Osamaru Ta
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[Revised] (WLTK) B1: Chapter 15 - "This Chapter Is All About 'You.'"
🕑 Added 2024-10-01 03:36:51 +0000 UTC——————✴——————
〖Jeremiah Bridge〗
Distinction: ☆
System Authority: Probationary [Tutorial]
User Grade: G - 9
Mental - (G): 4
Physical - (G): 5
Supernatural - (G): 0
User Skills: [2/5] [✚]
User Equipment: N/A
Active Bonds: [0/1]
——————✴——————
The longer Jeremiah stared at the glowing display in front of him, the sharper his headache became. The symbols, numbers, and bars stretched across the interface in a way that felt both familiar and entirely surreal.
“Mero…” Jeremiah’s voice came out flat and dry.
“How ya like it, Jerry-boy?” Mero chirped, flashing a lopsided grin.
Jeremiah shot the fairy a look, his patience thinning. “Mero, why do I have a literal character sheet in front of me?”
Mero’s grin only widened. He let out a burst of laughter, the sound bright and sharp. “Sarah said you’d say that!” He fluttered up beside Jeremiah’s shoulder, wings whirring. “Lemme break it down for ya. The ‘Status’ is just your user profile. Think of it as a neat summary of all things ‘you,’ as tracked by the System.”
Jeremiah scowled, glancing from the fairy back to the interface. “But why a character sheet, of all things?”
Mero shrugged with exaggerated casualness. “Ain’t really sure. But your sister, well, she made some… creative choices, ya know? My guess? She wanted to keep users interested. If you throw ten pages of medical history, technobabble, and arcane what-have-yous at someone, they’ll ignore most of it, skim the rest, and miss what’s important. But give ’em something that looks like a game or something they recognize? They’ll pay attention to what matters.”
Jeremiah let out a slow sigh. “Thus, the character sheet.”
“Thus, the character sheet,” Mero echoed with a wink.
He zipped off the table and hovered in front of Jeremiah, gesturing to the first highlighted section beneath Jeremiah’s name. “Now, let’s break this down, kid. Keep up.” He tapped the air, and the screen shimmered. “This right here is your Distinction level. Everything ya do to improve the System, or yourself, bumps it up. Higher Distinction means more perks, more abilities, more opportunities — but also more responsibility. Ya gain Distinction by completing missions, hitting personal milestones, and pushing boundaries. Simple as that. Contrast that with the next one…”
He pointed to another section, which brightened as he spoke. “System Authority is all about how much the System ‘trusts’ ya. It tracks not just potential, but how hard ya work, and how ya handle the goals it sets. Someone with less talent but strong grit? They’ll rack up Authority faster than some lazy genius. But the real prize is when motivation and talent go hand in hand.”
Jeremiah narrowed his eyes. “You keep talking like the System has opinions. Isn’t it just an app?”
Mero rocked his hand back and forth. “Eh, yes and no. It’s not alive, but it’s not just code, either. But it can and will react to your own desires and choices..”
For a moment, Mero hovered still and fixed Jeremiah with a meaningful stare. Jeremiah met the look, catching the warning beneath the words. Mero was trying to say more than he dared.
“But, ya, bein’ partly Wyrd, it has more… personality than a typical AI. Prove it can trust you, and it’ll offer more. Better features, custom options, even a few surprises. If Distinction unlocks the range of what the System can do; Authority opens its depths. The higher your Authority, the more likely the System is to listen when you want something special.”
Jeremiah nodded slowly, trying to piece everything together. “Let me guess. Authority’s the one that’s harder to raise?”
Mero’s eyes gleamed. “Got it in one. Yer catching on.” He tapped the air approvingly. “Yeah, Authority is tough. See, it doesn’t just affect your personal System. The higher your Authority climbs, the more the entire System starts paying attention to you. That means your choices, your goals, your changes — those start rippling out. It’s not a power we hand out lightly. Ya have to earn that kind of trust.”
