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Chapter 3 - Chapter 3: What Power Do You Hold?

"Sweet mother of—" Eryk kicked the green face off his bed, and it shrieked like it was auditioning for a horror movie as it flew behind his garbage can.

His legs burned, and his abs protested loudly, but he scrambled to grab the headgear lying on the floor beside his bed. In his hurry, he slammed his head into the ceiling. "Argh! Why is the ceiling so low today?"

The thing spoke again, voice shrill: "You bastard child! How dare you do that to me!?"

"What the—"

His brain finally caught up with reality. The headgear slipped from his hands with a metallic clang, and his mouth dropped open. "Holy…" He stepped carefully off his bed. "Holy shit!" Eyeing the garbage can, he jumped back at the sight of his bloodstained clothes. Then he glanced at the green face on the floor and just stared, utterly dumbfounded.

"What are you staring at, you idiot!?" the thing snapped. "If I had saliva glands, I'd spit on your feet!"

Slowly, a shaky grin spread across Eryk's face. He let out a laugh that quickly turned to tears of disbelief. "I can't believe it!" he said, lifting the green face like some sacred relic. "Holy shit, I can't believe it! It's a prime vestige!"

He immediately clamped his mouth shut.

Crawling back to his bed, he covered his head with the sheets and shushed the green ball, listening intently for any sounds outside.

Silence.

"I swear, you're a lunatic!" the ball yelled way louder than necessary.

"Shhhhhh! Be quiet, please!" Eryk whispered aggressively. "If someone finds out, they might try to steal you!"

"As if you'd care!" it spat back. "I'm sure you watch men plow your wife's fields every day!"

"Men what!?" Eryk hiss-whispered. "I'm not married!"

"Ha! Figures."

He took a deep breath and tried to steady his pounding heart. His head buzzed with questions, but as far as he knew, primes had to answer if asked. So he forced the words out.

"Tell me, now…" His lips cracked and dry, he licked them. His vision blurred and his stomach felt like it was doing the world's worst roller coaster drop. "…What power do you hold?"

The green orb stared at him for a beat. Then, in all seriousness, it answered:

"Super farmer!"

Eryk blinked. "Excuse me?"

"If you embrace me, you'll be a master farmer! All your crops will yield more, and you might even afford to buy a wife with your produce! So you can watch other men take her away from you!" it cackled before returning to its usual yelling and cursing.

Eryk stared, disbelief radiating from him. "You're kidding, right?" But he already knew the truth.

His hands trembled. Tears welled up.

"No." He blinked them away and almost bit his tongue in frustration. Despite the lame power, a prime vestige was worth more than all his savings and stuff combined.

He hid the ball under his blankets, got up, and dug through his clothes basket for his only set of casual clothes. Still dirty, smelling like he'd been dragged through a swamp, but priorities, right?

Back at his bed, he grabbed the screaming prime and tried calming it down, but the thing wouldn't shut up.

"All right, if that's how you want to play," Eryk muttered, grabbing his sheets and wrapping the prime up until its screams dropped to a faint whisper.

He didn't dare leave it in his apartment but didn't have the guts to take it outside yet. He pushed the chest barricading his door aside, cracked it open, and peered into the hallway.

The clock just showed early afternoon.

Good. Few people would be wandering around—and the toilet was probably empty. Looking like a wreck wasn't the priority now; at least he had to look presentable.

The chest creaked open, and he tossed things out to make room for his sheet bundle. Stuffing it inside and locking it down, he stepped into the hallway.

A woman nearly bumped into him and screamed, jumping back like he'd just grown a second head. After recovering, she gave him a weird look, and he raised an eyebrow as she hurried away.

Ignoring her, he rushed to the bathroom.

"Jesus!" The mirror confirmed her reaction. His hair looked like a squirrel had a fight with it, and his face was dotted with brownish stains—old blood, probably.

Quickly rinsing his face and wetting his hair, he tried to look at least half human. He still smelled terrible, but hey, baby steps.

The running water reminded him how thirsty he was. He drank straight from the faucet like a dehydrated dog, then reached for the door handle—and stopped.

The stench hit him full force. If he wanted to avoid being kicked out before he even got started, he'd better shower first.

So he stripped, took a swift shower, dried off without checking if the towel was clean, threw on his clothes, and hurried out.

Back in his apartment, he unlocked the chest and grabbed the sheets again.

Seconds later, he was downstairs and out on the street, pacing quickly but not running.

Nobody even glanced his way.

The vestige's muffled screams still sounded close, and as three young guys passed, one spun around.

"Yo, did y'all hear that screaming?"

Eryk kept walking, ignoring them. They lost interest quickly, and he breathed easier.

Soon he hit the twenty-third district, where cafes buzzed with people chatting about yesterday's break-in.

A flicker of anxiety hit him, but he shoved it down. Life goes on—or something like that. Who cared? He had a prime vestige, the dream of thousands, a ticket to archhuman status!

As he saw the colorful, towering buildings of the 25th district peek from behind the plain twenty-third, he pushed the anxiety aside. Eyes on the prize.

