Hell Difficulty Tutorial - Beyond Death

Of course, there is a stream less than five minutes away from where I crawled out of the dirt. Naturally. Why wouldn't there be? It's not like I had to drink goblin smoothie and spend my precious gear choice just to get water or anything...

The stream is small but lively, threading its way through the forest floor like a thin, shimmering ribbon of silver. Sunlight dances on its surface, and it burbles softly, a sound so peaceful that it almost feels like an insult to my battered, stitched-together body.

I scan the area briefly.

Just trees and underbrush, rustling with the occasional whisper of the wind. Nothing alarming. With a shrug, I crouch by the edge of the stream and carefully dip my only hand into the cool, clear water. It trickles through my fingers as I bring a small handful to my mouth.

The taste is clean. I pause, waiting a moment to see if I'll drop dead.

Hmm...

No burning sensation in my throat, no stomach cramps. So far, so good.

As I wait to see if the water is poisoned or not, I let my eyes wander, taking in the scenery. The rustling leaves are a strange kind of background music, lacking the song of birds and the chittering of insects. I can't quite decide if it's eerie or soothing.

Then I feel it—a faint tickle at the edge of my awareness, like the brush of a feather against my mind. My head snaps to the side, and there it is.

A deer.

It stands maybe twenty feet away, partially hidden among the trees. Its sleek coat is a rich brown that darkens toward its legs, and its ears twitch at every sound. Wide, liquid eyes stare back at me, filled with that curious mix of caution and innocence only prey animals seem to have.

[Deer - Lvl 1]

The moment our eyes meet, it bolts, hooves thundering softly against the earth as it vanishes into the underbrush.

"Damn," I mutter, watching it go. Honestly, I'm relieved. As tempting as food might be, the idea of killing something so painfully adorable just to eat it makes my stomach churn more than the thought of only eating raw goblin meat for a month. Hell, I'd probably eat Jim's corpse before I'd lay a finger on that deer.

I can't help but grin.

"I'll catch you one day," I vow under my breath. "And when I do, I'm going to pet the hell out of you."

The deer, of course, is long gone, oblivious to my declaration.

I glance back down at the stream, watching the water ripple and sparkle under the twin suns. It seems poison-less enough, and honestly, even if it isn't, I'll take my chances.

I cup my hand again and drink greedily, letting the cool liquid spill down my throat in messy gulps. I also fill my bucket which had been partly depleted.

When I've had my fill, I pause, savoring the sharp chill that lingers.

Then, without much thought, I lower myself into the stream. The shock of the cold hits me like a slap, but damn if it doesn't feel incredible. The water barely reaches my knees, but it's enough. Enough to scrub off the grime, the dried blood, and the reek of death clinging to me.

I don't bother removing the GMKS0 (goblin makeshift suit 0). Getting it off would be more effort than it's worth—but I do peel away the goblin skin I've used as a covering. The leather-like layers are stiff and greasy, but I work them free until I can reach my actual skin.

Clothes? Never heard of them. This is the Garden of Eden as far as I'm concerned, at least until I find another survivor I can borrow stuff from.

My hand works in rhythmic scrubbing motions, dragging through layers of muck and dried gore. The water darkens around me as the filth sloughs off, swirling downstream in ugly ribbons.

It doesn't bother me. Not the mess, not the cold, not even the fact that I'm essentially marinating in a soup of my own filth. That's the very definition of a bath.

But the voices are restless. I am far too vulnerable right now, after all. A Goblin Shaman could 360 no-scope me and that would be game over.

With one last rinse, I push myself upright, the cold stream water dripping from flesh and pooling at my feet. My reconstructed legs tremble slightly under the weight, but I seize control of them, flexing the sinew and cartilage I've stitched together.

"Move," I mutter to myself, forcing each step to obey me. My balance wavers, but I steady it easily enough.

As I take a deep breath, the bloating sensation in my chest flares again, sharp and insistent. I grimace, pressing a hand to my ribs out of reflex, though I already know there's nothing physical causing it.

Flesh Perception confirms it. No organs swelling, no clots, no trapped air. This isn't a physical problem.

No, it's something else. Most likely tied to the souls I've been absorbing.

Could the Soul Well be full? That's the only explanation that makes sense, though I can't say for sure. The system is about as helpful as a brick to the face when it comes to sparing information, it seems.

What happens when the Well overflows though? Do I risk bursting like an overstuffed sack?

Is this just another stepping stone in the long, winding road of 'figure it out as you go'?

Reason dictates that I need answers, and I need them yesterday.

I sigh, rolling my shoulders as I take another step. "Well then," I mutter under my breath, the faintest smirk tugging at my lips. "Let's prepare"