...

[Status]

Name: John

Attributes

Class: None – Skills: 2/6

Titles:

Perks:

Strength:

15

-

Lesser Analysis

Dexterity:

12

Archery 5

Constitution:

14

Resist Poison 7

Intelligence:

10

-

Wisdom:

10 [+2]

-

Wise man of the Mountains

Charisma:

10 [+5]

-

Ambitious [ACTIVE]

Free:

4 - - -

It had taken me some time to calm down. Shouting obscenities doesn’t help anyone, and I knew I was on borrowed time as it was. So I had to start trying to be productive about my circumstances.

The secondary conditions were absolutely insane sounding, but the original task wasn’t.

I just had to survive.

Somehow.

Survival above all other things.

Even though my body was on a timer, and my medicine was magically "poofed" out of existence... I shook my head. It wasn’t over until it was over. And luckily enough, I had woken up near a road. Doing a quick circle around where I had first landed, and I could see it through the trees. Just a moment later, and I was faced with a decision.

Which way to go?

Both directions stretched out for as far as I could see. One headed towards a distant mountain range of jagged looking peaks. The other headed towards was looked like grasslands and forest. There were no signs. Nothing that could suggest the direction I needed to take, or even present a clue on where the cities I was supposedly defending would be located.

I checked my clothing, to be sure I hadn't missed some sort of map, but much to my dismay: there wasn't one. So, without any clear hint to choose one direction over the other, I picked the mountain’s direction. I felt a sense of familiarity after climbing one, and I figured that was as good a reason as any.

I started walking.

Marching really. Like a man marching to his death, I pressed on with my bow in hand. The clothing I’d awoken and the clatter of arrows on my hip, my only other companions.

I had little doubt: I was going to die.

It was a real effort to try and not to panic, honestly. I took to holding my breath, in an effort to slow my heart down whenever the anxiety kicked in a bit too hard. Stressing out about things I couldn't fix wasn't going to help me.

[Lesser Analysis] [COMMON CLOTHING] - [Comfortable, but provides little to no benefit in combat]

I’d taken to trying to distract myself any way I could as I walked.

[Lesser Analysis] [PLAIN SANDALS] - [Meant for daily travel, not much else] [Lesser Analysis] [CORD BELT] - [Woven from fiber, worth nothing] [Lesser Analysis] [UNIDENTIFIED LEAF] - [Leaf from an unfamiliar plant.]

None of this was turning out to be very helpful. I'd hoped there might be a trick to it, something that I could exploit about the perk, but in a way, [Lesser Analysis] seemed a lot like some lame version of Wikipedia. Looking at something, focusing on it for a little bit, and it gave me some basic info. Using the perk didn't seem to cost anything. I could use it as much as I cared to. It just didn't help me much.

In summary: Somewhat convenient, but not really good for anything I was supposed to accomplish on this floor. I doubted [Lesser Analysis] was going to kill demons, or whatever.

Still, it kept me occupied as I walked.

Things were grim.

I’d been living with my condition for a long time, and in some ways, that was good. If the only choice is between being sick, and being dead, I'd choose sick. But, having lived with it for as long as I had, I knew all the tricks. The secret techniques, if you will.

How to exercise, without killing myself. How to skip a meal, how to add a meal, and my personal favorite: How to eat pizza safely. Which, I will have you know, is surprisingly difficult for someone with my condition. I'd go so far as to say I was certain that many people who shared my problems would be jealous of my talent when it came to pizza.

Basically, I knew all the odd ways I could game the disease, and live it easier. It was old-hat for me.

And because of that, I knew I was in deep shit.

I had no medicine. No testing supplies. No real idea of what I was in for, except what I could take educated guesses at. The details were… iffy.

Without my bag and the testing kit supplies within it, I had to take guesses. I had planned to use the supplies packed in my bag to keep me reasonably informed and capable of safely treating myself for a few weeks. My hope had been to find a way to quickly proceed through the floors, and get back to a place where [Domicile] was active. If it worked the way I hoped, my house would be waiting, and hopefully it would be restocked. So, either I would find a way to get more insulin, or I would find some supernatural method to keep me healthy.

But, without the supplies I thought I'd be taking with me, I was in the dark. And as I continued my march of death, the unknowns were what really drove me crazy.

How bad was it?

Was I already done for, or did I still have a little more time? What was the number? How far into dangerous territory was I? It had been awhile now, and I wasn't feeling all that great. But maybe I was just playing games in my head, and psyching myself out.

All of these thoughts came with fear and anger.

It was so frustrating to have a fatal flaw like this. The very concept of having my life completely tied to medicine, was humiliating. No doctor I ever spoke with seemed to know the exact chain of events which lead to me being sick. All they could tell me, was that at the end of the day, my body didn’t work right. That was all there was to it. Left to its own devices, my body would surely poison itself and I would die.

