The city of High Elec is located in the stormy lowlands of the Thunder Plains housed within the steely walls of some long-forgotten superstructure. The Elec, the race of people who live there, have done so for an indeterminate amount of time. Their lives are painted on their hands, [Warrior], [Mage], [Smith], [Scout], married, divorced, disgraced. Each finger an aspect of their life, each symbol some meaning therein. They speak with their hands, one of the few Thinking Races to develop magical language.

That, however, is the least of the mystery behind these people. To start, the artificial mind that governs them.

- The Thinking Races, Colexpo Difn Level 44 [Lowland Explorer].

Jayke's first thought was to read up on the Gods. After having sparred with Hush and Hughanz they'd all gone their separate ways. Now, he was in the library letting his mana reservoir regenerate and resting his body. His [Traveler's Many-Pocketed Cloak] helped him catch his breath in the latter regard.

He was flipping through a thick text that had greeted him with a cough of dust once he had opened it. A book on deities and their domains. Occasionally, he would read a particularly interesting entry but many of the gods and goddesses mentioned oversaw overlapping domains. Books and knowledge, for example. One could say those were one in the same, barring fiction of course. There were also some repeats as if some gods shared responsibility.

Jayke was searching for one particular god though. The God of Lost Travelers, Keylos. These religious texts were apparently among the stores of knowledge open to the public. They tied into the history of the world and were consequently considered historical records - public knowledge. Halfway through the text, Jayke wasn't too confident he'd find him.

The temple his Personal Quest had originated from was a broken-down place of worship for Keylos. So he guessed. And now he was tasked with finding an enduring one?

Personal Quest: [Mysterious Arrival] (Epic)

Keylos, God of Lost Travelers, beckons those who hail from other worlds, realities, or planes. He is the patron deity of all lost travelers, acting as both guide and protector for those not knowing their way, or unfamiliar with their reality. As one who comes from Earth, seeking him out may answer questions, even those unasked. Follow the traveler's waystones and discover an enduring place of worship devoted to the God of Lost Travelers.

Reward: Unknown

Jayke sighed as he flipped another page. He was sure that-

"Keylos, God of Lost Travelers." He read in surprise. The entry had been on the very next page.

Could anyone have faulted him for picturing a human man? It was the default appearance his mind had conjured. In truth, Keylos was an indeterminate figure. The figure radiated light, the only points of dimness on the person was a wide-brimmed hat. He - as the System referred to the god - was a shining light amid a whirlwind of floating rocks. They weren't regular rocks either - magical. They glowed or shimmered, whoever had drawn the picture had an eye for detail and motion.

Jayke read:

Keylos, God of Lost Travelers. For those truly misplaced, he is their deity. The shining light of his divine presence is akin to a lighthouse, guiding the unsure souls of those truly lost. In his presence, understanding, calm, knowledge, acceptance.

The stones orbiting Keylos are what the legends call the Traveler's Waystones. Objects of myth said to lead those who need his guidance to him. To an onlooker native to Aez, it is said that these stones look like nothing but rocks. But, from one that hails from another reality, another world, another plane, or another dimension marooned on Aez, these stones appear anything but.

They say they hold directions to the last enduring Temple of Keylos, a place as lost as any place could possibly be. A lost traveler will know the stones. They speak their language.

Jayke absorbed the information. Were people from other realities and such considered regular occurrence? Somehow Jayke doubted that.

"Then that really must've been one of his temples. The ruins of one, at least." Then he paused, rubbing his chin. "That stone tablet that triggered my Personal Quest. It had English carved into it. Could it have been a traveler's waystone?"

It had looked like a regular stone to him. Nothing else. There were no forthcoming directions nor did it have a mythical appearance. Perhaps it was just an old plaque? It must've been just a regular stone then.

Jayke froze. That meant English had been around long enough for ruins to form around it. What did that mean, exactly? He frowned, that meant there were English-speaking people here in Aez long-lost in history? Could people have been transported here somehow? Before the pods were ever even in circulation?

