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A Mage's Guide to the Multiverse (Celestial Grimoire SI, Worm Start) by Throwaway1971

Books » Private Rated: M, English, Romance, Words: 202k+, Favs: 160, Follows: 196, Published: Jan 17, 2024 Updated: Mar 20, 2024

24Chapter 01 - A Fledgling Mage

I had to admit; waking up at the ass crack of dawn in a dark, moderately cold park in nothing but baggy sweats and mismatched crocs wasn't the finest start to my day. I was immediately chilled to the bone, breath coming out in short misty bursts as I wrapped my lean arms around my shirtless torso and looked around wildly. The motion caused the ratty newspaper that had been draped over my body to flutter harmlessly to the ground. I ignored it in favor of more confusion.

"What the fuck?! Where the fuck am I?"

My voice, normally deep and quite monotonous, came out an octave or two higher as I half-stumbled off of the dew covered park bench I'd been passed out on.

"Josh? Bro, I swear to God if this is another fuckin' prank…" I glared into the pale dimness of the park's street lights, the coolness of fear warring with the heat of anger roiling in my gut.

Now, I wasn't usually one for panic and indecision. For all the shittiness it brought into my life, depression included, the military did manage to ruthlessly yank out the majority of indecision and awkwardness that had plagued me for years in highschool. I did my four and a half years in the Army, got out after a suspicious shrink pegged me with both high-functioning autism and antisocial personality disorder, and proceeded to spend the rest of my twenty-something year old life being a proper hermit that occasionally got a check from Youtube for making shitty video-game review videos.

What a shitty way to prepare for being dropped in some random ass place at 6 AM. This was definitely not my two-bedroom apartment in East Harlem, and while it was cold - like, morning time during Winter cold - it wasn't New York biting the nails brick'd. Either my roommate, Josh, decided to play a decidedly lame prank and dumped me in some random ass city with no warm clothes, or I was magically spirited away during the night like some half-assed isekai protagonist in a shitty webtoon.

I bit my lip, clenching my fists tightly to push down the rising panic. "Josh!"

No reply, other than a vaguely distant scream and a trio of gunshots. In spite of myself, I couldn't stop a half-hysterical chuckle from escaping my lips. 'Maybe this is Harlem after all'.

But of course it wasn't. Now that my eyes were starting to adjust more to the darkness - and even then, the sun was slowly beginning to dip up in the distance - I could see that my surroundings were completely and utterly unfamiliar. I wasn't someone who ventured out a lot in the slightest, being a self-proclaimed hermit and all, but even I had a grasp of modern-day New York architecture. The park I was in seemed…not exactly dead, but definitely not very well-kept. The hedges were growing prickly with dead twigs and sticks, the paved pathways were pretty battered and cracked, and the grass seemed like it needed a nice shave.

'Fuck it,' I grumbled internally, turning away from the rundown park and fishing through my sweatpants' pockets. There was an empty pack of Spearmint gum - weird, because I didn't even chew gum, a Zippo lighter, a battered pack of cigs that I carelessly tossed into the nearest trashcan, and a dirty wallet. It wasn't the expensive Slytherin-embroidered leather wallet my ex had gotten me for Christmas, but it was something. I sat back on the bench, the cold temporarily forgotten in light of my most recent find, and I searched through the wallet. It reeked like months of ass sweat, I noticed immediately, and disgustingly enough…so did I for some reason.

"I can get a nice hot shower after I Uber back home," I snorted, shaking the scent away and pulling out my rightful findings. A crumpled twenty dollar bill was in the main compartment, which I quickly pocketed, what looked like a State ID was hidden in one of the smaller flaps, and a purple sticky note that immediately stood out to me…mainly because it had my name at the top in very fancy letters. A sense of foreboding drying my mouth, I read on.

To one Jason Black,

You have been chosen.

I cannot offer you much, information or material-wise, but just know that I am looking forward to seeing what you can do. Many beings are watching in interest, so please do not disappoint.

The Celestial Grimoire is within you, always.

Rise to new heights, journey to places no one from your world has ever thought to go, and become something greater than yourself! One day, if you survive, we will meet face to face. I will answer any questions then.

Take care.

PS: I would be remiss to not tell you this: You are in Worm. Practice caution.

Silence, interrupted by the occasional jarring ambient noise of a city on perpetual fire, pervaded the area. The coolness of the wintry morning air was no longer numbing my skin. No, the absolute dread that poured liquid lead through all corners of my body and soul did that all on its own. It felt as if the rug, the floorboards, and the whole fucking house was swept from beneath my feet, leaving me drifting in a cold, lonely void of fear and indecision. I wish I could say that I was one of those crazy motherfuckers who actively wished to become the main character of some crazy manga or anime, venturing into dungeons or fighting supervillains or whatever the fuck, but…

The truth of the matter was that I enjoyed my sleepy, boring little life. I preferred my video games on my 4k monitor, not staring me in the fucking face. Not to mention the fucker decided to place me in Worm of all places. Ignoring the fact that it was just a fucked world in general, I barely even knew the plot! Something, something, world ends?!

Then again, maybe it was stupid to take this at face value. My roommate knew how much of a nerd I was, and he also knew a bit about the type of shit I read. Coming up with some bullshit mystic celestial mumbo-jumbo wouldn't be too out of character for the friendly jackass.

A trickle of warmth livened my senses. "Yeah, this is probably still some dumb joke. Josh, you weirdo, stop hiding and bring me a fucking shirt man!" I looked around again. Nothing but darkness and unfamiliarity. Maybe he was-

A little 'ping' pierced through both the wintery silence and my own inner ramblings, and something in my gut pulled. Hard. Like a desperate yank of a fishing pole.

Mystic Eyes of Death Perception (Tsukihime - 800 CP)

Mystic Eyes of Death Perception - All things die eventually. No matter how clever you are or what paradox you invoke to escape it, all that which is born 'alive into this world will eventually leave it. And now, having seen such a thing up close at some point in your life, your body has internalized it in those beautiful eyes of yours. You are able to perceive 'death' itself on living beings and physical objects, appearing as thin red lines. When You touch or cut along these lines, the object or being in question is immediately cut deeply regardless of their durability, and attempts at healing or regeneration are greatly stunted -perhaps even made impossible for some beings, though the lines are thinner and more difficult to target the tougher a target is. At first, these lines are all you can perceive and influence, but after some time passes they will become clearer to your eyes and you will eventually see circular 'points' on their body that the lines all trace back to. Cutting or stabbing this point of death directly will immediately kill the target in question - no form of reincarnation, resurrection, or regeneration will save them from the bitter taste of death. This is what it means to kill something. With time and continued use, you may eventually be able to understand and perceive the concept of death in less tangible things, such as the spells of Magecraft or the empty space between you and an object, though the same general rules apply- and some things can only be 'cut', not 'killed', for they have no point of death.

However, perceiving how fragile the world and existence as a whole really is...that's something no human mind can truly bear witnessing. When your eyes are active, the perception of death trains the mind and can eventually cause a human brain to suffer a fatal aneurysm from continued use, and can also damage one's sanity as they are constantly made to understand the concept of death all around them. Even to an inhuman mind that can sustain the physical damage and the sanity-straining view of entropy, they are tiring to use in the long-term without preparation or precautions. Secondly, the 'points' of death may never appear for certain beings- beings that were never 'born' or are free of the concept of death entirely, such as a True Ancestor at the peak of their power during the night of a full moon - you would have to remove the source of their immortality or introduce them to the possibility of mortality in a different way, which is beyond the scope of using these alone. The strain also increases the longer you perceive the death of things beyond living beings or physical objects, which can do great damage to your mind if you're unprepared for it.

The metaphorical fishing line snapped like a taut tendon, releasing the broken ability back into the sea.

I couldn't even mourn its loss, however. Those feelings, that soul-deep cognizance of the Celestial Grimoire and its offered ability, was irrefutable proof of my circumstances. I was in Brockton fuckin' Bay.

My lips, chapped from the briskness of the air, began to twitch. A crooked grin, looking decidedly out of place on my otherwise ashen and horrified face, forced the dryness of my lips to crack from the sudden movement. I barely tasted the small amount of coppery blood, too busy staring out into nothingness.

A hollow chuckle erupted from my throat. "Hah!"

"Hehehe…what the fuck…"

"HAHAHAHA!"

A scant few minutes later, when a homeless old man wandered into the rundown part of the park where the choked cackling originated from, he would see a shirtless black teenager in dirty pants collapsed backwards on a moldy wooden bench, holding his stomach and giggling, even as tears ran in rivulets down his face.

Disturbed and cautious, the old man would slowly and stealthily leave.

I was, admittedly, embarrassed by my sudden breakdown once the panic and crying ceased.

I'd never been the type to fold or crack under pressure - rather, I tended to snark and snipe back until whatever pressed me was either sufficiently cowed or twisted to my benefit. I guess being kidnapped by some godlike being and placed in a death world - or what would eventually become one - was enough to crack even my emotionally-dulled brain. Now, though, with my tears successfully dried and my heart no longer hammering against my sternum, I was calm enough to approach things logically.

