Stayin' alive

Ah, a world of sword and sorcery. Magic, dungeons, monsters. How fun. Well you're wrong. Absolutely wrong! The sword is an overused weapon and easily outclassed by skills, even though my mana pool is larger than anybody I've ever met I'm still incapable of magic, the dungeons are just there to boost tourism. Can you still die in them? Yes. But that just adds to the experience.

Monsters aren't much fun either. The kingdom of Eza(lands of/kingdom of) lia(angels) has nary a dragon. Let alone a dragon anywhere close to my level. I don't even get nice companions. I met them the third time I ever trusted anyone. I got told there would be a meteor hitting somewhere near the Ezalian border.

Unfortunately that meteor contained some heir to a kingdom in the sky. Solas, he called himself. Solas Soleil. Son of Ra, the guiding light. A god of the twenty-ninth generation. Said he remembered the world being deserts and sand. He was either delusional or from another world. And it was quite clear he had a few screws loose.

The final member of my generation was there too, Vulpes is what he called himself. Just for some relaxation. Pure coincidence. We all got into a fight and destroyed the land nearby bad enough that I started to think Solas' description of the world was right.

Why am I telling you this? Because I've got nothing better to do. I had been reduced to a puddle of flesh coloured goop on the ground after a small altercation. Another reason why a magical world is just a fantasy. Try to start a group with charisma and they end up calling you "my lord" and "he who moves us" after a month. Even worse if one of the high ranking members became the pseudo leader and tried to capture you. Gods... sorry. Me, she's terrifying.

How was I alive as a puddle? Why, I'm a perfect being. After many years of experimentation, I became the pinnacle of living things. My perfect form couldn't be destroyed by anyone. Which hurts to say now that a mortal destroyed it. But, I've already forgotten their face so it practically didn't happen.

My goopy self begins spinning. And then rising. And then forming into the shape of a person. I'm wearing a cloak over my usual clothes and a mask to cover my face. Half white, half gold. Small eyes drawn on.

I was supposed to be going to the my generations weekly meeting spot. Well, I say meeting but it's more like a big arena. We all have a weekly fight. Make sure nobody gets rusty.

Anyway, back to the main subject. Who goopified me. The answer? Some journalist. Detective types, me and them just don't work. My whole public image is being secretive after all. Any information would damage my reputation.

But I did know this one weird trick to find him. You see, whenever I go to sleep. I usually wake up in a place I want to be. No idea why. So I layed back down on the ground and passed out.

To little surprise, I had awoken at the entrance to a large building. Looked like an inn. Large sign out front, big picture of a mug, lots of shouting fron the inside. It made sense why he'd be there.

I entered immediately, the noise didn't stop. The sounds of arguments, conversations and music all blended together into one unintelligible noise.

I sat down at the bar

"Have you seen anybody come through here by the name 'Holmes'?"

I asked.

They shook their head. So I gave them a little nudge. A technique I'd learnt quite early in my research. Just like the body, the soul also responds to threats. Like how you'd instinctively recoil when touching a hot object. The soul works similarly. You just need to apply a small amount of pressure to it.

Poor bartender didn't know what hit him. Well, neither did I. I understand the principles behind the technique, but not why the soul reacts like that. He spilled everything. Even stuff I really didn't want to know. But I got my information. Just up the stairs first door to the left. Coincidentally right above where I was.

I walked up the stairs and knocked on the door.

"Knock knock"

I said.

"Who's there"

A voice replied.

It was harsh and raspy. From the voice I could tell he was at least over fifty.

Another thing, skills. While every person is born with them, most people get very unique ones. Like me. The ones you're born with are called Inherent skills. My inherent skill, Construct, lets me shoot a golden liquid from my body that can harden on command. Incredibly versatile.

I stood there, silently for a second. Preparing a handful of throwing knives with construct. Waiting until I heard him stand up. He eventually did and got closer to the door.

"Hello, who-"

He said.

I immediately threw one knife at him, he caught it mid-air and tried to throw it back. I threw the second and third at his leg to draw attention away from my real target, the neck. He swiftly bent down to grab the second one when I flung the third into him.

When it should've hit him, instead of going straight through him it made a clang sound. Like metal smashing together. I threw a few more but to the same results.

"Huh, Clams? How the hell are you still alive?"

