“What have you looked at so far?” Crossroads was curious. He’d been purposely avoiding following Dix’s thoughts while he was pursuing the list earlier. He didn’t want to accidentally influence any of his decisions by reacting to a random thought Dix had about one race or another. This would be important during this conversation as well, so he carefully schooled his expression to show nothing.

Dix picked up the Racial Tinder tablet again, a faint smile on his face. “You did a good job with this. Reminds me of something we have on Earth.” He trailed off for a moment, thoughts of Earth, humans, and a bunch of extinct races bouncing around his head. Eventually he quietly started talking again, his eyes still on the tablet he was idly spinning in his hands. “Originally, all I was doing was looking for better humans. Refusing to change my physical form too much. It’s strange, I hate humanity, yet I am still so attached to it. I know it’s because it’s all I have ever known, or been, but I still thought I would do better. It left me strangely disappointed in myself.”

Once more he stopped speaking. Crossroads almost peaked into his mind to see what was going on, but he realized that he didn’t want to experience the maelstrom of emotions that Dix was undoubtedly undergoing. Instead he simply watched the expressions on his face change. Curiosity, disappointment, anger, and eventually determination.

“When I figured out what I was doing, I decided to try something different. It helped that I figured it out around the same time I found the check box for the extinct races. My first thought was that I could be something unique, that no one else could be. Maybe something powerful, and mysterious. I do like mysteries. After a little while I realized the real reason why I like the idea of taking an extinct race so much. They are dead, just like me. If I get to have a second chance at life, one of them should too.”

Crossroads quickly smiled slightly, although Dix didn’t see it, still engrossed in staring through the Tablet of Racial Segregation he had in his hands. Abruptly, he stopped, grabbing the tablet and lifting it towards Crossroads, as his head rose and his eyes met those of the god. “After I choose my race, I get to keep this right? As a primer for the races of Mantra? I suspect it would come in rather handy.”

The god just smirked and shook his head. “Did you really think it would be that easy? That’s my list, so, no, you can’t keep it.” He paused, which was eventually exposed as being for dramatic effect only. “But I’ll make you a copy, and bind it to you so you can’t go around showing it to others. The blasted pixie was supposed to teach you about things like this, but you killed her. Thank you for that. Anyways, eventually you might have the ability to modify it, and add your own notes. Shoot me a prayer if you get that far, and we can talk about ways you can update and upgrade it as payment.” He was still smiling at the end, but it was a smile that made Dix feel like he had somehow been tricked into a deal with the devil.

Feeling slightly uneasy, Dix tried to laugh, but it came out a little strangled. Crossroads’ smile just grew, so Dix gave up his effort, and sighed instead. He knew he’d been tricked into something that sounded suspiciously like work, but if he was the one who got to update the list, he would do his best to fill it with sarcasm, snark, and just plain idiocy. The idea cheered him up a little bit. He wondered how many of the current descriptions were the result of a similar deal. “Fine, that sounds fair. I expect working for a god has good compensation.” Crossroads slight frown at the mention of compensation made him smile. On the inside. Couldn’t let the enemy see you gloating after a win during negotiations.

“Anywho. Races. Yeah, I think I’ve picked one. Honestly, it was the only one I found that interested me, and I can’t see myself finding something I like more in the non extinct races.”

Crossroads gave a big smile, sitting forward in his chair and rubbing his hands together in pairs. “Excellent! That was quicker than I had expected.” His voice dropped to a quiet mutter that Dix barely heard as he said, “Guess I do get to drink at home, good.” Back to his normal volume, he asked, “So, what strikes your fancy?”

“Runeborn.”

The deafening silence that followed that statement almost made Dix reconsider, but his mind was made up. Crossroads was perfectly still for a full minute before he started scratching his chin with one hand, another hand tucked under the arm of the first, and the other two in a thumb war in his lap. Almost immediately after the god started scratching, the mumbling began. Dix could only hear a few words here and there. “Runeborn… not happy… time… good… came… mana problems… killed him… others can… but how… going to make… race… help hide… monster...” It was a confusing collection of words that didn’t really make a lot of sense, but Dix got the general idea that it would be complicated to do, and even more so to live. He was glad he had learned to manage his fear at an early age, it would help to keep him sharp, alert, and paranoid as all hell.