Or, as logically as I could with a significant lack of information and resources.

First thing to think about was my new identity here on Earth Bet. I'd thrown the stinky wallet away already, keeping the loot, and I stared down hard at the State ID. The name checked out, and so did the height and weight; Jason Black, 5'11", weighing a whopping 160lbs. My face, however, younger than the 25 years I remember being, stared impassively back at me from the upper left corner. I looked about the same as I did back when I was 17 - warm brown skin, high cheekbones, a brooding glare, stoic features…handsome if you found 'resting bitch face syndrome' attractive, I guess. I'd gotten better at smiling in my later years, but back then with my undiagnosed neurodivergency, it had honestly felt like the world and my own mind was against me - hence the lack of care in appearing normal and happy.

Medium length black dreadlocks were messily pulled out of light brown eyes, and I spotted the same silver stud piercings in my younger self's ears that I had as an adult. A quick glance downwards showed that my tattoos had transitioned over as well.

I let out a huff. "Making me seventeen again like my name's Zac Efron won't make up for the rest of this shit," I said dryly, glancing up at the peeking sunrise. If I had to guess, I would say that morning rush was just starting - so probably around 7 AM, give or take a few minutes. All I had on me was a lighter, a twenty dollar bill, my ID card, and a dirty pair of crocs. If the note was to be believed, and I sure as Hell believed it now, then I also had a potentially multiversal-level power compendium just chilling in my soul, but I wasn't sure if that was a bag I wanted to open up and delve into in the middle of a park with no shirt on.

For better or for worse, this was my life right now, and whining about the shitty end of the stick had never been my type of rodeo. Ignoring the anxiety that urged me to sit back down and curl back up beneath the fallen newspaper, I stood to my feet and briskly made my way towards the stretch of buildings I could see in the direction of the park's exit.

'First thing's first,' I narrowed my eyes, wincing inwardly as the cold made itself known again, 'Find a fuckin' hoodie. Does Earth Bet have Goodwill?'

Twenty minutes later found me scrounging around the dumpsters of some random mom and pop shop that looked like it had those creepy ass mannequins on the inside.

I couldn't really see through the barred windows, and seeing as the sign said they were closed until 9 AM, I figured they probably had something warm out back. The sun was pretty clear in the sky at this point, spilling light haphazardly across the dusky alleyway I was occupying, and my hackles were fucking raised. It wasn't like I'd forgotten that I was in Brockton Bay, and though my knowledge of the plot was faulty at best, I, at the very least, knew quite a bit about the setting itself. It was basically a shitty Gotham, with a shit-ton of superpowered and crime-committing assholes living in it, and if I didn't get a jacket and find a place to hole myself up in order to gain my bearings...well, I was probably screwed.

I could handle myself in a fist-fight, sure; against someone unarmed and around my size or smaller. Superpowers or switchblades kinda tipped the balance way out of my favor.

My hand slid across something warm, dry, and distinctively cotton-like, and I grinned triumphantly as I pulled a navy blue hoodie out of a dingy cardboard box. It seemed relatively new, there was no real scent to it outside of the slight mildew tinge, and most important of all...it was fucking warm. I immediately pulled it over my head without any further hesitation, tossing the hood up and cinching the drawstrings.

I sighed quietly, stuffing my hands in the pockets of the large hoodie and casually making my way out of the alleyway. A well-dressed elderly couple was making their way down the sidewalk when I emerged from the darkness of the alley, and I studiously ignored the way the woman jumped and the man wrapped his arm tighter around her waist. To be fair, I was pretty stinky and ragged. And homeless. Fuck.

"Yo, hold on," I called out to the two once it was clear that they were going to speed walk the rest of the way to their destination. At the dry gruffness of my voice, I swallowed harshly and took a step forward. I just needed information, honestly. Anything that could help me adjust. "Just real quick, I promise. I just wanna-"

"Ask for money?" They'd stopped, at least, but the man looked at me with very thinly veiled disgust. "You sure you wanna be doing that here of all places?" He looked me up and down, a sneer curling at his lip, and his wife pulled lightly on his arm with a quiet murmur of 'leave it be'.

"I don't need your money," I started again, my voice going cold and monotonous with the sudden burst of heated anger in my chest. It was pretty clear where the man's disrespect was stemming from. "Just some directions."

Before the man could open his mouth, his wife patted his hand and took a step forward. Not any closer to me, but just enough to not be hiding in the bigger man's bulk. Her voice was carefully polite when she spoke to me. "That's fine," she said slowly, condescendingly. "Where do you need directions to?" My frown deepened.

What did I want to know? My current situation was horrible, sure, but not straight up dire. I had no intentions or desire to go wailing to the PRT about what the icky sicky God did to me, mainly because I had no fucking clue what they would do to me. As far as I was aware, I had no Corona Pollentia. The Celestial Grimoire was something embedded much deeper than my brain, and who knew what the government of this world would do if they knew about the multiversal magics just chilling in my soul?

No, until I could learn more about this world and make decisions independent of fear and confusion, I was staying the Hell away from the PRT...or any other capes in general, to be honest. There was no conflict driving me - no innate need to fight or prove my dominance. That was good, because right now, I just needed...-

A sudden lurch in my gut interrupted my thoughts, hooking around an ability significantly smaller than the previous one, but no less useful.

Sorcery - Force of Spirit (World of Darkness: Sorcerer - 100 CP)

Some people possess a raw, unbridled charisma that seems almost supernatural. With this ability, there is no "almost." An expenditure of magical energy can briefly improve your social skills, at least for a single task.

As it wrapped around the ability, I felt this inner urging, asking me whether or not I wanted to accept it. Excitement temporarily warred with caution at the thought of suddenly obtaining magic, even one as benign as a charisma boosting spell. Questions sprouted in my head immediately - where would this magical energy come from? Would I get other more basic sorceries from the World of Darkness with this purchase, or just the one ability? Which, from what I could vaguely remember from my previous Vampire: The Masquerade sessions, was pretty fucking useful once you got knuckle-deep in it.

I couldn't think for too long, however, seeing as the woman was still looking up at me expectantly, waiting for a response.

Without another thought, I accepted the power and immediately felt it settle within my body, alongside a small pool of...something in the back of my head. Mana, perhaps? Regardless, drawing upon the ability felt intrinsic and instinctive. I flexed the mana that felt like a shallow, yet crystal clear pool, and called upon my first ever ability.

It felt like an egg yolk broke over my brow, and liquid gold coalesced around my tongue. I found myself smiling a bit more genuinely, in a way that brought attention to the youthful boyishness of my face. It felt unnatural to do so, and it was only the knowledge that it was the sorcery doing it that stopped my wariness in its tracks.

"Shelter, ma'am," I said quietly, just as the man was about to butt in aggressively at my silent staring. I tilted my head slightly to the right, scratching at my cheek and giving her a sheepish grin. Fortunately, my teeth were still white and straight, and they almost seemed to gleam as I lightly scuffed the tip of my croc against the sidewalk. "Just a place to breath and rest, and maybe eat a lil' bit too. It's been a really shitty week, after my pops kicked me out and everything. Something 'bout lay-offs and me being old enough to survive. He was drunk so I wasn't able to catch too much."

Half of that bullshit story was me just being a naturally good liar, truth be told, but the other half was definitely little nudges from my power, hinting at ways to mess around with the old woman's heartstrings and come off as more affable and honest. Supernatural charisma was apparently no fucking joke. I wasn't getting much from the man, though, so I figured he was a bit of a lost cause.

The old lady stepped fully out of her husband's shadow, concern now lining her fair face as she seemed to look me over a second time. Light brightened her previously cool eyes, and she easily ignored the dirt and grime of my appearance as she grabbed both of my hands in her own. "Oh, you poor boy! You've been out on your own for a week now? And you're so thin...Harold, he-"

"Yeah, yeah, I heard the boy." The older man gave me a disgruntled glare, and my cheek twitched in anger. Boy sounded awfully less nice coming out of his mouth. "What, so you wanna know where the soup kitchen is, kid?" He snorted, crossing his arms over his barrel-like chest.

"Good luck. Those lines are always long and crazy. Winter's not a good time to be out on the streets."

I shrugged my shoulders, glancing down at the mousy woman still gripping my hands. She didn't seem very intent on letting them go, still giving her husband the puppy dog eyes.

"I can handle a bit of crazy. If you could point me in the right direction, though, that would be nice." Her gaze returned to mine, and I had a feeling that I could probably push a little bit more. My sheepish grin returned. "I don't got much, but I could pay you for the address-"

"No." The woman immediately shushed me, letting go of my hands and reaching into her purse. Her face was stormy and defiant as she glared back at 'Harold' and stopped him from speaking with one steely look. She quickly extracted five crisp ten dollar bills and placed them firmly in my hand, alongside a used receipt that she messily scribbled something on the back of. "The soup kitchens are packed, but you might have better luck at the shelter. It's quite a walk from here, but I have Bible study with one of the owners, Maxine - I'll give her a call and let her know to be expecting you."

