Chapter 43 For Better or Worse
“Be afraid of the madman, so steeped in it they do not realise their own madness.” - Hayden Xin, S-Class Prophet and founder of the Remnant Foundation
Aiden wasn’t sure what to do after that revelation.
He didn’t do much more testing after that, well, he tried one last thing.
The training room shifted as Ranpo manipulated the controls, revealing a sandpit. Holding his Umbrella, he consciously controlled the tattoo on it.
Grey fingers closed onto his own, as the tattoo reached up to his own arm.
The Umbrella was not noticeably changed, it was already heavily compacted, the true size of the entity squeezed into a broken butcher knife.
Aiden then stabbed the end of the weapon into the sand.
Then he began manipulating the tattoo again.
Arms weaved together like petals spread out, the blade at its centre, covering sand and rising upwards like a flower blooming.
He could control it, like any one of his tattoos, so long as he was directly in contact with it.
Then Aiden shoved it all back into the blade, and the risen hands collapsed, their forms nothing but sand.
“No one but you can manage that huh,” Ranpo remarked.
Testing with Ranpo, the Umbrella could be used by people other than himself, though for Ranpo it was slightly dangerous because he didn’t have a Hume status, the only indicator the crow had for when he was using Hume was when he started phasing out of existence.
But only Aiden could directly manipulate the tattoo of the weapon.
He unpacked the tattoo again, letting it flow onto his body until he was entirely covered in grey.
Tapping his grey covered skin, he found it cool and hard as stone.
It was a direct defensive upgrade from all his previous tattoos.
When he was manifesting the woven arms around him, he would be forced to remain stationary due to needing to remain in contact with the tattoo.
The range of the Umbrella’s ability didn’t seem to increase with the ‘unfurling’, remaining completely static, even if its ‘petals’ reached far out of its coverage.
“The only problem is that this would be damaging to property,” Aiden noted.
He began to push it all back into the blade, and for a brief moment he wanted to reabsorb it, just to see what he had spent. It would be quick, he knew, and he could remake it later.
But he didn’t know if the emotion in the Umbrella was something he would want to keep.
Aiden was fragile.
He saw clearly the difference, while glancing blows by Johnjohnjohnjohn had almost killed him, Jun tanked dozens and dozens of direct hits with only a few bruises to show for it.
Aiden was sure a direct hit by Johnjohnjohnjohn would’ve simply turned him to paste or directly gored him.
Right now the question was whether or not the emotion within was worth the defensive power the Umbrella gave him.
It was not.
For he only had one life.
Death was not an option for him.
He wasn’t sure why it ever was, but so long as he breathed he needed to fight against it, because so long as he was still alive, there must be meaning to his actions.
So Aiden did not reabsorb it, instead packing it back into the Umbrella.
“Let’s go,” Aiden said after he packed the books back into his bag. By his phone’s clock, it was almost night.
“Right,” Ranpo replied, hesitatingly following behind him.
The crow’s steps were slow, for he was considering something.
‘If Aiden cannot recreate a creature derived from purely fictional sources, how does he- or his ability know that it is fictional?’
If Aiden was truly fooled with the red sugar glider, then how did his ability differentiate it? Did it have a separate intelligence? Was there some intrinsic factor to ‘real’ creatures that could not be drawn upon from a fictional one?
As Ranpo waddled on the ground, he was about to open his beak and discuss this question, but he saw something white slither onto the surface of Aiden’s pants.
Oros, its slit eyes staring right at him.
Then it raised its tail to its mouth, not to bite it, but to touch the side of the tip to its lips, showing a universal sign.
A quiet shush, telling Ranpo not to speak.
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“Group two rest!” Trist yelled.
Aiden heaved deep gulpfuls of air as he slowed to a stop. Trist had divided them into groups, group one had abilities that physically buffed their bodies somehow, group two didn’t.
Surprisingly, Jun was in group two.
“Can't I just wear my mask, teach?” they yelled, sweating as they stopped beside Aiden.
“We’ve been over this!” she yelled back as she ran beside group one, “Your ability buffs your existing physique only while wearing it, train your base body so that there's more to buff! Five pushups for talking back!”
Jun groaned as they lowered themself, “I already always wear it…” they grumbled.
“Five more pushups for grumbling! The rest of you jog in place!”
