Chapter 2 Part 4: Stats Exist!
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Chapter 2 Part 4: Stats Exist!
The moment they were back in the ravine, Abigail let out a breathless laugh.
“Okay,” she said, spinning in place once before she even realized she was doing it. “Okay, that was incredible.”
Ethan smiled despite himself, watching her energy spill over now that they were back in familiar space. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“No, I am enjoying this the correct amount,” she shot back as she paced in small circles. “Okay. Okay. That was—yeah. That was exactly what I needed it to be.”
Ethan shook his head, watching her with the wary affection of someone who knew she was about to talk herself into doing something reckless. “You say that like we didn’t just confirm that reality has a user interface.”
“Well, at least reality inside the dungeon does!” she said while sticking out her tongue at Ethan. “Also, the obelisk isn’t just showing information. It’s deciding who it shows it to.”
Ethan folded his arms. “You think it recognizes the person touching it.”
“It has to in order to show me my information and you yours, but how does it not show it to others yet still let us take pictures? That is the million dollar question.”
Ethan nodded. They’d already proven the important part: the obelisk display didn’t behave like normal visible light. It resolved for the person touching the facet, and it refused to resolve for anyone else, but strangely if the person touching the facet took a picture of it, the text was cleanly captured and able to be seen by anyone when looking at the photo later.
Abigail slowed her pacing and pointed at the screen. “And it’s not projected,” she added, more thoughtful now. “The text wasn’t floating in the air. It was in the crystal and you could see depth to the characters.”
“Yeah,” Ethan said. “It’s part of the obelisk itself.”
She dropped into the other camp chair Ethan had set back up. “Okay,” Abigail said, practically vibrating. “We compare. For real this time.”
┌──────────────────────────────────────────────┐ │ Abigail Carter │ │ Huntress │ │ Human │ │ │ │ CLASS: Not chosen │ │ EXP: 0 │ │ │ │ HEALTH: 19 MANA: 22 │ │ │ │ STR: 10 CON: 9 INT: 11 │ │ MNT: 11 NMB: 10 CHM: 12 LUC: 10 │ │ │ │ SKILLS: │ │ - Archery │ │ - Marksmanship │ └──────────────────────────────────────────────┘┌──────────────────────────────────────────────┐ │ Ethan Walker │ │ │ │ Human │ │ │ │ CLASS: Not chosen │ │ EXP: 0 │ │ │ │ HEALTH: 21 MANA: 20 │ │ │ │ STR: 12 CON: 11 INT: 10 │ │ MNT: 10 NMB: 10 CHM: 10 LUC: 10 │ │ │ │ SKILLS: │ │ - Archery │ │ - Marksmanship │ └──────────────────────────────────────────────┘For a few seconds, they just sat there, letting the numbers exist.
“Huntress,” Ethan repeated.
“It’s my identity after all,” she said, entirely too pleased with herself. She pointed just below that. “But is that really the first thing that you have to say? Why does it say Human? I mean good to know we are, but does that not imply also not human when displayed on things like this?”
Ethan followed where she was pointing, then leaned back slightly in his chair.
Abigail froze for half a second. “…Wait,” she said slowly.
Ethan glanced at her. “What?”
She looked back at the word Human, then up at him, eyes lighting up. “Does that mean there are other options?”
He blinked. “Options how?”
She sat up straighter. “Like—elves. Dwarves. Beastmen.”
Ethan opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Her eyes widened further. “Oh my god. Cat people?”
“Abigail,” he said.
“Ethan,” she shot back, pointing at the screen again. “It didn’t have to say human. It chose to.”
He sighed, rubbing at his temple. “I’m not saying that’s wrong. It probably wouldn’t bother saying it if there wasn’t a reason.”
She grinned, practically vibrating again. “I knew it.”
“Okay, fine. Moving down,” she said to reel herself back in. “Why do I get a cool title and you get a blank line?”
Ethan glanced at his own screen. “You’ve been calling yourself Huntress since we were, what, fifteen?”
“Sixteen,” she corrected automatically. “But yeah. I’ve used it long enough that it stuck.”
“And I don’t have anything like that,” he said. “So I get nothing.”
She squinted at him. “You’re telling me you don’t secretly think of yourself as something dramatic?”
“No,” he said flatly.
“That explains so much.”
He ignored that. “It also kind of confirms it’s not assigning those. It’s pulling from how you already see yourself.”
Abigail nodded slowly. “Okay. That tracks. I can live with that.”
Her finger slid further down the display.
“Now this,” she said, tapping the next line. “Class: Not chosen.”
Ethan leaned forward a little. “That feels… unfinished.”
“Or waiting,” she said. “Maybe it’s something you actively choose at the obelisk? Like there’s another interaction we haven’t done yet.”
“Maybe,” Ethan said. Then he hesitated. “Or maybe we can’t yet.”
She glanced at him. “Because…? Hrm, then ‘Not chosen’ isn’t actually a choice yet,” she finished. “So why does it say not chosen?”
