Chapter 27: Welcome to the Fight (Patreon)

[A/N]: If you didn't read Chapter 26 yet, don't miss that. It went out a little earlier today.

Hope you guys enjoy, been excited to reveal these Awakening chapters for a while now!

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The avatar nodded and stood up, approaching where he stood at the fireplace. It indicated the bed with a wave and Terry reluctantly sat on the edge. With its other hand, it pointed toward the poster of his grandfather, Emperor Necroton. The poster lit up, a corona of light surrounding it like an indicator.

“Your first choice. Follow in the Emperor’s footsteps, claiming power and conquest. If you choose this option, you will eventually eclipse his strength, forcing him to step down or die as you ascend to Emperor. Prince James will resent you and his father, but will never reach the S-rank or be able to challenge you. I can see no more than that.”

Terry gaped at the lit up poster, then at the Whipvine avatar.

“How can you know that!” he exclaimed. “Can you…see the future?”

It turned back, its expression blank. “Sometimes, but this, I can extrapolate. The possibility of death or failure is always present, but I am describing the highest probability outcome.” It turned back to the wall of posters. “If I may continue, I will answer what questions I can after the paths are presented.”

Terry settled back, his heart thumping. “Okay,” he replied reluctantly, but so many questions were clawing at his thoughts.

What about mom? And eclipsing my grandfather’s strength? Forcing him to abdicate? It sounded preposterous. And my father resenting me…well, too late.

The thought hurt, but he turned his attention back to the avatar as it highlighted a second poster. He gasped as he realized it was his mom’s.

That one! he almost shouted. I pick that one!

“Your second path,” the avatar continued, acting oblivious to his obvious excitement, “is your mother’s path. You will become both powerful and well regarded among your peers. Strength and Presence, hand in hand. You will leave your home behind and the Emperor’s reign will continue on its current trajectory. War and famine will consume Wichita and the region, but not by your hand. The world will move on and no one will blame you for the region’s decline…except yourself. I see some regret, but you are able to counterbalance it by achieving much with your power and fame.”

What the…is it trying to guilt me into making the first selection? What other reason could it have for saying it like that?

It moved on, the poster of his mother losing its luster as a third poster was highlighted. He double taked as he looked at the poster that he could have sworn wasn’t there a second earlier.

It showed him, but not him. It was Terry, but as an adult—mid-twenties, if he had to guess. He stood on a field of white roses, sky dark and the city of Wichita shadowed in the background. Older Terry’s expression looked haunted, wounds covering the exposed skin on his arms and neck, blood seeping through his clothes. But despite that, there was a presence seeping from the poster, a dignity and strength. A sense of purpose that was physically palpable. The poster of his grandfather and mother felt flat in comparison.

“This is the Resonance, Terry. The choice that most conforms to my conceptualization of you. This is yourpath—or, as well as I can determine it. But just because it’s yours, does not mean you must select it.”

“Nothing you say makes any sense,” Terry finally said, power and presence from the poster of him filling him with an urge to speak. “My mother’s path involves me abandoning Wichita in the pursuit of power? Fame? That wasn’t who she was. And now you’re showing me an image of myself and saying this is my path, but it’s fine if I don’t pick it for reasons you probably won’t explain?” He stood up, pacing around the bed as his mind stormed. “I don’t care about power! I don’t care about ruling Wichita!” He whirled on the avatar. “I just want to know what happened to my mother!”

The Whipvine simulacrum stared back at him impassively in stark contrast to the real Whipvine’s usual expression. The alienness of it made Terry want to scream. You’re not comforting me, fake Whipvine! You’re just freaking me out!

“That’s not all you want, is it Terry? If that were the case, I wouldn’t be showing you this path. I heard your plea when I began your Awakening. You want power, asked for it—”

“To do good! To fight evil supers like War Crimes! Not to overthrow my grandfather! And not at the expense of finding out what happened to my mother!”

“Yes, Terry, I understand. And rest assured, I will help you uncover the truth of your mother no matter which of the three paths you take,” the avatar reminded him. He felt some of his annoyance begin to settle. “But I make no promises—you must discover some things on your own. What I will tell you, is this: your Resonance is fraught with danger and clouds my extrapolations more so than the other two paths. However, I am certain you will accomplish your goals with this choice.”

