Chapter 37: "Automatic Restart, They Said. It'll Be Fine, They Said."
In which I step into an inactive dimensional gate at exactly the wrong time, accidentally unlock my ghost powers, and Asterion is annoyingly unsurprised by spontaneous DNA rewiring.
So, remember how some kids get bikes or game consoles from their parents?
Yeah.
Mine built a gateway to another dimension.
To be fair, it wasn't like Garrick and Selene Mercer woke up one morning, stretched, and said:
"Let's casually rip a hole in reality today."
No.
This had been years in the making.
The big project.
The Holy Grail of ghost science.
And now...
it was finished.
Mostly.
The massive Ghost Portal dominated one wall of the laboratory, surrounded by reinforced metal, cables, monitoring stations, capacitor banks, and enough warning signs to make any reasonable person reconsider entering the building.
The portal itself wasn't fully active yet.
That was important.
The circular gateway gave off only a faint green standby glow, humming quietly while its systems completed their final diagnostics.
The first proper sustained activation was scheduled after the machine finished automatically calibrating itself.
Which meant that technically...
we had built a door to another dimension.
We just hadn't opened it yet.
I stood in the middle of our lab-turned-sci-fi-battleship and stared at it.
Well.
This is going to go terribly wrong at some point.
My parents were practically bouncing with pride.
Mom was grinning like she'd personally defeated physics.
Dad looked like he wanted to high-five the universe.
And then possibly wrestle it.
They'd been working on this for so long that I'd almost forgotten the end goal involved deliberately opening a hole between our world and a dimension full of dead people.
Normal family stuff.
They called it the ultimate solution to Havenbrook's ghost problem.
The idea was simple.
Relatively.
If spirits were entering our world through unstable breaches, then a controlled gateway would give Mom and Dad a stable point of access.
A ghost showed up uninvited?
Capture it.
Send it back.
Close the door.
Ghost problem solved.
On paper?
Genius.
In practice?
Well...
have you ever built a laser-guided dimensional ghost funnel and hoped reality didn't explode?
Didn't think so.
Asterion actually approved.
Mostly.
He'd spent enough time studying Mom and Dad's work to understand exactly what they were trying to accomplish.
"A controlled passage is easier to defend than dozens of unpredictable tears," he said inside my head.
"That sounded suspiciously supportive."
"Because the principle is sound."
I looked toward the portal.
"Your world had stuff like this?"
A brief pause.
"We had controlled planar gates."
Of course they did.
Cultivators apparently looked at impossible science-fiction concepts and went:
Tuesday.
"If hostile entities are forced through predictable routes, defense becomes considerably simpler," Asterion continued.
"Sounds great."
"Until the route fails."
I slowly looked upward.
"Why would you add that part?"
"Because pretending systems cannot fail is how people die."
Fair.
Depressing.
But fair.
The portal gave another soft pulse.
Green light reflected across the metal floor.
There was something surreal about it.
This wasn't just another machine.
It was a line.
A border.
A glowing, humming, probably haunted line between two worlds.
Ghosts had always been real.
But now?
Now they had a front door.
You'd think that after completing a door to Ghostville, my parents would take a break.
Maybe sleep.
Vacation.
Disney World.
The Bahamas.
Nope.
The Mercer method of relaxation involved throwing a party so loud that the dead probably heard it from the other side.
I'll admit...
it wasn't bad.
There was cake.
Green icing, obviously.
Ghost-shaped cookies.
Mercer Industries prototypes displayed on tables.
Several researchers.
City officials.
One government environmental inspector who looked like he wanted to arrest the entire building.
Even Lena smiled.
And Lena was basically allergic to parties unless somebody had published a peer-reviewed paper during one.
Mom kept walking around with that proud sparkle in her eyes like she'd just cured cancer and invented hoverboards on the same afternoon.
Dad nearly hugged the mayor unconscious.
Literally.
We had to separate them before Havenbrook needed a special election because Garrick Mercer had accidentally killed public office with affection.
People raised glasses.
"To the future of spectral science!"
Some researcher from Wisconsin tried dancing with an automated vacuum cleaner.
