"Don't mention it, sis. That's what big brothers are for," Gabriel said nonchalantly, which, honestly, was pretty cool..
"Better not hurl that knife at me when I come home tomorrow though, or I'm taking it back," he warned, his eyes meeting mine in a look that suggested he was half-joking but also half-serious.
"Fair point. I really am sorry about the sock-ball, Gabe," I conceded, quietly adding another apology for the Mach-5 sock attack.
Gabriel then came over to my wheelchair, where I had clumsily been carrying around the old kitchen knife. I had been toting it around all day, not quite sure of its purpose but feeling obligated to have some sort of placeholder until he returned with the promised weapon to keep my story straight. With a sigh, he retrieved it and returned it to its more domestic setting in the kitchen.
Meanwhile, I turned my attention back to the combat knife he had given me.
Gripping it firmly, I let the contours settle into my palm as my [Knives] Skill went to work, instantly breaking down the blade's characteristics and potential uses. Despite its lacklustre craftsmanship, it had a gritty reliability that I couldn't help but appreciate.
The knife itself was a genuine combat knife, the kind you'd see strapped to the thigh of operators or gritty army grunts. Its blade was about 18cm long and about 4cm wide, crafted from what looked like some sort of carbon steel alloy.
The cutting edge looked menacing and definitely sharp, even if the craftsmanship was a little shoddy; I could see minor imperfections and nicks along the blade as I inspected it more closely. It had a full tang, giving it a certain heft that imbued a sense of durability, and its handle was wrapped in what appeared to be a worn synthetic material, intended for grip.
In my comparatively small hands, the knife looked almost comically oversized, like a child playing with an adult's tool.
As I held the knife, however, rotating it to scrutinise its blade and grip, I sensed an implicit affinity with it. This was probably my [Knives] Skill at work, having already bestowed upon me a foundational muscle memory and an innate understanding of knife-handling as a whole.
Despite its unrefined make, the weapon that Gabriel had given me was undeniably a better fit for the hazardous existence I found myself increasingly entangled in than any domestic kitchen knife could ever aspire to be.
As I slid the knife back into its worn leather sheath that accompanied the holster, Gabriel returned from the kitchen.
"Rule number one: No throwing this at your brother—or any family members, for that matter. Including Mum," he emphasised in a stern tone.
"I promise, no family targets," I assured him sincerely. I had no intention of causing harm to anyone in my—Sera's family.
As for Valeria, she was a nebulous variable, but I was fairly confident that violence wouldn't be necessary to stay in her good graces. At least not violence targeting her, directly.
"How much did this cost, by the way?" I questioned, my eyes following him as he began gathering the scattered sock-balls littering the living room floor.
"Don't worry about it. It was—" he began, but I cut him off.
"Gabe, seriously. I want to know so I can pay you back. I don't want to start this new chapter of my life owing creds to the only person I interact with on a daily basis," I asserted. I had no intention of spiralling back into a labyrinth of debt, juggling numerous creditors until I lost track of whom I owed what. I'd been down that chaotic path before and had no wish to return.
For a moment, Gabriel paused in his sock-ball retrieval, pondering deeply. His usual chattiness had abandoned him, replaced by a conspicuous silence that spoke volumes. I chose not to break it, giving him the space to think.
Eventually, he handed me the reclaimed pyramid of sock-balls. As I nodded in grateful acknowledgment, he exhaled deeply and finally spoke. "Listen, Sera. You've changed—a lot. I don't really know how to say this, but this 'new you' is different in so many ways... Very different."
His words struck me like a bolt, freezing me in place. Our eyes met as he continued. "Don't misunderstand me; it's not bad. It's just... different. And considering the coma, it's not your fault. But it's weird, y’know? Feeling like the little sister I've known for years has completely vanished, never to return."
I was speechless. What could I possibly say? He was spot on.
The original Sera, his little sister, had died, either when I entered her body or sometime before. There was no mimicking her, no faking it. Gabriel would have seen through any facade instantly.
He seemed to interpret my silence as unease, perhaps even fear, as he quickly went on to elaborate.
