Phillens didn't know why he had bothered to bring his coat. The bright sun asked again. Plus the sky, a soft gradient of azure, light and spectrum blue, with not a cloud in sight.

In either case, the questioning had led him to drape the coat over a shoulder. But then the shoulder drape had brought the issue of a warm microclimate. So folded and slung over an arm became the alternative.

At least the sour fizz drop was stopping him from getting too deep into the coat business. That and having to cross yet another road. This had to be the sixth one along this stretch; appearing beyond a shop to his right like the others. Descending curbs like them too. Plus half-road, half-kerb cars; stepped-back houses; and more of that deep, soulful, cloudless sky.

A similar set of streets ran away towards the sun on the further side of the road Phillens was travelling along. But they were shorter and, from the two that he had spied so far, ended at north-facing houses. Then again, at least he had completed a street crossing without a near-miss with any vehicles. One in as many streets was enough. Three in three would have been too much.

In the case before last it hadn't been a vehicle, but a Father Christmas chap. Without the boots, red and white jacket and cap. But with a beard, sunbeam-smile and an oncoming trolley. A frantic jump step to the right had got Phillens to safety. Only to find himself a step short from going into a herd of school children who would have left him for dead.

Or felt like it, he noted, stepping onto the far bank of the asphalt river and continuing along the next pavement. Now that he had crossed canal number six, he was going to have to pay more attention to the street names. Although he wasn't sure if it had been canal six or seven. Montarion had said that Don-Julise was the seventh. But was that if you were coming from Ginsberry Road or the direction of the Bridge? And numbers didn't mean a thing if every door you passed was either a restaurant, aquarium, barbers, or corner shop with not a number in...

Well, it was on a corner, he frowned, only the far side of yet another street crossing. One he hadn't the faintest idea how he had reached the edge so quickly after the last called Fer-Julise. A shop with window displays that were not the latest properties of an estate agent. But did have a curve of seats like the waiting area of a barbershop. What looked to be a tortoise-paced goldfish was cruising across the nearest window; whilst Phillens took out the seen-better-days card Montarion had given him the evening before last.

A card that also had a luminescent goldfish...

James & Jones: Intuitive Consultants.

Phillens had to look again. The second bit may as well have been spray-stencilled on as an afterthought. Not only on the card but both illuminated shop signs too. A hoot from a piccolo train reached his ears. Only they didn't run any more, and not from the inside of a shop. In fact, he couldn't remember opening the door to go inside in the first place. Or the interior looking so spacious that a ball could travel in comfort from one side to the other. Not to mention the bright summer's holiday music whilst the piccolo train flowed its way through tunnels, over viaducts and past leafy stations...

"Can I help you?" a voice asked.

Phillens almost choked. Ask wasn't the word; yawned more like. The yawner didn't have a counter, but a base of operations; with three mirror-smooth screens and a pilot's chair. Indeed the train left the ground, and soared above the owner's chair via a Millau-style bridge; accompanied by another whistle and hoot from the window-swimming goldfish; its bright outline mirrored on the side of the lady's sunglasses.

"I can put you back outside if you want," she continued, pushing a sweep of viola hair behind an ear. "Or even Ullista Road if you're worried about not making the bus."

"Sorry, it was, the train," he began.

"The train?" the lady half-raised an eyebrow. "Sure it wasn't a bus?"

"That train," Phillens said, pointing at the pink and green locomotive now in the midst of a loop-the-loop.

"Oh..." the lady said, following the loop then lowering the eyebrow. "I suppose it's an unusual sight on the first appointment."

"Too right," said Phillens, turning back to the lady. "Did you say first appointment?"

"You didn't come last Wednesday," the lady leaned forward. "Or the Wednesday before that. The pipsqueak assured me that he had taken everyone's names down; all two of them."

"But I was - led to believe - that it could be sorted in one appointment."

"Montarion should know better," the lady said, pressing a keypad. "We're not a practice."

"...You know M-Montarion?" Phillens managed to gasp. But the lady was holding up a mirror that had the same liquid effect as one of the screens. "Confirm name, status and whether you want to go ahead," she said as Phillens stared, not at his reflection, but a flock of hot air balloons gliding over a park.

"Phillens Martens. Unsure, but wish to go ahead."

"Well done," the lady said as one of the screens brought up Phillens's face, an Unsure tag and top three choices of toothpaste? "At least Mont's briefed you on how to answer. So many can't get past status."

"You mean, that was a test?" said Phillens. Since when did he like mint-laced banana and he only used the sparkle gel as it didn't set his mouth on fire.

The train, halfway through a double island crossing, hooted as if in answer; whilst a door slid open to the right of the desk.

"Room eleven," the lady said, passing Phillens what looked to be a crystal golf-ball. "Listen as well as speak. And be truthful."

Ever since [Player] could remember, translucent panels hovered in his vision—menus, stats, inventory slots, and quests as though his life were part of an elaborate video game. At first, he thought everyone saw them, but after asking his childhood friends about the "Quest Completed" prompts he received for mundane tasks like tying his shoelaces, he realized he was alone in this experience. As he grew older, these panels became more complex, awarding skill points for studying harder in school, gaining charisma for helping someone in need, and even granting a "perk" when he received his first kiss in high school. Yet no matter how much he progressed, a darkened option in the corner of his interface always taunted him: "[Abyss]:????." It was both a promise and a curse, driving [Player] to live his life with an almost obsessive need to improve, gain, and prepare for whatever it meant.

From his early childhood to his teenage years, [Player] learned to navigate the peculiar reality of living with his unique system. It began innocuously enough. When he first saw "Daily Quest: Brush Your Teeth" appear at the age of six, the reward—a piece of candy appearing in his inventory slot—made him think it was all just a strange game only he could play. As he grew older, the quests became more varied and sometimes bizarre. "Help a classmate with their homework: Reward - +2 Charisma, +1 Intelligence." "Resist the urge to punch the school bully: Reward - Patience Perk." These tasks nudged him toward moral and practical growth, as though some hidden intelligence was guiding his development.

But the system wasn’t always so kind. By the time he turned thirteen, it began issuing quests with darker implications. "Steal $10 from the convenience store: Reward - +3 Stealth, Unlock 'Petty Theft' Skill." Terrified and morally torn, [Player] initially ignored the quest. Yet, as the timer on it ticked down, the consequences of failure manifested: an eerie, inescapable sense of lethargy, as though his very vitality was drained. "Penalty Applied: -5 Stamina." His Health, displayed as a numerical value out of 100, dipped slightly, and he noticed his physical energy waning for days afterward. This taught him the hard truth—ignoring quests was possible, but it came at a price. Over time, he discovered he could resist morally questionable tasks by using his ingenuity to find loopholes. For the theft quest, he borrowed money from a friend and then surreptitiously returned it later, still earning the reward without fully compromising his values.

The types of quests he received during his teenage years grew increasingly diverse, often reflecting the chaos and uncertainty of adolescence. There were "Social Quests," such as "Make five friends: Reward - +10 Charisma," and "Propose to your crush: Reward - Unlock 'Courage' Perk." These were straightforward but daunting for a socially awkward boy. There were also "Skill Quests," like "Score 90% on your next math test: Reward - +5 Intelligence, Bonus Reward - Calculator Artifact (Rare)." This latter reward turned out to be an actual object, a seemingly mundane calculator imbued with an "Accuracy Bonus" that helped him ace future exams. His system seemed invested in both his personal growth and its own strange agenda, pushing him toward self-improvement and experimentation.

Occasionally, quests emerged that bordered on the absurd. At fifteen, he was startled by the appearance of "Romance Quest: Start a Harem of 10 Girls and Treat Them Equally." The sheer audacity of it left him speechless, and he initially dismissed it as a glitch. Yet the system persisted, even offering perks like "Harem Mastery" (which boosted his ability to juggle relationships) and rewards such as rare inventory items, like the "Chocolates of Infinite Forgiveness." Desperate to avoid the quest penalty, he awkwardly tried to befriend several girls, but it became clear the system expected something deeper. He eventually failed the quest, enduring a harsh penalty of -10 Charisma for a month, which left him feeling painfully awkward in every social interaction.

Some quests were outright dangerous. At seventeen, he encountered his first "Timed Combat Quest: Defeat the Gang Leader Within 3 Hours." It came with a flashing timer and a dire warning of a severe stamina penalty if he failed. Without any combat skills to speak of, he relied on his wits and system-guided stats. He invested heavily in the "Quick Thinking" and "Improvisation" perks, leading him to outsmart his opponent using makeshift traps and clever deception rather than brute strength. His reward? "Combat Beginner's Kit," which included a dagger with mild stat boosts and a temporary +10 boost to Dexterity, allowing him to flee the scene before the authorities arrived.