After a few minutes, he stood before the gates. Blocked. And there was a guard.

His steps slowed. "Oh, come the fuck…!"

How did he forget this part? No way they'd let him in.

Or wait, the prime vestige should count, right? But flashing it around? No thanks.

Why the hell did they even put up fences?

Anyone who could stroll into an arch's private property without getting vaporized wouldn't be stopped by a gate. Eryk had seen a guy jump the fence and the guard just ignored it.

Was this some cruel joke on the lowly mortals?

He swallowed his bitterness and stepped up to the gatekeeper.

"Please provide verification or reason for entry," the bald man said in his monotone.

Every fiber of Eryk's being screamed to keep the sheets wrapped tight, but he peeled back the layers, revealing the screaming green orb.

"Put me back in there, or I'll skin you with my teeth!" it roared.

Heads snapped in his direction, but the guard just nodded and stepped aside.

"Was that a prime vestige?" someone whispered.

"Lucky bastard," another murmured.

Eryk ignored them, wrapping the prime back up and stepping into the district.

Huh. That was easier than expected.

He vowed to fight injustice someday—once he was ridiculously rich and powerful—and walked deeper into the 25th district.

Just as he was about to sit, a woman practically materialized out of nowhere. "Sir, you're not allowed to sit there," she declared, pointing at the sign directly above his head that said the exact same thing.

Eryk's back snapped straight. "Sorry! Really sorry—I didn't see that, oh man."

She nodded and turned to leave, but Eryk seized the chance. "Hey, uh…" he called after her.

She spun around, expression blank.

"I'll be honest—I'm completely clueless about where to go. Mind pointing me in a direction?"

She smiled pleasantly and gestured toward the wall lined with unmarked doors. "The doors." Then she left.

Real helpful lady.

Taking a deep breath, he decided to wing it. First door from the left, then. He stepped through and immediately spotted a line of over ten receptionists to his left and more doors all around the room.

He made his way to a male receptionist. "Hello! I'm here to sell or trade a prime vestige."

The man pointed behind him, toward the right wall. "Doors 14 to 37."

Nodding, Eryk walked over, glancing at the other doors. They looked like some kind of hierarchy—doors numbered ten to one grew fancier and fancier, one looking like the entrance to an emperor's bedroom.

Not his concern.

He turned back to the indicated doors. Each had a small light above it: some red, some green. Assuming green meant available, red taken, he asked a random passerby just to be sure. The woman gave him a look like he'd asked if the sky was blue, then confirmed.

He inhaled and stepped into the first room with a green light.

Immediately, a thick cloud of cigarette smoke hit him—not unpleasant—and he spotted a man lounging in a luxurious leather chair. Ageless, sharp-featured, sporting a scruffy beard.

The man took a massive Cuban cigar from his mouth, flicked ash into a nearby tray, and spoke with a rough, deep voice: "Sit down, kid."

Without hesitation, Eryk sat in the surprisingly comfortable chair.

The man pointed at the glass box and gestured for him to hand it over.

Before doing so, Eryk clarified, "I'm here to sell or trade my vestige."

The man blinked slowly. "No shit!" he said sarcastically. "Give me the damn thing so I can see what it does!"

Reluctantly, Eryk handed over the glass container. The smoker popped it open.

"You bastards can lick my crack clean!" its occupant shrieked.

"Oh, shut up, you whiny thing. What's your talent?" the man asked, blowing out a large puff of smoke.

"Farming! Best farming! Supreme farming! Your crops do better!"

The man stared at the vestige, then at Eryk, waiting.

Realizing there was nothing else to say, he muttered, "Aight." Locking the box again, he turned to Eryk, who stared expectantly.

"So, which is it? Trade or sell?"

"Uh, I… it's whatever—no, I mean, it's uh—"

"Stop yapping, kid. I don't have all day."

"I mean, it's not whatever," Eryk hurried to clarify, "but I'm looking for another prime regardless, so if you have any, I'd love to trade."

The trader scowled. "So you wanna trade?"

"Uh, yes, that's what I want."

"What do you want?"

"I… didn't think that far ahead, but something combat-oriented, sir…"

"Lovely." The man bent to rummage in a drawer. "How 'bout I throw some ideas at you, and you take a look?"

"That suits me just fine," Eryk said, relieved.

The man nodded and pulled out a massive box.

He pulled out a colorful ball—a gray, three-eyed vestige that spoke in a depressed monotone, "Hello, you guys…"

"What does it do?" Eryk asked.

"Why ask me?" the man said, pushing the gray ball toward him. "Ask it."

"Uh… what do you do?"

"Not much. Spend my days bored."

"No, I mean," Eryk rushed to correct, "what power do you hold?"

"A rat tail. Like a rat's tail… Not very cool…"

Eryk's stomach sank. "Uhm… sorry if this sounds rude, but even the prime doesn't seem impressed."

"And your vestige's enthusiasm is… underwhelming," the man said with a sly grin. "Not exactly a strong endorsement."

"Fair enough. If this is the kind of stuff you're offering, I'd prefer to keep mine." He looked at the man with a bit more confidence.

