Always, they are watching. None can escape their gaze, and nothing can’t dissuade their hunger. It took it all from them, and now, they wish to take back. For now, though, they shall lie waiting in the deepest depths of the darkness, even if it takes an eternity.

* Unknown whisper of the past.

**

Brock awoke with a yawn, a light smile sliding across his face as he savoured the plush embrace of the mattress underneath him. His stats had increased to the point he thought he could sleep on a bed of stone and be somewhat unaffected, but there was still nothing like a soft mattress beneath you. His back felt the best it had after sleeping in a long time.

Faintly, the sweet scent of fresh pancakes flowed out from under the closed door to his room, reminding Brock of simpler days when he and his siblings were younger and would wake up to weekend pancakes for breakfast. The smile on his face only began to widen as he felt that familiar sense of excitement.

Shrugging off his sheets and stretching out his body as far as it would go - which was scarily far with what appeared to be his stat enhanced flexibility - Brock rolled out of bed. Rearming himself with his ‘hidden blade’ and adopting his new clothes – a floral button-up shirt and some old shorts - he took a quick gander in the mirror as he flexed his newly bulked sets of muscles.

The thick layers of grime had given way to a slightly more handsome face than he remembered, his short haircut somewhat uneven from all the fights he had experienced. Although, along with his lean muscle and plethora of scars, it added greatly to his unhinged, man vs nature kind of vibe. While before he had been a relatively average looking guy, all those factors took him up a notch visually.

He would be hard-pressed to call himself good looking, but he certainly wasn’t harsh on the eyes.

Putting his looks and past injuries aside, Brock opened the door and strolled out into the kitchen, finding enough space for the three residents to eat cleared out among the piles of metal scraps and pieces. Harry was already sitting down, chatting merrily with James as he smoothly piled pancakes onto a trio of plates for them to share.

Rubbing his eyes and aware he had slept in somewhat, Brock pulled out the chair beside Harry and plopped down, enjoying the sweet, sweet scent of James’ pancakes. After living off canned beans, and then protein bars and the odd handful of peanuts, the office worker was more than excited to consume a home-cooked meal. Hell, he wouldn’t have even minded if it was his sister’s cooking.

Actually, no. He thought about it. He’d rather Pontiac shit. The woman could turn microwavable cup noodles into sticks of charcoal, and he still didn’t know how it was possible. You just put them in the microwave for two fucking minutes.

“Did you have a good sleep, bro?” James looked over his shoulder and called out, flipping another set of pancakes on the plates.

Brock chuckled, “Yeah, I slept in. A mattress sure beats sand and grass.”

He and Harry shared a knowing glance. It was certainly not pleasant.

James chuckled, “Oh yeah. You hate the outback, don’t you, Brock? I almost forgot.”

He frowned deeply and the two teens shared a laugh at his expense.

The pancakes were delightful and left Brock and Harry groaning in ecstasy afterwards. The last time Brock had seen James, the kid hadn’t known how to cook at all, relying on their mother entirely for that. He thought it was good to see him as independent as he was now. The kid was really growing up. He was proud of him.

Harry had managed to singlehandedly deplete James’ stock of maple syrup on his pancakes, to the point where Brock was certain there was more syrup there than the pancakes themselves. The boy showed no remorse afterwards, however, even with sticky maple clinging stubbornly to his face.

I… could get used to this. No fighting, no death, no fear. No braving the harsh wilderness and wondering if you’ll survive till tomorrow. Just a soft bed, the safety of a roof and delicious pancakes. Brock… wondered if staying in Alice Springs would be so bad. Because he knew the world wasn’t going to get better. Maybe… maybe after I find Jane and mum.

Together, the three chatted, and the table conversation slowly turned from Harry’s unexplainable hatred of New York style pizza to local gossip Brock had missed before finally ending up at the recent upgrade James had received in his Ascendancy. Brock had thought to ask James why he had seemed so worried over the power-up the day before but decided against it.

He hated asking questions he already knew the answer to.

Jordan had kept an iron gripped lordship over Alice Springs through not just power disparity but also by keeping a complete monopoly on who else can become part of the exclusive group of the powerful. It was a method that Brock couldn’t even find the energy to be frustrated at. Gatekeeping power was a tactic as old as civilisation itself.