The fairy slid Jeremiah a glance, voice dropping just a hint. “And Authority means you’re to more… restricted information.” His tone was casual, but Jeremiah felt his pulse spike, a prickling tension running down his spine.
Mero didn’t have to say it outright: prove yourself trustworthy, and I’ll be able to tell you more.
Jeremiah exhaled, feeling his shoulders relax. It wasn’t exactly satisfying, but it was something to hold on to.
With a sigh, he collapsed into a nearby chair. Mero watched, hovering patiently while Jeremiah gathered his thoughts.
“Now then,” the fairy continued, “the next sections are all about ‘You.’ First up is User Grade,”
“Mero…” Jeremiah interrupted, brow furrowing as he scanned the glowing interface.
Mero pressed on, unbothered. “We’re using the Nexus Threat Grading Scale. There’s a couple good reasons for that—”
“Mero,” Jeremiah said again, a touch sharper this time.
But Mero barely missed a beat. “Not perfect, sure, but it’s a solid baseline for all the sapient species and beasts out there. The System can scan a lifeform’s bio—”
“MERO!” Jeremiah snapped, raising his voice to cut through the fairy’s ramble.
At last, Mero paused, a sly smirk curling his lips. “Yes, Jerry-boy?” Amusement danced in his eyes.
Jeremiah’s eye twitched. Unbelievable. Now he was just having a laugh.
Fixing Mero with a hard stare, Jeremiah growled, “Mero, why does the System say I’m G-9?”
Mero’s grin only widened. “Why wouldn’t it? Because ya are.”
Jeremiah set his jaw. “Don’t start. My last medical exam pegged me at Mental G4, Physical G3. Baseline humanity. So why does the System suddenly think I’m borderline Gifted?” His words came out tight, frustration burning beneath the surface.
“Oh?” Mero drawled, floating a little closer. “So you’re already familiar with the NTGS? Why don’t you explain it to me?”
Jeremiah just glared, his silence warning Mero he was in no mood for more games.
The fairy held up his hands in mock surrender. “Humor me, Jeremiah. I promise I’m not just wastin’ your time. Like I said, there’s an order to these things.” He let his arms fall and exhaled, his voice growing more measured. “The System never assumes ya know anything, and while the NTGS is useful and pretty widespread, it’s not universal. Not yet. I gotta ask because the System adapts to yer understanding. If what ya know doesn’t line up with what it’s tryin’ to teach, things can get… strange.”
He met Jeremiah’s gaze, steady and serious for once. “The System as it is now was never meant for you alone. Yer just the first — hopefully, the first of many. I can at least tell you that much, since I know you’ve already put it together yourself.”
Jeremiah tapped his fingers against his arm, lips pressed thin. “So I’m just the Beta Tester, then?”
Mero’s grin widened. “Oh, you’re a lot more than that, but sure, think of it that way. For now, you’re quality assurance. Testing all the features, making sure there are no nasty surprises down the line.”
Jeremiah groaned and leaned back, dragging his hands down his face in pure exasperation. After a moment, he exhaled sharply. “Fine!” he muttered, then straightened in his seat. “I’ll play along. But cut it with the teasing and the riddles, alright? If you can’t tell me something, just say so. I’m tired, hurt, and not in the mood for games.”
Mero raised his hands again, conceding with a nod.
Taking a breath, Jeremiah sat up and spoke, his voice flat and precise, like he was reciting from a textbook.
“The Nexus Threat Grading Scale — NTGS — is a standardized test used to determine the threat level an entity poses to the general public. A person’s ‘Grade’ is determined by the combined score of their Mental, Physical, and Supernatural stats.”
He ticked each off on his fingers as he continued. “Mental measures a being’s ability to think, reason, and plan. Physical is all about physical capabilities — strength, speed, reflexes, all of it, augmented or otherwise. Finally, Supernatural measures a being’s capacity to bend their local reality.”
