Immediate appointment, my ass, Eryk thought, bitterness settling into his spine like an old friend. He'd been stuck in this queue for over two hours. Two people left. Then it would finally be his turn.
He raised the glass box and stared at the red prime inside. Its eyes were shut, its mouth sealed in silence, but the cryptic words it had uttered earlier still echoed in his mind:
Hundred-part harm ye bring unto thine enemy, one part ye shall recover.
He hadn't really grasped what the ability meant until the trader explained.
The talent was 1% Lifesteal. Affinity: Water.
The trader made it sound like a hidden gem, but Eryk had almost laughed him off. Heal for a measly one percent of the damage you dish out? And water affinity? He'd rather tie a rat tail to a stick and call it a wand.
But then the trader brought out the rest of his collection, and Eryk's skepticism took a hit. Some of the other primes looked pricey—expensive enough to make even a rookie like him raise a brow. Yet the man kept insisting this red prime was the one for him.
After finally letting the guy finish his pitch, it... started to make some twisted sense.
Healing was expensive. Unreasonably, soul-crushingly expensive. For someone without wealth, backing, or a magical sugar daddy, this talent could be a lifeline. Not ideal, sure. Ideally, he'd get something absurdly overpowered and strut around like some chosen one—but for a "budget build," it wasn't half bad.
More than anything, it planted a seed of hope. What would this talent become later? Could he evolve it into something terrifying? Maybe turn into an immortal vampire-type, draining enemies to fuel an unstoppable rampage?
...Probably not. But dreaming was free, and right now, his heart needed the win.
The line finally vanished. His turn.
The moment he stepped inside, he was ambushed by a tall, tanned man with a ponytail and way too much charisma.
"What's up, my man!? Come on in, sit. You want something to drink?"
"Uh… hi. Uhm…" Eryk blinked, caught off guard by the energy. "Coffee, if you have any?"
"Sure thing, my dude." The man swirled and waved a hand over a crystalline surface. A steaming cup of coffee materialized seconds later.
Eryk blinked again. Either this guy had serious flair, or he was showing off. Possibly both.
The man set the cup down in front of him and took a seat across the table. "Hang tight, I just need to check something real quick." He glanced at a portable screen, tapping at it while sipping from his own mug.
"Sure… no problem." As long as it doesn't eat into my consulting time, Eryk muttered inwardly.
Finally, the man put the screen aside and leaned forward with a smile. "Alright, let's see what you've got."
"Oh, uh, right." Eryk handed over the red orb.
The man gave it a fond look. "I like this one. Kinda reminds me of my grandpa," he said with a laugh. "What's the talent and affinity?"
"Uhm… 1% Lifesteal. Water affinity."
The man nodded, visibly impressed. "Nice. That's a solid combo, especially for someone operating solo."
Relief hit Eryk like a cool breeze. At least he hadn't been duped. Yet.
"Hang on a sec." The man turned back to his screen.
Eryk took a sip of the coffee—and nearly spat it out in shock. It was amazing. Rich, smooth, and completely unadulterated.
Okay, what kind of consulting business serves literal divine nectar? How much is this guy charging me?
The consultant turned back, eyes lighting up. "Alright. First piece of advice: find somewhere near a large body of water or, strangely enough, a desert. Water for steady growth, desert for fat paychecks. Best bet for delving is probably a fire-elemental realm—though slots there are hard to come by."
He pulled a box from beneath the desk and plunked it down. From it, he produced three scrolls and one thick textbook, all of it looking pristine and definitely not cheap. Eryk accepted the materials, marveling at the smooth vellum under his fingers.
"These," the man said, hovering his hand over the scrolls, "are ether-imprinted. Just look at them and the abilities bond to your soul."
He pointed to each scroll in turn. "First: Frog Leap. Teaches you to use hydraulic pressure for movement. Great for mobility, especially once you're used to the weird squish of water-pressure legs."
