Chapter 159: Home Coming

James cracked open his eyes. He lay in a recessed doorway, his body stiff and numb from the cold, the cardboard beneath his ass having done fuck-all to insulate him against the January cold. The skin on his face felt like it was burning from the frigid temperature, and his breath condensed before him with each exhalation.

He lay still. The Brooklyn street was quiet. It had to be way past midnight. Every store was hidden behind it’s roll-up metal grill doors. A cat froze on the far sidewalk and stared right at him, then darted away and was gone.

An ambulance was wailing in the far distance. Honks came from the busier avenue over. Neon light from the electronics store signage reflected luridly on a sheet of ice that had formed on the road.

James shifted his weight. His ass protested, his hip flared up in pain, and a dull ache rumbled through his mind, the vestiges of a hangover. What had happened? Something. He’d been…

James scowled and rubbed his gloved hand across the back of his mouth. His mustache had grown so long it ground against his lips. Why did that feel weird? He never trimmed his beard. Why did he feel like it should be shorter?

He blinked again and felt around him for a bottle. It was a hopeful gesture. He couldn’t remember if he’d had one with him or not.

Nope.

With a sigh he sank back against the door.

James pursed his lips. He was missing something. Something huge. He stared morosely out over the street. A white car slid by, tires hissing in the salted slush.

He should just try and go back to sleep.

But…

The memory of a voice whispered in his ear: Whatever it is, you’re not alone, yeah?

His heart rate jolted as he sat up. What the fuck? Who - where?

“Bonnie and Clyde,” he whispered, surprising himself. Now what the fuck did that mean? It felt so important. Tears filled his eyes. His chest cramped with emotion. What was wrong with him? He felt around desperately once more for a bottle.

Nothing.

Something had happened to him. But not last night. He dredged up the memory. He’d been at the shelter till 8pm, then left after an argument with one of the guys there. Had begged enough money from the yuppy bar goers to get a bottle of Cheer Wine, then sat in a dark park trying to make it last. Had thought of going back to the shelter, then… just wandered around, pan handling a little more till he’d collapsed here and called it a night.

So why was he so freaked out?

A sense of certainty washed over him: this wasn’t who he was. Not any more.

It felt like he stood before a groaning door, fingers on the handle. A door behind which waited millions of gallons of water, all of it causing the door to strain, to bulge, the boards bending out and fit to break.

All he had to do was turn the handle.

James’s mouth was dry as an ashtray. He couldn’t catch his breath. Did he want to open that door? Did he want to invite in that chaos, that madness?

For a second he thought: no. Turn away. Keep things chill, keep things the way they’d always been.

But then with a gasp he blinked and willed the door to open.

A thousand memories poured over him.

Demons cavorting amongst crowds, hacking them apart.

A towering mechanical construct six stories tall blasting with shoulder mounted guns.

A hellish landscape with a central tower, malefic and right out of a Lord of the Rings movie.

Faces. Strangers who somehow felt familiar.

With a cry James lurched to his feet and staggered out into the center of the street. Turned and searched the sky wildly for a burning symbol he knew had to be there, hovering in plain sight, demonic and portending extinction.

The sky above the Brooklyn streets was as empty and dark as ever.

Gasping for breath James wheeled around as a car slammed on its horn and then leaped aside with far more grace than he’d ever had before. He landed neatly on the pavement in a superhero crouch, one hand on the ice-slicked paving, and then stared down at his fist in shock.

“What the fuck?!”

And that’s when it came back. All of it. Memories lost in time. Memories of what was to come. Of what could be. A possible future, one in which he, of all people, starred as the savior of humanity.

An ill-begotten savior who failed to save 95% of humanity, but still.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. The System. The Nemeses. The demonic nodes, Crimson Hydra, Colonel Hackworth, Blue Light, meeting the president, flying with Jessica on a Wing, the Castrum, the Pits, angels, the backrooms, the Zorathians, flying into an actual black hole to fight a Seraph - all of it came crashing home.

James stood up smoothly.

Inhaled, looked up into the middle distance, and then summoned his statistics sheet.

