Bonus Chapter – David D. Chestermill

  Some time earlier.

  David slowly rose from his chair, feeling his back crack and pop after sitting for so long. He had been reading the reports and documents that Travis Tyrell so graciously allowed him to peruse, for it felt like the younger man was doing him a favor by letting him know what the darker parts of the company David was CEO of were doing. Such an unruly young fellow, one too arrogant for his own good. His arrogance had been quelled somewhat at the beginning, but as his retionship with Michael grew, Travis’s baser instincts were once again gaining traction in his mind.

  Another of David’s joints popped as he got up too quickly from his chair. It was not the pleasant sort of pop, but rather the kind that left a lingering pain in your back for the whole day. It would not hamper his movements, but that was perhaps even worse than if it did because now David had to watch what he was doing very carefully to avoid the ranges of motion that brought him pain. Or he could just bear through it, like he had many times, but pain brought by old age and a failing body was much more insidious than the pain of a fight. It was not something he had done to himself willingly; rather, time itself had decided he should suffer and how.

  He went to open himself a bottle of water. Straight from the decanter of infinite water or whatever its name was, the liquid was always fresh, pure, and satisfying to drink. The bottles they put it in… were not.

  He felt his fingers slip on the pstic cork as it dragged on his loose, mostly unfeeling, calloused skin that was too dry for a proper grip. He increased the force with which he pulled on the opposite ends of the pstic disc, making sure not to overdo it.

  It did not move.

  David sighed.

  A lifetime spent worrying about using too much strength, these instincts do not go away after barely a few years. Too bad the strength isn’t there anymore.

  It was with actual effort that he opened the bottle, his fingers among the most affected parts of his body with their uncontrolble twitches and cking fine motor control.

  To think he was a peak-Copper magic practitioner. Except, aura rank did not increase his base strength, nor did it fix his body, nor did it undo the ravages of time. Perhaps he could learn how to use aura like Michael did, but to do so effectively he could not remain stuck at Copper-rank. It was simply too weak.

  Huh. Weak. The word was becoming a constant companion.

  He shouldn’t compin. He had no right to compin. He was older yet healthier than most: even before Michael came with his healing, David had been gifted with a strong body that had withstood the passage of time better than that of most people. Plus, if he considered everything that he had put his body through before he retired…

  The scars on his skin might have faded to almost invisibility after repeated sessions of Michael’s healing, but David knew where each of them was supposed to be and what they represented. It’s just that the higher you climb, the harder you fall. It was his status, his strength, his height, his power—when they were taken away and David was forced back down to the level of mere mortals, it hurt. It didn’t matter that he was still stronger than even most thirty-year-olds. Why would it even matter, when 60% of them are obese, zy, soft pieces of—?

  “It says nothing about me,” he muttered, “and everything about them.”

  It also didn’t matter that he was still probably stronger than even Travis. Well, before the asshole got himself risen to Silver rank, at least. Who knows what that ranks does to you.

  It didn’t matter because if he even dared use a fraction of that strength, his body would probably tear itself apart beyond even Michael’s ability to heal him. What use is there for strength and power that can’t be accessed?

  David had told himself he would wait for Doctor Kavins’ research to yield some results. Even though the researcher was doing all he could, science could not be rushed too quickly.

  Still, David almost demanded that the research be done in the Misty Valley to make use of the time dition. The only thing stopping him was his recollection of how it felt to be under the dungeon’s Gaze. Most people found the Gaze to be a source of dread, oppression, fear, paranoia, and all sorts of things. It was different for him.

  The Gaze simply made him look at himself and really see that he was nothing more than a husk of what he had once been. It only happened once. That had been enough.

  David knew the Gaze would show him something different the next time he went in alone. He never did go back in alone.

  Was he a coward for not wanting to face his own weaknesses? Even though, this was not about facing anything, but rather about supinely accepting defeat and waiting for death to finally cim him as his body decayed and his muscles wasted away and he lost what little dignity he had managed to cling to after all these years.

  No. It was better to just bury himself in work.

  At the beginning, at least.

