Factory Reset (a Celestial Forge story)

[Hexilios]

Chapter 1 (Deactivation /Reconstruction /Reactivation)

---

"This sucks," I coughed out loud in pain.

It also didn't help that I was bleeding out in the middle of the road like a bloody sack of meat and bones. My back hurts like you couldn't believe it, and my legs are bent in ways that aren't meant to be bent. Also, I'm pretty sure that I suffered some heavy blow to my head because I can barely even remember how I got into this position in the first place.

I sigh with a bit more pain and effort; all I can remember is that I was going somewhere, something about meeting up with friends, trying to keep the last of my social connections from withering to a slow but steady death. I try to sigh again, but all that comes out of my throat are gurgling noises full of blood.

My mind is beginning to spin, and my breath is getting more laborious. Well, it is official, I am slowly but surely dying. There is nothing that I can do about that. It is happening whether I like it or not. At least when I'm dead, I won't have to go through this awful pain a second time.

I wonder what is waiting for me on the other side. Will it be eternal darkness? like most pessimistic atheists believe, or will there be some kind of afterlife waiting for me? I guess I will get to verify it with my very own eyes soon enough. I can already feel my hold on my life slipping away. Thinking is becoming harder, and harder, lights are flickering in my eyes, and fragments of my memories are being replayed, reviewed, and cataloged. My mind is spinning harder than ever before, and my breathing is becoming shallower and shallower. I can't focus on anything anymore. My thoughts are unraveling before me.

I think…I thi…i…

Everything is repeating itself as if time has lost all its sway over me. I can taste colors on my tongue, and I can hear the sound of images in my ears.

Rainbow prisms everywhere.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to no one in tired resignation. "goodbye," I manage to wheeze out with the last of my breath while looking at the hole in space-time that has opened up above my broken body. A multicolored array of the cosmos shined beyond the portal, and I saw all kinds of arcane symbols, numbers, and equations floating toward me as if in anticipation of my passing. And after that dizzying display of mathematical cosmic madness.

I died.

And the portal closed itself upon my death. leaving only a broken, empty husk behind.

---

( Autonomous Multidimensional Reincarnation Engine status: "ONLINE" )

( verify identification )

[ID]

[S/N 140,907,076,980,320,101,999] [Reality Cluster: 154.156.151.666] [Dimensional Cluster: 14695442a] [Worldline: 2.547825]

( identification confirmed )
( all systems nominal )
( proceed primary function )

( scanning for Candidates )

(... … … … °)

( scanning complete )

( lifeform data package complete )
( local physics package complete )

( Mind Imprint collected )
( Soul Engram collected )

( Soul damage detected )
( calculating damage )
( soul missing 9.500100% of total complete mass )

( calculating )

( conclusion reached )
( Soul Engram incompatible with Mind Imprint )

[SOLUTION]

( recalibrating Mind Imprint )
( pruning Mind Imprint )
( reinforcing Soul Engram )
( adding Prim̸o̵rd̵ia̶l̴ ̴Sou̶l̴ Shard to Soul Engram ) ( Soul integrity: 100% )

( calculating )

( process complete )
( no further incompatibilities detected )

[PROCEED]

( scanning for multi-dimensional frontiers )
( dimensional cluster detected )
( dimensional cluster inaccessible )
( dimensional lock detected )

( scanning for origins of interference )

( PaReSites/Shards Detected )

( stealth suite activated )
( Parasites inferior encryption broken )

( Shard emulation activated )
( forging local Shard identification )
(local Shard Designation: [ARCANE BLACKSMITH])

( dimensional lock bypassed )
( dimensional breach remains undetected )

( calculating location for [HOST/CANDIDATE] insertion )

( calculations complete )

[QUERY: PERMISSION/INSERTION]

Click to shrink...

Out into the blind eternities, where time has no meaning, a cosmic giant of infinite starlight turns one of its many heads slightly, giving but a minuscule amount of its finite, infinite [Paradoxical] attention.

It replies to the ancient dimensional constructs' query with but a single concept. A concept so dense with Data, that it has the power output of multiple suns going supernova behind it.

╠ GRANTED/P̶R̸O̵C̴E̷E̵D̴ ̵̴̱͇́͘͝ ╣​

---

Infinite numerals, equations, and cosmic colors flash through my mind. I was in a trance-like state for what felt like ages. As of this moment, this is all I knew, all I will ever see, and all I will ever be.

And then with no buildup nor foreshadowing a small "pop!" sound reached my ears as if a balloon suddenly burst open where I stood. I warily and slowly began to open my eyes and was greeted with the sight of a back alley street, covered in all kinds of trash and junk. I just stood there dumbly, blinking my eyes rapidly in incomprehension for a couple of short seconds. And then suddenly, I felt my stomach clench down, and I bent over the waist and puked my guts out. rainbow-colored fluids began to flow all over the paved ground below me, forming a small puddle of the stuff near my feet.

Only after a bit of dry heaving and coughing did I manage to gain my bearings again. I set my back straight and avoided stepping into the rainbow-colored puddle, while I wobbled my way past it to reach the somewhat free clearing near the brick wall. I began to slowly set myself down with my back straight against the wall, not caring for the dirty trash that surrounded me. At the moment, that was it. I just sat there with my eyes closed again, savoring every deep breath of air that I could get within my lungs.

And then, without any forewarning, the mother of all migraines hit my brain with a sledgehammer.

Now normally, a small migraine isn't that much of a problem for me, yes it sucks, and yes, it hurts, but I have grown used to it over the years, so long as I took my medication on time and kept it from getting worse, I could bite my teeth and take a nap and wait it out. This was not one of those migraines. no, it was not even one of the heavier migraines I regularly suffered from. This was a thousand times worse. It felt like I fell face-first on an anti-tank mine, and it exploded on my face. My surroundings felt too bright, as if I was staring directly into the sun with both eyes wide open. Everything was too loud, as if someone shot a heavy caliber gun right next to my ears continuously without stopping.

A decent amount of blood began to flow out of my nose, eyes, and ears. I began to curl up on the ground twitching and spasming, it was like I was having a stroke while possessed and whatever possessed me was also having a stroke at the same time. I don't know how long I had been left twitching on the pavement ground like this.

For a while, all I knew was pain, as if my body was not made to inhabit this plane of existence. Minutes could have passed me by, or it could have been hours, I do not know, but eventually, the pain began to slowly recede away. My brain was no longer in the constant agony that I had just experienced moments ago. Oh, it was still goddam bad alright, I can still feel an echo of the constant throbbing within my mind. but it is manageable now. After a while, things stabilized enough for me to sit up straight with my back lying flat against the brick wall behind me. I can finally begin gathering my thoughts in quiet peace.

[Primordial̴Soul̴Shard Activated]
[Arcane Blacksmith Online]

I flinched back and hit the back of my head against the wall hard.

"Jesus Christ!" I exclaimed loudly, holding the back of my head tightly in pain.

I can now feel a different kind of headache coming up.

My mind is spinning again for a completely different reason. I can feel constellations of all sizes all around me in a more metaphysical sense, I feel a sort of energy charge build up within my soul and then shoot out into the star-filled sky. It is getting closer and closer to its target, but alas, there is not enough fuel to fully reach it. Then, the energy returns to my soul like an outstretched rubber band snapping back in place. All of that happened in but a span of a few nanoseconds. It took me a few moments to relatively calm down, and feel a bulge form at the back of my head

"Ouch," I hissed out slightly when rubbing the afflicted area.

I closed my eyes, took a deep and careful breath, and slowly exhaled.

"Alright, that was unexpected," I muttered to myself.

I don't know what that was, and I dearly hope that feeling wasn't a prelude to something bad happening within my brain. I took another deep breath to make sure I was calm enough to think things rationally through. I opened my eyes again and looked around myself. I was still in a dirty trash-filled alleyway, just with the added puddle of glowing rainbow vomit. I felt some dampness around my neck and looked down at the shirt I was currently wearing. There was an excessive amount of blood around the collar and chest area of the white shirt I was wearing. Blood that is still leaking from my nose, eyes, and ears. I took my shirt off, looked at it, and decided to use it as a towel to wipe my face clean.

I sighed again as my shoulders dropped down slightly. This truly was one of the worst days I had the misfortune of ever experiencing. Now that I am currently not dead or dying or having a soul seizure or something comparable to it. I can finally start to process everything that has recently happened to me and figure out what I am going to do from now on.

Alright, let's lay down the facts that I know for sure happened. One, I am pretty sure that I'm supposed to be super dead right now. Two, after a short eternity of Math Hell, I just popped back into existence as if nothing had happened. I don't seem to have any of my previous injuries carried over from that truck/car? hitting me, no broken spine, no broken legs, no leaking skull, no pain from the crash. And lastly, Three, after I popped back into existence, I began to vomit RGB rainbows all over the place, and after that, I suffered a Soul seizure so severe that my actual real death felt less painful.