I may or may not have encouraged him.
Okay.
I definitely did.
But eventually, the night wound down.
Food disappeared.
Music softened.
Guests either left or crashed around the house.
Sleeping bags.
Sofas.
Guest rooms.
One guy fell asleep sitting upright beside the snack table with a ghost cookie still in his hand.
Lena eventually went upstairs muttering something about REM cycles.
Mom and Dad finally went to bed too.
Before leaving the lab, Mom checked the portal's diagnostic display one final time.
"Capacitor temperature is still a little high."
Dad leaned over her shoulder.
"Auto-calibration will finish once the system reaches safe operating temperature."
Mom nodded.
"The computer will run the final synchronization test automatically."
Dad grinned.
"Then tomorrow—"
He spread his arms.
"—we open the door!"
I hadn't really been listening.
In my defense?
There had been cake.
A lot of cake.
Eventually...
only the quiet hum of the portal remained.
Let me start by saying:
I was not trying to become a half-dead glowing superhero that night.
I wasn't attempting to unlock hidden powers.
I wasn't following instructions from Asterion.
I wasn't participating in some ancient destiny ritual.
I couldn't even blame Toby.
This one?
Pure accident.
The house had gone quiet.
I couldn't sleep.
My bruises from the Derek fight had reached that wonderful stage where every sleeping position somehow hurt a different body part.
So eventually I wandered downstairs.
The lab lights were dim.
Most of the equipment had entered standby mode.
And the Ghost Portal sat silently against the far wall.
Inactive.
Mostly dark.
Harmless-looking.
Which, in retrospect, should have terrified me.
I was wearing the light blue-gray protective suit Mom had made for lab work—the same general design that had eventually inspired parts of my combat gear.
Flexible.
Insulated.
Spectral-resistant.
Built specifically so I could exist in the lab without Dad accidentally irradiating me with something called a "harmless ecto-burst."
Apparently Mom had opinions about his definition of harmless.
I walked closer to the gate.
"No glowing doorway yet."
Asterion didn't answer.
Odd.
Normally he had something sarcastic ready.
I glanced toward the main diagnostic display.
PORTAL STATUS: STANDBY
Good.
Then I noticed something blinking near the bottom of the tunnel.
A small cylindrical device.
Green indicator light.
One of Mom's internal calibration probes.
"Oh."
I remembered Dad knocking something off a workbench during the party.
Apparently it had rolled inside.
The probe wasn't just some random tool.
It was part of the portal's interior sensor network.
Specifically, the system that calibrated spatial depth and checked whether anything was occupying the gate before activation.
And right now?
It was lying loose on the floor.
Its light blinking red-green-red-green.
I walked to the mouth of the portal.
"No way Mom wants that sitting there during tomorrow's test."
Still nothing from Asterion.
That should've been clue number two.
The gate wasn't running.
The diagnostic display said standby.
The emitters were dark.
So...
I stepped inside.
Yeah.
Yeah.
I know.
In hindsight?
Do not enter the dimensional portal.
Great rule.
Should probably put it on a shirt.
But at the time, I was just retrieving a sensor from an inactive machine.
I crouched down.
Picked up the probe.
"Got you."
The moment I lifted it—
something behind me beeped.
Once.
I froze.
Then twice.
My stomach dropped.
The laboratory computer came alive.
Displays lit up one after another.
CAPACITOR TEMPERATURE: NOMINAL
Oh.
Oh no.
AUTOMATIC CALIBRATION RESUMING
"No."
Another display activated.
INTERNAL OCCUPANCY SENSOR: NO SIGNAL
Right.
Because I was holding it.
The probe that was supposed to tell the machine someone was standing inside the portal...
was currently in my hand.
"That's bad."
The system interpreted the missing sensor reading as an empty chamber.
A design problem Mom was going to have opinions about later.
FINAL PHASE SYNCHRONIZATION BEGINNING
"NO NO NO NO—"
I turned toward the exit.
Warning lights flashed.
Somewhere inside my mind, Asterion finally spoke.
Very quietly.
"So this is the moment."
I didn't have time to process that.
