The majority of you follow the philosophy of strict physical attribute enhancement, and who can blame you? They are the easiest to use, and give the most obvious, visible gains. Overall, it's a decent way to go about perfecting your build.
But hear me out. If you're smart, you'll also focus on Intelligence and Wisdom.
I know, most of you don't like the mental stats, but what most of you also forget is that, without the brains to handle it, you'll never have proper control over yourself and your powers, let alone develop and enhance whatever piss poor ability you are able to get!
Even if you fail at ability training, don't forget the importance of quick and clever thinking in combat scenarios! It might just save your life, when a thicker skull won't!
So, whatever you do, remember that it's important to strike a balance.
...Huh, what? Influence?
Jeffrey, are you having a stroke? Fuck that. Only rich corpos and brain-dead morons can afford or want a barely notable boost to 'charisma'.
It's the dumbest attribute in existence, and very probably a fucking FaeTech scam. You can't even measure it properly. So seriously, what's the point?
No, Jeffrey, no!
Even a 100-point influence will not be enough for Hanna to take a second look at your sorry ass. See, she agrees with me.
Look here people, if you want charisma, get it through power! Through result and achievement!
I guarantee you'll get the effects of 1000 points in influence with just 100 in Strength and Agility, because you'll be actually useful, and admirable. Understood?
Good, and Jeffrey?
Get out of my class!
–An excerpt of a recorded session by Veteran Mercenary Mark Mountain, "On Optimizing your Fae Serum Build," instructed to Graduate Class of '09, Capital Community Mercenary College.
***
Miles clenched his jaw, suppressing the urge to unleash the primal scream clawing its way up his throat, as a chilling agony rippled through his bloodstream, an all too familiar torment dredged up from the depths of his most harrowing nightmares.
Body and flesh erupted in a searing conflagration, left side marred by blistering skin, veins contorting with the darkening of malevolent corruption, the right glowing with an ethereal white, veins coursing with divine light.
Nausea churned within him as his body convulsed, a tempest of fire and ice raging within. Frantic shouts echoed in the distance, muffled and indistinct amidst the deafening pulse of his pounding skull.
Struggling to maintain consciousness, Miles focused on his breathing, delving into the recesses of his mind world in the hopes of escaping the pain. It helped, though not by much.
Once more the nightmarish agony returned, a haunting echo of a past torment, of being consumed, poisoning the very essence within him.
Miles grit his teeth, finally aware of what this was. It was identical to the experience he had endured back in the Lykaon mansion, that fateful moment when he had been bitten by two monsters at the same time.
Even without the system notification making it abundantly clear, he was on the precipice of death once more, and this time, with no ghostly savior–
He had barely finished the thought when a familiar warm presence enveloped him, almost akin to the ethereal energy he had felt from the ghost woman, yet markedly distinct.
The pain ebbed, replaced by a sense of purification and… Miles keeled over, expelling a dark, viscous mass from his mouth.
The grotesque ichorous substance splattered onto the floor, writhing and bubbling like a living entity. He could almost swear it was inching toward him with intent.
Miles ignored his delirium, focusing on his meditation and the healing energy that emanated from behind.
Slowly but steadily, clarity returned to his senses, dispelling the haze of pain and disorientation that had clouded his mind. Miles found himself on his knees, fallen somewhere along the way, his gaze fixated upon the wooden floor beneath him, planks ripped apart, engraved with glowing lines.
Familiar hands remained upon his back, their warmth seeping into his very core, nourishing and sustaining him. Though the figure was behind him, and he could make himself turn around to observe, Miles realized he had been mistaken. This was no ghost, but old Zhan, acting as his lifeline against the clutch of death.
Zhan Shen seemed frantic, speaking so fast that his affected mind could not comprehend all of it at once. Most of it seemed to be complaints, reproach for his stubbornness in following a doomed path, but Miles didn’t mind.
Even while in muted agony, a sense of tranquility washed over him, anchored by the healing presence and old Zhan’s familiar voice.
Abruptly, disrupting his peace, a familiar figure rose from the side of the clinic, a mop of straw hair flashing. “I-Is he alright Haruka-san? What was that ability? That dark smoke–Is that why he looks sick?” James stammered. Another familiar figure, clad in leather overall now stained in blood and debris dust, was to his side.
Haruka, the faesycian, remained silent in the face of this question, for her widened eyes were fixed upon Miles with unwavering intensity.
Her voice seemed to tremble, “You… you’re him. The fallen heir of the Lykaon… Miles Lykaon?”
‘What is she talking about? She couldn't possibly identify me–’
Only then did he realize that somehow, amidst the chaos, the Amathaka enchantment concealing his visage had fallen, revealing his true identity.
The Lykaon ring trembled upon his finger, agreeing with his conclusion, but as if it too had noticed just now. Miles could only assume the presence of the Beast had affected Cadmus in some way.
Well, shit.
Miles felt Zhan Shen’s hands tense upon his back, as he too realized the situation. Neither of them had the identity distortion enchantment.
He wondered what the elderly butler would decide to do. Would he silence them as witnesses to safeguard their identity?
It made sense, but what a shame that would be. He saw so much potential here.