It was clear the man thought he was an easy mark. Not surprising. After calming down, Eryk realized he didn't have to rush.

The man pocketed the ball and pulled out another, but as Eryk stood to leave, the man called out, "Kid, wait! That was only the first offer."

"I'll get the vestige appraised first," Eryk replied, half-turned.

The man stared blankly, then burst into laughter, coughing.

"What's so funny?"

"Kid, do you know how expensive a proper appraisal is?" the trader asked. "At minimum, you'll pay the full price of a cheap prime. Without the right contacts, it can take six months."

Eryk hesitated, then looked serious. "I know it might sound funny, sir, but please take me seriously."

"What the hell do you mean, brat?"

That made him hesitate again, but then frustration boiled over. "Rat tail!? Seriously!?"

"What's wrong with that?"

"Do you take me for an idiot?"

"Yes, I do," the man said smugly. "And your behavior doesn't change my mind."

A chill ran down Eryk's spine as he realized who he was yelling at. "I'm sorry, sir…"

"Bah!" the man spat. "You were almost manly. Don't ruin it by backing down!"

"I… what?"

"Sit the fuck down again."

After hesitating, Eryk sat back down.

The man sighed, giving him a hard look. "Tell me, were you involved in the break last night?"

Eryk's eyes widened. "How did you know?"

"Oh, I don't know," the man mused sarcastically. "A clueless kid shows up with a prime, acting like a scared dog the day after. Coincidence? You know monster fights can increase the chance of manifesting a prime, right?"

Eryk nodded.

The man squinted. "Also, you're acting a bit… uh…" Instead of finishing, he twirled a finger next to his head.

Eryk winced.

The man sighed. "Have you seen a shrink yet?"

"No, sir."

"You shouldn't."

"What?"

"You shouldn't do it. Fuck 'em."

"Well, I can't afford one anyway… but if I could, why shouldn't I go?"

The man leaned over, pulling his cigarette out and setting it in an ashtray. "Did you see anyone die?"

Eryk winced, recalling fresh corpses so vividly he felt like he was back there. "Yes, sir."

"Funny, isn't it," the man said, leaning back. "Didn't you want a combat power?"

"What are you trying to say?" Eryk asked, a little sharper than he intended.

The man grinned. "Go to a shrink. They'll tell you to feel sorry for yourself, cry it out, and avoid conflict for life." He scoffed. "And you'll probably believe it. Screw that. You made the right choice. Man up and get ready for more."

Eryk was stumped. That wasn't why he wanted combat powers—he just wanted to be independent. Farming meant being stuck forever, defenseless if someone wanted to mess with him.

Screw that.

His lifelong dream was to become an archhuman—to live life on his own terms, not kissing anyone's boots.

Before he could respond, the man pointed at the glass box again. "You do realize we haven't asked what affinities your vestige has, right?"

"Wait, it can tell you that!?" Eryk asked dumbfounded.

The man sighed, slumped. "Boy, if you're that clueless, you should at least try to hide it."

He grabbed the box, opened it, releasing the screaming green ball. "What affinities do you have?"

Once it stopped yelling, it said, "Earth, naturally! And water, naturally! And nature, naturally! Naturally," then screamed again.

The man whistled, locked the box, and sank into his chair. "Well, I'll be damned. Three affinities. That's rare."

That sounded like money. Instead of rejoicing, Eryk felt offended. "So you were trying to scam me earlier!"

"Damn straight!" the man declared. "I'm here to make money, not charity." Then with a smile: "Listen, kid. Being the first trader you talk to means you either get everything or nothing. You see why?"

Eryk wanted to leave and get a second opinion.

"So here's the deal," the trader said, now businesslike. "This is decent, but the farming talent cuts the price. Still, triple affinities are desirable."

"And that means…?"

"If it were combat, you'd be rich. But it ain't, so you're not. Still good stuff."

"I might get a second opinion."

The man waved him off. "Go scam somewhere else. You won't get a better deal. But I'll make you a special offer: sell it to me now, and I'll give you three things!"

He raised three fingers. "First, a prime I think suits you. Second, twenty-five thousand dollars cash. Third, I'll cover your consulting fee and get you an appointment right away."

Eryk wanted details, but money came first.

"Fifty thousand."

The man grinned. "Twenty-six."

"No way. Fifty."

"Sticking it up your ass, kid. No deal."

"Fine, forty."

"Thirty max."

With a fake frown hiding a grin, Eryk agreed, "Sold. Not the whole deal, but the money's good."

The man scoffed. "So, the prime…"

"Wait, what's consulting?"

"A guy looks at the prime I give you and advises how to use it."

"Sounds good." Eryk wasn't sure if it was a good deal, but he was clueless anyway.

Instead of opening the box on the table, the man walked to a blank wall, tapped it, and a drawer slid open. He pulled out a black box and opened it, revealing a calm, red prime with closed eyes.

"Go ahead, kid," the trader said. "Ask it what it does."

Eryk gulped, nervous again.

After a few seconds, he finally asked, "Tell me, vestige… what power do you hold?"

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