Charlie’s heart sank as he stared at the image of the precursor initiation protocol, he found himself rooted to the spot, his gaze locked onto the floating holographic text that hung in the air before him. The sight was bizarre, surreal. A translucent blue box suspended in mid-air with lines of text rippling across its surface, appearing as tangible as anything in the physical world. Was he losing his mind? He'd always craved a bit of an adventure, yearned for the sort of excitement he'd read about in his favourite books or played out in his beloved video games, but this? This was beyond anything he'd ever imagined. The strange display in front of his face wasn't something he'd ever seen outside the realm of his favourite genre of books. An unsettling thought wormed its way into his mind, causing a chill to skitter down his spine. Was this real? Or had something inside his brain finally snapped, giving way under the pressure of his disabilities and teenage anxieties?
His train of thought was interrupted by a sudden, searing pain that exploded across his face. His head snapped back, and he crumpled onto the pavement. The world spun as Max's fist connected with his cheek. The cruel irony of reality reasserted itself in the form of pain, his worries about the protocol forgotten in an instant. As Charlie's vision swam, the sound of Ellie's voice cut through the fog of his mind. “Max, you bloody arsehole!” her voice echoed around the street, sharp and venom-filled. As darkness started to encroach upon his vision, he could hear the panic in Ellie's voice, a desperate cry for help that rang in his ears as consciousness slipped away from him, the "Accept" button on the notification flashing in his vision.
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As consciousness returned, Charlie found himself in unfamiliar surroundings. The softness beneath him wasn't his own bed, but the strangely comforting firmness of Max's. His bleary eyes blinked open to a dimly lit room, the low lighting creating an eerie play of shadows on the walls. It took his brain a moment to catch up with his senses. Why was he here in Max's room? As the fuzzy edges of his vision cleared, he noticed Max slumped in a chair near the bed. Max’s usual bravado seemed to have evaporated, leaving him looking hollow and weighed down with guilt. Ellie was perched on the edge of the bed, her eyebrows knitted in concern as she held an ice pack to his aching temple. Despite the throbbing pain, it was strangely comforting to have her there.
Max's room was like stepping into a whole other universe—one where disability didn't dictate the boundaries of your world. Walls were adorned with posters of Wolverhampton Wanderers, his beloved footie team. Action shots of the players frozen mid-kick or erupting in victory celebrations seemed to pulse with energy, a testament to Max's undying loyalty to the sport. Mixed in among the footie memorabilia were posters of female models, their confidence captured in striking poses and captivating smiles. The room was a testament to Max's fervour for sports—shelves crammed with football gear, shiny trophies, and medals stood proudly among a collection of worn-out boots bearing the telltale signs of countless hours on the field. Yet, amidst the almost militaristic organization, a trail of discarded clothing—a crumpled football jersey here, a pair of socks there, and a pile of discarded training shorts—marked the room with the carefree disorder of a teenager's lifestyle.
Lying there amidst the stark reminders of their contrasting lives, Charlie couldn’t help but feel like an alien invader in this world of athleticism and unbridled confidence—a world that his disability wouldn't allow him to be a part of. But as he looked over at Max, slouched in the chair, his face shadowed with regret, Charlie realized they were both grappling with the weight of their actions, each in their own way.
Charlie winced, lightly touching the tender spot on his head. "What... What happened?" He managed to croak out, his voice sounding rough and alien to his own ears. "I screwed up, Charlie," Max admitted his voice a low rumble filled with guilt. "I was ticked off, and I took it out on you. I didn't mean to... It's just that you insulted me and I... I lost it." Max's gaze, typically so assured, now flickered with a mixture of guilt, regret, and an unmistakable hint of genuine concern. It was a side of Max Charlie had rarely seen before.