I blinked, a warm feeling pooling in my chest at the sudden kindness. I knew that it was purely due to the sudden arrival of my sorcery, improving my persuasiveness and charisma, but it still felt nice to be fussed over by a nice older lady. The appreciative smile that lit up my face was much more genuine than the last. "Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this helps," I said 'breathlessly', pocketing both the money and the receipt.

"Don't thank me, sweetie; you seem like a good kid. Just try to get off the streets and live a decent life," she responded kindly, patting me on the chest. Before I could go to respond, her husband finally seemed to have had enough and reached forward to firmly wrap his arm around her shoulders.

"That's enough, Clara! We've got reservations and we're already running late." He groused, physically guiding the much smaller lady away. I spied a cheeky smile on her lips before her back was to me, though.

Before she could be pulled out of immediate earshot, I quickly called out, "It was nice meeting you, Ms. Clara. I'll pay you back!"

She didn't respond, but it's not like I'd expected her to. I simply watched them walk away down the sidewalk, heading deeper into the hustle and bustle of morning-time Brockton Bay. Force of Spirit was still active, though I felt like turning it off was as simple as turning it on - simply willing it to happen. I had no idea how long it stayed active for, but that was resolved by just counting down the seconds on my way to...

I fished the receipt out of my pocket.

"Walk By Faith...? Sounds kinda kooky," I sighed, reading back over the address. Religiousness aside, I didn't recognize the street name or the zip code, but I did note the 'Downtown' portion written at the top - and, considering the fancy buildings and storefronts around me, I was pretty sure I was already Downtown. Simply walking the streets and checking the street-signs would hopefully be enough to find my way to my destination.

And, once I was finally there? Well...I would get to that when I got to it. I'd always been more of a 'figure it out on my feet' kind of guy. For now, just having a relatively safe place to sit, go over things, and stay relatively warm and clean was enough for me. I'd never had to deal with homelessness before, and that unfortunately meant that I was ill-equipped to handle it gracefully.

I also felt like I was forgetting some very important things about Brockton Bay - and Downtown in particular. It was disconcerting. Maybe a few hours of soul searching would help jog my - admittedly - shit memories of Worm.

Still, fifty dollars richer and with an actual goal in mind, I was feeling somewhat confident and tentatively eager to see what abilities the Celestial Grimoire had in store for me next.

Pocketing the receipt once again, I squared my shoulders and headed the opposite direction that the old couple went.

Sorcery - Force of Spirit (World of Darkness: Sorcerer - 100 CP) - Some people possess a raw, unbridled charisma that seems almost supernatural. With this ability, there is no "almost." An expenditure of magical energy can briefly improve your social skills, at least for a single task.

Yooo, what's up! Not much to say here; I wanted to try a Celestial Grimoire story, so here it is. I've been pretty busy with life recently, but I hope to write for my other stories once I get the time and motivation.

I'm doing 100 CP per 1k words, and I'll do a roll every 2000 words. The formula's a bit fucked in the first chapter because I wanted to do a roll pretty early for dramatic effect, so it'll be on course next chapter.

Let me know what you wanna see our boy get up to in Brockton Bay.

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A Mage's Guide to the Multiverse (Celestial Grimoire SI, Worm Start) by Throwaway1971

Books » Private Rated: M, English, Romance, Words: 202k+, Favs: 160, Follows: 196, Published: Jan 17, 2024 Updated: Mar 20, 2024

24Chapter 02 - Trouble in 'Paradise

Turns out that Ms. Clara wasn't kidding when she said that the shelter was 'quite a walk'.

No street signs I looked over referenced 'Monroe Ave.', so I had to just keep walking in hopes that I'd find that one fateful sign. I wasn't the best when it came to geography, especially the geography of fictional cities I vaguely remembered reading fanfiction about, so it was very relieving when I stumbled across a bus stop fifteen minutes after I began my aimless trek. The little sitting area was pretty dirty and had dried puke on the plastic, but beggars couldn't be choosers and I was, unfortunately, quite the fucking beggar.

I had to share the bus stop with another streetrat - some quiet Asian chick in a baggy, electric blue letterman jacket and cargo pants - but she had earbuds in and didn't seem like she wanted to converse, so I left her be. I had other shit to deal with, anyway; like the myriad of thoughts roiling through my brain and threatening to send me straight into a migraine. Stress tended to do that to me.

'Alright,' I sighed mentally, leaning back on the bench and closing my eyes. The girl beside me was focused entirely on the cracked screen of her phone, so I felt pretty safe in letting my attention wane for a bit. 'We're doing this. All bullshit aside, this is not some shitty prank or dream. I'm in Brockton Bay, USA, and I'm about to hit up a homeless shelter.' Unbidden, a snort bubbled out of my chest. The hysterics were over, though, replaced by stoic - if frustrated - acceptance.

Eyes still closed, I began tapping my index finger lightly on the cool metal at the back of the bench. 'I haven't had to deal with shit like this before, but I can adapt. What do I know about the Celestial Grimoire…?' Unfortunately, not a lot. The writing prompt had popped up a few times over my years of reading self-indulgent fanfiction online, but I'd never gotten hooked in by the premise. It was a slow ramp-up, if I remembered correctly - over time, you began to amass points, or 'charges', that would attempt to claim a magic-based power from the Celestial Grimoire.

How often that happened was anyone's guess, though. It seemed completely random. The first time was when I was panicking and in denial about being sent to Worm, and the second was when I was attempting to-

"Do you mind?" A voice, low and feminine and decidedly smoky, pulled me out of my thoughts. Frayed nerves had me jerking upwards almost immediately, my eyes opening to meet the incredulous dark stare of my benchmate.

"What?"

"The tapping," she deadpanned, a bemused edge coloring her stoic voice as she peered at me through strands of greasy black hair. "You got ADHD or something?"

As soon as she mentioned it, my finger ceased its quiet, rhythmic tapping. Gone were the days where I was ashamed or embarrassed about my little quirks, but I still had the grace to offer a slight smile that didn't reach my eyes. Niceties and politeness, right? "Something like that. Sorry if it," I glanced down at her phone, and the fake smile twisted into a wry smirk, "Interrupted your Subway Surfing."

The colorful little app wasn't the same one I remembered, but it was close enough - a platforming timewaster that didn't require much mental power.

The girl absorbed my easygoing sarcasm with startling casualness. "I was getting close to a high score when you started drumming, so I paused it. Didn't wanna fuck up my run." Her voice was definitely not what you'd expect from a five foot nothing Asian teenager, almost seductive in its low timbre, but audiophilia wasn't one of my kinks so it didn't get more than an eyebrow raise from me.

The banter felt like familiar grounds, though. I could feel my hackles lowering. "Wouldn't want to ruin your chances at professional mobile gaming." I chuckled, my head tilting slightly to the right as I studied the girl. She was probably a little bit older than my current age - 18, maybe - with a cute face that was only held back by clear signs of malnutrition and sleep deprivation. If I had to guess, I'd say that she'd been living on the streets for a few months, but it wasn't like I was the premier consultant for homeless teens.

Her face scrunched up cutely during my analysis, and she wiggled away ever so slightly. "You got a staring problem too? Jeez…"

I blinked, shaking my head. "Nah, I kinda just zoned out." This was the first conversation I've had in Brockton Bay with someone relatively cool and close to my age, and I had no intentions of fucking it up. Funnily enough, that meant squashing my almost instinctive urge to slide in a flirtatious one-liner at the end of my last sentence. I doubt that's what a paranoid and lonely girl on a street corner wanted to hear from a stranger. "Sorry, shit's just been…crazy lately. Really crazy. My name's Jason."

I briefly entertained the thought of casting Force of Spirit, just for the added insurance, but I almost immediately threw the thought away. There was no way I was relying on that shit to talk to a normal teenage girl. Talk about pitiful.

Fortunately, the girl saw something honest in my expression - or lack thereof - because she slowly nodded her head in understanding. "I figured it was something like that. The name's Cassie," she inched closer again, her brows furrowing as she peered closer up at me. "I'm guessing you're not used to being…"

The girl gestured outwards with pale hands.

I arched an eyebrow. "Alive?"

"No, smartass, homeless. You look like a noob - who the Hell wears pink and blue crocs during Winter, anyway?" She knife-hand pointed at my dirty crocs, which I'd put in sports mode prior to my finding the bus stop.

I felt myself grow defensive even before my mouth opened. "Yo, relax on the crocs! It's what-" I was wearing before God decided to fuck me in the ass. "I was wearing before my dad kicked me outta the house. Haven't found much better over the past week…" Might as well stick to the story and follow it through 'till the end. It was better than saying I was dimensionally displaced by some random asshole in the multiverse.

