5. Revenant

5 – Revenant

Hector touched the view-port button on the door, and it flickered, displaying the hallway and the landlord’s back as he walked away. Satisfied, he returned to the couch. Lemon, meanwhile, followed him, arms folded, gray eyes stormy. “Why’d you do that?”

Hector looked up, genuinely confused. “What?”

“Get all into my business?”

“I couldn’t concentrate.” Speaking of… Hector focused his thoughts, directing his aura system to display his archetype options again.

1. The Brawler – strength refined through repetition, impact, and endurance—direct combatant.
   2. The Conduit – currents joined, strength exchanged—supporter, unifier, sustainer.
   3. The Watcher – perception sharpened, awareness expanded—marksman, scout, finisher.
   4. The Bulwark – vitality anchored, resilience layered—protector, defender, unyielding wall.

“Concentrate on what? This is my place, you know. I’m going to be talking to people here. You get me?”

Hector sighed and shifted his gaze to lock eyes with her. “I need to think.” She glared, but he held his stare, and finally, she huffed and walked away. Hector heard her fidgeting with things behind him and tried to tune her out, concentrating on the archetype options.

He felt that his initial impulse to go with Brawler was still a sound choice. His new skin was tall and lean, reasonably quick, too, but it lacked strength and density. The Brawler would lead him down a path where he’d hopefully gain abilities and refinements that would fill in some of the gaps between his current self and the Hector he used to be.

Of course, he might want to lean into his new skin’s strengths. He could choose the Watcher option; it seemed like it might lead down a crit-based combat style. Strength was important, but so was skill. He shook his head. The truth was, he’d probably enhance both those lines eventually, and he felt like he’d see the most immediate gains from the Brawler. Besides, if he played his cards right, a better class might open up. That decided, he—

“I have to step out—client.”

Hector looked up to see Lemon standing near the door, her makeup fresh and her dress partially transparent again, though it was shaded pink. Combined with her undergarments, it left just enough to the imagination—for a dollhouse. He tilted his head as he looked down her long legs to the blue, crystalline pumps on her feet. They didn’t look comfortable, but then, that was probably part of the style.

She folded her arms and leaned toward him, widening her eyes. “Well?”

“What?”

“I said I have to step out!”

Hector shrugged. “Anything more to eat and drink? I’ll need it tonight.”

Her glossy lips pursed slightly as she scowled. “Seriously?”

He nodded.

“There’s nut milk in the fridge, and I have granola in the cupboard. Soup packs, too.”

Hector explored his new skin’s facial muscles, trying to offer a grateful-seeming smile. “Good.”

Lemon’s reaction to the expression was to recoil slightly, folding her arms over her chest. Still, when she spoke, she sounded almost regretful. “You’ll stay here? If something happened, I’d…well, I’d get in trouble.”

What did she say? She’s got a client? Hector frowned—a far more comfortable expression. “You okay?”

“Fine. Are you gonna stay put or what?” Despite her shortness, Hector saw something in her eyes relax, saw the tension fall from her shoulders as she lowered her arms and turned toward the door. She’d wanted him to ask something like that.

“I’ll be sleeping soon. The skin requires it.”

She gave him another measuring look, then shrugged. “See you tomorrow morning then.”

Hector watched her leave, heard the door lock, then closed his eyes and instructed his aura system to begin the archetype assignment.

//Brawler archetype selected…

Initiating aura pathway propagation. Nutrient supplementation and rest recommended for the next 7.8 hours.//

Hector didn’t feel anything yet, but he knew the first thing to hit would be the exhaustion, so he stood and walked over to the kitchenette. He figured he’d eat and drink as much as he could, lie on the floor, and hope he passed out before the pain hit. He started with the granola, finishing the bag and Lemon’s carton of milk as the lethargy really set in. By the time he lifted the bowl to drain the dregs of the milk, his arms felt like they were wrapped in lead blankets, and he was struggling to hold his eyes open.

He went to the fridge, found Lemon’s last beer, and carried it with him over to the bathroom. As he stood over the toilet, emptying his bladder—bright green thanks to the nanites he was clearing from his system—he glimpsed himself in the mirror and abruptly threw the beer at his reflection. When the can bounced off the plasti-glass, cracking it in the process, he felt his first genuine amusement since waking up in his current…hell? Purgatory?

He stared at his reflection, mentally filtering out the crack running across his chest, and tried to reconcile his self-image with the young, dark-haired, dark-eyed man staring back at him. He was too tall, too lean, too handsome, too…soft. We’ll fix that. Hector flushed the toilet, picked up his beer, and then made his way to the “view” wall, collapsing onto the carpet. He slumped against the wall, ripped the tab off the can, and then gulped.

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He was beginning to feel the heat in his extremities—the aura system was modifying his nerves and vessels, expanding the pathways to deliver aura and aura potentia to his cells. Thankfully, the process was as taxing as it was painful, and he was already nodding off, barely able to keep his eyes open. He crushed the beer, tried to toss it on the coffee table, then fell to the side, kicking his legs straight as he let his eyes close. In seconds, he slipped into darkness, pulled down by the weight of absolute exhaustion.

He swam through disjointed memories, a kaleidoscope of nightmare battles, prideful celebrations, blood-drenched surgical tables, stress-filled over-watch assignments, clandestine meetings, and hushed conversations. Through them all, a steady hum of indistinct voices intruded, and a constant, underlying sense of paranoia set his teeth grinding.