Or did that mean there was some disparity in time? Could he have arrived in a vastly different period of time than anyone else who had taken the pods a year prior to him? He shuddered. He needed to find Keylos. Get this all sorted out. At this point, speculation was pointless. Nothing regarding his arrival here could be taken at face value, there were too many uncertainties.

He scanned through a number of other texts. There were only old myths and hints that reminded him that the traveler's waystones were magical. As if he couldn't have guessed that from floating stones. Finding Keylos, it seemed, would not be easy. Whether he was a Lost Traveler or not. From his readings, he did uncover one detail that was consistent.

One stone would lead to another, and eventually, one would reach the temple. The problem became finding the first one.

He sat back, crossed his arms, and looked out one of the windows of the library. There were floating motes of dust, present in just enough number to give the rays of sun form. He hummed quietly to himself.

Oz never thought his Personal Quest would ever lead him to a high-class gambling house. Everyone looked dangerous and whether that was the result of Level or Skill, Oz didn't think it really mattered.

He stared at Ercur who strode in like it was an open glade. Only instead of trees, there were velvet playing tables. Instead of doe-eyed little animals, large burly caven or sleazy-looking shadshin. Dwellers, for the most part. Instead of an open clearing and gentle chirping of birds, a crowded bustling floor and sudden silence as she burst through the door.

Oz watched everyone like a hawk and found hawks staring back. Ercur was smiling, the usual noise returning to the room. There were just as many people eyeing them suspiciously and with hostile intent as there were that greeted them with nonchalance. A handful, weirdly, seemed to brighten.

"Should we be here?" Oz asked her uncertainly. He was surprised to find a [Mage] or two among the players. They looked at him disdainfully and Oz returned confusion. [Hedge Mages] maybe? Their Class was obvious for a few reasons, magical foci at their hips for one.

"Nonsense, Oz. Fors, God of Happenstance wills it. A [Gambler] shouldn't be denied her right to gamble." She smiled.

Just as she spoke though, two men in refreshingly unfloppy hats appeared. [Bouncers] if Oz had to guess. He'd traveled enough to know many establishments hired some Class with a similar function. These two though seemed good at their job. There was a physical force pushing him back, and the two of them weren't even near him. Oz's expression widened at the physical push.

He didn't belong here. Gallal Undercut could wait. This place wasn't safe.

"Ain't no place for you twos." One spat, arms crossed. He was a dweller. Oz wasn't familiar with the particular race, but it was clear it was a large one. Upright, he was nearly half again as tall as Ercur. His eyes were beady, his head disproportionately small.

She stared up at him. "We're here to see Gallal Undercut."

"Undercut? You ain't have the coin to see em'. And he don't have the time for a couple of suckers."

The other [Bouncer] stood shoulder to shoulder with the first. He stared down at Oz. His mouth was full of crooked teeth and smelled of alcohol. "You both best turn around before we make you. Ain't no place for the poor. You twos look too good for this place anyhow." He emphasized the last word and-

He shoved Oz and, caught off-balance, Oz fell hard on his rear blinking. Oz narrowed his eyes, affronted, but chilled out immediately. The pain was temporary, he was acutely aware of all the eyes on him. Making a move was foolish, and admittedly, hopeless.

"Brutes. All we did was walk in." He winced, getting up warily. "Ercur, it's fine. We can try-"

The show of eager violence was enough to caution him.

Ercur, on the other hand, didn't take too kindly to it. "Oh boys, don't touch my friend again or you'll be regretting it."

"Or what little lady? You gonna flash us?" They laughed heartily, bellowing belly-laughs. "Get the fuck out of here. [Kick Out]."

Something shoved Oz towards the door. He leaned into it. There was literally nothing in front of him, and he was being pushed back towards the door. His eyes widened at the Skill. He stuck himself to the floor with a Sticky Slime and immediately halted.

