[ NEW COMMON CORE PASSIVE: GAS BREATHING — EFFECT 1: BREATHE COMFORTABLY IN ANY GAS AS THOUGH IT WERE NORMAL AIR — EFFECT 2: BREATH CAN NOW BE HELD IN ALL GAS WITH THE EASE OF NORMAL AIR — EFFECT 3: INCREASES PULMONARY FUNCTION BASED ON CONTROL S.T.A.T. RESTRICTION: ALL OTHER GAS OVER-TIME EFFECTS STILL APPLY — TILT SCALING: CONTROL ]

  There was a pillar in the center of the square room. Directly in front of and to its left were pillar-shaped indents in the floor. A third diagonally-placed groove completed the square. But there was no way to get to that one.

  Jessica the Racist Human Stone Kicker tried moving it into the left groove. But the pilar just slid right back where it started.

  The crowd jeered. “You don’t think we tried that?!”

  She did the same thing again, only in the other cardinal direction.

  The crowd booed. “That too, you fat idiot!”

  What a mean thing to say. The Racist felt like she would cry. That led to a memory. A flashback. A balance beam. A revelation.

  In a character-moment-fueled bout of inspiration, she tried moving the pillar diagonally from its origin point, over the gap between indents, even though it was smaller than the pillar itself.

  The crowd went silent except for that one guy again. “Impossible…”

  Sliding into place, the third groove sounded like the epicenter of a distinctly bitcrushed, extremely localized earthquake. The ground around the pillar trembled as it moved. A less intrusive rumble accompanied the it fully sinking into the floor to reveal the treasure chest on top.

  The crowd gasped and spoke as one. “We can’t believe we never thought of jumping!”

  Jessica opened the treasure chest.

  The voice yelled in her ear again. “YOU GOT… 1 ATOMIC STONE!!!”

  Appearing in her hand, the entire crowd ran screaming as soon as her skin made contact.

  The Stone Kicker waved it around placatingly, taking a step forward to assure them that she’d never be anything but careful with such a volatile weapon of mass destruction. But then she tripped over a pipe.

  Immediately noticing the signature color of a clear moonlit sky, I let out a deep, well-rested groan as I roll over and check my System clock.

  I could’ve done that without rolling over. But I’m not exactly in bed to be efficient.

  Yet, it’s apparently only been three hours since I went under. And now… Fuck, I’m not getting back to sleep, am I?

  I couldn’t sleep last night either. Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem one way or another. Not like I’ve got somewhere to be. No school. No job. No nothing. So who cares about sleep? Not me, normally. A lifetime of late-school-night-early-morning bedtimes can attest to that. But maintaining a weird sleep schedule doesn’t quite work in a group that wants to move within an hour of the rest of them waking up. ‘The Morning’, they call it.

  When I complained about it yesterday, Ross met my bewildered indignation by accusing my diamond shoes of being too tight. Just because I bitched about not being able to sleep thanks to my new ‘respawn-skipping power’.

  And now, here I am. No trace of any alleged ‘morning’ in sight, and fully awake after objectively not enough sleep. God damn it, I feel great. “Fuck my life…”

  Mich lets out a groggy groan from his bed. “Wha-” Then he catches sight of how clearly frustrated I am in mine, sitting cross-legged while cursing the time, Admins, fate, Oneshot, and whatever else I can think to blame this on.

  After watching today’s episode of Jessie Kicks Herself for a while, Mich resolves to just find out what’s keeping him awake and hopefully put a stop to it. “You really confronted all that trauma right away?” Or not.

  I blink at that. Then I hold my breath to think it through for several minutes. Nope…No idea what the fuck he’s talking about. “Heh?”

  Mich apparently can’t help hedging a bit at first even though he’s the one who brought it up. “Well…”

  But he soon gets past it. “When I arrived in Purgatory, I went through the whole character creation process. Afterwards, I got that Mod Stone I mentioned. And then people tried to rob me. And then they failed. And then I took a walk. And then, two days later, I got tired. And then I searched for civilization. And then I found it. And then I sat on a bench. And then I talked to Sennefer. And then, and only then, did everything hit me like a truck.”

  Mich shivers despite both his comforter and air conditioning. “That was hard… Still is, in fact. Even if it does get easier with time. But I can’t stop thinking about… You really did it all up front as soon as you got to Purgatory?”

