James could sense the walls Donovan had put up, both emotionally and mentally. He was a man haunted by memories and paralyzed by fear. Clearly, Donovan was torn between the need to share the truth and the fear of consequences.
That was why James tried a different approach. He had long debated with himself about the morality of his new Skills - he had been too excited about the boost in power to think about the consequences of being able to interact with a mind and not just observe it during the rank up, but things had become more clear as he came down from the high - and had come to the conclusion that it was best kept for rare cases.
The fact that he was tapping into his newfound psychic abilities so soon would require further introspection once he was done. Still, for the moment, he contented himself with gently probing the emotional barriers Donovan had erected. His aim was not to invade or overpower, but to coax and reassure, to create an environment where the man felt safe enough to share his burden.
Focusing his mind, he projected a sense of calm and safety toward Donovan, carefully coaxing the man's deep-seated regret and fear into the background. It was a delicate process, balancing the fine line between influence and intrusion. His mana was projected outwards in feelers rather than his usual waves, as he did his best to keep his touch light, not wanting to give away what he was doing.
He tried his best not to be heavy-handed, as he simply wanted to reassure the man and make him let go of his irrational fears rather than force him to do anything.
Slowly, James felt the fear and regret in Donovan begin to ebb. He created a mental space of empathy and understanding, allowing his father’s old squadmate to release some of his fear. It was a delicate process, akin to untangling knots in a fragile thread.
Before his rank up, James knew he would have never been able to use such a precise skill. Compared to what it had become, his mana had been a blunt instrument. Now, it was a scalpel, carefully prying away years of repressed emotions, allowing the man to think freely for once.
Gradually, Donovan's demeanor changed; his rigid posture softened, and the lines of worry on his face eased. Encouraged by the shift, James gently prodded. "You can trust me, Michael. You know I deserve to hear the truth."
With a deep sigh, as if unburdening a heavy load, Donovan finally spoke, naming the Awakeners who had abandoned his and Andrew Summers' team. "Jeremy Hopkins, Theo Knowles, Matthew Blanchard, Cosmo O'Brien, and Maximillian Lee. They are all powerful people, so I hope you can understand why I've been so reluctant. Last I know, they were all members of a big Guild somewhere south. I have worked with them enough times to know that they wouldn't suffer a snitch."
Donovan's words hung heavy in the air, laden with years of suppressed fear and guilt. James listened intently, his mind carefully storing every detail. The names the man provided were more than just a list of criminals; they were the key to understanding a crucial part of his father's past.
I never thought I might be able to get revenge for Dad. His death always seemed hidden in nebulous circumstances… But I might be able to get to the bottom of it with this information.
"I understand your concerns, Michael," James assured him, his voice steady despite the turmoil he felt. "I'll be careful. But I need to know the truth. What happened to my father, and why it happened."
Donovan nodded, his gaze downcast. "I wish I could've been braver, done something back then. But I was scared... still am. Those men are not just average Awakeners; they're influential, with connections that run deep. Be careful, James."
This man is broken. James realized. There is no greater punishment I can give him than what his mind already has done. His emotions are a constant spiral of self-loathing and fear… It's honestly surprising he's still alive.
James spent some more time making sure that the man wouldn't do anything foolish in fear of reprisal after giving up the names, reinforcing emotions of security and tranquillity. It was hard work, especially since he needed to keep his touch feather-light so as to not be exposed, but he had been the one to provoke such fear in the man and felt that this was the least he could do. He tried to get some more details about that day, but the fear returned with a resurgence the moment he did, and James decided he already had enough for the moment.
Soon after, he left, determined to start researching the names he had been given as soon as he got back home.
Stolen story; please report.
Throughout the journey, his mind was alight with what he'd do to the people who had betrayed his father. James didn't consider himself particularly sadistic but couldn't prevent his daydreams from turning sinister.
The ding of the train announcement brought him back to reality, and he shelved his disturbing thoughts to the side for the moment.
First of all, I have to see if it's even possible to get revenge. They might be all dead already, considering how dangerous the job of an Awakener is, though considering how cowardly they behaved, I doubt it. This kind of people is like cockroaches. They never die unless you really stamp them down.
Once he got home, he distractedly waved to his grandparents, who seemed busy with the TV, from which James could vaguely recognize a famous show presenter's voice.
Opening his laptop, James barely remembered to turn on a VPN - just in case he ended up doing anything like what he had daydreamed about and law enforcement came knocking on his door - and started typing the names one by one.