"Ercur let's go. It's not worth-"

The green-haired fiery woman wasn't holding her ground. That would imply a force acted upon her. She was simply standing there looking up at the [Bouncers]. She hadn't even moved. Let alone budged. They were staring at her imposingly but by the second they were losing their composure, confused.

"Do you two treat everyone like this?" She asked them pointedly. A couple of people in the crowd were wide-eyed. "You can't [Kick Out] one of the owners, idiots. You two gonna tell me where Gallal is? Or am I firing you?"

They blinked.

"Fucking idiots." A man at the bar raised his voice exasperated. "That's Tychus, you fools!" He called towards them with a drink sloshing in his hand. "Long time no see little lady!" He raised the drink. Ercur grinned at him.

"Tychus? You're kidding." Someone else called out. "Her?"

"Tychus is a guy ain't he? High-roller, always traveling looking for bigger games? The same guy right?"

"Girl, retard." A hunched figure snickered. "They're one and the same. You'd know if yous was here a half year back. Made the same scene with the last pair of toughs."

The place burst into noise and Oz suddenly felt the force upon him dissipate. It disappeared and he was staring at Ercur. He was trying to process everything as Ercur stood there conversing. The entire topic of the house was her. She stole all the attention, even Oz's.

"Ercur Tychus, thank you very much. And I'm most definitely female. Where's Gallal?" She asked the [Bouncers] again.

They changed their tune quickly. Comically, Oz decided. Who was Ercur Tychus?

"Er, uh, sorry Miss Tychus. Had no idea. I think I can feel it now, your ownership of the place." He doffed his hat and the other one followed suit.

"He's in the back. One of the new high-roller tables. Every first day of the week. A lot of big names in Cloudsurf and Nubilum sitting there." The other [Bouncer] quickly changed attitude. Loyal, if anything. "Sorry Miss Tychus had no idea."

Before they even twitched to step in front of Oz. "He's with me."

Ercur strode through the place like it was an open glade. Oz followed her. Only this time, he remembered that dryads tended to belong in such glades. The sudden familiarity with which she maneuvered around the place was altogether explained. He remembered what she had said earlier, this was her library. Gambling to her was what slimes were to Oz.

"Been here a couple of times, huh?" Oz said after he caught up to her step. He dusted himself off as they walked. He'd just gotten his robes cleaned too.

"Always awkward letting your friends know you're rich." She laughed. "But I didn't buy the place if that's what you're wondering."

Oz looked at her as a thought struck him. Incredulous, he said, "You won it?"

A laugh erupted from her. "Half of it. Gallal still hates me for it but the guy isn't likely to forget the game we had."

As they walked past the bar the shadshin man who had called out Ercur's identity raised a glass to them. He gave a passing glance to Oz but shrugged then drowned his whiskers in another bottle.

Ercur walked through an open doorway and suddenly they were the center of attention in a small room of distinctly high-level individuals. Oz could feel the level difference here. Ercur was unfazed.

"Gallal. My friend and I have some business with you." She said without pause.

"Bah, who doesn't nowadays-" He looked up. "Tychus!?" He said wide-eyed but cheerful. He looked to Oz then her. "Girl, what are you doing standing there? Take a damn seat already! Your friend can play too."

She took one, right beside the oldest shadshin Oz had ever seen. He sat next to her and tried not to fidget under the acute attention he suddenly found himself in. How had he even gotten here? Before he even realized what was happening he was dealt in. He had no money to even-

Until a sack of just that landed in front of him. Courtesy of Ercur. His eye twitched at the amount laid in front of him. She looked at him. She talked to him, too quiet for anyone to hear. "There he is, your old man's friend. Don't worry, he'll be sure to want some drinks with me after the game. You'll have time to ask him then."

Oz's mouth worked silently before he just nodded. Too fixated with who was supposedly friends with The Great Slime Mage Supreme, Ozzeop Slim. Ercur smiled and checked her cards idly.

"Friends and enemies, this is Tychus. Co-owner of the Spider's Cradle. Little bitch took half ownership in a game of cantrip! Imagine that!"

