Time.
When one really focuses on the amount of energy and effort that goes into something, they usually tend to suddenly realize the finite amount left to them. Some projects are abandoned before they are ever started because to see its completion would cost everything; for a pay off that’s not guaranteed.
Then there exists the rare few with far more time to spare. Humans and animals that have found ways to extend themselves beyond their normal means. Be it by a curse, self-experimentation, or managing to master a power that was not meant for mortals…a rare few individuals across the land had this extra time.
Then there was Tama. A man inflicted with too much time. Cursed by the Universe, a hand on power that no one should touch, and modified to be the perfect human specimen, at least to the limits of which his species could push themselves. By all context the scientist had long ago stepped away from the realm of mortals and had become something different all together. If he could find a way to manipulate the cursed laid on him to his advantage, those who had limited hours of life would no doubt revere him as a god; something he’d imagined would be nice. Yet ever like the Universe was, it continued to grind her heel deep into his spine, and stole away any opportunity he had to rise.
Tama was somewhere in his twenties at the moment. Not fully grown, standing at six feet and seven inches with silver hair that was coiled into a giant bun to keep it off his neck. His trademark lab coat was hanging off the back of a chair, his shirt unbuttoned and pulled out from khaki colored slacks. No shoes adorned his feet, and wouldn’t need to in the heat, as a drop of sweat splashed against the film of it already coating his whole body.
It was hot. Despite being really far underground where it was cooler, the machines he had built for cloning were taking up a lot of energy. So much so now, he was starting to legit fear Sand Worms noticing him.
The large Uzumoreru dungeons, all the remained of the once noble underground castle, held his equipment and had become his home while he dealt with the vexing problem of the time skips. Despite having nearly sixteen different chambers to separate the energy sources, the amount he needed to keep them running at a capacity to keep the lifeforms inside from dying was literally killing him.
If it wasn’t for the curse placed upon him by Karma, Tama would have actually died weeks ago. He had managed to develop a device that stole life force and converted it into energy that could power his technology. However, as he had learned the hard way, the amount he needed to actually turn on even one device stole away half of his life. Without realizing this, he had made the mistake of dying while in his oldest state, which almost always rotated him back to the youngest state; the mentally unstable one.
Last time that happened he had lost four weeks of work after going into a paranoid berserk mode, and destroying all of his equipment pertaining to cloning; and a few other things that ‘looked suspicious.’ It took a whole week of starving from a lack of human souls in his diet before he ‘died’, and converted back into his twenties.
Another four weeks since that incident had passed. The machine had already taken half of this form’s life force and the two pods he had - taking far less energy than the previous - were at full capacity. Yet the vital signs of the faceless bodies floating in the blue liquid were vegetative state, and the machines still produced heat that caused the second level of the dungeons to stay at a solid 43c.
Sweat dripped down from his face and splashed drops all over the checklist he was going down which smeared ink across his notes when he went to wipe the offensive water away; ruining them. In a cry of frustration he threw the clipboard at the vat before him, and in an ironic twist due to shinobi training, wedged the edge of the wooden plank into the glass.
“Shit,” the scientist muttered to himself as he reached up to tap the plank. Cracks appeared all across the vat from where the wood was sticking in, and the heat-addled scientist fully realized what was happening, “Oh! Oh, no! No, no, no, no…”
His hands moved all across the glass using what limited control he had over space/time to reverse the cracks, but he had started too late. Tama couldn’t rewind back to before his clipboard had ninja’d its way into the tank’s glass.
“Fu-”
The vat exploded. Large shards of glass removed one arm while the viscous liquid doused itself all across his body, absorbed his sweat, and then chemically became unstable to a point that hit began to melt his flesh. The man didn’t even so much as get to scream before his vocal cords were but human goo.
Ryuu Tama in his mid thirties stood with his arms cross, fully dressed, and staring down at disappointment at his own puddle of corpse. With a dramatic sigh he stomped down to the other vat and killed the power, before jerking down on the latch that would dump the failed project down into the chasm below. Frustrated beyond words the scientist wiped the sweat starting to bead on his forehead down his face and sulked his way back up to the first level of the old dungeons.
Up here was an entire open space, unlike the cells below, and far cooler. Despite heat rising, the man had at least managed to find a way to vent the heat out enough to keep the upper level where he slept and studied comfortable.
Tama had also managed to clear away most of the torture devices and thrown them off the edge of the pillar the dungeon resided on. A few he kept, some out of scientific interest, others out of humor for indulging in wild kinks, if he could ever find the time; which was horribly ironic.
Kicking off his loafers and tossing his lab coat over onto a different chair, the scientist flopped into a recliner. The foot stool shot out from beneath him as he stretched out in some small comfort. His hand reached out and grabbed a glass from a side table that suddenly appeared before him with a bit of whiskey in the bottom. A smile crept to his face as he indulged in the spirit for a moment to relax his genius.
There just had to be something he was missing…was his math off?
