Silver Lining

  Cyril's eyelids fluttered open, his vision blurred and swimming with pale, sterile light. The faint beeping of a heart monitor punctuated the oppressive silence, accompanied by the low hum of fluorescent bulbs overhead. He blinked, slowly piecing together the sterile white walls, the stiff hospital bed beneath him, and the IV line snaking into his arm.

  This...is...!!

  His body stiffened reflexively, a cold sensation gripping at his heart. Fear itself had forced him upright before he could even take stock of himself. His chest heaved and panted irregularly, denying him the right to think straight for a good five minutes or so, but after a while he began to register the bullish drumming of his heart and the icky feeling of cold sweat sticking to his skin.

  “Haahhh...”

  The sigh sounded both apprehensive and relieved. He himself didn’t know which one he was actually feeling, still, he much preferred that over the subsiding terror fading off his chest.

  “Woah! M-My body!”

  The second that thought came to mind he tugged at the milky white covers and flung them to the side, half expecting to despair at what he was about to see. However, the actual outcome left him looking stunned. After ripping his shirt open and performing a frantic body check, his mind drifted to a slow conclusion.

  “They’re...still here. My arm, my leg, everything's here...what’s going on? Was that all a dream?” he worded dubiously to himself, scratching his head with a slight frown. This time the itch hadn’t been so much physical; it was more like a cognitive bug—the hardest kind to shake off.

  “Mhhmm...”

  The familiar sound of that sleepy groan commanded his attention somewhat involuntarily; thus, he responded with a careful turn of his head. He hadn’t realized it because of his initial shock from earlier, but there was someone awkwardly slumped over the edge of his bed. It was someone he recognized—A young woman in her late twenties. Her auburn hair that was usually rolled into a neat set of curls was disheveled at the moment, probably because she’d been resting at his bedside for quite some time.

  Something bitter pooled in his chest upon seeing her face like that. The sleep wrinkles under her eyes and the slightly red tip of her nose were clear signs of how she’d spent most of her time there.

  Forcing a smile, he gently tucked away a few strands of loose hair behind her ear.

  “Sorry for worrying you again....”

  [Notice. Recalibration of the host body is now complete. The assimilation process can begin at the host’s discretion.]

  “Eh?”

  Cyril froze; his bandaged arm quivering slightly in the air. Unsure of what he heard, he stared at Carissa’s sleeping face in disbelief, only for his suspicions to once again be proven wrong.

  [Alert. All calibrations have been completed. The individual Cyril Severin is hereby officially recognized as the primary host of the specified realm factor. Assimilation has begun and will progress at the discretion of the main system due to the presence of unforeseen errors. The errors have been accounted for and are deemed a non-factor to the overall procedure.]

  The voice faded again, but this time he was sure of it. Cyril carefully turned his head from side to side and rubbed his eyes, half-hoping that he was under some kind of strange anesthetic side effects in spite of the lingering echo in his mind. As doubtful as he was, he could feel it in his gut. Something had changed about his body—about him as a whole.

  “Heh-Heh-Heh...I must be going crazy...” He mustered a dry laugh, slapping a palm to his forehead in mock amusement. When that didn’t work, he ultimately relented and gave in to the incessant pleas of his intrusive thoughts.

  “Hopefully you won’t hear any of this.” Cyril added sheepishly.

  Now that he was about to commit to the absurd idea, it was all the more embarrassing for him to go through with it thanks to Carissa being at his side. Granted, she was sleeping but he didn’t want to risk her waking up to see him mumbling to himself and looking like an idiot.

  It certainly wouldn’t bode well considering his condition, there were already enough bandages wrapped around his head.

  Let’s get this over with...

  “U-um hello? Is someone there?”

  He wanted nothing more than to take those words back the instant they left his lips, however, the gesture had already been received and reciprocated by then.

  [Acknowledgement received. I am the main system in charge of facilitating your assimilation of the specified realm factor. I do not have a general name; however, my designated function has been abbreviated as an acronym for the sake of efficiency— Advanced Regulation and Invocation Assistant—otherwise known as A.R.I.A.]

  “......”

  He wasn’t actually expecting that to work. Addressing the strange voice out loud was merely a way to ease his own suspicions. Fortunately, his concerns turned out to be justified.

  “Wait, wait, wait. Just hold on. Realm factor? System? I'm not keeping up with any of this—I still can’t even believe I’m talking to some strange voice in my head!” Cyril’s shriek rang in two dimensions —both internally and externally.

  [Acknowledged. What exactly do you need clarified?] The voice came again, still sounding monotone and devoid of any emotion.

  Cyril gave a few gentle jolts to his cranium and nodded to himself at the end, seeming as if he was sure of something.

  “Everything. As much as you can share since I'm clearly not dreaming.” He replied with a heavy breath.

