The fog lay thick over Lakevail that morning, a low white tide that had rolled in from the ridges and pooled in the valley like somebody had poured milk into the world and began to stir from every direction at once.
Elmore woke to the muted gray light of it pressing through the bedroom curtains and the sound of Ash already moving. Sheets rustled, bare feet thumped soft against hardwood, then the familiar squeak of the bedroom door. He lay there for a moment, letting his brain catch up, feeling the heavy ache of too little sleep and too many thoughts chewing on the inside of his skull.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, joints protesting out of habit more than actual limitation. The room smelled faintly of Ash’s shampoo and old wood. Ditzy lifted her head from the her dog house outside his window and leaned her polar bear sized head through the window, blinked at him with slow canine patience, after getting a chin scratch she then dropped it again with a huff back onto the pillow she rested on. The expression she radiated was that said she was awake but not on duty yet.
“Come on, girl,” he muttered. “We got a day to get through.”
She gave him an annoyed look and did not move.
He shrugged, grabbed his pants, tugged them on, shrugged into the faded red flannel that always ended up on the back of the desk chair, and padded out toward the kitchen.
Ash was already there, of course. She moved through the room like a culinary aphrodite , hair thrown up in a messy knot, glasses perched high on her nose, one of his old shirts dangling past the waist over gym shorts. The stove was alive with activity, cast iron skillets heating, butter popping in one pan while steaks rested on the counter, sweating slowly toward room temperature. The smell of coffee, yesterday’s batch, hung heavy near the fridge.
She did not look up when he walked in, just flipped a burner on with her wrist and said, “What do y’all want this morning?”
“Whatever,” Edward said from the table, eyes locked on his phone.
“Whatever you are making,” Elmore answered, voice rough with sleep as he opened the fridge. “You always do it right.”
He grabbed the glass pitcher of cold coffee, poured it into a chipped mug, and took a long swallow. It was thick, bitter, and perfect. He leaned against the counter near the window, cigarette already between his fingers by long habit. The lighter clicked, flame briefly bright against the pale fog outside.
He cracked the window and exhaled, watching the smoke thread into the morning mist. The view that usually centered him felt distant. The fog sat in layers between the trees, muffling sound, hiding most of the valley. All he could see clearly were the closest pawpaw trees in the yard and the pale ribs of the bone throne rising through the whiteness like a fossil breaking out of sediment.
Behind him the kitchen was quiet in a way that was not peaceful. No radio. No idle chatter. Just the soft clink of utensils and the faint tap tap tap of Edward’s thumbs on his phone screen.
Ash cracked eggs into a bowl with unnecessary efficiency, whisking them hard enough that the fork rang against ceramic. She seasoned without looking, salt and pepper falling in practiced little bursts, then laid steaks into the hottest pan. The meat hissed, filling the room with the comforting sound of searing fat.
Elmore watched his son’s reflection in the fogged window glass rather than turning around. The kid was hunched over the table, shoulders slightly rounded in a way they were not supposed to be at seventeen. He still wore the same clothes from the day before, big frame shoved into a T-shirt advertising some metal band and jeans that had seen better days. There were faint shadows under his eyes. His beard, which he usually fussed with at least once every morning, looked ignored, bristling in uneven directions.
The boy looked like he had not slept. More importantly, he felt like he had not slept. The air around him had that heavy, brittle weight that comes from thoughts grinding against each other all night long.
Ash plated breakfast without ceremony. Two heavy plates of steak and eggs hit the table with soft thuds, each one accompanied by a small bowl piled high with ripe pawpaws, skins gone that particular wrinkled brown-black that meant they were perfect. She set a third plate down where Elmore usually sat, then grabbed her own mug of coffee and finally joined them.
“Eat,” she said, still not quite looking at either of them.
They ate.
The steak was medium rare, crusted right, juice soaking into eggs fried in the same pan. The pawpaws were soft as pudding, the insides a pale yellow cream that tasted like someone had taken banana, apple, and pear, crushed them together and then decided that was not decadent enough and added their own strange perfume on top. It was the kind of breakfast that usually had all three of them talking, planning the day, teasing each other.
Today the rhythm was off.
Edward picked at his food while he ate, chewing slow, staring at nothing. Every now and then his phone buzzed and he glanced at it with the same empty hesitation, then set it down again. His fork scraped the plate in little circles, organizing eggs into piles, pushing steak around like he did not quite notice what he was doing.
Elmore watched over the rim of his mug. He did not bother looking at the screen to see what the boy was reading. It did not matter. The content was just cover for the real problem.
When the plates were about half empty, Elmore cleared his throat. The sound felt loud in the small room.
“So,” he said, keeping his tone as casual as he could manage. “How’s that Nexumon presentation coming along?”
Edward did not look up. “Good,” he said quietly.
“Carilon help you with it any?” Elmore tried not to let the corner of his mouth twitch when Ash’s eyes cut sideways for half a second.
Edward gave the smallest nod, a short dip of the chin that would have been easy to miss. “Yeah.”
“Good,” Elmore said. “She’s smart. Y’all will make a solid pitch.”
Silence flowed back into the space their words had briefly cleared. Forks scraped. Coffee cooled. Outside, the fog thickened, rolling past the window in slow currents that made the world look like it was underwater.
When they were finished eating, Ash stood first, collecting plates with efficient movements. Edward pushed his chair back.
“I’m gonna head out,” he said, voice low. “Got stuff to do.”
He turned toward the hall.
“Hold up, boy,” Elmore said.
There was nothing harsh in his tone, but there was weight. Edward stopped. Slowly, he turned back, meeting his father’s eyes for the first time that morning.
Elmore nodded toward the back door. “Come on. Me and you got some things to talk about. It ain’t good for you to sit in the headspace you’re in now longer than one night.”
The fire that flickered behind Edward’s blue eyes surprised him. Up close, it looked less like defiance and more like panic held in place with stubbornness.
“What difference does it make?” Edward asked, voice shaking just enough to be noticeable. “I am going to be thinking about this for the rest of my life. What difference do a few words make now? Nothing I do matters in the long term. Not really. In the end it’s all just going to go back to you.”
Ash froze at the sink, hands still under running water. She did not turn around.
Elmore let the words hang there. He nodded slowly, acknowledging the punch.
“I hear you,” he said. “I do. I thought that way myself before. Plenty of times.”
He jerked his head toward the door again. “So come on. I gotta take you to my church.”
Edward’s face scrunched instinctively, the expression somewhere between disbelief and annoyance. “Your church?”
“Yeah,” Elmore said. “Been going regular for a long time now. Figure it is time you see it.”
He did not wait for agreement. He just picked up his lighter and half pack from the counter and headed for the door. After a beat of irritated hesitation, Edward followed.
