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C76 — Crisis (1) (Paid-Patrons)
🕑 Added 2024-11-16 20:39:08 +0000 UTCNothing has changed...
Nearly four hours of pure torture, and yet there's not a single improvement in any aspect of myself.
My Strength remains the same;
My Agility hasn't increased;
My Endurance is unchanged;
There's not even a slight enhancement in my Sensory capabilities.
It's not unexpected.
The Grasses were designed to enhance ordinary humans, putting them on somewhat equal footing with the Supernatural.
However, I was already stronger than most, if not all, Monsters in the Witcher-Verse, and the [Transhumanism] branch is already more than adequate compensation for the torture I have endured, but it's disappointing all the same.
Perhaps this is the nature of the human heart—constantly yearning for more, always pondering 'What if?' Or maybe it’s just me?
After the ritual was completed, I thought about asking Lorelei for access to the Tomb of Albion but ultimately decided against it.
Our relationship is built on mutual benefits, and it's essentially transactional.
She gets my DNA and possibly a good Heir to carry on the mantle of House Barthomeloi, while I gain access to perks typically denied to a First-Gen, along with the chance for an Heir with the coveted [Blue-Blood] and [Almighty]. While our destinies may be linked, to request access to the Tower's 'Nuke' is pushing it.
Although I am indeed shameless, this goes far, far beyond that.
Besides, not having the Mutagens of a True Dragon doesn't render [Transmutative Form] useless—especially when I have one of the few remaining pieces of the Nemean Lion in my possession.
I've never been particularly fond of Dragons anyway, and I'm definitely not just saying that to curb the lingering regret in my heart, I swear!
But there's a catch… There’s always a catch, isn't there?
So far, nothing I've encountered can damage even a single hair of the Nemean Grimoire—except for the Jade Heart Cauldron, and even then, it’d take two wholw months for the Baobei to break down a single strand of the Nemean Lion into extractable DNA.
Only then can I turn it into proper Mutagens using the Grasses.
Unlike in the Wild Hunt, where Geralt can pick and choose his Mutagens in seconds, the actual process is far more complex, involving a modified formula of the Grasses, allowing the extracted DNA to be submerged for nearly ‘half a moon,’ according to Triss’s insights.
Afterward, for the Mutagen to fully take effect, it requires yet another ten days during which the Witcher in question must continuously sip the modified Grasses.
This is why many Witchers spend weeks, sometimes months, planning their Mutagens to maximize their effects.
For me, though, it's a simple matter of ingesting or injecting the Mutagen and placing it in a Slot.
I have the advantage of time, but why not push said advantage further?
If every World I’m in runs at twice the rate compared to other Worlds, why not take the Mutagen elsewhere? By the time I return, the Expedition to the Amazon Rainforest should be in full swing, and I will have gotten accustomed to my new power—enough to use it effectively.
It’s a foolproof plan with no loopholes—unless I end up in DC, Marvel, or Warhammer.
Granted, the first two might actually be beneficial; at least there, the illusion of peace is still maintained by the Heroes, and I can roam free as long as I steer clear of ‘muddy waters.’
Oh well… There’s no point worrying needlessly. At the end of the day, the decision isn’t mine to make, but the Perk’s.
Lost in thought, I didn’t even notice when Stella—the Homunculus—descends the stairs, not until I hear the bodies she’s hauling collides with the steps repeatedly.
“More assassination attempts?”
“They were well-coordinated, Milord—better than the last group.”
“Have you interrogated them?”
“I have, but they were rather tight-lipped.”
“Throw them in with the rest, I’ll deal with them later.”
“We’re running out of Dimetirium chains, Milord.”
“Are we out?”
“We’re on our last dozen.”
“I’ll refill the stock later. By the way, tell Gil I’ll be on a trip.”
“When will you return, Milord?” The Homunculus looks worried, but thanks to her training in House Einzbern, wisely stays her tongue.