Name: James Kelly

Class: Apostate Eradicating Crusader

Rank: Void Emperor Absolute

Title: Vanguard, Master of Mysteries, Overlord, Keeper of Humanity,

Divine Bulwark, Prime Servant, Light Against the Dark, Eschewer of Glories

Virtue: Justice

Benedictions: None

First Miracle: Death Attack

Second Miracle: [Expended]

Third Miracle: Unchosen

Corporal Perfection: 0

Mental Dominion: 0

Spiritual Exaltation: 0

Summons: None

Aura: Void Sublime

Aura Strength: 6

Aeviternum Points: 9

Strength: 6

Stamina: 5

Speed: 6

Agility: 4

Power: 5

Arete: 3,412/3,412

Unspent Points 3,789,000,000

“Holy shit,” he whispered again. He stared at that last number. Almost 4 billion unspent points. What was that divided by 9,000? Something like…450,000?

James blinked and staggered back till he could lean against a storefront.

He had the equivalent of 450,000 Reservoir Cubes of power unspent within him. He couldn’t catch his breath.

Thaguavar the Black had reached the depths of the Pit with 3.

He had 450,000.

He couldn’t even process what that kind of power meant.

Wait.

He’d spurned Jelly. The Eluthaarii had appeared at the last second. Clearly it had the power to reverse time for itself and come here to confront him.

Its rage had to be infinite.

James pushed off the wall and looked everywhere about him.

Nothing.

Just a frigid New York City night.

Wouldn’t he come? Maybe to kill him? Prevent him from fucking up the works? Or had he earned this fairly? Would the Eluthaarii allow him to get away with it?

Still nothing manifested.

James licked his cracked lips. Waited. Watched.

Still nothing.

James slowly lowered his fists.

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“Fuck.” He shivered against the cold. A group of young men came down the sidewalk, clearly drunk and in a festive mood. One of the men blew vape smoke into the air and laughed in delight at some comment. James stepped back so they could pass, and they regarded him with the usual mix of pity and blankness.

One of them called out, “Get a job, pops!”

The rest laughed and they kept on walking.

James watched them go.

They’d probably be dead in a couple of months.

The System was still coming.

Everything was on track.

Everything was going to repeat itself. Nothing had changed.

Nothing but him.

But for now it was all as it had once been. The windows above the stores were dark but filled with life. Men and women and children sleeping in their beds with nothing more to worry about but their everyday concerns. All over the world people were going about their lives. Laughing, fucking, lying, swearing their love, being bored, studying, trying to get a raise, farming, whatever.

Humanity.

8 billion of us.

And only he knew what was to come.

Tears filled James’s eyes and he walked down the street, leaving his backpack behind. Took a turn, passed the 43rd Street subway station, and stopped outside a bar.

Paddy’s Luck.

A small crowd was gathered before it, folks smoking cigarettes, shoulders hunched, feeling solidarity in their shared privation.

James stared at them in wonder. Looked past them into the bar. It was loud, full of people, music loud and insistent.

“You OK there, buddy?” The bouncer looked at him with sympathy. “Need something?”

“No, I’m fine.” He wanted to bless them, hug them, tell them how wonderful they were. But that would just get him shoved back. So he grinned, wiped the tears away, and stumbled off.

For awhile he just walked. Took in Brooklyn in all its midnight glory. The traffic, people hurrying along the sidewalk, the lit windows, the complete and utter lack of destruction. No corpses, no shattered glass, no overturned cars, no demolished walls. No smoke choking the skies, no wail of children, nothing.

Just the world, as it always had been.

James finally fetched up in Grand Salvation Army square. It was desolate, the winter cold having driven everyone away. He wandered across its great expanse. He could remember the National Guard trying to control the situation here so vividly. He stopped where he’d stood with the others, waiting for commands. Could almost hear the cries of the desperate crowd, could remember their plight so vividly.

He walked to where the barricades had been, through that space, and out into where the crowds had stood. Faced the direction from which the Nem1’s had come.

The wind blew, cutting into him like a scythe, and with it he thought he heard a thousand voices raised in reedy song: All we are saying…

James sniffed sharply and turned in a circle.

Nothing but darkness, ice, and cold.

And were he to tell anyone, they really would think he was mad.

“Fuck me,” he whispered. It really had worked. Four weeks. He had four weeks in which to make a difference.