Ash watched them go, lips pressed together, then turned the faucet off and leaned her hands against the edge of the sink as if holding the whole house in place.
Outside, the morning was bracing. The fog wrapped around them cool and damp, carrying the smell of wet earth, distant woodsmoke, and the faint sweet rot of fallen pawpaws smashing underfoot in the yard. The bone throne loomed to their left, ribs vanishing into the white, its empty sockets watching them without eyes.
They walked down the gravel road in silence.
The stones under their boots had been ground down by years of use, packed tight, but they still bit through the soles in places. Birds called somewhere in the distance, their sounds muffled and strange in the mist, like echoes from another world.
Elmore did not rush. He let the valley breathe around them. Edward shoved his hands into his pockets and kept pace half a step behind, shoulders hunched against more than just the chill.
After a short walk half way to elmores fathers house, well within the area of his home, he stopped so abruptly Edward almost walked into him.
They stood near a bend in the road where the valley floor was a sharply vertical forested area. Ahead, the fog thinned just enough to reveal the outline of the one mountain side and top no one had ever been aloud to build on. Just the green rolling canopy, climbing toward three enormous trees that punched through the lower tree cover and the mist on the summit very reminiscent of crosses when their leaves fall off but invisible this time of year onder the blanket of green leaves.
People had asked about that mountain for years. Elmore had never given a clear answer.
He dropped to his knees.
The gravel had once bit his skin, sharp and now just familiar. Before Aither, this same act had left his kneecaps bruised for days. Now it was just sensation, pressure with no real consequence. The pain's absence left him with a guilty conscience, so he knew if Edward knelt the same way it would hurt like hell.
He bent forward anyway, big frame folding down until his hands then forehead pressed into the packed dirt and rock. The cigarette between his fingers burning to ash slowly, forgotten.
He stayed like that for a moment, lined up with the mountain, the unseen trees, the gray sky beyond. Then he straightened slowly, joints popping, and rose up into a kneel. Hands came together in front of his chest, fingers laced loosely, and he bowed his head in what could only be a prayer.
His words were not needed but still His lips moved, and whatever he said, he said it inside.
After a long breath he let his hands fall, rocked back, and dropped the rest of the way onto his ass. The gravel protested under his weight, stones skittering. He reached into his pocket, fished out another cigarette, and lit it with practiced ease.
Edward stared at him. “I thought we were going to church,” he said, baffled.
Elmore exhaled, smoke curling up to get swallowed by fog. “We are,” he said. “This is my church.”
Edward’s eyebrows crawled together until they nearly met. “What, this patch of rock and trees?” He jabbed a thumb toward the mountain. “That hill you stare at like it owes you money?”
“Yes,” Elmore said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “Partly. But also the blue in the sky when it is clear. The clouds that drift over when it is not. All of it.” He gestured wide, taking in road, valley, mountain, fog. “This is where I pray.”
Edward let out a frustrated breath that almost cracked on the way out. “How is this a church, Dad? What are you getting at, old man?”
Elmore patted the ground beside him. The gesture was unhurried, almost lazy. “Sit. I got a short story to tell.”
Edward hesitated, staring down at him like he was not sure if this was some elaborate joke. Then he dropped down with less grace, the gravel sending a sharp rock right into the meat of his hip.
“Shit,” he muttered, adjusting quickly, palm sweeping over the ground to flatten the worst of the stones so he could sit without impaling himself again.
Elmore watched him settle, then reached into his shirt pocket and came out with the pack of cigarettes. He tapped one out and held it between two fingers, not offering it yet.
“You are almost a man now,” he said, voice even. “And with the Nexus the way it is these days, these things do not really kill anymore. So it is your choice as a man what you want to be and what you want to do.”
He extended the pack, offering it properly this time.
Edward stared at it.
There had been cigarettes around his whole life. Uncles on porches. Truck cabs that always smelled of smoke. His father at this very window most mornings sending gray ribbons into whatever weather was out there. Cigarettes had been background noise, normal as coffee.
Nobody had ever handed him one and called it his choice.
He took it.
His fingers shook a little as he pulled one free, rolled it between thumb and forefinger. Elmore leaned in with the lighter, but Edward shook his head.
“I got it,” he said.
He struck the lighter himself and cupped the flame against the breeze like he had seen Elmore do a thousand times. The end of the cigarette glowed orange. He took his first drag, coughed almost immediately, eyes watering.
Elmore snorted. “Before all this magic bullshit,” he said, “I would have beat your ass for smoking. Back then this stuff would have cut years off your life. Now, with healing potions and resistance scores, they barely touch you unless you are trying real hard to die slow. So why bother yelling about it. Same reason we let y’all drink, by the way.”
Edward wiped his eyes with the back of his wrist and tried another pull, smaller this time, more careful. The taste was harsh, hot, strangely grounding.
“Are you not supposed to be telling me a story?” he asked, voice rough.
“Yeah,” Elmore said, leaning back on his hands, cigarette dangling between two fingers. “I just figured you might need that first.”
He drew in a long breath, smoke and morning fog together, held it for a second, and let it out slow. Then he set the cigarette aside on a flat stone where it could smolder without burning anything down.
He looked up at the mountain, at the three dark crowns of the trees just visible through the mist, then at his son beside him.
“Alright,” he said quietly. “Here it is.”
And Elmore took a deep breath, closing his eyes for only a moment to organize his feelings.
Elmore sat there a moment longer, eyes half closed, cigarette burning down between his fingers as the fog crawled past them. When he finally spoke his voice had that rough, slow quality he only used when he was being honest enough to hurt himself with it.
“I was an atheist for twenty one years,” he said. “Real one. Not the kind that says it to sound edgy. I grew up in church like everybody else around here. Brick building, red carpet, old ladies with casseroles, preacher yelling about hell every Sunday.”
He snorted softly.
“Whole time I was a kid I just thought the adults were playing a game. Same as pretend. Same as Santa. They closed their eyes and talked at the ceiling and it felt like when kids play house and pretend to be mom and dad. Then I got older, hit those teenage years, figured they were all just dumb. Too scared of death to admit there was probably just nothing.”
Edward took a slow drag, watching him side long. The cigarette still made him cough a little at the end but he tried to hide it.
“For a long time,” Elmore went on, “that was enough it was just lights out. Do what you want, pay the price that comes from people. Just science and reality pure existential nihilism with a smile. ”
He rubbed his thumb over the filter of his cigarette, looking at the glowing tip instead of his son.
“Then I got told I was going to prison for something I didn’t do, something that was going to stick on my record like brimstone it was the type of label you do not come back from nomatter where you hide. I could have beaten someone half to death and still had a better chance of getting my life back than if they stuck me with that bullshit.”
