As the sun continued its morning rise, I spotted something peculiar. In the distance to the north, I spotted large, floating objects in the sky. I focused on the distant sight and realized that they were chunks of earth and stone that had somehow taken flight. Each was the size of houses, some broken up into smaller chunks, just floating lazily in the air. Sparks of electric energy flashed in the air around them, as if the space surrounding each stone was charged with power.

  Although curious about the strange phenomena, I made sure to stay well away from it. Something deep within my gut told me that approaching such strange events was unwise and very, very dangerous. It wasn’t a memory, per say, and I was sure that in the past I had never seen such a sight before. It was more of an intrinsic instinct. Like knowing not to touch fire. I knew that the floating, electric rocks were not natural. At the same time though, I knew that such sights were not common, and my instincts told me that they needed to be avoided.

  And so, I continued my journey to the mountains in the west. With each dragging pull of my cane, I inched ever closer to my destination. The landscape remained much the same and I saw nothing but rocks and dirt, with the occasional dead shrub and tree, as I made my way. The journey was quite boring, with the exception of the rat-dogs. Almost every hour I came across one of the filthy things, and each one I met displayed the same vicious hunger that the previous specimens I had encountered had.

  Thankfully, I had grown adept at dispatching the foul beasts. A few whacks with my cane and a bite to the neck took them all down. Soon, my pale white skin was quite stained with their disgusting sticky, black blood. I would have to find another source of water to wash myself clean.

  It was after dispatching the fifth of the vile monsters that the blue box reappeared.

  Once more, I had no clue as to what the peculiar messages meant. I could only guess that killing monsters made me stronger somehow, as the increase in levels and status numbers on the blue sheet testified. Yet what was the ultimate goal here? Why was I increasing in strength in the first place?

  Earlier I had likened the blue box’s messages to that of a tournament or contest. This all seemed like some grand game, yet the final objective continued to elude me. What was the point in such a bizarre system?

  I continued my trek through this dour wasteland. Over and over the weighted tip of my cane would plunge deep into the dirt, and over and over I would use the strength within my single limb to pull my makeshift sled across the earth. Although they were closer than they had been at the start of my journey, the mountains to the west still seemed so far away.

  I stopped my slow trek, intending to rest. That was when I had a sudden realization. I was not tired. Despite dragging myself through dirt and sand for the last several hours using only one arm, I was feeling fine. My breath was not hitched, nor did a single drop of sweat ever drip from my scarred brow. The slow chill of realization began to creep up what was left of my spine.

  I did not tire. Despite having a broken, mangled body, I did not die. I still breathed despite my lack of lungs. I thought back to my moment by the lake, where I had felt the need to drink some water. Now though I realized that my need wasn’t true thirst but the memory of it; my throat had felt dry so I had thought that I was thirsty. It was only now that I realized that I had never drank any of the water. I was not thirsty, never had been.

  I thought back to the memory of my reflection. My inhumanly pale skin. My sharp teeth. My ability to see without eyes.

  Was I truly human? I had memories of being human, a sapien in fact. Yet my appearance, the wretched state of my body, hell, even the blue box called me a monster!

  I shook my head to clear it of the foul thoughts clustering within my mind. I was a human being. Every bit of me (that which was left, anyway) screamed at that fact. I was not a monster, regardless of what the blue box’s messages said or what I looked like now. But if so, what had happened to me? How had I been transformed into this thing? And what had happened to bring me to such a low state?

  I needed answers. But how to get said answers eluded me. I did not know who I was, where I was, nor what I was. I did not know what this strange blue box was, either. Nor did I know what this strange, magical ability to construct things came from. The messages called it “Assembly.” Why did I have this ability? Could others use it as well?

  My mindsight looked upwards and saw that the sun was almost directly overhead. It was almost noon time. I needed to continue my trip towards the mountains. At this rate it would likely take me weeks to get there, but that was fine. My body didn’t tire, after all. And something told me that it did not need to sleep, either.

  And so, my tireless trek continued. I kept track of time through the position of the sun and, when it had dipped low over the western horizon, I tracked the movement of the moon. Through six sun rises did I trudge ever onwards, dragging my mangled body on its rickety sled through the desolate waste. Closer and closer the mountains loomed. Eventually, I could make out their snow-capped peaks in the distance.