He glanced up at Mero, voice gaining a little life. “The Five Great Constellations of Reliquum — Law, Wyrd, Deviant, Magic, Dream — have so many subcategories of powers and weird abilities that it’s basically impossible to rank or even identify them all.”
Jeremiah shrugged, letting his tone relax into something more natural. “Especially on Nexus, where all five exist together. So, we lump everything under the catchall ‘Supernatural.’”
He raised his hand again, counting off. “Humans at baseline are typically G-6: M-G3, P-G3, S-G0. That’s a typical, fit adult who’s finished public school — no supernatural ability, nothing special. Just… normal.”
Jeremiah had always dreamed of awakening some sort of magical talent as a kid. He devoured stories of magic and adventure, spent hours immersed in video and VR games with supernatural themes, hoping that one day he’d be the one wielding power. But the odds were stacked against him from birth. For a human born under the Law Constellation, awakening magic was almost a statistical impossibility. It happened, of course, but it was far more likely to ‘Trigger’ a Tech-based Dream or Deviant ability — like Sarah had.
As for Law children who developed a connection to the Wyrd? There was a reason why tales of changelings and “taken” children were so common across so many worlds. And why they often ended in tragedy.
He couldn’t even cultivate, not on Nexus. That would require moving to a planet with the right blend of energies. A place where that particular Path was more than a dead end. Nexus just didn’t have the mix needed for that kind of growth.
Some forms of magic could be learned if you had the insane amount of money it took to hire a teacher. But those were mostly cantrips. Small magics that would barely register as S-G1 after years of study.
Still, Jeremiah pushed aside regrets and daydreams, returning to his explanation.
“Prima City requires all citizens to have a yearly grading, right alongside their medical checkups, just to keep track of anyone who might have triggered or awakened something new.”
He glanced at Mero, as if making sure the fairy was still listening, then continued. “Humans who test at Physical G4 are your professional athletes or others with exceptional physical conditioning. Just being in shape isn’t enough. Mental G4 tends to mean advanced education, specialized expertise, or decades of hard-won experience — people like chess masters, world-class artists, savants, that sort.”
He held up a finger, ticking off another point. “G5 is supposed to be the absolute peak of what a natural human can achieve. Anyone with a natural G5, in any category, is one of the elites — someone everyone notices, no matter where they go.”
Jeremiah paused, letting the weight of that statement hang in the air. “Anything above that — G6 and beyond —that’s augmentation territory. Magic, tech, or some kind of Gift. For humans, at least.”
A total grade of G-9 meant standing on the threshold of being “Gifted” — an elite among elites. Crossing that line, even a single point, was to be branded Gifted, with all the opportunities and risks that came with the title.
And that’s what left him so unsettled. His Mental G4 made sense. He’d worked for that, through sleepless nights and stubborn persistence. Seeing his upgraded grade after that exam had been one of the proudest days of his life. Sarah had taken him to an upscale restaurant in Center to celebrate, and even now, that memory was a comfort.
But his last medical check, only two months ago, had rated his physical at a solid G3. Nobody jumped two points in as many months. Not without major augmentation. Or Triggering.
So why did the System insist he had?
Jeremiah’s mind slipped back to the fight. The way the thugs had felt so… slow. The way moving had come so naturally. His blood chilled.
He glanced at Mero, whose smirk said he was enjoying this far too much.
“Mero…” Jeremiah’s voice dropped to a whisper, wary but needing to know. “What exactly did the System do to me?”
Mero’s grin only grew wider, as if delighted by Jeremiah’s confusion. “I know I’m repeatin’ myself, but it really is less than you’d think. The System didn’t add anything that wasn’t already there. All it did was take what ya had and… polish it until it shined.”
Jeremiah scowled, not satisfied with the answer. “But what does that actually mean?”
Mero folded his arms, closed his eyes, and tilted his head in thought. “Hmm… This one’s tricky, especially for someone not of the Wyrd. Bear with me.”
