Year 336 Post-Collision – Day 2 on Surface
Sunny woke up to sunlight on his face and immediately panicked.
His body thought he was being attacked. In the abyss, light meant nothing. Darkness meant nothing. Pressure meant everything. But brightness? Heat on skin? That was new, and every survival instinct the Leviathan had beaten into him screamed DANGER.
He rolled off the bed, Pressure Sense flaring, looking for threats—
And found nothing. Just a window. Just morning sun. Just a normal fucking day on the surface.
"Fuck," Sunny muttered, forcing himself to breathe. His heart was pounding. "It's just the sun. Calm down."
[ARCHIVE ASSESSMENT]
[USER TRAUMA RESPONSE: ACTIVE]
[CAUSE: THREE YEARS IN SENSORY-DEPRIVED ENVIRONMENT]
[RECOMMENDATION: ACCLIMATE GRADUALLY]
[ALSO: YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE WEIRD TRIGGERS]
[THIS IS NORMAL]
[FOR A GIVEN VALUE OF "NORMAL"]
Sunny sat on the floor, letting his breathing settle, and tried to remember that he was supposed to be a normal lost kid. Normal lost kids didn't have panic attacks over sunlight. They probably liked sunlight.
He needed to get better at pretending.
A knock on the door. "Sunny? You awake?"
Nina's voice. Sunny stood up, straightened his pressure-clothes, and opened the door.
"Morning," he said, keeping his voice light. "What's up?"
"Elena wants to see you," Nina said. "Something about... testing?"
Shit.
"Testing what?"
Nina shrugged. "She didn't say. But she seemed serious."
[ARCHIVE ALERT]
[SUSPICIOUS HEALER WANTS TO "TEST" YOU]
[THIS IS EITHER: MEDICAL EXAM OR POWER EVALUATION]
[BOTH OPTIONS ARE PROBLEMATIC]
[RECOMMENDATION: PROCEED CAREFULLY, LIE EXTENSIVELY]
Sunny followed Nina back to the communal hall. Elena was waiting, along with Marcus and the elderly man from yesterday. The undead thing was still in the corner, not moving.
"Sunny," Elena greeted. "Sleep well?"
"Well enough," Sunny lied. He'd barely slept, his body still adjusting to the concept of being still without constant pressure.
"Good. I'd like to do a basic evaluation. Standard procedure for anyone claiming abilities. Just to understand what we're working with." Her tone was professional but firm. "Nothing invasive. I just need to see what you can do."
"Why?" Sunny asked cautiously.
"Because if you're going to stay here—even temporarily—we need to know your capabilities. For safety. Yours and ours." She gestured to the open space in the hall. "Simple demonstration. Show me your danger sense."
Sunny's mind raced. Showing her Pressure Sense would reveal too much. But refusing would make him more suspicious.
Partial demonstration. Downplay it.
"Okay," he said. He activated Pressure Sense at its lowest setting, just enough to feel the immediate space. "It's not very strong. I just... get feelings. When something's aimed at me."
"Show me," Marcus said. He was holding a small stone. "I'm going to throw this at you. Don't look. Just dodge."
Sunny turned his back. He felt Marcus's presence shift, felt the stone leave his hand, felt it arc through the air toward him—
He stepped aside. The stone clattered against the far wall.
"Again," Marcus said.
Three more throws. Three more dodges. Sunny kept them small, barely-there movements. Made it look like instinct and luck rather than perfect spatial awareness.
"Interesting," Elena murmured. "Good reflexes. Better than normal. But nothing... overwhelming." She made a note. "What about durability? You said you were tough."
"I heal fast," Sunny said, which was true. "And I can take more hits than I should be able to."
"Demonstrate."
"How?"
Marcus stepped forward, drawing a knife. "Hold out your arm."
Sunny's every instinct screamed NO, but he forced himself to stay calm. He held out his arm, palm up.
Marcus made a small cut across his forearm. Not deep, but enough to draw blood.
Sunny felt the pain—his Pain Tolerance kicked in automatically, making it manageable—and watched his demigod healing activate. The cut closed slowly, visibly, over about thirty seconds.
Not instant. Not miraculous. Just... fast.
Elena leaned in, studying it. "That's proper regeneration. Low-grade, but real." She looked up at him. "Where did you get this?"
"Born with it," Sunny said. "My family said it was a blessing. I don't know more than that."
"A blessing implies a source," the elderly man spoke up for the first time. His voice was rough, like old leather. "Every blessing comes from somewhere. Someone. Even if you don't know their name, there's always a signature." He squinted at Sunny. "You have weight. Pressure. Something deep. Ocean-deep."
