Aeon's Leveling; She Alone Can Level Up
When all was said and done, the events that followed the "Swap", which what I decided to title the recent events that turned my life into a psychological horror of comedic proportions. The Void, which is essentially the birthplace of all Demons, getting stronger thus producing more of them than before right around the same time that Althea came into my life and I got marked as the "Reach".
Coincidence? I want to believe that but considering what Althea said, about leveling up and getting strong enough to fight these "Voids".
It was too perfectly timed. The universe didn't just hand out magical tattoos and parallel-dimension domains on a whim. The Reach wasn't just a title; it was a beacon. And by touching it, I had essentially flipped a switch, broadcasting my existence to every rotting, nightmarish entity lurking beyond the veil.
I paced the length of the dingy bathroom, my sneakers squeaking sharply against the cracked tiles. Althea stood by the sinks, watching my frantic laps with that unnerving, statuesque stillness, completely unbothered by the scent of urinal cakes and despair.
"It's an aggro mechanic," I muttered, aggressively dragging both hands through my hair. "The second I got this mark, the Void noticed. That's why they're mobilizing. That's why the DHA is suddenly desperate enough to draft actual teenagers. It's all connected, and I am standing right at the center of the blast radius."
"Your survival instincts are sharp," Althea noted, tilting her head. "The Pantheon acts as a sanctuary, but your active presence in this reality acts as a catalyst. If we do not accelerate my Ascension, we will be overrun by the encroaching hordes."
I stopped pacing and stared at my own reflection in the smudge-stained mirror. I looked pale, exhausted, and utterly unqualified to save anything, let alone the world. If the DHA found out I was the catalyst for these synchronized Demon attacks, they wouldn't hand me a shiny contract. They'd lock me in a black-site vault and throw away the key. Or worse, they'd execute me just to sever the connection to the Void.
There was no relying on Captain Heather. There was no going to the authorities. If my life was officially operating on the twisted, punishing mechanics of a high-stakes action RPG, then I had to play the game my way.
"Alright. Here's the new plan," I said, turning on the tap and splashing freezing water onto my face to shock my system out of its panic. "We don't talk to the DHA. We don't look at Captain Heather. We lay completely low and survive the rest of the school day without drawing a single ounce of attention."
I dried my face with a rough paper towel, my resolve hardening into a grim, fatalistic sort of acceptance.
"As soon as the final bell rings, we are slipping out, sprinting straight home, and locking the doors. Then, we are diving right back into the Pantheon," I declared, looking at the faintly glowing mark on my hand. "I need to figure out exactly what this Interface is, what it wants from me, and what the hell else is hiding in that domain besides a Boggart."
"A tactical retreat to a secure resource zone," Althea translated, a faint glimmer of approval in her bright blue eyes. "A sound strategy to begin the grinding process."
"Yeah. Let's just hope the RNG is on our side." I took a deep breath, shoving my mounting dread into a tight, manageable little box in the back of my mind. I couldn't afford to break down right now. I had to play the part of Timothy, the unremarkable, C-average eighth grader who was just as clueless and terrified as everyone else.
I walked over to the heavy wooden door, grabbing the handle. "Stay close. Don't glare at anyone. Let's just get through the rest of this stupid day."
I pushed the door open, and together, we stepped out of the flickering fluorescent lights of the bathroom, walking back down the hallway to face the rest of class.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of agonizing, paranoid monotony. I spent the remaining periods staring blankly at chalkboards, completely zoning out while my teachers droned on about subjects that felt utterly useless in the face of an impending apocalypse.
Lunch was an exercise in extreme isolation. I actively dodged Matthew, dragging Althea to a secluded corner behind the gymnasium where we ate stale sandwiches in silence. I wasn't taking any chances. One slip-up, one rogue glow of her sword, and it was game over.
When the final bell finally shrieked through the halls, I didn't just walk out—I launched myself from my desk.
