And so they stole back what was rightfully theirs from those who had dared to take it. It was truly a pity that the thieves were smarter than their countless mistakes suggested.

The Forsaken King: Lost Secrets

**

Adelaide. The cosmopolitan coastal capital of South Australia. Home to outstanding amounts of the arts, museums, and cultural history alike, it was truly the place to be. Even in the savage, post-System world of Earth. Hundreds of thousands of people roamed the bustling streets, going about their days in relative normalcy, collecting their daily allocation of rations or going to the impromptu markets to buy and sell their spoils of battle or handmade trinkets.

Unfortunately, the city’s population was meant to be a bit over a million.

Families were torn apart by the cataclysmic transportation of the Tutorial and people were left displaced and lost. Panic and confusion reigned for a time, and fights broke out in the streets hourly as people warred for a chance at the coveted food and water. The place hadn’t always been as peaceful as it was now. No, instead it had been an epitome of chaos. Up until she arrived.

Ari Ahnjong, the Mirage. By now, she was known far and wide throughout the city as the woman who calmed the waves and paved the way, taking the lead of those without a leader and once more letting Adelaide thrive as the magnificent city it was. Hailing from South Korea, she was a beauty without match in the city, though many knew it was partly to blame for the boost race levels seemed to afford them visually.

And like her looks, her power had no true equal. Not yet at least.

Brock glanced over to his side, eying the teenager from Boston as he snored away happily in the passenger seat while they tore through the stretch of dilapidated highway, a month later. Adelaide had been the closest city, yet Brock found his inner hope edging him toward every town and outpost along the way, searching for any and all signs of his mother.

As one would expect, he found nothing, although he did help many people through the struggling times, thinning the monster population significantly and liberating towns from madmen dictators that thought their rule was all but iron. He hadn’t killed those select few people, but he had certainly beaten the shit out of them and left the town to decide their fates.

He never stayed around long enough to see what that fate actually was, but he already knew it wasn’t going to be pleasant. Or kid-friendly, for that matter.

Unsurprisingly, as he inched closer and closer to civilisation, the average level of monsters plummeted massively. While twenties were fairly common out in Alice Springs, with thirties, and even forties barely uncommon further on in the dead zones of the expanse, he’d be lucky to find something above level 15 now. It was no wonder the average level of people was so low as well.

Even the most powerful of human tyrants Brock had dethroned was only a meagre level 21.

During that time, his level had stayed rather stagnant, although he had made some good progress toward the next level. He felt himself close to the edge of 24, ready to tip over the edge and into the next milestone of progression, but unfortunately, the beasts roaming around gatekept his progression. At one point he had considered sticking around in the depths of the outback and grinding out his levels, but he quickly discarded the idea. He had already wasted too much time as is.

Brock spared one more glance for sleeping beauty before bracing himself and slamming on the brakes. It was midday already. Instantly, the teen was launched forward, shattering through the window and smacking down onto the road. He rolled a few meters and awoke with a gasp, panning his gaze around frantically before it finally settled on Brock, the man trying and failing to hide his avid snickering.

“Have a good sleep?” He called out over the hood. From the frown on Harry’s face, it seemed that he indeed had not.

It had taken some getting used to, what with the whole System fuckery and all that, but the lines of what was and was not deemed dangerous - or even too far - were somewhat blurred. For example, with Harry’s Constitution surging past 200, courtesy of the 5 extra levels he’d gained during the trip, even shattering through a front screen window at 80km an hour was no different than falling on some dead grass, if a tad bit more painful.

The kid had even gained his own Augment after eating a Treasure they’d found, and it dumped into his Vitality and Constitution even further.

In fact, Brock was pretty certain that most people couldn’t even harm the kid anymore. The majority of pre-System blades bent or broke when they were used to harm him, regardless of the user’s Strength, and Tutorial weapons just simply bounced off if the wielder’s stats were lacking. His skin was bordering the strength of steel at this point, though strength was definitely a relative measure now.

Brock knew that steel probably wasn’t all that great of a material out in the Multiverse. As such, if he wanted to, he knew he could injure Harry without much effort, as destroying steel with his Augment was a pretty easy affair for the current him.

Therefore, when Harry stood on two feet and stormed back into the car without so much as a scratch, Brock couldn’t stop himself from bursting into a full-hearted laugh. Harry slammed the door shut and brushed the sharded glass from the dashboard and out onto the bonnet.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

Brock slammed a hand onto the steering wheel, quelling his laughter enough for words, “Sorry mate. But yeah, I am.”