Alternatively, less violent solutions such as fae oaths were possible, but from what he knew, outer citizens were often non-receptive to what would essentially be magical NDAs, enforced by reality itself.
A sudden notification caught him off guard, disrupting his thoughts and drawing his attention.
Ding!
[Title: Discredited Heir of Lykaon Industries activated.
In accordance with the agreement FL-VV-5019, enforced under the World Court, the title’s effects are made partial.
(Partial) Effect - Temporary: +500 to Influence.]
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
Miles furrowed his brow, perplexed by the notification.
It appeared that this title had been operating without the promised boost to Influence so far. That seemed to explain the strange presence of parenthesis, (+1000), in the system status Influence attribute, perhaps?
For some reason it had become activated now, but mostly, Miles was unsure of what he was supposed to do with this sudden and massive boost to his charisma.
But why did it mention that accursed agreement?
Miles licked his lips, feeling dry and cracked, as his mind raced with more questions than answers.
But ultimately, this title didn’t really matter, for he had greater worries. Zhan Shen’s efforts were the only reason he wasn't debilitated and writhing on the floor, but that was merely a temporary reprieve… He needed to find a solution…
‘Oh? This is interesting.’
Miles found his scattered mind easily distracted, his worries forgotten, as he surveyed the world around him. His senses seemed to have expanded, washing over the clinic around him in newfound awareness. Everything appeared to be distorted and surreal, veiled, as if he had stumbled over a hidden truth that lay hidden just beyond the surface.
To these senses, even his own body seemed wrong, unbalanced, as if something pivotal to his existence was no longer there, throwing his entire being into disarray.
‘How peculiar.’
He was examining the sudden change to his perception, when… suddenly, over by where the faesycian was, another familiar figure, muscles bulging with a white cloaked figure upon on her back, rose from the floor and rushed to the side. It seemed a desperate attempt to flee the clinic, one that was bound to fail.
As expected, Zhan Shen acted with swift precision, unleashing a burst of wind that tore through what remained of the sealing floorboards and halted their retreat. Inani cursed, stepping back in a hurry, “F*ck! Let us go! Ryo-san isn’t well! He needs treatment!”
Unfazed by the protest, Miles glanced at the gangster upon her back.
Hayato Ryota seemed fine. He would live, Miles was sure.
Well, he would probably be permanently disabled, as the spine seemed to have been shattered, leaving the man unable to handle any form of cybernetic implant from here on out.
Some might consider that a death sentence in and of itself, but what did that matter? Since they wanted treatment that wasn’t possible for a ripper-doc, there was no way they could afford it either.
‘Oh, I did pay a bit too generously, didn’t I? So maybe they could?’
Well, none of that mattered, for their departure would lead to problems for himself.
Blinking absentmindedly, Miles found himself speaking, “Old Zhan, make sure they don’t take one step out of the clinic.”
Zhan Shen hesitated momentarily before responding, his tone firm and resolute, “Master Miles, rest. Leave this to me, none of them will leave, not while they still breathe.”
Haruka stepped forth tentatively, her usual composure wavering, “We only wish to leave in peace, we will cause no problems. Why not allow it, Master Lykaon?”
Miles was no longer paying attention to her, and it was Zhan Shen that addressed the question in his stead, “You seem to know very well why it cannot be so. The moment you learned the young master’s identity, you became unfortunate variables.”
Haruka accepted the answer, as if she had expected it in the first place, but James had a harder time. Seeing no hope in the elderly butler, he tried to speak to Miles, “Y-You’re not just some Corpo, but a scion? W-Why won’t you let us leave? You saved my life! Why?” a pained, confused expression crossing his face.
That caught Miles’ attention, but he didn’t react to what was said. He was more interested in the air around the young man, flickering, almost burning.
Inani, who had been listening in, seemed to have grasped the gravity of the situation with a gradually worsening scowl. In a sudden instant, she acted, perhaps hoping to take them off guard, but she did so by screaming like a banshee and rushing forwards.
Even her movement was sluggish, burdened by the weight of the injured gangster.
With a flick of his fingers, Zhan Shen launched a well-aimed blast of wind, swiftly incapacitating her, dropping both her and the gangster onto the floor, unconscious.
James’ scream pierced the air, running forwards in a desperate attempt to help his friend, but found himself restrained by Haruka’s firm grip. The faesycian was wiser, having noticed that old Zhan was more than prepared to attack a second time.
The elderly butler hissed in anger, “Behave” even as his hand returned to Miles’ back, the warm flow of energy resuming its soothing course, alleviating the mind-numbing pain.
James appeared aghast, but in a sudden flash of determined anger, he pulled out a peculiar object in a bold display of defiance. It was a metallic sphere, its surface adorned with spike-like protrusions, emitting a soft brown glow. His thumb was already upon the trigger, the device activated. Miles could sense a scent of smoldering fire and molten earth wafting from its core, followed by the sharp scent of… ozone.
The straw haired young man screamed in a bold display of defiance, “H-Hand’s up! Or I’ll shoot!”
