2. Rolling In Their Graves

Lukas woke in a wet tangle of cold limbs. A much-too-familiar metallic taste filled his mouth. He knew it intimately. The clones' memories almost always ended with heavy coppery notes. 

Moving proved a challenge. He had spent the past six decades in a body that regularly underwent strict training—through the clones, if not personally. Somewhere along the way, Body Reinforcement magic had also become a regular part of his life. Meanwhile, his new form felt heavy. Just turning his head was a labor and a dull ache pulsed around the right side of his cranium. Lukas wished to know what he looked like and investigate the source of the pain, but the sight of pale, bloody corpses was all he could see.

The world darkened for a moment as something partially blocked the only source of light above. At first, it looked like an amorphous blob trying to plunge the world into darkness, but then the darkness grew, and the shape became more distinct.

That’s a fucking corpse. 

Everything hurt, and his stomach churned as Lukas forced himself to roll out of the way. He just about got away before the body landed with a sickening wet thud. It then occurred to him that he was in a mass grave.

Instincts demanded he climb to freedom straight away, but Lukas didn’t doubt there would be a fight waiting for him at the top. He wasn’t going to survive it in his current state. The body was far too weak, and no matter how much he wracked his brain, all the magic that he had learned in the past sixty years remained out of his reach. The transmigration had robbed him of it all.

The journal appeared out of thin air as soon as Lukas thought about it. The pages lit up with the same sapphire light as Lady Silverspine’s eyes. He hurriedly shielded it from above using his torso. The illumination would be a welcome bonus at any other time, but now it was a grave risk. When a couple of groans also sounded among the corpses, he put the journal between his hunched-over form and the wall. Much like him, not everybody in the mass grave was all the way dead.

The Pillars of Self—

That’s a silly name. I’m calling it Power Compass going forward. It just makes more sense. 

The Power Compass hadn’t changed. However, new words danced along the margin.

The Great Silver Dragon, Silverspine, has granted you an ability shard.
Fuse it with a Pillar of your choosing and ascend from your mundane life.
Choose carefully. The change is permanent and will shape who you are as a person on Fracture.

The journal rippled as Lukas focused on the message. A finger-long crystal filled with luminous azure motes rose out of the pages. It hummed. When Nil reached for it, the page flipped, and more words appeared, giving him a clue regarding how to proceed and Fracture’s power system functioned. Meanwhile, his fingers passed through the shard.

The Shard of Duplication can produce the following abilities:

Copycat(Body): Perfectly replicate anything you witness or experience. As long as it doesn’t require shards, equivalent magical capacity, or physiological alterations, anything can be copied. Magic, physical ability, and artisanal skills born of decades worth of practice mean nothing. Proficiency rapidly deteriorates following each use of Copycat, and only one thing may be copied at a time. However, understanding and memories of mastery remain.

Double Trouble(Heart): Burn magic to double any natural characteristic. Strength, speed, toughness, senses, and even proficiency in a skill or trade can be doubled as long as you can bear the cost. Only one quality may be multiplied at a time, and extended usage may cause extreme exhaustion, strain, and injury.

Twice Magicked(Mind): Double the power, range, effects, area-of-effect, or any quality of any spell in your arsenal. Pay only half the enhancement’s cost and skip any additional casting, runework, or any work that might be required. The chances of producing wild magic increase with every quality multiplied after the first. The effects might be beneficial or detrimental to you but your understanding of magic will also improve.

Arcane Clone(Soul): Split one’s soul and wrap the fragment in magic to create up to perfect physical clones of oneself. They can’t use any Shard abilities but, as extensions of you, have access to all of your capabilities, skills, and magic, and can also dispel themselves if instructed. Once a clone is dispelled or perishes, the soul fragment will teleport to its origin, bringing back all it has learned and experienced.

So the Shard and Pillar combined decide the ability?

It wasn’t as simple as Lukas had imagined. The available abilities were surprisingly complex. It was clear that the Body Pillar produced mostly physical, yet complex abilities, while Mind’s offerings were magical in nature. Heart and Soul seemed more abstract and needed further study. 

A sudden jerk and wet thud gave him pause as another body landed on the pile. An unrecognizable bloody limb slapped the side of Lukas’s head, making him jump.

“Fu—” He just about caught himself mid-yell. It seemed that more than knowledge had blurred and faded. The new body lacked his old calm and put-togetherness. His nerves needed steeling and reflexes tempering.

So, we are starting from scratch in every sense of the phrase. Crap body. No knowledge. Barely any power. Perfect.

“What in Drakas’s name was that?!” A rough, grating voice exclaimed above. It had an almost inhuman quality to it. The sounds weren’t quite right, seeming like a cheap imitation of normal speech.

“The youngins aren’t killing them right, Shamin,” another said. “Sticking their pokies in the wrong place. Not even checking. Fools. Let’s just shoot arrows down the hole.”