  Oh. That. I mentioned it a few times here and there. Only I did not, in fact, do ‘it all’ upfront. The hardest part was in that inn after Oneshot… But that’s quibbling. And I don’t want to talk about the inn, so…

  He sighs at my lack of correction. “Look, I’m sorry for dumping a diatribe on you in the middle of the night. I guess if I boiled it all down to a single question, it’d have to be this…” Resting chin on folded hands, Mich leans towards me across the giant-clover-filled gap between our beds. “How, precisely, did you manage to deal with it all so fast?” But he immediately waves his hands in negation. “No, no, that’s not right either… How to phrase this..? What was going through your head during all that?”

  Shrugging, I explain the whole thing. “First off, I don’t know about ‘fast’. I just laid there in the grass for like three days.” Not like I was trying to hide any of this…

  So, for what is nonetheless the first time, I begin to relive that whole fugue state. What I remember of them, anyway.

  Except it almost immediately devolves into stream-of-consciousness rambling. “But really, I just kind of collapsed on the ground as soon as I realized I didn’t have a timer. Or, I mean, I did… And I was very conscious of the button that would kill me for good if I pressed it. But knowing what you said about intent and willpower and all that… Would it have even let me go?”

  I look directly into Mich’s eyes for another objective second. “Actually, I think it would. For you? No. You would’ve been safe in my position. Same as most people, I bet.” I look down at my own open palms. “But for me? I think it would’ve kicked me out.” I grimace. “This… This game-”

  My breath catches as I wince. I kinda felt like I’d be struck down by a divine retribution just for saying that. But no. Even the Admin called it that, didn’t she? And if even that was okay… Well, whatever.

  In real time, I continue speaking almost as soon as I stopped. “The Gamesphere has never worked for me the way it does for you guys. It doesn’t do what I want and I feel like I’m fighting it every step of the way. Especially now. I…” I swallow through a suddenly dry throat. “I wanna fix that though. I can take a Skill that lets me-” No. “-makes me assign callouts to every Skill I use. Not the Passives of course. Really just the Actions. And the Toggles. Blessings too…”

  I’m starting to get more than a little flustered, even with what might as well be infinite time between breaths to calm down. “I’m not asking for your permission or anything. But if you…” I eye the other two party members asleep in their own beds. “If you guys would be really bothered by me yelling all my attacks by name as I do them… I think I can at least wait until we get to Central so you don’t have to deal with it. I know none of you… Signed up… For…”

  Mich just stares with more and more incredulity by the second. “Well that got wildly off-topic very slowly. But this is clearly bothering you. If it’s truly what you want, the last thing I’d wish is for my own annoyance to stand in the way of your personal development. Same goes for Ross and Rachel.”

  A half-groan-half-grunt can be heard from somewhere nearby. But there’s no movement.

  Except from Mich, who shrugs with plain discomfort. “I can’t guarantee everyone will be thrilled by you screaming constantly in the middle of every fight. But that’s what they are. fights. It’s inherently not something you do to make other people comfortable. And besides… This has something to do with your new Respawn-Skip Breathing, I take it?”

  “Yeah. You saw me in that last dungeon, right? I just kept throwing out Skill after Skill after Skill nonstop until my MP was gone. The way it is now, if I even think of one, the System seems to automatically interpret that as me wanting to use it. Like, I’m pretty sure the fact that I didn’t Dash just now is purely thanks to the fact that Blessings don’t work in bed. The rest of it, I feel like I’m getting used to. I don’t know about you, but I just can’t purposely not think about stuff. Not that I haven’t tried. And not just for the last few days either. My entire life, overthinking has been kind of my thing.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “You’re getting better at the whole ‘speaking normally’ thing by the way.”

  Despite myself, I perk up at that. “Seriously?”

  He nods. “You barely even sounded like a chipmunk on cocaine at all just then.”

  I mumble-grumble sarcastically. “Great, thanks.”

  Mich chuckles at my clear discomfort over being complimented, no matter how backhandedly. “Look, kid. This whole time, I’ve never stopped telling you to do what you want. Good, bad or ugly, your path is your own. Even when we’re both steered wrong like with that whole Mod Stone thing.”

  He shakes his head. “But misled or not, I’ve never been all that slow on the uptake. I’ve learned that any opinion I have will sway your choice one way or another. Usually towards whatever I don’t say. So this time, I don’t want to say anything. Even more than I don’t want to have to carry your ass all the way to Central if you’re too in your own head to defend yourself.”

  I catch myself sulking by the end of that. “I basically spent the last two days just trying to figure my shit out enough so that doesn’t happen.”

