My brother wanted power, and so he chose

warfare. But I wanted to research, that’s why I

became a scientist. My contributions to this

world have been valuable, but my victory over my

brother outshine them.

-Savvria Ixen Âkil, President of the ISPC

The strings were divided into three parallel groups, each containing fifteen threads. Their purple color popped out from the green and brown of the forest, giving life to the panorama full of dead leaves scattered around the ground.

Ludwig grew the strings, pulling them out even more until they reached a length of six meters. After a stretch of threads, he began weaving them together.

In order to make what Wagner had called ‘reinforced strings’, the strings needed to be folded on top of each other, following a defined structure. Otherwise, the threads would lose part of the additional strength given by the formation.

Ludwig coiled the left and right groups of threads thrice around the middle set, using a clockwise motion for the right batch, and a counterclockwise motion for the left one. After that, he tied the strings in the last slipknot in order to finish the reinforced thread, composed of four knots in total, separated a meter and a half from each other, with stretches of string in the middle.

An interesting thing about the reinforced threads was the necessity of the knots, being the thing that granted them strength. Nevertheless, despite their necessity, increasing the number of knots wouldn’t do much, since they didn’t ‘stack up’. Apparently, each knot granted a fixed amount of additional power, which couldn’t be surpassed, to a section of strings behind it, with a maximum length of one meter and fifty-three centimeters. But since it was hard to be that precise, Ludwig just eyeballed it and put them around the meter and a half mark.

He then touched the screen of his phone.

“Eight seconds,” Ludwig said as he took a mouthful of air.

He had been containing his respiration for the whole process. It was easier to concentrate that way.

(An upgrade of five seconds since last time,) Wagner reverberated. (You’re improving quickly.)

“Finally,” Ludwig said with a slight smile on his face.

Three days ago, after a day’s worth of waiting, Wagner had finally remembered how to make reinforced threads and Ludwig had begun his practice with them.

Till this day, he didn’t know what Wagner meant when it said that it had remembered it, since it often referred to the event as discovering it. But Ludwig gave up on it by the second day, guessing it was a misunderstanding caused in the middle of translating concepts to words.

The training had proven difficult at the beginning. But with a little bit of time, he had caught the hang of it, and now he was making quick progress. Maybe because he now knew about the knots and its properties and didn’t try to fill the threads with them.

Ludwig waved the reinforced thread coming out from his hand around the ground, launching the leaves to the air as they cracked from the impact. He then grabbed it with his right hand, caressing it with his thumb.

The thread… Felt weird. It had a metallic texture, and the knots were none existent as he moved his hand along the string. For some reason, the knots disappeared after a period of time, almost changing to the appearance of a normal thread, only brighter, emitting a stronger purple light.

It also… Every time Ludwig touched the string, he felt the contact from it, and not only from his hand. The thick string had the same sense of touch as his hands, maybe even a better one. Despite already knowing that, it still felt disconcerting.

Ludwig had thought of the strings as something external from his body, even though his body was what created them. In a sense, they had been like sweat, or mucus. But now… Now they felt similar to a third arm.

An incredibly strong extremity.

He was still amazed at the fact that less than thirty strings badly reinforced had been able to lift him up. If he could do that with so few… What could he do with a hundred? Or better yet, a thousand?

A part of Ludwig became incredibly intrigued. And another part reminded him that he barely could reach forty strings. It was going to take some time if he wanted to answer that kind of question. Maybe more than what he thought.

Even so, his curiosity didn’t vanish.

“Ok, I’ll restart the timer.”

(No,) Wagner calmly thrummed.

Ludwig stopped his finger from pressing the screen.

“What? Why?”

(That’s enough.)

“I’m sure I can get them done even faster, if that’s what worries you.”

(It is not. I’m not worried, it’s just time to move onto the next step of research.)

Ludwig slightly raised his eyebrows and let the reinforced string retract into his body, the knots evaporating at the same instant as it began pulling back.

Pulling the strings in had become second nature to him.

After what he considered too many accidents, Ludwig had tried many ways for his strings to disappear quickly. The best one he had found was just letting them go.

He had discovered that whenever he pulled threads out of his body, he was constantly ‘pushing’ them, even if he wasn’t moving them around. It was similar to pulling just barely a measuring tape so that it didn’t go back into the roll. And so, now, when he wanted them to retract, he just stopped pulling.

It had been hard at the beginning, mostly because he hadn’t had any idea on how to do that. But after experimenting with that invisible ‘muscle’, he had discovered that he only needed to do a slight but constant pressure on it, as if moving it a bit to the side until the whole string retracted.

