I sat on a replica of an old wooden rowboat remembered from my childhood. The wooden planks, and the white and green paint had been replaced by black mist and smoldering crimson embers. Around me choppy waves threatened to upend my tiny craft, the design of which was never intended to be seaworthy.

Beads of half frozen rain fell around me, covering me in a thick slush that quickly melted as it came into contact with the heat of my body. Despite the freezing air and the frigid water that soaked me to the bone, I did nothing to shelter myself – allowing the rain to fall on me unimpeded.

Instead I rowed. The repetitive motion, back and forth, it was cathartic. I sat on the rear bench, facing forward. I smiled slightly remembering my father, and his never-ending lessons. He would not have approved of my rowing form. I could picture him as he constantly reprimanded me for sitting “ass backwards” every time we would take the boat out on the lake.

I missed those lessons, I no longer had a rock to fall back on. No one was there to offer me sage wisdom born out of loving concern and decades of experience. I was alone, only myself and my demons. Demon.

“You can come out now,” I yelled.

For a moment I sat there, only the soft patter of rain and the howling of the wind to bear witness to my words. I felt rather embarrassed, despite no one being there to see me.

“Fisher! I said it is time to show yourself.” I yelled louder now, feeling like an old man challenging the sea. A cliché from an era long lost to time, hidden now between the pages of oft ignored tomes.

“Do you think yourself my master?” said a voice on the wind. The sound was clear, and yet reminded me of the thud of a hollow wooden box.

“If not me, then who?” I said. “Is not a man the master of himself?”

“Ah, so the simpleton tries on the jester’s hat. Do you speak to me in riddles? Should we match wit-for-wit, like rapier spikes - tit-for-tat?”

“I won’t compete with you in foolishness,” I said. “I only want answers.”

“Then does the wise king bend an ear to bespeech the roguish fool? Ask, perhaps I shall deign to speak.”

“You’ve had your words, Fisher. I believe I still have questions,” I said. Anger rose up in my voice, and I felt my hands balling into fists as I shouted at the creature. At myself.

“Then speak your query, prey. You already know all that you must – if you want strength then you must cast aside your bonds – and yet you cling to yours as if familiar shackles did suckle you at merry teat.”

“We. Are. One.” I said. “It’s not true is it? You’re something else, something more, and something less… human.”

“Do not deny your nature, little Finn. The fool - the king- twined they are, creatures both united and apart – one must simply switch a silly cap to see a fool of sovereign made. A Severed sigil upon a silver crown, shattered and scattered upon the seven winds. Find the pieces and claim your chair upon a broken council, waiting and wilting within the sleeper’s dreams. Soon to fade, in waking.”

The creature spoke in a strange way, stilted and quickly changing in tempo and even accent. Its words would increase in speed as it spoke in forced alliteration, only to slow down to a crawl as its voice deepened and grew steadier as it spoke less poetic words.

“The damned shall fall before you,” it continued. “And the righteous rise up behind your mantle. Let me feast upon the souls, a Fisher King, daring and debonair to snare the wicked and the mad in wild gluttony, like the dulcet songs of hope crashed upon the destined shores of Avalon.”

“I do love these pointless conversations,” I said. “I know I could never come up with something as pointless as… whatever nonsense that was. Just tell me what you are.”

“I’m an answer, and a riddle. Both the key and the lock. You must simply know the answer before you ask, and all shall be revealed. Know this young fish, rise above your oppressor, cast aside borrowed power, and you shall cry havoc as you ride across this world, and others, like Wodan upon his slippery steed, the Hunt loyal at your heels in eager chase into the depths of Hel.”

“Again, with the ominous bullshit,” I said. “Kudos on cutting down on the atrocious alliteration, though.”

I waited for a minute, rubbing my temples before continuing. “Just answer me one final question, and please answer with as few words as possible.”

“Speak.”

“Where the fuck am I, and how do I get back to my friends.”

“A simple matter,” it said. “Just follow me, like doomed detritus beneath devoted albatross, undaunted and dogged it guides true if faith is kept in kind.”

“Right, we were getting along for a moment there and you had to go and ruin it,” I said. With a sigh I raised my hand and pointing forward. “So that way, then?”

…

The fog of eldritch energy had begun to spread over the water, so it was almost a shock when my boat grounded upon a narrow beach littered with small stones and bits of broken shell.

The boat ride had taken several hours, and I reflected that I probably could have made it back more quickly if I had simply swum using the decidedly odd method of locomotion the Companion had created for me. I repressed a slight shiver at the thought of allowing that creature to bond with me once more.

It was a useful trick, but one that I had not fully embraced.