Terry scoffed, waving toward the image of him bloodied and ragged. “I don’t know. Kinda looks like I’m getting my ass kicked. You didn’t make it look very appealing.”

“I didn’t make it look appealing or unappealing—it just is. What makes me certain is what I’ve seen. If you choose this path, it will be the most difficult, but will also result in what you perceive as the most just, accomplishing the most good. We call it the Resonance because it is the path of self-actualization. The alignment of your perspective, powers, and my own goals.”

Terry shook his head, fire burning in his gut. “And there it is. Your goals, huh? And what, exactly, are those?” The avatar didn’t answer, its expression blank. “This is such bullshit, you know that, right? How can you even know what I want? Is this you seeing the future, or backing me into a corner? What if I make the selfish choice and choose power? Does that bring me out of alignment, hm? My Resonance? My self-actualization? That’s so freakin’ manipulative, it’s ridiculous.” He pointed at the avatar, his voice laced with venom. “Maybe you’re not the best judge of what’s right or wrong for me, did you think of that? Maybe the best path is me telling you to go screw yourself.”

The avatar was stoic before his assault, Whipvine’s face a mask of patience.

“That’s certainly an option,” it replied.

“And then I’ll never know what happened to mom? Yeah, great option there.” He whirled away, moving to the window which looked out on a perfect simulation of the Wichitan night before the Emperor’s working. He missed this view so much. Missed walking along the Arkansas river with his mom. Missed living a simple life with no supers trying to kill or kidnap him. Missed a world that made sense.

That fourth choice loomed before him and he seriously considered it.

So what if I failed my Awakening? The Emperor would be furious, my father probably as well. Wonder what he would think if he knew one of my choices ended up with me his biggest rival.

Life could return to what it had always been. I’d be just a boy, maybe not a prince anymore, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

But he’d never know what happened to mom…no, that wasn’t what stopped him, though that longing ached inside him. The truth hit him in that moment, large and unavoidable.

I’d never have power—power to help others, power to help myself. I’d be weak and impotent like I’ve always been.

He thought back to the System’s words: the Resonance is your path…

Was that bullshit? But why would it say that? Was it trying to turn me away from my family’s paths, whatever the hell that meant?

He turned back to the avatar, his lips turned down in a frown.

“Why did you say my Resonance is the most just? What aren’t you saying about this path? Does just mean good or are we still pretending good and evil don’t exist?”

The avatar shrugged. “I don’t lie to my Awakened, Terry. The subjectivity we discussed earlier dictate that I present your paths within your own lens of understanding. There is a risk to being too specific, but I will say this about your Resonance: you will help heal a region that would otherwise fall into chaos.”

It waved toward the poster, drawing his eye back to the older version of himself.

“You become powerful, but not for glory or recognition. You will work from behind the scenes, bringing light and hope to others without asking for anything in return.” It turned back to him, an intensity in the eyes that Terry hadn’t spotted before. “Your Resonance is good and even a being as distant as I can agree on that.” There was a twinkle in Whipvine’s eye at those words. “I see the Class, the Skills, the Quests to give you that will lead you toward your Resonance.” It shrugged, indicating the other two posters with a wave. “But if you choose the recognition of ruling—” The poster of Necroton lit up. “—or you choose power and fame—” The poster of his mother lit up. “—I will think no less of you and you may yet accomplish much that you and I would both agree is good. My aim is to bring your choice in alignment with both my goals and your own. This, I can accomplish regardless of what path you select.”

He sighed, rubbing at his eyes as he tried to put his thoughts into order.

“What Class would I be?” he asked, indicating the three posters. “Can I know that, at least?”

“Summoner, to follow the Emperor’s path. Visionary, your mother’s.” That didn’t entirely surprise him—Visionary was adjacent to both Hypnotist and Distorter, his mother’s original and post-Midmark Classes. “And your own Resonance, I see Alterant as the best fit.”

That did surprise him.

