Glorious Grafting

Happy New Year fellow Tarnished!!!

***

The sky was overcast, covering the humble little town of Frysta with an air of gloom. Miquel adjusted his long grey cloak, carefully tucking his dirty locks out of sight, something he had been doing ever since he'd picked up his new...hobby.

Children weren't as receptive when he was dirty, but they were receptive to something a bit more shiny.

He quickly made his way past the grimy roads of the slums and reached the cobbled streets of the western part of the city, his short stature allowing him to vanish into the teeming crowd, reaching his most successful spot.

Poorer children were susceptible children.

Miquel leaned against the crumbling stone wall of an alley, half-hidden in shadow, his greasy hair plastered against his pockmarked face. The dim light from the rising sun barely touched his sunken eyes, which gleamed with a sickly hunger as they followed the boy playing in the street.

His new target.

His tunic, stained with the filth of days past, reeked of sweat and rot, his nails blackened with grime. He licked his cracked lips, revealing yellowed teeth, and beckoned the boy with a slow, crooked finger.

"Come 'ere, lad," he rasped, his voice as rough as gravel. "Got somethin' for ye. Something nice."

The boy hesitated, glancing back toward the bustling square, but curiosity got the better of him. He took a few cautious steps toward the alley, his eyes wide, innocent.

Miquel grinned, a twisted, leering smile that oozed malice. He fumbled in his filthy pocket, pulling out a gleaming gold coin, holding it up in the faint light. "See this? Yours, if ye like. Just come a little closer."

The boy's eyes flickered to the coin, gleaming like a lure in the muck. He edged forward, just beyond the reach of the shadows.

Miquel's breath came in shallow, excited gasps. He stepped back into the alley, the stench of him thick in the air, mixing with the sour odour of the refuse that lined the street. His eyes never left the boy, his filthy hand outstretched, inviting him deeper.

The boy took one more step.

"That's right," Miquel muttered, voice trembling with anticipation. "Just a little closer."

But just as a sense of triumph came over his wretched heart, the boy's eyes widened, staring at something horrifying behind him.

"Wha-

And all was black.

***

The blackness receded in bursts. Occasional flashes of him high in the air, effortlessly gliding past forests and mountains. Weightless, and winged.

Miquel opened his eyes to horror. His dirty tunic ripped away, leaving him bare while his limbs were strapped down to a thin, cold metal table. The blurriness took a while to recede, and the first things that came into focus were two blood-red orbs fixed to a demonic head-obsidian, cracked skin.

The terror in Miquel's chest rose, bubbling into a scream so powerful he nearly tore his vocal cords. His strength was useless against the iron bands binding him, but those monstrous eyes—their mirth—mocked him.

How dare a monster judge him?

His screams gave way to gasps of exhaustion. It was then he saw Him.

A halo of golden light embracing a face too handsome, sculpted to describe. Calm, peaceful, and serene was the aura that spilt out from him. A toga shone with golden-white, the sign of the divine.

Relief flooded Miquel's chest as tears blurred his vision. Marika—his prayers had been answered!

Tears obscured his vision, as calmness overtook his heart, denying him the scene of the being he hoped was his saviour picking up a long scalpel whose edge gleamed in the light of numerous torches.

***

Godrick had always found the screams of his subjects annoying, but Quilath seemed to enjoy it. He had no idea why.

The blade expertly cut into the subject's skin as he went about his usual dissection—the skin, muscles, and lastly, the organs. Grafting was an art that he'd come to enjoy; especially when he realised that it was vastly, vastly underrepresented in the game.

Glueing limbs on oneself gave power, but was the lowest, and crudest form of the art.

"Raaargghhh...arghh....rah!!!"

The man's screams continued as Godrick surgically pulled off the skin akin to a carpet and began to work on the muscles. [Graft] helped him keep his subjects alive, much to their horror and suffering, but it was no easy task.

Piece by piece, Godrick removed pectorals, back muscles, quadriceps, and biceps, placing them into a vat of alcohol for preservation. Though his subjects were kept alive for as long as possible, the real challenge lay not in their screams, but in the concentration required to maintain their fragile lives through the taxing process of [Graft].

The organs were next, and all were cut and preserved except for the brain. He never could do much to the brain.

Quilath watched the procedure with growing interest. The absolute concentration that took over his face when keeping a subject alive with [Graft] seemed to interest her. His Focus was being perpetually drained, but the upkeep met the demand.

"Urghh!!!"

The gurgles came back once Godrick began putting the man back together akin to a puzzle.

