"Status."
He whispered to the system.
[USER STATUS: MARCUS THORNE]
[ORIGIN SKILL: LORD OF CONTRACTS (LEVEL 1)]
[CONTRACTED ALLIES: TEMPEST (LEVEL 4, 0%), WILL (LEVEL 2, 30%), AUTONOMOUS WHEELCHAIR (LEVEL 2, 50%)]
[EXISTENCE POINTS: 0]
[TRANSCENDENT RANK: F]
Marcus focused on his Tempest skill, feeling the evolved power that had replaced his basic Wind talent. The air around him stirred in response, currents swirling invisibly around his body. According to the system, flight was now possible—not just the partial levitation he had achieved before, but true, controlled flight.
"Let's see what you can do."
Marcus murmured in anticipation.
He extended his awareness into the air itself, feeling its density, its movement, its potential. With deliberate intent, he created pressure differentials—lower pressure above him, higher pressure below. The fundamental principle of lift, applied through supernatural means.
His body rose from the wheelchair, first inches, then a foot, then three feet above the seat. Unlike his previous attempts at levitation, this felt stable, controlled. He hovered in place, marveling at the sensation of weightlessness.
"Higher!"
He commanded himself, pushing more power into the skill.
The roof fell away beneath him as he ascended to ten feet, then twenty. A momentary surge of vertigo threatened his concentration, but his Will power stabilized his mind, keeping panic at bay.
—He was flying.
He was actually flying above the rooftop of his apartment building.
For seventeen years, Marcus had been defined by his inability to walk. He never would have imagined that within a few weeks, he would not only retain his mobility but soar effortlessly through the sky.
"I believe I can fly!"
Marcus sang, and peals of laughter escaped his lips shortly after. The sound was so unfamiliar that it startled him. When was the last time he had laughed? Before Mrs. Abernathy and his girlfriend's death, certainly. Perhaps before the car accident itself. The memory remained elusive, but right now, he felt comfortable letting his guard down.
The momentary distraction caused him to wobble in the air, but he quickly reasserted control.
This was no time for emotional indulgence. I should focus. This is training.
Marcus practiced basic maneuvers first: ascending, descending, and moving laterally in all directions. The control came more naturally than he had expected, as if his body remembered freedom of movement despite seventeen years of confinement. Within an hour, he was executing complex aerial patterns, banking and turning with growing confidence.
Next came the offensive capabilities. The air pressure blades that had sliced through an aluminum can in his apartment might be his primary weapon against the Vitality Wraith. He needed to master their creation, control, and deployment.
Marcus extended his right hand, focusing on compressing the air molecules around his fingers into an ultra-thin edge. The air visibly distorted, forming a transparent blade approximately eighteen inches long. He directed it toward a rusted ventilation duct, slicing through the metal with minimal resistance.
"Too easy."
He muttered, dissatisfied with the test.
He created another blade, this time focusing on extending its range. The air compressed into a narrower, more focused edge that he projected outward. From fifteen feet away, he sliced a clean line across the roof's surface, leaving a shallow groove in the weathered concrete.
For the next two hours, Marcus practiced variations of the technique: wider blades for sweeping attacks, narrower blades for precision, and multiple blades deployed simultaneously. Each variation required different mental focus and energy expenditure, but all proved effective against physical targets.
Whether they would affect a Vitality Wraith remained to be seen.
As the sun began to set, casting the rooftop in golden light, Marcus finally allowed himself to descend back to his wheelchair. Exhaustion weighed on him—not physical fatigue, as his paralyzed lower body didn't expend energy, but mental and spiritual depletion from sustained ability use.
He needed to build his endurance if he hoped to confront a Wraith. According to the Bestiary, such entities could wear down human opponents through relentless attacks. His current stamina might allow for ten, perhaps fifteen minutes of sustained flight and offensive action. Not enough for a protracted engagement.
As Marcus directed his wheelchair back toward the roof access door, his communication device chimed with an incoming message. He checked it, expecting perhaps a notification from the building management or an automated reminder about an upcoming bill payment.
Instead, he found a message from Devin:
"Hey, hope I'm not bothering you. There's a demonstration at the Eastern District Training Ground tomorrow evening. Professional Transcendents will be showcasing advanced techniques. Thought you might be interested. I can drive if you want company."
Marcus stared at the message, conflicted.
The Eastern District Training Ground.
This training ground was precisely where he had planned to begin his hunt and polish his abilities. A demonstration would mean crowds, security, controlled environment. It wouldn't be ideal for his purposes.
Despite these concerns, the opportunity to observe professional Transcendents might provide valuable insights. Having Devin drive him would solve the logistical challenge of reaching the training ground, which was several miles from his apartment.
After a moment's consideration, Marcus replied:
"I'd like that. What time?"
Devin's response came almost immediately:
"Great! Demonstration starts at 7. I'll pick you up at 6:15. It's casual, but bring ID for entry."
Marcus pocketed his device and continued toward the door. Tomorrow's excursion would be for reconnaissance. It was an opportunity to study the training ground's layout, security measures, and general atmosphere before returning for his actual purpose. In the meantime, he would observe the other professionals and perhaps learn techniques that might enhance his own powers.
Most importantly, he would assess the location's suitability as a hunting ground. If Vitality Wraiths were attracted to concentrations of spiritual energy, a gathering of professional Transcendents might draw them like moths to flame.
Back in his apartment, Marcus expanded the system interface once more.
"Is there any way to detect Vitality Wraiths before they manifest visibly?"
He asked tentatively.
[SEARCHING CONTRACTED KNOWLEDGE...]
[TEMPEST SKILL INCLUDES LIMITED SPIRITUAL SENSITIVITY]
[AT CURRENT LEVEL, CAN DETECT SIGNIFICANT SPIRITUAL DISTURBANCES WITHIN 10M RADIUS]
[WILL SKILL ENHANCES PERCEPTION OF INTENT AND HOSTILITY]
[COMBINED APPLICATION MAY PROVIDE EARLY WARNING OF ETHEREAL ENTITIES]
This was useful information. His current powers, while not specifically designed for detection, could be adapted for that purpose. With practice, he might sense a Wraith's presence before it fully manifested, giving him crucial moments to prepare for confrontation.
Marcus spent the remainder of the evening researching professional Transcendents who might appear at tomorrow's demonstration. The Eastern District Training Ground typically hosted mid-rank practitioners—D and C-Rank Transcendents demonstrating practical applications of intermediate techniques.
One name appeared repeatedly in the facility's event calendar: Elara Voss, C-Rank Wind specialist known for her innovative combat applications of what most considered a utility power. Her techniques might be particularly relevant to Marcus's evolved Tempest skill.
As he prepared for bed, Marcus found himself anticipating the next day's excursion with something approaching excitement—an emotion he was growing accustomed to. The prospect of leaving his apartment for something other than revenge or necessity felt strange but not unwelcome.
Perhaps Devin's unexpected friendship was having more impact than he had realized.
Sleep came easily that night, his mind and body exhausted from the day's training. For once, his dreams were not of Mrs. Abernathy's death, his girlfriend, or his parents' accident, but of flight. In his dream, he soared above the city, free from the constraints that had defined his existence for seventeen years. He even regained the use of his legs, but when he woke the following day, the wonderful dream shattered and faded into obscurity.