Out of all of the siblings, Charisma was the most praised. Everyone loved her, for speaking with her was like speaking with perfection. She was attractive, attentive, and considerate. Each other sibling had their own faults, but no one could find a single flaw with Charisma. She never got angry, never was impatient, never was rude.

Charisma made it her mission to please everyone she interacted with. She had more friends than any of her siblings, and in her eyes that made her the most accomplished. She would regularly meet with kings and queens for afternoon tea, knights and businessmen for dinner.

And yet the more people who loved her, the less satisfied Charisma became. She felt lonely, but couldn’t understand why -- after all, she had more friends than anyone. In confusion, she asked her sister Wisdom for advice.

“When was the last time you were in an argument? When were you last angry with someone?” Wisdom asked.

“Never!’ Charisma replied. “I couldn’t be angry with my friends!”

“That is your problem.” Wisdom said.

Charisma pondered Wisdom’s advice, and eventually tried to follow it -- but found it difficult to be angry at any of those she called her friends, for she cared not what they did. And Charisma came to a conclusion: there can be no friendship without conflict. For it is easy to be attractive to those you care nothing for. Only with true friends can you be truly angry.

- Excerpt from “Fables of the Five Siblings”

“What did you see?” I ask Pallas.

“I’m not entirely sure. I don’t know if it even knows we’re here, but it’s heading this way.”

I nod in response, pushing the wheelbarrow of supplies into a bush where they’ll hopefully be safe and hidden.

The others grab their own weapons and do the same with the rest of their supplies. When we’d discussed our plan of action if monsters were to attack our camp, we considered keeping the supplies from the backpacks with us in case we needed to run. Ultimately we discarded the idea. As bad as it would be to have to flee without our supplies, getting killed because we tried to fight while carrying a heavy backpack would be worse.

As we get into our formation and prepare to step out of the trees, I hear Sam speak.

“Would you be willing to let me use my skill to assist?”

“How so?” I ask suspiciously. I don’t discount the possibility that the ‘monsters’ Pallas saw are entirely the product of Sam’s illusion ability, especially considering the timing of their arrival with its speech. If it offers to somehow use its skill to defeat or scare off the monsters completely by itself, I’m prepared to attack Sam instead.

“Depending on what is attacking, I may be able to hide your presence.” Sam offers.

After a moment of consideration, I nod. “Fine, do it. But we better not be affected.”

“Do not worry, you will see the world exactly as it is.” It says.

“We better.” I hear Melete mumble under her breath, and then everything goes silent as I activate my skill and have the skin grow over my ears. Pallas puts in his own earplugs as we walk out of the trees. Part of me worries that Sam may be able to deduce mine and Styx’s skills by our ability to ignore Melete’s skill. A larger part of me doesn’t care. I prepare to fight.

Pallas quickly points to the east, the direction we came from, as we see a plume of dust rising in the distance. Whatever it is, it isn’t moving fast, but after waiting a few seconds it’s clear it’s moving in our direction.

Time passes slowly as we wait. I look back at my companions. Each of their faces is hard, with their fingers clenched around their respective weapons. Styx offers me a small smile before her attention focuses back to the east. When Pallas raises his arm to point, I look up as well.

Finally, we can see what is approaching. Among the grass and dirt, there is a flash of grey rising a foot or two above the ground before disappearing again. The earth around where it disappears rumbles until the patch of grey reappears, moving another few feet on the surface before diving. This repeats every five seconds, getting another ten feet closer to us with each iteration.

“Earth pit.” I hear Sam’s voice echo in my ears from behind us. How can I still hear it so clearly? “Do not make any noise, and try not to move. Its primary sense is through sound and vibrations in the earth. I can feed it false signals with my illusions, but I cannot block out the real signals entirely.”

I look back to where I presume Sam is hiding. I hope it can see me and understand my unspoken question. “I am not actually speaking. My voice is just my ability, projected directly to your minds.” I hear Sam’s voice say. That makes sense, I guess. So much for its promise to not affect us with its skill.

