Elias woke before dawn, a habit ingrained from years of needing to be one step ahead of the day's demands. For a fleeting, disoriented moment, the events of the previous night felt like an elaborate, stress-induced hallucination. Then he opened his eyes.
The translucent blue rectangle of the System interface was still there, hovering silently near his bedside, its gentle glow casting faint, ethereal patterns on the ceiling. It wasn't a dream.
[System Status: Optimal. Host Unit Energy: 100/100. Awaiting Command.]
A slow exhale escaped him. It was real. The headache, the vision, the impossible promises – all real. He sat up, the coarse wool blanket pooling around his waist, and simply stared at the display. The fear from last night had mostly receded, replaced by a sharpened, almost unnervingly clear focus. This wasn't something to be scared of; it was something to be understood. Mastered.
He spent the next hour before the city truly stirred in quiet contemplation, probing the limits of his current understanding of the System. He couldn't physically interact with the display, but his focused intent seemed to navigate its rudimentary menus. He re-read the descriptions of the Barbarian, Archer, and Goblin units, committing their details to memory. The "Cost: Energy Points" seemed crucial. 100 points to start, 10 for a Barbarian or Archer, 5 for a Goblin. That meant he could, theoretically, empower ten Barbarians or twenty Goblins before needing to replenish. How did it replenish?
[System Energy replenishes automatically. Current Rate: 1 Point per standard solar cycle (24 hours). Rate can be improved via System upgrades or acquisition of potent energy sources.]
The information appeared as if the System had plucked the query from his thoughts. One point a day. Pathetic. At that rate, after creating a single Barbarian, he'd be waiting ten days to make another. This implied that the initial 100 points were a significant starting boon. It also hinted at future complexity – 'System upgrades,' 'potent energy sources.' The scope of this thing… it was vast.
He tried to access information on 'Prime Conduits' or 'Marvel Characters,' but the System returned a neutral: [Insufficient Data or Access Level. Further information will be unlocked as relevant criteria are met.] So, some secrets remained veiled. Fair enough. He had enough to contend with for now.
The city was awakening. The distant rumble of a tram, the clatter of milk bottles on a nearby stoop, the first hesitant coughs from neighbouring apartments. Thomas MacIntyre would arrive around eight.
Elias rose, performed his morning ablutions with a precision that had become second nature, and dressed in his usual attire – dark trousers, a crisp white shirt, a neatly knotted tie, and a woollen vest. He looked in the mirror. The same pale, serious face stared back, the same observant grey eyes. But today, there was a flicker deep within them, a spark of something new. Something hungry.
He didn't prepare breakfast. His appetite had vanished, replaced by a thrumming anticipation that tightened his stomach. He reviewed his ledgers again, but the numbers felt flat, mundane. His real accounting now involved 'Energy Points' and potential human assets.
At precisely three minutes past eight, a firm, respectful knock sounded at his apartment door.
"Come in, Thomas," Elias called, his voice preternaturally calm.
The door opened and Thomas MacIntyre entered, cap in hand. He was a man carved from Highland granite, well into his fifties but still ramrod straight, with a weathered face, a neatly trimmed grey moustache, and eyes the pale blue of a winter sky. He carried a small, battered toolbox.
"Morning, Mr. Thorne. Apologies if I'm a mite early." His Scottish burr was thick but understandable, a comforting sound from Elias's childhood.
"Not at all, Thomas. Punctual as ever." Elias gestured towards the small table where he usually took his meals. "The boiler in the west wing, units 12 and 14 are complaining of intermittent heat again."
"Aye, the old beast's groaning more than usual," Thomas said, placing his cap on the table. "I've a suspicion it's the thermocouple connection flaring up again. A bit of a cleaning, maybe a new washer, should set it right for a while. But she's on her last legs, that one, sir. We'll need to budget for a replacement come spring, I reckon."
Elias nodded. "I've already made inquiries. The cost is… substantial." He paused, watching Thomas closely. The man's demeanour was open, his gaze direct. There was an unshakeable honesty about him, a loyalty forged not through fear or obligation, but genuine respect and, Elias suspected, a deep-seated affection for the boy who had, in many ways, grown up under his taciturn watch. The System's criteria for the 100% power transfer revolved around this loyalty being "verified prior to empowerment." He felt a sliver of doubt – how could he verify it?
As if sensing his unspoken query, a tiny new icon pulsed faintly on the System display, visible only to Elias. It was a stylized silhouette of a person with a percentage beneath it. He focused his intent on Thomas.