Miles couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the futile attempt. All of them knew from his previous showing, that even if James held a firearm, it was meaningless against old Zhan. Not to mention the fact that this device wasn’t a gun at all.
Miles squinted, and upon closer inspection, he couldn’t help but be surprised. He couldn’t mistake the familiar engravings upon the metal, that was… very probably, a dwarven grenade, an infamous fae type explosive, easily capable of taking an Epsilon down.
Most definitely not a gun.
James quickly realized his blunder, words tumbling out to rectify himself, “W--Wait, no! I didn’t mean that! I meant, hands up or I’ll blow you up!”
But it just wasn’t the same.
“Ahhh! Can I start over please?”
Quite disproportionate to his usual self, illogical with the gravity of his current situation, and even in the face of death, Miles actually found himself chuckling at the absurdity before him.
***
While Miles was amused, Zhan Shen was seething in barely contained fury, his presence radiating waves of rage that seemed to thicken the very air around him.
The elderly butler believed his reaction was reasonable, for young master Miles was on his knees, injured and delirious, his mind collapsing, his aatma fading. Zhan Shen could only imagine the agony his young master was undergoing right now, barely hanging on to life by the force of his stream.
Yet, amidst all that, these plebeians were screeching nonsense. The fact that they dared to try and threaten them… was the last straw he would allow.
But contrary to his expectations, Miles, at this point, was wholly detached from the excruciating pain his body was under, his mind numbed to the point that his senses seemed dulled or fallen asleep.
He felt none of it, and he cared little about the ongoing conflict.
Instead, his focus drifted elsewhere, drawn to the subtle nuances of the environment around him. The air, or rather the world, itself had captured his interest. There were the usual currents and eddies, but there were also illogical contusions, confluxes of unnatural nature, all throughout the clinic.
The floor, sealing wood engraved with glowing sigils, seemed to provide some stability to all this confusion, but wherever there were fractures in the wood, it remained distorted.
Miles couldn’t help but be entranced by the mesmerizing view, it was akin to watching a mesmerizing performance as a child, each twist and turn captivating his mind.
He was fairly sure this wasn’t air… for the movement wasn’t caused by wind, He felt none of its familiar motions, heard none of the helpful whispers of Aeola’s winds.
‘Huh, who’s that? Why do I know that name?’
Miles wasn’t sure, and he really didn’t care.
In the midst of all this, he actually felt a real, yet faint breeze. It was an unnatural wind from a source that was not the clinic. It didn’t whisper any sense of danger though, merely blowing past him, carrying with it a scent of darkness, dampness and a feeling of home.
Meanwhile, his eyes caught a straw haired silhouette, waving a hand with a red blinking ball, threateningly.
Oh, he had forgotten about that.
Miles could feel the winds gathering nearby, old Zhan perhaps, preparing to attack. Not just attack… but to sever a head?
Well, whatever, Miles barely registered it, his attention transfixed by the enigmatic patterns swirling around him. Within the last few seconds, they had changed, more prominent now. Light itself seemed to bend around them, as if those contusions in the air were singularities, or… miniature doorways.
Another familiar yet surprised scream pierced the air, as it turned out that Zhan Shen had managed to enlist the help of the existence pinned to his chest, Cadmus, somehow weaving into that grenade and disabling it.
For a moment there, Miles thought that old Zhan had actually managed to make use of the AI, but it soon turned out that Cadmus had acted on its own volition. Still, it was a better alternative to what the old butler had been intending to do.
Miles felt a sudden pang in his gut, and the next thing he knew, his head was bent, throat burning as he hurled a torrent of darkened ichor onto the floor.
The ordeal lasted for several agonizing seconds, leaving him gasping for breath, blinking away tears.
Another scream, a different person, the faesycian perhaps.
“SOMA! HELP US! PLEASE! YOU OWE ME!”
Yet even in the midst of that and the state of his own body, Miles remained entranced by the unnatural yet intricate dance unfolding before him.
At least, until… his eyes fell upon one particular anomaly among the swirling energies. It was small, barely the size of a palm, but the fabric of reality seemed to twist and bend around it, as though a rift was being torn open in the air itself, revealing a glimpse of something beyond.
Everything changed at its sight, the world shifted, seeming to slip away around him, and the sigils upon the sealing wooden floor flickered in struggle against something.
Even Miles’ dormant heart stirred, beating with life rather than pain for once, and despite the haze over his mind and body, a fleeting sense of vitality enveloped him.
The rift opened, like a metaphorical doorway, and out came a figure of otherworldly grace, a slender form adorned with delicate, translucent glass like diamonds fluttering upon their back.
Though Miles heard some urgent shout from Zhan Shen echoing in the background, he found himself drawn to the sight of the familiar fae.
He could see it far more clearly now, and he had been right. This creature was no pixie, nor was it a fairy of any of the known clans.
Their eyes met once more, the familiar bestial yellow instantly locking with his own in a silent exchange.
A Debt yet unpaid, a helping hand, and… the First Trial.
The creature beamed at the sight of him, thin lips curling to reveal unusually sharp fangs.
Almost guided by something, Miles took a single step to the side. He didn't get to see or do much further, for the very world collapsed around him, and... everything went dark.