[ THAT IS A COMMENDABLE OUTLOOK, TORIN—OR RATHER, TOBEY. ]
The screen pulsed with a soft, approving light.
[ SINCE YOU HAVE ACCEPTED YOUR ROLE AND YOUR VESSEL, IT IS TIME TO ADMINISTER THE BENEFITS OF THE COUNCIL. YOU CANNOT PROTECT THE EXISTENCE OF WOOLACE IF YOU STARVE TO DEATH ON A PORCH. ]
[ INITIALIZING SYSTEM INTERFACE... ]
[ REPAIRING BIOLOGICAL DEGRADATION... ]
Tobey felt a strange tingle at the base of his spine. It wasn't the violent, searing electricity from before; it was cool and soothing, like liquid mint flowing through his veins.
"What's happening?" he asked, breath catching as he watched the gray, papery skin on his hands begin to shift.
[ YOU ARE BEING RESTORED TO PEAK PHYSICAL POTENTIAL FOR THIS AGE. THE STARVATION, THE ATROPHY, AND THE ILLNESSES TIMOTHY ACCUMULATED ARE BEING ERASED. ]
[ AS 'THE EYE,' YOU ARE GRANTED THE VITALITY OF THE ANCIENTS: YOUR BODY WILL HEAL AT AN ACCELERATED RATE AND RESIST ALL COMMON MORTAL DISEASES. ]
Tobey watched in awe as his skeletal arms began to fill out. The blue, bulging veins receded under healthy, tanned skin. The jagged, knobby bone of his knees smoothed over with new, corded muscle. He felt his heart beating stronger, steadier, pumping life into a frame that had been hours away from death.
His thin, brittle blonde hair grew thick and lustrous, spilling over his shoulders, while his ragged beard filled out, reaching down toward his lap before finally stopping. Even his complexion changed, the sickly yellow pallor replaced by a clear, vibrant tone.
He stood up. This time, there was no wobbling. No weakness. He felt light.
Powerful.
"Peak physical potential..." Tobey whispered, flexing his fingers. He felt better than he ever had in his original life, even before the Syndicate had broken him.
[ DO NOT GET COCKY. YOU ARE STILL MORTAL. A BULLET TO THE BRAIN OR A BLADE TO THE HEART WILL STILL SEND YOU BACK TO THE VOID. THE COUNCIL DOES NOT GIVE SECOND CHANCES TWICE. ]
Tobey nodded. This time, he would live a low-profile life. He was done with gangs and bad influences. "I know. No chaos. Just living. But Etha... if I'm supposed to survive here, I need more than just a healthy body. I have no money, no ID, and no idea where the nearest city is."
[ TURN AROUND, TOBEY. LOOK INSIDE THE SHACK. ]
Tobey opened the door and walked back inside, holding his breath against the lingering scent of dust and stench.
[ UNDER THE BED, THERE IS A SMALL TRAVEL BAG. YOU WILL FIND ALL OF TIMOTHY'S IDENTIFICATION AND PERSONAL PAPERS THERE. ]
Tobey found a faded white bag shoved into the shadows under the bed frame. It was draped in thick cobwebs. As he dragged it out, a swarm of small insects bolted in different directions, scuttling into the floorboards. He quickly carried the bag outside to the porch, desperate for the fresh evening air.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the blue screen automatically began to emit a soft, white light, illuminating the clearing.
The zipper was partially seized with rust, but with his newfound strength, Tobey forced it open. Inside, he found clothes that were stained and faded. Tucked beneath the fabric was a separate black leather pouch. To his relief, the documents inside remained clean and dry—school records, government IDs, and birth certificates. Timothy Gray's life, summarized in paper.
"Umm... how about money?"
[ WE WILL GET TO THAT. FIRST, LET ME BESTOW THE PRIMARY BENEFITS GRANTED BY THE COUNCIL. ]
Tobey felt a surge of childish excitement. What if she gives me a fortune? he wondered. He could almost see it—living comfortably in a quiet house, sipping coffee on a porch while watching the sunrise. He'd get a dog, take long walks in the park, and hit the gym in the evening just to tire himself out for a peaceful sleep.
[ THE FIRST BENEFIT IS THE SUPERMARKET. ]
Tobey's jaw dropped. "What?" His bubble of excitement popped. "A grocery store?"
[ A LARGE, SELF-SERVICE RETAIL STORE OFFERING A VAST VARIETY OF GROCERIES, PRODUCE, MEAT, HOUSEHOLD GOODS, AND ESSENTIALS. BUT THIS SUPERMARKET IS UNIQUE. ]
The screen scrolled faster.