Groans all around, even Aiden almost let out a slip before he began dutifully jogging in place, each of his legs felt so much like heavy logs he was inclined to yell ‘Timber!’ when he would inevitably fall from exhaustion.
That never came, however, as Trist finished riding group one dead tired like a mule, she pulled out a white board from the back of the gym.
“Now for the theoretical component,” she calmly said.
A bit of sweat and perspiration was on her face, Aiden briefly wondered why she didn’t rewind herself to get back into full form, before realising, ‘She wouldn’t gain any muscle strength like that. She can’t train her body if she constantly rewinds herself.’
“Is now really the best time to be learning theory?” Vince panted with a raised hand, noting the tiredness of the class.
“It is not, which makes it the best time,” Trist answered. “When the Guard or military police deal with a metaphysical incident, they have information on their abilities, plans, doctrines and specialised equipment in place. You will not have that.”
She coldly looked over each of them, “Some of you will become first responders to a meta incident, or be placed in situations where such information and equipment cannot be accessed quickly, safely or reliably. In such situations, you will not have the privilege to think with a rested or readied mind. It is better to get used to such situations now than in the midst of a firefight.”
Trist turned and began writing on the whiteboard, “So we’ll be having such theory classes after exercises, today we’ll be learning the Wanderer’s Code and basic military doctrines against each classification of meta.”
“You should already be aware of most symbols of the Wanderer’s Code, namely, the ones that tell you to immediately get the hell out of a situation. Today, we’ll be learning the symbols that give information on how you can actually fight.”
She drew a number of stick figures, boxes, squiggly lines and other symbols on the board.
Aiden’s narrowed onto one, a stick figure holding a gun and a cross.
The same symbol as written on that bus stop.
Trist tapped onto it, “This one means that whatever you are fighting, you must pray while doing so.”
Vince raised a hand, “Pray?”
Trist nodded, “It can be to anything, gods, a random mountain, or even your favourite musical band. The only need is that the prayer has to be genuine. If the target of the code requires you to pray for a specific thing, then the cross will be swapped out with a corresponding religious symbol.”
She briefly drew a few symbols beside the cross, an oval egg, a hammer and broken chisel, a scale, an eagle, a wheel and an upside down cross.
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“Can you ride a bike?” Huang asked me.
Aiden nodded, thinking privately, ‘Slightly redundant question.’
“And you know how to speak Qin…” Huang muttered. “Do you have a Qin name?”
“No I don’t,” Aiden answered honestly.
Huang was silent for a moment, thinking.
He shrugged, and dumped a large food delivery bag into his hands, “You’re hired.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Aiden was taken aback for a moment, almost suspecting a joker's trick, before he asked, “Did you only hire me because I spoke Qin?”
The chef sighed, “There is only so many of us left now… 我们因该照顾自己的人。” (We should look after our own people.)
Aiden was slightly taken aback, before he silently nodded. “谢谢老板。” (Thank you boss.)
He chuckled, “能说国语，就说国语，鬼佬人觉得很异国情调。”
Aiden let out a slight smile, only slightly faked this time.
After a moment where he familiarised himself with the app, and orders began piling in.
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“Is there any specific reason you need to do this?” Ranpo asked, flying beside Aiden as he cycled. “We just had a master class on why this is not necessary.”
“It keeps my old bones fit,” Aiden answered, breathing evenly as he cycled.
Ranpo rolled his eyes.
“There is a better reason though,” Aiden continued, “the government healthcare insurance in this country is linked to hours worked, if I work fifteen hours every week, I can qualify for their lowest health insurance plan, which is vastly cheaper than the commercial one, and I obviously can’t list my gallivanting around as a job.”
“Huh,” Ranpo answered, “That… actually is a good reason. Why didn’t you bring it up before?”
The bike slowed.
Aiden raised his false hand, rubbing his brow.
“That… why didn’t I think of getting health insurance before?”
After losing his hand, the sensible thing would’ve been to immediately look into it.
Yet… it seems like he didn’t even consider the idea.
Not until…
He glanced at the two bags behind him, one, a massive square thing covered in advertisements for Huang’s restaurant, the other, his to-go bag with a med kit, spare clothes, food and,
His Umbrella.
“I’m starting to have an idea on what I might’ve lost,” he muttered.
Slowly, rain began to drip down from the sky, wetting the earth and patter in rhythmic sequence.
