A familiar world, of pristine skies, mirrored by crystal clear seas, where all was well…
When the western expanse thrummed with sudden power, transforming half of the sea into a raging maelstrom of surging crimson.
The sinister red, churning and writhing in chaotic mirth rushed forth, as if to infect all.
The eastern expanse rose in retaliation, shimmering and rippling through once-calm waters, pulsing with delicate tendrils of ivory-white light, their glow unusually dulled.
Where the two seas met, reality wavered, manifesting once more as a pulsating scar across existence. One that bore witness to an eternal contest preceding time itself, an emblem of a tumultuous truce.
What had delved into the depths had resurfaced, no longer the same.
A world, no longer familiar, sundered in two.
The boundary between trembled, pushed back by the chaotic sanguine of the west, attempting to usurp the serene waters of the luminous east.
The equilibrium was shifting, what was once harmonious devolved into discord, the border between, quivering in uncertainty.
The tranquil sea was forced to retreat, its radiance dulled, as if stifled or in a deep slumber.
In stark contrast, the raging waves of crimson pulsed with visceral energy, strengthening its dominion over the world.
One sea had overwhelmed the other, and the boundary between quaked and rumbled.
Once peaceful waves rose and swelled, tempestuous, crashing in bursts of red and white, of chaos and order.
The border between sizzled and smoked, a rift in the fabric of the world.
The rhythmic yet erratic waves clashed with deranged laughter, the sanguine scarlet seeking to uproot the wispy white.
The line between, the border rending the two realms, was pushed back.
Yet with every conquest of the crimson sea, the more precarious the world.
A maddening pressure bore down upon all beneath the heavens.
And with a sudden rupture, the line of boundary unleashed a dreadful bubble of pitch-black, tarry ichor, as if the abyss itself had sprung forth…
Only to descend once more, dissipating into the ocean depths.
Then, and only then did the world calm once more, settling itself into an uneasy peace.
Yet the balance had shattered, once unblemished and peaceful waters forever transformed.
What remained of a once pristine world was a sundered ocean of sanguine and ivory, the crimson sea reigning supreme.
***
“What can you see Miles?”
The wind tousled through his hair as he held a familiar hand, and Miles looked down at the sprawling city beneath them.
A metropolis of steel and neon unfolding underneath an energy dome of shimmering gold, the protective glow embracing the entirety of the city and all its denizens with equal favor. Daylight bathed the city, reflected off glass buildings in dazzling patterns that accentuated the vibrant holograms and colossal advertisements. Transporters zipped through the air weaving radiant trails that crisscrossed the skyline, in seemingly chaotic yet harmonious movements.
The ever-present hum of the energy dome, the sounds of the urban city, filled Miles with a sense of vibrancy.
It was a sight that he had always found awe-inspiring, but today was different.
“A stolen kingdom?” he answered with discontent.
A sputtering noise caught Miles by surprise. When he turned, he found his mother with a hand on her face, struggling to stifle her laughter, yet failing spectacularly.
“It’s not funny mother! Butler Alexander told me that the Draig family has been methodically usurping the throne from the Lykaon's over the centuries! He said they didn’t like me being a prince! He even said they were the ones to change the name to Capital City!
And it’s a really stupid name! What is it even the capital of?”
His mother laughed even harder now, but before Miles could begin to feel wronged, she ruffled his hair, making a proper mess of it.
He always hated when other people patted him on the head like he was a little child, but he never minded when she did it.
By the time his mother finally got a handle on her laughter, she knelt down to meet his eyes. Her dress was slightly disheveled, but she was beaming so radiantly that Miles couldn’t help but feel happy too.
“Alexander is a sweetheart, and he really cares about our family. But this city, it’s not a kingdom, we’re not a monarchy, and there’s no throne to usurp. Even if you’d make a sweet little prince.
But he wasn’t exactly lying either.”
Miles frowned, “So then…”
Without an answer, she gently guided him to turn around, back to the view of the city, the hustle and bustle down below.
“Look again Miles, what do you see?”
“A City?”
“Yes, but stating the obvious there, mister. A hint then, what does the city have?”
Frowning more deeply, Miles started to make a list, “Buildings? The energy dome? Transporters?” he paused, “…People?”
“Yes! People!”
Confused, Miles turned to his mother, “You’re also stating the obvious mother.”
She laughed, “Yes, maybe I am!” and ruffled his hair again, “But, people are the often overlooked, yet essential component of any Corporation, City… or even kingdom for that matter!”
Miles was still confused.
