Episode 1, Act 2 - Point After

I'm not sure what I expected, lying on the gravel of that convenience store rooftop. After that experience, well, it was a shock to my system. When you discover you're secretly magic, aren't you supposed to feel good about yourself? That you're now a head above the rest, the cream of the crop. All I felt was a dull ache throbbing in my chest. My heart burned, and I was coughing out plumes of thick, black smoke.

"Interesting. Human biology adapts to conceptual magic like that?" At some point, the toaster had pulled out another scroll of paper to take notes on. She was taking notes. I wanted to yell, wanted to scream at her... but only smoke escaped my lips, and no sound. "Well, this is valuable data. I wonder what else you can give me?"

I reached out for her, maybe hoping I could strangle her, fling her off the rooftop. I couldn't reach her cord. Instead, my hand extended, I saw through her eyes. I saw a human shape, underneath layers of grime and filth. She was panting, eyes half lidded and reaching out, weakly grasping the air.

I saw what she saw. I was a test subject. A toy to play with, to discard when she was done, a foundation upon which she would build a better future. A bucket of ice was dumped on my emotions, and I calmed down. I had a new goal. I no longer wanted her to die.

I wanted her to suffer.

I knew that the me of now could do nothing to the slime, the toaster. I couldn't even beat a toaster. No, not like this. I stood up, shakily at first. I could tell. I felt the slime's eyes drift across my body. Felt her wondering what I could do now that my first transformation was complete. Wondering if I would draw my powers forth.

I didn't give her an answer, not then. I just walked right over to the ladder on the roof and lifted it, high above my head. I could feel it. My strength was amplified. I was a twelve year old girl, holding a steel ladder aloft in the air with a single hand.

"You said I could kill the monster." More smoke escaped from my lips as I growled at the toaster. I was barely recognizable as human, so coated in filth and grime as I was. The only light of humanity still remaining were my shimmering golden eyes. "...tell me how."

=-⏱️-=

"Holy crab. You were so cooool! Even as a kid, you were already giving the Malice that signature Mad Dog look!" Olivia's eyes sparkled, silver diamonds reflecting the sunlight. Silver eyes; Olivia was a Historia, through and through. That's how you could tell what magic a Warrior was compatible with. The Proof of Divinity was in the eyes.

"And you've got golden eyes, so you're a Retcon!" Olivia added to my observation. "They're really beautiful, Madeline. I'm a little jealous." She gazed at me with such honesty. Urgh. I don't know how to respond to her. I keep telling her that I'm no hero, but every time I look through her eyes, I see something I'm not. I'm some deific being to her. A woman who can do no wrong.

I wanted to shake her so badly; to tell her that she's wrong, that she has no idea what I'm like. What I'm capable of. But I restrained myself. I continue my tale of pain, all told from the comfort of my living room.

=-⏱️-=

"We don't have much time to figure out what you're capable of." Malty toddled behind me. She'd managed to throw herself off the roof, and was following me like a slug as I moved inexorably towards my demise. I could hear metal scraping against the ground as she slopped and squirmed against the pavement. A toaster snail. Not something you see every day.

"We do know two things for sure. You're strong. Strong enough to hold that steel ladder on your shoulder, like a bat." Malty continued, eyeing my shoulder. I could see it too. No need to stare. "And you're durable. You fell from the rooftop without a scratch on you."

Not quite true. I felt a dull ache in my ankles. I don't think they were meant to twist that way on impact. My sneakers made wet squelches as I walked-- the grime had soaked thoroughly into the soles. Another gross thing to deal with after I thoroughly body this monster.

"We could open up your [Character Sheet]. Learn more information that way." Malty suggested, her slime running over a gum-soaked penny. The coin was the only thing left behind, I noted, watching the rubber dissolve in her basic jam.

I thought about the words-- [Character Sheet]. Plenty of screens opened up before me, detailing things I didn't need to know right now. I tapped on the first one-- it featured my name and a few other details.

I tried to parse the screen, detail by detail. Madeline Crisp? That was right. My name was Madeline, and my 'clan' was Crisp. Age 12, and human. So far, things are normal. Sexual Makeup? That's a weird way to say 'sex'. Female, yeah. That being said, the section on Preferred Gender confused me, to say the least.

Half girl? Was this screen trying to insult me? "What's a... Demi-Feminine?" My hoarse voice managed to choke the words out, clouded by smoke but audible to the toaster beside me.