When he turned eighteen, the system revealed something new: a crafting interface. It happened during an otherwise uneventful afternoon while he repaired an old lamp in his apartment. As he twisted the wires together, a prompt materialized before his eyes: "Combine materials to create new objects. Experimentation encouraged." He hesitated at first, but curiosity won out. Dragging a piece of scrap metal and an unused light bulb from his inventory into the interface, he watched in awe as they merged into a sleek, glowing orb labeled "Illumination Core." Holding it, he found it emitted a soft, magical light that never dimmed. Crafting became an obsession after that. From mundane objects like reinforced backpacks to fantastical creations like "Spectral Daggers" and "Potion of Night Vision," the possibilities seemed endless.

His life became a whirlwind of quests, experiments, and discoveries. Quests now came in waves, each one more intricate than the last. The system issued tasks tied to every aspect of his adult life, from the personal—“Secure a Job: Reward - Entrepreneurial Genius Perk”—to the bizarre—“Cook a Perfect Meal for a Stranger: Reward - Mystery Recipe.” Some quests were thrilling, like the time he was tasked to climb the tallest building in the city to retrieve a lost artifact, a feat that tested both his endurance and his resourcefulness. Others were exhausting, their mundane demands piling on top of his already full schedule. Yet, every quest carried the weight of potential punishment for failure.

It didn’t take long for [Player] to realize the system was changing. There were quests now that revealed no reward or punishment upfront, leaving him to gamble on the outcome. He still remembered the first time he faced such a task. “Reach the Designated Location in 24 Hours,” the screen commanded, its text glowing ominously. The location was deep within a forest he had never ventured into before. Unsure of what awaited him, he followed the directive, battling exhaustion and the suffocating silence of the woods. When he arrived, there was nothing there—only a small wooden box resting on a tree stump. Inside was a single ring labeled "Crest of Serendipity." It granted him a permanent bonus to his Luck stat, an invaluable asset in future challenges.

But not every gamble ended well. During a period of rebellion, he decided to defy the system outright, refusing to complete its tasks. For weeks, he ignored the glowing panels that appeared before him. He hoped the system would give up, but instead, his stats began to deteriorate. First, it was his Stamina, leaving him perpetually exhausted. Then his Intelligence dropped, robbing him of his sharpness. By the time his Charisma began to falter, making even casual conversations an ordeal, he realized the system wouldn’t tolerate disobedience. The penalties accumulated, driving his stats dangerously close to zero. When his Health hit a critical low, he had no choice but to relent, scrambling to complete a flurry of quests to recover.

It was during one of these desperate quests that he stumbled upon the crafting subsystem’s most enigmatic feature: spell creation. While experimenting with an ancient artifact he had earned from a particularly dangerous quest, he discovered he could create what the system called "Arcane Nodes." These nodes unlocked limited abilities that mimicked magic, like summoning small bursts of flame or manipulating objects at a distance. The system never explained how it worked—only that it was tied to his crafting and intelligence stats. He tried sharing his findings with a physicist he trusted, hoping for answers. The man studied the orb he had created, tested its properties, and eventually declared, “This thing defies everything we know. It’s like… physics doesn’t apply to it.” That was the last time [Player] tried involving the outside world in his powers.

By his mid-twenties, [Player] had become an expert at balancing his quests and daily life. The system allowed him to stack up to ten active tasks at once, and he often juggled them with precision. Some days, his life resembled a game of chess, strategically aligning quests for maximum efficiency. If he had to infiltrate a warehouse as part of one task, he would align it with a quest to steal a rare item within the same location, completing two objectives at once. Other days, the quests clashed. Once, he was tasked with protecting a high-profile CEO while simultaneously sabotaging the man’s business. The system offered no explanation for the contradiction, forcing him to decide which objective mattered more.

Then came the punishments. If failing minor quests in his youth meant small penalties, failing major ones in adulthood carried catastrophic consequences. During a mission to protect a young girl from an unknown assailant, he arrived too late. The girl survived but was gravely injured. "Critical Failure," the screen declared coldly, stripping him of 20 points from every stat for six months. He remembered how helpless he felt during those months, unable to defend himself or even think clearly. It wasn’t just the penalties that weighed on him—it was the knowledge that his failure had real, irreversible consequences for others.

Despite the hardships, [Player] continued to grow stronger. His stats climbed higher than ever before, except for one: a mysterious stat labeled "Mastery." It remained locked, unresponsive, even as the others soared. He tried everything to unlock it—completing high-risk quests, reaching extreme thresholds in other stats, even deliberately failing to see if it triggered something. Nothing worked. The system remained silent, as if taunting him with the one piece of the puzzle he couldn’t solve.

There were moments when he suspected the system wasn’t entirely for his benefit. During a chain quest to undermine a tech conglomerate, he realized the tasks were steering him toward sabotaging their research into artificial intelligence. The reward, a shimmering artifact labeled "Fragment of Control" held no immediate use. It felt as though the system had an agenda of its own, and he was merely a tool in its greater game.

Over time, [Player] formed tentative alliances with others who had unique abilities. Though none of them had anything resembling his system, they offered perspectives he hadn’t considered. The party subsystem allowed him to share temporary buffs and coordinate efforts, but it was clear he remained the sole focus of the system’s power. Only two people knew the full extent of his abilities: his best friend and the woman he eventually fell in love with. Even they struggled to grasp the enormity of what he faced daily.

The most difficult part of adulthood was reconciling his humanity with the system’s demands. It pushed him to extraordinary heights but at the cost of constant pressure and moral ambiguity. Every reward was hard-earned, every punishment a harsh reminder of his limits. And yet, he couldn’t imagine life without it. The [Abyss] still loomed as a tantalizing mystery, and he knew he wouldn’t stop until he unraveled the truth—about the system, about himself, and about what it all meant.

The world had its own way of maintaining balance, a silent yet undeniable force that ensured normality for the billions of ordinary people living within its boundaries. This force, known as the Will of [Gaia], was a subtle but unyielding presence that prevented those gifted with extraordinary powers from disrupting the fabric of everyday life. It was not a spoken rule nor a law written in books, but rather an intrinsic reality baked into the essence of the world itself. [Gaia] would not allow its natural order to be bent by the whims of the superhuman.

For as long as [Player] had been aware of his abilities, he had known about this mysterious force. It was the one rule that even the strongest could not break: those with power were bound to live their lives in a way that didn’t interfere with normal people. The consequences of ignoring this unwritten rule were swift and severe. If someone with supernatural abilities tried to gain an unfair advantage, whether it was by cheating at a game of chance or exploiting their strength for profit, [Gaia] would intervene with a vengeance. The stories were both infamous and chilling. A superhuman once used his abilities to predict lottery numbers, only to be struck by lightning three times in a row under a clear, sunny sky, his winnings burned to ash in the aftermath. Another attempted to use their strength to bully their way into wealth, only to fall victim to an absurdly improbable chain of accidents, leaving them destitute and broken.

The rules were clear: powers were for the extraordinary and for situations beyond normal comprehension. They were not tools for mundane gains, and any attempt to use them in such a way would provoke the wrath of the world itself. It was this unyielding force that had shaped the behavior of superhumans throughout history, forcing them to tread carefully and to respect the sanctity of normalcy. Even [Player], with all his unique gifts, knew better than to tempt fate by using his abilities in ways that would attract [Gaia]'s ire.

However, the existence of such powers inevitably led to conflicts, rivalries, and the need for a space where battles could unfold without risking the stability of the ordinary world. For this, the superhumans relied on what was known as "Sub-Space," an artificial dimension that perfectly replicated the real world. Sub-Space was both a refuge and an arena—a hidden layer of reality that only the empowered could perceive and access. Within its confines, the rules of [Gaia] were temporarily suspended, allowing the wielders of extraordinary abilities to unleash their full potential without fear of consequence.

Sub-Space was an elegant solution to a complex problem. It was a realm that mirrored every aspect of the real world, from its geography to its architecture, but it was utterly devoid of normal people. When a conflict arose between superhumans, the challenger would initiate the creation of a Sub-Space by sheer will. The world would ripple subtly around them, unnoticed by ordinary humans, and the combatants would be pulled into the alternate dimension. There, they could settle their differences in a clash of strength, skill, and strategy, free from the constraints of [Gaia]’s omnipresent will.

For [Player], Sub-Space was both a battlefield and a sanctuary. It was a place where he could test the limits of his unique system, pit his abilities against others like him, and grow stronger without worrying about the world’s balance. But it was also a constant reminder of the invisible boundaries imposed upon his kind. No matter how powerful he became, he was still subject to the unspoken agreement between the superhuman and the world they lived in.

