Lisa received a worried call from her parents after a few hours of welcoming new arrivals. Not only was it awkward to leave The Anima's main chamber, where she was working, but she really didn't want to have a conversation with her parents right now. In fact, she wished she could just put her parents on pause until she was ready to deal with her human life. Preferably after she and Bath fully enacted the big WD.

"Honey, are you okay?"

She frowned, unsure of what they were talking about. Moreover, she needed to return to her post welcoming the newcomers ASAP. "What's wrong?"

"Oh good. We were just worried about what's been going on at Alens."

Lisa chewed her lip, trying to think of anything at Alens that might get her parents worried. "Honestly, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Her mother's voice now sounded somewhat frantic. "How could you not know?"

Lisa cocked her head. "I've been in class and doing work alone. Has something happened?" She wished her mom would stop beating things around the bush.

"You'll see soon enough."

"Mom!"

"Fine! Someone allegedly blew up a bomb."

Lisa's face grew animated. "On campus!? A Bomb?" What the actual hell?

"According to reports. I'm surprised you didn't hear the blast. According to first responders, the wall of some building was completely destroyed by a powerful force, presumably a bomb."

"Damn. Well, I'm fine," Lisa replied, rubbing her jaw. Why would anyone bomb Alens?

---

Dean looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, his face dripping water. He grabbed a paper towel and wiped the wet off, taking a layer of fine dust off with it.

"Fuck."

Dean hadn't actually meant to punch the wall with his full strength.

He thought of himself as a victim of circumstance. A bunch of guys cornered him against the building, insulting him, backing him into the wall; had the harassment stopped at verbal torment, he would've just dealt and gone on with his life.

He was more than used to verbal abuse. 'Try growing up black in Chicago.'

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, looking at Jackson's girl?"

"I think you have the wrong guy," Dean replied, his hands up in the universal sign of surrender. He didn't want these people to think he was being aggressive.

"No, you're Dean, the half-assed dipshit on the basketball team." The guys accosting Dean were all members of the lacrosse team. He had no idea who Jackson was or what this group wanted with him. Was it because of the frat party a few days back? He'd danced with a few girls, but just for fun, with the music. There'd even been space for Jesus between them; no grinding. He hadn't been feeling up for it.

"Seriously, I don't think I'm the guy you want," Dean repeated, feeling boundless frustration. He started to walk sideways along the wall, hoping to simply disengage from the potential conflict.

But in the end, things had gotten physical as one of the guys tried to punch him. Acting on enhanced reflexes, Dean had slipped and circled around the assailant. In an instant, he was poised to punch the back of the guy's head.

He realized at the last possible second what he was doing, then intentionally missed, slamming his fist into the wall instead, leading to the current debacle at hand. Thankfully, blow-out debris from smashing the wall had knocked all the assailants unconscious, so responders thought that the explosion was due to a bomb.

Dean didn't know what he'd do if the lacrosse guys woke up...and remembered. He shuddered involuntarily, both at his precarious future and what he almost did: he almost killed that kid. Sure, the guy had been an obnoxious prick, but that didn't mean he deserved to die.

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

At the same time, Dean marveled at his swiftness, his instincts. He was most familiar with the strength and endurance Bath had given him since that was what he used to run long distances and throw heavy objects. Before this incident, he hadn't been in any situations requiring him to react to anything. He'd never learned how to fight; back in Chicago, the one time he'd been assaulted on the street ended up with him in the hospital with a broken wrist. But now, without even thinking about it, he'd expertly dodged and prepared to counter an incoming attack with efficient, deadly force. He figured that this, too, was some kind of boon from Bath.

'"Just like steroids" my ass,' Dean thought, his face outwardly impassive as his mind went in circles. He really, really, really couldn't lose this basketball scholarship. But now, he was starting to wonder if it was even safe for him to play. What if a defender got up in his face? Would he instinctively whip around him at an inhuman speed and attack?

In a sense, Dean felt like Bath had stolen away a level of his own autonomy. He felt out of control of his own body, unable to adequately ensure that he wouldn't accidentally hurt someone. What if he wanted to get with someone? Engage in romance? Kiss, have sex?

