Assassin Crow Evolution

"Arcane?" Gundor repeated, "Is that what they call magic nowadays? I suppose you can present it, but do you think that’s a good idea?"

"I hope it is," He said, "I don’t want to lose all my shit."

"Your shit may be worth as much as the word," Gundor said, "When I used to be a crow, I lived eighty years. My feather lived even longer. We’ve seen a lot, and I doubt you’ll be able to impress us, so I recommend that you cut your losses, and go back to where you came from."

Jimmy was stunned. He knew that Gundor was difficult, but in a way, he believed that he had convinced him to cooperate already.

Hearing him flat-out refuse to even have a look at his Arcane Comprehension seemed worse than him stealing it.

Nevertheless, he argued, "Big ego for a dead guy. I mean what do you have to lose? I’m not asking you to leave your weird heaven here. That’s not how it works, right? I just want to merge with your feather."

"I haven’t seen my feather in a while, but I’m sure he wouldn’t have survived five hundred years just to risk merging with an average crow. What are you, a month old?" Gundor said, "Back in my day, crows had to earn their Sentient Feathers."

Now Jimmy noticed that Gundor was being difficult without a solid reason. He noticed it in the way he talked, the words he chose.

For that matter, he doubled down, and said, "I’m young, and I still found my way to you. Doesn’t that tell you everything you need to know? I’m not an average crow."

Gundor was struck silent. As his eyes darted left and right, Jimmy could see that he was looking for another excuse.

In the end, Jimmy lost his patience before Gundor could come up with another excuse. He noticed that he brought his skills and evolution check-points along with him.

A fireball brewed below his claws, slowly setting the grass on fire.

"You will help me merge with your feather, old man," He said, "Or else we’re going to figure out if you can feel pain in heaven."

"Heaven is up there," He pointed with his wing, "I’m stuck in the void."

"Stuck?" He repeated.

Jimmy looked for an excuse to attack. His anger brewed quickly, and he didn’t know why. It wasn’t like him, and yet he was mustering a sort of anger that he could not control.

"I wasn’t a good man when I was alive, and I knew nothing good waited for me in the afterlife. That’s why we’re so far below heaven." Gundor admitted, avoiding eye-contact, "Before I could’ve gone to hell, my feathers threw me in the void, because I can’t pass on to the afterlife fully unless I bring every part of me with me. If I let you merge with my feather, it will no longer belong to me, and I will fall right into hell. I’ll lose this home I made in the void, a home I spent all my energy to create."

Gundor continued, "You have no idea what you’d miss after being away from your true home for over four hundred years. I miss every flower, every fish, every friendly face. I even miss the humans... I’m sorry, kid, I can’t lose my home twice."

Jimmy looked upwards, and figured out that Gundor was not lying.

A large platform of light was high above them. It looked holy, it looked like heaven.

Slowly, he calmed down, and gave up on the idea of attacking this old, dead crow’s soul. Only now did he realize how horrible his idea was.

Perhaps the void worked differently on the brainless, conscious mind. He was only projecting himself here, after all, and even though he found it impressive that he could project his skill-set into the void, he realized that he almost fell victim to the lawlessness of the void.

At last, he broke, and asked, "How can we work around this, man? There has to be a way for me to merge with your feather without sending you to hell."

"There is a way." Gundor said. "But I heard that it almost never works well."

"We can give it a shot, assuming you aren’t trying to steal my body or some shit like that." He followed along.

"No, I can’t steal your body," Gundor said, "But you can help me steal someone else’s."

After that point, for what felt like a day’s worth of a conversation, Gundor helped Jimmy memorize a step-by-step plan.

It wasn’t simple, but it led Jimmy towards what he wanted. He didn’t care that there were unpredictable dangers attached to it.

If the plan failed, Gundor would go straight to hell, because the Sentient Feather from back in the real world was the only thing that held him from plummeting into the depths of eternal despair.

Not to mention, Jimmy could breed havoc in the real world as well.

Either way, he decided to give this a shot, because he really wanted that Sentient Feather.

The first step of the plan was counter-intuitive. Jimmy did not present his Arcane Comprehension to the other, but Gundor presented his own Comprehension to Jimmy instead, or rather, compressed it for him.

Compressed, and not arcane.

The carefully crafted world that Gundor had made for himself within the void, started dissipating slowly.

A blinding light erupted in front of Jimmy as Gundor’s spirit form seemingly exploded.

Every fraction of the crafted world around them was sucked in towards the light, little by little.

Once the crafted world disappeared, a pale orb floated a few feet away from Jimmy.

"Looks like he wasn’t kidding after all," He said, "That’s step one done."

Jimmy initiated step two. He made himself forget about the void.

Detaching from the void, for him, as someone who was still alive, was only possible if he forgot about it. The rule was that if he didn’t know that the void existed, he couldn’t possibly find himself in the void.

It worked.

The utter darkness of the void was replaced by the geometric shapes he experienced earlier on, when he was tripping balls.

Then, on purpose, he started thinking.

Meditation didn’t tolerate thinking, so quite rapidly, he lost his focus, and was pulled back to his body, up until he opened his eyes.

Once he opened his eyes, he kept seeing geometric shapes across the world around him, but he knew that he was at home.

"Damn, I’m still tripping," He said. "Zoey really knew what she was doing."

Right after, despite his distorted perception, he could tell that the black, Sentient Feather he had held with his beak before, was missing.

It was missing, and he was holding the orb he got from the void. Though he forgot about the void, he still remembered why he brought this orb back with him from his lengthy meditative trip.

Two and two added together. He began to understand why the feather was missing.

"I feel... stronger." He smiled. "Looks like Gundor didn’t fuck me over, but let’s be sure."

Afterwards, he woke Virena up. Judging from the fact that he left, and found her asleep, he firmly believed that he had spent a day in meditation.

Virena simply looked like a triangle to him right now, but he could still tell her apart.

"Can you give me a little cut?" He asked, "I’m trying to see if I absorbed the feather."

"What?" She jolted up, "I can’t understand you."

"Oh right, I have to speak your language." He chuckled.

Bzzz...

Zzzz...

Bz!

"My goodness! Are you alright?" Virena asked, "You sound like a fly."

"Oh right," He chuckled again, "Skrt?"

"Stab you?" She parroted, "I won’t stab you, Jimmy, you’re obviously not in your right mind right now."

"Pshhhh hssss Ra! Ffff!" He exclaimed.

"Well, if you put it that way," She shook her head.

Afterwards, she walked over, and ran her blade deep within her friend’s feathers. As per his request, she heated her sickle up a little bit, just to deliver that extra bit of damage.

"Fuck!" He shouted, "That sparks!"

Virena backed away, and then they both watched his fresh wound.

She had partially welded his wound shut, but she was no doctor, so as he moved around a little bit, his wound tore up further, and started bleeding all across his wing.

Blood tainted the natural nest. It was pungent, hard to ignore.

Yet, to his surprise, it did not trigger the Help Yourself skill that he had bought days ago. He found this wildly confusing, and it made him question if he was really awake.

A few seconds later, the bleeding stopped on its own. He immediately knew that it shouldn’t have stopped that fast, not without direct help, at least.

"Please look at my wound," He said.

After a thorough look, pushing feathers away with her sickle to explore every tiny detail of the wound, Virena pulled back, and couldn’t believe her eyes.

"It’s gone!" She said.

"I thought so," He smiled, "I feel a lot better! Gundor kept his promise, and I intend to keep mine."