The man now called Warden had never been a morning person; on the contrary he had been the type of person who vehemently hated the concept of waking up early in the mornings. His usual policy had been to accept the burden of consciousness at seven A.M and then doze until at least nine if he lacked any disturbances. When he had moved out of his parents’ house then he had been able to sleep in later and later and he had taken advantage of that leeway moving his working hours late into the night while starting later in the morning. Even on his best days his thoughts were sluggish and his muscles were stiff in the earlier hours of the morning. However today on the contrary he felt none of that and as the memories of his last location flooded back into his mind, the lack of pain gave him a momentary panic attack.

“Where am I? Am I dead?” he said shooting up from his comfortable position lying on a thin mattress. His heart was racing a mile a minute and he there was cold sweat running down his whole body; however once again it seemed like he had survived certain death. His last thoughts were of desperately calling out for Choir as he felt his blood drain out and a deep lack of pain from about the shoulders down. His hand shot into his pocket feeling the cool of the Warden badge giving him a speck of reassurance in an ocean of uncertainty.

Suddenly he felt a spray of some liquid hit his face that smelt like cinnamon rolls and his body physically relaxed; all the stress bleeding out of him. He fell back into the mattress as his muscles relaxed, and he fought to keep his eyes open despite the pleasurable situation that beckoned him to relax.

“I’m afraid you’re not Mate,” a new voice that he hadn’t heard before diagnosed him. “That’s just a little calming tranquiliser I’ve got there. No need for a new panic attack, I haven’t even stuck you with the bill yet.” There was a teasing lilt to the new voice that was calming in its laxity as if there was nothing to worry about and nothing that couldn’t be solved

“Who are you?” Warden asked as he tried to sit up. After a few moments of struggling he did so and his eyes widened in shock and disbelief. For a flash it was like he was looking at his brother again, reborn before all the strife and pain; before the moment ended and he was looking at another different human. His newest acquaintance had black hair and pale white skin with green eyes that gave him a sickly look that lay upon unnaturally beautiful features; he was even better looking than Wendy and he didn’t even swing that way. He looked to be near the end of his teens and was wearing a white lab coat that made him look even paler.

“Who, me?” the man asked with a grin showing immaculately white teeth before he pulled out a sheaf of pages and placed them in Warden’s hands. To his side Warden saw Wendy approach looking cautiously at the man as if she was just waiting for an attack. There was a clear apprehension on the face of her as she did so as if that man made and her nervous and Warden felt himself wondering what could make somebody like Wendy feel worried.

“This is a C.V.,” Warden said slightly surprised looking at the neatly laid out stack of paper that he briefly flipped through before he turned back to the front page. “You didn’t put your name down.” That wasn’t a good start to an interview or an exam; it was the one thing that could completely ruin both your test paper and your teacher’s mood, he would know.

“There really isn’t a written form for my name, Buddy,” he admitted. “Plus you’ll probably hurt your throat in a doomed attempt to say my name. You can just call me Surge,” he said pointing a thumb at his chest. “I’m a surgeon by trade after all; it’s also the position I’m gunning for.”

“Okay, Surge,” Warden said reading slightly further. “Race is…Necromancer,” he whipped his eyes from sheet to look at the applicant who was nodding. “Wouldn’t that be Class in the first place?” he joked. “And is that like Death Magic or something.” Had he come across the alien version of a kid running around playing pretend?

“Necromancer,” Wendy said from her position and for the first time since he had met her there was real panic in her voice. Tilting his head slightly while keeping his attention still focused on the ‘Necromancer’ he saw her frozen in place with a look of shock as if she wasn’t sure how to proceed.

“Yes I am a Necromancer,” Surge said with an enigmatic smile. “Would you like for me to provide proof?”

“Please,” Warden requested politely focusing entirely on the man, waiting to see what extraordinary evidence he could bring forward to provide proof. While he would normally be more sceptical enough had changed in the past couple days that he felt it pointless to cling too tight to his scepticism.

“You just have to ask, Mate,” the Necromancer said with a friendly grin before the room froze as a crushing sense of inevitability brushed against his mind through the protection provided by the badge.