Dean's thoughts continued to devolve into a frenzied, dark spiral of uncertainty and self-loathing. He felt...lost. Who could he talk to about any of this?

He sighed, looked down at his phone, and called the only number he could.

---

"Dean," Bath said as he answered the phone. "Yes?"

"Look, I kind of...messed up," he said tentatively. "I can't control all the boon you gave me," Dean admitted. "I, um, accidentally punched a building and destroyed its entire eastern wall. On campus. In front of witnesses who were all knocked out but may remember what happened."

He hoped that Bath would think of some way to conduct damage control. Already, just by explaining what happened out loud, Dean was feeling better.

"What are you worried about?" Bath asked, sounding genuinely confused over the line. "You're the Knight. Believe me, you alone are strong enough to face off against a small army and win. Even if there are witnessed, you can easily coerce them into silence." Bath thought that Dean's choice of title was extremely fitting considering his abilities.

Dean shook his head. "That isn't my point. I'm worried about my inability to control all of these boons, that I might accidentally blow up someone's head instead of a building."

Bath just sighed to himself. The hierarchy existed to avoid just this kind of scenario. People needed to learn how to use their boons before, well, using them.

"You just need time to get used to your enhancements," Bath said. "If you're really worried, you should just come back to Basalith and work on training each of your boons." Now that Bath thought about it, perhaps he went overboard with all the boons he gave to Dean. Dean was the guinea pig, and Bath thought that as a reward he would just let Dean keep all his enhancements...but maybe, he should've taken some away, or dulled them to be like Lisa's.

Then again, if Dean could simply learn to control all his boons, there wouldn't be a problem. Bath was already quite impressed at Dean's ability to navigate life normally. Moreover, after giving the constitution boon to COTD members, he was also impressed by Dean's pain tolerance and speed of accepting enhancements. Dean was shaping up into an asset surpassing his initial expectations.

"Come back to Basalith? And drop out of school?"

A small smile crept up on Bath's face. "Dean. Why are you in school?"

"Because--" Dean faltered. "You're saying that I can get everything I'd normally get in school, and more, if I just work full-time for Basalith?"

Bath didn't particularly like that Dean considered being Basalith's Knight "work," but let it go. "What do you want, Dean?"

"I want my family to be financially secure."

"Think higher," Bath snarled back.

Dean froze, startled by the sudden aggression. He collected his thought in the time it took for 5 drops of water to stream from his hair down to his chin and then drip into the sink.

"Like what? Do I want to be rich? Do I want to be, what, famous? Some kind of...legend like Steve Jobs or Mark Zuckerberg?"

"Think higher." Bath's voice lacked its former momentary ferocity and now sounded icy, detached. Dean wasn't sure which tone unnerved him more; both positively dripped with judgment, as though Bath were looking down on him with disdain. For what? "Not thinking high enough?"

"What the fuck do you mean 'think higher?'" Dean was frustrated by this entire conversation. He'd called Bath because he was the only one he could talk to about this whole mess, not because he particularly trusted Bath to make him feel better. Dean didn't know what he expected...perhaps sympathy? A few sentences telling him not to worry?

Bath sighed into the phone. "When you have an answer to the question, tell me. Until then, I think it would be in your best interest to leave school and bring your family with you." In fact, it would be infinitely more in their best interests to join COTD now rather than later.

Dean felt somewhat reassured by this response--his family would be cared for--but it didn't lessen his anger toward Bath himself. The self-proclaimed "god" had promised Dean that he'd be able to keep his former life playing basketball. He didn't want a lot out of life, just enough success to be able to provide for his family, get them into a better neighborhood; find a girl he liked, get married, have kids. He thought of himself as pragmatic, which was the only reason why he'd even considered Bath's offer for steroid-like "enhancements" in the first place: his innate athletic talent wasn't enough to go far in basketball.

And now, he was here, facing down himself in the mirror, his future in tumult. Then again, the future of the world was in tumult if COTD continued to do "miracles" at its current pace.

"What do you want, Bath?" Dean asked, turning the question around.

He heard a dark chuckle. "What do gods want, other than to expand their influence? I want to rule the universe, Dean." Before hanging up, Bath spoke a final time, his voice once again assuming its icy quality, whisper-like despite its intensity.

"Think higher."