He opened his eyes and fixed Jeremiah with a steady look. “You already know the System is Wyrd-tech, right? It’s your sister’s madcap attempt to grab hold of raw Wyrd potential and not just give it function or direction, but purpose. Order where there was only chaos.”
Jeremiah nodded, listening intently.
Mero continued, “But see, that very idea runs against the grain of the Wyrd. Without a name, the Wyrd hates being bound or defined. It’s pure flux — always shifting, with no identity of its own. Even the Fae can’t escape that. If I went back to the Wyrd, the ‘me’ that returns wouldn’t be the same as the Mero standing here talking to ya. It would be the bit of the Wyrd that has taken up my ‘Name,’ carrying all the power, memories, and self that comes with it.”
He let that hang in the air for a moment, then added quietly, “That’s why names matter so much to the Fae. They’re an anchor. Something that lets us exist here, in this reality, as ourselves.” He hesitated, voice lowering even further. “And that’s also the real danger of that blade I gave you.”
Jeremiah’s eyes widened, piecing together what he’d just learned. He knew the Fae protected knowledge of the Wyrd like a dragon guarded gold. In part because such knowledge could be dangerous to everyone involved. You could find hints if you knew where to look, but there was always a price.
Trying to understand, Jeremiah frowned. “Wait, does that mean a Fae with multiple names could be equally different people simultaneously? Or if a name was traded away, they could meet ‘themselves’? How do you even conceptualize that as a people?” he asked.
Mero gave him a look that was both wry and weary, a flicker of ancient sadness in his eyes. “That’s just the way it is for us, lad. It’d be like me asking what it feels like for ya to sweat, or… take a dump.” He shuddered, wings flicking in distaste. “It’s just life as we know it.”
“Why do you mortals have so many weird, nasty bodily functions? It’s just strange.” Mero shook his head but pressed on. “Anyway, I digress. My point is, your sister did the impossible. She figured out how to direct raw Wyrd.”
He paused, dropping his voice to a barely audible whisper, as if the next words themselves were dangerous to utter.
“She learned how to make an artificial Name.”
Jeremiah frowned, giving the fairy an uncertain look. “Aren’t… all names artificial?” he asked.
Mero slumped, rubbing his temples as if warding off a headache. “See, this is why explainin’ things to a Law kid is always a pain. We’re not just talkin’ about a word here, Jerry. Sure, I could call you Bill, or John, or Suzy, and maybe you’d answer, but that wouldn’t be your Name.” His gaze sharpened, and the fae’s voice softened with an ancient certainty. “A Name isn’t just what you’re called. It’s what you are. It’s the shape your soul carves into reality — the very imprint of your being.”
Jeremiah nodded slowly, though he wasn’t sure he really understood. Still, he could sense this was a difficult topic for Mero. Maybe the conversation skirted the edges of what he was allowed to reveal, or maybe it was just Fae evasiveness. Either way, Jeremiah held his questions for now.
Mero took the opportunity to continue. “When I say your sister created an artificial Name, I mean she found a way to tell reality itself what something is — and the Wyrd listened. That’s huge, in ways I can’t even begin to explain.” For a moment, Mero’s eyes were distant, lost in some memory or truth too big for words.
Jeremiah rolled his hand, trying to bring things back to the present. “So… what does that have to do with my grades jumping two points overnight?”
Mero’s grin returned, as wide and sharp as ever. “Everything, kid. The System can take all that ‘raw potential’ inside you — the raw, the unformed, and the uncertain — and give it a Name of its own. It turns possibility into reality, potential into purpose. Like a lapidary carving a gem from rough stone. That’s the foundation for the next section on your Status.”
He gestured to the glowing [+] beside the next part of Jeremiah’s character sheet, golden light pulsing invitingly.
“Go on,” Mero said, waving him forward with a glint in his eye. “Open up your User Skills.”