Too perceptive. Way too fucking perceptive.
"I grew up on ships," Sunny said quickly. "Maybe that's it?"
"Maybe," the old man said. But he didn't sound convinced.
Elena stepped back, considering. "Enhanced reflexes. Accelerated healing. High durability. Nothing world-breaking, but useful." She looked at Marcus. "Thoughts?"
"He's combat-capable," Marcus said. "Not trained, but he's got the foundation. Could be useful if things get bad."
"He's nine years old," Nina protested from where she was listening by the door.
"He's a nine-year-old who can dodge stones without looking and heal cuts in thirty seconds," Marcus countered. "Age is less relevant when you're gifted."
Elena nodded slowly. "Sunny, here's what's going to happen. You can stay in Blackshore until we locate your family. In exchange, you'll help where you can. Light work. Nothing dangerous. But if trouble comes—and in a rift zone, it always does—you'll fight. Understood?"
"Understood," Sunny said.
"Good." She turned to Nina. "Show him around the village properly. He needs to know the layout, the safe zones, the warning systems. Marcus, get him evaluated for basic combat training. If he's staying, he needs to not be a liability."
Everyone dispersed except the old man, who kept staring at Sunny with those too-knowing eyes.
"You're hiding something," the old man said quietly. "Something big. I can feel it pressing against you, trying to get out."
Sunny met his gaze. "Everyone's hiding something."
"True," the old man acknowledged. "But most people's secrets don't feel like the bottom of the ocean." He leaned on his cane. "My name's Roland. I was an adventurer, back before the Collision. Died twice, came back once. Retired here because the rift zones reminded me of the old dungeon days." He smiled without humor. "I've seen a lot of strange things, boy. You're one of them."
"Am I a problem?" Sunny asked carefully.
"That depends," Roland said. "Are you dangerous?"
"To enemies," Sunny said. "Not to people who don't attack me first."
"Good enough." Roland turned away. "Keep your secrets, kid. But if they're going to explode and take the village with them, give me a warning first. I'd like to die properly this time."
He limped out, leaving Sunny alone in the hall with the undead thing in the corner.
Sunny looked at it. It looked back. Or maybe it didn't—hard to tell when something didn't have eyes.
"What are you?" Sunny asked.
The thing didn't answer. Obviously.
[ARCHIVE ANALYSIS]
[ENTITY: UNDEAD OR GOLEM]
[PRESENCE: HOLLOW BUT STABLE]
[FUNCTION: UNKNOWN]
[THREAT LEVEL: UNCLEAR]
[RECOMMENDATION: LEAVE IT ALONE]
Nina appeared in the doorway. "That's a Watcher. Village defense. Don't worry about it." She gestured for him to follow. "Come on. Let me show you around."
The Tour
Blackshore Village was small but organized. Nina walked Sunny through it systematically:
The Market Square: A handful of stalls selling basic goods. Food, tools, some minor enchanted items. Prices were high—rift zone tax, apparently.
The Smithy: Run by a dwarf named Kord who glared at Sunny but didn't say anything. Lots of weapons being repaired. Adventurer gear, mostly.
The Watch Posts: Four towers at the cardinal points, each manned by a guard with a bell. "If you hear the bells ring," Nina explained, "get inside immediately. It means something came through the rift."
The Shrine: A small building with symbols from seven different religions carved into the door. "Everyone worships different things here," Nina said. "So we built one place for all of it. Doesn't really work, but it's better than nothing."
The Graveyard: Behind the village, marked with stones. Sunny counted forty-three graves. "We lose people," Nina said quietly. "Rift zones are dangerous. But we stay because the land is cheap and the Dungeon Lords don't bother us here."
"Dungeon Lords?" Sunny asked.
"The people who conquered the local dungeons and claimed Djinn authority," Nina explained. "They control territory, levy taxes, enforce laws. We're technically in Lord Castor's domain, but he doesn't care about border villages like ours. As long as we don't cause trouble."
[ARCHIVE NOTATION]
[DJINN-STYLE POWER STRUCTURE CONFIRMED]
[DUNGEON CONQUEST = SOVEREIGNTY]
[THIS MATCHES THE LORE FROM YOUR MEDIA CATALOG]
[HELPFUL: YOU ACTUALLY KNOW HOW THIS WORKS]
They circled back to the center of the village, where Marcus was waiting with wooden practice swords.
"Your turn," he said to Sunny. "Let's see what you can do."
Combat Evaluation
Marcus didn't hold back.
The first swing came fast—a horizontal cut aimed at Sunny's ribs. Sunny's Pressure Sense flared, his demigod instincts kicked in, and he moved.