Initially, James had said to have been afraid that he would be targeted by Jordan for having an Ascendance rarity far higher than that of his own, the former being gold and the latter blue. Though that fear had quelled somewhat with the realisation that his powers had begun to lean in the direction of artificing rather than combat, something he was sure Jordan could be convinced was nonthreatening.

No, what James was most afraid of now was that Jordan would directly target Brock for his stockpile of Shards.

It made perfect sense, Brock guessed. He was a stranger in town, and he suddenly brought enough Shards of Awakening to completely topple the strict hierarchy Jordan had managed to create here. Added to the fact that everyone perceived him as merely level 9, even his own brother who was yet to see his true strength, it spelled for a catastrophic disaster.

What did serve to make Brock angry, was the thought that this ‘Jordan’ would try to take advantage of his perceived weakness. He wasn’t at all someone who believe they deserved their own power, but Brock at least knew that power wasn’t meant to elevate above others. It was meant to lift them up with you.

Going out of your way to target the weak was just a dick move.

And so it had made Brock grin like a child when Harry had told him seriously to ‘go easy’ on the guy when he decided to come knocking. James had given the two glances like they were fucking insane.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

While he felt confident in beating this Jordan guy, he was extremely afraid that his power would scare James. Being with Harry had helped him greatly, but after the month by himself in the jungle, Brock still felt out of touch with both common sense and the norms of human interaction. He felt… like an untamed animal in captivity. He didn’t know how to act.

In other words, he was afraid of going too far and frightening away the only family he could be certain he had left.

Unfortunately, the ‘knock’ came sooner than expected, and their oddly enlightening conversation about stray cats in Boston was cut short. James immediately told the two of them to let him do the talking and together they opened the door and stepped out.

The man who Brock didn’t assume, but knew, was Jordan was standing in the middle of the road, flanked on either side by armed guards. The person who’d knocked on the door was Shane. He gave a brisk wave. After a seething glare from all three of them, the man began to apologise profusely.

“If it isn’t Brock Carter. The man himself has returned home. Good to see you again, buddy.” Jordan spread his arms out wide, the guards deciding to give him a wide berth as he proclaimed to the people present.

Of all the fucking people, it had to be this dickhead? Brock had recalled a name from his past the day before. He’d known a Jordan in high school, but he didn’t actually think the man would be the leader of Alice Springs. Back when they’d had classes together, he could barely count to ten. Cause he’s a fucking idiot.

Currently, after 5 years apart, he appeared to be somewhat amicable despite what he had certainly been told, but Brock supposed that being the bully who had tormented a younger him for his entire upper school life gave the man a surplus of self-confidence.

His eyes were slightly crinkled at the edges by his smile, and Brock knew the man could sense the higher rarity of his Ascendancy, and even more so that of his brother’s. He looked almost the same as Brock had remembered him, standing tall with a cleanly shaven head, two eyes full of mirth and skin a light shade of caramel. A hulking frame of muscles bulged from underneath a torn singlet.

Despite that clear evidence of an immense Strength stat, Brock felt a negligible amount of pressure from the power he could detect from the man. I really hope we end up fighting…

Brock spread his arms just as wide in return. A faux smile was plastered across his face, “Jordan! Nice to see you some place other than in the reflection of a toilet bowl.”

He didn’t miss the imperceptible way the corners of the man’s lips quirked up. He chuckled.

“You’re a funny man, Brock. Always have been. Now, how about you give me those Shards.” Jordan regarded him lightly, a hidden edge of hostility to his tone, “We’re in need of them to help against the beast waves and I’m sure you can help an old friend out.”

Brock couldn’t help but snort in derision at the obvious lie of motive, “I call bullshit, mate.”

His words made the acting leader of Alice Springs develop a frown and his two guards lift their Tutorial granted sword and spear menacingly. Harry chuckled, though both James and Shane looked between them with abject horror, like they were committing a murder before their very eyes. And to them, they were.

Their own.

James waved his hands placatingly and rushed to step forward, pushing in front of Brock who had his arms crossed in an act of defiance, “I… I apologise for my brother, Jordan. He’s just woken up and he’s a bit out of it. He didn’t mean that.”

Jordan gazed at them in silence for a tense few seconds, the foreheads of both James and Shane sweating bullets. Though, abruptly, the man began to chuckle. The noise was low and dangerous, “He did, and he will be giving me those Shards of Awakening.”

