The outcasts odyssey, p.1
The Outcast's Odyssey, page 1
The Outcast's Odyssey: A Tale of Nano-Enhancement (A Litrpg Progressive Fantasy)
A. Morrow
Copyright © 2023 by A. Morrow rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
First Edition: 2023
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Note this book is based on a previous book but has been reedited and renamed.
Book Blurb
In the fractured world of the future, where technology intertwines with the remnants of civilization, Saria, a Nano-Tech Enhanced Survivor, finds herself cast away from the only life she’s ever known. "The Outcast's Odyssey: A Tale of Nano-Enhancement (A LitRPG Progressive Fantasy)" follows her journey through uncharted territories, armed with her wits, her will, and her nano-enhanced abilities.
Saria's story begins in the cloistered safety of her enclave, where the aroma of baking sweets and the hum of busy lives fill the air. Yet, beneath this veneer of normalcy, she harbors a secret and a deep yearning for knowledge. Her life takes an unexpected turn when her latent nano-tech abilities awaken, offering her powers beyond her wildest dreams, but also marking her as a target.
As she ventures beyond the protective barriers of her home, Saria enters the larger labyrinth of the world, where enclaves vie for power and outsiders roam the wilds. Her journey is one of perilous encounters, ancient mysteries, and bewildering changes that test her limits in every conceivable way. From mastering her new abilities to confronting external threats, Saria's odyssey is a relentless pursuit of growth and survival.
With every step, she battles not just the dangers of the world but also the inner turmoil of leaving behind everything she’s ever loved. Her stats and skills progress, reflecting her journey not just physically but emotionally and intellectually. "The Outcast's Odyssey" is a tale of defiance and discovery, as Saria carves her path in a world where technology is both a blessing and a curse, and where her choices will shape the future of all who dwell in the fractured realms.
Join Saria in this gripping LitRPG progressive fantasy, where her journey is fraught with danger, wonder, and the relentless pursuit of becoming more than what the world has destined her to be. It's a tale of one girl's fight against the odds, where every enhancement, every decision, and every step is a move in the grand game of survival.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 1
I heaved a big sigh, feeling a little bit of that cold sweat trickling down my back as the white-yellow natural light strips above me flickered to life. It was a sight, alright. The lights, they didn't just turn on; they danced in a strange spiral pattern, stretching far into the distance, a sight that was both beautiful and eerie at the same time. It made me pause for a second, my heart fluttering a little with a mix of awe and fear. I was alone in this big, winding space, the only soul for who knows how far. It's funny how you become so aware of your loneliness at times like these.
"Wrong way again, Saria," I mumbled to myself, a bit of annoyance prickling at me. It wasn't the first time that day I'd made a wrong turn or a hasty decision. And the way things were going, I was starting to fear it might be one of my last. I couldn't help but scold myself a bit. After all the scrapes I'd gotten into, you'd think I'd have learned by now.
But there was no time to dwell on my regret or admire the light show above me. The lighting grid strip pattern was unfurling like a carpet of stars, giving me just enough illumination to venture into what was once pitch-black darkness. This new area that was unfolding before me was coming alive with natural light, making the ceiling seem like it was moving, breathing almost. On any other day, I would have stopped dead in my tracks, just to take it all in, to have that moment of wonder and discovery. These little moments, they're precious when you live a life like mine, always on the move, always looking over your shoulder. But today was different. Today, there was no time for wonder.
With a quick, sharp turn of my head, I glanced back, my eyes wide with fear, scanning for any sign of my pursuers. That split second of distraction nearly cost me as my foot caught on something; the smooth, predictable surface of the corridor had given way to a rough, uneven ground covered with dry dirt and pea-sized, red-orange stones. I stumbled, a jolt of panic shooting through me as I fought to stay upright.
My heart was hammering in my chest, each beat loud and clear in my ears. But all those hours of combat training, they kicked in just when I needed them. In a matter of seconds, I found my footing and was off again, sprinting full tilt, the red-orange stones crunching under my shoes with every desperate step.
At first, the only sound that filled the vast, empty space was the crunch of stones beneath my feet. It was almost comforting, a reminder that I was still moving, still alive. But that comfort was short-lived. From somewhere deep in the labyrinth of corridors behind me, I could hear them - my pursuers. Their howls echoed through the empty space, a chorus of rage and hunger. It sent shivers down my spine.
"Damn it," I whispered, a surge of adrenaline pushing me forward. Those outsiders, those relentless hunters, they were still on my tail, still tracking me through this endless maze. And as I ran, the lights continued to spiral above me, a silent witness to my flight.
As I darted through the maze, each turn and twist unfamiliar and daunting, the reality of my situation was crystal clear: I was far from the safety and familiarity of my own territory. It was like being a fish out of water, darting through these corridors, trying to shake off the persistent outsiders chasing me. I'd been running so long, my breaths coming in ragged gasps, my legs aching with the effort. I'd hoped against hope that I might have lost them, that they might have given up the chase. But deep down, I knew better. This was their turf, their maze, and I was just an intruder trying to find my way out.