"What moment?!"
THREE.
The portal emitters began charging.
I ran.
TWO.
Green light erupted around the frame.
"ASTERION!"
"Move."
"I'M TRYING!"
ONE.
I was less than two steps from the edge.
The Ghost Portal turned on.
And reality punched me in every cell at once.
WHOOOOOOOOOSH!
Green-white energy exploded through the chamber.
Not around me.
Through me.
The portal had been designed to concentrate enormous quantities of ectoplasmic energy into a single stable dimensional aperture.
Normally that energy would establish the passage.
Except now?
There was a human body standing directly inside the focal point.
Mine.
I couldn't move.
Couldn't scream.
Couldn't even breathe.
Every muscle locked.
My back arched.
My fingers spread.
And suddenly—
I saw my skeleton.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
My entire body became a glowing negative image against the green inferno.
Bones shining electric blue.
Nerves lighting up.
Blood becoming streaks of impossible light.
For one horrible instant...
I thought I had died.
Then something deeper happened.
The energy didn't simply burn me.
It entered me.
Every cell.
Every strand of DNA.
Every piece of whatever separated my physical body from the spiritual world.
The portal couldn't create a stable opening because I was occupying the opening.
So all that concentrated spectral energy—
energy meant to bridge two dimensions—
used me as the bridge instead.
My body began changing.
Rewriting.
Human cells saturated with ectoplasmic energy.
Physical DNA forced to stabilize alongside a spectral pattern.
Matter and spirit being welded together at the most basic level.
I couldn't understand any of that at the time.
Mostly because my brain was screaming:
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—
Asterion's voice cut through the chaos.
Not commanding.
Not controlling.
Just there.
"Evan."
I couldn't answer.
"Don't fight the change."
Great advice.
Wish I'd known how.
"Your body is adapting on its own."
Another wave ripped through me.
"Interfering now would only make it worse."
That was the important part.
Asterion wasn't doing this.
He wasn't stabilizing me.
Wasn't feeding me ki.
Wasn't altering the result.
He was watching something that had already begun.
Something that would've happened whether he'd ever entered my life or not.
Later, he'd explain that he'd known this event existed somewhere in my fate.
A fixed turning point.
He hadn't known every stupid detail.
Hadn't known about the loose sensor.
The automatic restart.
The exact second I'd walk inside.
But he'd known that one day, somehow...
Evan Mercer would stand inside this gate when it opened.
This wasn't Asterion's plan.
It was mine.
Or Mom's.
Or Dad's.
Or fate's.
Honestly?
Mostly bad engineering.
The energy climbed higher.
Then—
something clicked.
Pain vanished.
Just...
stopped.
The ectoplasmic current that had been ripping through me suddenly felt different.
Not foreign.
Not exactly.
It flowed through my body like it belonged there.
My heartbeat slowed.
Then skipped.
Then resumed with a strange second rhythm underneath it.
My senses exploded outward.
I could hear the electrical hum inside the walls.
The grass moving outside.
Someone snoring upstairs.
Every current of spiritual energy inside the laboratory.
The world felt sharper.
Bigger.
Closer.
The light finally died.
The portal shut down.
And I dropped to my knees.
Smoke curled from my suit.
My hands trembled.
I raised my head.
The polished metal beside the gate reflected someone back at me.
White hair.
Not blond.
Not pale.
Snow white.
Eyes glowing bright radioactive green.
My skin looked slightly different under the laboratory lights.
And the emblem built into my suit's chest was glowing neon green from energy it definitely had not been designed to contain.
I stared.
The reflection stared back.
I didn't feel human.
But...
I didn't feel dead either.
I felt—
new.
Asterion appeared beside me in spiritual form.
For once...
he wasn't smiling.
He simply looked at me.
Studying.
Confirming.
Then he exhaled.
"Evan Mercer."
I swallowed.
"What..."
My voice echoed faintly.
That was new.
"...just happened to me?"
Asterion's eyes moved toward the dormant portal.
Then back to me.
"The gate rewrote you."
That's never a comforting sentence.
"What does that mean?"