Jubstacheit the Golem wasn’t exactly the type to heed advice, especially from those he likely considered… Inferior Creations, and extremely poor imitations of the Northern Alchemist.
How brightly she shone then, with the Third True Magic, that tales of the Homunculus who accomplished a Miracle their masters could only dream of still circulate within the Clock Tower to this day.
If I were the Einzberns, I wouldn’t want to appear in public either.
Not only did they fail to reclaim Heaven’s Feel, they also have no idea how Justeaze managed to touch the Root.
She’s just one unremarkable Homunculus among hundreds they commanded at the time…
It must feel like a slap to the face every time someone brought it up to them.
“I’ll be gone for a month. Tell her if anyone calls, check the notebook in my office.” I’ve wrotten down the identities and nicknames for every one of my surbodinate inside, as for how to proceed, that’s up to Gil to decide. She was a Queen, and surely knows how handle ‘state affair’ better than Stella.
“I’ll remember to do so, shall I prepare your luggage?”
“No need.” I say with a wink, commanding the Baobei to fly toward me.
Inside, the Apostle has completely lost hope groans.
With the Constellation Pill condensed, I no longer have any use for him.
I could keep him alive to farm more Pills, but each Pill from the Cauldron is only effective the first time one takes it. I’m no exception, sadly… “[Pilferage].”
Retrieving the Pill, I steal away the Apostle’s [Undying] Trait, then increase the flame’s intensity until he's naught but a heap of black ash in the Cauldron. “Alas…”
A whisper escapes from the skull, which remains surprisingly untouched despite the heat.
Etched onto the forehead is the Orion Constellation, silently pulsing on the white bone, along with the symbol of the Eye of Horus. “So that’s what he used..."
It’s no wonder I didn’t recognize the Runes he used.
I know a fair bit about the subject thanks to Kiritsugu, who insisted I learn them in case I ever encounter a Bounded Field that integrates the System. Unfortunately, Egyptian Runes—the real ones taught by the Egyptian Gods and used by the Magi under their rule—have long been lost to history, much like the Runes Odin discovered through the sacrifice of his Eye.
In ancient Egypt, the Constellation of Orion was instead believed to represent Osiris, the God of the Afterlife and Rebirth, and belief… Faith, they’re one-Hell of a power.
My guess is their Ancestor wasn’t a Greek, but an Egyptian who sailed to the shores of Greece. The two lands are incredibly close, after all.
Retrieving the skull, I store it and summon the Baobei, which obediently jumps into the Storage Ring with but a mental command from me. “Milord…”
I turn to the Homunculus, almost lashing out, yet managing to pull back my punch as she plants a kiss on my cheek. “Please be safe; it’s a wild world out there.”
Grinning, I snort. “Who taught you to do that?”
Tilting her head in confusion, she whispers, “I saw it in movies… Did I make a mistake?”
“No. No, you didn’t. Look after each other while I’m gone, okay?”
“I will.”
She probably interpreted that as “Take care of Gil for me,” but I meant exactly what I said. Without the Homunculus, the house would feel too empty… Barren, even.
“See you soon.” With a wink, I open the [Tree] and tap on the next [Void Bridge], tapping my feet impatiently while the neural interface whirls to life. Watching as a whole host of Worlds—of Universes flash by one by one, I breath a sigh of relief when it lands on a world most gamers, especially the late 2000’s, early 2010’s gamers would recognize.
Nicknamed the ‘hardware fryer,’ the ‘PC destroyer,’ Crysis was the game that could have, should have, and, in many ways, did blow away all players. Developed by the then-new videogame company Crytek, few among the newer generations can fully grasp just how graphically stunning; conceptually amazing; yet hilariously demanding the title was at the time.
I myself only managed to play it for the first time in 2018, and even with my then medium-range computer, I dared not put the game to max settings…
Now I’d get to play it in real life—watch as the most iconic Nanosuit ever in live action.
“YES!!! CRYFIBRIL GOES BRRRRR—!”