  But soon Michael’s zeal and attitude began to affect him. Choosing Michael had been just a whim back when he was just a simple pawn shop owner. He was retired, yet he was still living a shadow of his former life with his side jobs, with his contacts, with what he had other people do through his network. What he could once do with ease—even though he couldn’t do anymore, he watched others struggle to even attempt.

  Then Michael came along. Just another desperate young man, searching for money, willing to do shady things. David knew a guy who ran shady pces, so why not? He could sit in the VIP lounge, watch the newest fish flop around in a sea too dry for him, pretend to threaten the owner of the club as if he still had the clout to even threaten a small fry like him, and pass the time. Pass the time without thinking.

  Then the mafia asked for a guy to drive a car. Sure, Michael can drive a car. Driving a car can’t be too hard.

  Then Carme said she liked the dashing young American man who drove her car. Why not have him escort her friends to a meeting? Sure, what can go wrong?

  That, David realized with icy calmness, was where history almost repeated itself. David saw himself, old and na?ve and green just like Michael was, be asked to escort some people to a meeting. How stupid that he, in his old age and wisdom, failed to foresee what had already happened in the past.

  For young David, that had been the turning point where his life truly began. Perhaps that’s why old him failed to consider what it might have meant for Michael. For him, it had been a blessing. For Michael, there was no way to know for sure.

  It doesn’t matter that it all ended well. What matters is that he made a mistake back then, given what he knew. He should have never sent an idiot green new guy to do that sort of thing. He could have ruined his life.

  Yet, back in his day, he had been sent. His life had changed. But could he really cim it had been ruined?

  David had pushed his expectations on Michael as if Michael was him. He had been living vicariously through Michael. Thus, when Michael survived the shootout, he had simply done as expected.

  Then magic was revealed to him. It hit him. Michael was not like him. Michael was not gifted with good genetics, being seven feet tall with muscles like steel and capable of snapping a person in half with his bare hands, like he was. Michael had been gifted with magic.

  When Michael healed him, for a moment it was like nothing of it mattered anymore. David was back.

  Except he wasn’t. The limits of healing were soon evident. David was not back, not at all.

  It was much worse than that. He had been given a glimpse of the past, of his former self, a shadow of what it could be, and nothing more. He had been given hope.

  It pained him to admit, but the way he clung to Michael was almost pathetic. It took a long time for him to come to terms with it. With not being the top dog anymore. With needing to ask for help. He might look at Travis now and see an arrogant upstart who will only shame himself with asking for help for his own gain, but he had not been any better, had he?

  He shook his head. He didn’t even realize that his fingers had crushed the bottle of water he was drinking until he spilled the liquid all over the floor. Maneuvering the mop with his feet so that he wouldn’t need to bend down, he amended his thinking.

  He really did see Michael as his pupil. His retionship with him was genuine. There was more than self-interest there. More than the desire to be powerful again.

  Besides, David had learned long ago that he didn’t want to be the one at the very top. Just close to it.

  Still, it was pride that made him wait before asking for help. David threw himself into this new magic world, hoping to fix his problems by himself. The dungeon first, and then after the Gaze became too much, the anomalous house at Redbud Ridge.

  Even after Michael pried the truth out of him and asked Dr. Kavins to work on a drug, David was still in wait mode.

  No more. He finally made peace with himself. No longer was he going to hide the fact that he hated things as they were. He hated being old. He hated being powerless. He hated it, and he was tired of pretending that he didn’t.

  There is little he wouldn’t be willing to do to be whole again.

  “If there are people in the world who manage to age gracefully and come to terms with their own mortality,” David grumbled, “good for them. I’m not one of them. I’m hungry. There’s still a lot more to do.”

  Reaching Silver will be the first step towards reciming his pride.

  It was with this mindset that David sought out Michael. After all, if there is little he wouldn’t do to be whole again, asking Michael is barely an inconvenience. Not even a hit to his pride, after he came to terms with not being the top dog anymore. But a dog he wanted to be nonetheless.

  It was with this mindset that he and Michael set out for the Misty Valley.