"Second: Flowing Rain Martial Arts. Comes with a Water Body tempering technique and Flowing Strike. The tempering is your generic water-based recovery and health booster. Can evolve into something great if nurtured. Sadly, doesn't include Flowing River, but if you stick with martial arts, grab that one later."
"Flowing Strike uses the momentum of water in your body to enhance attacks. Don't hit anything with it at first, though—unless you're into ruptured veins and internal bleeding. Practice in the air."
"Third spell: Squirt. Yep, really. Not flashy, not cool, but excellent for learning how to materialize and manipulate water essence. Don't waste too much time on it—just use it to get a feel for control. Later, use what you learned to create your own Create Water spell."
Then came the book.
"This is The Basics of Gathering, water edition. Read all of it."
Eryk stared at the pile. "This is… for free?"
The man looked almost offended. "For free? It's part of the consulting fee. And this is the cheap starter stuff, you can find it anywhere."
Cheap or not, it was invaluable to him.
Then the man's expression shifted. "Now... about that talent of yours."
A cold prickle ran down Eryk's back. "Something wrong?"
"I'd recommend experimenting with it—healing powers can be weird."
Eryk swallowed. "Weird how?"
"Well, for starters, what does '1% Lifesteal' even mean?" He leaned back. "What exactly did the prime say?"
Eryk tried to recall it, but his mind blanked. The consultant asked the prime himself.
Hundred-part harm ye bring unto thine enemy, one part ye shall recover.
The man sat back with a frown. "Yikes."
"Yikes?" Eryk echoed. Not reassuring.
The consultant sighed. "Okay. So—what does enemy mean? Someone you consider an enemy? Someone who considers you one? Both? Then there's recover. Recover from what? Physical injuries? Illness? What about poison? Scars? Cancer? Will it regrow a limb? Clean your bloodstream? Remove hangovers?"
Eryk blinked.
"And what's the 1% measured from? Total health? Raw damage? Let's say you stab someone in the eye and they drop dead—do you heal the same amount as if you vaporized them? Is it instant or gradual as they die? What about indirect harm? Can you set a forest on fire and heal from the suffering squirrels inside?"
Eryk stared at him, dazed.
"These are the basic healing mechanics questions," the consultant said matter-of-factly. "Your talent might be amazing. Or... frustratingly conditional. Depends on the quirks."
He tried again—asked the prime every variation of the questions he could think of.
The prime either didn't know, stayed cryptic, or just… stayed quiet.
The man handed it back with a sigh. "Honestly, I was wondering why that old trader gave you something this good and threw in a bonus. It's solid—if the conditions line up. But it's a gamble."
Then he paused. "Out of curiosity… what did you trade him for it?"
"Uh, another prime," Eryk said, still processing. "It had a farming talent. And three affinities."
The man froze. His smile curled into something between amusement and disbelief. "You're joking."
Eryk gave him a blank look.
"Oh my gods. Hold up." The man spun the screen around and pulled up a webpage. "Was it this one?"
Eryk squinted. It was some kind of auction listing.
And at the top, unmistakably, was the prime he'd traded away.
$70,000,000.
"Se—Sev—SEVENTY MILLION!?" he shouted, yanking the tablet and nearly dropping it in horror. "That—no—WHAT!? I'm gonna SUE him. I'm gonna go sue that smug bastard!"
"Sit down, man!"
"No, I'm gonna kill him!"
"I SAID SIT DOWN!"
The consultant's voice dropped, and a wave of power smacked into Eryk like a cold bucket of calm. He sank back into the chair, trembling.
Before he could launch another rant, the man fixed him with a level stare.
"Be careful what you say. You should be grateful."
"Grateful?" Eryk croaked. "For what? He scammed me out of—"
"He probably saved your life."
"…What?"
"If you'd known how valuable that thing was, you'd have been dead before sundown. There's no way to auction it off anonymously. The wrong person finds out, and they'll bury you before anyone realizes you're missing."
Not exactly the soothing words Eryk was hoping for. If anything, they just made him angrier.
"Is there anything else you want to consult me on?" Eryk growled.