That was the good news of all these stat enhancements. They had little to fear except the beasts and people around them. Right now, if either of them fell from that first roof that started it all, Brock was sure he’d probably survive the fall, although remain pretty badly injured, while Harry could probably just walk it off. His Constitution was almost doubling Brock’s already.

Harry soon mellowed out, although not before swearing to get his immature friend back, and they took to chatting the rest of the way. Then finally, after two more long hours, the city of Adelaide peaked over the hazed horizons, its resident towers standing tall in the sky, albeit with more than a few having evidently crumbled and collapsed. He hoped the place at large wasn’t in utter ruins.

Brock sped up, and forty-five minutes later, they passed by the first of the buildings, noticing the tell-tale degradation of time, courtesy of the System. Oddly enough, however, it seemed to be relatively tame to what they’d seen so far, and the office worker pinned them all to be looking around two decades of neglect older.

They had been shocked, however, when they crossed into the depths of the city proper and were met with a bustling population. They were roaming about with paper-wrapped ration packs underarm, with people laughing and smiling and having fun with friends and family alike. More than a few had even set up stalls to the sides of the footpaths and roads, selling various wares and supplies and shouting out their advertisements.

He didn’t miss the countless few that were struggling, however, begging for a share of people’s food or trying to snatch the wares on sale while no one was looking. Several times he even spotted groups of shady people handing off packets of a mysterious luminous pink powder to what Brock assumed were buyers. They too looked quite troublesome, seeming far too enamoured with the sight of the stuff.

It’s been what? Two, three months? Bloody hell people are creative. Brock snorted, though he was rather impressed by it all, in a morbid sort of way.

The general populace seemed relatively surprised by their appearance, though it seemed to be due to the car more so than anything else. A dozen glances were thrown their way wherever they drove, and eventually, Brock parked in a side street away from prying eyes and deposited his car in his spatial ring. He didn’t know how common his item was, but he thought it was for the best to hide it for now.

Hastily, the duo re-joined the masses, blending in easily.

His visible scars and all-around powerful vibe still earned him many glances, although with his stylish, basilisk scale leather jacket, white V-neck and black jeans, he was as normal as normal could be. The thongs were certainly a bit strange though. Unsurprisingly, Harry was given an utter tidal wave of stares by the locals.

The average around here seemed to be in the early to mid-twenties, and Brock fit right in, in that regard. Harry, on the other hand, did not. It looked to be quite the rare event to have someone in the middle of level 40 appear in town. No one approached him, or even so much as gave him trouble, but Brock could tell the kid was feeling uncomfortable with all the attention.

Reassuringly, he patted him on the shoulder.

Together, they walked through town, enjoying the subtle presence of normalcy the place afforded its inhabitants. Many people openly held their weapons, whether they were sheathed at their waists or strapped to their backs, and multiple people were wearing tactical armour and avidly surveying the area, but otherwise, it was an entirely normal place. Those latter individuals threw the pair their fair share of pointed glares.

‘Keep it tame’ was that they seemed to be trying to convey. They too were hitting the high thirties.

Wandering through the city, Brock couldn’t help but feel profoundly lost. The streets seemed like a conjoined labyrinth of various services, and he didn’t even know where to possibly begin to search for his mother, let alone a scryer, if one truly did exist. He had tried asking one of the pop-up shop vendors, but…

“That’ll be two hundred dollars.” That.

Putting aside the surprise he felt that people still used actual money, Brock didn’t have that kind of cash. Shards were clearly some sort of alternate currency, but when he had offered it the man behind the stall had scoffed. Apparently, there were only a few people that took Shards in the city, and they were the ones labelled as the crazy people.

In turn, it made Brock realise something. He was terribly powerful, yet most probably the brokest person in the entire city. He had not even a single cent to his name.

Sighing, the duo ended up sitting on a street corner, ignoring the idle chatter and cacophony of vendors advertising their wares aloud. They had strolled around for two hours already yet had found absolutely nothing. In fact, Brock had almost had his ring stolen by a street urchin. It was clear the kid was orphaned and just doing his best to survive and he had looked pretty guilty after he had been caught, so Brock just let him go. Of course, a sizeable portion of food and water had been placed in his small arms before he was let free.