In a second the world howled in terror and the shadows distended lengthening into the shifting forms of hundreds of ghostly figures. Simultaneously bones began sprouting from the walls and floor and the ceiling until the room looked like an ancient primordial battlefield. The bones shifted around organically; squirming into the shape of dozen heads from unknown or unknowable species. The room temperature dropped and the sterile white light was replaced with a harsh blackness that twisted the Necromancer’s looks turning his handsome countenance into something horrifying and eldritch…

And then, as if nothing had happened, the world snapped back; the bones disappeared and the shadows receded leaving the new applicant standing there looking deceptively normal. The whole process had taken only three seconds and had left Warden’s heart rate increasing explosively as his back was covered with cold sweat.

“I believe you,” Warden said thanking the effects of the badge. The room was steel and light again and the interviewee was mere flesh and blood. Next to him Wendy looked genuinely shaken and unnerved; a fact that the doctor applicant seemed to pick up on.

“Would you like some more for your nerves,” Surge said extracting a brown bottle from his lab coat.

“I’m good,” Wendy stated immediately. “Please just, please just stay there.”

“If that’s what you want,” the man said casually putting it back in his pockets.

“So that was your magic,” Warden said, getting a firm shake of his head. “Magic exists apparently.” On one day he learns that there are aliens and the next he learns that aliens use magic. His suspension of disbelief was just about shattered at this point anyway. Aliens, magic, Necromancers; what else could surprise him at this point.

“It wasn’t, and yes it does, respectively,” Surge stated waving his hand. “Magic does exist but it’s mainly a way for the weak to grow powerful. Necromancers are already strong in the first place so there’s no pressing need for us to learn magic and so as a result many of us don’t.”

“Could I learn it,” Warden asked, trying to hide his eagerness. He had contemplated modifying his body somewhat but if there was actual magic to be learnt then he would definitely jump at that. If it was just a matter of saying a few words then he would start immediately; but he had a feeling it was more complex than that. Otherwise there would be ample proof of magic in his own world; somebody would have said a few words and then found that it set something alight.

“If you had a mana core sure,” Surge stated. “You don’t currently but there are ways around that. I could perform a bit of surgery if you want. So do I get the job?” he continued eagerly.

“Considering the fact that I’m not permanently crippled I think you’re more than qualified,” Warden stated taking a brief inspection of his body as he finally stood up from the mattress and finding nothing wrong with it; a shocking situation considering he was certain he was paralysed by the end there. “We are a bit short of both staff and prisoners so we might have to have you fill in different positions at the moment.”

“That’s fine, Pal,” Surge stated waving off his statements with a dangerous grin. “I’ve done my share of odd-jobs and there are few jobs odder than working at the renowned Coldreach. I’m in,” he said raising his hands in an expression of joy before they were returned to his coat.

“I’ve placed the prisoner back in the cells,” Wendy said taking the opportunity to whisper in his ear. “The Necromancer fixed his injuries as well and I placed him in the Medium-Security Ward. Choir also wanted to talk to you when you were up.”

“Choir can wait for now,” Warden stated. While there was definitely more to fix he couldn’t ignore how close to death he had come in their last outing. “Hey Surge,” he stated interrupting his colleagues celebrations. “You said you can implant a mana core.”

“I can if you want me to,” Surge nodded. “You have zero mana capacity at the moment so we would have to implant one if you wanted to learn any magic. Oh that reminds me,” he said snapping his fingers. “When I routed around in there I noticed the badge had implanted a basic Personal Administrative within your body. Think of a programme built around the development of your Path and quantifying any personal strength and miscellaneous abilities. It hasn’t been activated yet; it looks like that function was deliberately supressed.”

“I’m not sure I get it,” Warden said, trying not to think of the implications; he would really have to have a conversation with Choir in the future. “How does it help develop my abilities?”

“Maybe it would be better to show and not tell you,” Surge stated. “Do I have permission to activate the installed System?”

“Will it do me any harm?” Warden asked seriously deciding to trust the words of the strange necromancer.

