News at 9:

Mayor- candidate KawPea criticized the incumbent Mayor in what has become the largest scandal since she has held office.

1500 potential Ascenders have been targeted by goblin gangs and losses of 980 Freedom counters have been registered.

Guard chief DagWord has assured Citizens that the strictest measures have been put in place and said “even war with the Underworld was not too steep a price to pay for the safety of Citizens”.

Breaking News:

A strange, new race of feral with a long tongue has been spotted assaulting Citizens at Pearl Avenue. Citizens beware.

[This news is brought to you by Breathe: In & Out. In & Out. Now available in Goblin Guts.]

Shit!

Three daggers hit the wall missing his arm by inches. A barrage of bullets and knives skittered all around him. He wished he was gaining distance, but the two Guards were rapidly closing in on him.

His navigational ability sucked. But using his second and third vision, he could make out the Guard’s shooting patterns. The tiger kin’s throws came at his right flank so he covered it with a dustbin cover. The elf aggressively aimed only at his head, so Corn let his hood flap and ducked his head.

He turned left. Then right. Jumped over the dustbin. Ran into a few Breathe smoking goons. Tried tricking the Guards into chasing after the goons, but his loose robes were a dead giveaway.

He turned left again. A crowd, at last! He plunged straight into the crowd, dropping the cover and pulling up his hood. A fat nymph screamed. Must have seen his face. But Corn pushed through the indifferent, roiling mass and became one of them.

He shifted to his second vision and saw a floating mana made dagger. They were still tracking him. He pulled out a phone from his robe pocket and bent low; not low enough to trip someone, but low enough to stop them from seeing his jaws open. Rows of needle like teeth revealed themselves and he slipped the phone into his mouth.

He bit into the mini Screen and his teeth pushed out mana, breaking it into pieces and he swallowed the broken pieces of glass.

Tasteless.

Corn slid his hand in the pockets of an elf and obtained a new phone. Hmmm, it did look cheaper than usual. He ran ahead to sync his time left onto the phone.

Living as a Base Slave, information about the outside world was scarce. It usually came from the whispers of their wardens or from scant TV they were allowed to watch. Of course it wasn’t strictly true that Corn had not learnt not to steal, he just had no clue about the intricate systems set up to catch these thieves.

The first time the Guards had tracked him until he crushed the bug on his arm. Every other time they traced him using his phone. He had no idea how they did it, but he didn’t have a choice…

Oh look, someone walked by him. He switched to his third vision. She had a manacle on her left leg, so he ignored her.

‘Where was I?’ he asked himself.

A giant passed by.

Hunger took over him. He leapt into the air and his tongue darted out and stuck into a giant’s neck. The giant struggled to grab him, elbowed him weakly and sent him flying. She ran towards where he had fallen in loud, thundering steps.

She wielded Strength. Bruised as he was, he still managed to slip into an alleyway and evade her.

His stomach grumbled. It wasn’t enough, it was never enough.

‘Where was I?’ he wondered.

A floating whip walked by. He switched instantly to his third vision and confirmed he wasn’t a slave. He pounced on him. The nymph’s reaction was instantaneous. Before Corn could get close enough he had uncoiled his whip and flicked at Corn.

It burst into his face, where his eyes should have been. Corn clutched his head and saw his opponent run before he even could get up.

This was the problem. Anyone who owned mana made weapons valued them highly. He hungered for them. Badly. Often a warm, pungent smell floated up to his nose before he could even sense a mana made object was nearby.

Just the thought of eating one of those pieces of mana made him salivate with anticipation. But he was patient. He already set up a trap and soon, all so soon he would be full. Soon Hunger would be sated.

He entered the Screen booth.

Time Remaining: 12 hours 43 minutes

Stats: 14/20

He had fought and drained the mana of about 50 people and it was only worth 2 points?

All the same.

Corn walked to a nearby shop and bought a white face mask (with his own credits, can you imagine). It had no slits for eyes, Corn made a point of checking for holes.

He entered the Border Reserves office. His new captain was a horse kin with a long face.

“What’s with the face mask?” asked the captain.

“A holy writ,” said Corn (he heard others use this excuse a lot).

The captain stared at him (Corn had trouble making out facial expressions). “Who do you worship?”

Crap! He had no idea.

“ListLess,” Corn blurted out.

“Is that an actual deity?”

Corn did his best to look offended with a face mask. He screamed and gesticulated wildly.

“Pantheon or obscure?” he asked.

“Obscure,” said Corn without batting an eyelid.

The captain looked ready to search this information, but he abated, “There are millions of deities after all, Pan sript to you.”

“Pan sript to you,” replied Corn.

The captain’s face contorted with rage, “You liar!” Realising the gig was up, Corn ran from the Border Reserves. He should have paid more attention when people prayed.

12:02 11:13

Corn waited for a while and entered another branch of the Border Reserves. This time he searched for a more indifferent group. It would be riskier, but he would have the freedom to do what he wanted.

The captain was an orc. Would that make things harder? When he approached her, she succinctly send him the quest, as though he had simply asked her for direction.

