Reborn as a Book: The [TBD] [ERROR] of the… System’s Pre-Integration Testing?

Alrighty then! We have Adaptive Formatting and Rumor Dungeon as our winners! This is going to be an interesting little tidbit. New party member. Fun new skill, and experiencing a dungeon... as a book!

Jan 19, 2025 at 11:00 PM Until Next Chapter

As they all sat down to dinner, and got to know their new party member, I got to work devouring the new book. After some pleasantry hellos to Asher, of course.

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Oh no. He got me a text book. I felt the title written across my page in mounting horror. I have been enjoying the reading so far, but everything has been mostly fantastical up to this point. But this, this sounded like something an engineer would study. Sure, I had been in university when all this happened, but I had been going for cultural sciences.

On the other page, it was about magic. And I had promised Cuttle that I would accrue and maintain information. Plus, it had been a gift, I didn't want to be rude. Oh, and maybe this stuff could be useful to Asher, what with wanting to understand magic and what not. I'm pretty sure engineers don't program, but it might have some neat tips, right? With that, I began to read.

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A spell is not unlike a mechanical construct. When one piece fails, the entire mechanism falters. A fireball cast with an inefficient weave bleeds energy unnecessarily—why waste 18% of your mana when proper sigil reinforcement can bring that down to a precise 12.4%? A flying carpet that wobbles in the air is not malfunctioning due to a 'temperamental' enchantment; rather, the stabilization glyphs are misaligned by a fraction of an inch, creating inconsistent lift differentials.

The solution is not to accept inefficiencies but to refine the structure. Break down the components, reorient them for maximum effectiveness, and let the spellwork serve its intended purpose without excess strain. The most skilled mages are not those who wield the greatest raw power, but those who make every thread of mana count.

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Wow. I mean, wow. It definitely was a text book, but something about it was just so simple to read. It was easy and even a little fun. I didn't mentally retain all the knowledge, but it was just so simple to recall. Even using Infinite Pages, it felt so easy to shift around and pull up what I was looking for.

Skill Unlocked
Adaptive Formatting

Mana: 805/805 (824)
Experience: 7.14/100

Oh. I like that book.

I must've finished Echoing not too long before the others started waking up. I was shuffled around a few times—yep, good morning to you too, mysterious hands—before finally being placed on a flat surface and opened.

"Good morning to you, Nakia."

The words appeared across my pages, but something was different. No tap-tap-tap of a utensil, and the handwriting was familiar but not quite the same as yesterday. Still, I knew this one—I'd written with Hapa before.

"Good morning, Hapa. Ready for the dungeon today?"

There was a pause before his response, like he was thinking something over. "Yes, though I do wish we knew more about it. From what Urchin has learned, it was supposedly pretty formidable a few Initiations back. But now it's considered underwhelming to the point where the locals barely mention it, except to the occasional beginner group."

I mulled that over for a moment. "Seems like a good thing when we've got a new party member with not only unknown capabilities but unknown powers in general?"

"I suppose that is fair."

There was another pause—shorter this time—before I felt Hapa shift, his attention being pulled away by someone else. "We are heading out. You'll be with me, and I will check in every so often to keep you updated and see what you have to say."

I hummed happily in my void. "Thanks, Hapa. I'm looking forward to it." Then, before he could close me, I added, "Oh! And thank you for the book! It was interesting!"

---

It is often said that time softens even the sharpest of dangers, that what was once fearsome may, in the absence of challenge, grow tame. So it was with this dungeon, a place whispered of as a mere shadow of its former self—an unremarkable ruin hidden behind the gentle veil of a waterfall, its entrance tucked away in a sandy alcove.

Once, this dungeon had been feared. Now, this one was a picnic spot.

The entrance itself was nothing more than a fissure in the rock, winding downward into the unknown. The party moved carefully, each step slow and deliberate. Cuttle and Urchin led the way, their sharp eyes scanning the darkness ahead. Asher, the newcomer, followed in their wake, while Hapa, ever the watchful guide, took up the rear—and with him, he carried the book.

The stairway was worn from years of passage, its descent slow and deep. As shadows threatened to consume their sight, Hapa spoke soft words, and the darkness receded. With vision restored, they pressed on, their steps echoing in the silence.

At last, the stairs ended, spilling them into a vast cavern filled with an eerie, alien glow. Luminous plants clung to the walls and ceilings, their soft light casting the chamber in an otherworldly hue. Yet none of them matched any knowledge held within the book's pages.

And there, at the cavern's far side, carved into the very stone, stood the remnants of a temple.