The sound that shattered any illusion of escape was unmistakable—a whooping, triumphant howl, the kind that twists your stomach into knots and sends a cold shiver down your spine. It was the sound of hunters closing in on their prey. I could almost picture it, them seeing my outline against the light, a clear target running, trying to escape the inevitable. If only I could just melt into the shadows, become one with the darkness that once enveloped the corridors. But the lights, those accursed lights, seemed determined to spotlight my flight, leaving nowhere to hide.
I cursed under the breath, knowing the harsh truth of the labyrinth. It was a beast of its own, reacting to presence, indifferent to desperation or fear. There was no controlling it, no pleading with it. The hope of slipping into darkness, of vanishing from sight, was a fleeting fantasy. The lights illuminated my path, yes, but they also marked me, made me visible, vulnerable. I knew what awaited me—capture, or worse. The only question was how it would end. Would it be quick, or would they draw it out, make an example out of me? The thought alone was enough to make me shudder.
But I wasn't about to give up, not without a fight. With my options dwindling and my back against the wall, I spun around, defiance coursing through me. If this was to be my end, I'd face it on my feet, fighting. I slipped into a stance that had become second nature, every muscle tensed and ready. Ahead, the corridor was alive with the sounds of the approaching pack, their weapons swinging, their cries filled with bloodlust. I could see them now, a motley crew dressed in scavenged rags, each piece a trophy or a trade, a patchwork of violence and survival.
I might not have been making any fashion statements with my simple unit tunic, but compared to their chaotic attire, I might as well have been on parade. In the enclaves, we had access to fabricators, to libraries of design items that made life a little more bearable, a touch of civilization in a world gone mad. But here, in the wilds of the maze, the law of the jungle prevailed. I knew they'd be on me like wild animals, tearing at what I had, what I was, until nothing remained.
Yet, as they charged down the corridor, something in me hardened. I'd meet them at the entrance of the cavern, use the narrow space to my advantage. Maybe, just maybe, I could hold them off, take a few with me. It was a slim chance, a desperate last stand, but it was all I had. And who knows? Maybe the fierceness of my resolve, the readiness to fight to the bitter end, would give them pause, make them reconsider.
"Who am I kidding?" I muttered to myself, a wry smile touching my lips despite the dread filling me. This wa s it, the moment of truth. And I was ready to face it, come what may.
There I was, feet firmly planted in the grit, pushing myself into a desperate sprint towards the pack that had been relentlessly pursuing me. My light blond ponytail whipped in the air, a stark contrast to the grim situation at hand. I could feel every muscle in my body tense as I charged forward, a last-ditch attempt to intimidate the pack that had been hounding me through the labyrinth of corridors. I wasn't the largest or the most formidable looking; my build was more graceful and nimble, a result of years spent dancing. That dancing had shaped me, given me an athleticism that I was relying on now, even if it was more suited to the dance floor than to combat.
As I ran, a thought flashed through my mind about my hair, still tied up in its usual style. It was silly, really, to think about such things at a time like this, but I couldn't help it. There was a ceremony coming up, a significant one for my cohort and me. It was our transition from children to adults, a milestone in the enclave. I had been looking forward to it, to finally responding to some of the admirers my dancing had attracted, to stepping into adulthood with all its rights and responsibilities.
But as the reality of my situation set in, those thoughts were quickly dashed. Instead of preparing for the ceremony, here I was, running headlong into danger, my fate uncertain. The tradition would have had me unbind my hair, let it flow freely as a symbol of my coming of age. It was a beautiful tradition, one that I had been looking forward to being a part of. But now, that future seemed like a distant dream.
In my hands were two knives, not ordinary ones, but specially adapted by Cray, the apprentice blacksmith from the enclave. He had crafted them as a gift for my right-of-passage, a token of his affection and admiration. They were a testament to his skill and a symbol of our friendship, maybe even something more. But now, those knives were all that stood between me and the pack closing in on me.
I felt a pang of regret and anger, thinking about Cray and the gift I had intended for him. That's what had driven me outside the enclave in the first place, against all rules and better judgment. I had been scavenging, looking for something unique, something that would make his eyes light up. He was always so fascinated by artifacts and relics, anything that he could craft into something new and wonderful. I wanted to find him something truly special, something not made by the fabricator units, something that would stand out.
So, with that goal in mind, I had ventured out, searching for something exotic, something that would make the perfect gift. Little did I know that this quest would lead me into such peril, chasing after rare treasures in the labyrinth, only to end up being chased myself. But there was no time for regrets now. There was only the path ahead, the encroaching danger, and the slim hope that maybe, just maybe, I could turn the tide in this desperate fight. With my heart pounding and my resolve firming with every step, I prepared to meet the pack head-on, knives at the ready.