[ THE INTERIOR IS NOT AFFECTED BY THE FLOW OF TIME; FOOD WILL NEVER SPOIL. ALL ITEMS ARE ENDLESS. PRODUCTS ARE PRIMARILY BASED ON WOOLACE'S ECONOMY, BUT THERE IS A SPECIAL DEPARTMENT OFFERING POPULAR PRODUCTS FROM EARTH. ]
"Are you serious?" Tobey's eyes sparkled. If the food was endless, he'd never have to worry about the hunger that had defined Timothy's final days.
[ YES. IT IS YOURS TO USE FREELY. IT EXISTS IN A SUBSPACE WHERE ONLY YOU MAY ENTER. HOWEVER, IF YOU ACQUIRE A PHYSICAL BUILDING, YOU CAN 'CONNECT' THE SUPERMARKET TO IT, ALLOWING YOU TO RUN A BUSINESS. YOU CAN DISCONNECT IT AT WILL. ]
Tobey jumped, a grin splitting his face. A supermarket owner? It was the perfect low-key life. Honest, quiet, and stable. "Yeah! Thank you, Etha! Thank you to the Council!"
[ HOLD YOUR HORSES. THERE IS MORE. ]
Tobey nodded obediently, clapping his hands like a kid on Christmas.
[ TO ENTER THE SUPERMARKET, TOUCH THE TATTOO ON YOUR LEFT ARM. ]
Tobey looked down and noticed a small, intricate mark on his forearm. He rubbed it, and the world vanished.
In a heartbeat, he was standing in a brightly lit, cavernous space. Aisles stretched out into the distance, filled with everything from fresh bread to electronics. The air smelled of clean linoleum and citrus. Bulging eyes with happiness, he ran down the nearest aisle and grabbed a bag of junk food. He tore it open and shoved a handful into his mouth.
It was real. The salty, savory crunch was undeniable. He felt like he was in a beautiful dream he never wanted to wake up from.
[ RUB YOUR ARM AGAIN TO EXIT. WE ARE NOT FINISHED. ]
Tobey followed the instructions, still munching on the snacks as he reappeared on the shack's porch.
[ THE NEXT BENEFIT IS LINGUA FRANCA. IT IS A PASSIVE SKILL THAT ALLOWS YOU TO NATURALLY UNDERSTAND AND SPEAK ALL HUMAN LANGUAGES ON WOOLACE. YOUR BRAIN WILL AUTOMATICALLY SWITCH BASED ON YOUR LOCATION AND CONVERSATION PARTNER. ]
Tobey nodded. He wasn't a big talker, but he knew how valuable communication was. It would make hiding in plain sight much easier.
[ THE THIRD BENEFIT IS THE SOUL STORAGE. I KNOW IT SOUNDS CONFUSING, SO LET ME EXPLAIN IT TO YOU.]
"Hold on," Tobey interrupted, swallowing a mouthful of chips. "I'm not dumb. I know what storage is."
[ PERHAPS, BUT NEITHER YOU NOR TIMOTHY WERE BOOKWORMS OR FANS OF FANTASY MEDIA. YOU BOTH SPENT YOUR LIVES SURVIVING, NOT IMAGINING. ]
Tobey rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Go on."
[ LIKE THE SUPERMARKET, THIS STORAGE IS A PRIVATE SUBSPACE. IT HAS INFINITE ROOM BUT CAN ONLY STORE NON-LIVING OBJECTS. YOU CANNOT ENTER IT PERSONALLY. INSTEAD, YOU ACCESS IT VIA A VIRTUAL INTERFACE. ]
[ TO STORE AN ITEM, WAVE YOUR RIGHT HAND AND VISUALIZE PLACING IT INSIDE. TO RETRIEVE IT, SIMPLY VISUALIZE THE OBJECT RETURNING TO YOUR HAND. ]
Tobey bent down and snatched the bag from the porch floor. He waved his right hand, visualizing the action, and the bag vanished from his grip.
A transparent screen, distinct from Etha's interface, flickered into existence. It displayed a grid system, similar to a video game inventory. In the first slot, a small icon resembling the white travel bag sat quietly. Tobey focused his mind on retrieving it, and with a soft pop, the heavy bag reappeared in his hand.
He stored it again, watching it vanish into the void.
[ EACH GRID SLOT CAN HOLD A MAXIMUM OF 1,000 UNITS OF THE SAME ITEM. ]
Tobey grinned. This was incredibly convenient. No more luggage fees, no more heavy lifting. If he wanted to move houses, he could just shove his furniture into the void and walk away with his hands in his pockets.
But I have to be careful, he thought, his smile fading slightly. If anyone finds out I have a secret pocket dimension, I won't be seen as a hero. I'll be a lab rat. They'd dissect me to figure out how it works.
[ THE NEXT PRESENT IS YOUR DESIRED TALENT. NAME ONE TALENT YOU WISH TO POSSESS. ]
Tobey paused, rubbing his chin through his thick beard.