When one really focuses on the amount of energy and effort that goes into something, they usually tend to suddenly realize the finite amount left to them. Some projects are abandoned before they are ever started because to see its completion would cost everything; for a pay off that’s not guaranteed.
Then there exists the rare few with far more time to spare. Humans and animals that have found ways to extend themselves beyond their normal means. Be it by a curse, self-experimentation, or managing to master a power that was not meant for mortals…a rare few individuals across the land had this extra time.
Then there was Tama. A man inflicted with too much time. Cursed by the Universe, a hand on power that no one should touch, and modified to be the perfect human specimen, at least to the limits of which his species could push themselves. By all context the scientist had long ago stepped away from the realm of mortals and had become something different all together. If he could find a way to manipulate the cursed laid on him to his advantage, those who had limited hours of life would no doubt revere him as a god; something he’d imagined would be nice. Yet ever like the Universe was, it continued to grind her heel deep into his spine, and stole away any opportunity he had to rise.
Tama was somewhere in his twenties at the moment. Not fully grown, standing at six feet and seven inches with silver hair that was coiled into a giant bun to keep it off his neck. His trademark lab coat was hanging off the back of a chair, his shirt unbuttoned and pulled out from khaki colored slacks. No shoes adorned his feet, and wouldn’t need to in the heat, as a drop of sweat splashed against the film of it already coating his whole body.
It was hot. Despite being really far underground where it was cooler, the machines he had built for cloning were taking up a lot of energy. So much so now, he was starting to legit fear Sand Worms noticing him.
The large Uzumoreru dungeons, all the remained of the once noble underground castle, held his equipment and had become his home while he dealt with the vexing problem of the time skips. Despite having nearly sixteen different chambers to separate the energy sources, the amount he needed to keep them running at a capacity to keep the lifeforms inside from dying was literally killing him.
If it wasn’t for the curse placed upon him by Karma, Tama would have actually died weeks ago. He had managed to develop a device that stole life force and converted it into energy that could power his technology. However, as he had learned the hard way, the amount he needed to actually turn on even one device stole away half of his life. Without realizing this, he had made the mistake of dying while in his oldest state, which almost always rotated him back to the youngest state; the mentally unstable one.
Last time that happened he had lost four weeks of work after going into a paranoid berserk mode, and destroying all of his equipment pertaining to cloning; and a few other things that ‘looked suspicious.’ It took a whole week of starving from a lack of human souls in his diet before he ‘died’, and converted back into his twenties.
Another four weeks since that incident had passed. The machine had already taken half of this form’s life force and the two pods he had - taking far less energy than the previous - were at full capacity. Yet the vital signs of the faceless bodies floating in the blue liquid were vegetative state, and the machines still produced heat that caused the second level of the dungeons to stay at a solid 43c.
Sweat dripped down from his face and splashed drops all over the checklist he was going down which smeared ink across his notes when he went to wipe the offensive water away; ruining them. In a cry of frustration he threw the clipboard at the vat before him, and in an ironic twist due to shinobi training, wedged the edge of the wooden plank into the glass.
“Shit,” the scientist muttered to himself as he reached up to tap the plank. Cracks appeared all across the vat from where the wood was sticking in, and the heat-addled scientist fully realized what was happening, “Oh! Oh, no! No, no, no, no…”
His hands moved all across the glass using what limited control he had over space/time to reverse the cracks, but he had started too late. Tama couldn’t rewind back to before his clipboard had ninja’d its way into the tank’s glass.
“Fu-”
The vat exploded. Large shards of glass removed one arm while the viscous liquid doused itself all across his body, absorbed his sweat, and then chemically became unstable to a point that hit began to melt his flesh. The man didn’t even so much as get to scream before his vocal cords were but human goo.
Ryuu Tama in his mid thirties stood with his arms cross, fully dressed, and staring down at disappointment at his own puddle of corpse. With a dramatic sigh he stomped down to the other vat and killed the power, before jerking down on the latch that would dump the failed project down into the chasm below. Frustrated beyond words the scientist wiped the sweat starting to bead on his forehead down his face and sulked his way back up to the first level of the old dungeons.
Up here was an entire open space, unlike the cells below, and far cooler. Despite heat rising, the man had at least managed to find a way to vent the heat out enough to keep the upper level where he slept and studied comfortable.
Tama had also managed to clear away most of the torture devices and thrown them off the edge of the pillar the dungeon resided on. A few he kept, some out of scientific interest, others out of humor for indulging in wild kinks, if he could ever find the time; which was horribly ironic.
Kicking off his loafers and tossing his lab coat over onto a different chair, the scientist flopped into a recliner. The foot stool shot out from beneath him as he stretched out in some small comfort. His hand reached out and grabbed a glass from a side table that suddenly appeared before him with a bit of whiskey in the bottom. A smile crept to his face as he indulged in the spirit for a moment to relax his genius.
There just had to be something he was missing…was his math off?