Edward shifted, gravel crunching under his pants, but he did not interrupt.
“I had just lost my best friend that day,” Elmore said quietly. “ My only other real friend, his girl cheated on him. The whole little world I had built for myself just broke in one afternoon. So I spent the day consoling him, listening to him cry, talking him down. Doing the whole ‘it will be alright’ song and dance while I was planning to kill myself before court.”
His lips twisted.
“Back then I was messing around heavily with LSD from selling it just enough to keep myself high for free like a side job to the point i can say I knew every color in the damn rainbow from the inside out and backwards, if you know what I mean.”
Edward gave a tiny nod.
“Anyway,” Elmore said, “that night it was raining. My buddy dropped me off, and I went to go home in the rain, it was so heavy I could barely see the trees in the dark forest. I walked up to your pawpaw’s house, up that driveway you know, stood under that yellow streetlight out front. Rain falling through its glow looked like melted gold coming out of the sky. Whole place just looked sad and that was the first thing that hit me. Nothing about it was scary, or comforting anymore. Just sad. Like the walls were dripping dread.”
He mimed the shape of the light with his free hand, palm open toward the sky, then let it fall.
“So I turned around,” he said. “Could not make myself go inside and look my dad in the eyes knowing I planned on eating a bullet before the next month was over. Walked back down the dirt road instead, rain hitting my face, and I started crying and yelling. Not to anybody, just at myself and the mud and every stupid decision I had made.”
The fog around them thinned for a second as a breeze passed, giving them a glimpse of the valley floor far below. Then it closed again.
“I walked past the tree line,” Elmore said, jerking his chin toward the dense growth along the slope. “ through the tree tunnel and over to here, when the trees opened up and i could see the sky in all its colors.”
He smiled at the memory.
“That night the sky was empty. Not a single cloud, just the stars' nebulae and tranquility. The whole universe laid out, clean and sharp, while I was just this little speck of meat and hurt walking under it with muddy boots and bad intentions, I just reasoned with myself while looking at it. It was the clearest thought I have ever had.”
He flicked ash away, watched it disappear into the fog.
“I ended up right here. This same patch of gravel, same angle on that mountain.” He nodded toward the ridge and the hidden trees. “And I just… broke. Started talking to it. To the mountain. Yelling at it like it was God himself sitting up there judging me without that thought in mind. Told it every bit of what I was feeling, every fear, every time life had kicked me in the teeth. I unloaded, son. Rage, self pity, all of it. I argued with that hill like it had personally wronged me.”
Edward glanced up at the green and mist, then back at his father.
“And somewhere in the middle of that,” Elmore said quietly, “it felt like something answered.”
He tapped his chest once, knuckles hitting sternum.
“Not a voice in the air or thunder, and not like you see in some movie scenes. It felt like somebody set a chair down right in the middle of my soul and sat in it was annoyingly calm and patient, it was not impressed with my screaming, but listening anyway. Every time I yelled, I could feel a response without words just meaning like language in its purest form, but mainly just… presence. It pissed me off worse than if someone had yelled back.”
He gave a short, humorless laugh.
“So I got madder, I said if you are real, if you are actually up there, you owe me answers. Why me who did i suffer so much, what have I done for everything else in my life to happen and then be left in this hell. Why I am headed to prison for something I didn’t do? Why did every good thing I tried to build turned to rot and every i love you come with thorns, why was i given a life of duality seeing everything with no power to change it. And that presence did not flinch, It was like arguing with the mountain itself. You can scream all you want, but that rock does not move but they do listen and judge.”
His eyes had gone distant, seeing years ago instead of fog.
“I decided I was going to test it,” he said. “Because I am not stupid, hallucinations happen, brains lie, LSD lies. So I figured, alright, if this is actually God and not just me having a hard trip on 5 tabs, then it can reach out and touch the world I am standing in.”
He took a final drag of the cigarette, then crushed it out on the stone beside him, leaving a small black scar.
“So I dropped to my knees,” he went on, “right there in the gravel. Same as you just saw me do. I pressed my hands together and I said, ‘If you are real, I need a sign.’ Only I did not make it through that sentence.”
He looked at Edward now, making sure he had his full attention.
“The very second I said ‘I need…’ every dog in this valley howled,” Elmore said. “ All of them from so far I knew they couldn't hear me speak. You know how sound carries here. It rolled down the hills like somebody hit a siren. Every single time I tried to say those words they cut me off. I would stop, the howling would stop. Three times in a row that happened. Mouth opens, lungs fill, dogs explode, I breathe out, they go silent.”
Edward’s cigarette paused halfway to his mouth.
“You were high though,” he said softly.
“Oh, I was absolutely high,” Elmore agreed. “That was the first thing I thought. So I sat there and tried to logic my way out of it. Maybe it was coincidence. Maybe there was a siren I was not
hearing. Maybe I was timing my words to them without meaning to. All the little excuses you make when the world does something you do not like.”
He shook his head slowly.
“But there is a point,” he said, “where you know you are lying to yourself. And in that moment, I knew damn well what I was talking to. God, mountain, whatever shape you want to slap on it, I knew it was not just chemicals making jokes at me.”
He took a breath and let it go, long and slow.
“So we bargained,” he said. “I complained some more. I told him, ‘If you wanted me to listen, you could have come talk to me before all this went sideways.’ I argued like a child yelling at his parent for not stopping him before he touched the hot stove. In the middle of all that fussing, I got quiet enough to hear that presence again. Not words. Just this clear understanding. I had made my mess. I had to walk into the consequences. But I did not have to walk into them alone.”
His voice went softer.
“And I knew what I had to do,” he said. “It was not complicated. Stop pretending I ran the universe. Stop pretending I knew better than everybody. Admit I had been a prideful idiot my whole life. Ask forgiveness. Simple. Difficult. Both at once.”
He placed his own hands on the gravel in front of himself, pressing his fingers in until the skin whitened.
“So I put my hands down,” he said, “pressed my head into those rocks until it hurt so bad I thought my skull would crack. I said I was sorry. Really said it. Not the kind where you are just trying to get out of trouble. The kind where you see yourself clear for the first time and you hate what you see. I begged him to forgive me. For wasting the life I had been given. For thinking I was smarter than everybody, including him.”
He looked up, eyes wet but not spilling.
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“And the rain came down,” he said. “It was clear skies and had stopped raining, but this was different. It went from nothing to a wall of water. I was soaked in one second. Water in my ears, in my eyes, in my mouth. Cold, hard, everywhere. It felt like somebody dumped a whole river out of the sky right on my back.”
