Mother Nature is doing cartwheels in her grave

"Then you're not gonna survive here. Follow me." The old man said, beckoning Mags further into the grove. Upon reaching a clearing, he gathered some logs into a circle of rocks and tried to light it with an old and overused fire starter stick. Mags, however, got the jump on the campfire, setting it ablaze with a disposable lighter. The old man, content with the heat, took out a cigarette from his coat pocket and lit it, putting it in his mouth. "Want one?" He asked, handing Mags one. With a quick snap of his fingers, Mags lit his cigarette and took a drag, sighing as the effect of nicotine calmed his nerves. "Magic, eh?" The old man asked, raising an eyebrow. "Nah, just some parlor tricks I learned on the road." Mags replied, twirling the cigarette between his fingers.

Sitting in silence for a while, Mags pondered what the old man had said before, before asking "What do you mean, I won't survive without credits?" The old man laughed, continuing "Come on boyo, it's not like you fell out of the sky. Common folk work, get credits, spend credits to live more, work more, spend more. Simple as. Speaking of which, that cancer stick will cost you 3 credits." "If you put it that way, makes sense. You look a bit skinny so I'll make you a deal: I don't have money right now, but I have food." Mags replied, taking out an apple from his rucksack. The old man was astonished, mouth agape, drooling as he stared at the apple. "That's food? Actual food? Where did you find it?" "It's a secret. Do you want it?" "Kinda stupid question innit? Gimme that."

Receiving the apple, the old man bit into it, a crisp sound adorning his ears and fresh sweet juice trickled down his chin. Staring at Mags, the old man wiped his tears away, smiling. "Thank you for the treat, I appreciate it. It's been a while since I've had actual food, not that kind of rubbish they give out to common folks." Sitting down, the old man nodded his head towards Mags "I'm an old man, a pleasure." Replying in kind, Mags spoke "Nice to meet you, I'm M-" "Oi, hold your tongue you fool!" The old man said, throwing the core of the already eaten apple at Mags "Are you a blooming git? Have you forgotten how heavy names are?!"

Mags reeled back from the force that the apple core had when it struck him in the forehead. Rubbing it, he retorted "What the hell are you on about? It's natural to say your name when you first meet someone." "Yes, if you're stupid. …Hold on a minute, you're not from around here, are you?" The old man asked, eyeing Mags up and down "Of course I am, why are you asking that?" "Because there's no one around here that can use magic." "Nooooo, I don't use magic, what are you talking about. Well, even if I wasn't from around here, how could you tell? You're an old man!" "It's because I'm an old man that I have seen a lot. And you're a textbook-case of a fool, handing your name out so easily. In this world, names are the most expensive thing. And here you are, almost wasting it away because of some pleasantry."

Tossing a branch into the campfire, Mags proposed "What about dungeons items? You'd think those would be way more valuable than a name." "Dungeons?" The old man asked incredulously, laughing until he wheezed, doubling over "Dungeons and magic haven't existed since God knows how long! Are you taking the mick?" "Why would I? Also, speak normal you fish-and-chips bastard." "…Okay, now I definitely know you're not from our world. Fish are extinct and vegetables can't grow on dead lands. There hasn't been real food around here for ages; Water's too toxic for anything besides 'human' consumption."

Mags sat across the old man, running a hand through his own hair "If that's the case then fine. I'm a raider, nice to meet you." "Likewise." "But let's rewind a bit. What do you mean, names are expensive?" "Well, names are proof of ownership. If you know someone's name, they're essentially your slave. That's an easy way to scam unsuspecting nobs: act all friendly and introduce yourself. Bish bash bosh, they tell you theirs and bob's your uncle, you now own them. But I wouldn't worry too much about that, names are rare nowadays."

"How come?" Mags asked, taking another drag from his cigarette "From what I saw, there's a lot of people flying in the city over there." "People? Bah, more like drones. Mindless fools or working ants, doing the bidding of their overlords. Fault's in that blasted genome." "Genome?" "Yes, genome. Some time ago some nobheads decided to play God and managed to sequence and splice the human genome, essentially allowing them to alter their bodies and even add features from other things: animals, plants, you name it. If it has genetic material, it can be implemented. After that was done, well... they left. Patrons, sponsors, constellations, what have you: left us high and dry to die. Took the dungeons with them too."