In the end, it wasn’t his fault that he was forced to theft. It was the cruel machine high above.

To his side, Harry clicked his tongue, “So what now? How the hell are we supposed to find our mas if we can’t even find our way around? I’m getting hungry too.”

Brock heaved out a heavy breath, “Of fucking course you are. Anyways, I’m stumped with this place. Got no idea.”

Unanimously, they decided that looking for their mothers directly was a side quest to the main quest. Finding a scryer came first. As long as they could find one, they’d be able to locate both their parents and ease up their worries significantly. The only issue was if the scryer found nothing.

Or in other words, they found corpses.

Brock knew hearing that would undoubtedly break either one of them, and especially in the tumultuous times they were in now, that was the last thing they needed. The office worker felt his mood become somewhat morose, but luckily, someone tapped him on his shoulder and brought him from his thoughts.

“Excuse me? I hear you’re looking for information?”

Furrowing his brows, Brock twisted his head back over his shoulder and eyed the lanky man leaning over behind him. He was wearing a relatively shaggy hooded cloak, but Brock could see the frail features of a handsome face beneath. His frame somewhat lacked muscle, and the office worker could easily tell that he wasn’t specced toward Strength at all.

His voice had the barest tinge of a French accent to it, and the Australian found his voice to be oddly soothing despite the hoarseness of it. Harry spun around too, and while he looked curious, Brock could tell he didn’t hold much hope for the man. Mostly because he looked exactly like his mother’s overenthusiastic description of a kidnapper.

Nodding, Brock stood and faced him. He was about half a head shorter than him, though the man still took a step back, feeling inexplicably threatened by something commonly known as survival instincts, “Yeah, I guess. We can only pay you in Shards though.”

He hadn’t forgotten the word of the first vendor about Shard takers being the crazy ones, but he was willing to see where this went. It wasn’t like he was lacking in Shards either. In his time since the Tutorial ended, he had gathered a bit over a million of the strange crystalline-called currency. He was yet to find any reference on it, but he assumed that was a sizeable amount.

Harry quickly stood as well, and the man glanced between the two wearily, before donning a rather stiff smile, “That’s fine. It’s clearly the currency of the ‘new world’. What is it that you’re looking for?”

Brock blew some air between his lips and considered what to ask. Eventually, he settled on the obvious one, “A scryer? They search for people with magic or some shit? You know of any?”

“Ah yes, I know of one. She’s good at what she does, I’ve heard.” He spoke smoothly and with purpose, as though this was a sales pitch. It made Brock slightly suspicious.

A huge smile broke out on Harry’s face, and he shook Brock excitedly by the shoulder. It quickly faded, however, when he saw his friend was, in fact, not sharing his same elation. Instead, he narrowed his eyes at the cloaked man. Business always had a catch. And a price, “How much to know where she is?”

The Frenchman scratched his unkempt stubble and his smile widened ever so slightly, “fifty thousand Shards. A pretty low price for useful information such as that.”

Brock frowned. If fifty thousand was a ‘low’ price, he wondered how much the average person in Adelaide had gathered. Were they getting some limited-edition Shards or something? Begrudgingly, he nodded in acceptance and the cloaked man clapped his hands with glee.

“Just hold out your hand and will the amount currency to solidify.” He spoke a bit too eagerly.

Brock’s frown only served to widen in unhappiness. Was it that obvious that he was clueless about how to use his ‘money’? He didn’t like not having the advantage when doing business. But either way, he did as the man said and focused upon drawing from his pool of Shards and solidifying it in his palm, whatever that meant.

He was left pleasantly surprised, however, when a thick stream of pink-velvet energy was drawn to his pathways from an indeterminate location within his Inner Self. It flowed along his pathways, and just like he did with his Augment’s, Brock expelled the energy through the flesh of his palm, watching as a small maelstrom of pink energy formed and crystallised into a pebble-sized shard of pink crystal.

Just by looking at it, Brock could instinctively tell the exact amount of Shards it held; 50,000.

The man nodded in his direction approvingly, before swiftly reaching out and snatching the crystal from atop his palm. Before Brock could even open his mouth and ask for the agreed-upon information, the space surrounding the man shimmered and he simply popped out of existence, leaving the Australian and his teenaged companion staring into the air, dumbstruck.

Over to their left, a person snickered at them and kept walking.

“Did… we just get scammed?”

“…Yes, Harry. Yes, we did.”