The Blackthorne estate sprawled across forty acres of manicured grounds, but it was the house itself that caught my attention. Modern architecture blended seamlessly with classical elements, as if someone had taken a Greek temple and reimagined it for the twenty-first century.
Fitting, I thought, considering who now lived here.
"Your room's exactly as you left it," Victoria said as we walked through marble corridors lined with priceless art. "Though I did have the staff change your sheets. Lydia insisted you'd want fresh linens when you got back."
Lydia shot me a look. "Don't make it weird. I just didn't want you complaining about thread count for the next month."
My room occupied the entire east wing's top floor. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a view of the city skyline, where the Tower rose like a black spear against the clouds.
Multiple monitors sat on a custom desk, surrounded by textbooks on economics, history, and theoretical physics. A reading nook held everything from classical literature to technical manuals on architectural engineering.
Adrian's interests were... comprehensive.
"We'll let you rest," Marcus said. "But dinner's at seven. No excuses!"
After they left, I stood alone in a room that was somehow mine and not mine. The memories felt real, but distant, like watching someone else's life through rose tinted glass.
That's when it spoke.
[System Integration Complete.]
The voice materialized directly in my mind, not heard, but known. Cold, precise, utterly inhuman.
[Welcome, Inheritor of the Divine Authority.]
I didn't flinch. After facing the Devourer, a voice in my head seemed almost quaint.
"Show yourself," I said quietly.
[I am not a being to be shown. I am the Synthesis Protocol, the artifact your divine predecessor retrieved from the Tower's depths. I am conscience, guide, and limitation.]
"Limitation?"
[Your mortal form constrains what power I may grant. Unlike the Tower's crude system, I prefer not to burn out my host in pursuit of immediate gratification. Progress will be... measured.]
Something flickered at the edge of my vision. Not quite visible, but there, like text written in smoke.
[STATUS ANALYSIS BLOCKED]
[REASON: Mortal Shell Not Awakened to Tower's Call] [PRELIMINARY ASSESSMENT AVAILABLE]
[CURRENT OBJECTIVES:]
[Physical Conditioning: 0/100 Push-ups Daily]
[Physical Conditioning: 0/100 Squats Daily]
[Physical Conditioning: 0/120 Minutes Cardio Daily]
[Social Integration: Maintain Family Relationships]
[Knowledge Acquisition: Continue Current Studies]
[Long-term Goal: Figure Out What You Actually Want From This Second Chance]
[Integration Phase: 2 Years Remaining]
"Two years until what?"
[ Until the optimal moment for Tower contact. Premature exposure would result in system incompatibility. Your divine essence must fully settle before true awakening.]
I studied the translucent text hovering in my peripheral vision. A system more sophisticated than anything the Tower offered its chosen. And it was mine.
"What about my family? Do they know..."
[They know nothing. To them, you are Adrian Blackthorne, gifted but reclusive heir with unusual coloring and antisocial tendencies.]
The door opened without a knock.because apparently, privacy was a foreign concept in loving families. Lydia poked her head in, purple eyes bright with mischief.
"Mom's making your favorite for dinner.
Also, she wanted me to remind you about the Whitmore Academy interview next week." She paused, studying my face. "You're not going to chicken out, are you?"
Whitmore Academy. The memory surfaced, an elite preparatory school with connections to every major corporation and government agency. Their graduate program included courses on "Modern Mythology" and "Theoretical Xenobiology."
Fancy name for Tower studies.
"No," I said, surprising myself with how easily the lie came despite my attachment to them.
"I won't chicken out."
Her grin was radiant. "Good. Because I already told everyone you were finally going to stop being a hermit and actually interact with other human beings."
After she left, I walked to the window and stared at the Tower's distant silhouette. Somewhere in that structure lay answers. Power. Perhaps even a way to reclaim what I'd lost.
But first, I had a role to play. A life to live. And answers to find.
After millennia of judging the dead, the idea of just being a teenager worried about homework seemed refreshingly simple.
Objective Updated: Survive Whitmore Academy Without Accidentally Revealing Divine Nature]
[Difficulty Rating: Unknown]
I pressed my palm against the cold glass. In the reflection, crimson eyes stared back, the only visible reminder of my divine nature. To everyone else, I was just Adrian Blackthorne. Brilliant but distant. Elegant but cold.
Someone to be respected from afar, but never truly known.
Perfect.