"This young one?" The old whiskery shadshin beside Ercur asked. His voice was slow and cracked. "Ah, a young half-dryad. Rare to see your folk out of your trees."

"Rare to see yours outside of the ground." She returned with a smile.

"You're Tychus? This little brat?" Another dweller spoke. This one Oz recognized. An oreman or mineral man. His arms were silver and gold, the rest of him rock.

"Oh yeah. I've missed this constant condescension. Nothing like shoving it back in your face, glitter fingers." Ercur laughed sharply. The mineral man recoiled but Ercur mowed forward before he could retaliate with anything. "Come on! Let's play. I've been itching for a hand."

Gallal Undercut smiled. "She's as sharp as they come. Watch your cards. She's a [Gambler]."

Oz stared at the man. Gallal Undercut. The name by itself didn't lead Oz to any conclusions on race. It didn't matter to him really. Race as a detail only painted a picture for Oz.

He hadn't expected Gallal to be one of the Underways nomads. He was a sorrial. Oz was familiar with them because of a single detail about their culture. Deep in the Underways sorrials tended to take on the [Shepherd] Class. Of what, exactly? Well, Earth Slimes, Rock Slimes, or even the rare Metal Slime.

That might've been hint enough of what made the sorrial a possible friend of his father. That wasn't it though. It was a gut feeling. There was something else about him. Gallal was, as far as Oz could tell, a regular sorrial. He was rough-furred like most of their race. Digging claws retracted up his hand to reveal nimble fingers. A body as naturally sturdy as it was strong. He had a narrow snout and narrower eyes capable of seeing vast distances into the dark.

But... there was something else.

Oz observed him curiously as they played, trying not to think of the money he was throwing around.

Jayke stared at the vial in his hand and tried not to think of the small fortune he was sure it was worth when he drank it.

The viscous liquid slid down his throat rather easily. The taste was a cross between a sugary treat and medicine. It was a quick shot - the [Decoction of the Mammoth].

He sat in his chair - he was in his [Safehaven] - and waited.

He'd decided that what he assumed would be permanent benefits to his body would always outweigh the immediate benefits to his wallet. It was a risk considering how little he knew of the economy, but with his [Safehaven] and some training learning how to gather edibles from different environments, he'd soon be on his way to self-sustainability.

Soon a jolt of lightning shot across his body. From his stomach, flashes of intense sensation originated. He jerked in his seat, not entirely in pain and not entirely unpleasant. New. Weird.

His breath became heavier. Not in a bad way. It became solid. Solid in a way that was markedly different from the depth of breath that his [Traveler's Many-Pocketed Cloak] afforded. Then, the sensation in his body shifted and he felt hardier. His core felt healthier, stronger. As if every beat of his heart was doing twice the work. As if he could feel his pulse.

Jayke stared around and realized his vision was sharper. He stood up and found his legs smooth in the motion. He walked around and found everything simply a smoother process. Such things were hard to notice when you lived life in a previous norm. But, without a doubt, he felt healthy. Hardy.

"So this is the from the Mammoth Tree?" Jayke made a fist. Not stronger, but firmer. More vital.

Yes, that was it. "Vital." He said aloud. Alive.

He'd been keeping track of the state of his body. His enhanced memory when it came to snapshots of data helped immensely here. His entire body had undergone something truly profound. His [Lesser Data Sense] could barely make out anything on its own but Jayke's own intuition could track the changes even where his senses were blurred. The fact he was the subject of focus was only more beneficial.

He'd long gone over individual body parts. His hand, for example. The flesh, the muscles, the tendon, the bone. They'd all changed from what he previously had recorded. Not that he could sense each of those listed individually, but that his entire hand was different - modified.

Staring at it, he realized something. The shifting data he was so confuddled with was in fact his pulse. And, comparatively, it was much stronger. The blood itself was then easier to identify. It was... richer. And the flesh around the veins was somehow receiving the nutrients much more efficiently. Most of that was intuition - a hunch with his code magic and data sense he'd learned to rely on.