As Crossroads kept up his muttering, at an even lower volume than before, Dix surreptitiously hid the racial list in his jacket, tucked into the lining. He wasn’t exactly positive that a god that represented life, death, order, chaos, and time would actually give him his own list in anything resembling a reasonable timeline. Stealing from that same god probably wasn’t a bright idea, but he was betting on Crossroads being so distracted by whatever internal argument he was having that he wouldn’t remember he hadn’t recovered the list from Dix. It was a slim chance, but he’d managed to shock and surprise Crossroads on a couple of occasions, so it’s not like he was omniscient.

Crossroads personal debate took a while to finish. So long in fact that Dix not only finished his drink, he also stole and downed Crossroads as well. A fact Crossroads only discovered when he finally relaxed back into his chair with a smile on his face reaching for his glass. When he didn’t find it on his side table he looked around until he spotted it in Dix’s hand. With a snort he said, “Careful with that one, kid, it packs a punch.” Then he pulled up new drinks for both of them and returned his eyes to studying Dix, all four hands tented in front of him.

“So, Runeborn. An interesting choice that comes with a host of problems. There are only a couple that I will tell you about though, the rest you get to discover on your own. The first is actually the reason I interrupted her in the first place,” he gestured at Chance in the middle of his little speech. Dix was actually a little startled. He’d completely forgotten about Chance and what she had been about to do. He was mildly embarrassed to realize that in his mind he had been treating her as a statue ever since Crossroads showed up. No woman would be happy to learn that she had been so reduced in a man’s eyes. Vowing to somehow pay her back for the inadvertent slight, that he would never tell her about, Dix turned back to Crossroads and his problematic discussion.

“The second we’ll take care of now. You need to choose another race. Something not extinct, preferably with magical based abilities, weaker ones at that.”

Once again Dix was confused. Why would the problems with Runeborn require me to take a second race? And with that amount of specificity? Something is going on here. Determined to at least get something out of the god, Dix prepared for an argument and stated his question. “Why?”

“When the Runeborn were killed, their bodies were immediately returned back to wherever they originally came from. While this definitely denied their murderers the chance to study their strange biology or use them as trophies, it also had the side effect of removing that same information from the system. Which means you need to choose another race to act as your physical form. This will also help to disguise you. As the Runeborn had a unique relationship with magic, you should choose a magical race to help hide your magical abilities. It further behoves you to choose a race with simpler and weaker abilities so that you can duplicate them if it becomes necessary to do so in order to maintain the fiction. Hmmm.” He paused, thinking, then smiled slightly when a solution hit him. “Some sort of half breed might actually be your best choice. The diverse magical abilities, along with the social stigma should keep people from looking too closely. And for an added benefit, half breeds sometimes have strange mutations that give them access to altered abilities from each race, further helping you hide what you are. You won’t have the mutation, but you can use it as an excuse for whatever you come up with.”

Dix thought over the idea for a while. He was surprised to learn that the Runeborn’s bodies were gone, and that it affected the system as well. Wherever they came from they certainly were special, a thought that further increased his desire to become one of the legendary race. As for choosing another race to hide behind, he was frustrated. For one, he didn’t like hiding, although he could manage it as a means to an end in most cases. It just wasn’t ever his first instinct at how to solve anything. Hiding long enough to gain an advantage he could do though. Maybe he could think of it that way. He also really didn’t want to have to go to the work of digging through the list again, or of showing it to Crossroads, as he might not get it back. Finally, dealing with the anxiety of what he ended up looking like was irritating as well. It wasn’t that he was vain about his looks, he just wanted to make sure he would still be attractive to the females he was attracted to.

Sighing, he looked over at Crossroads. The god looked calm, and a little pensive. Maybe he’d thought of a simple solution to the choice of another race. “You got a suggestion, old man?”

The god simply sipped at his drink, gesturing with a hand as he spoke. “I assume that you would still like to remain humanoid, and mostly unchanged, yes?” Dix just nodded. The decision irritated him a little, but his desire to not have to relearn how to fight or walk superseded it. Not to mention his desire to keep getting laid. “You sure you don’t want an extra set of arms? It’s quite handy you know.” Dix just groaned at the pun, shaking his head. “In that case, I would suggest a Folk. They are a mix of elf and orc. You can learn their history on your own time. A fairly common race, they can have a wide variety of racial abilities depending on their bloodlines and crossovers. Luckily the physical diversity of the race easily covers your size, but your skin, eye, and hair color would change. As for abilities, it should clear you to do whatever the hell you want, provided you don’t go bragging around too much. Really quite an elegant solution I believe. What do you think?”