"You were standing inside a device designed to force two planes of existence into contact."
He crouched beside me.
"Instead of forming the bridge around empty space..."
His eyes met mine.
"...it formed one through you."
I looked at my glowing hands.
"So I'm..."
Asterion nodded.
"Part human."
A pause.
"Part spirit."
My brain stopped.
Then rebooted.
Then stopped again.
"So..."
I pointed toward myself.
"Half ghost?"
"Essentially."
I stared at him.
Asterion's expression finally softened.
"There are easier ways to develop one's potential."
"YOU KNEW?!"
"I knew this transformation was part of your fate."
My jaw dropped.
"You could have warned me!"
"No."
That shut me up.
Asterion's voice remained calm.
"If I hadn't been here, you still would've entered this laboratory tonight."
I stared.
"The probe still would've fallen."
He gestured toward it.
"The system still would've restarted."
"The portal still would've activated."
Then:
"And you still would've been standing inside it."
My anger stumbled.
"This moment belongs to your life, Evan."
Asterion looked toward the portal.
"Not mine."
That...
wasn't remotely comforting.
But somehow it mattered.
I stared at my reflection again.
White hair.
Green eyes.
Spectral light.
Something entirely new looking back at me.
"Great."
I swallowed.
"So what's the medical term for this?"
Asterion thought.
"Catastrophic spiritual-biological phase integration."
I stared.
"Half ghost."
"Half ghost is easier."
"Thank you."
Hovering in midair was not something health class had prepared me for.
I mean...
I've had strange days.
Gotten slammed into lockers.
Nearly broken my nose against Derek's elbow.
Once got stuck in a garbage chute during orientation.
But this?
Next-level weird.
I wasn't standing.
Wasn't sitting.
Wasn't falling.
I was just...
there.
Floating.
Like somebody had quietly turned gravity off specifically for me.
Below, the portal hummed faintly in standby after apparently finishing its nightly task of baking one brand-new supernatural teenager.
Asterion floated beside me.
Effortlessly.
Which felt insulting now.
He studied the way I was drifting sideways.
"Stop fighting the air."
"I'm not fighting anything!"
"You are somehow losing."
"I HAVE NEVER FLOATED BEFORE."
"Clearly."
I waved my arms.
Bad idea.
I rotated slowly upside down.
"Oh, come on."
Asterion's mouth twitched.
"Not bad."
"Not bad?!"
I finally managed to turn upright.
"You said the portal rewrote my biology!"
"Yes."
"And you're saying that like Mom changed the Wi-Fi password!"
Asterion folded his arms.
"Panicking won't reverse it."
"I WOULD STILL LIKE TO SCHEDULE SOME PANICKING."
"Later."
I looked down at myself.
Still glowing.
"So..."
Deep breath.
"Am I dead?"
"No."
"Definitely?"
"You're breathing."
"Ghosts can probably fake that."
"Your heart is beating."
"Can ghosts—"
"Evan."
"Right."
Asterion pointed toward me.
"You're alive."
Then:
"But you're no longer entirely human."
My stomach dropped again.
"The spectral energy altered both your physical and spiritual structure."
"So..."
I swallowed.
"Half human."
"Yes."
"Half ghost."
"Close enough."
I stared.
"Like boo, I'm haunting your sock drawer ghost?"
Asterion's eyebrow rose.
"If that's how you choose to use this transformation, I'll personally throw you back into the portal."
Fair.
Then he pointed toward the wall.
"Go through that."
I followed his finger.
"The wall."
"Yes."
"Walk through it."
I stared at him.
"Do I look like a magician?"
Asterion simply waited.
Right.
White hair.
Green eyes.
Floating.
Fine.
I aimed myself toward the nearest wall.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Every instinct in my body screamed:
WALL. SOLID. BAD.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Then—
nothing.
No impact.
No broken nose.
I opened one eye.
I was halfway through the wall.
I screamed.
"WHAT—"
My concentration broke.
I shot forward and emerged into the hallway.
Then immediately spun around and flew straight back through.
"OKAY!"
I pointed at the wall.
"Okay!"
Asterion looked deeply unimpressed by architecture.