There were stories of those who tried to defy the rules of Sub-Space, attempting to draw normal people into their battles or using their powers recklessly outside its bounds. Such individuals always met with tragic ends. The consequences were often poetic, as if [Gaia] itself had a dark sense of irony. A telepath who tried to manipulate the minds of politicians was found raving mad in an empty room, his own thoughts turned against him. A speedster who attempted to rob a bank tripped over a seemingly innocuous crack in the pavement, only to collide with a tanker truck in a freak accident that made the news for its bizarre improbability.

[Player] understood these risks deeply. He had seen the fallout of others’ mistakes and knew that even with his unique system, he was not immune to [Gaia]'s judgment. Sub-Space was his only escape, the one place where he could be free to explore his potential without fear of retribution. But even within the safety of Sub-Space, the battles were not without consequence. The stakes were always high, with reputations, resources, and sometimes even lives hanging in the balance. Victory meant growth, a step closer to mastering his abilities and uncovering the secrets of his system. Defeat, however, could mean a loss of prestige, or worse—exposure to others who might seek to exploit his uniqueness.

Despite the challenges, [Player] thrived in this hidden world. He honed his skills in countless battles, using Sub-Space not only as a training ground but as a proving ground for his ambition. He met others like him, some allies, some rivals, all navigating the same precarious existence under [Gaia]’s watchful eye. Each encounter brought him closer to understanding his place in the grand design, and each victory solidified his status as one of the strongest among his kind.

But the existence of Sub-Space also raised unsettling questions. Who had created it, and why? Was it a natural extension of [Gaia]'s will, or was it the work of another force entirely? And most importantly, what lay beyond the boundaries of this hidden world? For all his power and knowledge, [Player] knew that the answers to these questions would not come easily. The system he relied on, the powers he wielded, and the Sub-Space he fought within were all part of a larger puzzle, one he was determined to solve.

As he stood on the edge of yet another Sub-Space battlefield, gazing at the reflection of the real world that surrounded him, [Player] couldn’t help but wonder. Was he playing the game, or was the game playing him? The thought lingered as the ripples of reality settled around him, signaling the beginning of another battle. One more step, one more challenge, one more piece of the puzzle. Whatever the truth was, he would find it. In Sub-Space, in the system, or beyond. One way or another, he would uncover the secrets of his world and the purpose of his existence.

As [Player] stepped into yet another Sub-Space battlefield, the familiar ripple of reality washing over him, he couldn’t shake the weight of the questions that had been building inside him. The system, the Sub-Space, [Gaia]—they were all intertwined, pieces of a grander design he had yet to fully grasp. He had come far since those early days of fumbling through simple quests and timidly using his abilities, but with every victory and every fragment of power he gained, the gaps in his understanding seemed to grow wider. What was the system? Why had it chosen him? And, most importantly, what was the [Abyss] that constantly loomed in the corner of his vision, shrouded in mystery?

This battlefield was different. His opponent wasn’t just another rival or a challenger testing their mettle. No, this time, he faced someone who had been watching him for far too long, someone who knew more about the system than he ever could have imagined. The man introduced himself as Atlas, a name that echoed authority, strength, and the weight of knowledge. Atlas was no ordinary opponent—his aura alone was enough to unsettle [Player]. As they circled each other, the replicated cityscape of the Sub-Space around them eerily quiet, Atlas began to speak.

“You’ve come far,” Atlas said, his voice calm yet commanding. “But you’ve only scratched the surface of what this system truly is. Do you think it’s here for you? That it’s your tool? Or are you just another cog in its design?”

[Player] clenched his fists. He had been asking himself those very questions for years, but hearing them voiced aloud by someone who seemed to hold the answers struck a nerve. “What do you know?” [Player] demanded, his system already flashing with combat prompts. His stats hovered in the corner of his vision, his options laid out before him, ready for the inevitable fight.

Atlas smirked. “Enough to know that you’re unique. The system doesn’t do this for everyone, you know. Most of us—those with powers—we don’t get the kind of interface you have. We don’t see stats, quests, or fragments of control. No, you’re different. And that makes you dangerous.”

The battle erupted before [Player] could respond. Atlas moved with precision and power, wielding abilities that bent the environment of the Sub-Space to his will. Buildings shifted and collapsed, the ground warped and twisted, and the air itself seemed to pulse with energy. But [Player] was no stranger to chaos. His system guided him, displaying weaknesses in Atlas’s movements, calculating the optimal strategies for counterattacks. It was a clash of titans, each blow reshaping the simulated world around them.

As the fight dragged on, [Player] began to understand the gravity of what Atlas had said. The system had always felt too tailored, too perfect. The quests, the rewards, the punishments—they weren’t just random. They were deliberate, crafted with a purpose he had yet to uncover. And now, facing someone who clearly knew more than he did, the weight of that purpose pressed down on him harder than ever.

The battle ended with Atlas retreating, his form flickering as he dissolved into the Sub-Space. “You’ll find the answers you’re looking for” Atlas said as he vanished, “but only if you’re ready to see them.”

In the aftermath of the fight, [Player] stood alone amidst the wreckage of the simulated city. The Sub-Space began to dissolve, returning him to the real world as the system displayed a new notification:

Main Quest Unlocked: Uncover the Truth of the System.

The text glowed ominously, and for the first time, [Player] felt a chill run down his spine. This wasn’t just another quest. This was the culmination of everything he had worked toward, the key to the mysteries that had haunted him for so long. But the quest came with no instructions, no clear objective. Just a single word lingered beneath the title: “Survive.”

The days that followed were unlike anything [Player] had experienced before. The system became more erratic, issuing quests that pushed him beyond his limits. He was tasked with fighting increasingly dangerous opponents, navigating impossible scenarios, and making moral choices that left him questioning his humanity. And through it all, the specter of [Gaia] loomed ever closer, its silent judgment a constant reminder of the fragile balance between the empowered and the ordinary.

It was during one such quest that [Player] encountered something new: a fragment of what he could only describe as the system itself. Deep within a Sub-Space labyrinth, he found a glowing construct, pulsating with energy and surrounded by a dense aura of power. As he approached, the system’s usual notifications faltered, glitching and stuttering as though the presence of the fragment was interfering with its function.

When he touched it, his vision went white. The world around him faded, replaced by an endless void filled with cascading data streams and shifting patterns of light. A voice—calm, neutral, and omnipresent—spoke directly into his mind.

“You seek the Abyss,” the voice said. “But the Abyss is not what you believe it to be. You are both the player and the played, the wielder and the tool. Your existence is the system, and the system is yours.”

The words resonated with a truth he couldn’t fully comprehend, but before he could ask questions, the void dissolved, and he was back in the real world. The fragment was gone, and his system had returned to normal, but something had changed. The "Mastery" stat that had remained locked for so long now glowed faintly, its value slowly increasing.

From that moment on, [Player] knew his journey was far from over. The system wasn’t just a tool; it was a test, a puzzle, and perhaps even a prison. The [Abyss] was more than just a final objective—it was a revelation waiting to be earned, a truth that would reshape everything he thought he knew.

As he stood at the crossroads of his journey, the world and its hidden forces pressing in on all sides, [Player] took a deep breath and prepared for the challenges ahead. He had come too far to turn back now. Whether it was in the Sub-Space, within the system, or against [Gaia] itself, he would find the answers he sought. One way or another, he would reach the Abyss. And when he did, the world would never be the same.

The world seemed quieter after that day, as if holding its breath for what was to come. [Player] knew better than to trust the calm. The system had always been a constant in his life, providing structure and challenge, but now it felt different. Every quest that appeared felt heavier, more deliberate. The phrase "Uncover the Truth of the System" lingered in his mind like a thorn. It was as if the system itself was pushing him toward something monumental, yet refusing to reveal its hand entirely.

The "Mastery" stat continued to glow faintly, its value increasing at a glacial pace with each completed quest. It was agonizingly slow, and there was no clear way to accelerate it. [Player] tried everything: completing the most dangerous missions, crafting unique items, even experimenting with the rules of Sub-Space to see if it triggered any changes. The stat moved when it wanted, on its own terms, as though mocking his attempts to control it.

One night, after a particularly grueling quest that had him navigating a collapsing Sub-Space while fending off multiple attackers, [Player] collapsed in his apartment. The system displayed its usual completion screen, along with a modest reward, but his heart wasn’t in it. He stared at the "Mastery" stat, willing it to reveal its purpose, but it remained silent. For the first time, he felt a flicker of doubt. Was he chasing something unattainable? Was the [Abyss] even real, or was it just another cruel trick of the system?

