I snapped back to my body after the memory ended, once more seeing the mural that had been provided with context. And what a context it was!

The ancient civilization, Asphons, as they came to call themselves, had been laid to ruin by themselves. The people that had been transformed to look like monsters suddenly turned into actual monsters for seemingly no reason, razing their cities to the ground and killing everyone that hadn’t turned. Almost like a zombie apocalypse.

Well, it did seem like they turned into monsters for no reason, but that last bit of the memory lead me to believe that somebody else had intervened. Maybe some sort of cult that believed the system to be a sort of god or something. “As the system wills it,” is what they said. I couldn’t help but wonder whether they were just nutjobs or if the system gave them some sort of fucked up quest to destroy an entire civilization.

It was a crazy story to witness, but of all the things I could draw from having seen it, the chief concern was whether I could also turn… feral. I was in the same boat as the Asphons had been, a human turned into a monster. Could I just turn into an actual monster at any point?

The memory suggested that there was an outside force involved in turning them into actual monsters, but who’s to say that there wasn’t somebody out there that could do it to me? The prospect of losing myself to pure instinct and going wild sent shivers down my nonexistent spine. Was there something I could do to prevent that?

Then again… I was currently a voidling, and as far as I could tell, voidlings were a sane bunch. Eldritch beings, and some of them huge assholes, sure, but sane and intelligent by nature. Then again, so had the Asphons been.

I was running circles around my argument so I shoved it aside, trying to not think too hard about it. At the end of the day, there was little I could do to stop something I had no idea about how it worked. It seemed to be a mental thing, so maybe it would be enough if I upgraded my mental faculties and resistance.

I took another look at the mural, paying my respects to the fallen civilization before exiting the building. It was currently nighttime outside and I wondered what I should do next. I still needed to get my attributes up to snuff, so fighting stuff was at the top of the list. Yet, as I looked at the fake moon in the fake sky, a sudden bout of tiredness hit me. No point in rushing things, so I might as well take a nap.

Also, a drink sounded pretty nice right about now.

I opened the door to the bar in the void, having carefully made my way over; this time without incident. The bar was utterly packed today, black flesh, tentacles, eyes, and other grotesque limbs were filling the usually colorful space. I just stood at the entrance for a few seconds, wondering if there was some sort of event today before deciding that I wouldn’t find out by just staring at the mass of voidling.

I slowly made my way to the bar, my smaller size proving a boon to navigate the boisterous patrons. The chatter was incredibly loud as everybody tried to talk over each other while music was trying to drown out any attempt at communication. The sudden wall of sound was almost too much for me since I’d gotten so used to the constant silence due to having no ears.

I eventually managed to cross the floor and stood in front of the bar, where Tim was being crowded by thirsty guests. The mushroom-like voidling was cool as a cucumber though, his many tentacles working in tandem with his many eyes in order to mix and serve drinks at an incredible pace. I managed to snag a recently vacated barstool as a rotund voidling left with what must have been at least twenty drinks clutched in his many appendages.

I settled in, now that there was no need to dodge the larger guests constantly, and just watched Tim work his magic for a while. The tentacles emerging from an undisclosed location on his back were a flurry as they grabbed bottles, chopped fruits, crushed ice, shook the shakers, cleaned glasses, and filled them to the brim with increasingly colorful drinks. It was a rather mesmerizing sight, to be honest.

Eventually, things calmed down a bit as everybody had their drinks and retreated deeper into the bar to make merry with their friends.

“Busy night?” I asked as Tim approached me, his tentacles cleaning up a bit while he did so.

“The concept of day and night doesn’t exactly exist in the void, but yes, you could say so,” Tim informed me with a friendly chuckle. “What can I get you?”

“Something that isn’t too expensive please!” I ordered, trying my best to contort my mouth into something resembling a smile.

“Still recovering from losing your attribute points?” Tim said, putting a drink in front of me.