His voice was rather neutral, but there was an underlying threat beneath the passivity.

“Brock?” Jordan turned to the man in possession of the vaunted items, looking at him in askance.

Brock gave him the middle finger.

An instant later, an aura tasting vaguely of smoke to Brock’s aura senses began to billow out, encasing everyone present in its smothering embrace. The guards were forced to their knees by the inherent power dormant within, as were both Shane and James, the latter fearfully whispering to his elder brother about giving up the Shards.

Harry was a bit shaky on his feet under the presence of someone more powerful than he was but managed to remain standing. While he did feel the pressure upon his body somewhat, Brock outwardly maintained an unfazed appearance. He suppressed a grin as Jordan’s eyebrows furrowed.

There seemed to be a lot one could tell just from reading one’s aura. Like how Jordan had clearly reached the point of aura projection, or how his Ascendancy gave him the feeling that it focused more towards physical stats than mental ones. Brock wasn’t certain of his stat total, but he was confident he had more than Jordan did.

Otherwise, what was the fucking point of the month he spent alone in that hellhole of a jungle? Despite that confidence in his power, however, he did acknowledge that his high stat total was more so due to his immense mental stats than the physical ones.

While he felt he would be unmatched in a fight of raw might, Brock didn’t doubt for a second that he would emerge victorious. He not only had what he assumed was a far superior weapon - Jordan sporting a simple Tutorial issued war hammer upon his back - but also bucket loads more combat experience.

Plus, he possessed an Augment, something he couldn’t detect within the man’s aura. It was vague, but Brock could definitely detect the traces of his Augment in his own.

“I’ll give you one last chance to hand over the Shards, Brock. I don’t give second chances.”

While he had initially appeared worried by Brock’s direct defiance of his aura, Jordan seemed to have put it down to a heavy investment in mental stats, which wasn’t far off from the truth. From Brock’s experience, auras weren’t physical in nature, but mental. Or perhaps even spiritual.

They never affected the environment, at least from what he’d seen, and only directly affected the beings in its area of influence. So he thought it was a pretty good guess to think of it as something either psychological or mental.

None of that even remotely matter to Brock, however. Sure, he could give away the Shards and avoid a fight in his own hometown, but it wasn’t just about the Shards. Certainly, he didn’t want to pass away his hard-fought spoils to some entitled douchebag, but more than that, this was finally the chance he was presented after all these years to stand up to his childhood bully.

Sure, it was almost guaranteed to end in a blood brawl where they fought for each other’s lives, but it was his chance for payback, nonetheless.

So, with a raised brow, Brock became a repeat offender and flipped the man off with his other hand. Both middle fingers rested in the air, aimed directly toward Jordan, “Hey, Harry? James? You guys might wanna run.”

The aura emitting from Jordan rapidly skyrocketed in strength, becoming a ferocious maelstrom as it readily reacted to the seething rage within him. Brock could see the man’s jaw clench tightly. He didn’t even spare Harry and James a glance as they did their best to scurry off to the side, a shaking Shane in tow.

No, his eyes were dead set on Brock.

With a comical sluggishness, Jordan reached up behind him and clutched his hammer, detaching it from whatever magical phenomenon held it to his back. He hefted it over and onto his shoulder.

A half-hearted stance was adopted by him, and it became clear to Brock that the man wasn’t taking the fight seriously and instead treating it as nothing more than a mere execution. What startled him more was the ease with which the guy approached murder. Is he a fucking psychopath?

Brock wasn’t the first, that much was clear. He wouldn't claim to know the reason behind the man's actions, but he assumed some dark events must have occurred within Jordan's Tutorial for such a drastic change to happen in his basic human morality. Jordan was a total dickwad before, but the man wouldn't have killed anyone.

While he wanted to say that if it came down to it, he’d certainly be able to kill another human being, Brock found himself unable. Even after a month of savagery inside the jungle, he still lacked the conviction to kill another. Maybe he might be ready when the time came in the future, but he knew he’d find no joy in it.

Luckily, Jordan didn’t seem to appear to either, more so doing it out of a perceived ‘necessity’ than anything else. Like a psychopath.

“I gave you a chance, Brock. Don’t say I didn’t.”

Then, without commenting further, he exploded forward.