"Listen, Sera, don't get me wrong, alright? I'm not saying the new you is bad or anything, but… It's like you've done a total 180, and it's messing with my head. You're talking about paying me back, asking for a combat knife, dealing with Mum like you're some kind of corpo-genius, and hell, learning to juggle in one freaking day out of nowhere? This is all fresh terrain, things the old you would have never even considered doing, and it's intense," Gabriel's voice was laced with so much emotion, it was like you could feel the air vibrating around him.
He turned away, his shoulders quivering just a bit.
"The most messed-up part? It makes me feel like I have failed you. Like, I couldn't keep you from spiralling down into that dark pit you were in… Listen, I tried, okay? I really did. Tried my damndest to understand what was going on inside your head, but it was like you already checked out, like your soul was just done. And then you disappear, and it was like the world just dropped out from under me, you know?"
The room was thick with a kind of silent tension, and I knew he was struggling, probably wiping away tears he didn’t want me to see.
"And then, out of fucking nowhere, you return, only to be stuck in a coma. One that the docs couldn’t even tell us if you would ever wake up from. And then suddenly, you do! It's like some cyber-god somewhere decided to give you another shot, but with a twist. Giving you a second chance, but robbing you of everything that you were before…
"I don’t know if that’s even something the old Sera wouldn’t have loved, honestly. She probably would have greeted such a chance with open arms, based on the last few months that I remember with her… But you're... different, Sera. So damn different that I can't even remember if the old you ever had that fire in her eyes like you do now." His voice fractured as he said it, breaking under the weight of awe and heartbreak.
He finally turned around, his eyes a mess of tears and questions, looking for something—anything—in mine.
"Look, I know I've been going on and on, but hear me out on this, if nothing else: I like this new you, Sera. Yeah, I miss the old days, the old you, but seeing you all pumped up and actually giving a damn again? It's a breath of fresh air, y’know? You're not just merely existing anymore, you're living.
"The you from a few months back? You didn't care about nothing anymore. Debts, future plans, even the thought of waking up to another day seemed like it didn't matter to you—or worse, was downright painful to imagine. But now, it’s like you're switched on, and whatever you do… don't lose that spark. Alright?" His voice wobbled a bit, a raw edge to it that was hard to miss.
"If you ever hit a wall or something, come to me. Don't even think twice about it, okay? I'm here for you, always. Just… Please, promise me, if things get dark again, you'll let me know what’s going on? I… I couldn't bear the thought of failing you again like that; not being able to pull you back from that edge a second time…"
His words hung in the air, each syllable carrying a weight so profound it seemed to pull at the very gravity of the room. It felt as if the walls had absorbed his emotion, his vulnerability, and were reflecting it back in a palpable wave that left me stunned and speechless.
For a moment, I couldn't breathe, as if his earnestness had filled the space around us, leaving no room for anything else—not even air.
I stared into his eyes, genuinely seeing him for the first time not just as Sera's dependable older brother but as a vulnerable 16-year-old kid, besieged by the dread of failing someone he deeply loved. It was like glimpsing through a fissure in his emotional armour, catching a heartbreaking flash of a responsibility he'd taken up far too young, and far too alone.
In that instant, I finally pieced together an agonising part of the puzzle that had been Gabriel from the first moment our lives had intersected: The underlying reason he'd always seemed so poised, so unwaveringly mature and put-together.
The realisation hit me like a bolt of lightning—Gabriel had been forced to grow up quickly, to prematurely become that steadfast anchor for the old Sera as she grappled with her unseen struggles and demons.
He had willingly, perhaps subconsciously, jettisoned his own desires and aspirations, forgoing his own adolescent journey, to transform into a formidable shield that could absorb life's harshest blows on her behalf. And he had done it all without lament or even a moment's hesitation, sculpting himself into the rock she could hide behind, the guardian that deflected the complexities and darkness life threw her way, so she could fully focus on her own, personal battles…
His eyes met mine, and it was as though I could see the reflection of my past and possible future selves, flickering like transient ghosts.
