Once again, Brock found himself floating in the realm of colour and sensation, although this time, it appeared far more comprehensible than before. Each string of hue meant something in the grand tapestry of truth and each sensation held a hidden purpose of the universe. Dozens of Augments flowed around him every second, though he didn’t dare reach out for them.

Somehow, he knew. They weren’t meant for him.

Unlike last time, however, among the reds, greens, blues and every other colour of the rainbow, there was black. Or at least something close to it. It was almost a deep navy, so dark it could pass off as the tint of night. The energies around it bent and flexed out of its way desperately. Those that failed to were consumed, forcefully removed from the realm. Fortunately, more of the same soon came to replace them.

Just by glancing at it, Brock felt his mind on the brink of overheating as he tried to comprehend it. Even with his sizeable Intelligence, it still looked to be so far out of his reach. And the whispers. Each second longer he stared, they got louder, begging him for freedom, to achieve salvation. To tear it all down and let it run rampant.

…It?

Within his chest, he felt his Ascendancy beat with sympathy, yet it held steadfast in front of the dark temptations, and Brock did too. He had no idea what that corruption was, but either way, he wanted no part of it. He left it to fester against the continued onslaught of the energies around him as they tried to expel it from their realm.

…LET ME OUT…

Brock gave it the metaphysical middle finger.

Instead, he turned away from the intruder and glanced at his nude body as thick droplets of blackened goo oozed from his pores and were blown away by the currents of power around him. Idly, he noticed that he reeked of fat and sweat and blood, yet with each second of the disgusting event passing by, he felt his body become better and stronger.

Not just Stat wise, but just in the base functionality of it all. Like a rebuilt PC with all the same parts as its predecessor, except they were newer. It was hard to explain. Like his body was being refined to a better state of the same.

He only heard the whispers once more before they finally faded, and he sighed in relief. He had a strong feeling that they related to the Beyond, just by the familiar iciness of the energy he felt, but he held some doubt. Those beasts he had seen had seemed unintelligent, like… well… mindless beasts, driven only by their savage hunger. They didn’t seem capable of thought.

Maybe he was wrong.

He wasn’t given any more time to deliberate on it as he felt his time in the realm coming to an end. His body expelled the final flood of black ooze as the multi-coloured walls began to bleed away and plunge him into darkness once more. Fortunately, it wasn’t the true dark, and Brock only needed to open his eyelids. He savoured how groggy they felt, like he had just slept for half a day.

Brock felt better than he ever had before. His skin felt smooth and glowing, his joints felt oiled up, and his muscles had lost that idle ache of fatigue they had owned for months. Even his senses felt sharper, his eyesight crisper and more vibrant and his smell picked up even the barest hints of the sparsely used lavender scent in the room.

“Bloody hell…”

It was incredible.

Unfortunately, that was where the incredibility ended. Contrary to the sight he had witnessed in the strange realm, the gunk he expelled hadn’t been blown away or removed. Instead, it was now clinging to Brock’s flesh like a sickly carapace. Some parts had already hardened like a cocoon of filth while other areas were still slopping wet with the stuff.

Absentmindedly, as he tried to wipe himself of the gunk to no avail, he noticed that the energy in the air was far sparser than it had been prior. It was only a slight connection, but it reminded him of the time he was fighting Ur’Khan’s pack, when the werewolf was absorbing all the energy in the atmosphere. Had he been boosting his race somehow too?

Whether he had been or not, Brock stifled a tear and turned on the shower, sparing no effort as he tore the cap off the soap and poured it over him. The man was just glad he chose to take the Treasure in the bathroom in his excitement rather than the bed. What would he have told Adam? He had runny bowels?

He certainly would have felt bad for whoever would have needed to clean it, that’s for sure.

In the end, after an avid half hour of scrubbing, the gunk was removed, and his hair was once more silky and hanging down to frame his face. Brock dried himself off and didn’t even bother to try to remove the globule of his gunk that was blocking the shower drain. He wasn’t touching that shit with a ten-foot pole, especially after he knew what it was like to have it on him.

And the scent. He gagged. Absolutely revolting.

Idly, Brock looked at himself in the mirror once more, noticing his skin truly did look radiant in complexion, and that his plethora of scars had even reduced in prominence, with some already having disappeared. Currently, he looked like a grizzled warrior. The handsome kind.

Even the blue of his eyes looked more vibrant, positively glowing in his gaze.

As he walked out of the bathroom and threw the towel out the open window, Brock jumped and crashed down into the plush mattress he’d been given, savouring the feel of fine fabrics against his skin. This was the life. No monsters, no worries, no nothing. Just him chilling in the nude. All he needed now was a tv and maybe a gambling app on his phone, and life would have peaked.

There was a tv on the wall, but cable and streaming didn’t work on it, for obvious reasons. Eventually, Brock decided to save the relaxation for a time where other people weren’t depending on him and got himself dressed in his newly gifted attire.

The leather jacket was a perfect fit, something that made Brock narrow his eyes, but it was truly a fine piece of clothing. Flexible and sturdy, with shock-absorbing pads on his shoulders and left elbow sleeve, in case he needed to roll out the way. Considering the amount of thoughtfulness, and private tailoring they seemed to have done with the jacket, he had to admit he was impressed.

A pair of what appeared to be a somewhat closer fitting form of black tracksuit pants adorned his lower half, and Brock forewent the supplied socks and instead just donned the midnight steel-capped boots he had been granted. Like the jacket, they fit all too well, but God were they comfortable.