"Is that why I'm now so aware of everything?"

Level Up: Level 9 [Code Mage] > Level 10 [Code Mage]

Upgraded Skill: [Lesser Data Sense] (Uncommon) -> [Minor Data Sense] (Uncommon)

The inherent sense for the unquantifiable logic that exists within things. The data of simple objects and targets become pronounced to a minor degree. The data something possesses no longer scratches at the edge of perception. Now, the logic of things is somewhat understandable - the language of the unquantifiable, now somewhat decipherable.

New Skill: [Code Construct] (Rare)

Create a physical manifestation of code magic to act as a medium for code-related spells and effects. The [Code Construct] is always initialized as a blank slate.

Jayke blinked at the level up as his eyes roamed his new Skills.

He spent an hour testing his body and its limitations with his new sense. His [Minor Data Sense] had much more to say about the changes to his body and the effects of the [Decoction of the Mammoth] than his previous Skill did. In short, most of his assumptions were true. Only now, he was getting much more details than prior. He was getting the why of it all.

The entire time he was trying to understand how to use his [Code Construct]. Yes, Skills were supposed to be inherent knowledge once attained, but something about this one warred with his understanding of code magic. Normally, code magic didn't have a physical presence. Rare indeed, it gave him something to interact with at all times, even if he lacked an object to apply his code magic to.

But, unlike [Reinforce], it took him a bit.

"[Code Construct]." The words came from his very being, erupting from his throat along with the knowledge to enact the Skill itself.

His mana drained a significant amount and then suddenly he was staring at a human form. The figure was white like static. Its body was a constant flowing static - almost digital. Like white noise except easier on the eyes and less annoying.

He supposed it took that form because that was what Jayke was picturing.

He really shouldn't have been surprised when the thing slumped over and fell onto its blank face.

Oz felt the pulse of his heart acutely. It was an awareness born from what he was staring at.

The brown texture would've looked natural anywhere else. In a cave, in some mud, even camouflaged in critter dung. Even if it would've looked natural, Oz would've known it in an instant. How could he not? It was his passion.

Slime.

They were sitting at a table in the center of the Spider's Cradle. Ercur was correct, Undercut had wanted to drink with both of them after. Oz had lost all the money Ercur had lent him, although the sting of that was somewhat stymied by the fact she was the one who took it back.

Oz stared at Gallal Undercut, waiting for an answer.

"Aye, Ozzeop Slim. I was dying before I came here. Your pa saved my life." Gallal Undercut said. His bottom row of teeth was sharp.

Oz stared at Undercut's chest, exposed by the sorrial himself as he pulled his shirt up. A patch of his chest was void of all rough fur inherent to sorrials. Instead, there was a brown texture.

"That's an Earth Slime," Oz said dumbly.

"Gods above, Undercut. You couldn't go to a [Healer] or [Doctor]?" Ercur exclaimed.

The slime was lacking a core oddly. It held itself intact... and Oz could make out blood flowing through the brown slime. As if there were actual veins throughout it. Then he realized he was staring into a person's chest and slightly recoiled, having been lost in his passion.

"Couldn't. Ozzeop was there though before anyone else could've saved me. Pulled a slime right out of his pocket. Apparently, Earth Slimes are closest to the dwellers. Sorrials even more so." Undercut said, his grin was sharp and lethal but his expression was extremely friendly. Grateful even. "Your pa told me to one day expect a kid that looked just like him. Told me I'd be a testament to his field. Told me I was the first ever to receive a slime heart."

Oz felt it then. His burning passion flickering weakly. Unsure. As if the flame of his passion was dwarfed by someone much greater. A person who saw greater heights and pursued with greater fervor than Oz ever dared muster.

But no. His passion stole from the fire and burned brighter. Because that was the effect the Great Slime Mage Supreme Ozzeop Slim had on his son. Even in death, he inspired.

"May I study it?"