  “And how’s that working for you?”

  “When you get down to it, it’s all just math. T objective seconds is two minus the number of seconds since I started inhaling or exhaling. R breaths per second is my current subjective breathing rate. And L breaths is my lung capacity, plus or minus depending on whether I’m exhaling or inhaling, the air in my lungs. Then it’s just T times R over L to get X seconds per second.

  Mich is cross-eyed by now. “I… May or may not have followed any or all of that. But… ‘Seconds per second’?”

  “Objective seconds per subjective second.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better to do subjective seconds per objective second?”

  I shrug. “If you like. I guess from your perspective, that makes more sense. Just do one over X if you want that value. But I think my way is better for getting a handle on my own passage through time.”

  “And how’s, um… THAT… Working for you?”

  “Really well, actually. The slower I breathe, the slower time moves. Overall, it’s pretty great. Other than time speeding up on me when I breathe too fast, the only real downside is when I try to inhale in the middle of an exhale. I get this weird pulling feeling from my stomach and I just kind of lurch forward in time by however much of my breath was left when I reversed it.”

  “Makes sense…”

  “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

  “Nope.”

  After a few seconds more subjectively measured in minutes, I resolve to stop dancing around the issue and just address the elephant in the room already. “Did I ever mention what this whole Skill thing feels like for me?”

  “Doesn’t ring any particular bell. So what does ‘this whole Skill thing’ feel like for you?”

  I take a deep breath before remembering how redundant that is for me now. “It’s almost like every Skill I get is like a new limb… The non-Passive ones, anyway. Once I get an Action or Toggle, it’s just kind of there. All the time. Right in the corner of my awareness, just waiting to be used. And then I get another. And another. And I just keep getting more limbs. Once I hit Level four, I already felt like a spider.”

  I grit my teeth. “Now, though? More like a centipede. I’ve been waiting on getting more Skills until I’m used to the ones I have. But I’m starting to get the feeling that won’t happen. Especially now. You know, surprising as it may be, I’m not very good at being a centipede. Or a spider, for that matter. It’s like all my new limbs keep tangling up in each other, and I’m always getting flustered and confused about which to use at any given time.”

  Holding my breath to center myself, I take no objective time to revel in the fact that I can do that now. “But you know what? As bad as it is, I was handling it. Slowly but surely, I was getting better at coordinating it all. It also helps that the Speed STAT seems to affect speed of thought.”

  I let out a sigh of resignation. “Now though? Now that I can slow or even pause time for myself? I have all the runway I’ll ever need to change my mind about everything before I do it. And I know what you’re thinking… Awesome, right? But here’s the thing. This dumbass System seems to be stuck on a strictly first-thought-best-thought setting. The moment I think of what Skill to use, it locks me in and I can’t back out. Not even if I change my mind that very same instant.”

  I kick up my black satiny covers. “If I revise my plan five times over five subjective minutes, five different Skills will activate the next objective second. Assuming their cooldowns are ready. And assuming I still have any MP or SP left from the fact that it just. Keeps. Fucking. Happening! It’s really fucking with me, you know? No matter what I try… And yeah, I’ve only been trying for a few days now. But I can already tell… It’s pointless. So, I have to either learn to deal with this goddamned Skill lag thing, or get rid of it altogether. And I’ve only found one way to do that.”

  Mich just sits there, absorbing my impassioned rant. “Sounds like this hard decision of yours is already made.”

  I chuckle derisively to myself, ignoring the disjointed reality that comes from doing that. “You know..? The funny thing is, I know you’re playing me. But you’re right.”

  So, right here, right now, before I can overthink myself out of it…

  [ COMMON C.L.A.S.S. PASSIVE GAINED: ANIME / NAMED ATTACKS — EFFECT 1: ASSIGN A CALLOUT TO EACH NON-PASSIVE SKILL EFFECT 2: SPEAK THE CALLOUT TO USE THE SKILL — EFFECT 3: BONUS DAMAGE APPLIED BASED ON INTENSITY OF CALLOUT OVER 100% — STRENGTH SCALING: MATCHES NAMED ATTACK — TILT SCALING: CONTROL — WARNING 1: ACTIONS OR TOGGLES MAY NO LONGER BE ACTIVATED IN ANY WAY OTHER THAN VERBAL — WARNING 2: EACH CALLOUT DEFAULTS TO SKILL NAME IF NOT OVERRIDDEN ]

  And while I’m at it…

  [ USE UNCOMMON MOD STONE ON COMMON CORE PASSIVE: GAS BREATHING? ]

  [ COMMON CORE PASSIVE: GAS BREATHING — UNCOMMON MOD SET: PRECISION ]

  In a wave of time-frozen nausea, I feel something inside me adjust. Despite it being my literal body and distinctly not a mechanical clock, I nonetheless feel my gears get upgraded mid-tick.