“Milord?!”
Ignoring the Homunculus, I raise my arms and start a countdown with the [Tree], heart pounding away in my chest.
While the Nanosuit won’t provide immediate help, having access to such technology—and all the potential salvage from dead Cephs—can open up a world of possibilities for future development.
It’s not even that dangerous of a Universe either, but extremely rewarding. “NANOSUIT, I’M COMING!!!”
Reality tears open once more, pulling me in for another wild ride—or so I thought.
Instead, I find myself in an unfamiliar valley in Manhattan, a key setting for much of the trilogy.
It’s a sunny morning, and the heat scorches my skin.
Not exactly my kind of weather, but that’s not what my mind is on.
It’s the stream of people moving up and down the street like disorderly ants which captures my interest: “It hasn’t happened.”
The Ceph Invasion hasn’t occurred yet it seems.
My plan is to stay for a month, allow the Cauldron to wear away at the Nemean Lion’s hair, and download everything the Hargreaves Biomedical Research Center knows about the Nanosuit—Cryfibril in particular.
Files, pictures, tests… I want it all.
As for the Invasion itself, Nomad, Alcatraz, and Prophet have it handled in the games, I’m sure they’ll make do in real life as well.
Skipping down the street, I hum to myself. “Concrete jungle where dreams are made of~”
How true that is, I can’t say for certain since I’ve only been to New York for… What, two minutes? But in the brief time I’ve spent in the city, one thing I can confirm are the lingering scent of urine, the rats as big as Caragors that scurry around in broad daylight, and the crack-heads who seem strung out and clearly haven’t showered in days, if not weeks, judging by their body odor.
“Watch where you going, bitch!”
I blink at the man, puzzled. “I didn’t even bump into you.”
“What the hell did you just say to me?!”
“That’s enough! Break it up!”
Well, would you look at that—the police are actually here in a fictional setting!
“I didn’t do nothing, officer!”
“Yeah, right. Beat it, junkie.” After a short exchange, the officer nods at me and walks off.
“What a welcoming surprise.” I chuckle, heading straight to the nearest ATM, which I hack using a rather basic hacking module. Despite the series’ sci-fi setting, advanced technology isn’t widely accessible to the general public.
Ceph Tech in particular is restricted to military use and research purposes only. This discrepancy is why, on one hand, we have Nanosuits that can turn an ordinary person into a Yautja, while on the other, there’s an ATM machine whirring louder than the old Windows XP computer I used to have.
Taking the handful of cash the machine spat out, I enter a motel and pause as I overhear someone mentioning a new virus spreading throughout the city.
There are also reports of strange sightings—mosquitoes the size of rats.
Apparently, over a hundred people in Queen have fallen victim to a deadly condition resulting in their demise. Before their deaths, they were often seen coughing. Most were found dead in their beds at home after calling in sick to work, while a few passed away on the job. “Yikes… So it’s Alcatraz’s turn then.” As a fan of the franchise, I’ve read the wikis, the old comics—few as they are—and watched videos on the storyline thoroughly.
The virus currently ravaging most of Manhattan is a super AIDS the Ceph genetic-engineers to kill all humans.
Why would a spacefaring Alien species from another galaxy care for Earth?
Why’re they trying to kill off Humanity with a bio-weapon? Fuck if I know.
I doubt the writers had any idea either, but the gist is that, in a few weeks—maybe a month at best—this version of New York will be reduced to a pile of rubbles, and half its population will become walking biohazards.
“So it’s just another Thursday then.” I mutter jokingly, fixing my hair using the reflection in a car window as I wander through the city, taking in every little detail until boredom sets in and my feet find their way Hargeaves Biomedical Center.
The high-rise building’s coated in a layer of bulletproof glass, while inside the receptionists race around like headless chickens.
“[Notice-Me-Not].” I waltz through the door as if I own the place, pay the bills, and employ everyone here. After refreshing my memory with the public map, I head toward the elevator to hack into their system.