The instinct to assure him—to wrap him in a cocoon of comforting lies—was overpowering, but the piercing sincerity of his plea held me back. This was a raw, unfiltered moment; it would be a travesty to dilute it with even a drop of insincerity.
I felt an emotional wall break inside me, one I hadn’t even realised was there until it shattered, and tears started to pool in my eyes.
"Gabriel," I started, my voice quivering and barely louder than a whisper. "I can't fathom what you're navigating through right now. But listen—really listen…”
Pausing for a moment, I drew a deep breath to collect my whirlwind of feelings and thoughts. "In my heart of hearts, I truly believe the old Sera never felt like you failed her. I can't explain it, but deep within me, there’s this indescribable ache—a torment at the mere thought of you feeling like a failure. It's almost like a phantom emotion, a remnant ghost of what the old Sera truly felt about you."
I locked eyes with him, a surge of determination strengthening my voice.
"I can’t forecast the future; no one can. But here's my solemn vow: If I ever feel myself spiralling down that dark abyss again, or any, for that matter, I will reach out. You've been my unspoken pillar of strength, even if I—or she—never overtly acknowledged it. The last thing I ever want is for you to think you've failed me. Because you haven’t. And I don’t think you ever will."
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
For a heartbeat, Gabriel seemed hesitant, as though he was wrestling with something colossal within him, a conflict too deep and private to put into words. I couldn't bear to see him in such turmoil any longer.
Shoving aside any lingering doubts, I forcibly rolled my wheelchair forward, wrapping my arms around him in a tight hug.
At that moment, the dam broke.
His body shook as he wept openly on my shoulder, his tears a potent testament to the unbearable weight he'd been shouldering for far too long.
I felt a surge of mixed emotions: relief that I could provide him a momentary refuge, but also a loathing I couldn't quite shake—a resentment for a world that would put a 16-year-old kid like my brother through this. I had always been enamoured with the grim realities depicted in cyberpunk-genre stories, but being thrust into a narrative of this sort, I found myself reevaluating those fascinations for the very first time.
This wasn't a fictional narrative; it was cold, harsh reality.
Gabriel's struggles weren't even unique, if my knowledge of cyberpunk was in any way accurate; they were probably echoed across the fractured lives of countless others in this bleak world. Tens of thousands of people, if not more, were bound to be enduring the same emotional battles, and the thought disgusted me.
For the first time, I recognized the unsettling reality that had lurked at the periphery of my consciousness: I'd been treating this life like a game, like an extension of Neon Dragons, my previously favoured virtual reality. I’d been so wrapped up in my personal odyssey that I’d overlooked the gravitas of the actual human suffering around me.
This was no game.
The people I interacted with were not mere NPCs, only there to facilitate my own story and fancies. These were living, breathing individuals, each with their own narratives of pain, hope, or despair.
And I was now a part of this intricate web, my actions capable of rippling through their lives in ways I could hardly fathom.
As I held Gabriel, letting him unload years of pent-up emotional agony, the reality of my situation truly sank in. This was my life now—a life inextricably tied to others, subject to the unbearable weight of very real consequences.
And it was about time I started taking it seriously.
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The remainder of the day unfolded in an emotional haze, a nebulous blend of unspoken understanding and introspective silence.
Initially, an electric charge of heightened emotions lingered between Gabriel and me, as palpable as static in dry air. But as the hours slipped by, the tension gradually evaporated, giving way to the familiar rapport we'd shared over the past few days.
Given the emotional torrent we'd just navigated, I opted not to broach the subject of my upcoming mental Attribute training. It would have to wait—a day or two perhaps, contingent on Gabriel's continued emotional state.
Without the option to use the Rest Function—I couldn't very well slump unconscious in my chair without sending Gabriel into a worried frenzy—I had limited time to further hone my skills.
However, each tick of the clock found me lost in a labyrinth of contemplation about the trajectory of my future.