Corn was furnished with the back pack, spear, short sword and armour. Mumbling some excuse about using the washroom, he slipped into an empty janitor’s room. He paced the entire room looking for Eyes or even cameras of any sort. Nope, nothing.

He started with the spear. It was roughly 2 metres tall, the head was made of metal and the base shaft was made of wood mana. With his second vision every single aspect gleamed to him.

He paused. Then moved behind the room’s door in case anyone entered. Better be safe.

Then, he opened his jaws. He turned around and looked for any possible threats, one last time.

He gazed admiringly at the spear and bit into the shaft.

He half swallowed the wood. It felt like he was eating food for the first time. It glided into his throat and settled into his stomach like two lost lovers.

The union was bliss.

He bit once more, for the taste this time.

It crunched and bled satisfying goodness into his tongue. It tasted partly of umami wholeness and partly of something else. The other flavour didn’t taste like bloody meat or the crunchy fat of insects. Its’ taste didn’t resemble ice cream, noodles, rice, peaches or bananas. It didn’t resemble anything else he happened to eat in the city or in any vague recollection of memory.

It was a new taste.

Names could come later, he bit into the spear head. He felt mana flow out of his spindly teeth and attack the spear head. The metal gave way and his teeth sunk into it. He pulled a chunk out and gnawed at it.

Each bite released tin amounts of mana, until it he had broken it into pieces small enough to swallow. It tasted similar. He tasted a blast of umami, a tang of something he couldn’t describe and the slightest pinch of sweetness.

The spear head felt more nutritious (rich in mana) than the base. So he finished it first, followed by the base.

The armour after careful examination could only been seen in his third vision and not in his second vision. It was not mana made, probably crafted out of monster skins and the like so he ignored it.

A few bites on the short sword revealed a blander taste but of a a similar flavour all the same. But as he ate the sword to its hilt, his head pounded and he went blind.

Subconsciously, he bit into the sword, but his teeth wouldn’t sink into the metal. He panicked. Rising up the blade fell from his hands and clattered onto the floor. It wasn’t like when he couldn’t control his vision.

His mana had run out.

His head hurt like someone was bludgeoning it with a hammer and his left arm stump hurt like it was being separated from him. It felt like his mana nodes were being removed from his body. He sunk to the floor.

“CornWall?” shouted a voice and Corn heard pounding on the door. They found him already?

Silence. After a few seconds, Corn heard murmuring and whoever was at the door turned away.

That was close.

Then, his phone rang. Shit!

“Is someone in there? We’re just looking for one of our teammates. He had a death hoodie and a white mask. Hello?”

He fumbled with his phone then stopped. If he switched off his phone, wasn’t that the same as letting others know there was someone inside.

He slid his phone to the other side of the door and wore his mask. He couldn’t move the gear.

The door creaked open.

Corn hid behind the door.

“Why would someone leave their phone here?” asked the intruder. Corn heard the pings and clicks of someone perusing the phone and then silence.

Had he seen him?

Silence hung over the room. Corn waited for the sound of boots. Nothing.

He had seen him. Otherwise, why the silence?

He who seizes the initiative wins.

Corn drove the hilt of the sword into the solar plexus of the intruder.

He heard a body hit the ground and pounced on it. There was a pulse but no motion. He pushed his mask back and his tongue darted out. It instinctively latched onto the base of the intruder’s skull. He drank the watery mana with relish.

His second vision flickered back to life. He smiled. The biology and instincts of his race were interesting. Using his teeth consumed his mana, his vision wouldn’t work without mana but his tongue required not a drop of mana. It made sense. The mana he could physically eat was nothing compared to the mana he sucked out from people.

Time to leave. He took out a reserve mana made dagger from the back pack and dumped the rest where it wouldn’t be found immediately.

09:47

He wished he could leave the building but there would be checks on the exits. Safeguards to ensure mana made equipment weren’t that easily smuggled out.

He paced the hallways, looking for another janitor’s room. Dressed in a death robe, he was pretty inconspicuous amongst mercenaries who died for a living. Without much difficulty he managed to scout for rooms.

He finally sneaked into a closet and closed the door, latching it shut.

“Don’t move,”

Not again.

He stood still. His sight was in third vision. So the intruder must be standing beyond its range.

“Are we lagging on our quota?”

“Yes,” Corn heard someone else sigh. A more feminine voice.

“How? After all those incidents?”

“We have to give them a cut of our yellow shiny discs.”

Realisation dawned on Corn. They were talking about Freedom counters.

“SHHHH. Someone might hear, you dolt.”

“Nonsense, this channel is private.”

Channel? He could hear them as though they were talking in front of him. Was it another of his racial abilities?

He cautiously searched the room. There was nobody inside. Yet he heard them go on. The talk grew technical and abstract enough that it all went over his head.

He wanted to go confront these two bastards. Rip their guts off and splay their innards. His rage overwhelmed Hunger easily. But he could sense the power behind the two voices. Power that reminded him of his slavers. Power over multiple Stats and over multiple abilities. Maybe even Skills. Right now he would wait.

When the time was right, he would strike.