Charlie's foggy memory started to clear. The chain of events returned to him in fragmented flashes. The unintentional acceptance of the Precursor Initiation Protocol, the insult that he had thrown at Max, Max's fist coming out of nowhere, Ellie’s horrified outcry, the overwhelming rush of confusion and pain—it all fell into place like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. He gingerly reached up to touch the tender spot on his head, a painful memento of the chaotic event. "Max," Charlie began, his voice strained but steady, "I know we have our differences. But lashing out is not how we solve things. We used to be mates. We've got to find a way to hash things out without you resorting to punching me whenever I rile you up."
Max deflated a little, his remorse apparent. "You're right, Charlie. I overreacted. I let my anger take control. I shouldn't have punched you. I... I’m sorry." Max's voice quivered as he extended an unexpected offer. "Charlie, I know I messed up. I’m ready to face the consequences. If it would make things right, I’ll turn myself in." Charlie was taken aback by Max's surprising proposition. While a part of him wanted Max to face the repercussions, he also saw genuine remorse in Max's eyes. But punishing Max wouldn’t erase what had happened.
Before Charlie could respond, Ellie interjected, her voice soft with worry. "Max, turning yourself in won’t change the past. We need to focus on moving forward, learning from this, and making better decisions in the future." Charlie took a deep breath, his mind a turmoil of thoughts and emotions. "Max, your willingness to take responsibility says a lot, but getting yourself into trouble with the police won’t fix everything," Charlie said, his voice steady and compassionate. "Instead, let’s learn from this incident and focus on how we can make things right. We need to move forward and build some trust.”
The atmosphere in the room was so thick, Charlie was half-tempted to cut it with a knife. Instead, he chose to do what he did best—crack a joke. "Well, Max," he started, forcing a light-hearted tone into his voice, "Waking up in your bed wasn't exactly on my bucket list, but at least I’m still dressed." Ellie couldn't hold back a fit of giggles, her hand flying up to cover her mouth as laughter overtook her. Even Max couldn't suppress a smile, a hint of it showing in his eyes. "Hey, Charlie," Max replied, the tension in his voice ebbing away momentarily. "If I wanted to undress you, mate, I'd at least take you out for dinner first."
The room filled with laughter, the levity providing a much-needed break from the weight of the situation. It was amazing how humour, timed just right, could break through even the thickest tension.
Following the much-needed light-hearted exchange, Max's mum, Mrs Thompson, extended an invitation for Charlie to join them for dinner. Grateful for the gesture, Charlie agreed, curiosity piqued by the prospect of his first meal at the Thompsons' residence. As he sat at the kitchen table, relishing the lasagna prepared by Ellie's mum, he couldn't help but feel a bit restless. The delicious flavours delighted his taste buds, but beneath his enjoyment, a nagging blue flicker at the edge of his vision reminded him of something he wished he could ignore. Ellie, ever so perceptive, caught onto his unease. Her expressive eyes filled with worry, and Charlie could tell she had a hunch he was withholding something. "Charlie," she questioned gently, her voice betraying her concern, "are you sure you're okay? After all that happened today... You're not hiding any injuries, are you?"
Charlie froze fork halfway to his mouth. Ellie’s astuteness always caught him off-guard. He swallowed, realising his casual act hadn’t fooled her. He wanted to brush off her worry, and say he was fine, but the throbbing pain in his head contradicted his bravado. "Ellie, I won’t lie," he began, his voice softer than he intended. "I’m a bit sore, but it's nothing serious. I didn’t want to make a fuss. Just knackered from today, I guess." Ellie’s concern didn’t abate completely, but her expression softened. She reached across the table to lay her hand over Charlie's, her touch a silent promise of support. "Charlie, you don't have to bear all this alone," she said softly. "We're here for you, always. If something's bothering you, or if you’re hurt, we're here to help.”