The wooden sword whistled past him.
"Good," Marcus said. "Again."
They sparred for thirty minutes. Marcus testing, Sunny responding. It became clear quickly that while Sunny had excellent reflexes and instincts, he had almost no technique. He dodged well, blocked badly, and never counterattacked.
"You fight like someone who's been defending their whole life," Marcus observed. "Never attacking. Just surviving."
Accurate.
"That's what I know," Sunny said.
"Then we'll teach you the rest." Marcus lowered his practice sword. "You've got the foundation. Speed, awareness, durability. What you need is structure. Forms. Actual training." He glanced at Elena, who was watching. "He's raw. But he's not hopeless."
Elena nodded. "Assign him to morning drills with the militia. He can learn with them."
"Militia?" Sunny asked.
"Village defense force," Nina explained. "Everyone aged twelve and up who can fight. We drill twice a week, more if there's a rift alert."
"I'm nine," Sunny pointed out.
"You're a nine-year-old who can heal cuts in thirty seconds," Marcus said. "You're in the militia. Welcome."
[ARCHIVE ASSESSMENT]
[YOU ARE NOW: CHILD SOLDIER]
[IN A RIFT ZONE VILLAGE]
[FIGHTING MONSTERS]
[THIS IS NORMAL HERE APPARENTLY]
[YOUR LIFE IS WEIRD]
Day 4 – First Meal Attempt
Eating was still torture.
Sunny sat at the communal table with Nina and a few other villagers, forcing down bread and stew, and trying not to show how much his stomach was rebelling.
His body knew how to process food theoretically. His demigod physiology was adapting. But three years of being sustained by the Leviathan's presence meant his digestive system was basically learning from scratch.
"You okay?" Nina asked. "You're sweating."
"Fine," Sunny said through gritted teeth. "Just... not used to rich food."
"This is basic stew," one of the villagers said with amusement. "If this is 'rich' to you, kid, you've been eating worse than I thought."
Sunny forced a laugh and took another bite. The cramping was less severe than day one, but still present. His body was adapting. Slowly.
[DIGESTIVE SYSTEM INTEGRATION: 23%]
[ESTIMATED TIME TO NORMAL FUNCTION: 2-3 Weeks]
[KEEP EATING]
[IT GETS LESS AWFUL]
[PROBABLY]
After the meal, Sunny excused himself and walked to the edge of the village, where the forest met the clearing. He sat on a tree stump and activated his connection to the Leviathan.
Can you hear me?
A long pause. Then: Yes.
This sucks.
It is meant to. Her voice was faint, distant, like speaking through deep water. You are learning to exist without me. This is necessary.
My stomach hurts. Food is awful. People are suspicious. I almost blew my cover twice already.
But you did not blow it. A hint of approval in her tone. You adapted. Lied. Survived. This is correct.
When do I get to stop pretending to be helpless?
When you are strong enough that pretending is unnecessary. Her presence pulsed slightly, reassuring. You are still weak, small thing. Still illegal. Still building. Do not reveal yourself too soon.
How long?
Until you have more entries. More synthesis. More foundation. A pause. You have six entries now. Aim for twelve before you show your true capability. Build in secret.
Twelve entries. How long will that take?
That depends on what you survive. Her amusement was clear even through the distance. But you are in a rift zone. Things will come. You will have opportunities.
The connection faded, leaving Sunny alone on the stump.
Twelve entries. He had six. That meant six more successful syntheses. Six more concepts pulled from his Media Catalog and forced into reality. Six more chances to increase his Continuity Debt and attract Editors.
But here, on the surface, the Leviathan couldn't eat Editors for him anymore. She was weaker up here. Distant.
He'd have to be more careful.
[ARCHIVE PLANNING]
[CURRENT ENTRIES: 6]
[TARGET: 12]
[SYNTHESIS ATTEMPTS NEEDED: ~9 (Accounting For Failures)]
[TIME ESTIMATE: 3-6 Months]
[DANGER LEVEL: HIGH]
[BUT YOU'VE NEVER LET THAT STOP YOU]
Day 7 – First Rift Alert
The bells rang at dawn.
Sunny was asleep—actual sleep now, not the meditation-rest he'd done in the abyss—when the sound cut through the village. Loud, urgent, rhythmic.
He was on his feet and moving before his conscious mind caught up.
People were running toward the watch posts. Marcus's voice boomed across the village: "Rift spawn! East perimeter! Militia to arms!"
Sunny ran to the armory where practice weapons were kept. He grabbed a wooden sword—useless, but better than nothing—and headed toward the east watch.