  During my trip, I encountered more of the rat-dogs as well as other types of monstrosities. These took the form of a strange, burrowing beast that looked like a mix of a caterpillar and a mole. Although these new monsters were just as rageful and vicious as the dogs, they were much easier to kill. A swat or two from the tip of my weighted cane usually caved in their soft, dome-like skulls. I fought many dogs and worms along the way, and it seemed as if the amount of monsters increased the closer to the mountains one got. It was after one of these battles that I reached level 4.

  It seemed as if each advance in level required more experience than the previous. Curious.

  During the seventh (or was it eight?) night, I came across an obstruction in my path. Sticking up from the earth at an awkward angle was the rusted remains of a large sword. The elements of the wasteland had taken its toll on the magnificent weapon, as its once-sharp blade was corroded through. Its golden hilt was dull, caked with dust and sand and grit from years of exposure to the sun and wind. Its pommel was long gone, as was the leather that once surrounded its grip. Despite the once majestic weapon’s sad state, it still served its purpose as the marker for what lay beyond it.

  Several feet ahead was what looked like a pit dug deep into the rocky earth. I dragged my way past the sword towards the edge and looking down I spied the remains of what was once a mass grave. Countless skeletal bones were scattered across the raw earth at the bottom of the pit, many still encased in the armor that they wore when alive. Whether unearthed by the wind or grave robbers I didn’t know, but the grave housed countless dead soldiers along with the weapons and armaments they carried during a long, past war. Among the armored forms were rusted swords, the broken hafts of polearms, and the shattered remains of shields.

  I frowned as I beheld the forgotten grave, wondering just who these brave men were. From the similarities in their armor, I could tell that they were part of an unified fighting force, perhaps a king’s army or those of a powerful duke’s. Since they all wore solid plate, these were obviously men of means, either lords of some rank or landed knights. To see their remains buried here in this desolate land and not returned to their homes meant that their forces had suffered a bad turn of events.

  My mind’s eye focused on the unearthed gravesite and I noted with some interest that despite their age, some of the armor looked to be in decent shape. I thought back to my ability, Assembly, and wondered if it would work on the materials in the pit below. There’s no reason it shouldn’t. Metal were materials, and there was a lot of metal in the mass grave.

  I carefully shifted myself off of my furry sled and pushed my small form to the edge of the pit. Taking care not to tumble down into it, I used my cane to carefully slip my body down the angling slope of the mass grave. My efforts went smoothly at first, until I reached a particularly steep area whereupon I suddenly found myself slipping down the sandy dirt at a break-neck speed. I hissed in pain and agony when I felt the grains of soil and rocks poke at two tender areas on my back. It felt horrible, the same pain that rocked me whenever something aggravated the red, ragged flesh below my chest.

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  My slide down the slope eventually stopped at the bottom. I cursed in irritation at the painful sensations on my back and reached my arm behind me. As I felt around, I winced when my fingers poked at two rough patches of skin located over my shoulder blades. From what I could feel, I had just found two more areas of red, ragged flesh, this time on my back. What’s more, these parts felt like stumps, similar to the one connected to my right shoulder. Strange. Did this mean I once had more than two arms?

  I ignored this further evidence of my currently inhuman nature, choosing instead to focus on the unearthed bodies before me and the gear they possessed. I dragged myself to the closest skeleton, this one still partly buried under a mound of dirt. His top half was exposed, showing that the blue armor he wore was still in one piece. Rust and dents covered the aged metal, while some of the leather fasteners looked to have rotted away completely. The dead knight’s visor was also open, showing the grinning skull inside the ornate though rusty helmet.

  I used my hand to remove some of the dirt covering the body. After about five minutes of work I wound up only exposing more of the rusted chest plate and part of the right arm. This wasn’t working. With me only having a single limb and not being very mobile, there was no possible way for me to dig up the armor. At least, not physically. I thought about my Assembly skill and how it was able to move things through the air magically.

  I focused on the partially buried body in front of me and willed it to move. I strained my mind, focusing hard and visualizing what I wanted to happen, but despite all my efforts nothing happened. I ceased my mental struggle, growling in frustration while I grounded my sharp teeth together. I was obviously doing this wrong. How did I get the ability to work before? I thought back to both instances of creating the cane as well as the construction of my sled. It was then that I realized that *creation *was the key. In all the previous times I used Assembly, I was actively trying to make something.