I have no time to be angry though, as the ‘earth pit’ is almost upon us. Now that it’s closer, I can make out its form: it looks like an extremely large earthworm, over five feet long and at least two feet in diameter. It is diving into and out of the ground like a dolphin swimming in the ocean. But compared to a dolphin it doesn’t look graceful in the slightest. Its motions appear clumsy and uncoordinated. I hope they stay that way once we enter battle.

It is heading right towards our group, and I fight the instinct to start running. Sam said not to move, and I want to trust it. The worm gets closer and I prepare my machete. Thirty feet. Twenty feet. Ten.

Just as I’m about to ignore Sam’s advice and jump to the side, the worm veers to the right and dives back under the ground. I can track the worm’s movement by the displaced dirt above its body.

It moves just to the right of our group, less than a foot away from Styx, when there’s a pause. Every other time it’s dived beneath the ground it’s come back up within a second or two, but ten seconds pass without any sign of it showing itself. I look around, trying to be prepared for anything.

Suddenly, it resurfaces. Unlike its earlier diving movement, slow and ungainly, it bursts directly upward with speed and ferocity, shooting into the air as a mouth on its front opens, teeth flashing in a circle.

“Attack now.” Sam’s voice echos, and I only hesitate a second before complying. The worm is whipping its head, or whatever the front of its body is called, around in circles, as if confused to find no prey at that location. Feeling no mercy, I take a single step towards the worm and swing my machete into its side.

My swing digs in about an inch before stopping. I’m surprised by how easily I’m able to injure it -- compared to the trolls this thing’s skin breaks like toilet paper.

Styx doesn’t even have to move to strike at the monster, and she chooses to stab instead of swing with her lighter knife. The blade travels deep, almost completely to the handle. Styx starts to pull the knife out of the creature’s body, but the worm convulses, attempting to wrap its body around Styx’s arm. Styx doesn’t hesitate to release the knife and back away, barely escaping with her fingers before they’re crushed in a loop of the worm’s body.

The worm is convulsing crazily, swinging its head wildly back and forth in its search for an enemy. Melete attempts to dart in with her short knives, but the worm is moving too quickly and she can only score shallow cuts on its body before she is knocked away. Taking a step back, she opens her mouth and her skill pours forth. The wriggles of the worm increase, and it attempts to move towards Melete. Undeterred, Melete slowly steps backward, continuing her singing. With most of its body above ground, its reach doesn’t extend beyond five feet.

Finally Pallas approaches the worm. He holds the heavy axe with two hands, waiting. There’s a slight pause in the worm’s thrashing where part of its body holds still, and he swings.

I’m a city boy. I’ve lived all my life in the suburbs, but I’ve also had the chance to use tools -- mostly when visiting my Uncle. Chopping wood at his farm was a mixed experience. There was something immensely satisfying when the log eventually split, but I was always self-conscious as I swung the axe. Watching my uncle, I could see the power in each swing, the way his entire body worked together with one purpose: to chop the wood. I worried my swings more resembled those of my eight-year-old cousin: weak, letting gravity do most of the work.

Pallas swings the axe like my uncle.

With a thunk, it embeds into the side of the worm. The convulsions increase, but before it has a chance to wrap itself around the axe handle Pallas rips it free, gouging out a chunk of flesh in the process. Dark purple ooze drips out of the gaping wound.

I step forward and swing my machete again. With how fast and unpredictable the worm is moving I’m afraid to get too close, so only the tip of the machete makes contact, and even then just barely. But I swing again. And again. And again.

Each time the worm is wounded, even if the wounds are minor. Lines of purple drip down the side of its body. Melete continues to sing, occasionally dancing forward and scoring her own cuts, but her strikes do even less damage than mine. Styx has pulled out a smaller backup knife from somewhere and uses the same darting tactic as Melete.

Pallas swings his axe mightily. With how much the worm is flailing, only some of his hits make contact, but those that do connect leave deep gashes. His swings come much less frequently than the rest of ours.

Eventually, the worm attempts to flee. It tries to retreat back into the hole it emerged from but stops when the handle of Styx’s knife catches against the ground. Meanwhile, we continue to stab and slash and sing. It attempts to crawl away above the ground, but it’s escape is slow and clumsy. We continue to stab and slash and sing. Finally, it swings its head blindly in circles around it, attempting to catch at least one of its attackers in its teeth before its inevitable doom. We step back, and when it tires, we continue to stab and slash and sing.