The enclave was a marvel of survival, a community that thrived in the midst of chaos because of the fabrication units. They were like the heart of our world, pumping out the necessities and luxuries that made life bearable, even comfortable at times. Cray, with his knack for metalwork and insatiable curiosity, was always tinkering with whatever materials he could get his hands on. He could take the ordinary output of the fabrication units and turn it into something extraordinary. That's what made him different, what made him stand out. And that's why I was out there, beyond the safe perimeter of the enclave, with a plastic-leather pouch swinging at my side. It contained a piece of strange, golden metallic material, something I hoped would catch Cray's eye and fuel his next creation.
The ranging group I was part of would never have approved of my little detour. They were cautious, sticking to the known paths and avoiding any places marked by the eerie symbols and warnings that littered the labyrinth. But those so-called cursed rooms were a siren call to me. They promised the chance of finding something unique, something valuable, something that could spark that look of wonder in Cray's eyes. So, when I found one of these rooms, hidden away from my usual routes, I didn't hesitate. The warning signs meant nothing to me; they were just relics of a superstitious past, not something that a rational person like myself would worry about.
The room was unlike anything I'd seen before, domed and brightly lit, with equipment that hinted at a purpose lost to time. In the center was a black table, surrounded by machinery that seemed both intimidating and fascinating. My eyes were immediately drawn to a delicate needle pointing downwards, seemingly fragile enough that I could take it for Cray. But as I tried to chop it off, nothing happened. Frustration mounting, I ended up banging on the machinery with my knife handle in anger, accidentally revealing a hidden compartment.
With a grin of triumph, I pried open the compartment to find the golden metallic material floating in a blue light field. It twisted and turned, defying my expectations of what metal should look like. Was it liquid or solid? It was hard to tell until I touched it. The metal was solid, but as soon as my skin made contact, it burned me, not enough to injure but enough to hurry my actions. I quickly stashed it in my pouch, eager to get away from the cursed room and back to the safety of the enclave.
Now, as I charged towards the pack, the pouch felt oddly warm against my skin, a constant reminder of the unknown properties of what I had found. It was hidden under my tunic, out of sight but never out of mind. The warmth was unnerving, making me wonder what I had actually taken from that room. Why did it burn me without leaving a mark? What was it used for? The questions swirled in my mind, adding to the weight of the situation. But there was no time to ponder now; I had to focus on the immediate threat, the pack that was baying for my blood.
As I charged towards the front row of the mob, the reality of my situation hit me full force. I was about to engage in a fight that could very well be my last. The stench of the leading man, with his unkempt, mangy hair, filled my nostrils. It was a petty thought, but I wondered if this foul smell would be the last thing I'd ever experience. With determination and a surge of adrenaline, I plunged my knife into his stomach. The blade met slight resistance, slicing through his scruffy clothes and whatever makeshift armor he had thought would protect him. His face, once twisted with glee, now mirrored my own horror as the reality of the serrated blade tearing through his flesh became undeniable. I twisted the knife, maximizing the damage, then quickly withdrew, ready to face the next attacker.
A woman about my size lunged at me with a club raised high. My dancer's reflexes kicked in, and I sidestepped smoothly, ducking as the club whistled over my head. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the first man collapse, clutching his eviscerated stomach as blood sprayed in a grotesque fountain. As he fell, more of the unkempt, vicious attackers stepped forward. Without hesitation, I lashed out at the woman, my other knife cutting a diagonal line across her face. It wasn't a fatal blow, but it sent her reeling back, momentarily out of the fight.
But then, a sharp, excruciating pain erupted in my solar plexus. A man wielding a club studded with nails had managed to land a hit, and I could see my blood staining the cruel spikes. There was no time to process the pain as another blow landed squarely on my chest, right where the pouch hung. The world narrowed down to a point of intense, all-consuming pain. I crumpled to the ground, each breath an agony, the air feeling thick and heavy like a humid greenhouse.
Curled up on the ground, my body's survival instincts took over, even as my mind reeled from the attack. I was dimly aware of the warm blood flowing from my wounds and the strange, burning sensation in my hands. I couldn't understand why they felt as if they were aflame. Around me, the kicks and jeers of the pack continued, each one a brutal reminder of their intent to finish me off. I could hear them laying claim to my possessions, their voices filled with cruel excitement.
Then, something extraordinary happened. The burning in my hands ignited into a ferocious, all-consuming fire that seemed to spread throughout my entire body. It was a searing, unbearable pain, eclipsing even the physical assault from the pack. I felt as if my veins were filled with burning, acidic lava, the heat radiating outwards in an unstoppable wave. Panic set in, my mind overwhelmed with the desire to escape the agony, to slip into darkness and find some respite from the torture.