[Subject: Thomas MacIntyre. Loyalty to Host Unit: 100% (Absolute, Paternal/Guardian Sub-Routine). Viable for Symbiotic Empowerment.]
Elias's breath caught. Paternal/Guardian Sub-Routine. The System could even categorize the nature of the loyalty. So, his instinct had been correct. He met Thomas's gaze again, the slight internal tremor of apprehension giving way to resolve.
"Thomas," he began, his tone shifting subtly, drawing the older man's full attention. "Before you attend to the boiler… there's something else. Something… extraordinary I need to discuss with you. And perhaps, demonstrate."
Thomas's brow furrowed slightly. "Extraordinary, sir?"
Elias gestured for him to sit. Thomas, after a moment's hesitation, pulled out the simple wooden chair and sat, his back still perfectly straight, his hands resting on his knees.
"What I'm about to tell you, and potentially show you, will sound impossible. It may even frighten you. I need your absolute trust, Thomas. More than ever before."
The older man's gaze didn't waver. "You've always had it, Mr. Thorne. Since you were a lad trying to fix your own leaky faucet and nearly flooded the pantry. You know that." A rare, faint smile touched Thomas's lips at the memory.
Elias allowed himself a small, reciprocal smile. "I do. Thank you, Thomas." He took a steadying breath. How to phrase this? The truth was too outlandish. A partial truth, then. "I've come into… an ability, of sorts. A way to unlock potential in others. A profound potential."
Thomas blinked. "An ability, sir? Like… like one of those stage magicians?"
"Not quite," Elias said, a ghost of amusement in his voice. "Something far more… fundamental. Thomas, I believe I can grant you strength. Strength beyond what any normal man possesses."
The Scotsman stared, his expression shifting from polite attentiveness to distinct puzzlement. "Strength, Mr. Thorne? I'm not as young as I was, but I can still haul a sack of coal with the best of 'em."
"More than that, Thomas. Much more." Elias rose and stood before the older man. The System display seemed to intensify its glow, though only he could see it. The 'Barbarian' option was highlighted. [Cost: 10 Energy Points. Confirm Empowerment of Thomas MacIntyre with Barbarian Unit - Level 1?]
"This will be… intense," Elias said, his voice dropping lower. "But I believe you have the fortitude to withstand it. And it will make you… more. Do you trust me, Thomas?"
The silence stretched for a moment, filled only by the distant ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway. Thomas's pale blue eyes searched Elias's, looking for any hint of deceit, of madness. He saw only a young man he'd known his whole life, a young man with an old soul and an unnerving intensity.
"Aye, Mr. Thorne," Thomas said finally, his voice firm. "I trust you."
A small, almost imperceptible nod from Elias. This was it. The Rubicon.
System, confirm empowerment.
His mental command was decisive. He focused his will, as the System had instructed, envisioning strength, raw power, flowing from him into Thomas.
[Empowerment Initiated. Channelling… Energy Cost: 10 Units. Remaining Energy: 90/100.]
The air in the small apartment suddenly felt thick, charged, like the moments before a lightning strike. Elias felt a slight drain, a tug from somewhere deep within him, not unpleasant but definite, like a siphon had been opened.
Thomas gasped.
His body, wiry and tough from years of labour, suddenly went rigid. His eyes widened, not in fear, but in shocked surprise. A faint, almost invisible golden aura, shot through with crimson flecks, shimmered into existence around him, clinging to his form like a second skin.
"Mr… Thorne…?" Thomas ground out; his voice strained. Veins began to stand out on his neck and temples. His knuckles, gripping his knees, were white. He wasn't screaming, but his breath was coming in harsh, ragged bursts.
Elias watched, his expression unreadable, fascinated and terrified in equal measure. He could feel it, a subtle thrumming in the air, a vibration that resonated in his bones.
Thomas's work-worn shirt began to strain. The fabric across his shoulders and chest tightened, seams groaning. A low growl, guttural and primal, escaped his lips. It wasn't a sound Elias had ever imagined Thomas MacIntyre making. His muscles, lean but not exceptionally large, were visibly expanding. Bulging. Thickening with impossible speed.
The crimson flecks in the golden aura intensified, swirling faster.
Thomas's hands, which had been gripping his knees, now clenched into fists so tight they trembled. The cheap wooden chair beneath him creaked ominously under a sudden, new pressure.