In his old life, back in the gang, he would have killed for this opportunity. He used to wish for mastery in martial arts or perfect aim with a firearm. He wanted to be feared. He wanted to impress the boss and survive the next turf war. His skills back then had been mediocre, sustained only by grit and experience.
But here? In this new vessel, with a second chance at life?
No. That wish was dead. He didn't want to hurt anyone anymore.
How about cooking? He considered it for a moment. He could cook decent meals, but he had no passion for it. He wasn't a picky eater; as long as it wasn't overly salty, unrecognizable, or exotic food, he would eat it. Wasting a divine wish on cooking seemed foolish.
Music? He shook his head. He wasn't sociable. The idea of singing or playing an instrument in front of a crowd made him cringe. He only hummed when he was alone, and he liked it that way.
Then, a memory surfaced. Not from the gang, but from before. A memory of her. His greatest love. The woman he had pushed away to protect her from his violent life. She used to sketch. She used to talk about the beauty of capturing a moment on paper. And deep in Timothy's memories, there was a faint echo of that same desire. Timothy used to sketch before he slept, a small escape from his miserable reality.
"Wait! I have an idea," Tobey said, his eyes lighting up. "I want to be an artist. A drawing artist."
He had zero talent for it—his stick figures looked like broken twigs—but he yearned for the peace that art brought. He wanted to feel the satisfaction of creating something beautiful out of nothing, rather than destroying things.
[ ARE YOU SURE? ONCE CHOSEN, YOU CANNOT CHANGE IT. ]
"Yes. I'm sure."
[ VERY WELL. ]
A warm, gentle breeze brushed against his face. Instinctively, Tobey closed his eyes.
At first, it was soothing. Then, a sudden numbness seized his skull. It wasn't pain, but a rush of density—like a library of books being downloaded directly into his neurons in a split second. Images of anatomy, perspective, shading, architecture, and color theory flashed behind his eyelids at light speed.
[ STAND STILL FOR A FEW MOMENTS. ]
Tobey swayed, his brain recalibrating to accommodate the massive influx of data.
[ WHAT I HAVE GRANTED YOU IS NOT A SIMPLE DRAWING SKILL. ]
[ SINCE YOU DID NOT SPECIFY A FOCUS, I HAVE GRANTED YOU MASTERY OVER ALL BRANCHES OF THE VISUAL ARTS. SKETCHING, PAINTING, TECHNICAL DRAFTING, ARCHITECTURE, AND ILLUSTRATION. ]
The screen pulsed with a divine golden hue.
[ AS PER THE COUNCIL'S COMMAND TO EMPOWER THE EYE, I HAVE ELEVATED THIS TALENT TO THE PINNACLE OF WHAT A MORTAL CAN ACHIEVE. ]
Suddenly, the way Tobey viewed his surroundings shifted.
It wasn't a hallucination; it was a filter of understanding. He looked at a jagged rock near his foot. Before, it was just a dirty stone. Now, he saw the texture, the interplay of light and shadow, the geometric angles needed to capture its weight on paper.
He looked at the trees. He didn't just see wood and leaves; he saw composition, negative space, and color palettes. His mind instantly calculated the exact brushstrokes needed to replicate the rustling of the wind. He felt the overwhelming confidence of a master.
An idea bloomed in his mind, wild and ambitious. What if I create art that marks history? He imagined creating pieces that would be studied for centuries, passed down from generation to generation. Like the Mona Lisa, The Starry Night, or The Kiss. Just imagining leaving a legacy like that—something beautiful instead of a trail of blood—made his heart race.
[ AND NOW, FOR THE FINAL GIFT. ]
Etha's voice cut through his daydream, snapping him back to reality.
Tobey's smile faded. He frowned, a cold knot forming in his stomach.
"Too much, Etha," Tobey muttered, taking a step back. "This is too much. It's to the point where I'm starting to doubt you."
His excitement evaporated, replaced by the sharp, paranoid instincts of a man who had survived the underworld.
"What's the catch?" he asked, his voice low. "In my old life, when the Boss gave you this much... it meant you were walking into a trap. Or a suicide mission."
He looked at the floating screen with suspicion. "What if the mission isn't 'easy' like you said? Do I have a hidden task? A secret test? Am I supposed to kill a god or something?"
Surrounded by these god-tier abilities, he felt no greed—only wariness. Truthfully, a single one would have been enough. The Supermarket alone could support a comfortable life without any effort. Add in the Vitality of the Ancients, and he was already living better than 99% of the population.
But infinite food? Perfect health? A pocket dimension? And now the pinnacle of artistic talent?
"This feels like a bribe," Tobey whispered, his muscles tensing. "And I need to know the price before I accept anything else."