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. It was late, far too late for visitors, but the knock came again, louder this time. [Player] opened the door cautiously, his system automatically analyzing the figure standing in the hallway. It was a woman, tall and imposing, with an air of authority that made the hairs on his neck stand up. The system identified her as "Cipher" though her stats and abilities were obscured, something he had never seen before.

"You’ve been busy," she said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. Her voice was cold, clipped, and carried the weight of someone used to being obeyed. "Too busy for your own good."

[Player] narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?" he asked, his system already preparing for a potential conflict. Sub-Space didn’t activate automatically; she hadn’t made any hostile moves yet, but he wasn’t taking chances.

Cipher smirked. "Someone who knows more about your precious system than you ever will" she said. "And someone who can help you—if you’re willing to listen."

Her words set off alarm bells in [Player]’s mind. He had met others with powers before, but no one who spoke with such certainty about the system. Most people didn’t even understand it, let alone claim to know its secrets. "What do you want?" he asked warily.

"I want to make sure you don’t destroy yourself chasing something you can’t comprehend" Cipher said. She leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. "The Abyss isn’t what you think it is. It’s not some ultimate power, or a final reward. It’s a trap."

[Player] felt a chill run down his spine. "A trap? What are you talking about?"

Cipher’s smirk faded, replaced by a look of grim seriousness. "The system isn’t just a tool, [Player]. It’s a test. A filter. It was designed to weed out the weak and the unworthy, to find those who can survive its trials. But the Abyss? That’s the final filter. It’s where those who’ve made it this far either transcend—or are erased."

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. Transcend or be erased? The idea was so absurd, so horrifying, that he didn’t know how to respond. "Why would the system do that?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Cipher shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe it’s [Gaia]’s way of controlling the balance, making sure no one gets too powerful. Maybe it’s something older, something beyond even [Gaia]. What I do know is that once you reach the Abyss, there’s no turning back. You either become something beyond human—or you disappear."

[Player] stared at her, his mind racing. Everything he had worked for, every quest he had completed, every fragment of power he had earned—it had all been leading to this. A moment where he would be forced to confront the system itself, to face whatever it had been preparing him for. And there was no guarantee he would survive.

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked finally.

Cipher studied him for a long moment. "You have two options," she said. "You can walk away. Ignore the Abyss, live your life quietly, and let the system fade into the background. It’s possible—difficult, but possible. Or…" She hesitated, as if weighing whether to continue. "Or you can prepare. Keep pushing forward, keep growing stronger, and face the Abyss head-on. But if you choose that path, you need to understand the stakes. This isn’t just about you anymore. The Abyss affects everything—everyone. If you fail, it’s not just you who’ll suffer."

Her words hung in the air like a storm cloud. [Player] knew he couldn’t just walk away. The system had been a part of his life for so long, shaping him, guiding him, that the idea of abandoning it felt impossible. But the thought of facing something that could erase him—or worse—was almost too much to bear.

Cipher seemed to sense his turmoil. "You have time" she said, her tone softening slightly. "Not much, but enough to make your choice. Think carefully, [Player]. The system is relentless, but it’s not invincible. If anyone can beat it, it’s you."

With that, she turned and left, leaving [Player] alone with his thoughts. The room felt colder, emptier, as if her presence had drained the energy from the air. He sank onto the couch, staring at the glowing "Mastery" stat on his screen. It pulsed faintly, as if mocking him, reminding him of the questions he still couldn’t answer.

The days that followed were a blur of quests and preparation. [Player] threw himself into his tasks with renewed determination, determined to grow as strong as possible before the Abyss began. He crafted new weapons, unlocked powerful abilities, and honed his skills in Sub-Space battles. Every fragment of power he earned felt like a step closer to the answers he craved, but also a step closer to the unknown.

And then, one day, the system delivered the message he had been dreading.

Final Quest Activated: Enter the Abyss.

The notification glowed on his screen, its text pulsing with a sense of finality. [Player] took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly as he read the words. This was it. The moment he had been preparing for his entire life. There was no turning back now.

As he stepped into the shimmering portal that appeared before him, the world around him dissolved, replaced by an endless expanse of light and shadow. The system’s voice echoed in his mind, calm and neutral as always.

"Welcome to the Abyss."

And with that, [Player] took his first step into the unknown, ready to face whatever awaited him on the other side.

The expanse of light and shadow seemed to stretch infinitely, a vast void that [Player] could barely comprehend. He floated within it, neither falling nor standing, his sense of direction obliterated by the overwhelming presence of the Abyss. Panels flickered erratically around him, their usual structure and logic warped. His health bar, stats, and inventory appeared, then disappeared, as though the system itself was struggling to maintain cohesion in this realm.

The system’s voice spoke again, calm yet resounding, echoing in his mind like a judge reading a verdict.

“Abyss Protocol Initialized. All progress, decisions, and outcomes have led to this moment. Success or failure will determine the fate of the system and its wielder.”

[Player] took a deep breath. He felt his system activating around him, offering options, stats, and loadouts as it had so many times before. But something was different. The panels displayed a warning he had never seen: "Resource Allocation Finalized. No Adjustments Allowed."It hit him like a cold wave. Every choice he had made up to this point—every skill he had unlocked, every stat he had leveled, every item he had crafted—was locked in. There would be no last-minute adjustments, no correcting mistakes. This was it.

The silence of the void broke as the world around him began to shift. The light and shadow coalesced into a landscape that mirrored Sub-Space yet felt alien in its perfection. The ground was smooth, reflective like polished glass, stretching endlessly in all directions. Shapes began to rise from it—monolithic structures, twisted spires of light and dark, and what appeared to be distant mountains that pulsed faintly, as though alive. It was a battlefield designed for one purpose: to test him.

Ahead, a figure emerged, stepping out of the shimmering void as though it had been waiting for him all along. At first, it looked humanoid, but as it drew closer, its form shifted, blurred, and warped. It was a reflection of [Player] himself, yet distorted—an echo of his stats, his abilities, his choices. The system identified it simply as "The Arbiter."

The Arbiter spoke, its voice a twisted version of [Player]’s own, layered and hollow. “You seek the Abyss. To transcend or be erased, you must face yourself. Your decisions, your failures, your victories—all will be judged.”

Before [Player] could respond, the battle began. The Arbiter lunged forward, moving with the speed of a lightning strike, and [Player] barely managed to dodge. The impact of its attack shattered the reflective ground, sending shards of energy spiraling into the void. His system activated reflexively, highlighting weaknesses in the Arbiter’s form, but they shifted constantly, making it nearly impossible to land a decisive blow.

The fight was unlike anything [Player] had ever faced. The Arbiter mimicked his every move, countering his skills with identical ones and exploiting gaps he hadn’t even realized existed. It wasn’t just a physical battle—it was a mental one. Every misstep, every inefficient choice he had made throughout his journey was thrown back at him, each mistake amplified into a weapon.

As the battle raged, [Player] began to see flashes of his past. The Sub-Space battles where he had faltered, the quests he had failed, the penalties he had suffered—they all appeared as spectral images in the Arbiter’s attacks. A failed dodge became the memory of a young girl he hadn’t been able to save. A blocked strike resonated with the weight of moral compromises he had made to gain power. The Arbiter wasn’t just fighting him—it was holding a mirror to his soul.

But [Player] wasn’t without his own strength. The system, though rigid, had always been his ally. He accessed his most powerful abilities, chaining together moves that he had mastered through years of practice. He used artifacts he had crafted, summoning bursts of fire and waves of energy to push the Arbiter back. Each time he landed a hit, the battlefield seemed to shift slightly, the structures in the distance bending and warping as though responding to his will.

The Arbiter faltered for the first time when [Player] unleashed a combination of crafted relics—an "Ethereal Blade" enhanced with a "Time Distortion Field." The blade cut through the Arbiter’s defenses, and the distortion field slowed its counterattack just enough for [Player] to strike again. The impact sent the Arbiter skidding back, cracks forming along its distorted form.

“You think you can win?” the Arbiter hissed, its voice dripping with disdain. “You are nothing but a construct of the system, a puppet given the illusion of choice. What makes you think you can defy it?”

[Player] gritted his teeth. “Because I’m more than just a player. I’ve fought for every piece of power I have, every skill, every fragment. I’ve made mistakes, but I’ve also learned. And I’m not going to let you—or the system—decide my fate.”

The Arbiter screamed, its form splitting apart into multiple clones, each one mirroring a different stage of [Player]’s growth. There was the awkward boy who had first discovered the system, the determined teen who had pushed himself to his limits, the confident adult who had dominated Sub-Space. They attacked in unison, a perfect storm of his past selves coming at him from all directions.