"Right," Cassie muttered with a distasteful glare towards my shoes. "Well that sucks, but take it from me - you can't let sentimentality stop you from being practical. Being out on the streets in Brockton Bay isn't…fun. Not that I'm saying you're treating it lightly, but still."

I knew what she was saying, even if she was finding it difficult to put into polite words. "I get it, don't worry," I sighed, giving the girl a crooked smile. "I'll try to keep that in mind next time I see an old, defenseless hobo with size 12's."

That one actually got an unlady-like snort of laughter out of the severe-looking girl. When her giggles abated, she fixed me with a faux serious glare. The slight warbling on the corner of her lips betrayed her lingering amusement. "Not funny. Homeless abuse is actually a big fucking problem here." As she spoke, the amusement almost immediately bled away into a somber seriousness that was tinged with anger.

Her phone was left forgotten on her lap, the pause screen blinking away into darkness as sleep mode activated.

It was obvious where she wanted to take the conversation, and I had to know what I was getting myself into, so I took the very obvious hook and tugged on it. "Let me guess - the gangs aren't the biggest fans of the homeless population?" It made sense with the vision I had of the criminals. With fuckers like Lung trafficking humans and actual fucking Nazis on the loose, what was a bit of hobophobia?

Cassie shook her head, however, her eyes wide and serious as she gestured with her hands. "You'd think so, right? Yeah, some gangster assholes beat up on the homeless to feel better about themselves, but a lot of the time it's worse. Like, kidnapping, inducting, testing experimental shit - if it's something fucked up and easily accomplished on the hungry and downtrodden, they probably do it." Her face, already pale from both the cold and hunger, seemed to grow even paler at her own words.

I let out a breath. "Not saying you're lying," I began cautiously, my finger drumming a quiet beat on the bench once again, "But how do you even know this?" I had a sinking feeling, but a voice in my head whispered that the odds were way too low. For one, Cassie seemed relatively put together for all intents and purposes. Secondly, I'd already guessed that she had only been on the streets for a few months.

That sinking feeling, however, sunk deeper when the Asian girl simply smiled emptily. I wasn't a mind-reader, but the answer was pretty fucking cut and dry purely by that blank stretch of emptiness that took over her expression for the swiftest of moments. I got chills, and it wasn't from the brisk January morning.

"Just trust me on it." Her voice held an edge of warning, but I didn't know what for.

So I just let it be.

"'Ight."

Cassie and I quickly brushed over that tense subject and returned to mostly inane conversation. I, feigning ignorance and home-bodiness, quizzed her about the different gangs and groups around the Bay, and she turned out to be a veritable treasure trove of information. Whether or not that information was accurate and unbiased remained to be seen, but what I did learn helped settle some of the deja-vu and lingering anxieties that had been plaguing me since I woke up here.

Brockton Bay had nazis. This, I already knew, but where the nazis roosted was a fact that I didn't know. According to Cassie, the Empire 88 skinheads claimed Downtown as their main territory, and the PRT was no closer to kicking them out on their ass now than they were when the assholes first solidly established themselves. I basically spawned in the middle of anti-black territory, and I hadn't even realized it. That had me inwardly freaking the fuck out and jumping at shadows, but I couldn't exactly bring myself to panic with a baddie sitting beside me so I stifled the majority of the freak out.

It wasn't like the other parts of the Bay were much better. You had the ABB in the Docks, the Asian gang spearheaded by a shadow clone spawning ninja and roided up American Dragon Jake Long, and a group of heroin-addicted plague bearers who flitted between the different territories like rats. The less said about Coil and his army of private mercenaries, the better. I didn't have even the faintest clue on how to deal with his particular brand of bullshit.

Sure, I already knew about the major gangs from my own readings, but it was…different, hearing an actual Brockton Bay civilian's opinion and description of what used to just be scary names on a screen to me.

Our conversation was momentarily put on pause when the bus actually came nearly thirty minutes later, and it resumed - centered around less dangerous topics - shortly thereafter, in quiet voices, at the back of the bus.

"I'm telling you, those homeless shelters aren't worth it Jason," Cassie hissed quietly at me, the spunky girl gripping tightly onto the sleeve of my navy hoodie. I'd noticed a while back that she was quick to grab and jostle onto me, but common sense tempered my now teenage brain's hormonal response and introduced the fact that she was probably just touch-starved, being homeless and everything. Most people probably avoided her, and she probably avoided most people.

I didn't let that influence my decision, though.

"This old lady said she'd put in a nice word, get me a bed and some amenities." I responded, equally as quiet. We'd been on the topic for a couple minutes, and it didn't seem like her stance was going to change. "I trust her word." Mainly because I'd used sorcery bullshit to persuade the location out of her gnarly old hands, but still.

"Last 'religious shelter' I stopped by had us burning bible pages in barrel fires, Jason. It's never as easy as 'get me a bed and some amenities'." Her voice, already low and appealing, deepened into a husky purr as she narrowed her eyes and imitated my accent.

It was amusing, but I was trying to stay serious and persuade her to come with me, so I-

…Felt a tug in my stomach, and it was pulling on a pretty sizeable one.

"...Hey, Jason. Yoo-hoo." Cassie's voice trailed off concerningly as she waved a small hand in front of my face, but I was already zoning her out to focus in on the ability the Celestial Grimoire was beginning to reel in.

Heroic Aptitude (Legend of Zelda: Four Swords - 400 CP)

When Link's adventure started, he was like an egg, waiting to hatch into a proper hero. It was through the tests of courage put forth by the Great Fairies that he was able to become a true hero, and through his storming of the Palace of Winds, defeating of Vaati, and rescuing of Zelda that he became the greatest of heroes.

Like him, you grow from adversity and challenge. Even if you were but a simple lad, a young boy who only barely counted as a knight, you could find yourself growing far more skilled and deadly as you conquer the challenges set before you. From simple skill with the sword to the complicated use of various items such as bombs and boomerangs, from clever use of the mind to conquer puzzles and leading a team to having what most might consider a gifted skill with a mystical weapon, you shall find yourself rapidly advancing in all these and more as you face challenges that test you to your limits.

The harder the challenge, the greater the gain, and should you find yourself on a quest such as Link's, facing tests of courage in dangerous locations against hordes of monsters to prepare you to rescue your love from a mighty and ancient demon lord...you could go from unknown zero to legendary hero in no time at all.

All you have to do is survive the path ahead.

With my newest friend still speaking to me, I didn't have much time to come to a decision - but neither did I feel as if I needed to spend more time thinking over it. Link was a fucking badass, and a paragon of virtue and strength. If this gave me even a fraction of his potential, it was worth its absolute weight in gold - and I knew, intrinsically, that I had enough charges to grab it.

As I accepted my newest ability into my embarrassingly small pool, it felt like putting on a toasty new pair of socks - just right.

"-oblem if you just zone out like that." Cassie was saying quietly, a concerned look on her face. A couple other passengers were looking in our direction as well, but I ignored them in favor of focusing on the girl in front of me.

"Sorry, what?" I scratched my cheek, still a bit distracted by the warm feeling of…heroism? Greatness? Settling into my soul. It was almost impossible to describe in words.

"What the fuck?" The girl leaned back, her hands letting go of my sleeve in favor of giving me a probing look. I forced myself to come down from the high feeling, recognizing her perturbation for what it was…she probably thought I was crazy. Or on some kinda drug. Despite having met each other roughly an hour ago, it wasn't like we fully knew each other or our life stories. I'd be plenty weirded out if my vagrant traveling companion was zoning out for a full sixty seconds in the middle of conversation.

I could've told her a little bit, maybe. Say that I was a Cape and part of my abilities involved me zoning out for 30-120 seconds as I played with little motes of powers in my soul…but something really deep inside of me told me that that would be an incredibly stupid idea. In addition to the fact that there were more than a couple skinheads lurking on the bus, stealing glances at the clearly POC teenagers hanging near the back, something told me that other things were possibly listening in too. Like maybe the giantess angel alien bitch lurking in the stratosphere.

Speaking of being watched, though - I chanced a dry smirk, glancing in skinheads' direction out the corner of my eye. Three bald headed men, one big and beefy and the other two closer to my height, blatantly sneering at us from across the bus. They weren't even sitting down, doing the truly masculine thing and gripping the rails and weathering the bus's jostling. 'Yeah, I see you assholes.' I just hoped that they fucked off before we got to our stop.

My mind was made up, however. I wasn't revealing shit right now - not until I had a better explanation than soul magic.

So…diversion time.

I churned the mana pool in my core - if mana cores were even a thing - and internally activated Force of Spirit. From what I could tell, it wasn't as much of a spell as it was an…active power? Like activating a class feature in D , rather than actively casting something with somatic or verbal components. Fortunately, that meant that it was silent and, hopefully, hard to detect.

The charisma boost was immediately apparent, but this time I tried to rein it down and control it, rather than let it control me. Already, I could feel my empathy working overtime, giving me subtle hints on how to handle the uncomfortable girl in front of me. She needed reassurance, that much was obvious, but giving her a little bit to work with and chew on while playing up my already mysterious bad boy vibe would help just as well.