Just like how it had been with his first leather apparel, his right sleeve hung limply from the elbow down, for clear reasons. Either way, he didn’t care and moved back to the mirror in the bathroom. He had never seen a better looking him. Say what you wanted about Genesis and its leadership, but they certainly knew style when they saw it.

Begrudgingly, Brock accepted the items and lied back down on his bed. Idly, he detected the auras of several dozen people in the building as his aura senses stretched out to its maximum length, finding people even a few streets over.

Excitedly, albeit with some grimness, he finally decided he had waited long enough, and Brock opened his status.

Status.

Brock Carter.

Race: Human [F] LVL 50

Ascendancy: Fetters of the Bound [F]

Level: 38

[Stats]

Strength: 193.75 [+25%][Base: 155]

Agility: 502.5 [+25%][Base: 402]

Dexterity: 170 [+25%][Base: 136]

Constitution: 177.5 [+25%][Base: 142]

Vitality: 238.75 [+25%][Base: 191]

Intelligence: 566.8 [+30%][Base: 436]

Wisdom: 420 [+25%][Base: 336]

[Augments] - Augment of Sparks (58.94%), Augment of Skies (45.38%).

[Techniques] - Ethereal Shackles II [F] (44.98%), Oppressive Might [F] (63.77%).

[Titles] - At The Precipice II, Agent of Chaos, Blessed, Destined for Greatness, Underdog, Hidden Fangs, Leader of the Pack, Login Bonus, Opportunist, Enlightened, Mass Murderer, Needless Slaughter, Masochist, Trophy Hunter (Unique), Budding Power, Brainiac, Attuned, Embodiment of Freedom, False Life.

Free Stats: 66

Shards: 2,787,142

Stars of Ascension: 15

“…uh…”

Brock wasn’t quite sure how to respond as he looked over his newly updated status screen. In fact, he just lay there dumbstruck. If he wasn’t mistaken, the Treasure alone had afforded him 20 levels in his race… then there was the sheer number of levels he had received while fighting the Skin Walker horde.

11 levels might not seem like a lot, but to Brock, who levelled at a snail’s pace, it was a gargantuan amount. Its worth in Stats was an astounding 275, if you discounted the bonuses from his Titles.

Aside from that, his Techniques and Augments had seen some considerable growth, and as he had felt earlier, his Augment of Sparks was on the precipice of a breakthrough into the next threshold. His two Techniques were well on their way to reaching their own thresholds, and he pondered on whether it’d be a good idea to forgo his Augments for a while and focus on upgrading them.

It was something to consider later, perhaps.

Experimentally, Brock waved his arm around in the air, feeling the newfound power within each movement. And, as he sped those movements up, he kicked up a storm of wind, his appendage easily moving at speeds exceeding 100 kilometres per hour. Brock’s eyes climbed up his forehead in disbelief.

He did notice, however, that when he tried to slow down or change the direction his arm moved, the response came half a second later. It seemed that Brock’s initial fears about Harry’s Stats had come into play for his own. He now appeared to have a maximum speed faster than what his nerves could safely control.

The easy fix to that was dumping his free stats into Dexterity, since that seemed to dictate both senses and reactions, though he wondered if there was some better method. Either way, he didn’t have one on hand, so it was with great reluctance that he dumped all 66 of his spare points into Dexterity, instead of Constitution like he had been planning to.

The wounds he had obtained had healed significantly upon the boost to his race, though the sting was still there, and they looked just as grisly. He would have liked to avoid it happening again if possible.

Instantly, he felt electricity tingle through every nerve in his body from the substantial change and his muscles twitched. Brock’s senses became far clearer, and he felt overwhelmed by the sheer effect those 66 stats had on him. His left hand had always felt a little clumsy, even after he had gotten used to it, but now, it felt almost as good as his right hand had felt before he’d lost it.

With that out of the way, and his Dexterity now sitting at 252.5 – just barely above halfway of his Agility, Brock briefly thought about perusing his Aetherweb, but ultimately discarded the thought. While the options and effects it offered certainly were useful, they weren’t vital to his performance. Not yet at least. He thought it was better to wait until he had accumulated some Stars of Ascension and blow them on a pricier option.

All that was left now was to address the glaring issue Brock had found in his team; Fon. Compared to Harry, and even him, who was closing in on Stats nearing level 100, she was lacking severely. The last time he’d checked, which had been at the hospital, she was only level 23, in contrast to the monsters they often fought, cresting past the 40s and 50s.

He understood that her main role was meant to be an archer and long-ranged support, but even then, the Stats mattered, as shown in their latest outing. She was almost useless in close quarters combat, and it wasn’t just because she lacked a melee weapon.

And with what Brock was considering doing after the events he had witnessed, he knew her capability as a combatant would come in handy more than ever, especially since the Skin Walkers seemed to be far more unpredictable than usual monsters.

Hell, she didn’t even have an Augment. Fortunately, Brock owned one that he thought would fit well with her archery. He just wondered if he’d be able to teach it. He’d seemed to have learnt it by direct experience, but he hoped there was some other way to impart an Augment. He didn’t think Fon would survive the ‘impartment’ otherwise.

In the end, all of this pointed to three things he needed to get done urgently; level Fon up, get her a melee weapon, and get her an Augment. The first and last were perhaps the things that would have the biggest effect, but still, he thought all three were paramount to her continued survival. He wouldn’t be there to save her forever.

Running a hand through his refreshingly soft hair, Brock heaved out a sigh and reached for his phone. He didn’t want to, but it seemed he needed to make a phone call. Again.