"That was a WALL!"
"Correct."
"I PHASED THROUGH IT!"
"Intangibility."
He nodded.
"A common spectral ability."
"COMMON?!"
"You'll adjust."
"I just ignored MATTER."
He moved on.
"Try the wrench."
There was one lying on the workbench.
I stared.
"What about it?"
"Lift it."
I floated over.
Reached down.
Asterion stopped me.
"Without touching it."
I slowly looked back at him.
"Naturally."
I focused on the wrench.
Nothing.
Focused harder.
Still nothing.
Then...
something shifted inside me.
Not muscle.
Not ki.
Different.
Cold and electric.
I reached for the wrench without reaching.
And felt it.
Like an invisible extension of my hand.
The wrench trembled.
Then rose.
Slowly.
Wobbling.
My mouth dropped open.
"Oh-ho-ho."
The wrench rotated.
"Telekinesis."
I grinned.
"Sweet."
"Basic."
"Don't ruin this for me."
Asterion began circling slowly.
"Your spectral nature will likely develop several abilities."
"Such as?"
"Intangibility."
"Got that."
"Flight."
I looked down.
"Unfortunately."
"Enhanced senses."
"Definitely."
"Energy projection, eventually."
That got my attention.
"Energy blasts?"
"Probably."
"YES."
"Control yourself."
"No."
Asterion continued.
"Illusions may develop."
"Cool."
"Fear effects."
"Less cool."
"Possession."
I froze.
"Possession?"
He looked directly at me.
"Do not attempt that."
"Wasn't planning to!"
"Good."
"What happens if I do?"
"You're entering another person's body and potentially interfering with their mind."
I paused.
"Right."
Yeah.
That sounded considerably less funny when phrased accurately.
"Supervision only."
"Agreed."
There were probably more.
A lot more.
I could feel it.
The energy inside me wasn't just sitting there.
It was alive in a way.
Responsive.
Like my body had gained an entirely new set of muscles and nobody had bothered including an instruction manual.
I looked at my hands.
Then my reflection.
White hair.
Green eyes.
A faint spectral glow.
"This is insane."
Asterion drifted closer.
His expression became more serious.
"Yes."
"Very reassuring."
"These abilities aren't toys."
I looked over.
"Your body now exists closer to the boundary between physical and spiritual life than almost anyone in this world."
Asterion's eyes narrowed slightly.
"That gives you advantages."
Then:
"And vulnerabilities."
I nodded.
The excitement dimmed just enough for reality to get through.
This wasn't armor.
Wasn't a rifle.
Wasn't a technique I could simply stop using and leave on a shelf.
This was me.
My DNA.
My soul.
My body.
Changed.
Forever.
"So..."
I swallowed.
"Great power, great responsibility?"
Asterion stared at me.
Then sighed.
"Someone should write that down."
I laughed.
Couldn't help it.
And maybe I needed to.
Because otherwise?
I might've started screaming again.
But somewhere beneath the panic...
beneath the impossible biology...
beneath the fact that tomorrow morning I was somehow going to have to explain to my parents that their dimensional gateway had turned their son into a scientific category that didn't exist yesterday...
I knew one thing.
This wasn't just another weird event.
It was a dividing line.
Before the portal.
After the portal.
Everything I'd been doing—
training.
Helping people.
Fighting.
Learning.
Trying to figure out what kind of hero I wanted to become—
had prepared me for danger.
But none of it had caused this.
Asterion hadn't caused this.
The training hadn't caused this.
Destiny hadn't needed someone to push the button for me.
If Asterion Ardyn had never appeared in my life...
I still would've walked into that inactive gate.
The calibration probe still would've been loose.
The automatic system still would've resumed.
And the Ghost Portal still would've activated with Evan Mercer standing directly in the center of it.
This was mine.
My accident.
My turning point.
My life.
I looked at my glowing reflection again.
I wasn't just Evan Mercer anymore.
Not exactly.
I was still human.
Still alive.
Still me.
Just...
something more.
Something new.
And apparently?
Something that could walk through walls.
Okay.
That part was awesome.