Then it occurred to him: Herman’s was out there. Serenity. She’d not remember him, of course, but she was there, alive, caught up in her own life. Same with the rest of Crimson Hydra. Fuck, Bjørn was live, Joanna, Becca, everyone.

The urge to go to Herman’s was overwhelming. A physical compulsion. But James crushed it ruthlessly.

No.

Not yet.

First he had to take care of business.

He summoned his sheet once more. The glowing words filled his vision. For a few moments he fumbled around, issuing mental commands that did nothing, and then he finally willed the words ‘Root Directory’ at the System, and an overlay appeared.

Unspent points: 3,789,000,000

Select Purchase Category:

Offense | Defense | Abundance

Substance | Spatial | Temporal

Self | Summons | Virtues

Apotheosis

“God damn.” He rubbed his hands together. “All right. Just a little shopping. Won’t need much.”

In quick succession he purchased 100 Aeviternum, boosted his physical stats to 1,000 each, waving away the Limit Break and synergy notifications, and then raised his Arete to an even 50,000. He dove into Death Attack and bumped that up to 50k as well and ran a quick calculation.

It now did 62 trillion damage.

It’d do for now.

He snapped up every Benediction and raised his Corporal Perfection, Mental Dominion, and Spiritual Exaltation to 1,000 each.

The effect was immediate. Strength, calmness, and awareness suffused him. It felt like shrugging off a rotten comforter that had been dropped over his head. The aches and pains, the cold and the hangover, the stiffness and weariness all disappeared. His mind sharpened, his thoughts clarified, and he felt in perfect form.

A whole new man.

With a sigh he peeled off the finger gloves and dropped them in the trash. Took off the ratty green overcoat and draped it over a park bench, and then set his knitted cap beside it.

James inhaled deeply.

But he wasn’t done.

It took a few minutes, but he worked his way through the menu to purchase for himself every miracle his buddies had possessed. Olaf’s optimized Circle of Protection, Jason’s teleportation, Kimmie’s mental defenses, Yadriel’s transmutation powers, and Denzel’s resurrection and healing powers. He nerfed Reboot, since he’d never be able to pay for that power again, and left himself with a still vastly more powerful version of Kerim’s time control.

When he was done acquiring the improved powers, he gave himself the regular Miracles just to be safe.

When he was finished he checked his remaining points.

Unspent points: 3,788,866,124

“Fucking hell,” he whispered. The urge to go buck wild and turn himself into a god was momentarily alluring, but he quashed the instinct.

Instead, he navigated to Abundance.

Current Abundance: 50,000

This is mildly absurd.

Transfer Aeviternum | Transfer Abundance | Transfer Unspent Points

There it was.

James held his breath and activated ‘Transfer Unspent Points’.

Unspent points: 3,788,866,124

Designate target | Select # of points | Initiate Transfer

Warning: this process cannot be reversed

James shook with such relief and gratitude that he stumbled back against he wall. For a moment he just stood there, staring at the letters, and then he dismissed the System.

He could transfer points.

Which meant he could create new Blue Light operators.

He could create almost four million of them with a 1,000 points each. Or… or whatever configuration made the most sense. Could he have the System hack their Systems, too? How would he bestow the points? He’d have to go international, would have to reach out to governments first, would have to convince people, then figure out -

James forced himself to close down that line of thought. It was dizzying, overwhelming, but he had a single priority right now.

“All right.” James exhaled slowly and closed his eyes. “Time to do some house cleaning.”

He activated his teleportation ability. A portal appeared before him, limned in white fire. Without hesitation he stepped through it, leaving Brooklyn and all of New York behind.

Only to emerge in an even colder environ. With only his long sleeved shirt and bare head he’d have died of hypothermia in minutes.

As it was, he registered the subzero temperatures as an aside.

Before him stood a large, rustic log cabin in the light of the moon. Once it might have been grand, something an entire family or several generations had worked on, but it had fallen into serious disrepair. Some sections were discolored, the new timber standing out against the old, and half the forest-encircled clearing before the building was turned into a work area, complete with sawhorses, piles of lumber and trash.

“Belanger!” shouted James. “Hey! I know you’re in there. We need to talk.”

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