He nodded toward the line right under it. “EXP. Zero.”
Abigail stared at that for a second, then sighed. “Yeah. That’s annoying.”
“There’s no level,” Ethan said. “Just experience and class. Experience has to be there for a reason, so I think class depends on experience, and we have none…”
She leaned back, frowning. “Which sucks, because we did kill something.”
“We did,” Ethan agreed. “But if the system only starts tracking once you’re inside the dungeon…”
“…then that slime was basically off the clock,” she muttered.
Abigail shook it off and kept going.
“Okay, numbers,” she said, sounding more curious than bothered now. “We’re only two data points, but… do you think ten is average?”
“That was my assumption,” Ethan said. “Everything clusters around it.”
“And our differences make sense,” she added. “Which is honestly more unsettling than if they didn’t.”
She gestured at the health and mana values. “Also. Health and Mana.”
Ethan followed her gaze. “Mana,” he repeated.
She grinned. “Magic exists.”
“That is… definitely what that implies,” he said.
“I cannot wait to figure that out,” she said, almost bouncing again. “But also—why are they different? And how are they calculated?”
“I don’t see anything that looks arbitrary,” Ethan said slowly. “Which makes me think they’re derived from something else.”
She tilted her head, thinking, then glanced at the stat abbreviations. “Okay, so… Strength, Constitution, Intelligence, Charm, Luck. Those are obvious.”
“Mostly,” Ethan said.
She frowned at the remaining letters. “But MNT and NMB?”
“M-N-T. Mint? Oh—MNT might be Mental?” Ethan offered. “Like mental fortitude or something.”
“Oh,” Abigail said. “Yeah, that actually makes sense.”
She stared at the last one. “Which leaves… NMB.”
“Numb?” Ethan tried.
She snorted. “I don’t think that’s it.”
“N-M-B, Nim… Nimba…?” He paused. “Nimble?”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh, that could be it.”
Then she frowned. “Hey. I thought I was more nimble than you.”
Ethan cleared his throat and very deliberately looked away. “Moving on.”
She laughed, letting it go, and scrolled further.
“Skills,” she said. “These are interesting.”
Ethan nodded. “Also identical.”
“And also combat-focused,” she added. “Which feels… pointed.”
“Archery makes sense,” Ethan said. “We were bow hunting yesterday.”
“But marksmanship?” Abigail said. “That’s usually guns.”
She smiled wryly. “And firing a gun during bow season is a really good way to get a visit from a game warden.”
Ethan laughed. “True.”
“But,” she continued, “we are both good with firearms.”
“Which suggests the skills are like the stats,” Ethan said. “A representation of what we already know how to do.”
Abigail leaned back, phone resting loosely in her hands now. “But in anime don’t they usually have guns and stuff not work?”
“Well our phones did as well as the range finder. So maybe this isn’t the full fantasy you are hoping for?”
“Except it clearly says Mana, not even MP, but the word Mana,” Abigail argued.
Ethan didn’t answer right away.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “That part’s not ambiguous.”
Abigail smiled, smaller this time. “Nope.”
They sat with that, the word lingering between them more heavily than any of the numbers had.
After a moment, Abigail exhaled. “Okay,” she said. “Nothing here feels random.”
“And nothing here feels like it’s trying to impress us,” Ethan added.
She grinned faintly. “Yeah, and it’s not even pretending to give us cheat skills.”
The ravine was quiet around them, the crystalline frame waiting patiently behind the tarps.
“Stats exist,” Abigail said again, softer now.
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having read thru some of the text files you sent, makes me wonder - since the obelisk overlaid a magic framework and burned that into their core… why didn’t they feel a rush or surge as their manapool filled to its current level ?
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@dwarf said in Chapter 2 Part 4: Stats Exist!:
having read thru some of the text files you sent, makes me wonder - since the obelisk overlaid a magic framework and burned that into their core… why didn’t they feel a rush or surge as their manapool filled to its current level ?
i’ve went back and forth on whether people should feel something on first touch or not. i was at not when I was writing this part, but then also contemplated changing it.
It won’t be a huge story difference for the protagonists anyway. But when the rest of the gates start popping, this would be something that the military scientists would latch on to.
I still have this note in my world concept file. which implies there has to be something for science to figure out. I still may switch it up. this is why i am dumping this out. in parts.
## Dungeon Adaptation Syndrome (Scientific Classification) > [Planned Entry – becomes public knowledge after Year 2 / Arc 3] > See also: *Author_Secrets.md → "Obelisk Contact Rewrite"* ### Overview Following the global emergence of dungeons, a pattern of physiological anomalies was identified among individuals who made direct contact with dungeon obelisks. The scientific community provisionally designates this condition as **Dungeon Adaptation Syndrome (DAS)**. -
Random note: I really like how well the AI is performing because I disallowed internet lookups. I even forgot i disallowed and asked for something and it refused me.