  I glanced down once more at the body, at the desiccated skull locked forever inside the metal helmet. Was it right to disturb these brave knights’ eternal rest just to use their remains as ingredients? I looked into the empty sockets of the skull, wondering what color eyes this soldier had when he was alive. I quickly shook my head, knowing it didn’t matter. Like the dog-rats who I had killed and whose bodies I had torn apart for material, these soldiers were long dead. They had been left here, forgotten, abandoned in this hellish place. I was still alive, and with their help, I could survive this wasteland and make it home. Wherever that was.

  With that decision made, I set out to make something. But what should I make? I looked down at the soldier’s half-buried corpse once more, noting the rusted armor. The dark blue of the metal was still visible under the filth and stains.

  The main difficulties I had was due to my lack of limbs. I could not walk or run, nor could I do much with only one arm. It quickly dawned on me that I would not be able to make it to the safety of the distant mountains just by simply dragging myself. I was too slow, too defenseless as I was. I had encountered more and more monsters the closer I got to my destination. I could only deduce that their numbers would increase the more I travel forwards. With such thoughts in my head, it was obvious what I should build next.

  A new body.

  Was such a thing even possible though? Within my fragmented mind, I recalled instances where people who lost limbs had them replaced by prosthetics. Such devices were mechanically complicated and had complex magical enchantments woven into them. This made them rare and extremely expensive. Not to mention that the replacement artificial limb was usually not as good as the lost natural one. A painter who lost his arm could gain a prosthetic to replace it, but he would never paint with the skill he once had.

  Was this really my answer? Could I use my skill, Assembly, to fashion myself not just prosthetic limbs, but an entire replacement body? On the whole the idea sounded ludicrous. But I had no choice in the matter. I was less than half a man as I was. I needed two arms and two legs if I was to survive this wasteland.

  And so, I began building. I used Assembly to gather all the materials around me that I would need. With a clear intent to create in mind, the magic that powered the skill easily moved away the dirt that covered the armored skeleton.

  Assembly flowed through me as I began gathering materials. Pieces of rusted armor began dragging themselves across the soil, accompanied by sticks, vines, and stones from the surrounding area. The components shifted together like puzzle pieces, guided by my will and the strange power within.

  First came the chest piece. A battered cuirass wrapped around what remained of my torso, clasping tightly to my flesh. For my missing right arm, I wove together gauntlets and vines, creating joints from smaller pieces of metal and wood. The artificial limb took shape, looking bulky and much sturdier than the delicate appearance of my remaining natural arm.

  The legs proved more complex. I layered greaves and sabatons, using sturdy branches as supports and weaving them together with strips of leather and vine. The entire process took less than ten minutes, the components flowing together with an ease that surprised me.

  When the mechanical arm connected to my shoulder, I braced myself for the familiar agony that always accompanied anything touching the ragged flesh. Instead, a different sensation bloomed: ethereal threads stretched from my consciousness into the construct. The feeling reminded me of roots spreading through soil, but these tendrils were made of pure thought rather than matter.

  My awareness crept through every joint and plate of the prosthetic, mapping its structure in my mind. Pins and needles danced along pathways of wood and metal as the tendrils pushed deeper. The sensation wasn't exactly pleasant, but neither was it painful; it was more like the tingling when circulation returns to a sleeping limb.

  The tendrils continued their advance until they filled every crevice of the mechanical arm. As they settled into place, something extraordinary happened: I could feel! Sensations, muted but obvious, traveled up and down the metal and wooden limb, and with a thought, I ordered the arm to move. It responded to my thoughts as naturally as my flesh limb did, and the prosthetic lifted itself up into the air. I flexed the gauntlet's fingers open and closed, and each digit responded to my mental commands.

  I reached out to my side and grasped a small rock, the mechanical fingers adjusting their grip clumsily. While the artificial appendage couldn't detect the texture or temperature of the pebble, my mind clearly registered a faint resistance where the metallic digits made contact with the rock.

  My new nature truly astounded me. This was beyond those prosthetics I saw within the haze of my memories; those needed very complex arcane enchantments to function. Operating them also required the user to possess innate magical abilities. Also, based on my recollection, the people equipped with artificial limbs experienced complete numbness through their replacements, which was a major drawback that made these substitutes pale in comparison to natural appendages.

  Yet this synthetic limb somehow transmitted subtle tactile feedback while operating entirely without spells or magical energy, as best I could tell. It had become more than just an artificial replacement; I felt as if it were truly a part of me now.

