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11 - Second Facet

  It only took a few steps for Diven to start doubting himself. Visibility was low; a thick mist surrounded Diven as he walked through the snow.

  Was he going in the right direction?

  He didn’t know. He couldn’t know.

  His rational mind told him he had to keep walking, see if he could find something. Yet, he was scared. Scared of what the mist was hiding, scared of getting lost.

  His senses were overwhelmed by the lack of stimulation. There was only fog, and the sound of the white snow creaking under his feet.

  It rarely snowed in Kheiron. Even in the depth of winter, only a thin layer sometimes fell onto the streets of the city. It never lasted longer than a few hours, erased by the passage of the inhabitants.

  Diven remembered longing for snow when he was younger. Now, he couldn’t muster the same excitement. Were circumstances different, he was sure he could enjoy the endless white cover blanketing the rift. But here it was synonymous with danger.

  After a few dozen steps, or maybe it was hundreds, he had lost track of how long he had walked. It was neither too long nor too short. He saw nothing on the way. At least it was not snowing, so he could always follow his own tracks to return to the starting point if he wanted to.

  Not that it would make any difference. So far, everywhere looked the exact same. Nothing of note stood out.

  He disliked the thought that the traces he left in the snow might be used by others to track him. Rifts were hostile places and one thing was sure: he was not alone in this one.

  Still, with nothing better to do, he walked, hoping to find something in the random direction he had picked.

  In the meantime, he decided to check what facets were available for him. He wasn’t sure he would pick one right away, knowing more about the rift would help him make a better choice. But he could use the time to think about the benefits each would give. Considering his experiences in the last few days, he expected to have a decent amount of choices.

  Available facets:

  


      
  • Facet of the Rot Mage


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  • Facet of the Exile


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  • Facet of the Survivor


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  • Facet of the Fisherman


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  Three new options. He hoped for an evolution to Facet of the Hoplite but it wasn't to be. Maybe he needed a few more levels in his weapons skills before it opened up. Still, having four options left him with enough leeway to adapt to the rift. Furthermore, this many options so soon after awakening was already exceptional. A testament to the hardships he endured since his exile.

  Of course, Facet of the Rot Mage was still there. It would never go away. Rot was in his blood now. Diven didn’t consider taking this facet. After seeing what happened to the Cyclops’ body, he was scared of its powers. While he resented his bloodline, it hadn’t shown any effect until then. Sure, it had gotten him exiled, but he was confident he could change his clan’s mind if he reached a certain level of power. Maybe the peak of Evolved Rank, maybe Ascended Rank. Anyway, it was possible. He wanted to believe it was.

  However, if his mere presence made everything around him rot, he wouldn’t be allowed near anyone. Leios or not, Kheiron or not, he doubted even the barbarians of the Wildlands would want to live with him. He couldn’t allow this to happen, so he would not take a facet that would empower his bloodline.

  The second one, Facet of the Exile, was puzzling him. Of course, he could see where it was coming from. It was an apt description of his situation. But he really couldn’t imagine what benefit the facet would give him.

  Facets always gave one or more skills. Of course, whether it was a good thing was sometimes a matter of perspective. Facet of the Rot Mage would likely give him the Rot Magic skill, which he didn’t want. Facet of the Hoplite had given him skills to be a better Hoplite.

  Facet of the Exile... What could it give him to make better at being exiled?

  He wasn’t sure.

  And, the more he thought about it, the less he liked the idea. What if the facet prevented him from rejoining civilization? He could imagine a skill that would incite people to exile him.

  No, he was becoming paranoid. It wasn't how skills worked.

  Diven forced himself to look at the potential positives of such a facet. If he started assuming the worst-case scenarios for every option, he would never get anywhere.

  First things first, he wouldn’t have to do anything to complete the facet. He was as exiled as he could be, so he supposed all he had to do was wait and the facet would progress on its own.

  Good, it was already a pretty compelling argument for taking it.

  As for what skill he would receive, he didn’t know. But since it was unlikely to be related to rot, he was ready to give it a chance.

  Next, Facet of the Survivor. This one was immediately appealing. Surviving was his number one priority and something he was struggling with at this juncture. From the moment Uncle Basil had left him on the bank of the river, he had had too many close brushes with death.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Anything that would help him in that regard was welcome. The only downside he could think of was that he couldn’t guess what skill he would receive from this facet. There were a lot of potential options, from camping skills to more esoteric ideas such as a way to endure injuries better. There were too many ideas swirling inside his head to be confident.

  Also, he might have to put himself in dangerous situations to complete it. The latter wasn’t really a problem considering dangerous situations seemed to be coming to him anyway.

  As for Facet of the Fisherman, it clearly came from his fishing skill. It wasn’t something that would help him in the rift, nor would it be very useful in the Wildlands. He could already fish well enough for his consumption.