But am I one hundred percent sure that I had truly died? I thought back to the moment everything went dark and flinched. I shivered slightly, nope…I most assuredly died there. Now that I am back in the world of the living again I have this weird feeling crawling under my skin like I am not supposed to be here, like the world is telling me to go back.

After I shook off that piece of existential terror that I just felt, I looked at the shirt in my hand and then down at the pants I was currently wearing. At least whatever brought me back had the decency to give me a set of new white clothes, or they were white, now it is covered in blood and grime, I looked at my feet and frowned.

"It gave me clothes but no shoes," I quietly murmured to myself while staring at my wiggling toes.

People won't see a 20-ish-year-old guy in pure white clothes. No, all they will see now is a barefooted hobo covered in blood stains. I hope I won't get arrested the moment I show myself in public. I sigh again loudly this time, I won't get anywhere by just sitting around, and doing nothing but contemplating about how everything sucks at the moment. What I currently need is information about…well, everything. I will probably need to harass a random individual and ask them some questions in person. I can temporarily put aside my social awkwardness and anxiety for the sake of my continued survival…probably.

I put my shirt back on and stood up on both of my feet. I began to walk away while carefully stepping around the rainbow puddle. After a few well-placed steps, I managed to make it towards the exit of the alley and stepped a foot onto the street proper. Turning my head left and right and seeing nobody around I decided to just walk in a random direction on the sidewalks while looking at the environment around me, trying to see if I recognized anything.

The industrial buildings looked abandoned and dilapidated. Most of the glass windows were broken and boarded up. The road was full of cracks and holes, and some of the potholes were just filled up with gravel. Based on the environment around me, I came to a single conclusion.

"This place looks like shit," I stated loudly

You could mistake this place for an abandoned city that's in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, the only reason I am reasonably sure there is still a civilization around, somewhere, is that I can hear some police sirens blaring out into the distance and sometimes they were accompanied by multiple pops of gunfire. I made sure to walk in the opposite direction, where I could hear the gunfight playing out. and then I almost tripped on my own two feet as I almost faceplanted the ground, I began to feel my head throbbing again. energy began to build up within my soul and shot off into the constellation-filled sky again, but unlike last time it had enough fuel saved up to reach a smaller star, and it grabbed it with barely contained enthusiasm.

[connection established]

(downloading data package) (Beniemiya (Fate/Legends Japan Land of the Rising Sun) (installing native physics to local reality cluster) (proceed to install noninvasive [DATA] to [HOST/CANDIDATE])

Information began to flood my mind in several smaller doses. I also began to feel something being adjusted within me on a more metaphysical level. Power began to flood my veins, and then, when no more information was coming in, everything stopped.

(installation complete)

I stood stock still, not moving an inch, as I tried to process what had just happened and parse through the information that had flooded my brain just moments before.

I can cook... I am a great cook now… I am a magical chef…

Let's summarize what this means for me. As of this moment, I have the potential to become the greatest magical chef in the world. Not only can I learn to cook new recipes at peak human skill from any nationality be it Eastern dishes or European, but if there is a recipe for it, I can cook it, and I can even improvise my own dishes and make a feast worthy of the gods. But the most important thing about this power is the ability to empower my food. I am capable of imbuing any consumable I make with my own two hands with some minor supernatural effects. I can make food that increases the healing process by a marginal amount. I can make food that increases my speed or enhances my strength and resilience slightly. It is not the most powerful thing in the world, but this confirms to me what those headaches I keep getting were.

I have superpowers now…

I just stood there for a while, thinking and trying to sift through my mixed emotions upon learning this. I know I got reincarnated; that much was obvious upon arrival. You can't just shake a death off as if nothing happened. Such a thing leaves a mark on you no matter what, be it psychological or spiritual. Mankind was not meant to return by death.

I assume the reason I haven't had a small breakdown yet is probably a combination of too many things happening at once and not having had enough time to process my death properly. But it is not my death that completely unsettles me currently. It's the realization that nothing about this situation was natural.

Before this new power, I could easily shrug off my return from death as some cosmic fluke. But with this power, it is all but confirmed now that this entire situation was intelligently designed. Something brought me back from the dead, that something gave me powers, and that something is connected to my very being and soul, I can slightly feel a certain discomfort within me, as if a piece of my soul doesn't belong there.

When my soul managed to grab that power, it connected itself for but a few small moments to something utterly alien, something out of this world. For but a few nanoseconds, I had its full undivided attention, and it was excited. This will do wonders for my already high levels of paranoia. I am not enthused to have my soul connected to some eldritch unknowable thing. I know enough about H.P. Lovecraft's works to know that never ends well, I let out a long shaky breath, this entire situation is giving me the chills.

"Focus, u can have an existential crisis later," I admonished myself.

What I require right now Is information, without that I can't make any informed decision on what to do next. I kept on walking on the sidewalk while deep in thought and I turned around a corner of the next intersection and paused slightly when my eyes landed on a person. And where better to get that information than from that lean older guy holding a half-empty whiskey bottle in his hands while brooding on the sidewalk?

He didn't seem to notice me as I began to approach him from his left side. With the evening sun shining behind me, my shadow began to slowly stretch over him. I got close enough so that he could hear me speak but far enough away to be out of arms reach just in case he had a knife on him.

Now for the hardest part, getting his attention and starting a conversation. I can already feel my social anxiety increasing. A few short minutes passed while I was building up the courage to start talking. But then the guy suddenly seemed to notice me before I got the chance. He lifted his head and then tried to make eye contact, and I suddenly started looking at his forehead.

A little trick that a counselor taught me was to make sure that I didn't weird people out by talking to them without making eye contact. I personally couldn't see the problem with that, but it is considered impolite not to do so. We stared at each other for a few short awkward moments. My social anxiety was increasing slightly again, so I better pull off the bandaid now and be done with it. Then I could be on my way and prepare for the future.

---

JAMES'S POV


He got fired from his job today, and for what? Just because he likes to take a few peeks at some of his hot colleagues. He made them "uncomfortable," they called him a creep.

It wasn't his fault that they were wearing such revealing outfits. They were displaying themselves for the world to see. And then that bitch who had the gall to report him to his boss. all because he got a bit too hands-on in his appreciation of the female form.

He continued to half-drunkenly grumble to himself while taking the occasional sip from his near-empty bottle of whiskey. It took but a few moments for him to notice the shadow that crossed over him from his left side. curious of its origins he looked up and became paralyzed with uncertainty.

It was a younger man of slightly above-average height. He looked to be somewhere in his early twenties, but that wasn't what was making him so uncomfortable at that moment, it was the unnaturally colored light grey eyes of his. James at first thought they were some kind of contact lenses, but the longer they kept staring at each other, the more details he could pick up on from the young man before him.

The boy's silver hair was a chaotic mess growing every which way but down. His clothes were an almost unnatural shade of white if not for the dark red blotches and black grime covering his shirt and pants. It took him but a couple of moments to recognize that the dark red blotches on his shirt were bloodstains. he took a quick glance at the ground and noticed the boy standing around without any shoes on as well.

He lifted his head and continued making eye contact. Upon getting a closer look, he could make out that the boy's eyes were bloodshot red, as if he hadn't slept in days. When he was done taking in all the minute details, he looked at the boy's face in total. The boy showed a completely neutral expression, as if everything bored him. The boy just kept staring through him with his unnatural-colored eyes that occasionally glazed over. It was as if he was looking inside his soul instead of him.

Click to shrink...

James was born and raised in Brockton Bay, and like any true Brocktonite, he recognized danger when he saw it. Only three types of people had the same deranged look as the boy currently before him.

A druggie who took too many candies and decided to go on a stabbing spree to get more cash to buy more drugs. A lunatic who decided to go stabbing for the fun of it. No drugs needed.
Or the worst-case scenario, a new cape.

If it were the first two you at least had a chance to fight back and run away. but if it were a cape then all you can do is start praying before those crazies conjure up a laser beam out of thin air and blast you with it. it doesn't even matter if it is a villain or a "hero" Both sides never pull their punches for normals like him.

Nothing good ever comes from capes.

He is going to be extra cautious with this one and assume he is all of the above. He's going to bail the moment he gets the chance.

It was at this moment that the boy started opening his mouth

"Greetings," the young man rasped out without any inflections in his surprisingly deep voice, which also had a slight accent to it that James couldn't place its origin from.

greetings? he took but a moment to process the strange greeting he received.

"Evening" he replied in a polite tone with a slight nod, not wanting to anger the possibly unhinged cape who was currently covered in bloodstains.

"I am glad that I managed to find you this quickly," the boy said without any inflection. his voice now much clearer than before.

James's heart skipped a small beat as he heard the answer, and a cold sweat started slowly building up on his forehead. Why would this guy want to find him? He had never seen this man before in his life.

The younger man before him seemed to be pondering about something. James began to think of how he was going to get out of this situation and chose to stall for time by giving a quick reply.

"I'm sorry, but do I know– "I was wondering–"

Both of them accidentally interrupted each other at the same time.