The boat ride was not in vain, however, as it had allowed me to process my gains from the previous battle. I wasn’t sure the level of the creature I had slain, as analyze was no longer available to me and I was hesitant to use Eye of Madness in anything but the most extreme situations.

Whatever the level, it was worth a staggering amount of XP. I had gained six levels with a single kill, bringing me up to level fourteen, though the readout displayed it as (3/11) most likely due to the “dead” levels I had gained before I had a class.

It seemed strange that the system would allow such useless levels to exist if its whole point of existence was making citizens strong enough to resist monsters created by eldritch mutations. Perhaps there was a hidden benefit to these levels, or at least a way to remove them.

The six levels I had gained granted me twelve unallocated stat points. When combined with my remaining four this gave me enough points to unlock five more of the “pre-tutorial” feats. Only two more points and I could collect them all. I wondered if I would get a shiny trophy to memorialize the achievement.

Either way, I was running out of reasons to procrastinate.

I immediately put three points into focus, it was by far my weakest stat and yet it looked incredibly powerful as it had the ability to synergize with my other mental stats – making them stronger when I was focused on a single task.

The feat I was granted, Inner Focus, was quite interesting. It would allow me to meditate and use my focus stat to find my own inner weaknesses and strengths. It also had the much more appealing ability of allowing me to add focus to physical tasks, in addition to mental ones. I could focus on a particular action, like striking an enemy or making a throw, and the likelihood of me succeeding would increase as my focus stat did.

A few points in focus and reaction and I’d probably be the best juggler the world had ever seen. Perhaps when this whole apocalypse thing was finished I could find a new gig. Augustus Finn’s Three Ring Circus of Terror and Delight had a nice ring to it.

I still had enough points to unlock four more feats. This time I decided to purchase them all in one go – getting over my crippling indecisiveness like ripping off a Band-Aid.

I put three points into perception, vitality, endurance, and agility. This left me with only one point remaining, but a menagerie of new feats - Eagle’s Sight ®, Bear’s Vitality ®, Horse’s Endurance ®, and Snake’s Agility ®. Each new feat acted to increase the effects of their respective stat. For instance, eagle’s sight acted to increase the range of my senses, all senses not just sight.

Bear’s vitality increased my passive health regeneration slightly and would also allow me to go longer without food or water. Horse’s endurance almost completely eliminated stamina drain while running – which would allow me to sprint at full tilt for hours at a time. Snake’s agility was an interesting one as it increased the elasticity of my body, not only would it increase my flexibility, but it would also reduce an damage taken from falls and blunt attacks.

None of them were game changers on their own, but all together they added up to something greater than the sum of its parts. The ability to sense danger sooner and run away for longer might just help me live an extra day, or at least for a few additional moments. Even then surviving longer than a day seemed a faraway goal best left to contemplate in later, safer times. I was in hostile territory, alone and with no idea if my friends had even made it across the river.

In front of me were dunes covered in thick patches of tall beachgrass. I could feel small creatures, infected with eldritch energy, crawling beneath the hills of sand. Large insects burrowed, and snaking creepers grew between the roots of the swaying grass.

Behind the dunes I could make out the U-shaped courtyard of a hotel. Its once grand exterior was now broken and collapsed, its skeleton and plush interior exposed and bleached by the cleansing rays of daylight.

The whole world seemed like a rotting cadaver, waiting to be feasted upon by scavengers.

I slowly crept closer to the hotel but stopped when I noticed the smell of smoke and charring flesh. It was overwhelming, as I hadn’t yet adjusted to my newly enhanced senses. The minor boost to focus allowed me to filter out the smell, at least partially, and focus on the task at hand.

I continued to move forward with small, precise movements. I was careful to keep low, never allowing any part of my body to raise above the dunes. Now that I had seen how incredibly powerful system-enhanced senses could become, I wouldn’t underestimate any creature’s ability to sense me through my amateur attempts at stealth.

As I reached the crest of the dunes I lay prone and slowly crawled forward on my belly.

In the distance a small band of vaguely anthropoid creatures huddled around a bonfire. The creatures had odd proportions, with too small heads, short legs, and arms long enough to drag behind them on the ground. They had dark green skin and patches of black fur that ran down the center of their backs, and clumped like thick rugs upon their chests.

The largest slept, leaning against the side of the hotel with a chunk of charred meat still dangling from its open, greasy hand. None of the other creatures so much as dared to look at the vulnerable meal, instead staring at the small flank being slowly roasted upon the fire.

“Can you get close without being seen?” I communicated with my Companion mentally.

The only answer I got was a small kingfisher flying over my head directly towards the hotel.

“I hope he heard the ‘without being seen’ part,” I silently moaned to myself.