  [Confirmed. To begin, a realm factor is an acausal element imbued with a superior form of will stemming from outside the cosmos. It is able to bond to the soul of any host deemed worthy and can grant them the power to affect physical laws.]

  “A superior form of will? That sounds even more confusing you know. Besides I’m pretty sure I haven’t met any higher dimensional—wait! Are you talking about the ‘operator’ I met in the labyrinth?”

  Bitter memories came flashing back, flooding his body with a woeful mood but now wasn’t the time to wallow over the unfairness of that situation.

  He needed answers.

  [The operator is an emanation of the superior will mentioned. Meaning, it is not outside the bounds of your dimensions and is simply a judge meant to test the quality of hosts that partake in the trial.]

  “Trial?” gritting his teeth, Cyril repeated the word balefully. “You call that a trial? Luring people into a dark room and then massacring them all for no reason. What the hell? What kind of trial is that?”

  His mattress sank from the sudden shift in Carissa’s position. It drew his attention back to her but thankfully, she wasn’t awake yet.

  [Understood. Allow me to clarify the facts and sate the hosts confusion. First, the trial was meant to select a body that was capable of withstanding the power of a realm factor. Anyone who was even slightly affected by the operator’s skills was unfit to serve as a host and would have died immediately had they tried to contain it. Thus, all who endeavored to participate were given a warning beforehand.]

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “A warning...” Cyril scrunched his eyes in deep thought after hearing that. He wasn’t sure about trusting the emotionless exposition being poured into his mind, but Aria’s words did have some truth to them. He did in fact remember seeing something like that before they entered the Phantom room.

  “What was it again? Ah, yes. ‘Destiny begets fate’ or something like that.”

  [Affirmative. That was the deterrent. Secondly, A.R.I.A had no part in the proceedings of the trial. I have regained autonomy and resurfaced after successfully bonding to the host.]

  “I see, so that's what it was. A little more transparency would've been nice...” He answered calmly, drowning a bit of his shame. "The voice I heard during the trial—I'm guessing that wasn't yours, right?"

  [The host is correct. That announcement was generated by the operator, using manites as a conduit to produce and transmit low-frequency oscillations—a method for locating a suitable host. Those who could hear its instructions were deemed qualified, as their ability to do so indicated possession of a skill inherent to those regarded as ‘saints.’]

  All of what was being telepathically said was leaving him with more questions than answers, but above all, that last sentence—that last word in particular, took priority over everything else.

  “Wait. A saint? Are you saying the operator was looking for a saint to act as a host?”

  [Correct, that is the conclusion I have drawn. Based on my interpretation of your memories, ‘Saints’ are individuals who surpass conventional deviant abilities due to their unusually high Cognitive Affinity Indexes, which increases their mana output and allow them to harness powerful skills that require greater mana concentrations. One such skill—[Mobius]—is shared among all Saints and grants them an enhanced level of perception. Considering these factors, a Saint would be the most suitable candidate to serve as the host for a Realm Factor.]

  “My memories?” Cyril, still stumped, muttered the words incredulously.

  That was the strangest thing he heard all day. Naturally, he was itching to pose the prominent question to the strange voice in his head but the words just weren’t falling into place for some reason.

  So, in light of that, he decided to pivot onto a different topic for now.

  “Aria...” Cyril said, beginning with a sigh

  “I think there’s been some kind of misunderstanding. I’m not a saint, and I don’t have any skills whatsoever. For vanguard type deviants, skills are basically our ace in the hole, but acquiring them is mostly a matter of chance. Higher-ranked deviants are more likely to awaken with powerful skills, and the only other way to obtain one is by absorbing it from the manadite core of a powerful monster—and I’ve done neither. I’m a D-rank, the lowest evaluation a deviant can receive after awakening their powers. If that’s the criteria you were working with, then there’s no way I qualify as a suitable host."

  There was no hint of shame in his tone—or at least, he didn’t think there was any. It felt more like a sense of grounding—the brutal reality of having reached one's limits and being forced to accept them.

  For a second, the room went silent. Not even thoughts—his own or the intruders—had any input to offer. Seconds woefully ticked by, allowing the sterile room to be filled by the whooshing sounds of the air conditioner’s updraft.

  [Assessment complete. The host has made another false evaluation.]

  “What? A false evaluation?”

  [Allow me to explain. Several anomalies were detected during the host's initial recalibration, which partially hindered the process until they could be addressed. Once recalibration was complete, these anomalies were thoroughly assessed and analyzed. It has now been conclusively determined that they are your inherent skills: [Life Surge] and [Counter Stop]. The passive effect of your [Counter Stop] skill was interfering with the recalibration, resisting the process and causing further strain on your weakened state. As a result, the skill was suppressed to prevent additional disruption. Ensuring your stability took precedence, which led to a significant reduction in the efficiency of your inherent abilities under those conditions.]