Everything began to still for James, the young man for the first time since this confrontation started made true eye contact with James, no longer looking straight through him anymore. James wished the younger man kept looking through him instead of at him. Because the guy was giving James this thousand-yard stare with a half-lidded gaze. True sweat started building up on James's forehead, and alarm bells started ringing in his head, even if this man wasn't a cape, nothing about this situation was normal in any way.

James flinched back when the man made a groaning sound and covered his face with the palm of his hand.

"That was a dud," he heard the man quietly whisper to himself in relief and disappointment?

James decided not to respond to that strange little comment. The young man shook his head a bit and looked straight through James again and not at him. He felt slightly relieved about that, that death stare was just unsettling to experience.

Another few awkward seconds passed by with nothing happening until the young man began to speak again.

"I was wondering if you could help me with something, " asked the young man.

James wanted to instantly refuse him, but then took another look at the man's bloodstained shirt and wisely kept that to himself.

"What can I help you with, sir?" replied James, slightly uncertain with the most respectful tone he could muster. He only ever spoke like this to his father when he was a kid to avoid a beating.

The young man tilted his head slightly as if he was confused, did he say something wrong? Was he not respectful enough? capes like their theater, right? maybe he should give him a little bow as a show of compliance and respect? He'd do anything to get out of here alive. The young man seemed to ignore the growing panic that started showing on his face.

"I wanted to ask you some questions and perhaps ask for some directions, too," the man before him said.

"I hope it's not too much of an imposition. I will try not to take too much of your time," said the man, who then slowly parted his lips and showed off his teeth with the most unsettling fake smile he had ever seen, a smile that never seemed to reach the man's lifeless grey eyes.

"n-no s-sir, n-no problem, ask me anything you want, and I will answer truthfully!" bellowed James loudly, full of terrified sincerity.

---

I walked away from the scrambling half-drunk man after getting all of my questions answered. I rechecked what I knew of my world and compared it to this one. I am now absolutely certain that I am no longer on my version of Earth.

My world didn't have a superpower boom after the eighties. We didn't have superheroes or villains that are referred to as capes playing games of cops and robbers and We certainly didn't have walking natural disasters in the form of giant monsters called EndBringers. The only reason I even somewhat believed the man was because of my own extraordinary circumstances. still, I will double-check that information once I get a hold of a computer and access to the internet just to be sure.

"Brockton Bay" I mumbled the name out loud to myself. A vague feeling of Deja Vu comes to me from the city's name.

Not only am I in a completely different world but I am also in a completely different time as well. Bye 2024 Belgium and hello 2009 Brockton Bay. I continue walking toward the location of the supposed homeless shelter I was given while pondering the implications of my situation.

---

I think I have found the place I was looking for.

When I pictured a homeless shelter I imagined something completely different than what was before me.
An entire section of the trainyard has been converted to some homeless gathering space. Tents and cardboard structures littered around the rusted train cars from the former trainyard of this city.

As I got closer to the place, I noticed that I was gathering quite some attention to myself. People were giving me some strange looks, and when I paid them any attention, they quickly looked away from my gaze. This amount of attention is making me a bit uncomfortable, to be honest.
I probably would have turned around and left if I hadn't noticed the group of men holding pipes and metal scrap as makeshift melee weapons in front of me. A single older man with a wrench in hand stepped forward from the group.

"What business do you have here, stranger?" the older man spoke out loud with a no-nonsense tone in his voice.

I hesitated for a bit. This was not what I imagined of a homeless shelter, if this even was one in the first place.

"apologies if I seem to be intruding, but I was led to believe this place was a homeless shelter of some kind… I wish for a place to rest, but I can leave if I'm not welcome here," I quickly answered.

The man in front of me seems to think for a moment before answering.

"This is indeed a shelter, but not one of the charity kind. If u are looking for a place to stay and have some protection, you will either have to pay a tiny fee or contribute to this community in some other way. If not, you can fuck off and get outa here, or else me and my boys will have to convince you to leave," he said out loud, the warning clear if I can't provide something to them in exchange for letting me stay.

At the moment I don't have any money or anything valuable on me to exchange with.

I do not want to stay on the streets at night in this city. From what has been told to me, this city has an extremely violent gang problem that often likes to beat up those who are loitering around for no good reason, and that's without counting on the supervillains of those gangs showing up to beat the living crap out of you if not outright kill you with their powers.

I almost gave up and left then and there until I remembered that I did have something to exchange with. The power that I have makes me a magical chef, I bet this group of homeless people hadn't eaten anything but garbage as of late, with my cooking, no matter the ingredients, I can make something tasteful. I'll just have to be extremely subtle with my power to avoid revealing that I have powers.

"do you have a communal space to cook? I was formerly a student in a cooking course you see, and I am sure that my skills can be put to good use to you here, if I am allowed to stay that is." I lied a bit to give myself some legitimacy about my cooking skills.

The old man seemed to think for a bit before nodding to himself

"I see… alright I will take you to our cooking spot and see if u are bullshittin me about your skills. if it's any good you can stay and find a place to hunker down for the night," he said then took a step closer to me almost within arm's distance.

"But I will break your hands if u are lying, I am allowing you one chance to use our hard-earned ingredients to make something good and no more, Do you understand?"

He gives me a hard look as if giving me a chance to admit I can't cook and leave with my hands unbroken. I double down instead.

"I understand sir, I won't disappoint you, I'm sure I can cook something that will impress everyone," I said with surety.

"We will see," he said before turning around and beckoning me to follow him into the camp, with his group surrounding me. I really hope my powers won't spontaneously stop working while I cook for them…
… I swear if I just jinxed myself, stupid intrusive thoughts tempting fate like that.

---

I stood before a large collection of vegetables and other food ingredients. I have been told these were expired or no longer serviceable scraps from the dumpsters of the local restaurants and markets. Surprisingly much of the stuff in front of me looks edible if you cut out certain bad parts.

I can work with this. I began to smile within myself.

"Well, can you make anything out of this?" said the older man from before to me

"If you can get me a knife and a large cooking pot of water, I might be able to make some good soup out of this," I replied

The older man nodded at my request

"aight, Mike! give 'em your knife, and someone get a barrel full of clean water over here!" he yelled to the group of armed men.

A large man walked over to him and handed him a large bowie knife then the old man gave it to me via the hilt. It is a huge bowie knife, but hey, if it can cut it will have to do. I take it and start preparing the ingredients, I cut all the nasty stuff away from some vegetables and throw away things that are too far gone to be of any use.

I see some people preparing a large fire with some scrap wood, while some of the guys who left returned with a large barrel of surprisingly clean water in it. I'm surprised by how fast and efficiently everyone works, seems that they do this very often if all they need is but a few words from the old man to get to work.

While everyone was busy and distracted, I subtly began infusing the ingredients with a minuscule bit of my power. I instinctively picked out the best ingredients and cut them in ways that would increase the flavor. I grind and smash certain stuff to make some improvised spices. Salt was easy to get when I asked for it since this is a coastal city. By the time I was finished preparing all the meat/vegetables and spices the barrel of water on the large fire began to boil.

Now for the last part, I added all the ingredients in the barrel in an order that I instinctively knew would increase the flavor. Not only that, the power that I infused in all the ingredients would cause a cascade effect and combine, allowing the soup to be empowered with a bit of stamina and a health boost. Nothing too strong it will be just enough to ease certain pains and heal small bruises in a shorter time period, nothing that will be noticed as too unusual.

After waiting for a bit and occasionally stirring the barrel with a large stick I declared it finished. I looked towards the old man while he began to inspect the barrel with a wooden spoon in his hand that he got from somewhere.
I waited with bated breath as he began to slowly cool down the soup on his spoon and tasted it. Satisfaction filled me when he let out a pleased sigh and straightened his back after swallowing it.

"Aight, this boy legit, this is one of the best soups I've tasted in… a long time," he said out loud.

"Everyone gather round, dinner is ready!" yelled the old man.

Different men and women came forward with bowls and cups to scoop up some soup while the group of armed men acted as a sort of security, making sure everyone got a fair share. I noticed the old man walking towards me while nodding his head.

"Aight you earned some goodwill from me so ya can stay and find someplace to sleep, some of the tents here are empty since the last cape beatdown, so we got the space for ya."

I tilted my head at that

"Cape beatdown?" I asked curiously

The old man nodded again

"Yeah sometime a new cape comes beatin' us up and goes too far thinkin' they are fighting some mooks of the gangs, while other times its the fight between the Protectorate and the gangs causing some collateral at the docks and thinkin' none live there, specialty if the big boys begin a fight" he shrugged his shoulders.

"It happens often enough that we got used to missin' a guy or two here, so we always got some empty tents. If ya lucky, there might be some clothes in there that u can use," he said casually as if he didn't imply that people regularly get killed around here.

I just nodded my head, not knowing how I felt about using a dead person's former residence and taking their stuff as my own.

"Follow me I'll take ya to ya new place," he said while walking away, with me following right behind him.

When we were in front of a tent he beckoned me to follow him inside it. the old man turned around and faced me with a serious no-nonsense expression on his face.

"I know what ya are, boy," he said quietly to me, giving me a small freakout.