"God Almighty…" Thomas rasped, his head thrown back, eyes screwed shut. His face was contorted, a mask of agonizing effort and dawning, terrifying power. Sweat beaded on his forehead, mingling with the dust motes dancing in the weak morning light.
Elias could see it. The sinews in Thomas's arms becoming thicker, more defined, like bundled cables. His shoulders broadening, his neck thickening. It wasn't just a cosmetic change; it was a fundamental restructuring, happening in mere seconds.
This is what the System meant by 'moderate physical transformation,' Elias thought, a clinical observation cutting through the sheer spectacle.
Then, as Thomas's body reached a new equilibrium, a new sensation flooded Elias.
It was like a switch had been flipped. A warm, potent energy surged into him, originating from Thomas but somehow… refined, through the System. It wasn't the draining sensation of initiating the empowerment; this was a pure gain. He felt his own muscles tense, not unpleasantly, but as if they were being infused with new vitality. Aches he hadn't even been aware of vanished. His senses sharpened – the scent of old paper from his books, the faint aroma of pipe tobacco on Thomas's clothes, the subtle taste of dust in the air – all became more vivid, more distinct.
He felt… stronger. Substantially stronger. Like a live wire had been connected directly to his core.
[Loyalty Symbiosis Protocol Successful. 100% Power Transfer from Unit Thomas MacIntyre (Barbarian Lv.1) to Host Unit.]
[Host Power: 1.0 -> 3.0 (Strength Quotient: +200%, Durability Quotient: +150%, Stamina Quotient: +180% - Baseline: Adult Male Average)]
[Warning: Sudden physiological enhancement may cause disorientation. Adaptation period recommended.]
Three times his previous power. Not just strength, but durability, stamina. Elias flexed his fingers. They felt different. Denser. Capable.
The aura around Thomas slowly faded. The older man slumped forward slightly, panting, his chest heaving. His shirt was now ridiculously tight, the buttons strained to their limits. He looked down at his hands, flexing them slowly. They were thicker, the knuckles more prominent, the veins like cords beneath the skin.
"Sweet Mother Mary…" he whispered, his voice raw, looking up at Elias with wide, disbelieving eyes. "What… what in God's name did you do to me, lad?"
Elias walked over to the small sink in the corner of his kitchen area, picked up a heavy cast-iron skillet, one he occasionally used when he felt ambitious enough to cook more than bread and cheese. He offered it to Thomas.
"Try this," he said, his voice calm.
Thomas looked at the skillet, then back at Elias, then slowly reached out. His newly augmented hand closed around the handle. With an almost casual effort, his fingers began to bend the thick iron. The metal groaned, then warped, twisting into a crude spiral as if it were soft clay.
Thomas stared at the ruined skillet in his hand, his jaw slack. He dropped it with a clatter.
"I…" He looked at his hands again, then at Elias, a maelstrom of emotions – awe, fear, confusion – swirling in his gaze. "I'm… strong. Stronger than I've ever been. Stronger than any man ought to be."
"Yes," Elias said. He stepped closer. "You are, Thomas. And so, it appears, am I."
He focused on the small, rolled-up rug by his desk. It wasn't excessively heavy, perhaps thirty pounds. Previously, lifting it would have been a minor effort. Now, he reached down, his fingers closing around it. He lifted. It felt like picking up a newspaper. There was an ease, a lack of strain that was entirely new. He could probably throw it across the room with one hand.
The understanding of what this meant, what he'd gained, settled into him, not with a jolt, but with a profound, chilling clarity.
Thomas, still grappling with his own transformation, pushed himself to his feet. He swayed slightly, then steadied. He was noticeably broader, his posture somehow more formidable, radiating a raw, physical presence he hadn't possessed minutes earlier.
"You… you got this from me?" Thomas asked, his gaze sharp despite the shock. "When you… did that… thing?"
"In a manner of speaking," Elias admitted. He wouldn't explain the 100% transfer due to loyalty. Not yet. Simpler to let Thomas believe it was a side effect of Elias's own "ability." "My… gift… it resonates. What I give, I also partly receive."
Thomas ran a hand over his now much more muscular arm. "This is… it's beyond belief, Mr. Thorne. What is this? Witchcraft?"
"Not witchcraft, Thomas," Elias said, his voice firm. "Think of it as… tapping into a hidden well. A power that lies dormant in all of us. I've just found the key." It was a plausible, if vague, explanation. Good enough for now.
"And you can do this… for others?"