  The telepathic words made Cyril’s ears perk—half from interest, half from disbelief.

  “Skills...wait you mean...”

  [Correct. The host possessed his own set of unique and extra skills even before the recalibration. Would you like to see the complete arsenal currently at your disposal?”]

  Aria’s answer stunned him into shock. Eyes wide and quivering, the only thing Cyril could do at this point was absentmindedly mumble the word “Yes.”

  Confirmed. This is currently your complete arsenal:

  Unique Skills: [Juggernaut] [Counter Stop] [Life surge]

  Extra Skills: [Mobius]

  [Scenarios Completed: 0/8]

  The screen that suddenly appeared in front of him wasn’t doing much in terms of quelling his confusion. Swept away by the moment, he gave a quick glance around the room to make sure no one else was there besides the sleeping Carissa.

  Then, tried to interact with it, but nothing happened.

  “...I figured.” Cyril grumbled, masking a weary chuckle. “I must look like an idiot right now. Well, I’ve already come this far so I guess there’s no harm in it. Aria, can you explain this—all of it. I’m not sure what I'm supposed to take away from it.”

  [Understood. Your body has been attuned to harness the power of a realm factor through your unique skill, [Juggernaut], granting you the ability of augmentation. Although the realm factor has yet to fully synchronize with its host, its interaction with your will has already begun to shape its form. By analyzing the battle data encoded within your memories, I have developed a comprehensive understanding of your combat style. Accordingly, I have tailored the realm factor’s power into a personalized skill that complements your preferred method of combat—hence, the creation of [Juggernaut]. ]

  There it was again, a crucial piece of information neatly tucked away behind a barrage of what he assumed to be mostly irrelevant details.

  This time, Cyril refused to let it slide.

  “You can read my memories?” He forced that question through a crooked smile, struggling to mask the small tremors in his voice.

  [That is correct. Essential information about your environment and combat style was referenced during the recalibration process. However, it cannot be done unless the host is unconscious because of factors like mental interference.]

  Oh, thank god. Grinning to himself, Cyril clenched a small fist out of habit. Then, another cruel thought struck him like a thunderbolt.

  “Aria, can you perhaps.... read my thoughts too?”

  [Unfortunately, that is not possible unless the host wishes for it.]

  Her robotic reply somehow sounded sincere, but unlike his telepathic counterpart Cyril was ecstatic about the news. Once he collected himself, he shrugged off the giddiness and slipped back into his normal persona.

  “So basically, the operator decided I was a suitable host for this realm factor thing and gave me some kind of super amazing power, and you’re the assistant that’s supposed to teach me how to use this power?”

  [Affirmative. The host is correct. In human terms, I am what you would call a ‘tutorial’.]

  “You said something about the realm factor bonding to the host’s soul earlier, so I suppose we’re stuck like this, aren’t we?”

  [Precisely. The host is correct.]

  Cyril had been intentionally suppressing his hope, but hearing Aria’s confirmation did nothing to lessen the emotional blow. Surprisingly, it didn’t take him long to accept that as a fact. All he needed to do was take a moment to shake his head a few times and groan out the disappointment.

  “Well, I guess it can't be helped. If I have to stick with you for now then so be it, I’m still a little giddy from waking up with all my limbs intact and all but strangely enough I don’t mind it. However...”

  Even though he wasn’t looking at anyone, Cyril still paused to sharpen his eyes at the monotone sounding voice in his head.

  [....?]

  “....I have a condition. If you’re going to be freeloading inside my head then at least use my name and stop referring to me as a ‘host’. Formal titles like that don’t really sit well with me.”

  [Acknowledged. From here on, I will refer to you by the name Cyril.]

  The thought earned a giggle from him, one fuzzy enough to sap his strength and send him sprawling back onto the squeaky hospital bed. “I can’t believe I’m laying down rules for a voice in my head. Ah that reminds me, Aria you mentioned something about recalibratio-”

  “Cyril, who’s Aria?”

  All at once a strange tension filled his body. Still lying on his back, he nervously shifted his head to glance up at Carissa’s spooked expression. Her corrected posture only served to emphasize the frightful look on her face.

  “Ca-Carissa....”

  Cyril desperately wanted to offer some kind of explanation but the incessant nervous twitches plaguing his expression combined with his gaping mouth kept the words from forming. Quickly reaching her limit, Carissa hastily stood up in a panic.

  “H-He’s talking to himself… D-Don’t tell me he suffered some kind of brain damage too… Aaagh!! I promised Alice I’d look after you—”

  “Wait, wait, wait, Carissa!!”

  It took several minutes for him to clear up the misunderstanding. Mainly because he could not, in fact, mention that he now had a robotic-sounding female voice in his head.