It surprised Lukas that he could understand them. It had taken him a long time to get used to all of the languages in his previous realm. English and the little Spanish he knew had proven useless. He only understood Lady Silverspine for the longest time until one of her more senior, and now dead servants took pity and taught him—mostly through the clones. Lukas had them do all the boring work.

“Don’t waste arrows, Softscale,” the first of the pair said. Their voice was deeper and more guttural. It almost sounded like the person was gargling pebbles. “Softscales, the lot of you. Not a trace of experience or maturity among ya. Ancestors dry the chief’s seed. They’ll suffocate once the fledglings bury them. It's not like any of them are going to get out anyway.”

“Or we could have them go down with knives. Dig for gold one last time. Then poke 'em real good?” The second’s tone betrayed their excitement.

“This pit is all servants. No gold. No pretty stones. Bloodletting might be good for the Softscales, though. They need hardening before the first snowfall.”

To err on the side of caution, Lukas almost flattened himself against the wall, trying to make himself as small and invisible as possible. He looked over the offerings once more. Twiced Magicked was arguably the best of the lot. Improving spells or casting more powerful versions of them often demanded extensive research and development and alterations of the runescript and casting process. Bypassing all of it on the fly and saving on magic costs while at it seemed perfect for any aspiring mage. He had hoped to pursue magehood and wizardry in his new life.

However, Lukas didn’t waste any time pondering the decision. Arcane Clone was a part of who he was. The version on offer only produced half the number of the original base spell but came with the knowledge and training inheritance function, which he had taken years to develop. Numbers and the other base abilities would come with time. The transmigration might’ve robbed him of his old knowledge, but Lukas was sure his aptitude remained unaffected. He had full confidence in his ability to figure out Fracture’s magic and tweak all abilities born of it to fulfill his needs.

There will be other shards but I doubt I’ll get a chance to learn a cloning ability again.

The crystal shard dissolved as soon as Lukas touched it, and the azure motes within flowed into his fingers. His insides seemed to glow as they moved through him. The lights travelled up his arm, spiralled around the shoulder, and then worked their way down to just above his navel, where they finally blinked out of existence.

A painful metaphysical shift followed. Lukas couldn’t recall whether he had ever felt that part of himself before. There was no telling whether the Pillars of Self really let someone tap into and manipulate their soul, but he felt a new presence within. It was amorphous and moldable, not quite jelly or playdough, existing as something in between. Along with it came a rush of strength and reinvigoration.

The journal’s page went blank and fresh words appeared within.

The Soul Pillar has awakened! You are no longer a mundane.

Arcane Clone ability has awakened.

The journal flipped to a new page. Artwork of several tiny men fighting and carousing bordered it.

Arcane Clone: Tier 1 | Rank 1

When Lukas thought about Arcane Clone, the mass seemed to bend and reshape itself. Invisible hands twisted and pulled, almost tearing off a third. It was an uncomfortable sensation like he was ripping off a part of himself. Things remained as they were until he firmed his grip on Arcane Clone and confirmed his decision to use the ability. The piece separated from the mass, and then another presence rushed to surround it. Given the exhaustion and light-headedness that followed, Lukas was sure he had just used magic.

“This is so bloody disgusting,” a new him whispered, climbing out of the pile of corpses. “What’s the plan, boss?”

“You really don’t know?” Lukas hissed, getting the first real look at himself. Sickly and pale. The new him looked like freshly raised undead. If he wasn’t so obviously starved, Lukas was sure he’d be handsome for once.

“Oh. I know what you were thinking when creating me, but the idea is kind of half-baked, isn’t it?”

“I’m all ears, El-One. Do you have anything better?”

“You don’t need to bite my head off, El-Prime. I’m just wondering whether you have any new information since you started the creation process.”

“I’m as in the dark as you.” Both paused, holding their breaths as another corpse fell from above. More groans sounded from within the darkness. Their conversation had also summoned whispers. More than one strained voice had begged for help. “Start climbing. I’ll make one more of us.”

“Got it, boss. Don’t throw your back out while at it.”

That’s one thing I don’t miss.

The clones were an unruly and talkative bunch when Lukas first learned the ability. It was one of the annoying things he had mostly blocked out. He used clone again and the process was as uncomfortable as the first time, but didn’t last as long. The wobbling mass within seemed to resist as it got split into two, but now that Lukas knew what to expect the process went quicker.

“Any questions, El-Two?” Lukas asked the new clone.

“I’m good, chief,” El-Two replied. “Let’s get moving. I’m ready to die for your skinny butt.”

The grave was deeper than wide. The smooth walls suggested that magic had played a role in its creation. Lukas wondered whether someone had repurposed a well to get rid of the dozens of corpses. Two ropes hung over the side, probably for the fledglings to complete their tasks. He and the clones took full advantage of them.