"It means you don't mind being called by feminine or gender neutral pronouns. Very progressive; you probably don't give a sherpa about gender dynamics, kid. They're just an obstacle to you, to be smashed like any other." Malty put the discussion to the side for now. "Besides, don't you have bigger things to worry about? Check your 'Divinity' section next.

Right. Let's see. 'Retcon', followed by 'Another Perspective'. That sounds ominous. "Given the context of your forging? It'll make sense in hindsight, kid." Olivia, ignore what she's saying; why I have this skill doesn't make sense to this day.

"Retcons are nice and powerful. Awfully rare, too. Their domain primarily governs Control of the Narrative, but I have a feeling your messed-up mind took that interpretation in a unique direction. That's fine! We've still got a solid base to work from. A good head start," Malty mused.

My mind is not messed up. "Really, kid? Have you looked at your [Conditions] page yet? Give that baby a read and get back to me. Tell me how funked up your brain is, kid."

Fine. Maybe I will.

I fidget in silence as Malty leans against my thigh. "Yeah. That's about what I thought. Delusional, murderous, traumatized, haunted..." Malty rattled off different words she can spot. "Kid, you really need to see a therapist. After we kill this Bronx Buster fellow."

What was that random gargle of text? I nearly poked at it, but Malty wraps her cord around my finger. "I wouldn't worry about that, kid. What you see in there will only make you panic. Corrupted text should never be messed with, not if you can help it."

Olivia, this is important advice. Never, ever touch Corrupted text. At best, it comes from the System trying to warn you about some cognito-hazardous element of your [Character Sheet]. At worst, it means that you have a [Mangleweave] in your [Character Sheet]. Neither of these are good things.

I don't care how defiant you feel that morning, or how much you feel you've already fallen. I've touched corrupted text twice before and carry the scars to prove it. You can always feel worse. You can always fall harder.

Restraining myself from rash action, I managed to open my attributes page. It was a meaningless blob of words and numbers, so I looked at my friendly neighborhood toaster for a translation.

"Relax, kid. This page is pretty straightforward. Each one of those attributes represents how virtuous or sinful you are-- the aura of your intent. As a magical warrior, you can reshape that intent and apply its benefits to everyday tasks," Malty explained while tapping at my attributes window.

"Take your 'Diligence', for example. That's a mental boost you can apply to your physical strength, your movements, even your studying. Since you've got it at 6, that means you're about twice as competent as the 'average' human at those kinds of tasks, especially when applying your intent to the job. And since you've got more than 5, that makes you 'super-human' in those particular ways."

So I can apply mental magic to a variety of physical tasks. That doesn't sound so difficult to grasp. The tasks I'm good at are covered by Diligence, Wrath, Sacrifice, Temperance and Envy. Hey, Envy! Okay, I have high Envy. That... tracks, weirdly enough.

"It means you're good at sneaking about and shoving things into your pocket," Malty added, proceeding to open another window. "You're also fairly talented at hitting things, taking a hit and utilizing your divinity, based on everything else we can see here. We probably aren't sneaking around that Malice, so we'll have to lean into your other strengths. Brute force this."

Hit the Malice hard enough it forgets how to breathe.

"Precisely. Alright, kid! Have a look-see at your skills." Malty turned the screen around to face me as she poured through another window at my behest.

What the hell do you mean, [Closet Lesbian]?

...no. My dad would ground me, indefinitely.

Malty? I don't think this 'System'-thing should be allowed to act sarcastically. "You'll get used to it. NAS has a... sense of humor." Malty tapped a window I was currently ignoring. "Eyes on the prize, kid. Check your Core Talents page."

[Malt-Forged]? I sound like an ice-cream shake. "It means that you've accepted our contract. The Tempering has begun," Malty oozed herself into a puddle. "But that isn't what we're interested in. Try tapping '[Another Perspective]'; your unique skill should tell us much more about your power."

Now we were getting somewhere. It was magic; system-driven magic more suitable for a video game than the real world, but magic nonetheless. It was magic I'd used before. I recognized the feeling, having looked through the eyes of Malty earlier. That was my magic; to see from another perspective. I don't think she realized how much information I gleaned from that brief view into her psyche...