"Yeah," the other man barked. "Keep your damn mouth shut. You go around claiming the association scammed you, you'll regret it. They take accusations like that very seriously."
"Figures." Eryk yanked the glass box from the man's desk, stuffed the scrolls into his pockets, and stormed out before another threat could fly.
He was still simmering with fury as he stepped out into the streets of the 25th District.
Back at his apartment, he locked the door, tossed the scrolls and prime vestige into the chest, and collapsed onto the bed. It was already dusk, and he groaned. So much for the day.
The money should've hit his account already—at least, he hoped it had. But he'd had to carry everything back himself. And the paranoia? That was a free bonus. He was convinced someone had spotted him with the prime earlier, so he took a roundabout route home, avoiding the same gate he came through and zigzagging through half the damn city.
Now he was home, aching from head to toe, tension and stress woven into his muscles like knots. Not to mention the bump on his head from this morning's little ceiling incident.
And he was starving.
Had it really been more than a day since he last ate? It explained the light-headedness.
He grabbed a bottle from the fridge, drained it, then shuffled to the hall for a refill. The shared toilet was mercifully empty, and within a minute he was back on his bed, still angry. Still tired. Still hungry.
What now?
He hadn't planned on becoming an archhuman for years. Maybe decades. After eight years of scraping by, he'd only managed to save $19,000. Not even close to buying a vestige, unless he wanted a rat tail or something equally pitiful.
And now, just like that, he had one. But he didn't feel victorious.
He felt... used.
All that suffering, the poverty, the crappy food, the zero social life—and it meant nothing. A dash of luck had bulldozed over eight years of grinding.
And yet, even in his bitterness, he knew he couldn't keep sulking. He smacked his cheeks lightly. "Thinking about this crap while hungry? Bad idea."
He needed food. Real food. Not the dehydrated sorrow they sold on street corners.
He headed toward the front door... then stopped.
Did he have to save money anymore?
He hesitated, then turned toward the contact device. But before making the call, he walked back upstairs and knocked on a familiar door.
"Coming!" came James's voice from within.
Moments later, the middle-aged man opened the door—and his jaw dropped. "Eryk!? You're alive?! Holy crapperoni, I thought you were toast!"
"Yeah, well... I made it through. Listen, about yesterday—I was a jerk. I'm sorry."
James blinked. "You're what!?" He stepped forward and wrapped Eryk in a big, unexpected hug. "Don't even sweat it. I would've lost it way earlier than you did."
"Still." Eryk gently peeled him off. "I was thinking… wanna grab dinner?"
James smiled. "I was just about to cook—"
"No," Eryk interrupted. "Let's order something."
James paused. "Uh, not to sound like a total cheapskate, but—"
"My treat."
The older man frowned. "Eryk, I can't let you—"
"James. I'm doing okay now. Really."
A few more rounds of humble protest later, James relented.
Eryk arrived at Sharon's apartment a short while later. The other apartments were too cramped for guests, and hers—though hardly luxurious—at least had room for a table.
"Sorry for the wait!" Eryk said as he entered, finding Sharon and James already seated. He'd just placed their order from a local spot and now joined them at the table. A short silence followed.
Finally, James asked hesitantly, "So... what did happen?"
Eryk scratched the back of his head. "Uh, maybe we eat first?"
They nodded. Conversation moved to safer ground—James's brother, Sharon's politics, small talk that went nowhere. Every topic fizzled before it could find a pulse.
Then came a knock on the door.
Eryk paid the delivery woman in cash and returned with enough BBQ pork to feed a small army. It smelled amazing. Nobody commented on the price, but it was clearly not budget takeout.
Eryk nearly moaned with the first bite. It had been years since he'd eaten anything this good. The stress, the fear, the rage—it all started to melt with every bite.
Sharon poured some wine, apologizing for the cheap brand. To Eryk, who'd never had alcohol, it tasted like fermented shoe polish. But hey—new experiences.
They ate, chatted a little more, and eventually, Eryk excused himself to check on his apartment. When he came back, he was ready.
Time to tell them everything.