"I don't know what you are talking about," I quickly deflected, trying to plead for ignorance.

"Don't care if ya are tryin' to hide ya are a cape, I just want to tell ya something important," the old man said.

I remain silent in shock at how this old man somehow figured out that I have powers.

The old man somehow saw my shock and gave me a quick explanation.

"I saw ya cooking boy and no way in hell that soup could taste that good with what was used for it, not only that but my back pain has been slowly receding since I tasted ya soup, the others might not notice it, but I do. And if that ain't enough proof, ya grey hair and eyes give it away as well."

I stood silent for a moment before I asked a question of my own to him.

"Do you think others have noticed as well then? and what are you going to do with me now?" I asked in a monotone, even voice, trying to calm myself down from the tiny bit of stress that was building up within me. This is a nightmare scenario, if he noticed it others might as well. The old man raised his hands in a disarming gesture

"calm down boy, no need to go throwing hands here, I aint tellin nobody what I figured out"

he said making me calm down slightly but not by much.

"I'm just lettin ya know that it was not exactly hidden info with those who can recognize the signs," he said " aint the first time a new cape comes around here seekin' refuge, I remember the last time that happened around here, that's why I'm trying to warn ya"

"Warn me... of what?" I asked, prompting him to continue

The old man lets out a tired sigh.

"A couple of years back a girl came here seekin' a place for the night just like you, she had no cash so she said she could be useful in other ways, says she was real good at fixin' cars and bikes. we let her do her thing and wouldn't you know it we got a couple of good bikes out of some junk we had lying around" he narrated with a sad expression.

"Sherrel was her name if I remember right, so she stayed a couple of nights making and fixin' more things and rumors started spreadin all around the place. so one night, some goons and a cape came here and beat everyone up until some fella spilled where she was," he spewed out with some heat in his voice.

"Then they found her and stuck a needle in her till she dropped and took her away from here. It wasn't until a couple of months later that she came out with all kinds of needle marks on her arm and working for the bastard that took her away while using her as a fucktoy and personal mechanic"

"Anyway moral of the story is rumors spread fast and they get the attention of the gangs and other capes real quick, especially if they are weak tinkerer capes like you and Sherrel."

"All I'm sayin' is be careful and don't get too comfortable around here, make sure ya are ready to run if the gangs come sniffin' around not only for ya own health but folks from here too. The gangs ain't kind to us if they want to find ya," he said in a warning to me while finishing his story.

All I could do was nod numbly while processing that I probably was going to be in danger sometime soon, no way others hadn't also figured it out as well and started tattling about it to others for some cash. I am a hot commodity around here, I do not want to be a hot commodity, it is bad for my continued survival and independence.

"Anyway that's all I wanted ta say, there are some better clothes in that bag in the corner that might fit ya, tha blood and rainbow stuff on ya ain't subtle I tell ya." said the old man while standing near the exit flap of the tent.

"ahh also... folks call me old Mac around here and that's what ya can call me, welcome to the trainyard see ya around, or not," he said uncaringly, leaving me in stunned silence.

I looked around before going to the duffel bag and changing my clothes luckily there was an old tattered raincoat some pants and shoes and a trapper hat. Hopefully, that will hide my grey hair and allow me to blend in a crowd more easily. When I was finished reclothing myself I began to feel a familiar headache forming in my brain, energy forms and takes hold of something in another constellation.

[connection established]

(downloading data package) (Clockwork Kingdom (Dark Souls 2)(Magitech Crafting) (installing native physics to local reality cluster) (proceed to install noninvasive [DATA] to [HOST/CANDITATE])

I now know how to build anything with gears and complex mechanical analog machinery that can last hundreds of years without any maintenance, so long as everything stays mechanical that is. I begin to grin to myself, this power gives me some more options to protect myself with, but before I jump straight into testing my new power I will take a quick nap here and rest. I am too exhausted after all the world-shattering revelations in one short day. Death, alive, powers, superheroes, villains, giant monsters, new worlds, it is all too much for me for one day.

I close my eyes while lying down on the thin mattress on the ground. I forgot to tell my name to Old Mac when he introduced himself i learned from experience that it is rude not to reciprocate I believe.

My name…

I furrow my brow in confusion. My name is… my name?… … My eyes shoot open in a panic while a cold sweat starts building up on my forehead. I can't remember what my name is nor any of my family members's. My sister, dad, mom. I can't remember anything about them, not even their faces.

"Fuck" I cursed out loud at the horrifying realization as this awful truth come to light.

 

[Hexilios]

RULES / REMINDERS

---

I use a personalized list + a random roller to choose certain perks from Celestial Forge V3. I will follow certain themes and progression for perks to not overwhelm the pacing of the story. if I want to choose a perk I will roll the dice if I will get it.

rules:
100cp for every 1000 words. For every 1000 words there will be a roll, if a roll fails you get no power, and have to wait for the next 1000 words to roll again. points get banked on a failed roll.

( words to points is subject to change depending on story pacing ) ( rolls also are not hard set, sometimes I will skip a 1000-word roll for pacing)

rule: ( Error; System cooldown initiated ):
If you successfully rolled 2 perks in one chapter there will be a 1 chapter cooldown. no points will be earned for the next chapter, no matter how many words are written in it. you roll another perk successfully while the cooldown is still in effect and a 1 chapter cooldown becomes 2 chapters. so get creative with what perks you currently have.

rule: ( Knowledge. Research. Prototype. Maintenance ):
Any new perk received is knowledge added to your mind, but knowledge is only useful with practical experience.
Testing and research are required or your inventions might explode, go rogue, or get out of control, especially when you start mixing different tech trees from different worlds together, the likelihood of failures increases.

More likely than not you will be going out with prototypes in hand, and improving upon later iterations after a proper field test. learn from making mistakes and improve upon them. Also depending on the tech, you need to maintain your stuff be it by yourself, or some drones you made, or by a staff of engineers you hired. your stuff can be worn out by Regular wear and tear. Just like any other real technology ever.

---

( Pocket Dimension/workshop )
workshop only unlocks when you get a workshop perk.

Workshops/items/recourses need a catalyst of resources before they can be given to the MC. ex( server room perk received: needs to collect raw materials/matter in a single location, and then it gets converted/transmuted to the receiving technology/room be it in a warehouse or your pocket dimension. single use).

There will be no key or door, the entrance looks like a circular hole in space-time.
you can close and open the gateway but it will cost you 100 cp every time.
No points can be earned while inside the pocket dimension, no matter how many words are written. You can't close the gate while inside the pocket dimension.

There are more smaller stuff for perk choices/preferences but that's all behind-the-scenes. These are my reminder notes, they are not hard rules. they are more like heavily reinforced guidelines to prevent me from adding more stuff than I can use in the story.

 

[Hexilios]

PERKS

26.1.1-Beniemiya (50CP)(Fate/Legends Japan Land of the Rising Sun)(ArtisanCP): It might just be something in the water, both what you're drinking and what you serve to the guests that adore every meal you make. You're a savant when it comes to making meals, not just limited to Eastern dishes either. With a little experimentation, you can make almost anything into a mouth watering feast for both the taste buds and the eyes. The real problem isn't making a good meal but keeping all these greedy pigs from eating you out of the house and home. Don't even try making hamburgers around any blonde ladies, it never ends well. Now, while cooking good food is a prize well worth it, you also have a more useful aspect here. By channeling magical energy into your tools and ingredients as you work, you're able to 'enchant' the meal with a variety of useful effects. A hearty beef stew that lets a warrior heal their wounds much faster than normal, sugary sweets that give people the speed of the wind, a mighty hamburger that temporarily bulges the muscles to greater heights. Even negative effects are possible if you want to taint your food that way. They only last for a temporary period and the effects tend to be fairly weak without a lot of mana put in but it makes your food all the more popular.

31.13.1-Clockwork Kingdom (400CP)(Dark Souls 2)(Magitech CraftingCP): Yeah working with souls and other special materials is great and all but you don't have that. You've got men, iron and a little bit of the old razzle dazzle. You know what? That's enough to fucking build up an entire kingdom and you can show that off. Near mythological abilities as an engineer. With a basic knowledge of sorcery and excessive skill with clockwork machinations, you could create automatons that can follow simple commands, traps that reset and resupply themselves, and self-maintaining machines. Although the things you make are marvelous in function, the most spectacular aspect of this perk is their sheer endurance. Despite the moving parts and small components, even when exposed to the elements and left unmaintained, unless deliberately broken they seemingly just keep working forever.

 

[Hexilios]

Chapter 2 (Build /Prototype /Survive)

---

I was stunned in shock and dread.

I can't remember my own name or the names of those who were close to me. Now that I'm focusing on it, all I have is a rough impression of who they were as people and how close we were. I know that there was more to them, and I know that I'm supposed to know more. but digging deeper within my own mind reveals only a gaping void to where my memories used to be. It was as if something cut away ninety percent of my mind and only kept the most important things that made me technically a functioning person. I know who I am as a person, but nothing more than that.

