. Or aliens maybe. But my skill?

It presents a fundamental change to the way I understand the world to work. To the way physics works. And who knows what other changes are out there? If the skills we’ve acquired are anything to go by, getting them may be as simple as killing certain monsters. And by the laws of statistics, other people around the world have also acquired skills, powers that defy everything I’ve ever known.

That worries me. I’d like to believe in the fundamental goodness of humanity, but I once went to middle school. I know how mean and petty people can be -- especially when any power is on the line. I worry for what this world has become. I worry for what this world will become.

For now I push aside my worries and focus in on my skill. I feel the pressure, the weight that sits in my chest from keeping my skill active to save my leg. I make a small modification to the skin on the back of my hand, and I feel the way the pressure surges as the change is being made, the way it sinks back down after the change is completed.

I focus on the source of that pressure, on the way I activate my skill. I try to listen to what it needs -- why is it so hard to use my skill? Why has it gotten easier to use it as time goes on? Is it just practice that’s made it easier? What allows me to control the skill, to make the changes to my body?

And then, suddenly, I feel it. What Melete described. A hunger. The skill can be so much more, oh so much more powerful. In that instant, I can see the capabilities. A hundred scenarios flash through my head, monsters walking through various scenes. A dog monster walking through the woods. A troll monster shambling through a farmhouse. A strange dragon looking monster landing on top of a skyscraper, and so many more. Each depicts some being exploring its environment -- some human, some alien. I don’t see how this relates to my skill at all, until the scenes flash through my mind again, but this time I notice something more.

In each scenario, I am hidden. Disguised as a tree in the forest, knife in my hand blending into the bark. Impersonating a chair in the house, waiting for the troll monster to fall asleep. A stone gargoyle on the skyscraper. In every scenario, I am present, concealed. My skill can let me adapt to any situation, to catch any enemy unaware. All it needs is more wisdom.

With a lurch, the visions disappear and I jump in place. The visions lasted less than a second, but felt as if they contained mountains of information. But as I think through them, they start to fade, and all I can clearly recall is the unlimited potential of my skill, and the requirement to unlock that potential: wisdom.

I mull over my choices. My first instinct is to dump all of my free Numbers into wisdom, but I fight that impulse. The hunger, the way the skill felt -- it was almost as if the skill was a separate entity. And thinking back to Styx’s statement, I’m not sure how comfortable I am feeding that.

I look out across my surroundings and stand up to check the other side of the copse, thinking as I walk.

As much as I want to grow in power through my skill -- how strong will it actually be? Sure, it will allow me to hide from or sneak up on the troll monster. But what then? At the end of the day its offensive potential is severely limited.

What I really need is some way to strike back at the monsters. Right now my skill is a trap, but a trap that doesn’t have any teeth. I need a weapon, something better than my spade, or some other creative way to use my skill besides just hiding.

Hm, that’s a thought. From the feeling I got from my skill, its natural use is camouflage. But what if there is another way to modify my body to give myself the weapons I need? Something that will give me the offensive power to defeat monsters.

I ponder the implications and continue to circle our hideout.

S: 90

D:80

W: 203

I: 43

C: 54

165

Skills: Adjust:Self