[Player] fought with everything he had. He blocked, dodged, and countered, his system working overtime to analyze the chaos and highlight the smallest openings. It wasn’t enough to simply react—he had to adapt, to evolve. He accessed the crafting interface mid-battle, combining relics and skills in ways he never had before. A "Gravity Anchor" fused with a "Kinetic Amplifier" allowed him to create an area of crushing force that temporarily immobilized the clones. He used the moment to strike, pouring everything he had into a final attack.

The Arbiter shattered, its form dissolving into fragments of light that scattered across the battlefield. The ground beneath [Player] steadied, the twisted structures around him fading into the void. The silence returned, and for a moment, it felt as though he was alone.

Then, the system’s voice spoke again.

“Abyss Protocol Complete.”

The glowing panels appeared once more, but they were different now. The stats were gone, replaced by a single notification:

"Transcendence Achieved: A soul of god-like calibre, the vessel has reached its peak and can no longer be strengthened."

The void around him shifted, collapsing inward, and for a brief, terrifying moment, [Player] felt as though he was being pulled apart. But instead of pain, there was clarity. He saw the system not as a tool or a test but as a mechanism, a part of something far greater than himself. He glimpsed the threads of reality, the intricate web that connected [Gaia], the Sub-Space, and every empowered individual like him.

When the light faded, he found himself standing in the real world once more. The system was gone. The panels, the quests, the stats—they had all disappeared. But he didn’t feel weaker. If anything, he felt more alive than ever, as though the power he had spent his entire life pursuing had finally become a part of him, no longer separate but fully integrated.

For the first time, [Player] understood. The Abyss wasn’t about reaching a destination—it was about becoming something greater, about breaking free from the constraints of the system and embracing the limitless potential of existence.

He took a deep breath, the weight of the journey behind him and the infinite possibilities ahead. Whatever challenges awaited, he was ready. He had transcended the game, and now, he was truly free.

Decades had passed since [Player] had transcended the system. The world had changed in profound ways, though few could pinpoint exactly how. Empowered individuals—those gifted with abilities like his—had once lived in the shadows, bound by the rules of [Gaia], carefully treading the fine line between their extraordinary potential and the normalcy of the masses. But now, under [Player]’s leadership, they were united, stronger, and more disciplined than ever before.

The shift hadn’t been easy. [Player] spent years forming alliances, quelling rivalries, and convincing the scattered empowered beings of the world to come together. Many resisted, their egos and ambitions clashing with the idea of subservience to a leader. Yet, his sheer presence, his power, and the wisdom he carried from transcending the system eventually wore down even the most stubborn dissenters. Slowly but surely, he built something new—a guild, an alliance, a council of the most powerful and capable empowered beings the world had ever known. They became an order of protectors, each one striving not just for personal strength but for the collective improvement of their kind.

[Player] couldn’t explain why he was doing it, not even to himself. A faint but unshakable paranoia whispered at the edges of his mind, telling him that his transcendence wasn’t the end. The notification he had received all those years ago, "Transcendence Achieved," had felt final at the time, but now it haunted him. Something didn’t feel right. It was as though the system had left a lingering imprint in his mind, a quiet voice urging him to prepare. For what, he didn’t know. The thought consumed him, driving his every action. He pushed himself harder than ever before, striving to surpass even the godlike strength he had achieved, but with the system gone, he had no way to measure his growth. He couldn’t tell if he was improving, or if he had stagnated at the peak of his potential. It gnawed at him, this uncertainty, this inability to gauge his progress.

The empowered beings he had united grew stronger, faster, smarter. He shared every technique, every secret he had learned from his time with the system. Together, they delved into the mysteries of Sub-Space, discovering new dimensions and unexplored realms. They learned to manipulate its fabric, to harness its limitless potential, yet none could reach the heights [Player] had once known. Even with their combined knowledge and effort, the question of what lay beyond remained unanswered.

Decades turns into centuries. The empowered beings became a force to be reckoned with, their influence shaping the course of history itself. They protected humanity, defended the world from threats both internal and external, yet [Player] could never shake the feeling that it wasn’t enough. He worked tirelessly, building structures, fortresses, and networks of knowledge that spanned continents. He created new artifacts of power, forged alliances with otherworldly beings, and even explored the stars in search of something—anything—that could explain his lingering dread.

Then, one day, it happened.

Across the globe, every screen flickered, every light dimmed, and every person—empowered or not—found themselves staring at the same thing. A panel, translucent and glowing, appeared before them. It was identical to the ones [Player] had known so intimately, and yet it was different. This time, it wasn’t just him. It was everyone. All eighteen billion people on Earth.

Event Quest: Universal CollapseProgress: 0.7287000% / 100%

This is a fanfiction crossover between College Chemistry's altered earth and my new favorite cartoon- Fairly OddParents: A New Wish. If you don't have context, feel free to watch the show or just skip past this one and go to Ca.

The first 20 (10x2) episodes are on Netflix globally while the rest are coming soon.

I chose 'K' as the crossover chapter because it just give alkali metal vibes to me.

For context: soo there's this kid, Timmy, who had fairy godparents named Cosmo and Wanda, and a godbrother named Poof. So once Timmy turned 18, (according to a speculated timeline among the fandom) he lost his fairy godfamily.

Nobody knows for sure what happened to him next. Soo I don't know how many years later but this girl, Hazel Wells moved to the city, Dimmadelphia, soon after her brother left for college. Cosmo and Wanda, now on retirement, lived their lives as normal human beings.

But seeing Hazel's misery upon moving and her brother leaving, they come out of retirement, reveal themselves to her as fairies and become her new fairy godparents.

She had a bully... friend... frenemy... I don't know for sure what he is to her for sure, but he's a spoiled rich kid named Dev who really wants to impress his dad, who loves his ugly boots more than his son. So he mirrors his dad, and doesn't want to think for himself.

They became friends over a group project and then had a falling out at the Founder's Day festival. Dev, realizing his mistake, feels miserable... when he meets a fairy, who takes pity on him and becomes his fairy godparent. This fairy is grown-up Poof, who renamed himself Peri. And that's how the final episode on Netflix ends.

And that is where I'm starting the story. I know there's more episodes but I'm not considering them for now because if anyone decides to watch the show as of this point before watching, they're not way too confused. But one catch, everyone has powers too! Overpowered world indeed!

I'm imagining that the show is set in 2030, because there are a few tech things there like robot statues and stuff which aren't particularly 2024.

2030

"You're my WHAT?!" Dev exclaimed, leaping onto his feet.

"Fairy godparent. I grant your wishes, but I'm also your friend... well, I will be if you let me." Peri explained. This was his first godkid, and he did not want to mess up. He knew how much his parents helped their previous godkid. They were like a second family to the human boy.

To anybody else, Peri would have looked quite confident and peppy, but only the periwinkle-clad fairy knew the extent of the stress.

"Friends? I don't need friends." Dev scoffed. "But..." The boy was reconsidering his decision, thinking about how much a fairy godparent could help him. "I'm not turning down a gift."

Peri sighed. He knew Dev's type. They were brought up with every modern convenience in the world, but were hurting inside thanks to parental neglect. They think it's compensated by things, but no ten-year-old would admit that the things don't matter. Because let's be real, it makes for a great classroom flex.

Alright, Dev,” Peri said, trying to sound encouraging. “So, what do you want to wish for first?”

Dev thought for a moment, his mind racing with possibilities. “I wish… I wish I could impress my dad.”

Peri sighed. "That goes against Da Rules." He poofed up a purple book bigger than him. "Cannot wish for people's appreciation." He read aloud, then shook his head. "The Council added that in recently, after realizing that a lot of kids disrupt the space-time continuum by wishing for their crushes to notice them."

Dev frowned, then sat back down onto his bed. "Just my luck..." he grumbled under his breath.

Peri wanted to help the boy, he really did. But he couldn't risk getting them both in trouble. Not on his conscience. "I think you need a distraction."

He poofed on a lab coat and doctor's head lamp, then sat beside the boy. "So... what are your powers, Dev?"

"They're lame anyway..." he sighed dejectedly. "Not a single noble metal."

But seeing the expectant look in Peri's eyes, he whispered the powers softly. "It's... neon, silicon and potassium."

"Yo, that is cool!" Peri exclaimed, genuinely amazed by the combination. "You can make signs glow, work well with tech and deal with electricity."

"Yeah but it's no gold or platinum. At least silver! My grandfather Doug Dimmadome has gold. My father, Dale has platinum. I don't even have silver." he muttered, but then a little glint formed in his blue eyes.

"I wish I had gold as my power."

Peri nodded, although not as enthusiastically as usual. "Those aren't radioactive, or threatening so... all right. It doesn't really go against Da Rules." He waved his wand. Dev's eyes suddenly lit up like a flashlight, literally and figuratively.