Time had not been kind to the ruin; its structure was battered, its purpose long forgotten. Even as the party advanced, no threats rose to meet them. Only silence.

It was Urchin who noticed them first—the small, waddling forms of creatures nestled among the temple's overgrowth. At first glance, they seemed no more than fungi, squat and harmless. But as the party neared, they crouched low, their caps pressing against the ground, shielding their fragile bodies from prying hands.

At last, the explorers pressed into the temple itself. Its chambers were sparse, hollow, empty echoes of whatever had once thrived within. In the grand hall, a lone chest rested upon the dais, untouched by time. Within it, a scattering of coins—a minor treasure, swiftly pocketed, their value to be weighed later.

And then, Cuttle noticed it.

What they had thought to be a moss-covered stone at the edge of the room was no stone at all. It moved.

A shadow unfurled, legs shifting, clicking softly against the temple floor. What lay before them was a Boulder Spider, a creature of cunning deception. Found most often in rocky terrain, it had perfected the art of stillness, waiting for the unwary to step too close—waiting to strike.

This was its domain. And it had found its prey.

But the adventurers did not falter. Cuttle and Urchin rushed forward, drawing its attention, their movements fluid, practiced. Hapa stood firm, his voice steady as he guided Asher through the moment. Where to aim. When to strike.

The young Mage hesitated—but only for a breath. Then, a flicker of light, a spark of energy. Electricity arced through the air. A minor spell, yet powerful enough to force the beast back. It reeled, its disguise shattered.

Urchin took the opening. A swift movement. A final strike.

The spider fell, its form crumbling into the dust.

Beyond the main chamber, more of its kin lurked, though these were but small things, no larger than a Rust-Tail Brushfox. They were dealt with swiftly.

And then, Cuttle found a secret.

A false stone, set into the wall, hiding a modest hoard of forgotten treasure. Perhaps untouched, for none had deemed this place worthy of plundering. A small windfall, a quiet reward for those who dared to look deeper.

Their task was done. The temple yielded no further secrets.

And so, they turned to leave.

But as they stepped through the main hall, it happened.

From below, from the depths where none had tread, a mossy-grey rhythm began to rise.

It drifted through the void, a whispering chant reverberating throughout.

A presence unseen. A voice unheard.

Something older stirred beneath the temple.




Majority Vote, Limited Approval (2)
[ ] Alert the Party and Investigate Immediately
[ ] Alert the Party and Leave to Plan
[ ] Don't Tell Anyone, Try to Find Out More on Your Own
[ ] Write In

Jan 21, 2025 at 11:00 PM Until Vote Closes

I think this one was pretty decisive. Narrowed it down to 2 options, and they were fairly close. Not neck-and-neck, but close. I like it! Time to Dungeon!

Jan 22, 2025 at 11:00 PM Until Next Chapter

The Descent into the Obyss

With trepidation, the adventurers retraced their steps, their fingers running along the worn stone walls, seeking something—anything—that might reveal a path below. The whisper of an ancient presence lingered in the air, a weight upon their shoulders, urging them forward.

It was Asher who found it.

A series of worn symbols, etched into the base of the pulpit's wall, hidden by time's embrace. Symbols that did not belong to the temple above but to something older, something buried beneath. She traced them lightly, her fingers trembling as she recognized their significance—not just decoration, but instruction. With a pulse of unseen force, the wall groaned, and with a slow, grinding shudder, it yielded to her touch.

A hidden passage lay before them, leading into the depths below.

And so, they descended.

The stairway wound downward, its walls pressing in, its shadows whispering at their backs. The air grew colder, the very atmosphere thickening with each step. The torches flickered, fighting against the encroaching void, their flames dimming as though fearful of what lay ahead.

Then, at last, they reached the chamber.

It was vast, a cavern of endless dark, its ceiling unseen, its edges devoured by shadow. And in its center, towering and unmoving, stood a black obelisk. A single circle of pale light, descending from an unseen source above, illuminated the ground before it. The moment their feet crossed into the circle, a shudder ran through the walls.

A voice without a voice echoed in their bones:

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Behind them, the passage sealed shut, stone grinding against stone with an ominous finality. There was no turning back. No retreat.

Only descent.

The darkness watched. And then, it moved.

From the cracks and corners of the chamber, from the very walls themselves, shadows stirred, creeping forward like a tide of living night. Clawed fingers and sharp fangs formed out of the void—but no eyes, no features to betray malice or reason. Only hunger.

The horde leapt.

Silence was their war cry. Death was their intent.