A crowd had gathered. Sunny pushed through to see—
The rift was a tear in space itself. A jagged wound in reality, about ten feet tall and six feet wide, pulsing with colors that didn't have names. And through it—
Things were coming.
[ARCHIVE ANALYSIS]
[RIFT SPAWN DETECTED]
[CLASSIFICATION: CHIMERIC AMALGAMS]
[DESCRIPTION: Bodies Made From Multiple Creatures Merged Wrong]
[THREAT LEVEL: MODERATE TO HIGH]
[COUNT: 7]
[RECOMMENDATION: STAY BACK, YOU'RE NOT READY]
The spawn looked like nightmares. One had three heads—wolf, bird, snake—on a body that was part bear, part insect. Another was just teeth, hundreds of them, in a vaguely humanoid shape. A third seemed to be made entirely of arms, all reaching, grabbing, pulling.
The village militia formed up—fifteen people with real weapons, basic formation training, and the kind of grim determination that came from doing this regularly.
Marcus was at the front. "Standard formation! Elena, barriers! Kord, flanking damage! Everyone else, hold the line!"
The spawn charged.
The militia met them.
Sunny watched from the second line, wooden sword in hand, Pressure Sense screaming warnings as the creatures tore into the village defenders. The fight was brutal, quick, efficient. The militia knew what they were doing—they'd done this before.
But they were losing.
One of the spawn—the teeth-thing—broke through the line and came straight for the rear guard.
Straight for Sunny.
[ALERT: HOSTILE INCOMING]
[ESTIMATED CONTACT: 3 SECONDS]
[RECOMMENDATION: DODGE]
[ALTERNATE RECOMMENDATION: FIGHT]
[YOUR CALL]
Sunny's demigod instincts took over. He moved, sidestepping the teeth-thing's lunge, bringing his wooden sword down on what might have been its head—
The sword shattered.
The teeth-thing barely noticed.
Fuck.
Sunny activated Iron Echo and Abyssal Sovereignty simultaneously, his body suddenly dense, his presence heavy. He dropped low, let the spawn's momentum carry it past him, then drove his fist—compressed, weighted, enhanced—into its core.
The spawn exploded into black mist.
Everyone stopped fighting for half a second.
Marcus stared. "What the hell—"
"Less talking, more stabbing!" Elena shouted, and the fight resumed.
But Sunny could feel their attention on him now. Feel the questions forming.
Shit.
He'd just revealed more than he meant to.
The fight ended five minutes later. Six spawn dead, one retreated back through the rift. The rift itself sealed with a sound like reality stapling itself back together.
Casualties: two injured, none dead. Successful defense.
Marcus walked over to Sunny, breathing hard. "You punched that thing to death."
"It was threatening me," Sunny said. "I defended myself."
"With your fist."
"I'm durable. Remember?"
Marcus looked at him for a long moment. "That wasn't durability, kid. That was power. Real power. The kind that kills monsters in one hit."
Elena approached, already analyzing. "Your presence spiked. Became heavier. Denser. Like..." She paused. "Like gravity itself changed around you."
Sunny said nothing.
"We're going to have a longer conversation about your 'blessing,'" Elena said. "But not now. Get cleaned up. Rest. We'll talk tomorrow."
She walked away. Marcus followed. The militia dispersed.
Sunny stood in the aftermath of his first real surface-world fight, covered in monster ash, and thought: I lasted one week before blowing my cover.
[ARCHIVE ASSESSMENT]
[COVER: COMPROMISED]
[POWER LEVEL: REVEALED (PARTIALLY)]
[SUSPICION: UPGRADED TO "SIGNIFICANT"]
[GOOD NEWS: YOU SURVIVED]
[BAD NEWS: EVERYONE KNOWS YOU'RE HIDING SOMETHING BIG NOW]
[RECOMMENDATION: PREPARE BETTER LIES]
Sunny looked down at his hands—still humming with residual power, still heavy with Abyssal Sovereignty—and sighed.
One week on the surface.
Everything already going sideways.
At least that was familiar.
[END CHAPTER 10]
[DAYS ON SURFACE: 7]
[COVER STATUS: DAMAGED]
[COMBAT ENCOUNTERS: 1]
[KILLS: 1 (Rift Spawn)]
[WITNESSES: 15]
[CONSEQUENCES: PENDING]
[CONTINUITY DEBT: 36.6% (STABLE)]
[NEXT CHAPTER: EXPLANATIONS AND CONSEQUENCES]
[STATUS: EXPOSED, EFFECTIVE, PROBABLY IN TROUBLE]