"Cool!" He whispered, looking around as if through a car windshield, with the headlights on. "I love this power..."

Peri smiled, glad to have impressed his first godson. He felt like Dev was a real friend to him, so he descended slightly from his hover, landing on Dev's bed to sit beside him. "Thanks. I just hope I can live up to my parents' legacy... they're some of the best fairy godparents in all of history!"

"I know that feeling... the Dimmadome name is a lot to live up to..." Dev replied, turning off his eye headlights, and turned to Peri. "I'm sure your family's good. You know... I think you're actually a good friend.

The periwinkle fairy's eyes welled up dramatically. "Really?"

“Yeah,” Dev said, a bit awkwardly. “I mean, you’re the first person who’s actually listened to me.”

Peri smiled, feeling a warm glow inside. “Thanks, Dev. That means a lot.”

Just then, the door to Dev’s room burst open, and his father, Dale Dimmadome, stormed in. “Devin, the power’s out in the house! I need you to fix it with your electricity powers.”

Peri startled with a jump, and poofed himself into a periwinkle comic book, which looked like Dev was reading. Nobody should know of his existence. Dev slid the comic a few inches away from him, a drop of sweat rolling down his forehead. "Can't you just call an electrician? Or have an O-PAIR drone do it?"

"It's part of my new cost-cutting tactic. Drones and robots need maintenance and maintenance people need money. I need the money for better things, like my new rockets I'm adding to my boots."

"But dad, you have hydrogen, you can float."

"Yeah and you have potassium. You can fix this." Dale snapped back. "So, fix it."

***

"What do you mean, it doesn't work?"

"I... I don't know, Dad."

Lie.

He knew it was Peri that altered his power. He had gold now, and he knew it well. But how was he supposed to say, 'Oh, I have a fairy godparent. I wished for him to change my power and then that happened.'

"O-PAIRs," he beckoned to the two drone s hovering in the air beside him. "Take Devin to that elementalist. That blondie who came for his test. A real no-nonsense woman, I must say. I have to call an electrician." He cared more about his electricity than his son's elemental wellbeing, it seemed.

The O-PAIR drones whirred to life, their mechanical arms gently guiding Dev out of the room. He glanced back at the periwinkle comic book, hoping Peri would stay hidden.

As they made their way to the elementalist’s office, Dev’s mind raced. He had wanted to impress his dad so badly, but now he felt like he had made everything worse. The gold power was cool, but it wasn’t practical for situations like this.

When they arrived, the elementalist, Dr. Aurelia Oxide, greeted them with a warm smile. “Hello, Dev. What seems to be the problem? Your father sent you here with the drones, I see...”

She knew better than to deal with the boy's obvious daddy issues. Elements were more her thing.

Dev hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “I… I think my powers aren’t working right.”

Dr. Oxide raised an eyebrow. “Let’s take a look.” She led him to a diagnostic machine and began running tests. As the machine hummed and beeped, Dev felt a knot of anxiety tighten in his stomach.

After a few minutes, the young doctor looked at the results, her expression puzzled. “It seems your potassium power has been replaced with gold. That’s highly unusual. Have you experienced any unusual events? Anything fairly odd, I guess?”

Dev’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t tell her about Peri. “Uh, no. Nothing like that.”

Aurelia nodded slowly. “Well, gold is a valuable power, but it’s not as versatile as potassium. It might be worth considering a way to restore your original abilities.”

She knew how gold worked. She used it. She was basically named after it. After all, its luminescence saved her and her roommates from blackouts over the years.

Dev sighed. “Is there any way to do that?”

"Well... I'm not too sure, so I'd suggest you speak to a more experienced elementalist... my father would know, but he's been retired for years now." she thought to herself.

"I see... totally unrelated. Well... there is one thing, but I need to have you sign a contract."

She produced a sheet of paper, with three or four paragraphs on it. Dev sighed, grumbling a bit. "I wish I could just have it shortened..."

His keychain in his pocket vibrated ever-so slightly and the contract seemed to become more comprehensive. "You're going to have a fairy cast a spell on me?" he read.

Aurelia gasped slightly. "How did you..."

"Always read the fine print."

"Smart kid." Aurelia nodded.

"Wait... a fairy? Those are real?! And here I thought that bald Crocker guy from the Galax institute was fresh out of an asylum." Dev shook his head. He really did think that about the weird creature of a man until he met Peri.

Aurelia smiled. "Was it a fairy though?"

"Okay... it was." Dev confessed. "I wanted to impress my dad by getting the same powers as him."

"Well... I had a fairy godparent. She was amazing. It was from around 2009, when I was three. Till I was twelve, and we had a huge disagreement about a guy."

"How does that work? You're a human. She's a fairy."

Aurelia's eyes widened with disgust. "What?! No, eww! She wanted to marry this one fairy guy, and I could not stand the idea of having him as my fairy godfather. I'd met him before, and... boy, was he stupid or what!"

"Uh-huh..."

"I tried to convince Wanda over and over again that Cosmo's not as good as her fantasy at all. So then we had a fight. The two of them got married soon after, then I don't know what happened next. Most kids forget their fairy godparent at eighteen, but I lost mine at twelve. 2018, if my math is right." she sighed, as she thought about her pink-haired fairy godmother. She wore her hair in a distinct curl, and knew about a hundred different shades of pink.

"WAIT--" came a third voice. "What did you say her name was again?"

"Wanda," Aurelia answered, though there was no one in the room except her and Dev. She figured it was just the sunglasses wearing rich boy seated on the patient's chair.

"That's my mother..." Peri answered, poofing onto the table. "And my father is Cosmo."

Aurelia's eyes scanned the young adult fairy, most probably 18 or 19 years old if he was a human. She had received a letter from Wanda once, reaching out to her. It was a year after Aurelia renounced Wanda.

"Dear Aurelia," it said. The golden girl could almost recite it.

"It's me, Wanda. I'm just writing to talk to you about my life. First of all, I told you so. Cosmo is super sweet, actually, but he is a bit clumsy, to say the least. Sometimes I get so mad that I think that I agree with you that I shouldn't have  married him.

But let's look at the positives. Soon after we got married, we became the godparents of a ten-year-old boy from Dimmsdale, Timmy Turner. He lives across the Atlantic though - in the USA, while you're in Cobalt Crescendo, a city-state in, Europe.

We even have a child of our own, Poof. The first baby fairy born in years. The two boys and Cosmo make me feel like the luckiest fairy in the universe...

I know it's been a year now, but I still miss you. All this nonsense over a boy is quite silly -- I agree with you on that one. I know we can probably never see each other again, but I just want you to know that I still love you, Auri.

Give my love to Xeno and Fluora, from your missing-for-a-year pink notebook.

~ <3 Wanda"

"I see her in you, Peri..." Aurelia mouthed, her eyes nearly watering. "Did she ever tell you about me?"

Peri nodded quietly. "She told me that... that you were a quiet girl. You were sheltered by your parents out of their concern. You never left the university, and even if mom suggested that you wish to leave, you were so afraid to leave that all your magical adventures happened indoors."

Aurelia smiled wistfully. “Yeah, that sounds like me. I was always too scared to step outside my comfort zone. But Wanda made those indoor adventures magical. She was my best friend.”

Peri’s eyes softened. “She always spoke fondly of you. She said you had a heart of gold, even if you didn’t realize it.”

Aurelia chuckled softly. “She had a way with words. I guess that’s why she was such a great fairy godparent.”

Dev, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke up, trying not to look too sappy as he enjoyed the moment. “So, what do we do now? How do I get my potassium power back?” he scoffed.

Aurelia took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. “Well, since Peri is here, he might be able to help. Fairies have a unique understanding of elemental powers. Peri, do you think you can reverse the wish?”

Peri nodded, though he looked a bit uncertain. “I’ll do my best. Changing powers isn’t easy, but I’ll try.”

He waved his wand, and a soft glow surrounded Dev. As the magic worked, Dev felt a familiar tingling sensation. When the light faded, he looked down at his hands, which were now crackling with tiny sparks of electricity once more.

“Potassium is back,” Peri said with a smile. “But remember, Dev, it’s not about impressing your dad. It’s about being true to yourself.”

Dev nodded, feeling a sense of relief. “Thanks, Peri. I won’t forget that.”

Aurelia watched the exchange with a warm smile. “You know, Dev, having powers is a gift, but it’s how you use them that really matters. Your dad will see that in time.”

Dev felt a renewed sense of determination. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Thanks, Dr. Oxide. And thank you, Peri.”

Peri grinned. “Anytime, Dev. That’s what friends are for.”

As they left the office, Dev felt more confident than ever. With his powers restored and a newfound understanding of what truly mattered, he was ready to face whatever challenges came his way. And maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to impress his dad without needing to change who he was.