It is also so… seamless. When I think of my family, I think of how much I care for them and how much joy and warmth their concept brings to my mind. But that's it. If I dig any deeper, I can't remember them as people, only vague ideas of a family. I know I loved them, and I still love them, but I do not comprehend the context behind this love.

Somehow, this violation of my mind and personhood filled me with more dread than my actual death. I stared blankly at the nylon tent's ceiling flap for a few moments, consumed by an emptiness that I had only recently realized I had. I looked at the tent's entrance flap and decided that I needed some fresh air to escape my spiraling thoughts. Luckily, I had a new power to experiment with, a perfect distraction from the existential questioning of my personhood and mind.

I rechecked my new attire; the old grey raincoat would cover my blood-covered shirt, and the dirty grey trapper's hat would hide my supposed silver-grey hair from a casual observance. While I looked into the previous owner's bag further, I found a pair of steel-tipped worker shoes. From the items and clothing, I could tell that this bag belonged to a former blue-collar worker. It's a miracle that I haven't stepped on something sharp while walking barefoot this whole time.

I stepped outside with my duffel bag hanging from a strap on my shoulder and started exploring the place. The entire place had this sort of post-apocalyptic aesthetic to it. I saw some buckets and barrels making makeshift rain gutters on top of the rusted train cars, probably to collect some drinking water. Not only that, but some dirt patches next to the train rails had some small vegetables being tended to by some people. Despite what some people might think of the homeless, they are pretty resourceful if they need to be, especially in a small, tight-knit community like this.

However, my expectations dropped a notch for the local city government if its people are left to adapt like this and are also left to fend for themselves. Despite the teamwork of the people, the fact that this is a necessity speaks poorly of the local economy and its administration. While wandering around for a bit more, I came across a familiar giant of a man who had lent me his giant bowie knife a while earlier when I was cooking.

"Greetings, Mike, is it? That is your name if I remember it correctly?" I hesitantly asked the quiet, towering man. I was already above average in height, but this man towered even over me. It was quite intimidating, especially with his large knife sheathed at his hip, ready to be drawn at any moment.

Mike frowned before letting out a deep grunt with a slight nod towards me. I think that was confirmation, but I'm not entirely sure, I thought nervously.

"Right… I was wondering if there is someplace with some scrap metal around. I need to test something," I asked, not so subtly. This was a considerable risk to blatantly ask for resources like this. This just screams Tinker out into the open. While I would have preferred to play the long game and just kept my head down and built up in peace, according to Old Mac I had already been marked as unusual by everyone with two working brain cells. It won't be long before rumors start to spread. and if Mac's story is anything to go by, it won't be long before someone starts sniffing around for a weak tinker to own like a leashed pet.

Right now, my plans are to build a portable weapon for self-defense and make some small pocket snacks with a range of small buffing powers. Healing and certain speed buffs are my priorities at the moment: healing for any potential wounds and speed for when I am in need of running away from a hostile situation. I am not fooling myself into playing a hero around here. I am too squishy at the moment to try for more offensive tactics.

I focus back on Mike. Mike just grunts, nods his head, and walks away while beckoning me to follow him with a gesture.

I followed Mike for a while in silence. We were quite a distance away from the camp now, I know, because it was getting really dark outside, and the distant campfire lights were getting smaller the further we got from the camp. Eventually, Mike stopped walking, and we stood before some small hills of scrap metal and other industrial junk that seemed to have spilled over from some derailed hopper carts.

"They were planning to disassemble what they could from the industrial sector of the docks before the money ran dry" Mike explained the existence of the train carts and all its mechanical scrap. "It ain't the scrapyard, so no one will be watching for new tinkerers here, " Mike further explained with a frown on his face.

"Make what you need to make and leave," Mike bluntly said. I assumed he had said everything he wanted to say and promptly walked away, leaving me in the dark with only the moonlight illuminating the scene.

I gazed over the many piles of scrap and decided to start digging in. I was stuffing my duffel bag full of scrap that I thought could be of use to me and dumped them into two separate piles. One pile was for potential parts such as gears, nuts, bolts, and screws that fit each other, While the other pile was for some abandoned tools that I found, such as rusted wrenches, hammers, or different types of screwdrivers. After two long hours of searching and sorting scrap, I realized that this was going to be a long night.

---

Well, it seems that I have discovered a specific limitation of my current power. I am a "genius" when it comes to the arts of gears and mechanical contraptions. Designs of complex automatons, self-refilling traps, and complex gear systems were all swimming within my mind, ready to be used for my own designs. However, I do not currently have the tools to make such complex machinery. I do not have a forge that I could use to melt and bend certain metals to my will or the specialized tools to machine the specific gear ratios that I need. I could undoubtedly make the complex tools to make more complex tools if I had a reliable base with a forge. But as of now, I will have to settle for basic assembly. I am mismatching certain parts that roughly fit each other, and I am forcing certain metals to bend under heavy tension, only for me to hammer them in place and lock them up with heavier bolts. After another few hours of picking and choosing parts, It was finally complete.

Click to shrink...

It was a mashed-together abomination of a gun. I made a gun-like contraption that uses a big spring as the primary propellant system. It can only shoot one sharpened bolt before I have to use a full cranking rotation with the hand crank at the back, and then the Spring locks itself back into place under an incredible amount of pressure. I also made sure to make an automatic magazine that currently holds 5 sharpened 3-inch bolts (7.62 cm). I also used a sharp piece of rusted steel as a makeshift bayonet at the front of the thing. I am pretty sure that whoever I stab with this will get a heavy dose of Tetanus along with their stab wounds.

As for the Boltgun's™ penetrating shooting power? I used the nearby metal containers of the derailed train cars as shooting targets. It punched a hole halfway through a single wall of the metal exterior with a loud thundering sound accompanied by several glowing sparks. The projectile itself was stuck within the metal wall.
Normally, I would be highly pleased to have such a powerful weapon to aid in my mission of violent diplomacy, but after just shooting two rounds, the gun began to creak and slightly shake under the extreme tension it was under from the industrial-grade spring. I'm reminded that this thing is only held together by rusted screws and bolts. I then decided to only use it when I had no other alternatives in an emergency. Thus, I carefully reloaded the weapon and hid it in my duffel bag. I then took my small pile of collected tools and laid them on top of the weapon, somewhat hiding it. Finally, I closed the bag shut with its zipper.

I have successfully built a weapon for the use of violent premeditated self-defense, even if it is a coin toss of whether it is going to shoot a bolt or violently burst within my own hands. I tiredly sighed in resignation while staring at the rising morning sun on the distant horizon. beggars can't be choosers," people often say, and I am indeed a beggar with limited options. I slowly walked my way back towards the camp and wondered what type of magical breakfast I should prepare for everyone.

---

The morning started pleasant enough. Old Mac had given me permission to cook using the community's pooled ingredients. However, it seemed they kept their best stuff to themselves when I tried to prove my cooking skills to them yesterday. Now that some trust has been established between me and this community, more people have become somewhat friendlier toward me. Some tried to socialize with me by making small talk, but my blunt and quick answers stunted any conversation that was longer than a sentence. I was never really great in a social setting, even though I can't remember any moment in the past when that applied. It is confusing to be so sure of yourself but unable to learn about the past that has shaped you as a person.

…Anyway, to shake off the morning tiredness, I decided to make some pancakes with a subtle energizing effect, like a good cup of coffee. When that was done, I made some tiny pocket-sized mini pancakes with all kinds of different power properties for myself, just in case. When I finished, I stepped past the group of people whose names I had already forgotten. I was incredibly exhausted at this moment. A moment of lost focus was all it took for me to bump into someone accidentally. I was about to apologize when the person took the initiative.

"Woah there, be careful who ya walk into. These old bones of mine aren't as strong as they used to be," Old Man Mac said while holding me steady with both of his hands on my shoulders.

"Sorry, I'm just exhausted right now," I said, shrugging, almost letting my shoulder-strapped duffel bag drop to the ground.

"I was wonderin where ya was all night when I saw you leave with Mike to the rust pile," Mac said, confirming to me that he had been watching me or Mike had just told him outright.

I looked around and noticed we were quite isolated, away from everyone, perfect for a quiet, private conversation. This old man is quite the sneaky schemer, not in a bad way, but more like an experienced veteran assessing a possible threat to his community. No wonder this camp is so orderly with this old man steering the ship. At least I owe him an explanation for letting me stay in this place for the night, even if I did have to pay some monetary value or service to the community. I imagine there aren't a lot of places like this around this city, not without incurring a certain amount of debt or eternal allegiance to some crime lord.

"I asked Mike to take me to a place full of scrap that I could use for my construction. I found some simple tools and made a decent weapon out of the garbage. It took me all night, but I am more protected now," I told him.

"I have everything I need to leave now, so thank you, Mac. This will give me at least a chance to defend myself," I said with sincerity.