"Yes. Though there is a cost to me each time. It's not something I can do lightly, or often, without… recovery." This was to manage expectations, to ensure Thomas understood it wasn't an unlimited fountain. He noted the System showed his Energy at 90/100. It hadn't visibly decreased further after the initial 10-point cost, which made sense – the power gain for Elias was a separate protocol.
Thomas looked around the small apartment, then back at Elias, his expression one of deep gravity. "This power, lad… it changes things. It changes everything. What do you intend to do with it?"
This was the crucial question. Elias met his gaze squarely.
"I intend to secure our future, Thomas. My future. Your future. In a world that's becoming increasingly unstable, power is the only true currency. This city, this country… it's teetering. Men are desperate. And desperate men do desperate things."
He thought of the gangs, the grasping politicians, the pervasive rot he saw everywhere. With men like Thomas, enhanced, loyal, he could carve out a sanctuary. More than that, an empire.
"The properties," Elias continued, his mind already several steps ahead, "are a foundation. But we need more than bricks and mortar for true security. We need strength. We need influence. We need men we can trust, augmented by this… gift."
Thomas nodded slowly, the initial shock wearing off, replaced by a grim understanding. He was a soldier, at heart. He understood chains of command, the need for strength, the value of loyalty.
"You'll need loyal men," Thomas stated, his voice now gruffer, imbued with some of the Barbarian's primal resonance. "Men who won't abuse this. Men who understand who gave it to them."
"Precisely," Elias said. "And you, Thomas, are the first. My right hand."
A flicker of pride, fierce and sudden, lit Thomas's eyes. He straightened further, if that were possible. "I won't fail you, Mr. Thorne. You know I wouldn't. Not then, not now."
"I know." Elias looked at Thomas's strained shirt. "We'll need to get you some new clothes, for a start. Something… sturdier. And you'll need to acclimate to your new… capabilities. Discretion is paramount. No displays, not yet. Until we're ready."
"Aye, discretion." Thomas flexed his hands again, a thoughtful expression on his face. "About that boiler in the west wing…"
Elias almost smiled. Even enhanced to superhuman levels, Thomas was still the diligent groundskeeper. "Perhaps your new… perspective… might help you diagnose the issue more effectively."
A slow grin spread across Thomas's face, a startlingly feral expression on his now more rugged features. "I reckon it might at that, sir. I reckon it bloody well might."
He picked up his old toolbox. It looked like a child's toy in his augmented grip. He paused at the door.
"Mr. Thorne?"
"Yes, Thomas?"
"Thank you. For this… this trust. Whatever it is."
Elias simply nodded. "You've earned it, Thomas. Now, go. And be careful."
After Thomas left, the apartment felt profoundly quiet. Elias walked to his mirror again. He looked the same – no sudden muscle growth for him, it seemed. The System's power transfer was clearly more subtle for the Host, internal rather than overtly physical, at least at this stage. But he felt different. A vibrancy, a solidity. He pressed his thumb against the old wooden frame of the mirror. He felt the grain, the give of the aged wood, with a new clarity. He pressed harder. A faint creak. He could, he realized with a jolt, probably shatter this frame with one hand if he wished.
He looked at the System display, now showing his Power at 3.0. The path ahead was still shrouded in fog, but for the first time, Elias felt he had a lamp to carry, and a sturdy shield.
His next thought: who would be next? He needed more than just raw strength. He needed finesse, perhaps intelligence. The Archer class, with its enhanced eyesight and accuracy, might be useful for information gathering. The Goblin, for 'acquiring material wealth' – a more delicate euphemism for theft and resourcefulness. He needed a varied force.
His eyes fell on the ledger again. Dubois, three dollars short. He had crossed out the debt. A small gesture of… what? Goodwill? Or an investment? Could a man like Dubois, down on his luck, be made loyal enough for the 100% transfer? Unlikely. The 10% gain was still valuable, though. Ten such men would double his own power.
The numbers were starting to sing a new song, a melody of escalating power and expanding possibilities. The 1930s, a decade of despair for so many, was suddenly looking very different for Elias Thorne. It was looking like a beginning.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
guys check out my pàtreon : https://pa-tr-eo-n.com/hellothere2024
(remove - from the link).
i have uploaded the whole novel there. and my next novel will be first uploaded there.(it will be a daily upload novel). just 2 or 3 members can elevate my lifestyle my a lot and increase my interest in writing these novels.[ use code to get 80% off first month :WN1144C]