But his mother was patient, and she looked deep into his eyes as she continued, “You know this city was built by the people, right? So how can it be a kingdom with a king, or someone’s private backyard to play with as they wish? The men and women that built the city, and decided they wanted the Lykaons to lead them, they’re the real owners. So, if they feel they need someone new to lead them, that’s up to them. Does that make sense, Miles?”
Miles nodded.
It didn’t.
His mother smiled, seeing right through him, and bent forwards to place her forehead against his own, “It’s fine if it doesn’t. So, I’ll ask you something else. If you really were my little prince, would you want to be a good one or a bad one?”
Eyes widening, Miles exclaimed, “A good one!”
“Then, if your kingdom was being invaded, should the little prince protect the kingdom or the people?”
Miles paused, chewing his lips, and finally answered, “I don’t think I’m old enough to be answering these questions.”
His mother was taken aback, but soon started to laugh again, “I see your father has prepared you really well! The way you avoided that question, you were like a real businessman!”
Miles was sure she was teasing, but he still felt proud.
Agnes stood back up, wiping off tears, and held out her hand again, “Come on then little prince, since I seem to be a really bad teacher compared to your father, we might as well go and finish the construction of the new transporter engine! I can teach you that at least! But you must promise me to answer that question when you’re older, alright?”
Miles nodded happily as he took her hand.
He never did get to answer her.
***
Miles found himself awakening in discomfort and unfamiliarity for the second time. Much worse even compared to the sub-par sleeping arrangement he had found himself in before.
This bed was tough, rock-solid and disconcertingly… concrete?
Reaching for the old talisman hung around his neck for a moment of solidity, he sat upright immediately, blinking away the unconsciousness and disorientation.
It didn’t take him long to gather his bearings.
An unremarkable rooftop.
The concrete surface was damp beneath his palms, rusted pipes leaked dark water, patches of ambient fae moss and fungi clung to corners in eerie luminescence, and the occasional rat scuttled through dark recesses. It was as typical as an outer city rooftop could be, and to his great relief, he had been lying down in a sufficiently dry area.
Miles glanced at his shoulder, remembering the grievous injury, only to find…
A palm sized hole in his expensive suit, the inlaid ogre skin peeking out from underneath the seam where the suit had been ripped through, and no signs of injury, to him.
‘What the hell?! Even the broken bone has grown back?’
His surprise must’ve shown on his face for a voice pierced the silence soon after, “That’s right! That is the reaction expected! I just watched your bones regrow, muscles knit back together, and skin regenerate in the span of half an hour! Whatever Vampirism has granted you, it is no ordinary recovery ability! That was true-blue regeneration, a Fae ability only known to be gained from serums meant for those beyond Gamma!”
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Turning his attention to Zhan Shen, the obvious owner of the voice, Miles observed the butler leaning against a wall of the stairwell enclosure leading to this rooftop.
He glanced back at his shoulder, rotating and flexing the muscle, poking and prodding at his skin to make sure it was real.
Even through the hole in the suit, there wasn’t a scar to be seen, no lingering pain, not even a trace of the injury.
'Huh, so, while the fire, or rather the laser, halted Conditional Undeath, it was not permanent.'
Presumably, it had restarted once the heat of the laser had died down, and there was no longer a 'fire' to interrupt the healing.
But unlike Zhan Shen, Miles was not disconcerted by the extent of his regeneration. Considering the description in the system status and what he had seen of that Vampire before, he had expected something similar. Even if fire, one of the mentioned weaknesses, was involved.
Well, the exact duration required for the regeneration, half an hour if Zhan Shen was to be believed, the extent of the injury, and the relationship of the two quantities thereof, was definitely something of interest… but this was not the time for experimentation.
Miles exhaled a heavy, conflicted breath.
If anything, he found the events prior to be of greater concern.
The events of the fight and everything after were clear, yet also… not. It was like he was looking through a fogged window.
It was all there in his memory, but it didn't feel right.
He could remember what he had done, no, he could feel it.
Miles caressed the dried blood on his fists.
He could remember what it felt like, as these same knuckles broke through ribs to cave in a chest. He could remember these fingers grabbing onto a head, and just snapping the neck in two.
He could still feel these very fingers break, as he tried and succeeded in ripping off an arm. How that very same arm was used to impale half a dozen gangsters to death.
Miles glanced at the unseelie steel tipped boot on his right foot, the infernal metal as morbid as usual, but the leather of the boot near the tip seemed to have darkened. He could clearly remember how this boot had kicked through a palm and gouged out an eye.
He didn't even need to look, he could feel it, on him, on his suit.
He could smell it. Tickling, irritating, assaulting his nose.
Rusted, rancid Cyberware and— blood.
The deaths were... acceptable. He had been trained, prepared all his life to accept it.