From now on, I'm going to be writing stories that are 1st person POV but it's not real. None of it is real. Some are inspired by a true story, I will say if it is so whatever.

I walked to The Loser when the sky turned dusk, waited for the part-timer until closing. Most of the time, she would share dinner she made in the bar. Camel did not come back. Looking at the stain in the corner, I started to have an illusion that it looked like an old map of Western Europe. I saw Camel crawling eastward on the stain, maybe he was looking for an oasis.

The bar has been quiet, I guess it’s because there aren’t many angels getting married these days. If you attended the wedding of an angel and the groom wasn't you, you know you've always wanted to find a gloomy place to have a drink and talk to someone, about some stories with her or without her.

The Loser is a gloomy place. Almost as grim as eyes of Tony Leung.

"Hey, I heard some rumors about you at school today." Said the part-timer.

"Oh."

"You're in a relationship with a girl from our school, right?"

I thought about it for a while. "Not quite sure." I said.

"Well, I don't know if it would hurt you, if I said," she thought for a while and said. "Many guys are pursuing that girl."

"Because, this is a cozy summer."

"But don't you mind?"

"Didn’t you say that this was a rumor?"

"Well, that's what I heard."

"There is a rumor that I have two ducks as pets."

"Well, that's not surprising," she said with a serious look.

"Some people say that my left leg is prosthetic."

"This is not impossible," she said with a soft nod.

"Um…" I sighed. "Then you can take it as a fact."

"If you treat her better, she will ignore those admirers."

"We are not a couple." I denial.

"Really? Not?"

"Not."

"Oh, that’s too bad."

"Hmm, why?"

"… my ex is very close to her."

"Are you worried about them getting together?"

She nodded. "A little."

"Don't worry," I soothed her softly. "She is a good girl."

She punched me in the face.

"The bar won't be open tomorrow." She said when I sent her home.

"Uh, is this okay?"

"Well, Camel said it’s fine."

"So, I don’t have free dinner then."

"Do you have a kitchen at home?"

"I have. Doesn’t everyone have a kitchen in their home?"

"Then I'll go to your house and make dinner."

"It’s not needed." I said. "It doesn't matter if I eat alone."

"I eat alone, too." She looked a little tired.

"Hmm..." I said. "But do you know my home?"

"How do I know? Come and take me."

"Well, that's fine." I said.

"That's it." Without saying anything else, she walked into her house.

Roxy's Pov

The night was quiet, but my thoughts were loud, spiraling like a storm I couldn’t outrun. I sat cross-legged on my bed, the dim glow of the streetlights outside seeping through the blinds. My journal lay open in front of me, pages filled with raw, messy emotions from years of trying to understand why my life was the way it was.

The house felt emptier than usual, though that was probably because Evie and Axel weren’t home. My parents—if you could even call them that—weren’t exactly the nurturing type. At thirty-two, they still acted like teenagers who had no idea what to do with a kid, let alone one like me.

A kid they didn’t ask for. A kid they didn’t want.

The court hearing tomorrow loomed over me like a dark cloud. Everyone said it was a chance for something better, but all I could feel was dread. What if it didn’t work out? What if Sam and Colby couldn’t save me? The thought of going back to this chaotic excuse for a home made my stomach churn.

I flipped to an older journal entry, the words blurring as I tried to focus.

"Why don’t they love me the way they’re supposed to?"

That line hit like a gut punch every time. I didn’t write it for dramatic effect; it was just the truth. Evie cared more about her social life than she ever cared about me. Axel spent more time drinking and ranting about how unfair life was than being a father.

I slammed the journal shut, the frustration bubbling to the surface. My hands were shaking again—whether from hunger, exhaustion, or anxiety, I couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter. The feeling was too familiar.

The sound of the front door slamming made me flinch. Axel’s heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway, followed by his slurred muttering. I froze, my heart pounding. The man didn’t even have to say a word, and I was already bracing for the worst.

“Roxy!” His voice cut through the quiet like a blade.

I didn’t answer.

The door to my room flew open, and there he stood, reeking of alcohol and bad decisions.

“What’s this I hear about court tomorrow?” he sneered, his bloodshot eyes narrowing.

I sat up straighter, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. “It’s about you and Evie being unfit parents. You know, the truth.”

His laugh was bitter. “You think those YouTuber idiots can take you away from me? You’re mine, Roxy. Always will be.”

I met his gaze, my green eyes sharp with defiance. “You’ve never treated me like I was yours. Why should I stay?”

For a moment, he didn’t respond, just stared at me like he was trying to figure out if I was worth the effort. Then he scoffed and slammed the door behind him, leaving me in the heavy silence.

I leaned back against my pillows, letting out a shaky breath. My fingers brushed against the cool metal of my eyebrow piercing, then trailed to the helix piercing on my left ear. The small studs in my lobes glinted faintly in the dim light. Those tiny pieces of jewelry felt like little acts of rebellion, reminders that I was carving out an identity in spite of everything.

Tomorrow could be the start of something better. If Sam and Colby really wanted to save me, I had to trust that they could.

But for tonight, all I could do was close my eyes and hope that when I woke up, this nightmare would finally be over.

POUR UP,005❛yougot questions, i got answers tonight❜

⊹

SHE GAZESin the mirror at her seductive appearance. The satin, beaded sangria-colored dress drapes Nari's figure as the black heels cling to her feet. Delicate crystals adorn her ears as she slides a few rings and bracelets to complete her look.

She shoots a text to her friends signaling that she's on her way before grabbing her purse. Nari walks around her apartment doing a quick check before she's startled.

Her head whips around as her bag escapes her hand as she is spooked at the sudden knock on her door. "For fuck's sake," she mutters with a scowl snatching her bag and placing it on the nearby marble counter. She grabs the doorknob to find the source of the scare she was treated to.

Her eyes grow cold as her gaze sharpens, her mood sours instantly at the sight of his face. "What are you doing here?"

Dean faces the unhappy woman feeling all his previous courage vanish at the sight of her rigid posture. "I-I want to talk. You won't answer my calls, so I thought I should come see you," he clears his throat trying to rid the anxiety from his voice.

Hearing her scoff his eyes find her eyes rolling unimpressed at the gesture, "How sweet." Yet, Dean can tell she didn't mean it. He can tell she wants to see him walk away so she can enjoy her night. Seeing her attire, Dean can only imagine the events she and her friends have planned for the young night.

However, he doesn't care.

Dean doesn't want her to leave to be around other men looking as radiant as she does. He wants to grovel and earn her forgiveness, this is his chance.

Dean watches as Nari completely ignores his stare and grabs her keys and mini black purse. She heads straight toward him, so he backs away from the door and watches her lock up. He begins to gather his words but she moves past him heading for the elevators.

"Please! Nari, hear me out at least. Then you can walk away and I won't bother you ever again," he desperately calls out to her.

He watches as hope returns to him as she turns around with heaving shoulders muttering a single word, "Speak."

"When I left, I went to go meet her and we talked. And I slowly realized that she only wanted me back because," Dean stumbles as he sees her beginning to lose in the conversation. "But that's beside the point, I came back because I want you to know how much I regret what I did, How I regret leaving you like that. I shouldn't have, I was stupid."

He pauses as the hot tears cascade down his flushed face, "I betrayed your trust and I disrespected you. You stuck by me knowing it was risky... you loved me. And I... love you."

Nari stares at him with quivering pupils, "Do you know how awful that felt? Watching you run to her without a second thought? You know the night you called me and asked me to come over when she came over? My ex called me right after and asked me to go to him. And I said no because I knew you were waiting for me."

Dean's jaw drops as he feels instantly guiltier. He cautiously walks toward her, watching the first tear roll down her perfectly painted face. Dean's hands softly grasp her chilly arms as she trembles. "You don't know how much that shit hurt when you couldn't do the same for me."

"I-I didn't know that," he meekly responds as she rolls her eyes.

"That was the fucking point... because I thought I found something better," Nari softly speaks taking a short breath.

"But I can still be that! I can be that, just take me back and I can be that for you," he says gripping her a little harsher as he grows more desperate.

Her head droops as she takes a moment. Everything between them was great before he slipped up. But there is the aching feeling of him perhaps breaking her trust again. But somehow it seems worth it.

"You better be glad you're so cute," she sniffles as she offers him a small smile stepping fully into his arms.

Dean's heartbeat fastens as he cups her chin, "You won't regret this."

"I better not," Nari breathlessly mutters, her breath hitching as she leans in, her lips capturing his.