“Some pain might be expected,” Surge explained. “While I’m here you won’t die,” he said with such confidence as can be expected from a literal Necromancer.

“Then do it,” Warden stated after a few short moments of contemplation. It couldn’t be worse than having his back shredded by an alien insect.

“Okay then,” Surge stated snapping his fingers and a weird shift hit him as the world turned purple. There was a minor throbbing pain in his head before a string of code downloaded directly into his brain and an image burned itself into his mind.

Reginald Strauss

Warden of Coldreach

Race: Human

Species Rank: 1

Combat Strength: 4

Affinity

Psi-0.5

Mag-N/A

Chi-N/A

Current Stats

Normal Strength: 15%000lbs

Max Speed: 196 mph

Total Energy: 19$%^0 cAl

Intelligence: 1##Q

Endurance:2#*4%

Charisma: [email protected]&h)(

Current Skills Mastery:

None

Implanted Augments:

None

Current Benefits: Angel Blessing (5/200) duration remaining 2 hours.

Current Curses: None

The image flickered as it started to reorganize rapidly. Strength changed to a 3, Speed to a 4, Energy changed to Vitality and became a one, Intelligence a ten, Endurance to a 2 and Charisma fluctuated between Presence and Authority before it settled on Will and jumped to a relatively high number of 20 before the whole thing rebooted and started flickering.

“It’s jumping up and down,” Warden stated watching as the numbers started to slowly stabilised.

“It tends to do that I’m told,” Surge stated. “You should probably just switch it off for now. It has to calibrate to your brain and body. Furthermore every species and individual is different to some extent. Ask me to check on it later and I’ll finish up the compiling process manually.”

“How do I do that?” Warden asked as he commanded it to turn off, then thought the word ‘off’ then lastly imagined it turning off. The last one seemed most effective. “Never mind I have it.”

Did you see if you have any Psionics, Magic, and Chi before it shut down?” the Necromancer asked looking quite interested at the results.

“0.5 For Psi,” Warden stated. “Not a very high score though.”

“Infinitely more valuable than nothing though,” Surge said; his statement was technically correct but not very helpful. “Psionics, Magic and Chi are known as the Three Wide Paths and the majority of races use some variant of those three if they wish to grow more individually powerful.”

“But you don’t,” Warden stated/asked looking at the man in front of him. “Because you’re not weak.”

“Necromancers tend to get stronger as we grow in age,” Surge admitted. “I suppose I could pick up one of the Paths to learn and it might help but it would cut out time from my medical studies. I know a Necromancer who’s a dab hand at the magical arts, but Chi is a bit difficult for us.”

“Could I perhaps learn one of the Paths?” Wendy asked and Warden noticed that there was still fear when she spoke to the Necromancer, but she was deliberately keeping it under control. She seemed just as eager as him to gain strength, a good attitude for his new bodyguard.

“Maybe,” Surge said. “I don’t have a Personal Administrative on me but I should be able to give you a check-up later and see if you have any potential in one of the paths. We really should have this discussion in private later.”

“Perhaps that check-up should be postponed until you have returned,” the voice of the red owl rang through the empty room. “There is still much to do.”

“Oh is that another one of my colleagues,” Surge said eagerly. “Should we go meet him boss?”

“Wait before we go,” Warden said stopping the excitable Necromancer; Choir could damn well wait after what he put him through. “Do you have any idea of how to awaken Psionic Powers?”

“Oh yeah, I do,” Surge said reaching into his lab coat and pulling out a pack of what looked like cigarettes. “These are Psionic Enhancers; good for an initial boost. Light them up for a bit and try to feel out your Psionics. If you want a stronger permanent boost we can do something more drastic later.”

“Thanks,” Warden said taking the pack and sliding out a cigarette wrapped in what looked like purple paper. The whole thing smelt quite strongly but there was nothing that he could compare it to. “Got a light?” he asked as he put the smoke in his mouth.

“Here,” Wendy said before Surge could say anything as she handed him a silver tube. “I found it a while ago but I never had a use for it.”