  This was beyond anything I had expected when crafting the limb. Somehow, my consciousness had merged with the machinery, bringing it to life. Was this an aspect of my Assembly ability I hadn't known about? Or was it tied to the nature of whatever I had become, this creature that could survive with half a body and see without eyes?

  As if answering my unspoken question, the blue box returned.

  So. This new phenomenon was all part of this strange body's monstrous nature then. I suppose I should feel good about this development since the ability to directly control my new mechanical limbs was quite beneficial. But all I felt was concern.

  I decided to ignore such thoughts, for now. At the moment I needed to focus on survival; I can have my metaphysical breakdown at a later time.

  The sensations multiplied as I connected each new piece to my broken form. When the torso joined to the ragged, red flesh below my chest, the tendrils surged through them like lightning. My consciousness spread down through the metal and wood, mapping every joint and connection. The feedback was overwhelming; pressure, resistance, weight distribution: all of it flooding my mind at once.

  I gasped, my back arching as the neural network expanded. The mechanical legs twitched and flexed involuntarily as my mind adjusted to the foreign input. Unlike with the arm, these sensations were more intense, more vital. I could feel the ground beneath my back. Feel the pressure of each pebble and stone as they pressed against the metal.

  I lay there for several minutes, letting my consciousness settle into its new home. The mechanical body hummed with potential, each component now as much a part of me as my remaining flesh.

  I stretched both arms out, comparing them side by side: one pale and natural, the other a patchwork of metal and wood. Different in appearance but equally under my control. For the first time since awakening in this desolate place, I felt something close to whole again.

  I attempted to stand on my new legs, but immediately toppled over onto the dirt, a puff of dust rising into the still air as I slammed down. The balance was wrong; it seemed as if two legs weren't enough to support my awkward form. I scowled, then went back to work. More pieces of armor rose from the grave as I redesigned my lower half. Three additional legs took shape, giving me five points of contact with the ground. Two of my new legs were created using gauntlets, giving the appearance of two arms jutting from my lower torso, grasping at the dirt like the paws of a beast. I ignored this detail, as I was focused mainly on remaining balanced and not falling flat on my face again.

  This time when I stood, my body remained upright. The movement was stiff and mechanical, but I was no longer forced to drag myself across the earth. I took several experimental steps, metal joints creaking as I adjusted to my new form.

  A helmet caught my attention, half-buried in the dirt nearby. I reached down with my original arm and lifted it free. The visor was intact, perfect for hiding my eyeless face. I placed it over my head, lowering the faceplate. The world dimmed slightly through the narrow vision slits, then seemed to push out until I could see clearly without any obstruction. Once again, my strange, alien nature has shown through. This Mind Sight ability seems to allow me vision past any barrier that is close to my face. Interesting.

  As I tested my new mechanical limbs, a blue status box materialized before me.

  I blinked at the message, unsure what to make of it. The ability had ranked up; that had to be beneficial, though I couldn't recall exactly what the ranking system meant. I waved the notification away with my flesh hand.

  A glint of metal caught my attention. Half-buried in the dirt lay a rusted greatsword, its blade still mostly intact despite the obvious wear. I reached down with my new, mechanical arm and wrapped my fingers around the worn grip. The weapon came free with a shower of loose soil. Though corroded, the blade retained its deadly edge. This would serve me far better than the crude cane against the wasteland's numerous foul creatures.

  Now for the real test. I approached the sloped wall of the mass grave, my five mechanical legs moving in an unnatural rhythm. The first attempt to scale the incline ended with me sliding back down, metal limbs scrabbling uselessly against the loose dirt. On the second try, I drove my artificial appendages deeper into the soil, using them like picks to haul myself upward.

  My new body creaked and groaned with the effort, but held together. Inch by inch, I climbed. The greatsword strapped across my back shifted with each movement. Finally, my leading limb caught the lip of the pit. With one final heave, I pulled myself over the edge and onto level ground.

  I rose to my full height, testing my balance on the firmer soil. The mechanical legs responded smoothly now, working in concert to keep me stable. No more dragging myself through the dirt like a worm. With this enhanced mobility and the sword as a weapon, I could better defend myself against whatever monsters lay ahead.

  I turned westward, toward the distant mountains, and began walking with measured steps. My new form may have been ungainly, but it was far more formidable than before.