The crisp mountain air wrapped around Clara like a comforting blanket as she stepped off the bus and into the heart of Everbrook. This was her first visit to a new town since leaving her last one due to trauma. It felt quieter here, nestled beneath trees whose branches whispered in the wind, a place that seemed to promise a fresh start.

As I walked, I noticed the cobblestone streets, the vibrant floral arrangements in unique color tones, and the quaint charm of the town. An old bookstore sat on the corner, the scent of fresh bread drifting from a nearby bakery. Everything about this place seemed unfamiliar but comforting, a world I would need to adjust to.

My gaze caught on a sign announcing the upcoming festival. The idea of seeing new things, experiencing a life I hadn't thought possible, excited me. It felt like a new chapter, a place to finally settle. Instead of focusing solely on the festival, I was more intrigued by the faces I might meet, new connections to make. Despite keeping myself closed off emotionally, I wouldn't let this opportunity slip by.

The air here felt different, heavier, yet lighter in some way. It was like the town was alive, glowing with possibility. The threads of emotional connection I had learned to sense over the years pulsed with shimmering energy as I walked, almost as if they were inviting me to join them.

I found a bench to sit on, old but sturdy, perfectly fitting the town's aesthetic. Across from me was a record store, its windows beckoning. A peaceful silence wrapped around me, and I could almost feel the weight of it in my chest. It was a feeling I hadn't experienced in a long time. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the peace settle deep within me.

When I opened my eyes, I stood and began walking through the town square. As I passed by, the whispers of emotions, loneliness, nostalgia, excitement, grew stronger. Each person I passed seemed to leave an imprint, a quiet hum of their feelings that I could sense.

But then something felt... off. The peacefulness was still there, but there was an undertone of something darker, something unresolved. I couldn't place it.

I walked a little further, my senses growing more alert, picking up on the odd contrast between the town's serenity and the strange, lurking tension in the air. People entered places, left them, but I could feel something else, the pull of unfinished stories, emotions left unspoken. The haunting truth lingered just out of reach.

I wandered a bit more before stepping into the record store, where I was greeted by a girl behind the counter. Audrey seemed to run the store alone, and I couldn't help but notice how well-kept everything was. The records, though old, were neatly arranged and up-to-date, with not a speck of dust to be seen.

Audrey stepped from behind the counter, the old wooden floor creaking underfoot. She looked surprised to meet a new face, newcomers were rare here, it seemed.

"What brings you to Everbrook?" Audrey asked, her tone light and welcoming.

I glanced around the store before looking at Audrey. "Just trying to find somewhere I can be myself again," she said, her voice a little tight.

"Well, you might have found it," Audrey replied, her smile warm enough to light up the dim room.

"I'm looking forward to it. I hope you're right," I said, still feeling a bit uneasy.

Audrey glanced at my dark grey jacket and unkempt hair. "You seem like the rock type. We've got plenty of those records here!" she said with enthusiasm.

"Was it that obvious?" I laughed softly, walking a little further into the store.

"Too obvious for my eyes to miss," Audrey grinned. "I'd say we're practically twins; except you've got the hair I wish I had."

"Guess we'll just have to call it what it is then. But my hair is not up for grabs anytime soon!" I'd say as I continued my search around the store.

I let my eyes wander around the store as it felt like a home in itself. The music blasting your typical pop-punk tunes, with the many records that I could not name half of. The store's warm, welcoming vibe seemed to tug at my heart, offering comfort I hadn't realized I needed. But beneath it all, I could feel a growing weight in my chest, a tightness in my throat. The contrast between the cozy, safe space here and the storm brewing inside me made my head spin. It was hard to relax, to let go of the emotions swirling within me.

The warmth of the store wrapped around me like a comforting embrace, the music soothing my restless mind. For a moment, I let myself forget the storm inside, focusing instead on the safe, familiar rhythm of the world around me. But as I lingered, I could feel the weight of the world pressing down again, that familiar tightness in my chest returning.

Leaving felt unbearable, even if only for a short time. The thought of walking away from this moment of peace consumed me, and I knew the storm would only grow stronger once I stepped outside. Despite the comfort it offered, the weight in my chest grew too much to ignore. I made my way toward the door, but before I left, I turned to say goodbye to Audrey.

I'd found a strong sense of belonging in this store. I had only been in the store for 30 minutes, yet it felt like I'd been there a lifetime. The thought of leaving, however temporary, was almost unbearable.

It was the same feeling I always had when it came time to move on. No matter how much I wanted to stay, I would always have to leave. The heaviness that came with that realization twisted in my gut.

I would feel the emotional storm and strands of contusions circling around me. A visual thunderstorm of emotions swirled around me, each step feeling heavier. A sense of dread, and a sense of grief, all from leaving a store.

I stumbled involuntarily, as I tried to calm myself down. "Breathe Clara, breathe. It's all you can do in this moment." I exclaimed to myself. I look around and around, visualizing faces, lost souls, sorrows from within. Was it just me, or was this emotion intertwined with something deeper?

"The hardest battles are fought in silence where the greatest enemies are our own fears."

The mind never makes sense. I can’t begin to fathom why it works as it does, but I also know it’s chemical. Then again, I hate that stupid response. Yes, we are science, and yes, we are all generally the same code. But why won’t you shut up? We are individuals that are connected. We cannot fit into those boxes. It is too complex and there is an exception to every exception. We cannot be included or excluded, we are everywhere and everyone. More fungus than not.

Do not make the mistake of seeing life as different for all but same for all. Nothing is repeated yet nothing is identical. We believe so much yet so little. The idea that all is false is entirely possible yet impossible, and here math says nothing is impossible. Too many rules and silly statements I try to not dwell on.

I am becoming simplified. My thoughts grow less unique in my perspective, but how should I know? I am one person but I also have the capability of being many. Such connections amongst all make imitation the easiest art. I can be who you want, who they want, yet not who I want. Who do I want? And why do I feel such an urge to change? And for who? Certainly not for you but almost entirely so.

I have no knowledge of you but I know you. I know your wonder and your worries and your fear and your love. I know what your breath is and your heart and your blinking. I know the structure of you. All we are is structure. Made from one assembly line with thousands of little hands with imperceptible differences passing down to us.

Can you grasp as I do? Match me perfectly until there is no me, no you, only us? You can’t, but maybe you can if we follow the rule of logic. Why logic? Why not simple belief? Because simple no longer exists. There is too little and too much belief that words no longer encapsulate. Is it possible to have too much worry now, or is it just a different type? We worry about money, paying bills, spreading our hobbies and responsibilities. Is it possible that the stress of hunter gatherers match this in a similar format? Yes. We live to survive, no longer to love.

Love is secondary in life when it is meant to be life in a way we can express. I can’t gift you life so I gift you love. Only one does so and I am not yet a mother. Maybe I never will be. This is a possibility faced throughout time by mirrors of me, and yet that fear is as strong as always.

I am upset that I cannot live. We make life so easy, so efficient, only to get ourselves stuck in complexities. I want to swim, eat, breathe, fly, love, cry, hug, hold, be held, and match. This I cannot do because you say no, or maybe you don’t. I don’t know anything even when I want to know it all.

I can’t understand. I use big words and whatever sounds good. This is me but not me. The me I want to express is blank faced and screaming. She He They cry. Who am I if not a mess made by my own love? I love so hard that I hate what I see.

If I continue on, who will know? The answer can be none or it can be all or it can be love. So many possibilities.

I want to be known. I want to be loved. Be appreciated. Be seen as I am. I want to be told who I am so maybe the hurt will make sense and I can stop. What would I be stopping? Surely not the loathing I don’t have, the anger, the perpetual despair, the lingering sadness, the confusion, the cloudiness, the total and complete darkness. No.

I am human until I decide to love unconditionally. Until I decide to breathe easily. Until I decide that it is worth the risk or it isn’t. Until I rest. Until I do something just to do it.

I am not human. I feel anger at small things like breathing and talking and walking. The noises of society. Are my ears not made for them? What am I for? Love? Hate? The thorn in someone's mind? A scorn on the face, a blotch on the bloodline? Am I not a human?

If I am not human, then I will be love. I will And I will do so with the understanding that I already am these things.

I aspire to be forgotten but inescapable. I haunt my own narrative and live to spite myself. No one holds greater importance in my life and that only increases my hate. Who am I to be so selfish to care for myself above all else? I’m not. I have taught myself to love, to heal, to smile, to think, to understand, and to hate.

I say words but that is a lie. I can say I am a writer but that is a lie. I am nothing but everything. I am everything but nothing. I am in the air and taking it back, turning it into me until it is gone. I absorb without giving. I contribute so little yet so much. In insignificant ways I am significant. As are you.

See the beauty and become it for it is you. It has always been you.

We create in our image of love. Don’t hate the creation made so tenderly, so carefully.