I just saw him pour something straight from a bottle, no fancy stuff involved. As soon as the glass hit the counter, the now familiar transaction window popped up, demanding three points to be paid. I quickly dumped three strength points, the attribute mostly lost on my spellcasting-focused build.

“Sadly yes,” I lamented while taking a sip. Tasteless, like always. Curse my tastebud-less mouth. “I think I just saw you earn more attribute points than I have in total, several times over.”

“Being a bartender does have its… advantages,” Tim admitted. I couldn’t see him smile, but I’m sure wherever his mouth was, it would be smiling.

“I know you said that you have a shit ton of attribute points, but now I believe it,” I said, wondering just how stupidly high his attributes were. “I can’t wait to unlock that transaction skill, it seems useful.”

“If I remember right the unlock criteria are something like trading at least 100 attribute points and completing ten separate transactions,” Tim said, clearly trying to dredge up the old memory. “You already got the points traded, so you just need to come and buy a few more drinks until you get it.”

“Nice, although, I suppose I won’t have anybody to trade with or anything to trade for, really.”

“Still, it’s nice to have it right?” Tim winked at me with about thirty eyes. “Who knows, maybe you’ll be able to use it for something, and if not, I know the travelers usually put a lot of value on one of their own with the skill.”

“They do?”

“Sure, and let’s leave it at that. The system doesn’t like it when outsiders reveal the secrets of its precious travelers,” Tim said ominously, distracted by another patron waving him over. “Hold on a second, I’ll be back.”

Tim left to serve his customers, leaving me to stew on what he just said. The system didn’t like outsiders to reveal stuff about its travelers? Were the travelers somehow working for the system? I had no clue since all I’d been doing was fighting monsters, not interacting with any other sapients aside from Tim.

I vaguely remembered something called “the administration” popping up once or twice in the system messages. That combined with the memory I’d just seen was painting an odd picture. Were travelers in the direct employ of the system? If so, what use did the system get from whatever it was telling me to do?

I took another sip from my drink, deciding to do some people-watching until Tim came back. No point in thinking about stuff I had no way to figure out. If I survived long enough, I’d probably find out either way.

I let my eyes wander over the gathered voidlings, for the first time actually paying attention to how they looked, aside from the fact that they were tentacled messes. The prevalent flesh color was black, although there were some splotches of color here and there, while some of them were leaning more towards grey. Specifically, flesh, since I was reasonably certain that almost all of them didn’t have skin, including myself.

All kinds of shapes were present, round voidlings, snake-like voidlings, amorphous mass voidlings, I even saw a square voidling. I was briefly distracted by a tiny, tentacled eye flitting around a voidling that looked suspiciously like Jabba The Hutt, and briefly wondered whether the eyeball was a voidling, or some sort of detached ocular organ transmitting what it saw back to its owner.

If I didn’t pay attention to the fact that the bar was filled with eldritch abominations, they were surprisingly similar to humans. Drinking, joking, singing, and laughing with each other. A fun little get-together between friends. Just like the bars were back on Earth.

“So, any cool plans to regain your former strength?” Tim suddenly said from behind me.

“Not exactly.” I pointed my eye-stalks backward to look at him. “Not much I can do really, other than to go on a killing spree. It’ll take time, but I’ll get there.”

“Leveling up your only way of getting attributes?”

“Nah, I got a nifty skill helping me out, but as I said, it’ll take time,” I took another gulp of my drink. “It’s not helping that I’ve been severely weakened since it makes combat harder than it was before, slowing me down.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be able to do it,” Tim said jovially. “You’re a voidling now, and that’s something to be proud of. Voidlings are strong, and I believe that you’ll make it through easily.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I emptied my drink. “I plan to go wild once I wake up.”

“Just make sure to bring some of these points back here, I got some more expensive drinks that will rock your socks off, and, dare I say might even help you in your quest.”

“Will do,” I chuckled. “Will do.”