Mac's eyes glanced at the duffel bag for a moment before nodding his head. "Glad ya could help yourself there, but you look like shit now, and ya ain't leavin' before you can at least stand on your own two feet, so take a quick nap at your spot. I can give you at least that much, but after that, ya have to leave." he looked me in the eyes while leaning in closer to me. "I already heard talk about you spreading to the other settlements, and those camps are in the control of some of the minor drug gangs around here," he said in a serious tone of voice. "I want ya gone by the time ya wake up and no second longer, understood?" he asked me.

I slowly nodded. "I understand. When I'm fully rested, I'll be gone."

Mac nodded at my answer, and his stance relaxed a bit. "Good, that's good. I'd hate to see what happened to Sherrel happen to you," he said, patting my shoulder for a bit before walking away.

---

I woke up slightly disoriented inside the tent but otherwise refreshed. I hadn't realized that Building the Boltgun™ would have been so exhausting. I stood up, lifted the tent flap a bit, and looked outside. A sky full of stars and a full moon greeted me. Man, I must have been really tired if I had slept for an entire day.

I went back inside and looked over all of my acquired stuff. A duffel bag full of rusty tools and a hidden Boltgun check, pockets filled with mini pancakes of healing and stamina check, shoes, raincoat, pants, and trapper hat all seem to be accounted for. I closed my duffel back and hung it over my shoulder. It was time to leave. Despite the kindness of the people here, I know that if I stayed any longer, trouble would come looking for me. Old Mac made that perfectly clear to me, it was inevitable.

I sneaked out of the tent and slowly made my way toward the edge of the camp. In the darkness, I sneaked between multiple tents and makeshift rooms, with only the moon above illuminating my path toward the outer edge of the trainyard. I now stood on top of a small incline and looked behind me. These people have been good to me, even if some were very blunt and sometimes rude. When I am in a better position in life, I will surely come back and repay them in some way. That is a promise to myself.

I would have turned around and kept my pace if not for a small light in the distance that caught my attention. slightly curious, I began to focus on it. I saw some silhouettes of four people, with one holding a flashlight, walking towards the front "entrance" of the camp. possibly some guys looking for a safe place to stay for the night, or it is trouble. I would have continued on my way if I hadn't slightly flinched when I heard a loud gunshot sound in the direction of the camp. I stopped and hesitated for a bit. In normal circumstances, I would have continued walking and moved on, but the gunshot came from Old Mac's camp.

I can freely admit that I am not a saint. I value my own safety over those of some random strangers any day. I don't understand why a hero would put their own lives below those of some strangers. It's not that I won't help people if there is trouble, but never at my own expense. It is a simple weighing game of what I can afford to lose. I would have left by now if it weren't for one simple fact. The people of the camp aren't strangers anymore in my mind. I know Mac and Mike by name. I ate with them and the strangely kind group of homeless people. Mac and Mike helped me out by clothing me, providing a safe place to stay, and gathering resources for my tinkering. Hell, when it was clear that I was a tinker, Mac didn't immediately kick me out. When Looking back, I realize now that Mac was in a perfect position to grab me with his men and lock me up as their personal pocket tinker slave, but Mac didn't do that. He only warned me of the upcoming danger. He let me know that I was spotted as unusual by other people, making me aware that pretending to be a normal person was a futile attempt with my looks.

In the end, I know them personally, not by much, but enough that my conscience won't allow me to turn a blind eye towards this. and that made all the difference to me personally.

I began to sneak back to the camp in a way that wouldn't reveal me by nearby light sources. I avoided some of the people who were trying to hide and slinked my way to the large gathering at the center of the camp. The closer I got, the better I could hear the commotion.

"-ont lie to me, Mac! I have my own eyes on this place. I know you are hiding another tinker here!" I heard a loud man's voice yelling out.

I hid behind the nearest tent and poked my head out slightly to take a look at the situation. I saw Mac and his men standing on one side, armed with makeshift melee weapons, and across from them stood four guys with one holding a pistol of some kind in one hand, aiming at something. When I began to look in the direction of where the guy was aiming at, my heart dropped slightly; it was Mike, bleeding on the ground while holding his leg in an attempt to stop the bleeding, not that it seemed to help much considering that a growing puddle of blood began to form all around him.

The man with the gun took a step closer to Mike and began shouting again,
"C'mon Mac, just tell me where the fucking tinker is, or else big Mike here will get a new hole in his forehead." the man threatened while waving his gun in front of Mike's face. Mike seemed to stare a hole into the gunman with his eyes alone, while Old Mac seemed almost ready to order his group of men to attack. Mac had the gunman's group outnumbered, but I also noticed how the gunman's group kept their hands within their pockets. Judging by the slight bulge near their pockets, they probably had their own handguns. So, six melee combatants versus 4 gunmen and one wounded in the middle. Even if Mac had them beat in numbers, the thugs each had a firearm. No matter how you look at it, some people were going to die. I looked at Mike again while my heartbeat sped up in my chest. The way Mike kept Bleeding would surely kill him from blood loss soon.

The Lead thug let out a sigh and aimed his gun directly at Mike's forehead.
"Such a shame. I liked you Mike, quiet, blunt, and to the point. I always hoped you would have accepted my deal. You would have been great for intimidating the other drug dens. Such a shame indeed," he said while pretending to look sad about the apparent lost opportunity. He began to put some pressure on his trigger finger.

"Wait, Wait! don't shoot!" I shouted while slowly revealing myself from behind my hiding spot. The gunman quickly aimed at me with his gun but luckily didn't shoot me with it.

If I waited any second longer, Mike would be dead. I could have used my bolt gun to shoot the gun-holding bastard, but I wasn't confident with my aim from this distance. Not only that, I could only shoot the damn thing only once before I had to rewind it again, and there were still three other thugs with guns who would have shot me even if I succeeded. Fuck, it was a win-lose situation.

"And who the fuck are you?!" said the lead gunman while his aim followed me as I got closer to him, my hands were slightly raised in a non-threatening way. I also noticed Mac lower his head when he saw me with a dismayed expression.

"Step any closer, and I'll shoot you! now who the fuck are you!?" the man yelled out loud.

I hesitated for a bit while halting in my steps, in for an inch in for a mile, or I think the saying goes like that?

"I'm the tinker you were looking for," I loudly declared while my gaze lingered on Mike. I noticed his skin tone was getting paler by the second. That can't be a good sign. If only I could get any closer and give him a healing mini pancake.

The man evaluated me for a moment, and then he began to smirk and let out a small chuckle. "Is that so? And how do I know that you are what you say you are? Got any proof, Tinker Boy?" he said while mocking me.
Fuck, this guy believes me but is still asking me for proof. He is probably trying to see if I have any tinker weapons on me so that he can disarm me. I thought really hard about what I should say until a "brilliant" idea hit me.

"I'm a food tinker. But I can also make foodstuffs that can heal. I can prove it to you right now if you let me heal Mike over there," I said.

Ugh, if this gets out to the other gangs, it will be open seasons for fresh, healing tinker meat. Being a new tinker is already bad on its own, but one that can also heal? Not even the bigger gangs that I heard of will be able to resist the temptation to grab me. Judging by their widening eyes, the thugs knew that I am the golden goose.

The leader's smirk became a hungry smile. "Well, don't let me stop you from patching up dear ol Mikey over here," he said, taking a few steps back from Mike. I noticed that he never stopped aiming his gun at me.

I took the opportunity and quickly went to Mike's side to take two mini pancakes from inside my raincoat's inner pockets. One was for healing, and the other was for stamina. Hopefully, this would stop the bleeding and energize him enough to compensate for the lack of blood in his system. But before I could stuff his face with pancakes, Mike looked me in the eyes. "you shouldn't… have come back," he whispered to me and coughed at the end.

I nodded at that. "I probably shouldn't have," I said to him in agreement.

"Here, eat this." It will help," I said while holding the two snacks in front of his mouth. Mike easily did as I asked of him and ate the two snacks in one bite. damn, he didn't even chew it, he just swallowed it in one go. I was instantly relieved when I saw his complexion improve and his leg stop bleeding. His leg wound should be completely healed in but a few hours—or so my instinct told me. Hopefully, someone will get the bullet out before the wound closes around it. I noticed he was trying to stand up, so I lent him a helping hand. He nodded in gratitude. By the time he stood on his own two legs, I heard someone whistle in front of us.

"Well, would you look at that? you are the real deal after all," said the leader in a mocking tone. "Now drop your bag and take a few steps back, and you, Mike, it seems it is your lucky day, run back to dear Old Mac over there like the good guard dog you are." the leader waved his hand in a shooing motion toward Mike. Mike gave me one long look that conveyed all sorts of emotions before he clenched his fists and limped back toward Mac's group.

I took a few steps back, leaving my bag behind. The leader nodded and then looked behind him. "Hey, Ricky! check the bag. I don't want any surprises," the leader ordered one of his underlings.

"Okay, bossman, " replied a lean, emaciated man who stepped towards my duffel bag and began to rummage through it. My heartbeat began to speed up. This was what I was afraid of. I had hoped that by saying that I was a food tinker, they would have left my bag alone. I just stood there waiting with bated breath as Ricky searched through my bag.