Steel flashed, fists struck, and magic crackled through the air. Urchin met the onslaught head-on, his claws rending the creatures apart, tearing into them as though they were nothing more than fabric to be shredded. Cuttle moved with precision, catching the very light in his hands, wielding it like a blade to carve through the dark. Asher stood her ground, sweat pouring down her face, sigils of power forming at her fingertips—desperate walls against the tide of oblivion.

But the shadows were relentless. They did not retreat, did not falter. The light above them wavered, shrinking under the force of their assault.

And in the midst of the chaos, Hapa watched. He searched. He understood.

His gaze snapped to the obelisk, its ancient surface covered in unreadable runes. The truth of the dungeon was clear: this was the key.

But he could not decipher it.

Desperation mounting, Hapa reached for the book. The worn tome he had carried through the ruins above, the one that had spoken to him, guided him. He flipped through the pages, seeking—hoping.

Then, the chamber shivered.

Tendrils of red and black light uncoiled from the obelisk, slithering through the air like living ink. They stretched toward the adventurers—reaching, grasping—until they touched the book's surface.

A screech split the void. Words cracked themselves across the pages, violent and unbidden. And suddenly, Hapa understood.

With pain in his eyes, he looked to his companions.

Urchin tore through the horde, his movements savage and unyielding. Cuttle struck with holy fire, dispelling the creatures with each devastating blow. Asher—young, untested, but fierce—stood her ground, magic forming and reforming in her hands as she held the darkness at bay.

And then, Hapa began to chant.

The first syllable was like a strike of lightning in the void.

The darkness screamed.

It raged.

The horde's attack redoubled, as though the words themselves were a provocation. Their circle of light shrank further, barely clinging to existence.

Heeding the signs, the trio closed ranks around Hapa, guarding him as he spoke. His voice rang clear in the abyss, syllables of power filling the chamber, vibrating through the walls, through their bones, through the very air.

The light above flickered.

The darkness clawed its way upward, seeking to devour the last vestiges of illumination.

The light wavered. It dimmed.

It was almost gone.

But Hapa's chant reached its crescendo.

The obelisk answered.

A surge of crimson radiance exploded outward, swallowing the chamber in a tide of burning light.

The darkness recoiled. It shuddered. It screamed.

The shadowed figures dissolved, unraveling like mist caught in the morning sun. The chamber trembled, the runes upon the obelisk erased in a final, blinding pulse of power.

Silence fell.

The adventurers stood, breathing heavily, victorious.

Then—light, pure and untainted, flared around them.

A single, powerful pulse.

It enveloped them in its embrace, and for an instant, the world ceased to exist.

When sight returned, each of them lay upon the soft, damp earth, the sound of water trickling nearby.

A small pool, fed by a gentle waterfall.

And beside them, scattered upon the ground, lay a hoard of treasure.

A reward, earned in blood and light.

The Dungeon of the Obyss had tested them.

And they had prevailed.

…

Something had… happened.

But what?

A dull ache pulsed through my void, an unsettling, lingering sensation I couldn't quite place. And for a moment—a single, terrifying moment—I was alone.

The rhythms were gone.

The silence stretched, suffocating and vast, pressing in like an ocean with no shore. It was—

Then, suddenly, they returned.

Relief surged through me as familiar rhythms trickled back into my void, chasing away the hollow emptiness that had filled it. The ache didn't fade completely, but it softened, soothed by their presence.

'Khalasna ba'a! It is so nice to see you guys again! Oh, and we have some guests?'

I relished the presence of my friends—Wildlife and Wanderer's, Ironwood and Beasts—the steady, familiar patterns weaving through my center. But alongside them, new rhythms curled inward, blending and twisting into the space about me.

The moments ticked by, and with each passing second, the dread slunk away, shrinking into a memory that didn't quite feel real.

I was back. I was fine.

I took a moment to steady myself, focusing on what I could feel.

A flat, solid surface. 'Alright, not being carried.' Not what I recalled. .

I was closed. 'Also not what I remember.'

Had I… 'fallen asleep? Wait. I thought I didn't do that.'

The last thing I remembered was Hapa telling me about Boulder Spiders. Where even were they now? 'Did we leave the dungeon?'

And—oh!—those mushroom things! 'I would love to know more about those. I wonder if anyone recognized them.'

"Helloooo! Anyone there? I want to know what happened!"




Majority Vote, No Approval
[ ] Investigate the Rhythms
[ ] Try and Recall What Happened
[ ] Experiment With Adaptive Formatting
[ ] Write In, What Screams Out to You

Jan 23, 2025 at 11:00 PM Until Vote Close