“Security breach detected! Security breach detected!”
“What?” I’m confident that not even an AI system can detect [Notice-Me-Not]; I’ve verified this in Cyberpunk.
It might pick up on anomalies, but it can’t ‘notice’ me—that’s the whole point of the Perk. Then, the device In my hands flashes bright red. Now I know what to thank for the trouble. Joke’s on me, though—I should have known Cyberpunk tech can’t hack a system built on alien technology. After waiting out the security, I follow one into the bathroom, where I ambush him in a stall—“Who–?!”
My right shoots to his mouth, while my left rests on his shoulder to stop the man from dropping his pants. “[Be quiet, you’re going to do everything I say, understood?]” I feel the Od drains from me at nearly fifty-times the usual cost for a simple [Hypnosis], frowning as the Spell takes effect.
I see… Without Gaia or an established Magic System set in place, it’s practically impossible to do any Magecraft.
I’m surprised the [Hypnosis] even takes, but if a basic, 0-Grade Mind Spell every Tom, Dick and Harry knows is this challenging to perform, then I fear this run may really be magic-free… A wrench has just been thrown in my plan, and I’m understandably not too happy about it.
I've stored several 'Stars' in the Baobei, and since Mystic Codes are made to outlast their makers, I believe it’ll function as intended.
I'm not entirely confident about its efficiency though. "Ah, whatever.” Worst-case scenario, I'll just have to extend my stay. No matter how inefficient the Baobei might be in this Universe, it can't possibly be that bad, right?
“I- Urgh... What did you just do to me?!”
Lips twitching, I double down on the [Hynosis], and while his resistance does get weaker every time, any more and the guard might really turn into a drooling mess. “Fuck. [Forget everything you saw and heard. You got dizzy in the stall, that’s it.]”
One more [Notice-Me-Not], and I’ll have to vacate the building or risk exposing myself to the world.
It won’t be an issue if the Ceph invasion is in full swing, but it will become a problem if I want to stay for an extended period.
Besides the Ceph, the U.S. military, the CIA, or whatever government agency handles paranormal activities, along with CELL—Hargreaves’ thugs—could become serious headaches if I were discovered. “Gotta be more careful...” I remind myself, then enter the fire exit.
Most of the doors are probably blocked, but I can easily twist them off their hinges if I want to.
The real question is which floor to enter.
Nothing a little eavesdropping can’t solve.
I'm sure if I hang around long enough, I'll eventually overhear their scientists talking about the Nanosuit.
If I'm lucky, I might even get my hands on a few pieces of authentic Ceph technology, which should be even more advanced than the new Nanosuit 2.0.
The thought jams in my brain as I notice something—someone—in my peripheral vision. Distorted light; quiet footsteps and a low, almost Vader-like breath that’s too quiet for the average person to pick up.
"A Nanosuit? That's..." Impossible.
The technology is already rare as is, and I'm certain Prophet isn't in town yet—otherwise, Hargreaves would have ramped up security, and the news would be reporting a series of 'inexplicable' shootings on top of the virus. Why is a Nanosuit here? How? Curious, I follow closely behind the ‘Bonded’, who stops and drops out of [Invisibility] after descending the third set of stairs.
"War Dog speaking, I do not spot anything out of the ordinary. Awaiting further instructions." War Dog? Who on earth is War Dog, and why does he have a Nanosuit? It looks slimmer than the 2.0 model, so it must be the older, pre-upgrade and presumably cheaper version.
Has Hargeaves suddenly gotten smarter and decided to level the playing-field by equipping his guards with these suits?
"Oh... Oh, fuck."
The crazy villain is actually being logical for once, and I don't like it.
Not one bit.
"This might be an issue."
Not an unsolvable issue, but one nonetheless.
Comments
Ano Nymous
The ep? I was a few hours late, but managed to deliever😅
Hoang Nguyen Bui
Woah I didn’t expect that