He let the memory roll over him for a moment before speaking again.
“It felt,” he said slowly, “like all my darkness was drained from my pores and washed away but deeper than that. The ache I had been carrying since I was a kid, that heavy thing you do not have a name for, it just loosened. Like it too was being washed down the mountain with the rain. All that anger, all that hopelessness, it went sliding off with the sins of my past.”
He wiped at his beard idly, like he could still feel the water.
“I stood up and it stopped with my motion ,” he said. “Looked at that mountain. Those three trees. That glowing cloud sitting on top of it, white as a golden fleece with the moon behind me, black clouds drifting over everything else. And I realized I was not angry anymore, the rage was gone. The weight was gone. I was someone else.”
He snapped his fingers softly.
he said. “Valley went still. That was the first time in my life I just said, ‘Alright. You win. Show me the path ahead and I will walk it.’”
He fell silent for a while, looking at the mountain through the thinning fog the way a man looks at an old scar.
“Now,” he said eventually, “you remember the story about me and your mom. Bits of it, anyway.”
Edward snorted. “You mean the one where you were high as hell and texting everybody trying to apologize for being a dick?”
“That would be the one,” Elmore said, mouth quirking. “I had known your mother a few years by then. She was sixteen when we met, me eighteen, back when I was friends with her ex husband. Nothing ever came of it then. Should have, looking back, but I was too stupid and she was married to a bastard.”
He scratched his cheek, watching the smoke from Edward’s cigarette curl up.
“After that night out here,” he said, “I went on a tear trying to make things right before court. I was still planning on killing myself before they locked me up. That was the deal I made with myself. Make amends, say sorry to whoever I could, then bow out before the system chewed me up.”
He nodded toward the valley.
“I got on Facebook one night, high as a kite, scared out of my mind, thinking it was my last chance to say anything true. I started calling and messaging everybody I thought I had hurt. Your mom was on that list. That little old account she did not even use anymore dinged. We were both surprised when she saw it, she’d stopped using it one year before and she was opening it to deactivate it when I messaged and we got talking.”
Edward smiled even more despite himself.
“She asked me to come over,” Elmore said. “First message was shy. The second was less shy. Third one was basically ‘get your ass here right now.’ Three times in twenty minutes she asked, and I kept saying no until I broke. When I walked through that door, I knew I was already off the path I had planned. We spent a week in there. Pizza delivery through the bedroom window, cleaning the whole house like lunatics because my parole officer was coming by later.”
He shook his head fondly at the memory.
“In that month before jail,” he said, “we built something real. Fragile as hell, but real. Enough that when I finally walked into that Baptist church with her i stood outside the door smoking an entire cigarette , stone sober, scared spitless, and the preacher made the call to come forward, I walked. It wasn't because I was scared of hell, I already thought I was going to prison, nothing on earth sounded worse than that. I walked because I felt compelled.”
He pressed his palm flat to his chest again.
“When he prayed over me,” he said, “when I said the words and handed my life over, what I felt in that little church was the same thing I felt out here that night under the stars. Same presence, same soft hand on the inside of my ribs like my pain and sins that remained where evaporated and drawn to heaven along with a part of myself. And I was sober at the time so acid, or weed, i was on nothing. So either my brain had become very consistent at lying to me in the exact same way with and without chemicals after one experience, or it was real.”
He gave a small shrug.
“I chose to believe it was real,” he said simply. “Still do. That feeling is why I know I am not just talking to myself when I bow my head. It is why I kneel here instead of the fancy buildings with stained glass. This spot is where he answered me the first time I got honest.”
For a while he said nothing, just watched the valley.
The fog over Lakevail had started to burn off. Patches of blue pushed through the gray above them. Down below, towers emerged in layers, turquoise plates catching early light. The Hall of Beginnings appeared first, hulking and solid, then the rows of homes and gardens. Tiny figures moved along the streets, people going about their day, carrying baskets, walking to work, kids darting between adults like minnows.
Elmore picked his cigarette butt up from the stone, ground it out fully, and flicked the dead filter into his pocket so it would not end up in the ditch. He sat very still, looking at the city he had built.
“That is the story,” he said at last. “That is why this patch of gravel is my church. That is why I bow toward that mountain every time the world feels like too much. Not because I think you are supposed to be scared of God, but because he met me here when I was ready to quit and told me to get my ass back up and walk.”
He turned his head, finally, to meet Edward’s eyes.
“And now I am telling you,” he added quietly, “that your life matters even if mine keeps looping. You are not a placeholder. You are one of the reasons I stayed, I just didn't know it yet and I couldn't imagine being happier, I'm proud of you son, I love you.”
“Thanks for tellin’ me that, Dad,” Edward said, voice low, not looking over yet. “It don’t really change my situation, but I guess it changes my perspective. I guess sometimes I look up to you as more than a man, like everybody else in town does.”
Elmore felt that old tight pinch in his chest again, the one that made him want to joke, made him want to swat it away with a laugh and a dirty comment, because he was not built for reverence, and he sure as hell was not built to sit still while his son looked at him like that, but he also knew that dodging it would teach the boy the wrong lesson. So he did not dodge. He took a drag, tasted smoke and wet air, and nodded slow.
“I’m just a man,” Elmore said, and even as he said it he felt the lie people lived in, the lie where a title makes you less human, where the valley’s needs turn you into a symbol and the symbol is not allowed to bleed. “I’m a man that got lucky in some ways and got hammered in others, and I’m a man that learned to keep movin’ even when I wanted to lay down and rot. Folks forget that part cause it ain’t fun to think your chief can break.”
Edward finally looked over, eyes red rimmed from lack of sleep and from the kind of thinking that scrapes you raw. “So what do you think I should do then,” he asked, and he tried to make it casual, but it was not casual, it was the question under all the questions. “Like, what’s the move. With everything.”
Elmore stared back at him, beard damp with fog, and he could hear his own old voice from years ago, begging the sky for a path, begging for a sign, and he could taste the bitterness of it because the truth was there was never a clean map for living. There was only the next step.
“Whatever path leads ahead,” Elmore said. “Walk it. Just keep moving. Don’t freeze up and don’t lay down. You keep goin and you’ll change shape as you go, and I’ll make damn sure you ain’t forgotten, you hear me. You ain’t a placeholder. You ain’t some shadow of me. Everything you do matters because it happened, because it touched people, because it changed the world around you in ways you won’t even see right away. You’re gonna leave a mark no matter what, boy.”
Edward sat with that, jaw working like he was chewing something tough, and he nodded once, small and real, the kind of look that meant he was not fixed but he was moving again. That was enough. Elmore flicked ash into the ditch, crushed his own cigarette out on a flat stone, and pushed himself up, joints popping out of habit. He brushed his hands on his pants and looked down at Edward.