Mixed feelings of gratitude and guilt surged within Charlie as he met Ellie's compassionate gaze. He was acutely aware of his recent aloofness, an attempt to shield her from the unsettling truth of what had transpired. However, her heartfelt words served as a gentle reminder that true friendship meant sharing not just the good times, but the tough ones as well. "I know, Ellie," he responded, his voice earnest and sincere. "And you have no idea how much that means to me. If there's anything important I need to share, I'll let you in. Right now, a bit of kip is what I need most. Thanks for caring, though." Ellie returned his words with a soft, reassuring squeeze of his hand. "Just make sure you take care of yourself, Charlie," she implored, her voice laced with unmistakable worry. Charlie nodded, his secret still a hefty burden on his shoulders, but he offered her a determined assurance, "I will. And don't sweat it, tomorrow's gonna be a great day at the arcade. We're gonna have a blast."
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As the evening came to a close, Charlie bid Ellie and her family goodbye, Max's apologies and promises to make things right echoing in his ears. The persistent flashing in his peripheral vision was a constant reminder of the enigma that lay ahead. But his mind wasn't solely preoccupied with uncertainty anymore. He knew now he wasn't alone in his struggles, that the strength of true mates could indeed make a world of difference. Stepping into his own house, Charlie found his gaze naturally gravitating towards the flashing light only he could see. It wasn't something he could simply point out to others; it was more like an ethereal presence within his line of sight, drawing him towards a different reality. Intrigued and somewhat perplexed, he concentrated on the mysterious flicker, trying to decipher its cryptic message.
After a few fruitless attempts, the word "notification" sprang into his mind. To his astonishment, a translucent blue box appeared in his field of vision, as if his thoughts had the power to summon it. The box shimmered like a holographic message, hovering in the air before his eyes. Its digital script glowed with an almost surreal luminescence, demanding his attention. The edges of the message seemed to vibrate with spectral energy, adding an element of magic to its peculiar presence.
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
Precursor.
For taking part in the Precursor Protocol you have been granted one reward.
Use it wisely.
As Charlie took in the contents of the notification, a gasp escaped him. His eyes widened as a ring shimmered into existence, materializing out of thin air to rest in his open palm. His mind reeled at the sight, washing away any lingering doubts or confusion. This wasn't just some random daydream or a result of an overactive imagination – it was bloody real.
Charlie found himself utterly captivated by the mysterious ring that had just materialized out of nowhere. As he held it, a chill ran down his spine, triggered by the cold touch of the metal on his skin. It was like nothing he'd ever seen, its surface glinting in the light. The metal, of an indeterminable kind, gave off a hypnotic sheen, it's surface covered with intricate patterns that reminded him of the captivating swirls of Damascus steel.
His curiosity flared, Charlie turned the ring over, observing it from every possible angle. He traced his fingers over its smooth surface, trying to sense any sort of magic or anomaly. Yet, it seemed... ordinary, if he ignored the fact that it had literally popped into existence out of thin air. It had to be more than it appeared, hiding its true nature, a cloak of mystery veiling its real powers. Enthralled by the enigmatic piece of jewellery, Charlie found himself losing track of time as he examined it, his eyes scanning for any hidden markings. Despite his keen observation, he found nothing out of the ordinary – it seemed to be just a ring, albeit one that had materialized in the most extraordinary circumstances. As he was about to dismiss the possibility of discovering anything more, another notification flickered to life, pulling his attention away from the ring and back to the digital blue box. It was a description of the ring, floating before his eyes.
[Ring of Holding]
Rarity: Uncommon
Type: Accessory
Enchantment: Concealed Storage Capacity: 1000 cubic feet
Description: The Ring of Holding is an artefact infused with powerful magic. It possesses the ability to store and retrieve items within its concealed space. When items are placed inside the ring, they become weightless and are preserved in the condition they were entered. However, please note that the ring cannot store living beings or creatures.
Activation: To access the storage space, touch the ring and concentrate on the item you wish to store or retrieve. The ring will respond to your mental command, allowing you to seamlessly manage your stored possessions.
Soul bonded: This ring has been bonded to Charlie Finn, only he is currently capable of opening it unless he authorises anyone else to do so. This ring cannot be lost or stolen, if it is taken more than 100 feet away the ring will rematerialize on the finger of whoever it is bonded to.