His investigation revealed that of the five Awakeners, two had died under mysterious circumstances, and one was missing, presumed dead. This was unsurprising, considering how long ago the five had been active. Donovan seemed sure they would still be alive and capable of making him pay should he reveal their misdeeds, but had he done some research, he would have realized just how unlikely that was.
Well, it wasn't a rational fear. For a man who felt so calm and collected initially, he fell apart quickly. I know a lot of soldiers who took part in the operations during the Apocalypse have terrible PTSD, but he seems to have managed to build up a relatively calm persona over his wrecked mind. It'd be more interesting if it wasn't so sad.
The remaining two, Jeremy Hopkins and Theo Knowles, were active members of a Guild based in Florida.
Curious, James navigated to the Guild's website. It was a slick, well-designed portal that boasted of the Guild's contributions and missions. The site was filled with images of Awakeners in action and testimonials of their success. It portrayed an image of heroism and dedication, but James was well aware that beneath the glossy surface lay a darker truth.
He didn't have specific information about Florida's guilds beyond the Glades, the most famous organization in the state, which sported several A-rankers and regularly made national news with their reclamation efforts. Still, if they were anything like the guilds in New York, he would bet there was a lot more going on away from the reflectors.
He found profiles of Hopkins and Knowles, complete with their achievements and current roles within the Guild. Their proud faces and accolades painted a picture of respectability and honor.
Their profiles depicted Jeremy Hopkins as a man in his late forties, with a lean build and sharp features that were always set in a stern expression. His red hair was peppered with gray, and his eyes, cold and calculating, seemed to miss nothing. Theo Knowles was slightly younger, with a muscular build and a charismatic smile that belied his true nature. His hair was dark and kept meticulously styled, and his eyes held a hint of arrogance.
According to the website, both men were now primarily working as consultants for lower-rank teams in the Guild, providing strategic guidance and occasional field support. Despite being D-rankers, they rarely participated in dungeon raids, preferring to stay in the background. James speculated that their current roles allowed them to wield influence without exposing themselves to the dangers of active duty. It was a safe, comfortable position for men who had once turned their backs on their comrades rather than face real danger.
James felt a surge of frustration and anger as he read about their seemingly successful lives. The men who had abandoned his father to a tragic fate had built comfortable careers for themselves, hidden behind the veneer of respectability. His fingers tightened around the edge of the desk while his emotions raged like a storm.
There was also a sense of determination, a burning need to confront these men and hold them accountable. James was aware that he was still too weak to directly challenge them, but that only fueled his resolve to grow stronger. He now had a clear goal to work towards, a purpose that went beyond personal growth and vague, distant threats that could harm his family in the future.
This was what he needed, James realized. He had been feeling listless since the operation against the Radiant Guild. He had focused on experimenting with his Talent, and for a time, that had been enough. Dungeon diving with his friends was fun too, and he hadn't minded taking dangerous missions when it was with them, but it had all been a way to fill the time.
There had been nothing pushing him forward, beyond the knowledge that he'd need power if he wanted to be a true actor on the stage.
Now, he had found something.
Closing the laptop as dinner time approached, James's mind was already racing with plans and strategies. He needed to learn more about Hopkins and Knowles and develop training regimens for himself to quickly push through the levels that kept him away from the third Awakening.
It will take some time. Months, years, more likely, but I'll get there. And when I do, I'm going to make you pay.
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The next day, James woke up with a sense of clarity and determination. He dedicated himself to training with his new skills, exploring the extent of his burgeoning psychic abilities. In the privacy of his room, he experimented with projecting his will, finding that he could manipulate small objects with increasing precision. He started with simple tasks like levitating a pencil or turning the pages of a book, each success bolstering his confidence.
As he honed his skills, James began to speculate about the future possibilities of his abilities. I might be able to lift much bigger objects once I get used to this. Well, I probably already can if I release an unfocused wave of power, but that'd be a bit too destructive to try here. No, finesse is good for the moment. Considering what I managed to do yesterday, calming Donovan down from a panic attack, I should be able to do the same against monsters, making them lower their guard. Eventually, I might be able to influence something deeper than surface emotions, but that seems a bit much. Well, it could be a powerful tool against monsters, but people… What I did yesterday was as far as I feel comfortable going for the moment.
He experimented with this on himself first, trying to calm his anxieties or boost his attention. The results were encouraging, and he began to see the potential for using this skill in a variety of situations, from calming a panicked teammate and disorienting an opponent to enhancing his focus during training.
The training session left him exhausted but fulfilled, his new abilities feeling more under control with every test. He saw constant growth that made him hope for the future. If, with just a few days of effort, he could go from turning pages to lifting his bookshelf with his mind, James felt he had made the right choice with Psychic Juggernaut.