“Come on,” he said. “Get up. Follow along. We got work to do.”
Edward huffed like he wanted to argue out of pure reflex, then he stood anyway, dusted his jeans, and fell in beside Elmore as they started walking back the way they came, down the gravel road through the fog that was thinning more by the minute. The valley felt different when you walked it after saying something like that, like the ground itself had shifted a little under your feet. Down below, the first real streaks of blue were pushing through the gray, and the towers of Lakevail were appearing like bones rising out of milk, turquoise plates catching light where the fog broke, and in that moment Elmore felt that familiar strange pride and guilt together, pride that he had built something that held, guilt because he knew the building never stopped and it never would.
They cut off the road and into the yard behind the house, pawpaw trees close and heavy, fallen fruit split on the ground like bruised hearts, sweet rot in the air under the damp, and the Bone Throne rose nearby the way it always did, too big to be normal and too real to be a story. Even half hidden in fog it still looked like a warning, ribs arcing high, skull looming, and at the base the stone platform was blackened and dusty with ash from old fires that never fully died. Edward’s eyes went to it automatically, and Elmore saw the way his son’s shoulders tightened like the thing demanded respect.
They walked up to it, boots crunching on gravel and scattered bone dust, and as they got close Elmore felt that thrum in his chest that only came when he was near his Seat of Power, that quiet pressure like the valley itself recognizing his presence. Edward looked up the ribs that served as steps, and up at the tusks curving near the top, and for a second Elmore saw him as a little kid again staring up at something too big to understand, except now the kid was almost grown and the question had teeth.
“Up we go,” Elmore said, and he started climbing, hands on bone when he needed it, boots finding grooves worn into ribs by years of use. Edward followed, breathing heavier than Elmore because Elmore’s stats made hills into jokes, and Elmore kept himself from making it look too easy, out of respect, because you do not humiliate a boy that is trying.
At the top the fog was thinner, wind cooler, the valley spread under them like a living map, and Elmore lowered himself into the skull seat with a grunt, bone creaking under his weight. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife, plain and sharp, the kind of tool that had done a thousand boring jobs and a few important ones, and he held it out to Edward handle first.
“Take it,” Elmore said.
Edward took it, eyes narrowing a little. “For what.”
Elmore leaned left and slapped the big curved tusk beside the seat, then pointed with two thick fingers at the letters carved deep into the ivory colored bone. ELMORE. His name, cut in hard strokes, deep enough that weather and time could not smooth it away fast.
“See that,” Elmore said. “Now you put yours beside it. This is your place one day no matter who comes after. Carve it.”
Edward stared at the tusk like it might bite him. “Dad,” he started, and stopped. He swallowed and stepped closer, bracing a hand on the tusk, knife tip touching bone. Elmore watched his son hesitate, watched the muscles in his forearm tighten, watched the knife bite and then skid a little because the bone was hard as sin, and Edward cursed under his breath and tried again, pressing harder this time, making the first faint line of an E that was more scar than groove.
“It ain’t gonna cut easy,” Elmore said, voice calm. “Don’t fight it like it’s wood. It’s bone that been soaked in Aither and weather and blood. You gotta commit.”
Edward grunted and leaned into it, dragging the blade again and again, making shallow marks that barely showed in the fog light, his breathing getting sharp, frustration rising. He made the letters anyway. E. Then D. Then W. It was ugly and thin and faint, and by the time he got to the end his hand was cramping.
Edward stepped back, staring at the name he had scratched into the tusk. EDWARD, visible if you knew where to look, light scars on a pale curve.
“That’s weak,” Edward muttered, disgusted with himself like the bone had judged him. “I can’t even carve a damn name.”
Elmore let out a short laugh and shook his head. He stood up from the throne, stepped close enough that Edward had to look at him, and he tapped the fresh scars with his knuckle.
“That ain’t weak,” Elmore said. “That’s the start. You ain’t got the strength yet to cut it deep, and that’s fine. You’ll sit in this seat one day and you’ll finish it then, and when you do you’ll carve it deep enough that even if the world burns and floods and freezes, your name will still be here. That’s the point. Not that it looks pretty today.”
Edward’s throat bobbed. He nodded, slower this time, and handed the knife back like it suddenly weighed more than metal.
After a breath Edward glanced around, trying to shake the emotion off his face. “So what now,” he asked. “We just… come up here to carve my name and stare at the valley.”
Elmore smiled it was that crooked one that meant he had something in mind. “Now we level up,” he said. “Me and the throne.”
Edward’s eyebrows lifted. “Right now.”
“Right now.”
Elmore sat back down, planted his hands on the arms of the seat, and let his mind drop inward the way he always did when he opened the Seat of Power. Elmore saw that familiar prismatic spiderweb lightning spread across his vision, lines of light like cracked glass and glowing threads, a HUD that layered itself over reality without blocking it, and then the Seat of Power tab opened like a door inside his skull. Edward watched his Fathers eyes as they started focusing on something invisible, and Elmore remembered to keep talking, to narrate what he saw, because his son needed to learn how leadership really worked in this world.
“Alright,” Elmore said. “I got two Seat of Power points to spend.”
Edward’s head jerked a little. “Two,” he repeated. “Like two big changes.”
“Yeah,” Elmore said, eyes tracking lines only he could see. “And before you ask, it’s because the throne leveled. Twenty thousand people in my land now, tourism rolling in, industry rolling, dungeon tamed enough to be called ours, and the world watching every time we sneeze. The throne eats all that progress and turns it into options. It’s a damn game menu wearing a crown.”
Edward stared out over the valley, like he could see the weight of that number hanging over roofs. “Everybody’s gonna know whatever you do,” he said.
Elmore snorted. “Everybody already knows too much. You ever notice how fast a clip hits the net now. Somebody in town will be streaming breakfast and catch the wrong thing in the background and next thing you know folks in Europe arguing about my fence line. If this change is visible at all, the world will know in minutes. Tourists alone would spread it like fire.”
He shifted focus again and the Seat of Power pane sharpened. “True Land Ownership is what I’m looking at,” Elmore said. “It only gives me two options. External expansion or internal expansion. External is grabbing more land outside our walls. Internal is changing what I already own inside the border.”
Edward leaned closer like proximity would help. “What does it look like,” he asked, “when you see it. Like is it words or pictures or what.”
Elmore tried to put it into something human. “It’s a map layered over my eyes,” he said. “Not like paper. Like the valley is made of glass and light, and there’s lines drawn where my authority reaches. Icons sitting on top of buildings and roads like pins. Tabs for laws and taxes and structures. When I focus on a thing, it highlights. When I think yes, it asks if I’m sure without saying the words. It’s like the world itself is waiting for me to click a button I can’t explain.”