Which, if I was not mistaken, was already happening.

Only a few hours into the march, and I was starting to feel downright terrible.

Name: John

Attributes

Class: None – Skills: 2/6

Titles:

Perks:

Strength:

15

-

Lesser Analysis

Dexterity:

12

Archery 5

Constitution:

14

Resist Poison 7

Intelligence:

10

-

Wisdom:

10 [+2]

-

Wise man of the Mountains

Charisma:

10 [+5]

-

Ambitious [ACTIVE]

Free:

4 - - -

I had four spare points leftover as my rewards from the first floor.

With those, I could probably make myself stronger, or smarter, or faster...

But no matter how strong, or smart, or fast I might become, I knew I wasn’t going to be capable of punching or thinking my way out of this. None of those were going to keep my body from getting sicker.

There was only one choice that made any sense.

[Constitution +1]

I focused, as the point added to the tally.

I really focused.

I felt... very little. Maybe it was my brain playing tricks on me, but I felt a little better. The familiar headrush I expected when Strength increased, didn't happen.

Constitution was a more subtle Attribute, perhaps?

I pushed another point into place.

[Constitution +1]

No, I definitely did feel better now.

It was doing something.

[Constitution +1]

I kept going.

[Constitution +1]

Name: John

Attributes

Class: None – Skills: 2/6

Titles:

Perks:

Strength:

15

-

Lesser Analysis

Dexterity:

12

Archery 5

Constitution:

18

Resist Poison 7

Intelligence:

10

-

Wisdom:

10 [+2]

-

Wise man of the Mountains

Charisma:

10 [+5]

-

Ambitious [ACTIVE]

The fog that had been settling over my thoughts, faded a bit. The discomfort that had been silently building up, basically everywhere, retreated.

It was working. Or, at least, it was working a little. I still didn't feel all that great, but I felt safe to assume I’d stalled the inevitable for a bit. Maybe that bought me a few hours, maybe a few days. I wasn't sure how much impact the Attribute was really going to have.

All I really knew, was that I hadn't changed anything.

I was still on the clock, and I was going to continue to get sicker and sicker the longer time went on.

Not for the first time since arriving on the second Floor, I started swearing again. It just pissed me off, and there was no one around to judge me for it. So I let it all out.

What a stupid way to die.

All this crazy stuff happening, and it was my body that was going to kill me. It just felt so trivial, so rigged. I continued spewing hot-air like an overheating vent, as I marched on.

In the modern-day world, thanks to mankind’s stubborn refusal to let nature push us around, scientists had figured out how to make my condition livable. This was all supported by decades of research, billions of dollars of investments, supply chains, medical professionals… But, there I was, walking down what might well be an endless road, looking up at two moons and one oddly colored sun, painfully aware that I was perhaps as far from a pharmacy as any mortal man can ever hope to be.

How long could I make it?

A few days, maybe?

If I didn’t eat anything and found some water soon, maybe I could limp along for a bit. Keep stalling, for as long as possible. Walking was probably the best thing I could be doing, considering. Light exercise burns calories, keeps insulin sensitivity up. For all I knew, there might still be a trace of the stuff still in my system to work with. If it was still there, I needed to make it as effective as possible.

Just as importantly though, walking was helping to give my mind something to do. I could let my thoughts wander a bit. I’d done so plenty of times, especially during those long hikes on the first floor, but back on Earth too. Years and years of hiking and camping. Letting the outside world’s trouble feel distant.

Until it was too dangerous to go outside any longer, of course.

I let my musing drift as to why the [Trial] existed.

Was it something divine? The whole ordeal on the first floor seemed impossibly supernatural, and the second floor seemed to be following suit. At the very least, human-levels of science and understanding couldn’t easily explain any of this.

Were gods involved?

I wasn’t very religious, but what else could do this sort of thing? Plus, if anyone could help me, it would be a god, right?

Either a god, or outrageously advanced technology that might as well have come from a god.

I'd take whatever help I could get.

There had to be a way I could survive.

Deep down I think I knew that I was just deceiving myself into holding onto hope.

The messages for this floor had mentioned cities, and for all I knew, the road I was on led to one of those. In a scenario where the impossible was possible, it wasn't as though it would be a complete longshot to think that one of these cities might have a doctor or healer who might be able to help.

It wasn’t impossible.

There was a small chance.

Very small.

Still, I decided it was still better than giving up. I would follow the road. I would get to a city. I would get to a doctor. I would find a way not to die.

Good plan?

No, it was a mess. Hardly a plan at all.

Good enough plan to go for it anyways?

Yes.

Gods or no, if the Trial thought I was going to die easy, it was wrong.

This was nothing.

I’d already been cheating death for years.