I understood how she felt about me on a level deeper than empathy. This wasn't about seeing through her eyes physically, although it was that. It wasn't about knowing what she was thinking. It was about knowing the emotional context of her world. How Malty saw everything.

This power... what else could it tap into? Could the entire city be seen from above? Looking up, and focusing on a bird in a nearby tree, I felt myself slipping away.

=-🐦-=

the wind feels cold today. it blows towards the northeast. you wouldn't know what the northeast is; that's a human concept. you aren't even sure what a human is. featherless apes... they move around in their metal beasts. the smoke makes you cough, makes your eyes water. the noise sets your feathers on end.

there are thousands of these beasts, all over. they outnumber you. they surround you, they'll chew you up while you're pecking breadcrumbs from the hot black stone... but the beasts are quiet today. are they sleeping? they all stopped moving. the featherless apes started running in another direction, even a metal beast chirped and howled, burning in flame.

you feel curious. you are a feathery beast, and there's nothing that could harm you, high up in the sky as you are. what are they fleeing from? you continue to flap, moving with the wind, glancing below to catch a peek of the large stone nests beneath you. what could cause the featherless apes to run so? you narrow your gaze.

there! you see it. another featherless beast. this beast is much bigger. it carries a stick, one with a big brown and red egg on the end of the stick. 

it drips with red, viscous liquid. blood. scary. fear. you're terrified, squawking and trying to fly away. you need to-- you need to run, run before it spots you, run before its eye fixes on you--

=-🐦-=

"He's northeast of here." My lips parted and spoke, more smoke escaping from my lungs. I could feel my body lurching. Shifting perspectives from such a simple mind to a complex one, a bird to a beast; my thoughts ran through a wringer, decompressing. I wondered why this wasn't an issue with the slime? Her monocellular nature should have caused my body to feel uneasy.

Maybe it was our compatibility with each other. Malty was my contractor. It would be strange if our mindsets were entirely incompatible. Maybe it was a product of my abilities blossoming? I might have been extra-powerful during my first use of the skill. I kept my eye on Malty as she gave me a look. "You seem pretty confident. Alright, let's go with it!" She started slugging to the northeast, towards Claremont Village. I followed right after, still holding the ladder.

"Whatever 'Another Perception' is, we need to make the most of it." Malty insisted. "The Malice is carrying a weapon. With your reinforced body, you should be able to handle a few hits, but don't make a habit of it. Your ladder should help you keep some distance from the Malice and strike at them. Are you following so far?"

I nodded, not willing to waste more breath than necessary. Each inhale and exhale scorched my lungs. My whole body was in the process of being refined. Purified. I was a lump of metal, and my blood was the blacksmith striking at my muscles; that's what [Malt-Forged] meant. The process of reinforcing was messier in those days. I said it before: you have it easy, Olivia.

=-⏱️-=

"Tempering is still painful, Madeline." Olivia puffed out her cheeks. "You have to go into the clinic three times a week as they pump mana into your body, THEN they stab you with these needles, and you ache terribly for a few hours after. We don't experience the Tempering all at once like you did, but we have to undergo a whole year of Tempering, over one hundred and fifty different office visits..."

I can't help but tune out her words and just listen to Olivia's voice. She's so engrossed in her own little world, she forgets I'm here. She's supposed to be in the middle of berating me, but I don't have the heart or energy to argue with her. So her little segue ends up turning into a ten-minute lecture on the nature of Tempering, the perspective of an academic who has only ever touched theory. Strange, given she's gone through a hundred and fifty Temperings.

I consider, briefly, letting her experience the unforgettable pain herself, then feel a smoldering, self-directed rage. How could I ever think of scarring her, letting Olivia go through the same suffering I went through? The classic Tempering. It's incomparable to the humane Tempering treatments of today. I would know.

I've experienced both.

=-⏱️-=

I let out a deep and heavy plume of black smoke. Damp and grimy prints left by the tread of my sneakers followed me down the alleyway. I passed by a mother, holding her child and cowering. I gave her a look, and I saw myself reflected in her eyes. The despondent gaze of someone looking at a monster. I turned my head, continued to walk. I don't have time for this. Don't have time to process these feelings.

All I have to do is move, and keep moving. I'm so close to ending all of this madness. I can put down this Malice, and then there won't be anything left to worry about. For the moment... for this moment. Things will be quiet.