"Reach, I need to see you at my desk for a—" Mr. Harrison started as I bolted past the podium.
"Can't! Family emergency! Uncle's sick!" I yelled over my shoulder, grabbing Althea's sleeve and dragging her out the door before he could even process the blatant lie.
We hit the pavement running. The afternoon sun was beating down, casting long shadows across the concrete. I was weaving through the sea of departing students, my heart pounding in my chest as my mind raced with plans to lock myself in my apartment, boot up the Interface, and figure out how to actually survive this twisted game.
We were exactly three blocks from my apartment building when my pocket vibrated.
It wasn't a standard text notification. It was a sharp, high-pitched, continuous screech that pierced the ambient noise of the street. Around us, a dozen other phones started making the exact same noise in horrifying unison.
I yanked my phone out. The screen was flashing a blinding, angry red.
[EMERGENCY BROADCAST SYSTEM]
CLASS 3 DEMON INCURSION DETECTED: SECTOR 4.
IMMEDIATE EVACUATION REQUIRED. SEEK NEAREST SHELTER COMMAND.
The wail of city-wide sirens began to spool up in the distance, a low, mournful howl that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. The street, previously filled with casual afternoon foot traffic, erupted into absolute chaos. People were screaming, dropping their bags, and sprinting toward the designated underground bunkers scattered throughout the city.
"Come on!" I yelled, the adrenaline kicking my body into overdrive. I spotted the green neon sign of a subway-turned-shelter just a block down. "We have to get underground!"
I took three hard, desperate strides toward the shelter before I realized the weight of Althea's presence was missing.
I skidded to a halt, spinning around.
She hadn't followed me.
Instead, the First Aeon of the Reach was standing dead center in the middle of the panicking street, facing the exact opposite direction. Her bright blue eyes were locked onto a dark, unnaturally thick plume of smoke rising from the skyline a few blocks over. The air around her was beginning to shimmer, a faint, golden aura bleeding through the oversized fabric of my hoodie.
"Althea!" I screamed over the blaring sirens. "What are you doing?! The shelter is this way!"
She didn't look at me. She simply raised her right hand, and with a familiar, terrifying hum of energy, her golden broadsword materialized in her grip.
"The Vanguard does not retreat from a breach, Adjutant," she said, her voice cutting through the panic with chilling clarity. "There is a high-level entity in that direction. To accelerate my Ascension, I require its core."
"Are you insane?!" I shrieked. "That's a real-life Demon! Not a tutorial boss! We don't have the stats for that!"
She ignored me, taking a heavy, deliberate step toward the rising smoke. Towards the screaming. Towards absolute, undeniable death.
I stood there for three agonizing seconds, watching the fleeing crowd push past me while my mythical, heavily-armed roommate marched straight into a literal warzone. My survival instincts were screaming at me to run to the shelter, to let her get herself killed, to just be a normal, terrified kid.
But she was my Angel. And if she died out there, I had a sinking, dreadful feeling that the Interface—and the Void—would come for me next.
"Son of a bitch!" I screamed at the sky, violently kicking a discarded trash can across the pavement. "Goddamn it!"
I turned my back on the safety of the shelter, gripping the straps of my backpack until my knuckles turned white, and sprinted straight into the chaos, chasing after the blonde girl who was single-handedly dragging me into hell.
***
"He's the Seventh?" Chronos asked, watching gleefully from her magic ball.
"That he is," answered Dimitri. "He wouldn't be my first choice, considered the amount of power he's been granted. What's more, he may be variable your original master was betting on."
"Whatever do you mean, young Dimitri?"
Dimitri sighed, his breath fogging in the snow. "You know exactly what I mean. The Fourth gave you're his access code so you can continue to exist even after he died. He did it in hopes that you'd see his convergence plan all the way through. And by the looks of it, the Seventh- this…. Timothy Strife , might be the last piece needed to see the Fourth's plan succeed."
"What? He's the Usurper?"
"Better. He's the Plunderer."