Yes, that was fine. The problem was that he could remember, no, he wondered if he could ever forget...
How he had lost all semblance of control.
That surge of emotions, from something inside of him, the pure unadulterated rage that had shattered even through his meditative control, the disgusting thirst that had made him want to lap at a gangster's throat like an unhinged, uncontrolled feral beast…
If it wasn’t for the fact that just the memory, and the smell of bloo— didn’t cause his mouth to feel unusually dry, reminding him of a thirst he was sure he shouldn’t be feeling, Miles might’ve wondered if he was imagining it all up.
‘Pathetic. How could I have lost control so easily? Pathetic.’
And yet, despite all that, being a Vampire, no, Vawul, was what had led him to be the victor of the fight. The currently not even scratched victor.
Miles was under no illusion about his position in the battle power 'food chain'.
No serums, no cyberware. If he wasn't the Lykaon heir, all he had for him was some martial arts training and what little he had gained from Zhan Shen's spiritualism practice.
In just the prior fight against the runts of the Hakuryuu, not even full-fledged gangsters, he had struggled.
Despite his numerous advantages, Vampirism was what had played a pivotal role. Without the title of Newborn Vawul granting him Vawulan Senses, the very air would not have 'assisted' in avoiding the many attacks. Without Conditionally Undead he still would have a burnt through hole in his shoulder.
So even if all that had come at a steep cost, the results were already there for him to see.
Pushing a hand through his hair, Miles answered to the elderly butler, a grin on his face, “I told you didn’t I old Zhan? I don’t make losing deals! If I chose Vampirism, it is with a reason!”
Zhan Shen narrowed his eyes, but eventually scoffed, “Don’t get ahead of yourself, but sure, we’ll see soon enough, won’t we?”
Miles tried to hold the grin for a while longer but failed. And it was silence.
Even though he knew what he had gained, even when he had experienced the results...
He kept staring at himself, and his bloodied hands, and trying his level best to try and not think about—
He really needed a distraction, and spoke out, "The regeneration is all well and good, but I… old Zhan, do you have some way to control the 'side effects'?”
Miles didn’t get a reply, and it was long enough to make him look up, to find Zhan Shen leaning back, looking up at the night sky.
The leaking Fae effluents had accumulated over the sky of the outer city for centuries, turning it into a shimmering, dancing affair, like something out of a fever dream.
The old butler pursed his lips, and finally glanced down from the shifting sky, “I don’t know much about Vampirism, besides what I can glean from your… changes, but, controlling the mind and spirit, that I can surely help with. So, yes, we’ll talk more after the visit to the Faesycian.”
Miles nodded, this was indeed neither the time nor the place for spiritual meditation.
The old butler however, chewed on his lip for a few seconds, before finally asking, “Master Miles, about the fight, I… knew that something might happen, but still–”
Miles was quick to wave a hand, “I understand. It was a good lesson, and you know I do not shy from responsibility. It’s all good old Zhan.”
Zhan Shen shook his head, “I will still apologize, nonetheless. I may have overstepped my authority–”
Miles frowned, “Oh shut up old Zhan! Overstepping authority my ass! Is this really coming from the same fellow that would hurl their young master across rooms for training?”
“W-What? Master Miles that was for your training! And it was under controlled, safe conditions! Not like this, where you may have been maimed for life had it not been for your regeneration! Even I don’t–”
Miles took a moment, but eventually smirked, “Ah, I see now, you’re trying to make me forget about the fact that I went and won the bet, right? What, afraid of what this young master will make you do?”
Zhan Shen froze.
This conversation was obviously not going the way he had expected.
But in the end, the old butler seemed to understand his intentions, and let out a relieved yet grateful laugh, “Ha! I have and always will be a man of my word! And me? Afraid? Is your head screwed on quite all right?”
‘Good. That’s better. You don’t need to be regretful old Zhan. You were right. This is my decision, and my responsibility.’
Zhan Shen still seemed relieved as he continued with a clap of his hands, “Well then Master Miles, before you lose more of your mental faculties, let us set off without any further delay–”
At that, however, Miles raised a finger, cutting off Zhan Shen, as he casually rose from the floor, “A moment please. Something I believe needs to be taken care of, before continuing our visit to the local ripper-doc.”
There had been a strange feeling, like a beeping reminder or a sense of nagging, from inside his mind.
He might even have focused on it first had it not been for, well everything else. But it wasn’t particularly troublesome or distracting. It was just there.
Not something he had meant to do and forgotten, not a lapse in memory or thought, but something unnatural.
And as it turned out, a wonderful distraction from everything he was doing his level best to ignore.