Learning that had been more difficult than anything related with the strings. But it was worth every second spent.

“And what do you suggest we do?” Ludwig asked, curious.

(First, I want you to calm down,) Wagner thrummed slowly.

“I am calm.”

(Not enough,) Wagner reverberated plainly. (I want you to… Meditate! That’s the word.)

Ludwig raised his eyebrows once again.

“Is this part of the research?”

(It’s a requirement in order to begin.)

“Fine,” Ludwig sighed at the same time as he shrugged.

He walked around the forest until he saw the lonely tree from his first visit. Ludwig decided to do his meditation under its remaining leaves. He sat and leaned on the brown trunk, his legs crossed and his hands behind his head.

A lot of people wouldn’t consider this meditating due to his stance, but meditation was meant to relax the body and mind, and a comfortable stance would be more useful than looking like a monk.

That said, Ludwig had no idea how to meditate. So he sat there, listening to the birds and the blowing wind, waiting for his mind and body to calm down.

…

…

…

(Are you asleep?) Wagner inquired with a subtle reverberation.

“No. Why?” Ludwig asked, still with his eyes closed.

(You weren’t moving, and your heart rate has slowed down. Also, you weren’t thinking. At least, not consciously.)

“That’s the point of meditation. You’re supposed to clear your mind while being still.”

Wagner thrummed in response.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

“And what do you mean by not thinking consciously?” Ludwig then said while opening his eyes. “Can you think without being conscious?”

(Yes. Though you may refer to such thoughts as dreams.)

Oh… Wait. A person might have between three to six dreams per night. Does that mean…?

“Can you… Can you see my dreams?”

(...You’re using ‘see’ in a confusing manner.)

Ludwig growled annoyed.

“Can you perceive my dreams in some form?”

(...)

Ludwig was ready to growl again.

(Yes, I do. But I must say that I do not understand them. At least most of them… I suppose that you’re calm enough. Let’s get on with it.)

Ludwig wanted to keep asking questions, but he abstained from doing so. He got up, wiped some leaves that had stuck to his pants, and returned to the area free of trees within a few meters.

“Ok. Now what?”

(We need to think of ways to improve your combat effectiveness if we want to win our next encounter with Armstrong.)

The beast inside began to wake up.

(I think we should… Ah. It appears it wasn’t enough.)

Ludwig looked around for the sudden change.

“What do you mean? What happened?”

(Nothing for now.)

“And who’s Armstrong?” Ludwig asked, beginning to get lost.

(The lady that attacked you.)

Was she? That was… A weird name.

“How do you know that?”

(The radio in your room mentioned a particular scene near the place where we encountered her. Other people apart from yourself were also attacked by the lady. Some died. But others lived and told about it. They remarked her as very dangerous.)

“Good thing we already know that.”

The beast inside agreed.

“Ok, well. That’s… At least we have a name,” Ludwig just realized as he said it. “So, how can we kill her?”

He had never thought that saying such words was going to be so… Easy.

(Kill? Didn’t you want to get revenge?)

“Yes.”

(But then, that’s not revenge.)

Ludwig tilted his head facing the treetops.

“Why do you say that?”

(Revenge is to get back what someone did to you. She didn’t kill you, so wouldn’t it be more logical to only hurt her really badly?)

“She didn’t do it, but she tried. That’s what 's important.”

(Ah,) Ludwig thrummed in understanding. (Well then, I suppose we at least should be equal if we want a chance to beat, sorry, kill her. Do you recall something else which wasn’t her strength from the encounter?)

Ludwig put his hand onto his chin and began thinking.

“She is pretty tough. That knife didn’t do much to her.”

(Do you recall something else?)

“No. I think that’s it.”

(Mmh… Just as I thought.)

“So, we need to match her strength and durability if we want to have a chance against her, then?”

(The only truly necessary aspect would be a method to pierce that defense of hers. But ideally, yes. Both strength and durability would be good assets for our fight.)

“Mmh… Do you think the reinforced threads could damage her?” Ludwig said, pulling a string from his hand.

(I do not know. Unfortunately, we don’t have enough reference to make that kind of conclusion.)

Ludwig patted his head, trying to think of something that could help. But in the end, nothing. He didn’t know his superheroes and villains. After all, the last time he saw any news about them was in the cinema, fifteen years ago.

Fortunately, he had one of the many wonders of the modern world in his pocket.

He grabbed his phone and typed ‘How strong is Armstrong?’ in the search engine, hoping for the best. Ludwig then pressed on the first result that appeared, hopeful for having found any link at all.