  The tick ends almost as soon as it starts. But I’m distracted enough by the sensation that it takes me several subjective seconds to remember that I was holding my breath.

  I ‘promptly’ let it go. Except my distraction extends so far that I even forget that I need to keep holding it if I want to test whether my gamble paid off.

  But by the time I inhale fully again, I no longer need proof of any kind. The difference is just that stark. I feel like I’ve been breathing thin mountain air my whole life, and only just now came down to sea level.

  Granted, I’ve never experienced anything like that. But I’ve also never experienced anything like this. The closest was probably the Universal Constant Mod activation. Except that made the sheer act of breathing so categorically different that the word ‘improvement’ can’t really apply. But this, I mean… Mission accomplished, right?

  Not one to fully believe my own hunch after recent events, I hold my breath anyway. During my conversation with that Admin, I got a pretty good handle on my limits. How it felt to hold my breath as long as I could. But I don’t even need a full subjective minute to declare overwhelming victory in my wager. Despite the Mod being called ‘precision’, it’s like my lungs are actually stronger now.

  And thanks to Gas Breathing’s default effects, the air itself is stronger too. It doesn’t just feel that way. The Skill makes it so.

  By the time I have to breathe again, I’m not the least bit surprised by easily shattering my personal record. Even without doing the math, I already know my reward is well and truly beyond what I risked.

  Between the Skill and its Mod, did that shit just double my lung capacity or what?

  Mich looks to the left. Then to the right. Then back over to me. “So didja do it?”

  I look up at the night sky. Laying on my equally black, equally satiny pillow, I really relax into it for the first time in days. “Yeah… Yeah, I did.”

  “You know, you’re really taking this all in stride.”

  My face screws up at that. I thought of myself more as having fucked up just about every step of the way since I got here. “How so?”

  “You’re adapting so fast to all of this. I’m having my mind blown day in and day out by all aspects of this new reality. But you’re over here, experiencing all the same things. And while I’m left flabbergasted and barely functional until I understand it all, you just shrug at each new thing. You either don’t blink, or just change your entire way of life and move on like it’s nothing.”

  He pauses long enough to lay back down as well. “If I wasn’t there to see it for myself, I wouldn’t believe you were such a different person less than two months ago. Like, look at what just happened. Sure, you spent a day or two complaining incessantly about how your entire life was just upended. But then, you went and found a way to fix it all on your own. A weird way to be sure. But that just makes it all the more impressive.”

  “I dunno… Like, you’ve played RPGs before, right? If your build has holes, you fill them. It’s just what you do. All the same logic applies here.”

  “Is this really all a game to you?”

  More and more every day. “Isn’t it though?”

  “Not really. Sure, it has all these mechanics. But we can’t take our helmets off and exit the game. Or put down the controller. Hell, we can’t even log out. Because this isn’t a game. Not really. Not at all. This is our life now.”

  “I know…”

  “I know you know, that’s not the…” He sighs. “I dunno… Maybe it’s just a ‘youth’ thing?” From the vague sounds coming from his general direction, Mich seems to answer his own question by rolling over. So, having gotten his answer, he asks another. “So, what now?”

  “Now?” That’s actually a good question. But I don’t even need a subjective minute to remember why I brought any of this up in the first place, smoothly answering my own question like that was the plan all along. “Now, I guess, I assign words to all my Skills.”

  “I see… You, uh, need help with that or..?”

  I have to laugh at that. It does… Something. So I put a stop to it as fast as I can before pretending not to have noticed anything wrong. “What? No, of course not.” Like I’d ever let him or anyone even near my attack name customization.

  Mich sighs in relief. “Oh good.” He promptly falls back asleep.

  After an extended silence, a familiar grumble can be heard from Rachel’s bed. “Oh my god, finally…”

  Followed by an ascenting yawn from Ross. “Right?”

  In the silence of the night, I do two things.

  First, I start assigning names to Skills.

  Second, I try as hard as I can not to think about how that tiny bit of laughter affected me just now.