"Uh, Boss? This sack is only filled with trash," said the emaciated man, holding a rusted hammer above his head. When the leader saw the open bag, he examined it closer and then began to look at me with scrunched-up eyebrows.

"Hey, tinker, what is all this trash for?" the leader asked while still aiming his gun at me.

I was slightly confused and took a quick look myself. I saw my rusted tools, some leftover materials, and electronics. It took me a moment before I remembered that I placed my bolt gun at the bottom of the pile. looking even closer, I noticed that due to its scrapped and rusted appearance, it perfectly camouflaged itself within the surrounding scrap and tools inside the bag. These thugs are looking right over my Boltgun, thinking it was part of the extra scrap. I began to feel slightly relieved now. I would have to play my cards just right to keep my gun from being noticed.

"Those… are my tools. I use them for my tinkering," I replied back loudly.

"This shit, are your tools? why the hell would a food tinker need a hammer and metal scrap for?" the leader exclaimed his disbelief while giving the bag a slight kick. I noticed the bag remained unmoved while the leader's face scrunched up a bit while also letting out a low hiss before he quickly hid it with an uncaring expression.

"What can I say? I need it to create my Tinker Food. Without it, I can't make anything," I told him with a straight face. I was praying he would buy into it.
The leader expressed his doubt openly on his face before looking behind me at Old Man Mac.

"Is that true Mac? this fuckin tinker used rusted scrap to make you breakfast?" he demanded an answer from Mac. I couldn't look behind me; my attention was solely focused on the gun pointed in my direction and my open duffel bag, but I could hear Mac's voice clearly enough.

"ay, the kid made us the best soup we have ever swallowed using only a bunch of shit and rusty tools. You know how tinkerers are, Harold. They don't make any lick of sense." replied Mac. " isn't that right, boys," Mac asked his group of men. A rumble of "ay's," "yes's," and grunts is what I hear answering Mac's query.

The thug leader seemed to look for any signs of deceit before losing interest and just nodded his head. "Yeah, I often hear tinkers are bullshit like that," he said, then looked at me with a smug smile on his face. " And now that bullshit works for me now… you will work for me? won't you, tinker boy?" he asked me while waving his gun in my direction. The message clearly received, refusal isn't an option for me. I reluctantly nodded my head.

"Good. I'm glad you understand your position already. It would have been a pain to drag you with us," the leader said, then looked at Mac.

"Well, Mac, thanks for the gift. I'm sure The Boss will ease up on your rent for a bit at the end of the month," said the leader. Mac looked like he had bit a sour lemon while clenching his fists with barely restrained anger.

"Now then, Ricky! close the bag, and take it with us. Can't have our new tinker be useless without any tools." commanded the leader to the skinny man.

"ay, ay, bossman," said the skinny man before trying to lift the bag on his shoulder without any success. "F..fuck, what the hell" muttered the skinny man while trembling, trying to lift the bag.

"the fucks the problem?" questions the leader, seeing his subordinate struggling to lift the duffel bag off the ground.

"fuck bossman, this tinkers shit is…. oof, too..heavy," replied the skinny thug while huffing in exhaustion. The leader looked annoyed and stood beside his subordinate.

"you skinny shit, I fucking told you that you should have joined us in the gym, but look at you now, can't even lift some bag." The leader angrily said while pushing the emaciated man aside.

"fuck off, you useless shit. I'll do it myself." The leader then took the handle of the duffle bag and lifted it off the ground for a few seconds before letting it drop back down again.

"Fuck,... huff, that shit… You, tinker boy! why the fuck is this shit of yours so heavy!" the leader angrily addresses me. I myself was surprised that both men could barely lift my bag off the ground. My stuff wasn't that heavy, was it?

"tinker... stuff?" I said while shrugging in reply. I myself was confused about this situation. For me, the bag weighs no more than a bag full of regular groceries. Now that I think about it more deeply, I haven't really struggled to lift anything at the trainyard. I was more exhausted by the repetitiveness of the scrap sorting while building my bolt gun than any of the lifting itself. Could it be that I'm stronger now than I was before my death? But why? It doesn't feel like a power. The only difference I feel compared to before is that I feel, perhaps, healthier?

I was pulled out from my musings when the leader snapped his fingers a couple of times in my direction.

"Hey, hey! Pay attention when I'm talking to you." the leader angrily snaps his fingers at me. "You carry your own shit then, but if I or my boys see you reach in or open your bag, we will shoot first, then beat you cold. You understand me, tinkerboy," he sneers at me while delivering his warning.

Externally, I didn't show any emotions; I only nodded my head in understanding, but internally, I celebrated this small victory. While the boss is still weary of me, they believe that I'm unarmed and can only make food. With my bag literally within my grip and my bolt gun within reach, I finally have some options open for a possible escape plan. I approached my bag cautiously under the watchful eye of the leader and his team. I zipped it closed and hoisted it using the shoulder strap. The leader stared at me, bemused at how effortlessly I lifted the bag before swiftly masking his surprise.

"fucking tinkers, alright boys, surround him, and let us get to the base. The Boss might even reward us with a good hit for snagging a cape for him," the leader announced loudly. While his followers let out low laughs.

The skinny man was behind me, while two of the bigger thugs were to my left and right. Of course, the leader stood at the front of the group. This was like an inverse V.I.P. formation, but instead of protecting me, it was to keep me from running away. I looked behind me while we walked and saw old man Mac and his group, none of whom met me in the eyes. I did see many of them clenching their fists in frustration.

---

After a couple more turns of these empty streets, the camp was completely out of sight.
I tightly held onto my duffel bag and looked around me. we were closer to the true docks now, for I could smell the salty seawater from here. We passed a couple of abandoned docking cranes that have long since accumulated a bunch of rust. This city was truly dead within the sea industry, wasn't it? I can't imagine how the so-called end-bringer could have killed an entire industry on its lonesome. It must have been some combination of greed, mismanagement, and or incompetence to get it to go this bad, or at least I hope it is so.

I was pulled from my internal thoughts by a not-so-gentle push from behind.
"oy, keep walking. The sooner we get ya before the big boss, the sooner I can get my share of the rewards," the lean guy says while simultaneously scratching his forearm with a bunch of needle marks on it. While him being a drug addict doesn't surprise me as much, what does surprise me is that with his hand now free from its place, this allowed me to see a piece of rebar sticking out of his pocket from where I previously thought a gun was held. I quickly looked away and looked at the other thugs surrounding me. Both guys on my left and right have that same strange bulge in their hoodie pockets, but they never took out their "guns." Only the leader is waving around his firearm in the open.

A plan began to form in my mind. These guys aren't all armed with guns. I am positive about this now. They were bluffing before, but even if I know that now, the leader still has a real firearm, and I am also surrounded. The moment I try to open my bag and take out the BoltGun, they will have all the time in the world to charge me and hold me down. while the leader can shoot me just as fast, I'll need a distraction in some way.

"Hey, so I heard of this Big boss of yours. Anything I should know about him?" I asked in the hopes of keeping them busy while I plotted a decent escape plan.

The leader turned his head slightly towards me. "Huh? Interested in the boss? why are you asking?" asked the leader with open suspicion.

"It's just if I'm going to work for your gang. I thought it is best that I know of y- our boss a bit more. I don't want to offend him by accident." I explained my reasoning while also trying to memorize the number of alleyways and recognizable graffiti landmarks we had passed by.

The leader of this group seems to think for a bit before shrugging his shoulders. "Aye, sounds like a good idea. The boss is quick to anger," he said with certainty while nodding his head. After that, he glanced at me and then looked forward again.

"You seem to have accepted your place pretty quick, I think? but I'm not sure if that is really so. It doesn't help that your face doesn't have any tells. I bet you can make a killing playing poker. Anyway, here's a freebie," he said. "Our boss is a cape, just like you. The heroes and our rivals call him Sprinkler, but a word of warning: he hates that name, so just call him boss or Sir or anything but his cape name. Understood, TinkerBoy," he asked me.

I just nodded in affirmation.

"h-hey, The BigBossman ain't so bad if you make him mad. He will only give you the greatest highs of your life, hehe; sometimes I do something bad on purpose just so he can blast me with that sweet, sweet high," the lanky drug addict let out a deep sigh of longing. I try to keep a bit more distance from him for that.

"Shut. The. Fuck up, Ricky! none of us want to hear of your shit!" yelled the leader to his subordinate without looking back.

"So, anyway, what Ricky here is saying is that the Boss's power can get you really high, but if he wants to, he can make you straight up overdose as well with his blasts, so don't fuck up," said the leader and silence seems to fill the air. It seems that the leader doesn't want to talk any further. The two guys to my sides also seem to have no interest in saying anything to me, and the druggie behind me just keeps on giggling and scratching his arms. I think I have found the weak link of this encirclement. Now, I only need to reach for my bolt gun and bodyslam the druggie to get out. I was just a second away from enacting my plan if It wasn't for a big, continuous white glowing line flying into the stars. I paused, glanced up, and saw the light getting further and further into space.

