The forge, which had been a place of quiet contemplation, transformed into a miniature production line. The sleek, insectoid design of the Wraith drone that Raphael had conceived was brought to life with the quiet hum and the precise movements of my newly built 3D printer. Carbon fiber filaments were woven into a lightweight, radar-absorbent chassis. I spent hours hunched over my workbench, my hands moving with Thorne's practiced certainty as I soldered micro-servos and installed the custom sensor suite.
When I finally powered it on, there was no loud whir. Just a faint, almost subliminal thrum. A small blue light on its "head" blinked once, and a crystal-clear video feed appeared on the Synapse monitor.
"Wraith online," I said, my voice a low, satisfied rumble. "Time to find our battery."
Finding a specific teenager in a city of eight million should have been impossible. For the Digital Ghost, it took seven minutes.
An address appeared on the screen. A small, unassuming brownstone in a quiet residential neighborhood. I didn't need elaborate, multi-day surveillance plans. I wasn't that timid man anymore. I had the tools, the skills, and a clear objective.
"I'm going now," I stated, pulling on a plain black jacket. "Keep the Wraith on overwatch."
I found Lucas Bishop exactly where Raphael's brief surveillance had predicted he'd be: on a public basketball court near his high school, lost in a game. He was a picture of kinetic energy, all lanky limbs and focused intensity.
I leaned against the chain-link fence, just another face in the small crowd of onlookers. There was no need for a complex distraction. The game itself was chaos. A stray pass, a contested rebound—that's all I needed.
My opportunity came a few minutes later. The ball was knocked loose and came bouncing towards the sideline where I was standing. Bishop and another player scrambled after it. As they neared, I took a step forward, as if to stop the ball myself.
"Got it," I said, my voice casual. I bent down, my hand closing around the worn rubber of the ball. As I straightened up to toss it back, I made sure my other hand brushed against Bishop's arm as he ran past.
"Here you go," I said, flipping the ball to the other player.
The contact lasted less than a second. There was no flash of light, no cosmic sound effect. Just a quiet, fundamental change deep within my cells. Bishop, oblivious, just nodded a quick thanks and ran back onto the court.
I turned and walked away without a second glance, a storm of notifications erupting in my mind.
[Power: [Energy Absorption & Redirection (Kinetic, Thermal, Electrical)] Lvl. 1 has been created!]
Description: You can absorb kinetic, thermal, and electrical energy into your body, storing it as a personal energy pool (EP). This energy can be used to fuel skills, boost physical stats, or be redirected as concussive blasts.
"Raphael," I said, my voice buzzing with excitement. "Let's test this."
I stood before a solid brick wall . I pulled my fist back and threw a punch, making sure to pull it at the last second so I only struck with half-force. The impact was jarring, a dull thud that sent a painful shock up my arm.
[HP: 99/100]
"Okay, baseline established," I muttered, shaking my tingling hand. "Now... with feeling."
I focused, trying to tap into the new power. In my mind's eye, I saw a new gauge next to my HP and MP bars, this one labeled [EP: 0]. I pulled my fist back again, but this time, as my knuckles met the brick, I willed the skill to activate.
Instead of a painful shock, I felt a strange, satisfying thump. The kinetic energy of the impact, instead of shattering my knuckles, seemed to flow into me, a warm, invigorating rush. The brick was completely unharmed.
[EP: 15]
A grin stretched across my face. "It works. It actually works." Now for phase two.
I focused on the 15 points of energy I'd just stored. I pulled my fist back a third time, and as I swung, I willed that energy back out.
The impact was completely different. It wasn't a sharp crack, but a deep, hollow BOOM that echoed through the workshop. A web of cracks appeared in the brick, and a puff of mortar dust exploded from the wall. My hand felt completely fine.
I stared at my fist, then at the damaged wall, then back at my fist. A laugh, deep and genuine, filled the room. "Raphael, show me my status."
A blue screen materialized before me.
Name: Alexander Sterling
Level: 5
HP: 99/100
MP: 150/150
EP: 5
STR: 12 + (EP/10)
CON: 11
DEX: 10
INT: 35+ (??)
CHA: 25
LUK: 10
"Wait, why is my EP back to five?" I asked.
I punched the wall again, feeling that same warm rush as the EP gauge filled.
[EP: 20
"Okay, now check my status again," I said.
The screen flickered, and one number had changed.
STR: 12 + 2
"So holding the energy makes me stronger," I realized aloud. "It's a temporary physical buff."
"One step closer to being Superman, right?" I joked, flexing my temporarily enhanced arm. "Just need to find a yellow sun to absorb."
I looked around the workshop. Punching the wall was inefficient. I needed a better source. My eyes landed on the 3-phase, 480-volt outlet I'd installed, the one that powered my heavy equipment. I walked over and cautiously placed my hand on the thick, insulated conduit leading from it.
"Activate absorption. Electrical," I commanded.
The effect was instantaneous. A torrent of energy, far more potent than a simple punch, flooded into me. It wasn't painful; it was exhilarating, like downing a dozen espressos at once. The lights in the workshop flickered as I drew power directly from the line.
[EP: 350]
I pulled my hand away, feeling absolutely wired, buzzing with contained power. I was basking in the glow of my victory, already imagining the applications, when it hit me.
It was not a sound, but a feeling—a raw, jagged shard of psychic energy that stabbed directly into my mind. It was a silent scream of pure, undiluted terror, laced with a core of furious, defiant anger.
My knees buckled. A wave of nausea washed over me. The sheer emotional force of it was a physical blow.
[WARNING: Psionic Intrusion Detected!]
[Skill: [Gamer's Mind] activated. Mental status protected. Emotional state stabilized.]
The notification was a welcome anchor in the psychic storm. The raw emotion was still there, a deafening echo in my thoughts, but it was like listening to a hurricane from behind reinforced glass. I could perceive its power without being destroyed by it. I stumbled back against a workbench, my own triumph forgotten, replaced by the chilling, psychic residue of someone else's desperate struggle.
"Raphael," I gasped, my voice barely a whisper. "What the hell was that?"