Edward nodded slowly, chewing on that. “So you can just pick external and grab more land.”
“Could,” Elmore said. “But I ain’t doing that today. I don’t need external land. Not right now. External means more border to defend, more mouths I did not invite, more problems I gotta solve, and I got enough problems. I got no need to reach out. I need to make the inside breathe.”
He let his mind drift off True Land Ownership for a second and checked the other categories, and he said it out loud while he did it so Edward could follow. “I can put points into laws meaning a new immutable rule, and then I can put a point into taxes like taking more from my people. But listen to me, boy, I don’t want another damn tax people openly give most of what they dont need to the community because they all make things practicing anyways we dont need to be greedy. We already got enough to keep the machines running and the hospitals stocked and the walls maintained, and if I start treating my people like a resource to squeeze, I become the kind of ruler I’d put in the ground.”
Edward’s eyes flicked to him, quick and approving. Elmore saw it and kept going.
“And laws,” Elmore said, “I ain’t got some itch to tighten the leash. We got the laws we need. Nobody kills each other. Nobody crosses the house line without my say. Nobody steals. Nobody takes Aither made goods out of my land. That’s enough to keep us from falling apart. I don’t need more rules just to feel in control.”
Edward breathed out, fog puffing from his mouth. “So True Land Ownership.”
“Yeah,” Elmore said, and he felt the grin spread without permission because even thinking about it made him feel like a kid with a new tool. “Internal expansion.”
He focused back on True Land Ownership and the two options lit in his sight, one pushing the border outward, one pushing the space inside the border wider, and he explained it while watching Edward’s face. “External looks like the bubble around the valley getting bigger,” he said. “Internal looks like the bubble stays the same but the inside stretches. It says I can quadruple the surface area without moving the walls. Bigger on the inside than the outside.”
Edward blinked hard. “That’s insane.”
“It’s the right kind of insane.”he corrected
Edward’s mouth opened like he wanted to say ten things at once, but Elmore raised a hand. “Before I hit it, I gotta warn everyone. The throne has an announcement feature button that looks like a microphone in the top left. It ain’t a siren or a screen, It’s my voice in their ears. Everybody hears it, citizens and tourists alike, and they’ll know it’s me the same way you know your own thoughts are yours.”
Edward swallowed, suddenly looking nervous for other people. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah you probably should.”
Elmore accepted the first point. The announcement opened like a channel in his chest and he spoke, not yelling, just talking, and he knew every person in the valley heard it like a voice right beside their head.
“Sit down,” Elmore said, steady and blunt. “Hold onto something solid. Do not panic. I’m making a change to the land. Hydra will tell you when it’s safe to move.”
Edward twitched at the name. Elmore tapped his pocket with two fingers, because his phone was there
“Chief, valley wide alert acknowledged,” Hydra said from the phone. “I am pushing the same instruction to all public speaker towers and to the city intranet. Emergency services are bracing. Structural monitoring is live. Tourist channels are already recording and reposting. Estimated global awareness will occur within five to eight minutes if any visual change is captured.”
Elmore grunted. “Of course it will,” he muttered, then looked at Edward. “See what I mean.”
Edward let out a short laugh that was half nerves. “Yeah.”
Elmore hit confirm.
The first expansion looked like reality deciding it was rubber for a minute, and Elmore felt it through the throne before he saw it through the air, the bones under him humming, the skull seat vibrating like a living thing, and then the valley below began to slide apart in a way that made Elmore’s stomach lurch. Buildings stayed the same size, towers stayed towers, the walls stayed exactly where they were, but the space between everything grew, yards stretching, roads lengthening, tree lines pulling away like hands dragging cloth. Edward grabbed the nearest tusk on instinct, both hands on it, knuckles white, and Elmore reached out without thinking and grabbed Edward’s wrist, not because he needed help but because the boy needed an anchor.
“You good,” Elmore said.
“I’m good,” Edward lied, eyes wide as the creek that cut through the valley swelled and widened and kept widening until it was not a creek at all anymore, it was a real river ribboning through town, water still flowing the same direction, still fed by the same sources, but now it had space to spread and the space appeared because the land itself had multiplied. Trees grew too, in brute scale, trunks thickening, canopies lifting, whole stands of hardwood turning into giants in seconds, and Elmore could already picture the lumber crews losing their minds, because a tree that was good yesterday was a monument today.
Then the Bone Throne started to grow with it, because the Seat of Power always matched the authority it represented, and the ribs under their feet thickened, lengthened, the skull seat swelling larger, and the whole structure rose, lifting them higher above the yard like a slow elevator made of bone. The ribs that had been steps stretched apart getting bigger and farther spaced, like somebody had taken the whole throne and scaled it up without caring about human legs. Edward’s grip on the tusk tightened and Elmore could feel the boy’s pulse through his wrist.
Down at the base of the throne the blackened mass shifted, and Elmore’s eyes cut down in time to see the thousands of human skeletons that had been wedged and stacked in the rib cage for years, Boone and Charleston dead, invaders that had tried to take the valley and paid for it, their bones still smoldering even after all this time like the fire in them never got the memo that the war ended, and as the ribs expanded those remains slid and fell in an ugly cascading collapse, clattering onto the stone base and into the ash piled there, smoke puffing up in lazy gray breaths. The stone platform looked even blacker against the morning fog, and with the rib cage emptied out it did not look clean, it looked hungry, like a mouth with its teeth showing.
From somewhere far off came the distant sound of people yelling, probably not screams of pain, more like shock turning into laughter, and Elmore knew half the valley was outside already because nobody in Lakevail could resist seeing history happen in real time. He also knew tourists would be filming, and the city net would be flashing, and within minutes the whole world would be arguing about what they just saw through shaky video and bad audio, and it made him both proud and annoyed because he could never do anything quietly anymore.
Hydra’s voice came from the phone. “Internal expansion event one is stabilizing. Roads are stretching with minimal fracture. Two older stone houses have hairline cracks. Repair teams are moving. No deaths. Several minor falls. Emergency clinics are responding. Social media live streams are accelerating. External observers will receive footage shortly.”
Edward stared out over the valley like he was watching a dream solidify. “Dad,” he said, and his voice cracked once and then steadied. “How big did you just make it.”
Elmore focused on the invisible readout only he could see and translated it into plain words. “Four times bigger boy” he said.
Edward let out a breath and laughed once, sharp and disbelieving. “This place was already crazy.”
Elmore nodded, eyes narrowing as he felt the land settle, like the valley exhaled after being stretched. “That was point one,” he said. “Now we breathe for a minute. We let folks stand up slow then make sure nobody got a roof collapsed on them. Then we talk about point two.”
