I could feel the abilities I had sacrificed, not gone, but used as the core and scaffolding of this new crystal sphere. The sphere grew and contracted, always changing, for at its core was the mutability granted by Reactive Adaptability. I could feel the other skills as well: Eldritch Manipulation, Reactive Learning, Analyze, and finally Dark Companion. They were not gone, but nor could I directly access them.

They had been shattered, reconstructed, and cast into new forms. The crystal sphere that made up my class hummed with power and potential, it would strengthen and grow as I did. The skills and feats it contained, those not part of the class itself, swam loosely within the sphere. No longer were they so tightly bound as to be almost indistinguishable from one another. I could sense that if I continued to learn new skills I would eventually reach a limit, as my class could only contain so much. I was nowhere near this point, however. A problem for another day.

During the battle I had gained skill levels at an incredible rate, even picking up new ones. Something about mortal danger, or perhaps the saturation of energy in the air, caused skills to level in actual combat far easier than they did during training. My skill with a sword, pain resistance, arcane shield, physical fitness, dodge, and arcane missile had all leveled once during the battle. Even more impressive were the two new skills I had gained, shield defense and combat proficiency – each already at the third level.

These gains were paltry compared to the gains from my class, even if the FP did make me salivate slightly. The true gains came in the form of a new category – Class Features. In return for the three feats and two skills I had sacrificed I had received four new abilities in return, a net loss of one. After reading the class description, however, I realized that it really hadn’t been a loss at all. Each class feature was far more powerful than what I had given up, the only thing I really mourned were the life saving abilities of Reactive Adaptability.

My Willpower and Perception had both been increased by five and would continue to increase by one per level. Almost as useful was the increase of five to all resistances, if it could save me injury in the future it was welcome.

I could still hear the battle raging around me. Categorizing my abilities would have to wait till my friends were safe. I was more powerful than before the battle but gaining a class had done nothing to heal my shattered ankle. Even my newly improved pain resistance wouldn’t help, as the leg was completely unable to support my weight.

The first of my new class features gave me the solution to this problem, it couldn’t heal the ankle, but it could bind it and reinforce it enough to function. I wouldn’t be graceful, but I could walk. I glanced at the description one more time before deciding what to do.

Eldritch Mimicry (0/15) Ⓐ- The energy of the Old Ones is now yours to command, no longer does it struggle at your touch. It dances in delight as it bends to your whims, taking on any shape that you can imagine – but only for as long as you can hold a clear picture of that form in your mind. This ability can mimic weapons, armor, and even the spells and forms of your allies and enemies. Anything created by this method will be a shadowy illusion of the truth. These shadowy illusions are half as strong as the original (50%) plus an additional 2% per skill level.

It was what eldritch manipulation could have been if taken to its ultimate conclusion. Theoretically, it could copy anything even if the copy wasn’t as strong as the original. I would need practice to fully bring this ability into my fighting style, but for now it was exactly what I needed to support my injured leg.

I found it difficult to create and focus on a unique design, so instead I conjured an image from my memory – a memory that was almost perfect due to my investments in intelligence. Thin streams of energy conjured around my foot and shins, quickly weaving around them to create the shadowy outline of a cast. In shape it was an exact replica of the plaster cast I had had as a child when I had broken my leg at summer camp, just a cast sized for an adult and made of shifting black threads of interwoven energy.

I stood slowly, still shaking from the pain and from muscles weakened from fatigue. My legs buckled for a moment and I rolled from the car, my back striking the hard pavement as my limbs spread out around me. As I opened my eyes to look up I made eye contact with Rachel, she had stopped singing and was panting as she bent over to hold her knees. Her face was flush and covered in sweat and running mascara.

Her eyes were opened wide, and her mouth was bent into a tight smile even through her gasping breath. It occurred to me that she must have seen my fall, so I quickly turned away in embarrassment.

Her song had saved me, perhaps even saved my soul, or whatever passed for one. It had given strength to the others holding the bridge, prolonging all of our lives. Even with the ridiculous physical stats most of the defenders likely had they would tire eventually, especially without Rachel’s singing infusing vigor and determination into them with each passing second.

With Rachel exhausted I felt that it was now on my shoulders to do something. It was possible that Tiller or Catayla would have a solution, but I needed to spread my new wings. Metaphorically anyway. I wanted this battle in a way I didn’t fully understand. I needed it in the same way that I needed air to breathe.