WoloVillains.wiki.net/atlas/armstrong

Of course there was a wiki about villains. The surprising thing would have been if there wasn’t. Ludwig then scrolled down, trying to find some information.

Apparently, the web page had more than ‘some’.

‘Rea Armstrong is a very famous potens in the villain scene. She’s mainly known for being a hit-man for Chess in Expansion Valley, though some blogs and newspapers mention her appearance in the rest of The Cracked Islands as well as Cuba. As such, the number of lives she’s reclaimed is estimated to be in the three digits. In said victims, we can highlight the heroes Steel, Bubble, and Jetstream, as well as other important figures in the villain scene such as Thorn and Oak.

Armstrong has also participated in arms smuggling, and drug traffic, mainly in New Miami and Cintia with symbologist equipment and stroll.

She’s a six-atlas, but her capabilities match potens of bigger calibers. Let’s remember she was able to escape Don Quijote, and the elderly hero Victoria. It has been four years since her last appearance, but we can suspect that she’s still roaming around some place in the world…’

The wiki continued with what appeared to be the surprising amount of information about her past life, other encounters she’s had, and quite more that Ludwig wasn’t interested in.

“So, a six-atlas…” Ludwig said, as if he knew what that meant.

Apparently Wagner caught his bluff.

(We still don’t know what that implies,) Wagner thrummed plainly.

“...We know what to search for.”

(Mmh… I suppose we do.)

Ludwig searched on his phone once again, this time typing ‘What is a six-atlas?’. The superhero fans didn’t disappoint. This time, the site was called InneaPotens.

‘Atlas are potens whose powers grant them super strength of some sort. Said strength can vary from a little increment, to being able to tear houses from the ground…’

Ludwig scrolled down. He didn’t really need the introduction to atlas. He knew that much.

‘The atlas scales, done by Richard J. Richter and some colleagues of his, are the current method that everyone in the potens world uses to classify atlas. Despite this, multiple entities, including the creator of said scales, have regarded them as quite flawed. But, since they’re the only viable method, companies, governments, and such use them…’

Despite being interesting, Ludwig wasn’t in the mood to learn about scientific history regarding potens. He scrolled down once again, this time finding what he was looking for.

‘Atlas are assigned a level corresponding to their physical prowess. They range from one to ten, as every other power classification in the Richter Scale:

One-atlas: They are the lowest among atlas. They generally have the same level of strength as an olympic weightlifter, of course, without being in shape. Using the Richter Scale, the average one-atlas can lift five hundred kilograms…

…

Four-atlas: This is the vanilla ice cream of atlas. Nevertheless, being the most common level doesn’t mean that their strength should be diminished. Using the Richter Scale, the average four-atlas can lift two thousand and five hundred kilograms. They basically can lift a van over their head!...

…

Six-atlas: Using the Richter Scale, the average six-atlas can lift seven thousand and five hundred kilograms. And not only that, but from this level, atlas acquire invulnerability to normal calibers! I don’t know about you folks, but after discovering that, I’m getting a seven hundred nitro express…’

Ludwig stopped reading.

“That’s… Mmh,” Ludwig tried to say. “I don’t think the reinforced threads are gonna help much. In fact, I doubt there is something that’s gonna help.”

(I don’t think the gap is that big. You’re pretty heavy. How much do you weigh, Ludwig?) Wagner reverberated calmly.

“I… I think that I’m around eighty kilograms. Or at least was.”

That had been fifteen years ago, but Ludwig was pretty sure he hadn't put on more weight, unfortunately for him.

(Oh. That… Changes things,) was all that Wagner thrummed.

Ludwig nodded, clearly knowing what he meant, but confused on why Wagner had thought his weight reached the thousands.

(If she can lift that much, she probably wasn’t serious when she fought us,) Wagner remarked.

“Probably not.”

(... Do you still have that knife?) It then asked.

“I’m sure that the police have what remains of it.”

(...Umm. How much… How expensive is one of those nitro express?) Wagner then inquired.

“I think the cheapest ones are like ten thousand dollars,” Ludwig said.

(Do we have that kind of money?) Wagner asked in what Ludwig could assume was a hopeful tone.

“Not at all.”

…

(... I’m… Uh… I don’t have any ideas at the moment. Do you?) Wagner finally said.

For a moment, Ludwig thought that the beast inside was beginning to rumble, but it turned out to be his stomach. The practice must have awakened hunger.

The only good idea Ludwig could think of was having breakfast.