Feeling the slightest tinge of excitement, Miles mentally called out to the system. And like an avalanche, a barrage of messages flooded his vision, text as dark as midnight over transparent boxes.
Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!
[You have slain {Human / Worthless Cyber-Ware (Sybahware StrongMan [Muscle Enhancement] Implant (v0.3) / Vulcan Energy [Stamina Boost] Implant (v0.5))} x5]
[You have slain {Human / Inferior Cyber-Ware (Sybahware StrongMan [Muscle Enhancement] Implant (v0.9) / Vulcan Inferno [Pyrotechnic - Palm] Implant (v1.2))} x1]
[You have slain {Human / Inferior Cyber-Ware (Sybahware Quik [Muscle Enhancement] Implant (v0.7) / Capital Oculus [Vision - Eye] Implant (v1.6))} x2]
[You have slain {Human / Common Cyber-Ware (Capital Oculus Azure [Vision/Reactionary - Eye/Partial Nerve] Implants (v2.3) / Lefay Draconian Skin [Defensive Interaugmentary] Implant (v1.9))} x1]
[You have slain {Human / Uncommon Cyber-Ware (Sybahware PowerMan [Muscle Enhancement] Implant (v1.1) / Sybahware Strider [Tool - Left Foot] Implant (v1.3) / Vulcan Blade of Mantis [Weapon - Arm] Implant (v3.3))} x1]
[You have slain {Human / Uncommon Cyber-Ware (Sybahware Quiker [Muscle Enhancement] Implant (v1.8) / Vulcan Tower Shield [Tool - Arm] Implant (v2.0) / Lefay Neural Burst [Weapon/Tool - Palm] Implant (v4.2))} x1]
[You have slain {Human / Worthless Cyber-Ware (Sybahware StrongMan [Muscle Enhancement] Implant (v0.3) / Vulcan Energy [Stamina Boost] Implant (v0.5) / Sybahware Strider [Tool - Right Foot] Implant (v1.3)} x1]
[You have slain {Human / Worthless Cyber-Ware ( Sybahware Iron Boned [Skeletal Enhancement] Implant (v1.2) / Sybahware StrongMan [Muscle Enhancement] Implant (v0.5))} x1]
To be perfectly honest, Miles had some difficulty perusing the kill notifications.
Oh, not out of guilt, regret, sadness or anything of the sort. That was different.
This was simply about the fact that they presented a deplorable spectacle of terrible and outdated cyberware.
‘StrongMan and PowerMan, Quik and Quiker, both standard muscular enhancement implants. Strider, a basic leg implant for an instantaneous dash via a rudimentary piston embedded into the foot, usually used as a pair. And if I’m not wrong, all three are implants from SybahwareTM. But didn’t my father buy them out nearly two decades ago? These implants are practically antiques now!’
Without frequent patches and updates, they must have led to severe compatibility issues, neural lag and even bio-poisoning.
As for the rest, although originating from ostensibly ‘superior’ corporations, the versions indicated were still over a decade old!
To think these runts of gangsters couldn’t have gotten their hands on a single piece of quality Lykaon Cyberware. No wonder they had smelled like ancient, rusting metal.
As for Fae Serums, or rather their general absence, either these Hakuryuu runts couldn't afford them, didn't have the sufficient Faetality to use them, or the Fae Serums were not being shown in the system notifications for some reason. Miles was fairly confident that the real reason was a combination of the former two.
But what truly intrigued him was the implication of the information presented here.
‘A System that originated from a Vampire and/or Werewolf, presumably Fae, is somehow capable of perfectly analyzing human made Cyberware, down to the manufacturer and version?! Even Cybernetics from 20 years ago? When it’s nat-tech? How?!’
Well, there were a few possible answers.
Perhaps this ‘system’ had access to a comprehensive database of information on humanity’s technological history. Not an unfounded hypothesis, considering that in the era preceding Fae Serums, the many fairies that had first appeared had managed to tamper with the almost all of the nuclear warheads, leaving only uselessly large pieces of metal, or in the worst of such cases, had them explode on the spot.
Or perhaps the system had gleaned the data from his own mind, but even Miles with all his experience and knowledge couldn’t perfectly identify the versions of 20-year-old Cyberware.
‘It's still possible, if a lot more people than I’m expecting have access to a similar system?’
Or… maybe the system was simply omniscient.
Running a hand through his hair, Miles sighed.
None of the conclusions were particularly good news, but it wasn’t like he had not expected some catches with easy power. Most importantly, it’s not like he could do anything about it.
‘So, right, leave it for the future.’
Immediately, as if it had been waiting for him to arrive at such a conclusion, the wall of notifications extended.