"Sounds rough." Mags said, putting out the cigarette beside him. "It is rough, folks HAVE to give out their names if they want work, those that DO have names." The old man continued "Nowadays cloning is all the rage, can't tell if they're a child or an adult in the body of one. For most folks, death is the most pleasing alternative." "Looks like this place is messed up." "Looks, smells, sounds, what have you. Point is, do not say your name to anyone, unless you like being a mindless, shambling shell of a man, that is." "Then it's a perfect opportunity." "Yes, so you should… what." "Yeah, I mean, there's bound to be a lot of treasure there." "Treasure? Not really, just some equipment." "Not the research labs, everywhere else." The old man furrowed his brow, pensive "If you're able to enter the casinos and the homes of the big-shots, then yes. But otherwise it's curtains." "Then I just have to enter and not be found!" "Wait, before you do all that, answer me this: How in the ABSOLUTE HELL do you plan to pull off such a heist?"

Mags smiled and pulled out another apple, handing it to the old man "Simple: Step 1, I break in; Step 2, no one knows who it was, since they're brainwashed; Step 3, they think the alarm was faulty; Step 4, I get off scott-free. Simple, no?" "Makes perfect sense, if you're a lunatic." "Oh please. Lunatic, moonatic, sunatic, it's all the same. Watch, I'm gonna break in the biggest building over there, loot everything they have and shut off the mind control machine." "There isn't a mind control machine." "That's what you think, no one can mind control so many people, it HAS to be a machine." "Have you considered the possibility that there might instead be someone with the ability to claim names?" "That's some divine intervention business. If dungeons are gone, why would someone with so much power remain? My vote is still on the machine." Huffing, the old man turned his back "I'm not going to enable your delusions anymore, I'm leaving." "Suit yourself." Mags replied, standing up. Taking out some canned food, he left it nearby the campfire "Here, as payment for the info. After I'm done raiding the city don't forget to go there as well, I'll leave some supplies for you."

Mags returned to the road and wandered around for a couple of hours, formulating and expanding his plan while he walked: The pathways seemed too peaceful for an autocratic regime, there wouldn't be such a lax grasp on the people. There was something missing here, and before Mags could plunder this dungeon of its riches, he had to find it. And as soon as it turned nighttime, he found it: the avian people he saw during the day had transformed into mindless shambling masses of flesh, groaning and fusing into ungodly abominations. "Holy, that's both terrifying and awesome." Inching himself closer and closer to the entrance of the city he peered around the corner using a pocket mirror: the creature guarding the gate had blank eyes, drooling while it pawed at a monitor.

'Well, time to do this. Let's hope my skill cooperates with me tonight.' Mumbling an incantation under his breath, the runes on Mags' arms activated and he turned translucent, allowing him to pass unnoticed by the monstrosities. Mags wandered the streets for a couple of hours, getting the lay of the land, potential roads to escape and places he could acquire anything of value. Looking around, he spotted the first target of his rampage: a small, dingy-looking gambling den with a poorly lit sign above, the words 'Mone fast ere' depicted on it. Slowly crossing the street, he peered through a window inside: most people, if they could be called that, were lying on the floor, either asleep, drunk or something else. In the far back near the countertop a gross, overweight whale of a man ran his fingers through a bag filled with gold coins. Jackpot.

Taking out a rock and a pocket knife from inside the rucksack, he held the knife in his hand tightly, thinking 'Next time I leave without gearing up I'll kick my own ass.' Preparing himself against the worst, he chucked the rock with all his strength against the window, shattering it, which was followed by a blaring alarm. Mags positioned himself right by the door, and as the morbidly obese man walked out to see what hooligan had dared to ruin his business, Mags struck: positioning himself behind the man, he put his hand against his mouth and pressed the knife against the back of his neck, quickly pulling him inside. Once inside Mags pushed the man into the ground, straddling him while the knife pointed against his neck "Okay you fat bastard, where's the good stuff? Where's the moolah, the green, the fat stacks, the money?"

