Black Mould - Seventeen - A Sacrifice of Self to Commune with God
I stood around awkwardly for a long bit of time.
How did one ask for a blessing, and was it even a good idea to begin with?
I shook my head. This was for science. There was no room for embarrassment in the pursuit of greater knowledge.
First, I got onto my knees. Then I decided that that wasn’t terribly comfortable, and settled for sitting on a stool instead. Feronie was the goddess of nature, not some weird goddess of self-flagellation. Bringing my legs together, I cupped my hands and then bowed my head.
Focusing on my [Druid Sight] while my eyes were closed was a little bizarre, but I pushed past that and listened—for lack of a better term—to my sense of attunement.
The new subskill was going to prove useful, I just knew it.
The farm felt dirty, but not in the same way as the world outside it did. This was… this was the kind of dirty that an untended garden had. Like a street-side garden in a busy city. Weeds were flourishing between the flowers, and trash had been tossed onto the dirt. Cigarette butts and paper coffee cups.
It was nasty, but there was potential for it to be nicer.
“Um, dear Feronie,” I began, then stopped.
What was I doing? Dictating a letter? No, that didn’t work.
I scrunched my nose and tried to make it a little more casual. I could try begging and supplicating later, if the casual approach failed. “Hey, Feronie, it’s uh, me. You know, that person you blessed and pulled into this world? I’m uh, calling to say hi? You know, ask how things are going on. And maybe, um, if you have a minute, you could help me bless this room? I’m growing mushrooms. I don’t know if that’s what you wanted out of me, but it’s the best I can do right about now.”
Pausing, I focused on sensing the air.
I didn’t actually expect anything. The gods in my old world, if they ever existed, were the silent types who never helped anyone.
It’s why I didn’t expect to feel a change in the air. A stirring in the attunement. I didn’t have sharp enough senses to know what was happening, but… well, to return to that analogy, it felt as if someone had moved by and picked up the trash a little.
“Oh,” I muttered. “It’s actually working?”
And then something hit me like a truck.
My eyes snapped open, and I caught a vision of green motes flitting through the air. But then my vision swam, my stomach pulled in taut, and my head felt at once too light and too heavy.
I’d felt something before…
I glanced at my mana, just to see.
Oh, that wasn’t good.
I stood up. I had some magically-infused mushrooms. They’d give me a point or two faster than just gaining them over time normally, and then I’d feel better.
Standing up was a mistake though. I heard the blood rushing to my ears and my vision went from shifting as though I was dizzy to being outright incomprehensible and blurry.
Then the floor grew closer, and I felt myself collide with it. It was a distant feeling, as though I wasn’t in my own body.
I breathed hard, gasping in the dusty air near the floor.
Blackness crawled into the edge of my vision, and then, nothing.
It wasn’t unconsciousness, though. I was still awake, more or less. It was hard to string two thoughts together, but I wasn’t sleeping, and this didn’t feel like dreaming. I hadn’t fainted enough before to compare this to that.
Something brushed my hair back, a soft warmth.
I noticed that I was wrapped in something soothing, like a comfortable blanket, but I could still feel the cold floor pressed up against me and the humid air of my farm. The two feelings continued to conflict. Then something raised me to my feet, though I knew I was still on the floor.
A woman stood before me.
She was beautiful, though her skin was blemished and bruised. She was covered in soot and grime; her clothes, which must once have been a royal attire, were torn and shredded and threadbare. The woman reached out to me and cupped a cheek in one hand.
“Do you know what it means to be loyal?” she asked.
I shook my head. “I… maybe?”
She smiled, sad and tired. “Loyalty unto death is what I need.”
The black faded, and I had the impression that we were surrounded on all sides by great machines, by complex workings of steam and oil and burning coal. The air became stifling-hot and choking.
She pushed it back, but with effort. “Worry not, child of man,” she whispered. Her brows turned in. I could feel the anger bubbling beneath the surface, but it wasn’t directed at me. “It is not your death that I want.”
I awoke with a gasp, every limb sore, and head pounding.
Pushing myself up, I climbed onto my knees with great effort, then coughed. Black phlegm rose out of my throat, and I could feel the gunk in my lungs making my breath short. This text is hosted at novel~fire~net
[You have unlocked the [Commune with God {Rare}] Skill!]
[Do you want to add the [Commune with God {Rare}] Skill to your known repertoire of Class Skills?]
Did that do what I thought it did?
[Commune with God {Rare}]
You have opened the path to speaking with your divine through ritual, prayer, and sacrifice. Your pleas were heard, for better or ill. As you improve with this skill, your ability to speak to your god will improve, though it will have no bearing on whether they choose to listen.
Category: Clerical Magic
“Not now,” I muttered, dismissing the prompt. The headache wasn’t worth it. Not that Feronie seemed like a bad sort, it was just… Well, whatever. A later problem.
I grabbed the edge of my workbench and used it to help myself to my feet. I closed my eyes and let my balance settle for a bit. Yeah, I definitely needed a pick-me-up. It would suck to eat a mushroom that wasn’t fully grown, but I needed the mana, and my stomach was growling with hunger.
I looked up, then blinked at what I saw.
First, the rust. There were always splashes of it on the walls of my farm, but it seemed as though they had spread a lot. My stool had fallen at some point, one of the legs rusted through enough that it simply bent under its own weight.
Second, my mushrooms.
Every last one was fully grown and looking stronger than ever. I looked to the side and noticed that my notebook was now a wreck, mushrooms pushing out from between the pages.
“What the hell?” I muttered.
I tasted the air, then squinted at the room. Something was tingling my [Druid Sight]. It took a moment to find a way to focus on it.
[Lesser Blessing of Nature {Uncommon}]
The entire room was blessed?
I didn’t know what that meant, exactly, so I dug into it with my [Druid Sight]
[Lesser Blessing of Nature {Uncommon}]
This space has been noticed by the Goddess Feronie. Nature will thrive here as much as unnatural creations will suffer.
“Okay,” I muttered. That was… kind of awesome, actually. I grinned. Would it mean faster growth? An easier time cultivating mushrooms? It was perfect!
Still, investigating would need to wait until tomorrow. For now, I had to get back home before it got too dark. Dad was lenient, but mom would get really angry if I came back after the eighth bell, or even the seventh in the colder seasons when the sun went down even earlier—not that I’d want to be outside barefoot when things got that cold.
I shifted around my farm, checking on things, nibbling on a few mushrooms that had grown fully, then I looked at my experimental grafted mushrooms which had ruined my notebook. That would all have to wait for another day. I was unusually tired.
Opening the door, I stepped out, then froze.
Debra was slumped over nearby, snoring fitfully from within her pile of blankets.
The only light came from a few flickering street lights a few levels up. The light was filtered by the catwalks, casting long shadows against every rusty wall and surface.
The city was at rest. Only the most dutiful of the factories worked through the night, and most of those with half-shifts. It was so dark that even the thieves and muggers would be back at bed.
It was, essentially, well past late.
Mom was going to kill me when I got back home.