Chaotic Craftsman Worships The Cube

Time froze for him as it happened, his thoughts moving in a blur as he was knocked down and having an answer as to what had by all accounts killed him before he even hit the ground, cursing the gods, even as he struggled to find a solution.

Magic nullification of all things on the first floor, in the first fucking second? YOU ABSOLUTE ASSHOLES! God, I want you all dead so fucking much!

It was the only explanation, even if it was already a bad sign for how that floor would go. He may not have been wearing the church of Myriad but the defensive enchantments he’d placed on his new jacket should have been able to stop any regular attack, not shoot right through both them and the better part of his flesh, leaving only the question of how he was possibly supposed to survive that in the time he had left.

He didn’t know how long a person could live without a beating heart but by all accounts, time had to be short for him. There was nothing to pump his blood, nothing to circulate the vital oxygen his every cell needed to live, with options feeling slim. He could stretch seconds into minutes easily enough, all it left was finding a way to deal with it using the time he had.

…Yeah, I’m just going to casually deal with the loss of one of my vitalist of vital organs, I’m sure this will be fine. Myriad, if you’re listening up there, make sure you avenge me for this awful bullshit!

It was only one mind complaining though, the rest in his head had other, more important tasks. The pain was tremendous but experiencing and suffering through it was regulated to only ten of the ones in his head, letting the rest focus on how he’d overcome the present situation as all of the things he knew were pulled from his memories to try and arrange in some useful order.

Hoping for help was instantly out. While other magics wouldn’t be blocked off on the first three floors, meaning either life or light magic could have potentially saved him, Thera was likely way too far away to get to him in time to help, even with bind showing her the way, and Jake would need to teleport practically randomly to find him, meaning the two healers were out as options.

Then what about healing myself?

He still had his necklace, his failsafe for both death and hell, but he’d already activated it and all it would do was slow down the rate he’d die, it wasn’t something that could be used to regrow an entire missing limb, let alone a major organ.

Which means I’m adding ‘research how to improve the effectiveness of life and light enchantments’ to my very long, ever-growing list of tasks but until then, I need another option.

If healing himself wasn’t an option then what about remaking himself? He could materialize meat and plant cells, could he make himself something to act as a functional heart in place of the one he’d lost, at least until he could get some real help?

…Closer, but still impossible. My body would reject it instantly… Or would it? I already have one integrated body skill and I’ve already seen from the chimeras that getting one based around homunculi is possible which means if I do that then it might actually properly integrate into my body, could that be something?

…No, damn it, that won’t work either. I know the structure of a single animal cell and only a couple plant ones, even if my body could take them in, I don’t think it would be possible to arrange them in a way that would replicate the workings of a proper heart. I wouldn’t be able to make it process the proper stimuli, at best it would only delay my inevitable death for a moment. God fucking damn it! Who fires a shot the second a person enters the trial you goddamn stupid fucking bitch-

Another mind regulated to being angry at the gods with a few more joining it, even if others focused in on that one’s original line of thought. Making a proper, living heart was currently impossible for him but who said it needed to be a living heart?

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I know people would occasionally get artificial hearts back on Earth if they were in enough danger and waiting for a real transplant, who’s to say I can’t manage the same thing? Something that will just pump the blood for me until I can get this fixed?

After all, he actually knew the structure of his body to an almost unnatural degree. He’d been disassembled in the life tower and with deep connection, he’d been able to see through the eyes of others who’d looked at him, both in there and beyond. Thera, the occasional light, life, and death spirit that would hang around her, and even both Lux and Vividus themselves when he’d been around either of them to train his skill a bit against their particularly alien and powerful minds or get some healing. He may not have known how he was built on a biological level but on a purely structural one? That was easy.

Which left him with a potential path forward and bringing the new question of how he’d actually pull it off. He could tell that whatever had struck him had disappeared out of his flesh, either being teleported away if it was a true piece of matter or else collapsing if it was the structure of a spell but that left him to take stock of himself the best he could, finding the results far from pleasant as he did his best to do a mental evaluation based on the pain he was in.

The front of the ribs had been destroyed as they passed through them but it looked as though the back had been left practically untouched, with whatever caused the damage vanishing before they could do any harm going out too.

A small blessing but one that didn’t extend to the damage sustained. Blunt force trauma wasn’t some simple thing, having a ball pass through his flesh was likely worse than having a knife with the way the damage would present itself. There were no clean cuts, only tears and a crushed pulp of meat and bone fragments left in its place, not the sort of thing he could use as a foundation when trying to make himself an artificial organ, meaning if he was going to do it, he needed to clean it up first.

…Nope, don’t like that option, think of another one.

…

Think of another one!

…

Come on brain, what’s the point of having so much raw intelligence if I can’t think of another one!

…

UGH, FUCKING FINE! STUPID FUCKING NO GOOD FUCK GODS AND THEIR STUPID FUCKING TRIALS AND HOW THE HELL AM I ALWAYS TREATED LIKE THE BAD GUY WHEN THEY MAKE SHIT LIKE THIS? GODDAMN IT, WHEN I GET OUT OF HERE I’M DOING WHATEVER I NEED TO TO AWAKEN MY FUCKING SACRILEGE-

A new mind lost to focus on hating the gods of that world while the rest did what they had to. If the wound as he had it was too messy then that just meant he’d need to clean it up to the best of his abilities and to do that, a lump of steel was pulled from one of his rings, its shape taking on the form of a hollow cylinder with a razor’s edge and before he could lose another microsecond to his anger and hesitation, he plunged the metal into his chest, strengthening it to cut away the damage that first attack had caused and reshaping it as it reached the correct depth to scoop away what had remained of his heart and ribs, regulating ten more minds to deal with the additional pain, all of them giving cries about when he’d finally gain pain resistance as a skill.

Cries the still-rational part of him ignored, focusing on the task at hand as mythril and more materials were pulled from his rings and shaped under his magics, made to imitate the parts he was aiming to replace and enhancing them in every way he could with the rapid enchantments he’d constructed and all of the magic materials he had to power it, forcing the end product into its place as it clamped down, slowing what bleeding there’d be to a trickle while holding still the rest of his muscle and sinew, not freeing him from the damage he’d taken but at the very least ensuring he’d live, even if the quick job had left his left arm a loss. Too much in that area was damaged beyond his means to be able to use it.

But I’ll live for now. He sighed to himself. Now to just survive this and then go get myself a new heart…

His minds were still swarming, ideas connecting to one another in a constant flood of connections with one made in particular at the thought, nearly making him yell out.

No, no I’m not doing that, that’s absolutely insane!

It was what he told himself at least, but through the denial, something different within his subconscious mind instead sent an appeal. His desire for power and strength and how, no matter how insane it might have been, losing his heart could potentially act as a new path to both if he was only willing to take a risk and experiment a bit.

…Damn it, fine, I have plenty of time to think about it. I just need to survive this first.

The trial had already fired one deadly shot, he just needed to get through whatever would come for him next.