A Title

Arvid awoke at the river bank's edge, his body aching from the fall and his mind swirling with the enigmatic visions of the 'page'. The golden text that had appeared before him was now etched into his memory, a cryptic testament to his new fate. The 'page' had vanished, leaving a profound sense of mystery and importance associated with his new title and traits. He sat up slowly, wincing at the sharp pain in his shoulder where the eagle's talons had pierced him. As he rose to his feet, he felt a newfound strength coursing through his body. Though still lean and wiry, his muscles felt more resilient and capable. It was as if his body had been subtly re-engineered to withstand greater physical demands, a subtle but significant change.

His thoughts turned to the 'page' and the strange writings it had left him with. He recited them under his breath, trying to make sense of their meaning:

Title: Factitious Skyfall

Dominant Traits:

-Cliff Hanger:

Strong arms make for good insurance against slipping but strongwill ensures against ambiguity.

-Freefall:

The weight of a feather at the burden of descent.

"In defense of her unhatched offspring, the bird of prey was preyed upon by a thief that stole its flight."

The very first thing that had him shocked was that he had a title, a title was a very rare bestowment that transformed a person. Titles were not completely understood, all that was known was that they came with boons and faults enabling people to transcend beyond the normal limits and capabilities of their already superman traits. These traits weren't just switches he could turn on and off; they were now intrinsic parts of him, abilities he had to live with and master. His title, however, did not seem overly encouraging. It painted him more as a fallen angel than the saintly figures he had heard about in legends. He had heard stories about various traits from the rumor mill and his aunt's tales, but those were far more mundane than the ones from his writings. The words felt like a riddle, their true implications eluding him. He focused on the two dominant traits, trying to understand their significance. "Cliff Hanger" suggested enhanced strength, that much was obvious but the latter words gave him no clear implications. "Freefall," on the other hand, was a bit more vague in general but he thought he could get some ideas on what it meant. He could tell these traits were all related in some way to his earlier debacle.

'Hey! That's not how it happened', he was incredulous at how the writings had twisted the story.

'A bit pretentious and mysterious' he silently remarked.

Arvid shook off the last vestiges of disorientation and made his way back to the river. His eyes scanned the water, searching for the eagle. He spotted it in its death throes, being swept by the current but its wing jagged on a piece of branch lodged in a crevice. He was in awe of the tenacity of the creature but remembered it was a creature of shade and likely not a weak one. He picked up a rock, marveling at how much lighter it felt, and hurled it at the bird. The rock struck true, putting an end to its struggles. Immediately, a black tendril-like substance seemed to leave its body, seeping from everywhere and entering his before he could even blink. He felt a shiver. Ah, ink - the illusive essence of the writings that enabled beings to transcend to greater realms of power and mystery. The writings were made from ink, but little was known about how it worked exactly. Taking the life of an organism with ink would lead to the ink flowing from that being into you. Sometimes even the writings of that being could flow into your page becoming new traits. Ink could be seen made manifest in such ways and more ink made your writings more powerful.

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He then dragged the carcass, which he thought should have given him more trouble, but it did not. As he walked through his dreadful neighborhood, he noticed various stares more interested in how they could get the meal from him than how he got it in the first place. The streets were filled with desperation and hunger, and the sight of a large bird was enough to stir thoughts of theft and violence. As he was walking he saw a man clad in matte green approach him,

"You okay over there son?", the man asked staring at the eagle and the disheveled boy. Arvid was surprised to see an enforcer in this part of town. In the world, some tailored deeds to always produce more or less the same result and traits later on, and these predetermined paths were called "passages" because the writings were more or less the same passage for these people. The enforcers were one of such but looser amongst the lower ranks where people had only undertaken one or two deeds and could still have differing traits. They never came here, partly because they wanted to ignore the crime and poverty here really existed and partly because they felt there was little to nothing they could do about it. The whole situation seemed strange to him but he got a hold of himself and replied with a forced smile,

"Yeah, just a bit cold", which all things being considered was true since he had been shivering from the river water and cold.

"I'll assume then you didn't get the news and because I don't want to have to tell it again, you'll have to ask your playmates", said the enforcer in a gruff tone before continuing his stride.

'Can't say I have much of those' thought Arvid as he continued walking.

Arvid's mind, however, was preoccupied with the uncertainty of his future in light of his new traits. If he had gotten something like the "good eye" traits that fishermen often received, life would have been simpler. Those traits were straightforward and practical. But his new abilities seemed to signal a more active and possibly violent profession. Maybe he could become an enforcer? That role encompassed all those with enhanced physiques. But the job itself wasn't something he necessarily wanted. As he neared his home, a small, dilapidated shack at the edge of the settlement, he couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. Arvid knew his Aunt would never approve of him staying in such a run-down place but she was always ill and had to take care of his younger sister, with food so scarce he could not bear to burden her further, he would find a way to survive. He paused at the door, taking one last look at the neighborhood. The cold dawn had given way to a harsh day, but he was determined to face whatever challenges lay ahead. The first deed had concluded, but he felt there were many more questions he had to find answers for now, and even in that sense of apprehension, he felt a little excited at the thought of the ever so slight possibility that his life could change