While the cornerstone objectives of my immediate plans remained largely unaltered, my outlook underwent a fundamental shift. I found my previous schemes disconcertingly self-focused, a revelation that filled me with retrospective shame, particularly in light of the soul-baring conversation I'd had with Gabriel earlier.
No longer would my blueprint for the future be solely a series of checkboxes for personal milestones. Interwoven now were considerations for Gabriel's well-being and strategies aimed at uplifting Sera’s—or rather, my—family.
The scope had broadened; my ambitions had matured, deepening to accommodate responsibilities and loyalties that extended far beyond the confines of my personal desires.
To truly inhabit this world meant forging authentic, meaningful relationships with the people in it. The closest relationships at hand were with Sera's family—my family. I also committed to delving deeper into the fabric of Sera's former life, to seamlessly weave myself into the tapestry of her existence.
One particular goal had crystallised out from all others: I needed to dismantle the psychological partitions between Sera and myself.
Although I'd taken steps toward this before, it was painfully evident that I had not fully absorbed her life into my own. In the corridors of my mind, I remained a distinct entity, separate from Sera. But for the sake of lasting relationships, of thriving in this unfamiliar landscape, such compartmentalization was untenable.
Gabriel wasn't merely Sera's brother—he was my brother.
Oliver wasn't just Sera’s and Gabriel’s father—he was also my father.
And Valeria wasn't simply Sera's mother, as much as I wanted that to be the case; she was my mother, too. It would probably take a while for me to accept that part in particular, but it was something that, ultimately, I had to come to terms with.
These were the mental barriers that I needed to dismantle, over the days, weeks, and perhaps months ahead, until I could genuinely consider myself a true denizen of this new world.
Previously, there had been a niggling suspicion deep within me that perhaps this was all a fleeting dream, one that would dissolve into the ether, negating the need for my full integration. But Gabriel's emotional eruption had shattered that illusion.
Such a mindset was not merely unproductive; it was a stumbling block to my ambitions; something that would continue to hold me back, no matter how much I tried to succeed.
The well-being of Sera, her family, and by extension, myself, were not mutually exclusive objectives—they were facets of a singular gem that could only shine its brightest when each aspect was given due care.
I may have been lulled by the trope of the many isekai narratives I had consumed, where a flawed protagonist was whisked away to another world to merely replicate the mistakes of their former life.
But this was not a fantastical tale spun by the whims of an author; this was reality, and the sooner I fully engaged with it, the sooner I could truly thrive.
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By the time Gabriel and I decided to call it a night, Oliver was still conspicuously absent from the home front. A work emergency had ensnared him, potentially tethering him to the office for the entirety of the night, a reality he had conveyed to us via a terse message.
Gabriel and I had shared a rudimentary dinner, cobbled together from a local vendor for the modest sum of two creds. Over the meal, I discovered that the combat knife, complete with its sheath and holster, had set Gabriel back by a staggering 94 creds.
For people of our economic standing, the amount was nothing short of astronomical.
Despite the heavy weight of guilt that was already anchoring me, I felt a fresh surge of it as I urged him to return the purchase. I couldn't reconcile myself with such an exorbitant expense, especially given the fabrications that had led to it.
But Gabriel was unyielding, revealing that he had been squirrelling away funds for an unspecified period, stashing them for non-urgent needs—a financial nest-egg, so to speak. According to him, leveraging those savings to ensure his sister's safety was precisely the sort of endeavour he had been planning for.
My heart felt like it was being pricked by a thousand tiny needles as I absorbed his words, but his tone had admitted no further debate. Silently, I vowed to repay this hefty debt as swiftly as I could manage—whenever that may be.
As I reclined in bed, my mind rifling through the chaos of the day's events, a realisation dawned on me. Amidst the emotional turbulence and ensuing discussions with Gabriel, I had neglected to check any of the notifications that had arrived since his homecoming.
This included the alerts that had pinged during my ill-conceived sock-attack, as well as any updates related to the smidgen of training I had managed to squeeze in before nightfall.
I summoned the notifications on my interface, my eyes widening involuntarily as they scanned the screen. A soft gasp escaped my lips; I hadn't anticipated gains of this magnitude.