Ranpo landed on the middle of handlebars as Aiden took out his Umbrella to use it for what it was named for.
The rain paused above his head, sliding off behind him as he cycled.
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It was a surprisingly easy job.
Most customers paid online, so all Aiden had to do most of the time was knock on the door, pass the order to the person and just leave.
Huang’s store was also rather popular, the hustle and bustle meant the waiters would just leave the orders on the counter for him to take, his interaction with the other employees were minimal.
And when he did, no one commented on the fact that the rain did not touch him, and was in fact pooling in a puddle above his head whenever he stopped moving.
The casual apathy to the blatantly supernatural was still rather odd to Aiden, even if he was the source of said supernatural event, but then again, after seeing random old people from nursing homes going on mass zombie killing sprees, he suspected that nothing would really surprise him either.
“The weirdest was the cancer patient,” Ranpo muttered as they left. “Like old people I can understand, you probably need to be crazy to live to old age, but a tiny kid with emaciated arms and a bald head beating a zombie about eight times his size into the asphalt was extremely dissonant.”
“It’s just a strange image right?” Aiden replied, cycling through the rain, “But apparently it’s not that uncommon, people originally with weak bodies tend to have the strongest brute and physique type powers.”
“Don’t they usually change with it?” Ranpo continued. “Like Jun, she- I mean, they have a pretty weedy looking base form.”
“Not that bad to be honest,” Aiden noted, “they have a basic physique power without the mask, like I do with my regen, it’s just that certain aspects of their physique gets buffed when they are wearing a mask.”
Nightcore Jun got enhanced regeneration, while Daycore got enhanced strength. The speed was a byproduct of speeding up time, while the durability was a byproduct of slowing it down.
Aiden didn’t fully understand how it worked, the Daycore portion in particular, just that it sorta did.
Ranpo suddenly shivered, tucking his head and beak into his feathers, “Does it feel a bit colder now?”
Aiden raised an eyebrow, the rain seemed to have stopped, yet behind him, he could still hear it patter the earth. He experimentally blew out a breath of air, seeing it quickly whiten and mist.
It had been getting colder, slowly enough that they didn’t realise the difference until now.
Aiden slid open his hoodie, letting Ranpo shuffle in as he zipped it back up.
“What time is it?” Ranpo asked.
“9:46,” Aiden replied, glancing back at the largely empty delivery bag, “I believe this is the last order we have to deliver.”
“Let’s hurry then.”
The place was close, only a few more blocks, yet as Aiden cycled closer, he felt the temperature continued to drop.
Sensing something wrong, he stopped, opening his own bag and taking out a hoodie, not anymore thicker than the one he was wearing, but its material swiftly changed as Aiden used Polar Bear Fur and Skin, on the outside of the coat, and on the inside he used the Arctic Fox.
Draping the end result over his other coat, he felt the chill on his torso lessen. After another application on his pants and shoes using different creatures, he pulled up his hoodie, so that only his face was exposed to the cold.
Ranpo snuggled beneath his chin, Aiden kept riding, the temperature continuing to drop as he came closer to his destination, a single suburban house that stood amongst nothing but empty lots.
“Is the sky supposed to be blue?” Ranpo suddenly asked.
Aiden almost retorted, ‘Of course you idiot,’ before he looked up.
Seeing a pure blue sky.
At nine PM.
“Are we stuck in a Gate?”
Aiden shook his head, “I don’t sense any alien Hume, it’s probably an ability.”
The world was quiet, Aiden didn’t notice how utterly silent it was until he stopped talking. It was like the morning after fresh snowfall. The world was cold and muted despite the fact Aiden saw no snow.
And the sky was blue, yet it was blue in a way that felt painted, cloudless and without a sun.
As they got closer, the temperature continued to drop, to the point Aiden began to see frost on the ground.
Suddenly a door creaked open.
The sound was deafening in the silence, and both man and crow unintentionally tensed.
The singular house in this street opened its door, as a person heavily clad in winter clothes stepped out.
They were clad heavily to the point that they looked like a ball, their face was obscured by a hoodie, beanie, scarf, skiing mask and goggles.
The person was carrying something, a pile of flat cardboard boards.
They raised one high above their head.
SORRY! YOU MUST BE NEW. PLEASE LEAVE THE NOODLES WHERE YOU ARE! SORRY!