Seeing the man quiet, Mags decked him straight in the jaw, breaking it. The man, never having known pain before, started freaking out over the damage the little escapade had brought him. Which only prompted another punch to the head. "I'm asking nicely blubbernuts, gimme the gold and no one gets hurt." "You-you mean credits-ts?" The man asked, shaking. 'Now this is a surprise, they call gold credits.' Mags thought, already seeing a fortune in his future. "Yes, credits. Hand'em over."

The whale-man stood up and walked over to the safe, upon which he ripped it off the wall and threw it at Mags with all his might. The thought that maybe he could get the jump on such a violent animal filled him with glee, but Mags was faster: the runes on his arm shone, making the safe float in place while a cyan glow ripped the safe apart, metal plate after metal plate hitting the ground in quick succession. The man fell to his knees in despair as Mags slowly walked up to him, the golden coins trickling inside the rucksack on his back.

His mind pulsing and his thoughts raging against his rationality, he snarled "…You tried to kill me. You TRIED. TO KILL ME. After I asked, no, BEGGED you to cooperate you try to pull this off." Mags repeated, delivering blow after blow on the body of the monstruous man, getting more bloodied by the second. After a few minutes, Mags admired his handywork: a red, fleshy, pulsing mass of pain and suffering. "SECURI-" but the cry was unanswered as Mags activated [Shattered Realm], rending the previous fat bastard into meaty chunks falling upon the floor. Mags heaved and threw up from the headache caused by the usage of his skill, before noticing what could be described as a miracle: from the carcass of the man a golden light erupted, piercing the bodies of the monstrosities inside the gambling house, filling the establishment in dazzling fanfare, as the fleshy creatures reverted into human forms.

'What. The absolute. Fuck. Was that. I was not myself, I was NOT myself. I WAS NOT MYSELF! Okay, calm down Mags, try to see the brighter side. If you kill the bosses, the people become human again?' Mags forced himself to think positively, beaming. 'Well that makes it easier, I now have a motive to break into their homes: It's now a crusade for mankind! God I love religion!' Pocketing the riches into his rucksack, he bolted out the door and grabbed his climbing items, jumping into the wall and recasting his translucent magic, almost slipping from the aftereffects. Staring at the gambling house, he saw disfigured beings in metal armor burst into the building. One second, three seconds, twenty seconds. Then an explosion rang out from inside, filling it with flames. The people that were 'cured' ran outside, screaming in pain before being gunned down by the same metal armors that had entered moments prior.

Mags was in shock, his mind racing. He knew how depraved people could be, but to gun down civilians, just because? That wasn't right. He had to do something, anything. But not at that moment, because the sun had started to rise. Scrambling to reach an alleyway fast enough, he doubled down on his concentration to boost the spell he had been casting fivefold, [Skoll's Delight]. Before activating it, he said a quick prayer as his arms burned, the runes on them glowing red hot: the sun, that had been slowly rising in the sky seemed to halt, before coming to a full stop. In order to move undetected, Mags cast one of the most basic forms of magic, [Create stone] and threw it at random places and windows, drawing attention away from him. As he dived into the dark, dingy alleyway Mags took a deep breath, allowing himself to calm down. His skill had, surprisingly enough, worked like a charm, allowing him to cast his spells without plunging him into a nightmare of a world. Feeling himself whole again, he released the spell, allowing the sun to continue to rise as of nothing had happened, and the stones that he had thrown to turn into an ephemeral mist.

Mags stuck his head outside his hiding hole to observe the world outside: as soon as the orange sky turned a clear blue, the fleshy creatures that had roamed the streets at night reverted back to their human-avian forms resuming their behavior that Mags had seen the day prior, like ants moving from workplace to workplace. Pulling out his journal, he started to write 'After speaking with a homeless man, I entered the city at night. Scoped out this place and raided a dingy gambling den. After a scuffle I ended up killing the owner, in self defense of course. The strangest thing though was that after that, the people turned back into humans. I think the mind control machine might have a counterpart: the body-altering machine. For now, I shall stay in an alleyway until it's safe to leave again.' Closing the journal, Mags hid behind a dumpster and waited until it turned into nighttime again.