It occurred to me that the label in the elevator was a clue. I have no excuse for not thinking of it sooner. Though some mistrust of this place was warranted, I had a deep itching feeling that nothing was as it seemed here.
So to the top floor I went, softly humming a song about falling into the darkness. A song many mistakenly thought was about dying, which was really about the creeping shadow of memory loss from Alzheimer''s. That part of me that always whispers the worst things to say or do, thought that was funny. The rest of me thought it was funny too, in that sick to my stomach kind of way.
The ride up took a few minutes. The eeriness of a place for living being so quiet, so still, sank in deep. Even the elevator itself was silent. If I hadn''t felt its motion I would have sworn it was not going anywhere at all.
Being left alone with my thoughts, has never been a good place for me. My thoughts went all twisty, and often turned negatively upon myself. It was why I like working with my hands, I could focus on something that wasn''t in my head. Since I''d been in this new world it had rarely been a problem, always something to do, always something else to think about.
Those few minutes in that metal box felt like hours, as all the ammunition that the more devilish part of me stored up, got used in a burst of rapid fire recriminations. All the doubts, failures and flaws, real and imagined were written large across my mind. My inner troll had shaped and crafted them into a far more cutting tool, than they should have been.
Tears flowed down my cheeks as I saw my inability to save people. My lack of of action in the face of this broken society. Every person I had let down or lost stood as specters in my heart. Casting countless aspersions.
The weight of corrupted events fell on my shoulders, every action I''d taken was rewritten into a monstrous deed. Me, cast as the Villain. Every word I''d ever said bitter and biting, weapons tearing the hearts of others to pieces.
Under the canopy of the Valley there was peace, but all I could see was the trees there burning. Then it was thousands of troops rallying to my cause only to be thrown into the meat grinder of battle.
This wasn''t right. This wasn''t the way it was, but it was growing harder to see it any other way.
Success breeds failure. As true for myself as anyone and anything else.
And there it was, the thing whispering into my ear. I could finally feel it, a twisted version of me. I turned to look at it, and it grinned at me. Faint and shadowy it spewed its assaults deep into my psyche. In its moment of victory it stopped hiding.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.
Seeing that everything I was experiencing had an instigator brought burning rage to the forefront of my mind. The time for thinking was done.
Now it was my turn.
My Aura flared a rich deep green, and my shadow clone was well within range. I felt it there a greasy oil bubble filled with vitriol, it wasn''t alive, nor was it dead. Some form of sentient mana given a purpose.
It was easily crushed by my greater "mass" of energy. I gripped it with my mana and squeezed.
In its final moment, I saw it struggle. I was pleased, it was aware, it could hurt. I wanted it to hurt.
It popped with the stink of burning tar and raw sewage. I reflexively cast Purify to remove the odor, and heard a further scream, sounding like a steam whistle. Just rupturing its form, didn''t finish it off I supposed.
I swept the area with tendrils of my mana, the only way I could think of to search for more of those gloomy things. Nothing. The area seemed to be clear.
Perhaps, I should figure out some way to passively scan for these types of threats. Yup, that goes on the priority list.
Was this shadow thing normal here? Or was it shaped and sent by someone else? My gut said it was the latter. The rest of me wasn''t so sure. The thought that anyone could send something here into what seemed to be a private space was disturbing.
Unless it was the Company, but it seemed too tame by their standards. Too small.
The gear cranked in my mind.
I smacked my head.
I had come in first. Which implied there were others like me. If there were others, not all of them would be decent folks. Bound to be someone who thought that power meant that they could act as they wanted, with no regard for others.
I was falling into that trap myself. Others might go further.
What kind of power would be able to create one of those shadows, what kind of mind would be behind that creation?
I didn''t like the profile I was building.
There were enough troubles in this world, I didn''t need a new enemy.
But I apparently had one.
The "Master Floor Living Area" was one quarter of the footprint of the building, or about a couple dozen times the size of my apartment in MB 4. You could play professional football easily within it, with plenty of room left over.
The floor was done in a cherry stained teak hardwood. I could feel the spring in my step that comes with having a cork underlayer, which pleasantly muffled the sound of my steps as well. The walls were covered in grey wooden slats with the occasional outlet. The rest of the space was remarkable only in the fact that it was empty. No furniture of any kind.
The outer wall had 9 huge windows looking down upon the space of my Hub. The view wasn''t much, just the field I woke up in, the roof of the Value Tree and the roof of the Storage Tree, then the other field of purple grass.
Surely there was some way to change things here.
Maybe in one of the other sections of this floor.
I sighed not liking the mystery of this place, and I could only grimace at the idea that I would have to manually haul things up here. Without something like the storage space of my former class, that was going to be quite the challenge.
You never really appreciate the things you have, until some demented being rips them out of you.