The power wasn't only internal and perception-based either, though. It affected the focus of my charisma as well, if only slightly - something I needed to keep an eye on intensely. Cassie was still antsy beneath my lidded stare, but I could see some of the discomfort fading into nervousness. It was enough to almost make me crack a grin.

"Relax," I sighed quietly, leaning back in the stained and bumpy bus seat and gesturing for her to do the same. She eyed me suspiciously, but only a moment passed before she forcibly relaxed her shoulders and leaned back beside me. Her questioning gaze didn't simmer, however.

"Cool, now firstly…" I paused, feigning a look of inner turmoil, as if I was thinking how best to formulate my words. Feigning such looks weren't new to me - I spent most of my life masking and faking reactions that most people did naturally, and this was as much me as it was my power guiding my actions. "I'm not on drugs, Cassie. C'mon now."

An explosive, stressful breath burst from the Asian girl's mouth, and I tried not to hold the unfortunate scent against her. "I mean, can you blame me? Meet enough…'friends' on the streets and you start to wonder, no matter how nice they seem." Though her voice was its usual low and smoky sass, Force of Spirit pinged the dejection there. Fear? She was scared I was another freak that she'd have to flee from at the next stop.

Homelessness truly fucking sucked.

It was probably too soon, but with how handsy she was I felt it would only help the situation. Smoothly, I laid my much larger hand on top of her own, the warmth of my body immediately contrasting her clamminess. Instincts had her pulling back instantly, and I let her arm retreat without breaking eye contact. I didn't blink when she slowly, timidly, crept her hand back into mine.

"I get it. I know I'm a…'noob' at this whole street rat thing, but I don't plan on wasting away popping mollies or getting drunk." I narrowed my eyes, seriousness - genuine seriousness - deepening the youthful lines of my face. "Sometimes I kinda just zone out and think about shit. How to handle the next steps. Where to go. What to do. It helps keep me focused on the task at hand. And right now, I'm tryna figure out how best to…"

My eyes cut harshly to the left, in the direction of the skinheads, and I pinched the back of her hand when she went to blatantly look in their direction.

"Ow! Why the-"

"Look slowly, Cassie. They look anything like law-abiding citizens to you?" I leaned in to whisper this, making it seem more like a boyfriend whispering sweet nothings to his dirty hobo gf, but I kept an eye out in my peripheral. They were glaring now, and one was texting on his phone.

Cassie apparently saw them too now, because the hand in my grip suddenly squeezed the ever living shit outta me. The sudden quivering definitely wasn't from the cold. "Shit. Shit! How long have they been watching us?"

I gave her a wry smile. "I noticed it like ten minutes ago, but they were probably staring for longer."

"Fuck. We need to get off soon. In a public spot - preferably near a mall or something. This is their territory, so they'll probably still follow, but…"

"Vagrancy 101, huh?" I chuckled, but Cassie clearly didn't share in my amusement judging by the thin-lipped scowl she shot me. I sighed again. "How about we head to the religious cult you seem so afraid of. I doubt they can beat up the entire homeless community in Downtown Brockton."

Her hackles were raised again, but not enough to ward off my sorcery. I could see her chewing through her options in her head, eyes closed and forehead wrinkled. Maybe I needed to prod at it a little bit more?

"Come on, Cass. I don't know about you, but I'm not tryna go at this completely alone. Let's just check it out, get some food, and if the vibe's not there we dip."

She exhaled again, and when she opened her eyes, there was steel there that the awareness of the skinheads had previously melted down. Judging by the sardonic quirk of her lips, I wasn't doing too good of a job at hiding my relief, but she opted to not comment on it.

"Screw it then, let's go meet your benevolent saviors," Cassie breathed, jerking her head to the side and throwing a glance out the window. Something she saw clearly kicked her into high gear, because she was immediately jumping to her feet and pulling me up after her. "Monroe Avenue, right?"

"Yep." I popped the P, hustling behind her as she began marching down the aisle at a brisk pace. As we passed by the clear Empire 88 goons, I tried not to let anything show on my face, even when I heard them move to follow behind us. We'd probably have to leg it to the shelter.

Cassie didn't spare them a glance, too busy waving her arm and calling out, "Hey, bus driver! Let us off here!"

Thankfully Cass had the four dollars we both needed for bus fare, and within seconds of her loudly stopping the bus we were out into the streets of Brockton Bay once again - only this time, there was a destination in mind and a burning fire in our guts to reach it before we were stabbed or shot. Force of Spirits still had a few minutes left on its duration - I'd discovered that it lasted for about ten minutes - but somehow I doubted that the racist bigots behind us would be swayed by a homeless black teen waxing poetically about equality and peace. We moved briskly down the street, refusing to turn the stalking into a full-on high speed chase.

Just like slobbering dogs, thugs escalated when you showed them fear.

"This is the Southside then, huh?" I murmured to myself, walking with my hands stuffed in the pockets of my warm, ill-gained hoodie. Sure enough, the buildings here were less...shiny than the Northside - less skyscrapers, for sure. Whereas Northside held a lot more stores and business buildings, this part of Downtown seemed residential. Traffic slowed to what felt like a much more sinister crawl, and the population thinned substantially. Sure, there was the occasional hobo on the sidewalk or citizen wandering to and from their apartment, but there were also more gang tags and busted up windows.

I shifted uncomfortably. This felt off.

"This feels weird, Jason..."

Cassie clearly felt it too. I ignored the coolness of her hand reaching into my hoodie pocket and gripping my warm one, instead chancing a glance backwards to check on our tails.

They...weren't there.

I froze, my heart going from 0 to 60 in one point four seconds. Fear coalesced around my mind, but something in me rebelled against the very human desire to panic. I also felt a tug in my soul, and inwardly, I was hoping beyond fucking hope that my fishing line caught something useful for getting the fuck out of dodge. "Cass, hold on."

The asian girl was jolted back mid-step due to my abrupt stop, and turned with an annoyed and fearful scowl in order to answer me - only to stop when her eyes wandered slightly to the left of my head and realized the same thing I saw. Whatever stopped the panic inside me - probably my Heroic Aptitude - clearly had no hold in her soul, because she almost immediately let go of my hand and darted away. Only my quick reflexes allowed me to grab her wrist in turn and pull her closer. "Chill! If they slipped away and wrapped around, they probably know where we're going. You were right - coming here was dumb." I definitely felt stupid, but already I was trying to come up with ways to get out of this.

In her defense, Cassie reined her panicking in pretty fast. Breathing faster and sweating dirt tracts down the side of her face, the girl rotated a full 360, her dark eyes narrowed and glaring as she looked for gang bangers that just weren't there. "Fuck, okay. Alright, we can handle this. I don't know these alleys, but they're probably waiting closer to the shelter to grab us. We can just-"

"Go the other way?" I asked, shaking my head. "One of 'em was texting on his phone. They're probably tryna box us in their neighborhood."

"What, so you wanna keep going to that shelter? We don't even know which building it is. Who's to say they're not fucking in on it?!"

Ice ran through my veins. That nice old lady...she wouldn't have, right? Fuck, would she have even known? "The alternative is to turn around and get ambushed on our way out." She still looked unconvinced. A brief glance inwards showed that my charisma buff had already run out, and even if it hadn't, I wasn't too sure on the intelligence of forcing her to go my way if coming here was already a bad decision on my end.

We'd already been standing in place for a couple minutes now. We were sitting ducks, and a decision had to be made.

It was fifty fifty chance that the shelter was an actual shelter, and I...felt like we had to risk it. Better than running away for God knew how long, hoping they didn't catch up while screaming for help. Plus, something about that just rankled me the wrong way. If I was placed here, on Earth Bet, with the fucking Celestial Grimoire in my chest, I wasn't going to just flip over and take it up the ass. I didn't want to dive headfirst into danger, but a few bald racists with no powers?

'WWLD...what would Link do?'

"Just trust me on this one." I sighed, staring Cassie dead in the eyes. "Please."

Silence filled the space between us for a few seconds, and I was genuinely worried that I would have to just leave her and do my own thing. Cowardice or not, I wasn't going to risk my neck for someone I'd just met if they weren't willing to listen to reason. However, when she let out a huff and smacked herself on the cheeks with a muttered grumble of 'fucking idiot', I felt my spirit lighten. No abandoning my new hobo friend just yet it seemed.

"Fine," Cassie frowned, looking away with stormy annoyance clear on her face. "If I get killed I'm haunting the fuck outta you, just so you know."

"I don't blame ya," I replied dully, forcing myself to continue walking down the sidewalk. After a moment's hesitation, Cassie followed a few steps behind me, clearly not enthused about walking into a veritable trap. I kept my eyes peeled, though, hoping that the homeless shelter had a sign or poster or something that made it distinctive from the sleuth of near identical apartments that lined the street.

As we walked and I scanned the buildings, the Celestial Grimoire heaved again, and that ability I felt it tugging on before suddenly coalesced in my soul.