Edward looked over at him fast. “You’re doing another one.”
Elmore did not answer immediately because he was watching the reactions ripple through the valley, lights blinking on, people running into yards, some falling to their knees just to touch the ground like they needed proof it was still real, and he could imagine the panic that would have happened anywhere else, but this was Lakevail, these people had lived through wars and monsters and the slow grinding end of the old world, they were hard, and most of them trusted him. He also knew the second time would be worse, not because the act itself was harder but because the math was cruel. Four times, then four times again, and suddenly you were not just making room, you were making a kingdom hidden inside a valley that looked small from the outside.
Elmore opened the announcement channel again, but this time he kept it short, because short was what people needed when adrenaline was high. “Stay where you are,” he said into every ear in the valley. “Look around if you want. Do not start driving yet. Hydra’s having people clear roads and checking structures. Give it a few.”
Edward watched him, then looked down at the phone like he expected Hydra to glare back. “Hydra ain’t gonna like this,” Edward muttered.
Hydra answered anyway because the phone speaker was live. “Chief, I do not mind doing my job aslong as i know what it is before hand.” Hydra said, dry as a textbook. “However, I will note that a second internal expansion immediately following the first will increase the probability of injury due to delayed human reaction time and ongoing structural assessment. If you intend to proceed, I recommend an additional warning and a longer brace period.”
Elmore grunted. “That’s fair go ahead and prepare.” He looked at Edward.
Edward stared out at the widened valley, new distances, new emptiness, new potential. “So your going to do it again,” he said, but he said it quieter than before, like he respected the weight now. “If it’s exponential like you said, then doing it twice makes this place… stupid big.”
Elmore felt a grin tug at his mouth. “Yeah,” he said. “Stupid big. Fifteen square miles turns into sixty after the first. Sixty turns into two hundred forty after the second. That’s the inside footprint of a big city with barely any people in it, like Chicago space with a fraction of the population, and it’s all behind the same damn walls from the outside. And the New River,” he added, eyes tracking the southern cut of the valley where the water ran through his border, “that river is about to turn into a lake so big folks are gonna start talking about boats.”
Edward stared at him. “You’re really doing it.”
Elmore looked down toward the valley, toward all those houses and farms and workshops now spaced farther apart, and he thought, I built this to last, and last means room, it means food, it means industry, it means space to absorb the next disaster without snapping. He nodded once.
“Yeah,” Elmore said. “I’m doing it.”
He waited long enough for Hydra’s teams to confirm the worst spots were stabilized, long enough for the first wave of people to stop stumbling around like drunks in their own yards, long enough that the valley’s shock turned into laughter and shouting and the kind of loud joy that makes you believe in a future for a second. The fog had thinned to pale streamers now and sunlight was cutting through.
He opened the announcement again. “Sit down again,” he said, voice in every ear, firm enough that nobody could pretend they did not hear. “Hold on again. This ain’t over. Do not drive. Do not run. Do not get cute. Hydra will tell you when to move.”
Hydra’s voice came from the phone at the same time, routed into the valley speaker towers too, a layer of machine reassurance for anyone who trusted a calm synthetic tone more than a chief’s command. “Second brace instruction confirmed. All public systems broadcasting.
Medical teams are positioned. Structural monitoring is live. External streams have exceeded previous peak viewership. Global awareness is now confirmed.”
Elmore rolled his eyes even as he felt the seriousness settle in his gut. “Of course it is,” he muttered.
Edward grabbed the tusk with both hands and nodded like a soldier. Elmore slid deeper into the throne seat, felt the bone under him hum, and accepted the second internal expansion.
The second time the world stretched it did not feel like rubber, it felt like the valley was being pulled apart by a giant that did not care about human nerves, and Elmore felt the sheer scale of it in his chest first, a pressure like air changing density, then the land below began to slide again, farther this time, faster in the mind even if the motion was still slow in the eye, because the distances were already bigger and now they were multiplying again. Roads lengthened into long sweeping curves, fields widened into real farmland expanses, forests inside the walls swelled into vast stands, and the trees grew again, most trees having already grown to the size of the Giant sequoia of the red wood forests from the Aither in the environment. After two expansion these trees reach almost a mile into the air . The water changed hardest because water always told the truth about space, and Elmore watched the creek that saw barely any water before turn into a large respectable stream, banks retreating as the channel widened, and as it fed into the New River section that sat inside his border itself began to spread like a living thing, swelling into a titanic lake that took the shape the land gave it, broad and deep blue, still pulling water in and dumping it out like the river remembered its job, now the size of a big lake.
The Bone Throne surged upward again, ribs thickening, skull widening, tusks growing so big Edward’s hands looked small on them, and the drop from the seat to the yard became absurd. The smoldering pile of enemy skeletons at the base shifted again, ash puffing, some bones cracking under their own weight as scale changed around them, and the stone platform beneath them sat like a black altar on a mountain of ash, smoke still leaking from old war dead.
When it finally settled the valley below was was vast, and the walls that once felt like the edge of a kingdom now looked like a far boundary line you could ride for hours and still not touch, a hidden nation with only twenty thousand souls spread thin across all that room, and it made Elmore’s brain spin because leadership was already heavy at fifteen square miles, now it was going to be heavy in a new way, the way that came with managing distance and logistics and growth.
Hydra spoke from the phone, voice steady but quicker now. “Second internal expansion complete. No fatalities. Injuries are limited and being treated. Several infrastructure segments require manual adjustment. I am dispatching crews. Tourist presence is spiking toward the new lake. Security teams are en route to prevent drownings and prevent uncontrolled boat attempts. Global networks are saturated with footage. External thrones are already reacting with little regard most saying they also can do what you did but most don't bother..”
Elmore let out a slow breath through his nose. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Sounds about right.”
Edward stared out over it all with his mouth half open, then he laughed once, breathless, like the laugh was the only thing that kept him from shaking. “Dad,” he said. “This is… this is ridiculous.”
Elmore nodded, eyes still on the valley, and he felt his HUD flicker without him calling it. Elmore felt the moment click in his head that was level ten on his throne.
“Well,” Elmore said, voice low, almost amused. “Looks like i got a new Seat of Power skill.”
Edward snapped his eyes to him. “What is it.”
Elmore read it carefully.