I feel a moment of pity watching the worm wriggling on the ground, unable to flee or seek shelter. But then my eyes focus on its teeth, and I continue the assault. After what seems like an eternity, I feel the rush of my Numbers increasing and step back. The worm is still convulsing on the ground, but when Melete goes to stab it again I grab her arm and pull her back.

“It’s dead.” I say, showing her my palm and the non-zero Number.

It seems to take her a second to process my words, but eventually she stops struggling to attack. She had stopped singing a minute earlier once it became clear the monster wasn’t going to be able to escape. As she looks at me, she makes a face.

“Ew, only twenty-seven?” She looks at her own hand. “Twenty-one?! I knew this apocalypse hates me…”

I sigh. That reminds me of all the questions we still need to ask of Sam. Speaking of, where did it get to…?

“Sam?” I yell, getting rid of the skin covering my ears. As I look for it, I sweep the horizon with my eyes, checking for signs of any other approaching monsters.

It takes a minute and a few more calls of its name before it finally responds.

“Sorry. The skill Melete possesses is quite formidable. I retreated to a safe distance, although I still used my illusions to confuse the earth pit. You were able to defeat it without issue?”

Huh, Sam had to run away just from Melete’s skill? Is it that powerful? Assuming it’s telling the truth, we’ll need to keep that in mind.

“Yeah, we killed it, no problem.” Melete says. She seems proud of her skill’s contribution.

I reflect on the fight. This has been by far the easiest battle we’ve had, despite the size of the worm. I’m barely even winded and there’s no new injuries among my friends I can see. Are we just that much more powerful than we were before?

“How much did you do?” I ask the Alatir.

“The earth pit primarily senses prey through vibrations. As it approached, I masked your own and created a false trail next to you. Once you started attacking it, I was unable to mask your signals, so I simply created as many false signals as possible to keep it confused.”

So it was essentially fighting blind. Still, for gaining over twenty Numbers each, the fight was remarkably easy. “Is this one of those ‘community’ monsters? Do we need to worry about more of them showing up?” I ask.

“No, the earth pit is individualistic.” Sam responds. “Typically it is just an ambush predator, waiting for prey to walk above it. It likely pursued us due to the recency of the inclusion. All creatures are more aggressive in a new inclusion, as it is the best time to quickly gain Numbers.”

I nod. I can see how much more dangerous the ‘earth pit’ would have been had it caught us unaware, but chasing us after showing itself above-ground was simply suicide.

I turn to Pallas. “Help me drag this thing away from camp a little ways. We don’t want to attract predators or other monsters.”

Pallas nods and grabs the tail end, lifting it with a grunt. I grimace and move to the side with the mouth, gingerly grabbing it in places least stained by the purple ichor. The skin is cool to the touch and slightly slippery, as there seems to be a mucus-y coating that makes it difficult to hold on to.

“That likely isn’t necessary. Many of the new creatures added to your world do not consume flesh for the purpose of nourishment, and so will not be attracted to the smell of decay.” I hear Sam say behind us.

I ignore Sam as I struggle to lift my end. I’m starting to get the impression that Sam is a bit of an erudite. Now that it is traveling with us, it certainly seems willing to share its knowledge regardless of how relevant to our current situation it may be. In this case, I choose to ignore the ‘knowledge.’ We’ve seen at least one other monster that eats meat, and I’m still not confident in our ability to defeat a troll in a fair fight.

Eventually, it takes all four of us to move the worm a hundred yards further away from our camp, Pallas carrying the tail and Melete, Styx, and I lifting the head. I’d like to say that our section is heavier, but from the way Pallas is grunting I’m not sure it’s true.

Halfway to our destination, a strange smelling brown goop starts to come from Pallas’ end. He walks noticeably faster for the last fifty yards, and I can’t contain my smile. The rows of teeth inches from my hand no longer seem like such an inconvenience.