[Graft]

[Graft]

[Graft]

[Gra...

He had stopped sweating a long time ago. Yet, such precision and Focus activated his formerly dormant sweat glands regardless. The room smelt of flowers and honey as the scent of his sweat overpowered the reek of iron.

"Raagh!!"

The man spluttered and coughed when his skin was pulled back over him and Godrick's eyes filled with anticipation. He had never put back a body that remained living before.

[Graft (Passive/Active) Level 6->7: You intrinsically understand the anatomy of creatures you butcher or kill. You can attach, or replace parts of your body with another, gaining their strength but also their resentment. The success rate is less than 45->60 per cent. Excessive grafting leads to madness, and failure, leading to a splintered mind.]

A small sigh of satisfaction escaped him as a rush of information found home in his increasingly powerful mind. It was nothing like what he experienced when his Weapon skills levelled up.

It was not instinct that increased, but Knowledge. Knowledge that he never had crammed in his head.

Finally

He flexed his fingers. Hybrid Grafts were finally in his grasp.

"Wha-

[Human Killed. +20 EXP]

A swipe of his hand severed the man's spine, ending his miserable life with a dismissive flick. The tool had outlived its use.

Now he could manufacture the Adroitus Ancalagon, supersoldiers [Graft['d and transformed by his hand. All he needed were materials.

***

Godrick walked out of the large Grafting Module which was lined with vials, jars and anatomy charts to the main corridor. It led up to the giant pyramid-esk structure that Quilath had not finished working on.

She insisted that it was something that would surprise him but the mischievous glint in her eyes made him doubt it. He was appreciative that she had begun to warm up to him - his plans would've taken a large hit if she hadn't. Production was essential he realised, when running a Kingdom, or would-be Empire.

The ceiling expanded even further as he made his way to the area behind his lair - Godwyn's Rest. In the game, one would meet the eldrich abomination that was the Death Prince's body, but what he found was the twisted and wiggling flesh that was a mass of Deathroot.

He was happy to take responsibility for cleansing and harvesting them. The more the Deathroot, the merrier.

His inventory wasn't the only thing that had changed in the past year. The Character Sheet had grown quite a bit.

(Character Sheet :

 Godrick the Golden ( Level 15 )

 Age: Twenty-five and three months old

 EXP: 26,840/16,000 (+)

 HP: 300

 FP: 495

Strength: 51

 Dexterity: 43.6

 Endurance: 41.4

 Vigor: 30

 Mind: 28.4 -> 49.5

 Intelligence: 25.2

 Faith: 92

 Skills:

[Observe (Active) Level 2]

[Order Meditation (Passive) Level 15: FP regeneration (+13 FP/s). Mind +0.5. Intelligence +0.5.]

[Godrick's Glory (Active) Level 1/8: (3/10)]

[Jar Apostle's Cumber (Active): Regrets Resolved (0/10)]

[Graft (Passive/Active) Level 7: The success rate is 60 per cent.]

[Constitution of the Erdtree (Passive): +10 Strength. +10 Dexterity. +10 Endurance. +20 Faith]

[Demigod Constitution (Passive): Faith +10.]

[Shaman Physiology (Passive): Removes chance of failure during Grafting.]

[Greater Blessing of Ancient Dragon Lannseax (Passive): Lightning (+20% resistance). Ability to increase physical stats beyond the limit of the human race via training (10+). +3 Strength. +5 Endurance. +5 Vigor.]

[Greataxe Mastery (Passive) Level 2: 5 percent extra damage.]

[Greatspear Mastery (Passive) Level 6: 45 percent extra damage.]

Incantations:

[Erdtree Incantations:

-Golden Vow]

[Two Fingers Incantations:

-Heal]

[Dragon Cult Incantations:

-Lansseax's Glaive

-Ancient Dragon Lightning Spear

-Electrify Armament

-Honed Bolt]

[Golden Order Incantations:

-Order's Blade

-Order Healing

-Immutable Shield]

[Godskin Apostle Incantations

-Black Flame

-Black Flame Blade]

[Aspects Of The Crucible

-Wings

-Horns

-Tail]

Great Runes (1/8):

[Godwyn's Great Rune (Active): Increases all stats by 100%])

Soulbound Weapons:

[Amber Greatspear

-Vigor's Embrace

-Starlight Reprisal])

Massive, angelic wings burst out of his back as his Amber Greatspear manifested in his hand. The faint halo over his head turned brighter, more real.

He had a nest of Drakes to kill.

***