Inner Rings of gacity III... Sector II
The dim, neon lights of the bar reflected off the sleek tallic walls, casting a blue and purple hue over the people seated around the circular table.
The sounds of hovering service drones buzzed in the background as they delivered drinks to tables scattered across the lounge. The city outside ca to life, the glow of hover cars and towering skyscrapers blending into a blur of colors through the expansive windows.
At one particular table, three middle-aged n sat laughing; each of them wore nice suits, but one could tell they weren't from these parts by how they acted.
Their drinks fizzed in their glass-like containers. Elric, a brown-haired, green-eyed man, leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his roughed-up hair as he smirked at the ongoing chat.
"I'm telling you," Elric said, swirling his drink with a flick of his wrist.
"If this keeps up, we're all going to die bachelors. Every single one of us."
His friend Lucas, a reddish-brown-haired, yellow-eyed man who was seated beside him, slapped the table, nearly knocking over his own drink as he roared with laughter.
"Speak for yourself! I'm still weighing my options, thank you very much."
He raised his glass, still laughing, the red wine casting a shimring reflection on his grinning face.
Quinton, a man with black hair and blue eyes, the third one in the group, took a long sip from his own drink, shaking his head.
"Options? You've been weighing those options for five years, man! At this rate, you'll be lucky if you get a bot to marry you."
"Though I hear the ones in gacity V are so advanced, it's really hard to tell the difference between them and the real deal."
"So what, you want to buy a wife now? Well, that sounds depressing," Elric said.
"Sha we're too poor to afford it."
The trio burst into laughter, their voices rising above the sounds of conversations around the bar.
"You know what? At least I'm not the one who got turned down by so edgy rcenary assassin," Lucas shot back, pointing at Elric with a mockingly accusing finger.
Elric leaned forward, grinning. "Hey, that assassin lady was an angel sent to from heaven. How was I supposed to resist perfection?"
Before anyone could respond, Quinton's laughter suddenly cut off. His face paled, his eyes widening as his hand instinctively covered his mouth.
"Oh no..."
Lucas blinked, confused. "Quinton? You alright?"
But Quinton was already scrambling to his feet, knocking over his chair in his haste. His expression was a loom of panic and nausea as he half-stumbled, half-ran toward the bathroom.
"Oh crap," Elric said, watching Quinton push past a couple near the entrance and disappear into the restroom.
Lucas glanced at Elric, stifling a laugh. "I knew he couldn't handle the Sizzle shots. Those things are practically banned for a reason."
"To be fair," Elric said, holding back a chuckle, "that drink is basically a chemical experint in a glass."
They exchanged a look before bursting into laughter again, the sound blending with the music in the bar.
"So this is where you little thieves have been hiding," a gruff voice called out, causing both of them to instantly stop laughing and look up to see the figure of a man looming over them with two bulky n by his side, both with chanical eyes.
For so reason, the sight of this man made them go pale, chills running down their spines.
...
Quinton stumbled into the restroom, rushing toward the sink as nausea overca him. He barely made it before he was doubled over, retching violently into the basin.
The harsh fluorescent lights above flickered slightly, illuminating the chaos of his panic. After a few agonizing monts, he straightened, breathing heavily. He turned on the tap, letting the cold water rush over the sink to rinse it out. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he muttered to himself,
"Damn, guess I had too much to drink."
Just as he was about to step out of the restroom, a sudden sharp pain shot through his head...
VIZZZ
Causing him to stagger back. Quinton's eyes widened, and he fell to his knees, his scream echoing off the sterile walls.
Images flashed through his mind like a chaotic slideshow-flickering mories, distorted visions of a world he didn't recognize, people, places, items, happy monts, sad ones, dragons, and symbols that felt ancient and powerful.
He gasped for breath, grappling with the overwhelming sensations.
'What the hell is all this?'
He wondered silently, his confusion only serving to increase his fear as he tried to piece together the whirlwind in his mind.
Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the pain subsided, leaving him breathless and panting on the floor.
Quinton blinked, trying to regain his bearings. The air of panic he had around him had simply disappeared; now he was strangely calm, too calm.
He stood up to face the mirror only to find that a section of his black hair had turned a vibrant blue, glimring under the harsh lights.
As he looked into the mirror, his eyes reflected gear-like symbols that had appeared in both irises, glowing faintly as they turned slowly, a tallic churning sound echoing in his mind.
Quinton stood in front of the mirror, taking a deep breath; he steadied himself and called out,
"Talent window."
In an instant, a holographic screen flickered into existence before him, displaying his status. However, his brow furrowed as he read the words glaring back at him.
Na: Quinton Roth
Age: 42
Talent: None
Talent Rank: N/A
Talent Info: No inherent talent identified.
Talent Rank Bonus: N/A
Strength: 492
Agility: 387
Intelligence: 501
Endurance: 425
Mana: 300
Dexterity: 290
Luck: 15
Total Combat Power: 2,410 (Rank F)
Special Abilitiest: None[]
'So I'm back to where I was at 42, aning there's just two years till the next descent.'
'What of the talent that he promised?'
"Seriously?" Quinton muttered, with an intense look of disappointnt as his eyes went
down his status window.
"All that, yet I didn't get the talent?"
"Damn it!"
But there was no ti to dwell on it. He had to continue with what else he had planned to use
in this scenario.
"Seems I'll have to follow his thod in the end."
"Gear-Forge..."
The air around him seed to crackle with blue mana as he felt a surge of power; his eyes
shone brightly, and for a mont, there was the faintest figure of blue gears hovering behind
him.
"Modify talent to 'Gear Mage," he said. As he did, a sharp pain shot through him again, and tears began to stream down his face, blood droplets dropping into the sink.
Talent Status Window:
Na: Quinton Roth
Age: 42
Talent: Gear Mage (Blessing)
Talent Rank: ?? (Talent rank not registered in the system)
Talent Info: Create a cosmic gear and force your will on reality. (At a cost)
Talent Rank Bonus: (Mastery over reality??%)
Strength: 492
Agility: 387
Intelligence: 501 Endurance: 425
Mana: 300
Dexterity: 290
Luck: 15 Total Combat Power: 2,410 (Rank F)
Special Abilitiest: Gear Forge.[]
[Hidden Talent: Obtained!]
[Special Perks: To Be Revealed]
Quinton's eyes widened, then he smiled slightly and said, "Open Administrator Module," he said, his curiosity piqued. A ssage flashed on the talent window as it went red.
[System Notice: Insufficient rights to open Administrator Module.]
Quinton hissed in frustration, the reality of the situation hitting him. "Of course," he scoffed bitterly, rubbing the back of his neck. "It was too much to hope for."
He took a mont to compose himself, shaking off the lingering sense of disappointnt.
Just then, the restroom door swung open with a loud crash, and Elric burst in, his face bruised
and bloodied, panic etched across.
"Quinton! We have to run!" he shouted, his voice raspy. Quinton spun around, shocked as he saw the state his friend was in.
"What the hell happened?!"
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