El-One was already halfway to the top of one. Despite the malnourished state, the body had decent upper body strength. Lukas went up the other, with El-Two following. It wasn’t long before they were all panting. The clones and he were all injured, exhausted, and malnourished, after all. It was likely that the transmigration had brought his current body back from the dead, if not near death, mending a fractured skull and damaged brain. The dull ache plaguing his head intensified with the exertion. Lukas only reminded himself to put one hand in front of the other and continue ascending. When he faltered and slipped, El-Two was there to catch him.

The El-One paused once at the top. He awaited Lukas’s signal before climbing over the edge and running for it.

“A live-un! Get him, ya filthy Softscales!”

“After him!”

Several bird calls and screeches followed. 

“Come get me, you feathery dick-faces!” El-One called from the distance. It sounded as if he had already put significant distance between himself and the mass grave.

Lukas counted down from five before sticking his head out of the hole. The two overseeing the grave had their back to him. They were humanoid, short, and wide, with feathery necks but also had scales covering parts of their exposed limbs. He didn’t know how long El-One would distract them without falling and running. El-Two didn’t follow. He grabbed a bloody axe lying next to the hole and attacked and charged at the distracted duo, targeting the heavier staff-wielding specimen.

A smoking mansion sat on the mountainside to Lukas’s left. The roof had fresh holes, and armored corpses stood skewered on the roof. Meanwhile, the surrounding village continued to fill the air with dark, suffocating smoke. Only embers and singed beams remained of the buildings. Feathers, blood, limbs, and more littered the ground. Strange graffiti covered the few walls that stood. All displayed a crimson bird with an ugly beak. The decoration around them almost seemed religious. Lukas didn’t know enough to take a guess and continued running.

The fluid blob his sixth sense detected swelled, doubling in size. A rush of memories followed. Lukas recalled the sensation of arrows biting into his gangly limbs and shoulders and saw El-One’s final moments as a lizard-bird-man jumped out from behind a building, wielding a twisted club. It swung into the clone’s face, instantly killing him.

El-One had two purposes: to distract the creatures draw them away from Lukas and learn as much about them as possible. The creatures were humanoid raptors, except a giant horned beak sat in place of their snouts. Knowledge from his last realm continued to fade rapidly, but everything he had learned on Earth somehow became sharper. It occurred to him that their heads resembled Shoebills, one of the largest living birds from when he first transmigrated. It wouldn’t surprise him if it had gone extinct in the past half-century.

The blob grew again, returning to full size. El-Two had perished. Much to Lukas’s surprise, the clone had successfully slain both of the targeted creatures. The first fell to the surprise attack, taking an axe to its scaly neck, and it coughed a luminous crimson marble. Unfortunately, its death rattle alerted the seemingly younger, slender, and more colorful companion. El-Two managed to claim a fallen spear and planted it in the creature's gut but then took an arcane blast to the chest. Both had died of their wounds in seconds. Memories of the final moments flooded his head, but it was the disappointment of leaving behind the magical sphere that stung. It most likely contained power or was at least worth a pretty penny. 

Now that I think about it, the memories of pain and death aren’t as vivid. Secret bonus, maybe?

Lukas didn't get much time to think things over. Squawks sounded not far behind him, and arrows fell like hail around him. His lungs burned, and his knees felt like jelly. They begged him to stop, but Lukas refused.

I'm not going to outrun them.

The path brought him closer to the destroyed manor. A squat stone building further downhill from it caught his attention. Cart wheels and hoof tracks scarred the ground around it and runes covered the door, its frame and surrounding walls. The structure had protections and would hopefully buy him some time. 

Lukas threw himself against the door. It didn't budge. He pulled on the handle, and the surrounding runes flared, resisting him. There was a reason the building remained unmolested and undamaged. Enchantments and arcane defenses had kept it standing unmolested.

The arcane language was beyond Lukas. No matter how much he squinted and traced, nothing came to him. The clattering of arrows and approaching shouts only made his heart race faster and his heart pound more, making it harder to focus. He kept low, hoping the creatures would continue to miss as he desperately searched for a solution.

Give me something! Come on.

Lukas kicked the door, cursing under his breath. Before he could look for another option, an arrow finally found him. It ripped through his sleeve, grazing his upper arm and slicing across his deltoids. He stumbled into the door, wincing as the new wound rubbed against the inscribed surface. 

The runes lit up. Lukas stepped back just in time to see fresh blood seeping into the stone. The door opened, and he dove through before pulling it closed behind him. A mechanism clicked, and spell scripts flared, fading just as suddenly as they had appeared and leaving Lukas in the dark and unexpected frigid temperature.

Memories that weren’t his own or the clone’s flashed through his mind’s eye. His new body was intimately familiar with the building and had been to it many times before. Lukas summoned his journal and used its sapphire light to illuminate the storehouse. Wheels of cheese, sacks of flour, and preserved meats surround him. 

Was I a kitchen porter?