Weapon Magic (Undertale - 100 CP)

While a Monster can learn how to wield a weapon just like a human can, Monsters can take their mastery one step further, and apply their skill at arms to their magic! With a single purchase of Weapon Magic, you can make copies of the weapon you're currently wielding and use them as projectiles, or manipulate them remotely like you would the real weapon- But they'll be magical copies, and not physical objects, so while contact will hurt your foe like a magic attack would, it's not as if you actually slashed them with a sword.

I accepted the offered mote of power, and as it floated down into my soul, I felt the technique latch on and ingrain itself inside of my being. A smirk found its way onto my face.

Yeah, I can do a lil' bit with this. I had to wonder, though - did miscellaneous objects and trash found on the side of the street count as a 'weapon'?

300 CP Remaining.

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A Mage's Guide to the Multiverse (Celestial Grimoire SI, Worm Start) by Throwaway1971

Books » Private Rated: M, English, Romance, Words: 202k+, Favs: 160, Follows: 196, Published: Jan 17, 2024 Updated: Mar 20, 2024

24Chapter 03 - A New Whip

The thing about the Southside residential was the unfortunate amount of nooks and crannies nestled everywhere. If we hadn't already been tagged as prey, it would've been good for us - I'm sure dipping into one of the dozens of complexes or zipping up a fire escape in order to hide on the second floor patio of some random asshole would've been an amazing plan to stay out of trouble. The problem was, we were already in the shits. I had no idea where those goons went, and I didn't have an ability that allowed me to scout things out, so I was stuck with my very human perception…and was it too late now to say I was in need of glasses?

Unfortunately, random miscellaneous objects didn't seem to count for my newest magic. Attempting to summon a magical variant of the ID card in my pocket definitely didn't work, and I had no intentions of pushing the issue in the middle of the sidewalk beside my - tentatively labeled - muggle hobo friend. It would have to be a trial by fire, and something told me that trial would be close at hand soon.

The end of the street was coming up, and right at the corner's intersection - just before the stop sign, I could see a rundown apartment building. If not for the large, chipped white cross tied crookedly to the gate in front, I would never have noticed. We were still a ways away - maybe a couple minute's walk - but it was still close enough for me to notice the cross, even if it was a bit blurry.

It was also impossible not to notice the silence. It was a cold, uneasy silence; one that felt artificial, or forced. I glanced behind me, and noticed that the few people who were out letting their dog shit or checking their mail had gone back inside, as if they sensed the stillness in the air themselves.

"Jason," Cass elbowed my side, and I turned back around to give her a confused glance. Her brow was drawn down in concern. "Look."

I followed her line of sight, and abruptly, I felt my mouth go dry. Apparently I hadn't noticed, but there were a few people still out and about. Or, more accurately, people came out as we made our way up the street. Skinheads, for the most part - leaning against stoops, sitting on parked cars. It wasn't like a mob or something, maybe about five or six in total just watching us - which was very fortunate, because I didn't think I could handle reenacting a scene from Get Out.

I'd already seen quite a few black, asian, and even hispanic people Downtown anyway, so I knew that the gang couldn't have been that plentiful and voracious as to lynch any and all people of color on sight. This was targeted and planned ever since they saw the two of us, one black and the other pretty and Asian, seemingly searching for paradise on the back of a bus. Going to one of the few homeless shelters in the Southside must've really cinched it in.

It wasn't just us, individually. They had some sick romantic twist to their savagery. It made me fucking sick to my stomach.

"Keep moving." I commanded, but my voice was unsure even to my own ears. I gritted my teeth and wrapped my hand around Cassie's, tugging her with me. "They're not even hiding anymore. We gotta move."

"Fuck, okay. Just…fuck." I could feel her shaking, but she seemed to draw comfort from the skinship. I couldn't guarantee that we'd be holding hands throughout the entire confrontation, but if it helped her keep going then that's all I needed for now.

We continued to move down the sidewalk, this time at a much more brisk pace, and the pit in my stomach grew when one of the skinheads - this one wearing a red bomber jacket and shades - made a very obvious gesture to two of his lackeys. They weren't even that far away, leaning against a building maybe sixty or so feet up the curb, but that distance was quickly disappearing and now the two were making their way towards us.

In my peripheral vision, I could see the asshole in the jacket - who I took as their leader - gesturing to someone else on the other side of the road. They were gonna box us in.

Cassie's hand tightened on mine, and I narrowed my eyes. If I was gonna nut up and do anything, now was the fucking time. I brought her into this, and although I didn't have a lot of faith in the shelter, my gut was telling me that gang violence probably wasn't allowed on the inside. At the very least, I was hoping this 'Maxine' chick was both not racist and toting a shotgun. The two goons moving to intercept us didn't seem to be packing lead, but who knew what they had in the waistband of their jeans.

"Jason…"

"I know. Just-...just follow my lead."

They were within speaking distance now, and as they swaggered towards us with all the arrogance of two predators cornering prey, I was finally able to take in the full breadth of their ugly life choices without my short-sightedness blurring the details.

The thug on the left was big - much bigger than my average 5'11", and weighing in on the well sought-after 6'4". A big, splotchy black swastika ran up the side of his neck, curling in on his acne-scarred face and stopping a few centimeters below his scowling lips. Muscles seemed to be built on top of his muscles, but all of the beefiness lagged towards the middle, where a prodigious beer gut threatened to rip his wifebeater.

Almost in direct contrast, the smaller guy on the right looked…normal. Sure, he was bald, but there were no overt displays of neo-nazism threatening to make him a hit artist on Soundcloud. The wickedness in his eyes when he looked over Cassie, though…beefy or not, I wanted to stomp his fucking face in.

I figured I'd do the ol' 'ignore and brush past' trick, just to see if Lady Luck was watching my shitty isekai adventure with relish, but Wifebeater immediately put an end to that wish by shoulder checking me with his much broader body. I felt the wind get knocked out of me instantly, a rattling wheeze surging from my chest as I bounced backwards and nearly toppled over Cassie.

"Hey! The fuck's your problem, lard-ass?!" she yelled angrily, fear temporarily forgotten in the face of seeing me eat shit. The girl was dragging me to my feet immediately, and the only lingering evidence of her very genuine fear was the violent shaking of her hands when she grabbed onto me.

The thin thug grinned, showing a gapped row of yellowing teeth. "Oh look," he drawled, amused, "The chink is worried 'bout her star-crossed lover. 'Nuff to make a man like me cry."

I breathed slowly, steadily, forcing my lungs to take in oxygen at a normal rate. "Cheap shot." I muttered tersely, wiping my bloody hands on my sweatpants. I must've skinned them when I fell.

"What was that? 'Cause it didn't fuckin' sound like an 'excuse me', did it Mac?" The mean-eyed thug glanced over to his big partner, Mac apparently.

"Naw." 'Mac' blinked slowly, a scowl on his lips.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Say it again, boy."

God, hearing such blatant racism in modern day America felt like liquid fire being poured in my veins. Everything in me rebelled against the very thought of not swinging on the ignorant hicks. I'd swung on people in the past for less. But it wasn't just me in danger here, and I wasn't brought here with the Celestial Sledgehammer. The confrontation was right in front of me, and I had to think my way through this. My new magic was waiting patiently in my soul to be called upon, and I knew how to use it…I just needed a fucking weapon.

My eyes glanced around sporadically, searching for something sharp in a desperate fervor. My ID card hadn't worked, but it was a slip of plastic - why would it? But weapons weren't inherently metal, or even dangerous. Fucking John Wick proved that with a pencil-

"Answer me when I ask a question! Deck 'em, Mac."

I focused back on the two, eyes widening as I began to raise my hands. The big guy, Mac, was closing in fast, and I had no time to even think. Instinctively, I moved to throw a punch-

SMACK.

Heat and pain shot through my head, and for a second I was floating. My ear was ringing, my cheek felt like hamburger meat, and I swear I could feel a tooth going down my throat. What the fuck even happened? I could hear yelling, too - loud, scared, angry. It sounded like…

Cass?

I fought through the staticy white noise droning through my skull. I couldn't just fucking lay here!

"-you doing? We haven't done shit to any of you!"

"Stupid cunt, it's one thing to be on our turf. We can hardly stop alla' yous. But it's another to be interbreedin' your nastiness here too."

"W-what? We're not even together you hillbilly fuck! Leave us alone!"

Things were blurry, and vaguely, through the ringing and noises, I could hear what sounded like a metallic 'shlick'. Adrenaline pumped through my body at the distinctly familiar sound, and I forced my eyes to clear. When I did, fear shot through my heart like a bullet.

Cassie was holding a switchblade, one clearly well taken care of, and she was pointing it at the two thugs who seemed genuinely surprised at the move. The shaking of her wrist, though, was too obvious. She wasn't just scared…no, she was downright horrified. Whether it was due to being in a life or death situation, or because she was being stared down by two nazis and watched at a distance by more, I had no idea.