“Thanks,” Warden said as he cupped his hands together and lit up. As soon as the thing started to burn he felt a cool prickly feeling enter his mouth and nose before his skin started to tingle. The colours of the world went a bit sharper and for a few seconds the whole world smelt of blue and tasted of Jazz.

“Synaesthesia,” he touched the words that Surge said smelling the face of the necromancer looking at him with interest. “Good news, you seem to be rather talented at Psionics. Remember the body is merely a meat suit which your brain uses to move around. Your senses are a lie. Above all your fleshy extras; the consciousness exists and your consciousness contains the root muscle when using Psionics.” He was acting calmly but on the other hand his secretary wasn’t taking the process anywhere near as easy.

“Are you okay, Sir,” Wendy spoke shooting the Necromancer a dirty look as she approached preventing him from falling over and he realised to some alarm that he had been swaying for a while now. “What did you give to him?” she asked the Necromancer and Warden could see the fury in her words.

“I told you I gave him a Psionic Enhancer,” Surge said cheerfully despite the situation. “For the first time in his life muscles in his consciousness that had been born atrophied have been forcibly wakened. The brain frantically rewiring itself is a sign that it’s working.” His voice took on a note of regret. “Honestly if I knew the reaction would be this strong I would have tried to study this process.”

“How much longer?” Warden asked calmly despite the world shaking around him. It was physically impossible for him to feel angry at the moment. His emotions felt dampened as if he was suddenly disconnected from his body and he intuitively grasped the meaning behind Surge’s words. Sparks of bioelectricity, folds of grey matter and armies of neurons were all that he was and yet in combination he became something more; some divine singularity that was HIM sprung from the messy chaos. Some nascent egg of consciousness trapped within a prison of flesh which only now developed the first slight crack.

However even as he asked this question and as he gained this awareness he felt his mental image falter as his senses realigned and his consciousness slipped back inside the unbroken egg once more. The process of becoming lesser was no less fascinating than his ascension and he observed without speaking as that spark of realization that was HIM dimmed until it became a mere ember trapped within an ovum. It sat in the centre of his brain, but the feel of that trapped potentiality never faded even as he poked and prodded against it.

“About thirty two seconds,” Surge stated nonchalantly. “How do you feel now? Want anything to eat.” He pulled out a tube from one of his pockets. “Nutri-gel; very healthy and filling. I gave some to you when I fixed your body and you had no serious adverse effects.”

“So that’s why I’m not hungry,” Warden stated. To his knowledge he hadn’t eaten in at least a day so it should be odd that he as experiencing no hunger pains. “No, I’m fine,” he said licking his fingers before snuffing out the cigarette. “This isn’t full of tar or nicotine is it?” he asked.

“I’m a doctor,” Surge said, genuinely confused. “Why the hell would I put those inside a Psionic Enhancer?”

“No reason, no reason,” Warden stated. For a moment he had the strange thought that his parents would have killed him if they saw him smoking before the reality of the situation dragged out a dry chuckle. “We should probably go see Choir now, let’s not leave him waiting too long.” He took another glance at the Psionic Enhancer. “How many more of those do you have?”

“Two packs before I have to resupply boss,” Surge said cheerfully. “They’re not the cheapest consumable,” he admitted as he pulled out a pack and handed it over to Warden. “But I can do the manufacturing in my spare time. Just let me check the inventory in Medical before I create a list of things I need.”

“I will do; and I need to get a new coat as well,” Warden stated mournfully as he looked at the shredded remains of his last gift from his family that had barely lasted more than a day. “Maybe I can get another in white this time, that’s always been more of my colour?”

“Some more spices?” Wendy asked causing him to blanch slightly. He remembered her cooking and he didn’t think he could survive another dose. Maybe with a doctor here…

“Let’s go check on the status of the prison before we start planning,” Warden stated trying to return to the topic that he had derailed himself. “I’m afraid I don’t know which room we’re in. Could you lead us to Choir, Wendy?”

“It would be my pleasure, Sir,” Wendy said adopting a look of determination.

“I can’t wait to meet this enigmatic Choir,” Surge stated looking overjoyed. “I’m glad my visit to Coldreach is paying off.”