"Huh?.. Hey guys, you see that white stripe in the sky?" I pointed it out to them. Though it was a weird phenomenon, maybe this could be the distraction that I needed.

The leader just laughed at that. "Very funny, boy, but you can't fool me like that. Don't think I haven't noticed you trying to look for a way out." He said while he continued chuckling without looking up.

"O-oy, b-bossman, there is really something up with the sky. The boy ain't bullshittin' here," said the skinny addict while looking up at the strange phenomenon in the sky.

"For fuck sake, Ricky! get your tweaker head in order. There is nothing going on in the sky!" said the leader in growing irritation. but despite his rebuke of the skinny one, the two guys flanking me were also looking up at the white line. The leader saw this and fumed.

"shit, fine, if you all are playing some prank on me, I swear… I… huh?" The leader stops his rant when he witnesses what everyone sees in the sky.

I slowly let my hand wander toward the zipper of my duffel bag and began to unzip it silently and slowly.

"Well, while that is interesting, we should get going. I don't want to anger the boss cuz we're late." said the leader, his gaze slowly lowering while I successfully opened the bag without a sound. sweat starts to build up on my forehead from the stress. It was the tweaker that noticed me first. " Hey, what are you doi-"

I successfully held my grip on the weapon on the bottom of the bag and was prepared to tackle the tweaker. But before I could enact my risky escape. The entire world was suddenly consumed by a pure white light that lasted but a few milliseconds when my eyes began to adjust back from the temporary blindness. I saw The night blue sky had turned into a crimson shade of red.

"What the fuck" "Oh my god." "Dios mío" "......." Exclaimed the group loudly over each other.

Everyone forgot about me, as we all looked up. The Moon was glowing red, with a giant glowing magma stripe on its left side, marring the surface while Fragments of the moon began to float near it.

Click to shrink...

While this was indeed the shock of a lifetime, I saw this as the perfect distraction for my escape. I took hold of my bolt gun and swung it out of the bag. With my bag secured by my shoulder strap, I began to run towards the skinny addict.

"ay, what the hell are-ughs?" the tweaker spewed out spit as I shoulder-decked him hard and pushed him to the side. I took a swift glance at him, falling to the ground before running again.

I kept on running through the deserted streets while hearing angry shouts coming from behind me. I flinched when a shot rang out, and I nearly stumbled when a second shot grazed my shoulder. A third shot was followed shortly by a fourth at the same time. I knew then and there that there was now a second shooter. Some of the two bigger guys must have had a real one on them. With no choice but to avoid direct hits, I turned into a side alley and ran until I saw the alley split in two directions. Instead of running into either path, I began to jump into the pile of trash and hid myself in it.

I quickly took hold of my mini pancakes in my pockets and stuffed my mouth full before swallowing and nearly choking on them. But I managed it. Instantly, I felt the boosts take effect: stamina boost to increase my speed and perception, health boost to heal my minor wounds, Body buffs to give me a bit more strength. I won't be bulletproof, but I am slightly above peak human strength and resilience. I heard rapid footsteps coming from where I had just exited. My heart thundered in my chest, and pure adrenaline flooded my veins. I held my breath when the footsteps came to a stop near my location.

"Mierda, that Cabrón just stabbed Ricky!" The big thug swore out loud.

"Focus on where the tinker went," said the second thug while looking to his left and right, uncertain of which path I could have picked to run. "Fuck! Okay, you go left, and I'll go right, understood!" commanded Thug two.

"Sí understood," Thug one replied. Then, they both parted ways, completely passing me by without knowing I had been there the whole time. When I could no longer hear any footsteps, I took a quick peek around. They were gone, but I couldn't relax just yet. The leader was still out there somewhere. I looked down at my weapon, specifically the bladed part of it. I stared numbly at the blood staining the blade. It seems that I have stabbed the addict really deeply if my blade is stained red up to the base of it. I let out a calming breath. I can focus on that later. I still need to get further away from here.

My bolt gun was groaning under its own strain. I could already see minuscule fractures forming around certain key components. I will probably only have one shot before it bursts apart, but my implanted knowledge lets me easily identify that mechanical failure.

I backtracked where I came from and silently sneaked my way through the abandoned streets of the docks. I turned another corner and walked for a bit before I stopped as the leader stepped out of the alleyway ahead of me with a phone to his ear and a gun in his other hand aimed right at me.

"Aye, I've got him right here. He won't be running anywhere now. See ya boys soon," Said the leader into his phone before hanging up. The leader looked at me, and an ugly smirk began to fill his face.

"You really made a mess of things, TinkerBoy, a mess that will be blamed on me by my boss, so you know I ain't in a generous mood any longer," he spoke deceptively calmly, but his eyes burned with rage and hatred.

"You could have gotten it easy, but you ha—" His theatrics and monologuing made him wave his gun slightly away from me. I took the opportunity. With my boosts still active, I had a better awareness of my speed and perception, so I took advantage of that, and in an instant, my Boltgun was aimed right at the leader's head. Within my perception, I saw his eyes slowly widen in surprise, and he tried to aim his gun as well. But I was a tiny bit faster. Better luck in your next life, leader.
I pulled the trigger, and my sharpened bolt came flying straight out. Within but an instant, his head burst like an overripe melon. blood and brain matter stained the walls all around his body. his corpse stood for a bit longer, not realizing its death, and then the corpse fell backward onto the ground. I was lucky that I managed to avoid the splash zone from the gore. I also felt a small cut forming on my left cheek. Ah, he grazed me with a bullet. No matter, it will heal within a few hours anyway.

My Bolt gun began to creak, and bigger cracks began to show up all over it. I also heard two pairs of footsteps coming in from the left alleyway. I looked through my bag at my hip and found what I was looking for. I stuffed the Boltgun full of nails and glass pieces, and then I began to rapidly crank the Boltgun's reload mechanism. The more the spring tightens, the heavier the strain on the metal and the more cracks appear on the whole body. I then threw my gun into the alleyway and ducked behind the corner. Just the slightest bump would already be too much for my bolt gun to handle.

"What the hell?" "What is that?" I hear both thugs exclaim in surprise at seeing what I threw at them. The moment the Bolt gun hit the ground, it violently burst into multiple sharp pieces of metal, glass, and nails. Essentially, what I threw at them was comparable to a shrapnel grenade.

I heard multiple noises of things hitting the walls with extreme force. I also heard the noise of two heavy things hitting the ground. When I was sure that everything was safe, I took a small peak from around the corner, and I saw two bodies lying on the ground, forming a blood puddle around them both. One was almost unrecognizable due to its cuts. I looked down and saw a piece of metal lodged in his chest around his lung and heart area. I looked at the other body and saw him still breathing, but his face was destroyed. Only one eye remained unburst, and it was looking at me with pure hatred. I started looting the first body while ignoring the second guy's heavy, wet coughs.

"W..w..we (cough) will find you and (cough) Kill you. All the gangs (cough) will go to war for a healer tinker(cough)," the guy spat out his threat. I looked back at him with dispassionate eyes. Why do I feel so empty?

"Yeah, if the other gangs find out that I can heal, I won't know a day of peace. But only Mac and Mark know of my full capabilities, and I trust them to keep that to themselves. The rest of the camp only knows me as a food tinker. So did you guys. The only reason you know more is because I told you myself that I could heal. Maybe this secret won't last, but the only loose strings here are you and possibly the skinny one if he hasn't bled to death already, that is." I told him plainly while I stood up and finished taking the gun and wallet of the dead man.

I looked down at the mutilated man before me. "I hate this. I hate that you guys made me do this, but I had no choice. You were going to chain me down in some basement to forcefully enslave me as your pet tinker. not only that, you also targeted the trainyard camp, shooting Mike in the leg. He wasn't even your target." I calmly laid out my problems with their group's last living member.

"D..(cough) Don't think the big boss won't (cough) find you for this (cough)." The thug gurgled out, blood leaking out of his mouth.

"For all that it's worth, I'm sorry it had to come to this. I just value my second chance at life very highly. If you are lucky or unlucky. Maybe you'll get another chance, too? who knows?" I said while I shrugged my shoulders. I heard the man before me laughing, a laugh-filled with gurgling noises and laborious breaths.

"Hehehe(cough) S..second Life?(cough)...I knew it…. you are just (cough) another crazy cape," he wheezed out while coughing, and then he suddenly stopped. His one eye glazed over, and he stopped breathing. I looked up at the red burning marks of the broken moon and sighed out loud in exhaustion.

"Perhaps you are right," I said out loud before looting his corpse for another wallet and a phone. When I'm done with him, I will search the other two bodies for cash and other useful trinkets. I will have to go into hiding after this fiasco. I can't return to Mac's place for fear of the other gangs looking for me, and I can't go downtown with how I currently look. I will have to lay low for a few days, deeper within the docks, waiting until the heat has died down, and then I can buy some new clothes with my newly "acquired" funds.

 

[Hexilios]

Picture taken during the active launch of the F-Driver weapon of Parahuman: (String Theory).
Picture Provided by Parahuman: (Dragon) from a Simurgh watch post.