He asked.

"Stop asking questions, Holmes. A dead man doesn't need an answer"

I replied.

The smoke cleared and I saw what he was holding...

Nothing. No weapons, no nothing. He had brass knuckles on one hand but that was it.

"No, I need an answer."

He urged.

"To what?"

I responded.

"How'd you survive that? You were a puddle. That should've killed you"

I laughed

"Theoretically, yes. But, I'm different in practice"

I created a pair of gauntlets with construct and launched myself at him. I nearly got the jump on him when his entire body jolted around and blocked me. He did seem to be struggling. He was shaking after each blow.

"Judging by the way your body is moving, coupled with the fact that you clearly can't take these attacks... you have some kind of auto defense skill. Don't you?"

I said.

"Blocking, to be precise. Never did me any good in this line of work. With an eye as good as yours, I'm surprised I'm the detective."

He replied.

With that comment, I walked up to him and grabbed him by the throat. He did try and block. He tried to grab my hand. But I may have been a bit to riled up to control myself from snapping it off.

"What the hell!"

He gasped.

"This is penance for the comment about my eyes."

I answered.

"You can't just get angry at me without telling me wh-"

He said before I headbutted him.

His hand tried to block me. But the damage from it earlier was too severe. I barely classed as attached. From he looks of it, he didn't have any control over it. It just flopped into my head. Like trying to block a bullet with a bit of paper.

I finally let go of him. His body slumped to the floor.

"Good shot"

He tried to laugh.

"I believe the correct word is per-"

I said.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it perfect. What's the deal with that? It's not a class. Just a you thing?"

He asked.

After politely waiting for him to finish his interruption, I politely interupted his ability to breathe by kicking him in the ribs. The sound, it was like glass. Beautiful.

"It IS a class... just not an official one"

I answered.

He answered after a second of coughing.

"Liar. What could it even do?"

"A lot of things!"

"Like what? Your version seems very... unique"

"It, uh, hmmm. Souls! Thats it. You merge your physical body with your soul. You lose the need for a human form."

"Any other ways of doing that?"

"No... maybe we should widen the definition a bit. How about 'somebody who merges their body with something'?"

"Sounds decent"

At that time, it hit me. Why was I conversing with such an imperfect creatures as a dead man. But he posed a decent conversation. What's more, he helped me come up with a good description of the perfectionist class.

"You were a good talker, have any last words?"

I asked.

"Not really"

He said.

"Nobody you want to speak to before you die? I can guarantee they'll get your message"

"Just one, for you. Learn some empathy. If you had a bit... maybe in another dimension, we could've met on better terms. We might have even become frien-"

"Believing in other dimensions at your age? Aren't people supposed to get wiser as they get old?"

I laughed.

"Not letting a dying old man have his last words at your age."

He sighed. I sat down mext to him.

"You wanna do it yourself?"

I asked.

"What do you mean?"

He asked back.

"I could make you something to end it with. If you're the honourable type. I won't stop you."

I answered.

"I'm fine. It isn't that bad yet."

He laughed a bit more and slumped over.

"Holmes?"

I asked, but nobody answered.

"Already..."

I sighed.

I reached over and raised his head towards me. Unfortunately, just as the light left his eyes.

I dropped his head.

"It's parallel worlds. Not dimensions."

I said, waiting for him to answer.

"And... I'm older than you"

I said again. But to no response.

I sighed and weighed my options. I could do what I came here for, or I could do what I wanted on a whim. But I chose reason. I skimmed over what he had written about me on his desk.

A lot of very detailed things about me. For a while I was considering completely erasing my identify from the world. Dissapear for a bit. And after getting vaporised by a certain somebody, I was feeling more resolved to dissapear than ever.

If any of that ever got into her hands, I'd be less than a puddle.

After looking over his file on me, i raised my hand and said

"Fire"

My hand sparked and a miniscule flame appeared for a second before fizzing out. I tried again but to no avail. So I assumed direct control of every molecule in my body and vibrated them at high speeds until it was hot enough. Unfortunately, this didn't start a fire as I had hoped. But melted the desk and left me scrambling to close the window because my arm evaporated.

So I resorted to putting them into a bin on the way out.

And with that being that, I made my way to the meeting place. I had a good rest when I got there.

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