Quite pleased with everything he had heard, Dix readily agreed. It covered all the things he was worried about, and a few extras. He still had questions though, “What about the magic? You said it’s different.”

Crossroads nodded, rose from his chair, and walked over nearer to Dix. He held out all four arms, spread so no two were overlapping, palms up. Runes appeared over each hand, none of them the same visually. But to Dix there was a feeling of similarity between them all. He cocked his head, stepping closer and closing his eyes. His sight was confusing him. The things he saw felt like lies. After a little concentration, he felt his senses expand a little, as though they had been muffled or caged away all this time. The mana from the runes could be felt on his skin, smelled and tasted in the air, and he could hear it crying out, singing its purpose to all who would listen. It was all of these and more as another sense awakened, one he had never known before, and didn’t understand. All he could tell for now was that it had to do with mana, and it was a little overwhelming.

“Whoa… That’s new,” Dix said, holding his head with one hand. It wasn’t a headache, but it was similar. Not so much pain as pressure and fuzziness. His normal senses were still reeling at the sudden uptick in capability, and his brain was struggling to adapt to the increase in sensitivity and detail. It only took a short time to adjust, proof that whatever had happened was more weird system stuff. With his mind returned to mostly normal function, for him, Dix once more turned his attention to the runes floating above Crossroad’s hands.

Crossroads gave him a look, stopping him in his tracks. “Try to get used to your new senses first. If you dive right in, you’ll only be worse off. Start with something as normal as it gets around here, like the shelves. Once you can handle those, move on to one of the weapons, and then the runes. Let me know when you’re ready.” His hands dropped back to his sides, the runes gone, as he turned back to his chair and drink.

Dix glared after the cantankerous old bastard, but there was really nothing else he could do in this situation. Grumbling to himself, he wandered back to the shelves. Crossroads was right, they were mostly normal. Made of wood, there was likely some sort of preservation spell or enchantment to keep them looking like new despite however long they had actually been here. Taking a deep breath, he braced himself, and let loose his control over his new heightened senses.

They rolled out in a wave, washing over everything in a small area. With it came understanding. His new sense, whatever it actually was, worked similar to echolocation or sonar, but it didn’t use sound. Additionally, the return pulse came in on all of his five senses, each with small overlaps. There was so much more coming back to him than before he felt a little like he’d taken hallucinogens. He could feel sounds on his skin, and hear the wavelengths of light. Dix could taste the mineral compositions of the things around him from twenty feet away. Couldn’t understand them, but he could separate them out. Smell was heightened to the point it could pick out individual scents from everything, and now seemed hardwired to his memory, making it much easier to recall things associated with a particular scent, and starting a catalogue of unique scents. He struggled to relax and just take it all in, not trying to understand his upgraded senses, merely to let them flow through him. Letting his mind and body adjust to them was important.

After some time he finally started actually working his senses. Focusing was his first goal, but it took some time to realize he was doing it backwards. This new sense wasn’t like sight, it didn’t have tiny muscles you used instinctively that helped with things like that. Instead he had to go back to the very beginning of using his new sense before he understood how it worked. It really was a wave that had come out of him, except unlike echolocation it wasn’t sound, it was mana. And it was less a wave, and more a cloud. A cloud that he could control, to some extent. The mana cloud was centered on him, and appeared to attempt to form a complete sphere around him. It was somewhat distorted by the ground and other solid objects. The mana didn’t completely penetrate things, but there was some seepage. He was a little surprised when he realized he could now feel a foot or so through the ground.

Once he realized what he was actually dealing with, focusing became a more plausible action. His first attempts were still failures, although they did succeed in some ways. His initial attempt at focusing was to just shrink the size of the area the cloud covered. This resulted in a massive increase in density of the mana in that area, and thus gave a much clearer picture of everything within. It took another ten minutes before he was able to shrink the cloud just slightly, and then concentrate the newly freed mana into a specific area to truly focus on something. When he realized the level of detail at which he could now study something, all his work was worth it. With the mana density increased in a small area, it could even penetrate through solids better allowing for much higher detail of the internals of an object.

The shelf, as he had thought, was just wood, but there was some sort of mana flowing along the grain that he assumed was the preservation enchantment. It moved slowly, but seemed to smooth out any roughness in the particles that made up the wood, and helped rejuvenate and protect it. Everything worked on such a small scale that he never would have discovered how it worked without his new sense.