  Diven was leaning heavily toward Facet of the Survivor, his only reservation being that he didn’t know what kind of survival the facet entailed. From his meager knowledge, he could very well get a skill that only helped him light his campfire. As handy as it may be, he could manage without it.

  Although he did lose his lighter, so maybe not.

  It was between this or Facet of the Exile. But the latter was even more uncertain.

  “Alright,” He whispered. He had a good idea of what he would do regarding his next facet.

  Now what?

  He was still walking in the white snow surrounded by white fog. Not a sound reached his ears but his steps on the snow. He didn’t feel cold but he was starting to grow hungry and thirsty. But he didn’t have food or water.

  He could eat snow but he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, even if it was strangely neutral in temperature, meaning he wouldn’t freeze. He was conscious of the fact that snow was supposed to be cold, temperate snow was not natural. He shouldn’t put it in his mouth.

  He would if he didn’t find water soon though.

  Walking in this dull environment was incredibly monotonous. He’d already spent enough time alone that he circled back the same topics in his head many times.

  His clan, his exile, his family, his “friends”. His feelings had not abated—he was as angry and worried as ever. But he was already getting tired of those being the only things on his mind.

  His eyes, too, were growing tired. The constant white was straining, disorienting. More than once, he nearly fell to the ground, his balance disturbed by the unchanging environment. It was close to walking with his eyes closed. Even with the ground being consistently flat, his legs didn’t listen to him.

  But he didn’t have a choice, so he kept walking. Diven wanted to live and to live meant to advance.

  What else was he going to do? Sit down in the middle of nowhere, waiting for hunger and thirst to take him?

  Certainly not.

  He had to return home. He had to know what happened to his parents. He had to confront Uncle Basil for leaving him stranded in the Wildlands. He had to prove the clan wrong. He had to see the face of Zoe and Philon as he returned covered in glory. He wanted revenge.

  He would have it.

  What was a rift before his will to succeed?

  He just had to walk.

  Step by step.

  Each one of them getting him closer to a hint that would help him find the exit of this rift.

  His stomach rumbled.

  It was fine, he had been hungry before.

  Step. By. Step.

  His eyes hurt but he couldn’t close them, fearing he would miss a sign of danger or hope.

  Step.

  It wasn’t that hard.

  It was just walking.

  It was easy. In fact, it was so easy he could see other people had done it too. For there were footprints crossing his path in the snow.

  Wait, footprints?

  “Did I walk in a circle?” He wondered aloud.

  But stepping next to the footprints, the comparison didn’t hold up to scrutiny. Those footprints weren’t his. They were longer, slimmer, and came from someone whose shoes were more adapted to the environment than Diven’s dilapidated boots.

  Stunned Diven looked all around him. It shouldn’t be possible for someone to be in the rift with him. While rifts could be entered by anyone until it was completed, this one had been underwater deep in the Wildlands.

  There was no way someone else got in.

  The only logical conclusion was that this rift was home to humanoid monsters.

  It wasn’t exactly good news, but it wasn’t a bad one either. Humanoids could be reasoned with. Beasts would try to kill him on sight but maybe he could negotiate his exit with the owner of the footprints.

  Diven had nothing but the footprints to go off of. He could continue walking randomly into the mist or follow them. The decision wasn’t hard to make. He didn’t have food, he didn’t have water, and he couldn’t afford to spend too much time wandering with no direction.

  As for if he should follow the steps in the same direction they were going or not, he didn’t know. He didn’t know how fresh those steps were. For all he knew, the thing that had passed here could be weeks away from his position now.

  Frustrated by his lack of knowledge, Diven decided to go in the same direction as the steps. There was bound to be something there. Good or bad, only time would tell.

  Since he was heading toward potential danger, Diven stopped delaying and went for the Facet of the Survivor. Whatever help it would give, he felt better having it before encountering the monster that had left these tracks.

  Skill Acquired: Trap Detection – Basic – Lv1

  “Uh. Hmm.” Diven let out in surprise. This wasn’t what he expected at all. Not sure if it would be useful, he examined how he felt and figured he couldn’t sense much difference. It didn’t mean much as he was in the middle of nowhere, it was unlikely he found a trap there.

  “Better than nothing.” He whispered.

  He would have to follow the footprints to see where they led. Maybe the skill could warn him about ambushes from whatever he was tracking.

  Before continuing, Diven inspected his inner garden to assess the changes brought about by his new facet and skill.

  Sure enough, a new branch had sprouted on the rotten tree. It was small, barely sticking out of the trunk. It would grow in time. From the base of the trunk, a small patch of ivy was crawling on the ground in all directions, swallowing the grass under it.

  Diven instinctively recognized his new Trap Detection skill. He was concerned the proximity to the rotten tree would affect the new plant, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

  He didn’t have time to investigate further. He needed to move.

  He had to keep walking.

  Hey everyone!

  Thanks so much for reading this far — it really means a lot. I’m having a lot of fun writing this story, and I hope you’re enjoying it too.

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