Later that night, I sit on watch at the edge of our camp talking with Sam. It definitely earned some points from its assistance with the monster, but it still has a long way to go before I’m ready to trust it completely. For now, I make sure to regularly check on my surroundings, Sam, and my sleeping friends.

I had allocated my free Numbers an hour earlier, bringing intelligence up to a hundred, charisma up to seventy, and adding the rest into wisdom. I know there’s no logical reason behind it, but there’s something immensely satisfying about seeing all of the round Numbers on my arm.

I double-check to make sure my arm is still covered from Sam’s eyes by my sleeve. Even under the sleeve, I’m using my skill to show faked Numbers, each sitting at around a hundred. I want to continue keeping Sam as ignorant as possible about my level of strength.

“How do the Alatir typically kill things? No offense, but you don’t seem very physically capable compared to some of the other creatures we’ve faced.” I ask.

“You are correct.” Sam responds. “Our physical Numbers typically are lower than most others. But with our illusions, it is trivial to entrap creatures. With enough Alatir, even the mightiest minds may be overwhelmed, and once the mind is defeated the body will follow.” There is a pause. “Of course, some creatures are more difficult than others. I have more trouble creating illusions of foreign senses such as those of the earth pit, compared to sight or hearing. And some creatures have minds resistant to outside influence. Those are creatures we simply avoid.” I nod, and it continues. “How did humans defeat other creatures from your planet?”

I hesitate. This is the second time Sam has asked a question like this. “I honestly don’t know how to answer that.” I reply. “It’s not something I’ve ever worried about. The only ‘creature’ I’ve ever battled before the inclusion was my neighbor’s cat.”

“You seem to have learned quickly. As weak as you started, you are doing well for yourselves now.”

“You learn quickly when the only other option is dying.” I say. My mind quickly flashes through the faces of my other classmates. How many of them are still alive? I speak again, barely above a whisper. “...and I wouldn’t call it ‘well.’”

“Based on your combat with the earth pit, I am very impressed with humanity’s performance.” Sam says.

I shake my head. Performance. We’re fighting for our lives, and Sam is grading us like some school teacher. It starts to speak again, but I cut it off. “Let’s just sit in silence for a bit.

And so we do.

The next day dawns warm with clear skies. It seems like it will be even hotter today than yesterday -- with any luck, we’ll be able to make it to the town by lunch before it gets too hot. For better or for worse.

It takes less than an hour for us to be entirely packed up and ready for the road. After a few days of traveling, we have our packing down to a science. I spend my time asking Sam a few more questions as we wait for the girls to return from the bathroom.

Right now, it’s educating me on the names and properties of the monsters we’ve already faced. Most of it is knowledge I could have surmised by myself, but some of the information is interesting. Apparently the flock of bird monsters we encountered is a bit of an aberration, one of the few monsters that couldn’t easily be qualified as ‘individualistic’ or ‘cooperative.’ Despite many of the birds clearly working in unison, they have a sort of ‘hive-mind’ that leads some to think, Sam included, that they are actually just many parts of a single beast.

“...and since you will see different flocks killing each other, they are individualistic. It is no different from each of my legs -- they work together, but having legs does not make me cooperative. They are simply different parts of the same single organism.”

“Do they only have one set of Numbers between the entire flock then? Do you have to kill every single bird to gain the Numbers?” I ask.

Sam seems slightly hesitant, waiting a moment before it begins speaking. Small though they may be, I think I’m starting to pick up on a few of its tics. “I am not sure.” I look at it skeptically. “The flocks are one of the more cautious of creatures to rule their world. I do not know of anyone who has successfully killed part of a flock.”

Wow, that’s surprising. The birds didn’t look that difficult to kill, and you would only have to kill one to know if your Numbers went up…

My train of thought is interrupted by Styx and Melete returning to our camp. “Ready to go?” Styx asks, winking at me. I raise my eyebrows in response as my heart beats in my chest.

“Ye--Yep.” I say, voice cracking. As my face turns red, I pick up the wheelbarrow and start down the road.

Stupid code.

S: 100

D:100

W: 319 (+11)

I: 100 (+3)

C: 70 (+13)

0

Skills: Adjust:Self