All I knew was that I had to do something, and she was giving me that opportunity. I reached deep within myself and activated Force of Spirit. The pull on my mana pool was noticeable, but minor.

"Don't be stupid now, girl. Put that fuckin' knife down." No one was listening to Bugs Bunny at this point, though. Cass was too scared, and I was too focused.

I must've made a noise when I snapped back to reality, because her eyes darted down towards me for a brief moment. That's when I realized that I was, in fact, eating shit on the concrete once again. "Jay! D-don't worry, we-"

Suddenly, as soon as she looked away, Mac the pudgy bulldozer began to move again, and I knew that our time window was practically nonexistent. I had to enact my shittily thought-of plan now.

My voice came out loud, clear, and commanding, causing even the thugs to hesitate for a split second at the sudden power in my tone. "Toss me the knife!"

Her eyes were wide in shock and fear, I noticed, but her body seemed to submit to my demand before her mind even had the opportunity to catch up. The switchblade was tossed my way just as Mac bodily slammed into the small girl, and the sound of something snapping in her body would probably haunt my nightmares for the next few weeks. Still, I couldn't hesitate out of fear or concern now.

I caught the knife clumsily by the blade, cutting open the palm of my hand, but that pain felt like nothingness in the face of the pure power that filled my body. I knew then, without any doubt or hesitance, how to call forth my magic. It wasn't a spell by normal mage or wizardry means…Undertale didn't work like that. It was pure magical power, through and through, and I called upon it the same way I did my other ability - by pulling directly from my mana core.

I could feel the drain immediately, like unclogging matted up hair from your shower drain, but that was fine. Magic like this probably needed precision. Bursts. I instantly deactivated Force of Spirit.

Around me, half a dozen knives of wispy, almost smoke-like gold mana formed like a magical shroud. I could feel each one, and knew that, with only a little urging from my mind, I could send them flying at my enemies. Now was not the time to think deeper on the ramifications of actually doing it, though. I'd never been squeamish about violence, and that wouldn't start now.

Eyes cold and fierce, I twisted the switchblade around in my palm and gestured towards Mac. "Go."

And my magical blades responded instantly. All six shot forward too fast for me to track, completely silent other than a graceful 'woosh' that sounded more like a bird of prey diving at a meal.

"AHHH FUCK!" The thuggish brute choked out a scream as the magical switchblades embedded hilt-deep into the side of his torso, sending him toppling over to the side and off of the groaning and dazed Cassie. I didn't have time to check on either of them, though - I was already dashing at the skinny bastard.

"...What the fuck?! Cape? CAPE! BOSS, HE-"

There were only a few feet between the two of us, and he was not in the right mindset to defend himself so suddenly. There was a brief feeling of nausea as the very real switchblade sank deep into the nazi's gut, but it wasn't like I hadn't trained for four odd years to kill for even worse reasons. I didn't hesitate to wrench the knife out and plug another hole in the bastard's chest for good measure. Warm blood squelched around the blade, drenching my hands and staining my navy hoodie with red.

"Ughhhh…" I glanced over to the sprawled mess that was the brutish nazi and a cursing Cass. She was conscious and starting to sit up, fortunately, but her ankle was fucked - that had to have been the snap earlier. Mac was still alive, and I didn't know whether or not I was happy about that. He was collapsed, groaning, and seemingly unconscious, but definitely not bleeding out. The knives had already faded from his body, leaving only singed holes in his tank top. Why the fuck was he still alive?

The sound of rushing footsteps from the street caused me to dart my head in that direction. Two thugs - the ones who the leader had gestured to a couple minutes prior - were sprinting in my direction. One hand a baseball bat clenched in his grip, and the other had…

My heart stopped.

"Get down!" I hissed at Cass, leapfrog-tackling her back to the ground as gunshots started to hit the rundown building above us. I did my best to avoid jostling the clearly broken ankle with my knee, but judging by her pained cry of 'fucker!' I clearly didn't do a good enough job. "Gettin' shot at, bear with me!"

I rolled to my side, drawing on my dwindling mana pool and conjuring another two mana-knives overhead. Fortunately Mac had tackled her behind a bit of cover in the form of a knocked over mailbox, one of those chunky blue ones, so I was still able to see the thugs well enough to send the twin golden blades darting through the air towards their faces.

In their defense, they did attempt to dodge, but it seemed like my magical weapons moved at roughly the speed of a particularly lethal arrow, meaning…they had no chance. This time, when the golden blades 'thunk'd' inside of their faces, I knew that they were dead. There was no blood, no gory display of bone and brain matter…just the mana-shaped knives peacefully going into their flesh, and them careening backwards and collapsing bonelessly in the middle of the street.

In the brief, few seconds of respite I had then, I felt my soul line snap while attempting to bring in another ability, but I had no time to worry about missed opportunities. The asshole in the red bomber was yelling animatedly into his phone while gesturing down the street towards us, and I just knew that whatever he was saying would not, in any way, bode well for me or Cass.

However, it seemed like he was the last E88 thug in the area, and I didn't like the thought of just leaving loose ends. My mana pool was the lowest it'd been so far - I needed food, water, and definitely some rest - but I felt like I had enough for a few more knives.

"Jason…" Cassie's voice brought me out of my intense observation of the leader, and I whipped my head back to look at her. She was holding her fucked up ankle, pain etched into every crevice on her face…but when she looked at me, I didn't sense any fear. I half expected her to go hobbling off crying 'murderous cape' or something, but she just seemed…sorta surprised? Grateful? It didn't matter, I had to go take care of Nazi Ring Leader #1. Now wasn't the time to second guess myself or let myself be weighed down by fear.

If I stopped now, I was scared I wouldn't get back up to fight again. I needed to keep going.

"Hold that thought, Cass. Icin' nazis right now."

"But-"

I pushed off of my knuckles and feet, going from lying on the sidewalk behind the mailbox to outright sprinting up the road. The gunshots would definitely have drawn attention, and I really didn't want to be in the area when and if more gang bangers or cops showed up. My 'action hero' meter was already filled up for the day, and it was barely 11 AM.

Weapon Magic came easier to me now, each magical switchblade draining a small amount of mana as the golden weapons hovered just over my head. One, two, three, four of them rotated in place, ready to peel off and…nonlethally kill people?

My movement didn't go unnoticed, and it wasn't like I could even be stealthy with the man watching me from the hood of what I assumed to be his Charger, parked at the top of the curb. Panic was clear in his body language now as he ducked behind his car and grabbed for something in the seat, but I was already close enough to get a bead on his location.

'I'm up, he sees me, I'm down!'

I dove behind another mailbox as the first pistol shot rang out, and stumbled more than rolled the rest of the distance behind a parked F-150. Two more shots rang out, the loud, metallic 'plink' telling me that the rounds were slamming against the front of the poor truck.

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

As soon as the pistol spat out the last bullet, I gritted my teeth, squeezed my asscheeks, and twisted out from behind cover. I lashed forward with Cass's switchblade like a fucking magical wand, forcing the mana blades hovering around me to blast forward with more speed than normal. I emptied out my already dwindling pool of magic, assured in the knowledge that it would grow stronger and regenerate from this expenditure, and was rewarded with displaced cracks of air as the magical switchblades tore through the streets with the speed of bullets.

The distance between the two of us was still pretty wide - maybe around 80 or 90 feet - but my aim didn't need to be the greatest when a simple command sent the blades flying in a straight line. I was barely able to see the result since I threw myself back into cover almost immediately, but judging by the scream of pain and lack of return fire…I assumed that I managed to land at least one of them.

'That excellent marksmanship badge has to count for something, right?' I snorted, cautiously sticking my hand out from behind the Ford. A few seconds passed and no bullets turned my arm to swiss cheese, so I tentatively stepped out from behind the bullet-ridden truck and made my way up to the nazi's Charger. It was pretty swanky - seemed modern, and the paint wasn't as bright-ugly red as the loser owner's jacket, so I had to give him a point towards car taste at the very least.

I found two of my mana blades sticking inside of the passenger door, warping the paint around them, and the other two were…

Well, they didn't actively tear into his neck and forehead at least, so all I saw was his limp body lying on the pavement with little golden switchblades embedded in the flesh. As soon as I thought about them disappearing, all of the switchblades faded away into little motes of golden mana which dematerialized into thin air.

Huh. Pretty handy. Just in case, I crouched down to check his pulse. Dead stillness met my fingers. Dead as a fuckin' doorknob.

I shook my head, brushing the thought away.