[Clans of the Chief] (LV1): Elmore may designate any willing family or group in his domain as a Clan. While recognized, the Clan gains scaling buffs based on three independently advantageous measures, Cohesion, Prosperity, and level; these measures will improve how well they work, endure, and recover when acting with or for their clan or clan members. Leaving loyalty to Elmore as the only step above Clan Elder.Current Clans :(0/10)
Edward blinked, then his face lit up like somebody struck flint in his skull. “That sounds useful” he said. “Dad that’s like making your own guilds and noble families just themed differently. There is a few groups and families that may look to have that i hope people dont fight over it we get along so well as a unit”
Elmore nodded, still feeling the implications spill out behind his eyes. “It popped because the throne hit level ten overall,” he said. “That’s what it looks like caused it. So crossing level ten unlocks new skills, i wonder if that counts for us also food for thought, but yes sir sounds like politics and i need to get a handle on that skillset eventually.”
Edward’s mind was racing, Elmore could see it in the way his eyes moved like he was reading invisible lists. “You could make the builders a clan,” Edward said fast. “You could make the miners, heavy industry, farmers, doctors thats five right there . That would make everything stronger without forcing competition like unions.”
Elmore smiled, proud and cautious at the same time, because power that touched people’s bonds could heal a nation or poison it if used wrong. “Very sharp young man” he said. “And it’s gonna be useful practice with power structures. But we Elmore’s don’t do shit sloppy, my daddy didn't teach me to half ass shit and i haven’t lived up to that so we do it right. Tomorrow we talk to folks that are de facto leaders and get us both some practice. We make sure it don’t turn into rivalry so we will ignore families for now. A clan in my mind isn’t a trophy, it should be a responsibility.”
Edward nodded hard, still grinning, still a little wild in the eyes from what they had just done. He tightened his grip on the tusk again and finally looked down the ribs, down the absurd drop to the yard below, and his grin faded into a nervous swallow.
“Uh,” Edward said. “Dad. How we getting down thats like two hundred feet.”
Elmore glanced over the edge, then laughed, a deep rough sound, because it was so perfectly on brand for life to hand him godlike authority and then immediately remind him he was still a man sitting on a pile of bones with no stairs that are twenty feet apart. “ well thats more like three hundred feet but either way we ain’t running out of bones,” he said, and he nodded at the ribs, huge and spaced wide, all the way to the ground,
Edward looked at him. “So what.”
Elmore’s grin turned mean playful. “So I’m gonna pick you up like you’re a sack of potatos and I’m gonna hop down this mess. I’ll bounce like an overweight rabbit in overalls.”
Edward’s eyes widened. “Dad, don’t you dare.” as his father lifted and began hoping down the ribs thinking he needs to get this fixed up eventually deciding to wait until they have enough dinosaur bones for stairs thinking it would look cool with the black and white. In this thought he was distracted and took a tumble when his foot hit earth and the grass tour free of the dirt. They rolled to a stop, and as they lay there they hear a few huffs of air looking up to see ditzy tongue out obviously mocking them.
After brushing off the dirt elmore says “ head on inside buddy i need to take care of some things”
Edward will nod after cleaning himself off and say “ all right pops ill see you in the morning ill come up with some other ideas for groups and clans love you”
Elmore smiling “ love you little buddy”
Watching Edward walking off and disappearing behind the now relatively tiny Jenny lin coal mining house from the early 20th century. The moss and rot having stopped growing. Shingles still lay like parchment and hope. fading white paint over over 100 years of patchwork. The place so many of his family have lived now firmly inside the shadow of the pine tree that once sat no more than 6 feet away. After a few minutes looking where only an echo of his boy remained in his mind he turns and walks over to ditzy.
“Hey girl what you gettin into”
The giant dog lifted her tired eyes and let her tongue lul out, perking her lips up into a doggy smile and shook her head.
“I see that but i got an offer for you i dont see anyone else i could offer this to so do you want to be my companion no idea what it will do tho so its up to you”
To his surprise she will glaze over looking to be using a hud just like himself and many other the implications of this not lost on him as she nods her head and the prismatic lightning webs crawl across his vision writing out the notification.
DITZY HAS ACCEPTED THE COMPANION TOKEN
DITZY IS NOW YOUR GUARDIAN HOUND
[GUARDIAN HOUND]
A companion to anyone long lived and territorial. This companion will remain ageless within lands they are a GUARDIAN of. If slain she will be born again and find their way back to their territory as long as their master remains.
At this announcement he will see no other effect and just lean in and hug her “i guess were in this for the long haul huh girl.” stepping back “i will leave you to it i have other stuff to do love you girl” scratching her chin he walks into his home and after greeting his wife he makes his way to his computer and sits down opening his hud to finally spend his points before getting his new clans in order.
Level 7: Elmore
Level 8: Chief
- Strength: 20/70
- Endurance: 10/70
- Dexterity: 10/70
- Agility: 10/70
- Intelligence: 60/70
- Resistance: 13/70
- Vitality: 20/70
- Aither: 30/70
Points Available: 20
Looking over his stats he thinks it over and realizes he needs an advantage outside just his intelligence, knowing next level he will bring it up to 80, and knowing he may get help from being smarter than he is now but also realizing he plainly needs another strength past what he has now beyond just his mind. Thinking it through he realizes his body is far above most but knowing he needs something to rely on past just that
First he is far stronger than most already and a little more could be nice but for now he just doesnt need it
Endurance may be handy but he is already at a normal person's peak and it would be great but he doesn't think it needs priority.
Dexterity is just fun and could be very handy in close quarter combat but knowing what's in the dungeon and the skills in the world being so varied precision of movement may not be the life line he needs.
Now agility is a thought with his size being faster can definitely help with survivability and force as if he gets in a fight strength and speed go into hits and on that he puts it in the maybe department.
Resistance really sounds helpful until he remembered Frank and knowing when he needs it the most he just will not have the points to save him, sadly putting it for another time if ever.
Vitality is definitely more in line with his fighting style he may not resist the damage but if he can just take more hits and keep going that is what he has done so far and the faster healing feels like it saved him against twilight and would most likely keep doing so deciding it is a definite for some points.
Lastly Aither and with it so high already and knowing his intelligence lets him increase it makes him think he doesn't need it but thinking about how little he knows about all it could do and what it can do boosting his other stats is just the gamble he thinks will save his life.
After a moment he just splits his points between them bringing vitality up to 30 and Aither up to 40 and immediately feeling the change and it is even less pleasant than last time. His heart pounds and an itch spreads across his body feeling like hives as he keels over and starts vomiting colors ranging from yellow to red into his desk trashcan. Every vein in his body thumping and watching his scars vanish along with what was left of his stretch marks, wrinkles fade and grey pulls away, his vision and hearing sharpening to overwhelming levels along with the taste of the bile spilling from his lips as he is hit with a pressure in his mind soul and ego all the same filling him with what can only feel like more of himself and energy all the same leaving him to shake on the floor in a cold sweat and passing out.