[System]: 100xp gained for Reflex Attribute.
[System]: 200xp gained for Intuition Attribute.
[System]: 200xp gained for [Throwing] Skill.
[System]: 100xp gained for [Juggling] Skill.
[System]: 100xp gained for Reflex Attribute.
[System]: 100xp gained for [Juggling] Skill.
'Fuck me, 200xp in both Intuition and [Throwing] from a single toss? That bullseye really must've hit different... And using [Blademaster’s Throw] as an augmenting factor couldn't have hurt,' I contemplated, meticulously sifting through the day's bounty of experience points. 'Upgrading [Throwing] should be a priority as soon as possible, ideally complimenting my [Juggling] Skill grind in some way…'
My musings on experience gains transitioned into a more urgent internal dialogue as I squared away the numbers. 'Alright, Sera, enough fucking around. It's time to clamp down and drill deep,' I mentally rallied, steeling myself for the impending ordeal.
I had to confront this sooner or later: The true boundaries of this altered, System-integrated body. And better to probe those limits under controlled conditions than to be blindsided later, I reasoned.
While Gabriel succumbed to the allure of slumber on the room's other end, I, too, shut my eyes. But unlike him, sleep wasn't on my agenda.
Far from it.
The mechanics of Neon Dragons had included an intriguing quirk: The player character never actually required sleep. Sure, the Rest Function was an available option to simulate the natural rhythm of a day, but it was entirely optional rather than mandatory.
If my newly bestowed abilities mirrored those of the Neon Dragons' protagonist, I had reason to believe that I might also function without sleep.
Although I would have loved the option to pull all-nighters after I had gotten my hands on a Crown or a [Programming] guide software—perfect resources for grinding Skills while defying the call of sleep—I wasn't bereft of tasks to fill the twilight hours either.
There was one Skill, in particular, that had languished on my radar since Day One, a Skill I had once decried others for overlooking. The irony was definitely not lost on me.
The Skill in question? [Meditation], naturally.
My strategy was unadorned in its simplicity: Instead of invoking the Rest Function to skip right to dawn, I instead wanted to intensely cultivate my [Meditation] Skill over the span of the next eight uninterrupted hours. Come morning, I would pick up the rhythms of my day, rinse, and repeat the nocturnal grind. This cycle would persist either until sleep finally overwhelmed me or until I reached the end of an arbitrarily chosen four-day period.
By the conclusion of this gruelling regimen, I would definitely know whether sleep, for this strange, System-augmented existence of mine, was a luxury rather than a necessity.
With a bit of fortune, the hours I intended to pour into grinding my [Meditation] Skill might even yield enough Attribute experience for me to inch closer to one of my much coveted Attribute level-ups.
After all, [Meditation] was no normal Skill, as all of my other Skills currently were; it could be used to grind experience to incrementally enhance my Ego and Intuition Attributes, albeit at a snail's pace. These were Attributes I knew I absolutely could not afford to overlook in my overall development.
And yes, you heard that right, hybrid-type Skills did indeed exist in the world of Neon Dragons.
Such hybrid Skills were governed by not one, but two separate Attributes, presenting a double-edged sword of opportunity and challenge.
While they made it considerably more difficult to focus on boosting a single Attribute, they offered a bypass to otherwise pesky bottlenecks in my Skill progression. In essence, the ceiling for a hybrid Skill's level was determined by whichever of the two governing Attributes was stronger.
Ups and downs, as one might say.
So, with that game plan in mind and the hopes that I might get an upgrade for my Attributes along the way, I breathed in slowly and steadily, emptying my mind to welcome the long hours of continuous [Meditation] grinding for the night…
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[— Attribute Information: Intuition 1 — 200 / 1,000 XP —]
[The measure of a person’s instincts and intangible knowledge. Provides intangible information about the world, such as feelings of danger, potential opportunities that might have otherwise gone unseen and bolsters a person's ability to see through other's deceptions. Couples with the Reflex Attribute to provide enhanced reaction speed as well.]