Frank knew there were only two steps required to reach the meditative state. The first was to clear his mind of every distraction, and the second was to focus entirely on one chosen topic. As he sat preparing, he began stripping away the noise within him—his fears, his anxieties, even the gnawing hunger and weakness that threatened to consume him.
Every sensation that could derail his purpose was cast aside, leaving only silence. His goal was singular: meditation. Frank had come a long way from the days when his meditative skill was ranked F, when he was little more than a novice fumbling in the dark. Now, though not yet a master, he had grown into something greater—a practitioner who could be likened to a mediocre master, one who understood the discipline and patience required to bend meditation to his will.
After a long while of filtering out his feelings and numbing himself to the world and its fears, Frank finally slipped into the meditative state. A faint aura of light blue energy began to swirl around him, ethereal yet strangely physical, wrapping him in a quiet cocoon of power.
All that remained was the second step—choosing a topic to anchor his meditation. Closing his eyes tighter, Frank directed his thoughts toward the skill that had haunted him since its acquisition: Escape.
He traced its roots back to the moment he first obtained it, reflecting on what it truly meant to escape. Yet his thoughts did not stop there. They dug deeper, unraveling the mechanics hidden within the skill's description, questioning the very essence of its conditions.
And as his mind sharpened, one fundamental question rose above all others, echoing in the silence of his meditation: What are the targets?
As Frank wrestled with the question, something deep within him stirred. His eyes snapped open, yet they no longer carried the warmth of life. They looked numb, hollow, devoid of humanity.
In that moment, Frank was no longer half-soul being nor half-human—he had become something else entirely, something greater, though he could not yet comprehend it. A strange power coursed through him, and as his eyes widened, a luminous blue light began to spread across them, glowing like fire trapped beneath ice.
His face shifted into something uncanny, his presence altered. With those new, radiant eyes, Frank looked eerily different, transformed into a figure both mysterious and unsettling, all while remaining locked in meditation.
Deep within, Frank thought seriously about the skill, his mind circling around the cryptic word targets written in the description. What did it truly mean? His thoughts unfolded in layers:
"Could it mean that I can only escape from mammals, like humans and animals…?"
"Or could it mean that I can escape from a variety of beings—human beings, soul beings, or any kind of creature that exists in this world and seeks to harm me…?"
"Or perhaps it means something far greater—that I can escape from anything at all, so long as I recognize it as a target…"
The questions echoed in his mind, each possibility heavier than the last. The ambiguity gnawed at him, forcing him to confront not just the mechanics of the skill, but the very boundaries of what it meant to escape.
Frank thought long and hard about what his Escape skill was truly capable of. Each of the three possibilities seemed plausible, each befitting a skill that demanded the sacrifice of his very life force to activate. And it was precisely because the cost was so steep that he scrutinized it so critically.
Was it limited to mammals, like humans and animals? Could it extend to soul beings and other entities that roamed the world? Or was it broader still, allowing him to escape from anything he recognized as a target?
The uncertainty gnawed at him, but Frank refused to rush. Instead, he resolved to extend his meditation, to probe deeper into the essence of the skill, and to determine which of these options was most likely to succeed when the moment of truth arrived.
The first option seemed to perfectly align with what escape was meant to do, and Frank might have chosen it without hesitation—if not for the insight he gained by reasoning further. As he delved deeper into the skill's essence, he realized escape could likely do more than simply free him from mammals.
His meditation revealed a broader potential, a possibility that the skill could extend beyond the obvious. With patience and focus, Frank discovered he could probably execute the second option successfully, provided he truly understood its nature.
In that moment, he recognized how far he had come—learning not only about his skills, but also about the intricate way the status system functioned and the strange, almost sentient nature of Meditation itself.
The first reason Frank was willing to attempt the second option rather than settle for the first was the realization that his escape skill was no ordinary ability. It was not something earned through training or chance—it was a gift handed to him by Death itself, one of the most powerful forces in existence.
That alone elevated its potential far beyond the mundane. The second reason lay in the steep conditions required to activate it. Meditation for twelve hours, the sacrifice of fifty points of life force, and the brief three-second window of freedom—these were not trivial demands.
They were the kind of conditions that hinted at extraordinary possibilities. Frank had learned through hardship that nothing in life was gained without sacrifice, and if he was to gamble his very essence, then the reward had to be greater than simply escaping from mammals. It had to mean something more, something worthy of the price.
As for the third option, Frank did not dismiss it outright. Deep down, he knew it was not beyond his realm of possibilities. The idea of escaping from anything he recognized as a target carried immense allure, a promise of ultimate freedom.
Yet he also understood the timing was wrong. Attempting such a feat now would almost certainly end in failure, for he lacked the strength, mastery, and insight required to wield the skill at that level.
Still, the possibility lingered like a distant horizon—something attainable in the near future, once he had grown stronger and wiser. For now, Frank held back, choosing patience over recklessness, and set the third option aside until the day he was ready to claim it.
The next step in Frank's reasoning was, of course, to wonder how his escape skill would actually function.
Would the skill present him with a question, asking what he wanted to escape from? Would it whisk him away by teleportation, or would it simply erase the danger itself? Could it truly guarantee freedom, or was it nothing more than a gamble?
Doubt gnawed at him, especially since the last time he had attempted to use the skill, he hadn't escaped at all—he had only lost half of his life force. These questions swirled endlessly in his mind, threatening to consume his focus.
Yet before he could think further or uncover an answer, glowing texts suddenly materialized before his eyes, cutting through his meditation like a blade. The following messages appeared:
[Status
You have successfully meditated for 12 hours.
*Death has taken note of you.*
The skill "Escape (C)" has been generated!
You have lost 50 health.
You have lost half of your life.
*Death smiles mischievously at your sacrifice*]
[What do you want to escape from, "Frank"?]