After a moment, likely to wait for Aiden to read the text, they put that board down and raised another one.
I CAN’T DEACTIVATE MY ABILITY! SORRY! IT MAY BE DANGEROUS IF YOU GET ANY CLOSER! SORRY!
“They wrote sorry a lot,” Ranpo observed.
Aiden got off his bike, taking out the sealed plastic bowl inside his delivery bag.
“Should I just leave it on the ground?” he yelled.
The person seemed to shiver as they froze in place, before they rapidly nodded their head.
“Should I stop further back next time?”
The person kept furiously nodding, though Aiden had the feeling they barely registered what he had just said.
Regardless, Aiden walked a bit further, and placed the plastic bowl on the ground, before returning to his bike.
Then the heavily clothed person raised their hand and grabbed something.
Aiden watched as they seemed to grab the air itself, the scenery where their hand was warping, as if it were a picture and someone had scrunched it up a little.
The space between the figure and the bowl took on a blue tinge, as they seemed to pull at the blue like it was a piece of cloth.
Like a person pulling the tablecloth of a table to bring forward a dish, they slowly dragged the bowl closer as space itself was warped in a myriad folds.
When the bowl reached them, they casually grabbed it and let go of the blue tinge, space snapping back to normal as they did so.
Without looking at him, they hurriedly ran back into their house.
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As Huang’s shop was closing, and the boss himself was busy wiping down the kitchen, Aiden stepped in, casually grabbing a spare mop to help.
Huang raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment as Aiden began helping him clean.
“Who was the person at 52nd Cloud Street?”
“Ah,” he said, “I forget she orders today.”
“She?” Aiden noted, not realising the person’s gender before, in part because they covered themself in so much.
“She is shy,” Huang answered. “Her ability is particularly strong, but it keeps a lot of people away from her. How close were you able to get?”
“Probably a hundred metres or so,” Aiden replied. “Barely enough to hear each other through yelling.”
“She talked to you?” Huang asked, temporarily pausing to look incredulous.
Aiden shook his head, “No, I mean I yelled at her, so that she could hear me.”
Huang nodded in understanding, likely having had a similar experience, “How were you able to get close?”
“I used my ability.”
That seemed to pause conversation for the moment. Huang seemed to be aware of the etiquette to not ask too deeply about such things.
“She is a good person,” Huang continued, “I don’t think she’s Qin, but she likes my cooking.”
“Is that all it takes to be a good person in your books, 老板?” Aiden joked.
Huang chuckled, before slapping Aiden on the back.
Aiden tensed, eyes watching Huang.
The older man didn’t seem to notice as he continued to say, “Head home for the night, brats like you need sleep.”
Realising the slap was playful, Aiden smiled and nodded, “Night boss.”
“Good night to you as well.”
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Aiden let out a sigh as he stepped out of the restaurant.
Huang didn’t mean anything with that slap, and he had been hit with far worse before by more dangerous things like goblins or Johnjohnjohnjohn, it was just that…
Huang was an older, asian male.
Aiden shook his head, Aiden Bu wasn’t abused in this life, it wouldn’t make sense for him to have such a reaction, so neither should Aiden Lu, the current owner of the body.
He briefly pondered if he should try to make those memories into a tattoo.
He might be able to succeed, even if the memories weren’t linked to a particular creature, he was able to forget mundane things like appearance, ideas and even entire portions of time when he had absorbed and remade Oros those few times.
But would he be able to forget the emotions?
Aiden had read somewhere in his past life that PTSD victims did not cease symptoms when they gained amnesia, the responses they had were ingrained. Since there was no ability linked to the memories of his past life, would such an attempt only remove his memory of the events, but not the emotions and instinctual reactions he had?
Should he even attempt it, if he could remove those emotions?
What would be left of him, if he had removed that, what was left of him, if he removed such a core experience?
For better or worse, his previous life defined who he was.
Would he still act with the same determination, would he still doggedly pursue a path forward, would he still seek a better life, if he had no memory or emotion of the worse one?
Aiden did not know.
Right now he just had a single mission, a single job.
To get Aiden Bu’s sister back.
All the rest was noise.
He can find the noise pleasant, he could even pause and enjoy it.
But Aiden always remembered that there was something that had to be done.
If removing the memories of his past life was needed.
Then Aiden would simply do it.