“Alterant? What?” Alterant was similar to Catalyst in utility, but was adjacent to Artificer and Amplifier. It wasn’t completely out of left field, as he could possibly transition to Distorter after his Midmark like his mom. But Alterant wasn’t known as one of the powerful Classes. If anything, it generally was middling, on par with Catalyst and Artificer, but less useful than Amplifier or Distorter. Certainly nowhere near as strong as Duelist, Summoner, or Visionary, no matter what Skills he started with.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Alterant is kind of weak for me to be this supposed force of good.”

“Every Awakened starts out weak. But yes, I am sure,” the avatar replied. “This is your Resonance.”

You keep saying that…

“Can you tell me what Skills I’ll get? What Quests?”

“No.”

He thought about pressing the issue, but the System didn’t strike him as one to negotiate.

“Visionary is really strong,” he muttered. “I could pick that, but stay in Wichita and—” The avatar shook its head. “What? Why are you shaking your head.”

“It’s not about the Class, but the choice you make. If you choose to follow your mother’s path, I will craft my Quests such that you do not remain in Wichita. The Class isn’t the choice, but the path.”

Terry sighed in defeat. “So you’re not saying I’ll become an asshole by picking Visionary or Summoner. You’re saying that you’ll guide me toward becoming an asshole if I pick those Classes.”

“The Quests I give you will change, but as I’ve said, I’ve extrapolated those futures—”

“Extrapolated that I’ll become an asshole, got it.” He scoffed, glancing out the window to look out over Wichita one more time. “Fine. You backed me into a corner, but fine.” He looked back, his expression tight. “I make the choice that allows me to do the most good. I want hope to live in Wichita again. I want to help as many people as I can, even if they never know it was me.” He stepped toward the avatar. “I think you’re wrong about so many things. I think you’re an alien thing that doesn’t understand humans half as well as you think. But that doesn’t matter. Give me the means to help people. Guide me toward the truth of what happened to my mom. I pick the Resonance.”

Now, the avatar smiled and a shock traced up Terry’s body.

“Well picked. Talk soon, Terry.”

“Wait—”

He was sucked out of his bedroom, his vision warping inward until it was pitch black once more. A rush of air sounded at his side and he turned his head to gasp in the oxygen gushing from the tube beside him.

But the sweet feeling of crisp, fresh air only lasted a moment. In his eyes, loomed a series of words. Words that filled him with both fear and hope.

Welcome to the fight, Awakened. System information can be accessed via mental or verbal command.

Class Received: Alterant (F)

Subtype: Genetic-Metaphysical

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New Skill: Metaphysical Analysis (F)

Use aura to analyze and catalog metaphysical components

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New Skill: Genetic Analysis (F)

Use aura to analyze and catalog genetic data related to metaphysical components

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New Skill: Genetic-Metaphysical Affixation (F)

Alter genetic and metaphysical components to emulate and affix a previously cataloged power

Free Affixation Slots: 1 (F)

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Quest Given: [Feed Wichita]

Grow enough food to supplement Topeka’s inflows.

Deadline: 276 days remaining until famine riots

Reward: Variable

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Quest Given: [Assimilate Powers]

Catalog and assimilate an E-grade or higher Skill

Reward: E-rank

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Quest Given: [The White Rose]

Retrieve and decode all extant White Roses.

Retrieved: [1 of 4]

Decoded: [0 of 4]

Reward: Variable

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Attribute Ranks calculating…

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Metaphysical component detected…

Metaphysical analysis automatically commenced…

ERROR—

Metaphysical component exceeds F-rank. User input required…

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A stream of information filled his mind, bizarre and incomprehensible. Without even understanding how or why, he knew that his new Metaphysical Analysis Skill was responsible for those last messages. More than that, he knew exactly what metaphysical component the new Skill was attempting to analyze.

His aura had warped of its own accord, encompassing the aura of the rose still clutched tight between his fingers. The Skill shifted his aura automatically, pushing it out until it had blanketed the rose like a thin film. He could feel it trying to shift the rose’s aura, seep into the leverage points as it attempted to decipher the power-based components. But that last message was clear enough; the Skill was F-rank while the rose was created by his A-ranked mother. Even if she had created it earlier in the rankings, it was clearly after the F-rank.

A mental prompting was flickering in his mind, inviting him to regard the Skill as it waited for him to guide the analyzing process. Without realizing how, he knew that he could abort the Skill, let it go or redirect it toward a new metaphysical target. He released it now, turning his attention to the other Skills he had acquired.