"Now for the good part…" I muttered, cinching my hoodie strings tighter so that it rode up to securely cover the bottom of my face. Satisfied that any nosy onlookers, if they decided to come outside within the next hour, wouldn't see much of my face, I began digging around the dead nazi's pockets. I didn't have much time before whoever the fuck he was on the phone with showed up, and the E88 had some really scary fuckers on their rosters - all of 'em Capes. We weren't gonna get too far on foot with Cass having a broken ankle, though, and considering the fact that ol' boy had a whole wine red muscle car just going to waste here…

"Aha!" I pulled his keys out of his jacket's right pocket, frowning minutely down at the black and red swastika attached to the keyring. A quick yank broke it off, and I disgustedly tossed it down onto its former owner's chest. Pocketing the keys, I spent a few seconds combing around the vehicle for anything overtly…nazi-like. There was another swastika hanging from the rearview mirror, and I had to toss out a mini version of Mein Kampf, but otherwise the car was pretty even smelled decent, which surprised me. I figured all nazis smelled like rotten eggs and urine.

I am not ashamed to admit that I took a moment to loot the dead dude's wallet, which had a nice few hundreds just sitting idly inside. Yoink.

When I finally cranked the bad boy up and drove down the street to pick up my crippled hitchhiker, Cassie was sitting on the side of the curb with her arms crossed and a very unimpressed frown on her face. I rolled the passenger-side window down and matched her frown with an innocent smile.

"Get in loser, we're going shopping."

Silence met my shitty reference. Hell, did they even have Mean Girls in Earth Bet? Or maybe it was my monotonous delivery-

"Jay," Cass cut through my inner monologue, struggling to stand on one leg in order to move towards the door. I moved to hop out and help, obviously, but she shook her head with a sardonic chuckle. "I feel useless enough right now, I can get in by myself - don't worry. But you know this car's probably gonna be tracked down, right?" She swung the door open and carefully lowered herself into the passenger seat, not able to hide her winces of pain whatsoever.

I gave a shrug. I knew that, of course. "We'll ditch it once we make it to a hospit-"

"No!" Cass suddenly yelled, eyes wide and wild as she jerked her head towards me. Doing so seemed to jostle her ankle, though, as she almost immediately groaned and leaned back into the leather seat. "Fuck. Sorry. Just-...no hospital, please. I'll be fine, just head towards the Docks."

I blinked, heart still beating a bit faster at the abrupt shout. "...Yeah, alright. What, you got some secret base out there? All secret-identitied up and everything?"

"..." She fiddled with her phone, pouting down at the cracked screen.

"...Bullshit." I gaped, surprise pulling my brows up into my hairline as I pulled out of Monroe Avenue and onto the slow and quiet highway.

Cassie side-eyed me, her pout stretching up into a sardonic smirk. "Yeah? And I'm guessing the whole golden lightshow was part of the reason why your dad kicked you out." The heavy dosage of sarcasm coating her words made it clear just how much she believed that theory.

"Touche." I closed my gaping mouth, returning my tired gaze to the road.

Silence descended inside the car, broken momentarily by me reaching forward to turn the heater on. It wasn't a comfortable silence, per se - not like what we had before all of the magic was thrown around and I left four dead bodies cooling before happy hour. I didn't really know where to drive in order to reach the Docks, but Cassie hadn't admonished me for missing a turn yet so I figured I was going roughly in the right direction.

I was more puzzled on why she didn't seem too…shocked by my abilities. Or by me killing those assholes. Sure, they were racist nazis who attacked first, but most human beings didn't just kill that easily. I hadn't exactly wanted to kill them myself, but they'd seen my face and didn't seem like the type to just let bygones be bygones. I'd killed before coming to Brockton Bay, and the act had never bothered me the same way it did other people. Logically, I knew why - a big part being my own mental quirks.

I just didn't expect her to be as…okay with everything?

"If you're thinking that everything's all peachy right now, you'd be wrong." Cassie's low voice sounded from beside me. I didn't glance over, opting to stay focused on the road, but the slow, rhythmic tapping of my index finger against the cheetah-printed steering wheel was evidence enough that I was listening.

"I'm not…well, I'm not a hero. Or a villain. Or a killer. I got a place in the Docks, but it's not much, and it's more of a…hideaway." She let out a few dry chuckles, and began flicking away at her cracked phone screen again. I felt like it was more of a comfort thing than anything else. Another small stretch of silence passed, before she sighed violently and spoke again, "I'm a Tinker…not that I can even do much. I can make phone apps, I guess - programs and stuff. Coding. And I can hack into things pretty easily, but in a place like Brockton Bay…"

"Yeah, a lotta places are probably on the lookout for shit like that, right?" I finally spoke up, glancing over at Cassie.

She nodded quickly, seemingly both relieved and nervous that I was taking active part in the conversation. "Yup. It's why I got, uhh…" She bit her thin bottom lip, eyes darting everywhere but my face. It only took a moment for her to muscle up the courage to finish the sentence. "I got caught up with a bad crowd, wasn't really planning on staying for too long…and figured I'd skim a bit off the top before I left, maybe help some friends out too on the way out. I r-rushed the plan, got a lotta good people fucked over."

I could practically feel the hurt in her voice as she spoke. It pulled at my empathy - or maybe that was the Grimoire attempting to reel in yet another mote of light. Regardless, I felt for her. Cassie was sorta like me, in a sense - a strong girl who tried not to let other people in too deep, because her inside was actually really soft. I wasn't a girl, and neither was my insides super soft or whatever…but the rest of it fit.

I took my right hand off of the steering wheel and silently laid it on her knee. Her small hand gripped it almost immediately after.

"People get greedy, and you were probably pretty young. Shit happens, Cass." I tried to reassure her.

Cassie shook her head stubbornly. "I was sixteen. I was young, yeah, but I should've known better. The ABB doesn't play around with their 'merchandise'." She spat the last word out like poison, and I was idly glad that this wasn't actually my car.

"Yeah, well you got a yellow laser pointer as a homie now so…ABB beware, right?" I offered her an intentionally cheesy grin, hoping to get at least one genuine smile out of the downtrodden girl now dubbed 'illegal hacker'.

Her lips warbled upwards in a facsimile of a smile, so I took that as minor success.

"You ever gonna explain that, by the way? Like, did you already have that in…'reserve' or-"

I glanced away as the mote of light in my soul tried to worm away out of my fishing line. The Grimoire probably didn't like being ignored, and honestly, I didn't really wanna go into the origins of my magic right now anyway. If she hung around me for much longer, she'd be seeing a lot more than piss knives, and the less I had to explain away each spell the better. I doubt I could just say 'HA I'm a mage, silly cape'.

"-ason, no, you are not zoning your way outta this one you asshole-"

[(Terraria - 100 CP)]Everyone who comes here may gain the potential to cast spells, but you are a cut above the rest. Your Mana Pool is twice as large, and has the potential to grow even farther, and magic that you cast is simply more potent compared to what it might be normally. Spells you cast hit harder and are harder to resist.

My lips twitched up into a smirk, and I reeled the mote of light into my soul with a speed that would make pro fishermen jealous.

"Ew, don't smirk and smolder while ignoring me. You are definitely up to something wei-"

I could feel my mana, previously running on empty and reminiscent to a small pond, suddenly double in size. Now it felt like a…medium-sized pond? But the mana within was stronger, denser, more viscous and potent as opposed to its previous thin and crisp feeling.

It wasn't an array of crazy spells or magical items, but the passive improvement was possibly more valuable than all of that.

I pulled myself out of my inner examination just as we reached a red light. Traffic was still light, with only a couple cars behind me from what I could see in my rearview mirror, but I still felt antsy. We were, so far, outta the area where all the action went down, but I probably wouldn't feel completely safe until we were out of the Downtown area completely.

I patted the silently frowning Cassie's knee once as an apology. "Sorry 'bout that…was just thinking about something again."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah? And what was more important than you answering my earnest questions and earning back my trust?"

"Lunch. You wanna grab some Fugly Bob's on the way to your place? Their leader had three hundred bucks on him." I withdrew my hand in order to reach into my pocket and toss her the crisp 'hunnids.

Cassie snorted. "Asshole. Fine, but you gotta take a right at this next stop sign."

"Aye aye."

Spellcaster (Terraria - 100 CP) Everyone who comes here may gain the potential to cast spells, but you are a cut above the rest. Your Mana Pool is twice as large, and has the potential to grow even farther, and magic that you cast is simply more potent compared to what it might be normally. Spells you cast hit harder and are harder to resist.

700 CP Remaining.

First scuffle didn't go too bad! For those wondering about how he is handling everything so well - in addition to the mental things going on with him from a neurological standpoint, he has Heroic Aptitude running in overdrive mode to shape him into a hero, and you don't see Link sprinting away from the first sign of danger or puking out his guts, right? Don't worry, it definitely won't be an instant thing - and you can still see the effect everything has on him.

Overall, though, Jason is someone who has dulled emotions and empathy already. He doesn't fit into the mold most people fit in, and a lot of his life was built around being negatively affected by that. As an adult, he just doesn't care to hide it anymore. Not to mention the military tends to curb a lot of shit inside of you as well.

Since this is a SI, I'm mainly going off of my own life experiences alongside a bit of embellishment for the sake of an entertaining story. He's an autistic veteran who hides his sociopathy behind a veneer of casual apathy and nonchalance. I can't wait to write him interacting with more of the cast.

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