I slowly pulled myself back up to my feet and began carefully shuffling towards the barricade. Each step was agony, like molten nails being driving into the marrow of my bones, but my cast was sufficient to support my weight. Only a few minutes prior I had casually leaped to the top of the barricade, but here I was forced to gradually climb - my legs and arms shaking as they slowly reached out for purchase.

It was Rachel who reached out offering her hand, pulling me up the last few feet. She wrapped an arm around my waist, helping to support me. “Thank you,” my whisper went unheard, swallowed by the howls and clamor of battle.

To my right stood Tiller, sparing only a casual glance and a nod in my direction before turning his attention – and revolver – back to the battle. Looking up I made out the form of Catayla lying prone on a support beam above the bridge, casually raining bullets upon the endless attacking masses. Her shots rang out in a rapid constant beat, never missing or failing to kill their target.

Beneath me spread out an army. They had pushed through the other barricades, shoving aside cars and boulders. The stone golem could no longer be seen, just a pile of concrete and rebar stood as a testament to its demise. The man with the fire axe, the one who had pulled me from the giant ants, had retreated to the top of the barricade- still cutting down monsters before they could reach us.

It would be minutes before the defenders were overrun, perhaps sooner. I quickly reached out to the eldritch energy swarming above the battlefield. It leaped at my touch, eager to be shaped and molding into forms of murder. Despite the seemingly limitless shapes the energy could take, I had to be able to understand and clearly visualize what I wanted to create.

Complex machinery was out, as was anything I couldn’t clearly imagine and hold in my mind. Things from my memory were better, as my intelligence stat would help me to visualize them. There was also a limit to the amount of energy I could command at once, and I imagined that there would be some mental fatigue as well.

I searched through my memory for a form that was both simple and effective, something that I could form quickly and would be easy to maintain. My mind quickly switched to memories of the old Civil War forts my father used to love bringing me to. Cannons were too complex, and I doubted I could make something like gunpowder – but after I dismissed that idea I remembered the old fortifications my father had helped construct for a Civil War reenactment.

Simple wooden palisades, made from sharpened logs lashed together with rope. I knew I could do something similar, it would be impossible to dig a trench, but I could anchor the wall of sharpened posts into the concrete and steel of the bridge itself.

I willed the construction into existence forcing the image onto the thick eldritch energy permeating the battlefield. Thick, sharp logs made of black misty energy grew up in front of the barricade like wild brambleberry. Posts three to four meters long pointed upwards, angled toward the horde of monsters. It wouldn’t completely stop them, but it would slow them down and buy the group of defenders time.

I kept the image in my mind, focusing on the memories it was based on. I could feel a mental drain, but I could handle it. I could still form simple weapons, but it would be difficult to create anything as complex as a spell or further construction. I regretted for a moment that I hadn’t re-created the stone golem. With some experimentation I was sure it would be possible.

I began to rain down javelins made of the black and crimson eldritch energy. Each projectile would quickly be dissolved into smoke as it impaled its target, freeing my mind to concentrate on creating more spears. It was effective, but slow. It was relieving some of the pressure on the defenders, but it was not a permanent solution. I needed something bigger, something that could affect the entire horde at once.

Of my new Class Features, one stood out as being able to do so, but it was risky. I was hesitant to use such an unpredictable ability without first testing it in a more controlled environment. If I waited, however, I might not ever get that chance.

The most mysterious of my new Class Features seemed to be a double-edged sword, just as likely to cut at me and my allies as it was to hinder my enemies.

Eye of Madness (0/10) Ⓛ- You have seen the terrifying truth of those that wait in the void. Your connection to the source of this maddening presence allows you to tear back the fabric of reality and see the hidden, terrifying truths that lie beneath. Overuse will burn this terror into your mind, risking your sanity – skill level and willpower will reduce this risk.

Alternate use: You can create an aura around yourself that shares this truth with your enemies, filling their minds with terror and possibly causing them to go berserk. You must confront the truth you share, but your allies will be spared – save those for whom you hold hidden malice.

Using the Class Feature’s ability to see the truth seemed dangerous, as an entire army of eldritch abominations was likely to overburden my mind, and my low skill level and willpower meant I risked permanent madness. I gave that a hard pass, but the alternate use had some potential.

It would likely take me out of the fight, but it would also reduce the ability of the monsters to defend themselves and if they started going berserk and attacking their allies? Well, all the better.

I closed my eyes, and slowly released madness around me in a tight vortex of swirling energy that invaded the minds of all it touched.