He didn't feel nervous. Weirdly, it felt like telling a wild story at a bar. He spoke of the dark hallway, the monster, the can of beans, the sketchy insurance agent—everything. Sometimes somber, mostly hilarious. It had to be.
Only laughter made it tolerable.
He finished the tale right around the time James first saw him in the hallway. Eryk took another sip of wine, wincing.
Then James's face twisted. "Eryk!"
"What?" he hiccuped.
"You said money wasn't a problem! Don't tell me you spent your savings?"
Sharon turned, equally alarmed. "Yeah! I thought this was from the insurance!"
He smirked, leaning in dramatically. "This morning... I manifested a prime vestige."
Silence.
Then chaos. Congratulations. Handshakes. More wine.
James leaned in, eyes wide. "So what kind is it!?"
"Non-combat," Eryk said casually. "Farming talent."
A flicker of disappointment passed across their faces, but they masked it quickly.
Sharon forced a smile. "You should sell it. Use the money for education—get a better job! You could save up for a stronger vestige down the line!"
"Yeah!" James added. "Farming might be cool too! Who knows what you could grow—magic potatoes or something!"
Eryk chuckled. "Actually… I already traded it."
Their eyes darted to each other again.
"What did you get?" James asked, cautious now.
"A prime with... lifesteal. 1%. Heals me for a portion of the damage I do."
Sharon blinked. "Eryk… that's—"
"A combat vestige," he confirmed.
"Are you insane?" she snapped.
"Why would I be?"
"You should immediately trade it back for something safer!"
"I don't wanna."
James shook his head. "Dude... you're lucky to be alive. And you still haven't learned?"
"What lesson am I supposed to learn?"
"It's dangerous!" Sharon shouted, trembling. "My father and uncle both died chasing that dream! Our family went bankrupt—we never even got their bodies back!"
"I'm not a damn idiot!" Eryk snapped, louder than intended. They flinched.
James softened his tone. "Eryk… you don't really have a life."
"Oh, well thanks," he scoffed.
"I don't mean it like that. You never had a chance to live. You're rushing to throw away the one you finally have."
"And you have life all figured out, huh?" Eryk shot back. "You're both twice my age, stuck in a run-down apartment with nothing to show for it. And I'm the one throwing my life away?"
Sharon tried to interrupt, but he didn't let her. The wine had made him bold.
"I get it. You're trying to help. But you don't see things from my side. I'm done living as someone else's mule. I know I could die. But if I don't fight for my own future... then what the hell am I even living for?"
And with that, he walked toward the door.
James called out, "Eryk, wait!"
He paused.
"I know you're upset. But please... just think it through. You still have time."
Eryk turned back, his voice softer. "I said things I didn't mean. I'm tipsy. First drink, you know?"
"Still..."
"You're right, James. I don't have a life. I should be out with friends tonight. A partner. Laughing. Living. But I want more. I want meaning. I want choice. And if I have to risk everything for it... so be it."
They nodded, reluctantly.
"Good luck, then," Sharon said quietly.
James echoed, "Yeah. Good luck, Eryk."
"Thanks."
And with that, he left.
His window was cracked open, letting the city glow gently illuminate the room. Eryk sat on the bed, holding the red orb in his hands.
"Tell me, vestige," he whispered."Am I making the right choice?"
No answer came. Not from the orb, or the city beyond.
He sighed. All this started with an apology, didn't it?
The urge to go back and say sorry again tickled his mind. He shook it off. He'd said enough.
So, without ceremony, he began the process.
"I wish to accept your power into my soul."
Silence.
Then:
"As you wish."
The vestige's eyes snapped open—glowing yellow, heavy with silent rage—and then its form dissolved into red mist, pouring into his pores, his chest, his soul.
When it was over, he exhaled. "Well. That was creepy as hell."
Nothing else happened.
So he got up, brushed his teeth, changed into pajamas, and returned to bed. He curled up, cold and itchy, hugging his knees.
His head pounded. His eyes burned.
And that's when the tears came.
And eventually, so did sleep.