I rounded the corner, still holding the ladder. I hadn't managed to lose Malty, either. She seemed to be keeping pace with me, even as she coated the ground in a trail of pink slime. We were on the hunt, together. I wasn't a pack animal before now. I couldn't imagine being around others. I was a bit of a loner, even on my best days. My golden eyes caused me to be isolated from others, scared away by the way they would shimmer. There were no friends to call my own. My father barely cared about me. My mother... couldn't. I had nothing to lose.

Nothing but my life.

I walked out into the open street, and my gaze fixed on the back of the Malice; the Bronx Beater was busying himself, trying to smash through a car. The glass was shattering inwards. Childish screams could be heard inside; there were already pulpy red stains in the driver's seat. That was enough.

I spurred into action.

My ladder went swinging. The Beater was flung backwards, slamming against a brick wall. I let my gaze shift to the car; there were still screams. Good. At least I had someone to protect, an audience. I pulled my ladder back as the Beater tried to pull himself out of the indented brick. The steel of the ladder was bent. I wonder how hard you have to swing the steel to cause it to bend? Of course, the Malice looked unharmed.

"DIVINITY." He growled, adjusting his helmet. I got a good look at him, then. His frame was musclebound, and his pectorals were wrapped in a leathery substance; red and white stretched across his grotesque, barrel-shaped chest. His broad shoulders were particularly overdeveloped, pauldrons of bone protruded from around the neck. Speaking of necks, his was a mountain all to itself, peaking in a helmet that seemed grafted and form-fit to his skull. The eyes, if you could call them that, were black voids with red irises. Yellow teeth jut outwards from within the fine wire, interlocking and opening only to let out a thick, gravelly voice.

"FALSE START, DIVINITY. REFEREE SAYS..." The Beater tightens his grip, and a moment later I'm sent flying down the street. I couldn't see it; the ball and chain moved much too fast for me to follow with my eyes. I bounced against the asphalt, holding tight to my ladder, feeling the sickening crunch of bones. I gasped, struggling to my feet, and his cleats crunched into the ground as he approached. "OFFSIDE PENALTY. THERE ARE RULES TO THE GAME WE PLAY."

How... How did he move so quickly? He was easily four times my size; the square cube law says he shouldn't be able to move that quickly. No... no, I'd dodged one of his strikes before, when he was chasing me earlier. What was different now?

"EXPOSED GAP. DELAYED BLITZ." He kneels down, his arm reaching far out behind him. The ball-flail bounces on the asphalt. No-- not kneeling, lunging. Delayed-- shit! I rolled to the side, clumsily but effectively dodging his charge. His flail came swinging between us, gouging out a significant portion of the road and flipping a stalled car behind me. I watched in horror as the two-tun hunk of plastic and steel soared through the air and crunched onto the ground.

"GOOD. SHE UNDERSTANDS OUR GAME." The Bronx Beater twisted his head to face me, the body following not long after. His teeth curled into a sinister grin, and he laughed at me. "WE PLAY FAIR. YOU? YOU CAN'T CHEAT ANY MORE." He points his flail at me now. I scrambled backwards, breathing carefully. More of the foul smoke escaped my lungs. I nod. I nod carefully, accepting his offer to play fair. There's just one thing that crossed my mind a bit too late to consider.

I didn't know the first thing about American Football.

Madeline's Character Sheet (Feb 12th 2012)

FernGilly

Second chapter of the week! I really want to thank everyone who viewed my first chapter this week, your support made me blaze through the next chapter and force my proofreaders to look over it. Ehehe. I'll try to stick to 2/week, as best I can! See you next week!

Update V2: Major update! Fixed a lot of grammar oversights, and added the character sheet; also fixed what direction Malty headed in (she originally headed in the wrong direction!). The character sheet was always intended to be a part of the chapters taking place in the past, but I wasn't sure how to present them. This is the issue with a non-chronological litRPG! That said, Episode 3 requires a much more thorough understanding of the System, so I've gone back and filled in those missing details. Sorry to all of you forced to reread!

If you like my work, check me out on Twitter! I'm only marginally more wild than the things I write!

Interested in learning more about the Neverlands? You can visit me and ask all the questions you like at my vtuber Discord! You can catch me on Twitch and Youtube. I'm not streaming at the moment, because I've been writing like crazy-- something like 100 pages in the last three weeks? It would make my day if you could follow me on Youtube, though. ;w; I'm still not at that fabled 100 subscriber mark...