Caution: While the ring’s storage capabilities are impressive, it is important to exercise caution. Overloading the storage capacity or attempting to store prohibited items may have unforeseen consequences. The ring is designed solely for inanimate objects.
Charlie's heart pounded in his chest as he held the Ring of Holding, his eyes wide with the dawning realization of what it meant. The ring wasn't just a fancy accessory – it was a freaking game-changer. His lips curled into a grin so wide it felt like his face might split in half. "Bloody hell!" he blurted out in triumph, his voice echoing around his room. His excitement was so potent, it felt like he'd swallowed a firework. He hopped up and down, cheering and laughing. It was a strange sight, the usually laid-back teenager bouncing around his room like he'd just won the lottery. But then, this felt like he had.
In his jubilant dance, Charlie forgot the limitations of his own body. His legs wobbled beneath him, betraying his energetic enthusiasm, and he tumbled onto the hardwood floor. Even the fall couldn't wipe the grin from his face. He laughed, a loud, infectious sound that bounced off the walls. "It’s a bit shit that I've got these bloody physical debuffs," he quipped amidst his laughter. "But hey, a pocket dimension? That's definitely a fair trade."
Charlie's giddy laughter slowly subsided, replaced by a thoughtful expression. The mention of physical debuffs sparked a realization. His eyes widened in sudden comprehension. Could he...? Without losing another second, he decided to try it out. He concentrated on the word “status,” hoping against hope that it would work. And just like that, another screen appeared in his field of vision, translucent and teeming with information. Charlie blinked in surprise, taking a moment to comprehend the new sight. It was like staring at an intricate computer game HUD. There it was, his status – his strengths, his weaknesses, everything laid bare before his eyes. He was left gawking at the sight, a sense of awe washing over him. The discovery was just as astonishing as the ring, if not more.
Name: Charlie Finn Race: Human [Rank G] Class: Precursor Level: 0 Potential: Undefined EXP: 0/100 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Strength: 8 [-4] Dexterity: 7 [-4] Constitution: 7 [-4] Intelligence: 12 [-2] Wisdom: 11 Charisma: 14
Titles:
None
Feats:
None
Skills:
None
Charlie's eyes darted across the information displayed before him, parsing through the numbers and labels that marked his strengths and weaknesses. A tingle of shock snaked down his spine as he saw the "debuff" next to some of his attributes. He'd been aware of his physical limitations, sure, but seeing them defined so clinically, reduced to cold, hard digits, it hit differently. It was a sobering reminder of his cerebral palsy, a condition he'd grappled with all his life. Staring at his stats, Charlie was momentarily lost in thought. In most of the games he'd played, and books he'd read, humans were given a standard set of average attributes, usually about 10 points in each. Glancing at his own stats, Charlie felt a jolt of surprise. If he could ignore the debuffs, his scores suggested that he would've been 'above average'. His charisma and intelligence were off the charts, even with the debuffs. A whopping 14 for charisma, and 12 for intelligence. What could he have been without the cerebral palsy? The question echoed in his mind, a tantalizing 'what if' he couldn’t help but consider.
Shaking himself from his introspection, Charlie's gaze hardened. The debuffs were there, mocking him, challenging him. But he'd be damned if he let them dictate his journey in this unexpected adventure. He felt a spark of determination ignite in his chest. This was his vow, his promise to himself. He'd conquer these debuffs, and rise above his limitations. He'd spend every waking moment battling the odds, training himself, improving, and growing. He'd make these numbers mean something. He'd show this world, and himself, that his debuffs weren't the end, they were just the beginning.
Failure? That wasn't in Charlie's vocabulary. If this new world was as lethal as it seemed, failure could mean death. But he wouldn't let that happen.
Charlie looked at the debuffs again, but this time with a different perspective. Yes, they were hurdles, but they were also an opportunity, a challenge to overcome. He saw potential, a unique path that only he could tread. His gaze focused on the debuffs, as though willing them to divulge more information. To his surprise, another notification popped up, providing details about his cerebral palsy debuff. As he read, a revelation struck him like a lightning bolt.