With a thought, he activated the Genetic Analysis Skill and felt his aura shift of its own accord. But instead of wrapping around the rose like Metaphysical Analysis had, he instead felt a sort of mental block. The Skill released, his aura retreating as a new message appeared in his vision.

Analysis blocked by metaphysical cipher. Continue Metaphysical Analysis?

He released the Skill with a frown. If I’m understanding this right, I need to break or decode the metaphysical cipher—the rose’s aura, I think—before I can begin analyzing the genetic data. But what would that accomplish?

Whatever the case, the Quest he had received was clear: there was something to decode within the roses. The memories his mother had locked away seemed the most likely candidate.

He found his mind drawn away from that mystery, the very first Quest he received looming large in his vision.

Feed Wichita…now that, I wasn’t expecting.

But what was even more concerning was the deadline below. 276 days until famine riots. This must have been what the System was referring to when they said I would be doing good; feeding Wichita. The question was: how?

What could I do that my father or the Emperor couldn’t? I couldn’t tell the Emperor about the impending famine riots because of Rule One.

The frustration of all the Rules loomed in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t help but feel a sense of giddiness, too.

I’m a super now!

He regarded his new Skills one more time, fixating specifically on the Affixation one. If he was understanding the description correctly, he’d be able to replicate powers that he successfully analyzed! He had never even considered the possibility. That wasn’t something Alterant was known for. But the possible powersets, even within the same Class, were vast and poorly categorized for non-Awakened.

Which he wasn’t anymore. He was Awakened! He was a super!

What’s the first power I’m going to catalog? Judging from the prompt I just received, I should be able to catalog powers even above the F-grade. But will I be able to use them?

The first thing his mind snapped to was the rose still clutched blindly in his fingers. It had his mother’s imprint! Could he both decode the contents of the rose and learn to emulate her abilities?

That single possibility filled him with such hope and longing that he didn’t dwell on the bleak nature of his Feed Wichita Quest. He had time to unpack that and draft up a plan of approach.

He turned his Metaphysical Analysis Skill back on with a thought and accepted the prompting to provide his input to the Skill. Immediately, he discovered that this wasn’t a simple task by any means. The imprint of his mother’s aura was both vast and complicated, like the folds of an origami but with a metaphysical weight that he had to strain to unpack.

Sounds outside the pitch-black coffin drew his attention away, bringing him back to the terrifying realization that he had been suffocated to trigger his Awakening. More than that, he would now have to face his father and grandfather knowing what he knew.

How was your Awakening, grandson?

Oh…good. The System offered me the opportunity to overthrow you and take your throne…

He just hoped this wouldn’t be too awkward. At least he could fall back on Rule Five as explanation for not going into detail. For the first time, he appreciated the merit of these ridiculous Rules.

The thud of boots hitting the coffin’s wooden lid drew him back, the harsh light of the chamber filtering in through the seams. A moment later, the lid was hauled back, spilling dirt into his face and eyes. He held up a hand to shield his face, then suddenly remembered the rose he had been clutching so tightly. He quickly tucked it into his jacket, the thorns tearing at his skin.

Standing above him was his father, his eyes searching, an obvious question on his lips. His eyes tracked down to Terry’s feet, noting the bone blade he had discarded as soon as the lid had been shut. They flicked back, and Terry wondered if his father would scold him for his obvious defiance.

But then Terry’s eyes adjusted to the light and he saw the System reticule at the same time as he saw the smile touch his father’s lips.

An corona encased his father, information appearing next to him like a nameplate in a sim.

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Awakened recognized. Filling in data from previous interactions…

Information categorized…

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Name: James Fairway

Class: Summoner

Overall Rank: A (Unconfirmed)

Individual Attribute Ranks: No Data

Combat Capabilities: Compiling…

Relevant Data: Compiling…

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Whatever he had expected, it hadn’t been that. Having a nameplate hovering over his father with his Class, Rank, and all that was fascinating and distracting. He wondered what his father saw hovering over him.

But more than that, he was taken aback by that pure look of joy on his father’s face. It was rare, incongruous with his expectations. It looked almost like…pride.

“Congratulations, Terry. Welcome to the fight.”