+100000 Aura

  John blinked at the notification. That was the second most Aura he’d received in one go, only beaten by his defeat of a red-souled monster. It was gratifying to see, since part of his motivation here was to impress these people and farm Aura from their awe of his actions, but the number took him off guard.

  As the devastating effects of Gravity Bomb settled down, he considered the situation, and it quickly began to make sense. Doug, Lily, Chester, and Jade—and Alissa and Sam, to a lesser degree—had had time to get used to his epic exploits. When he’d shown them Supernova, it had been merely a continuation of the theme, an escalation that was almost expected, all thing considered.

  On the other hand, this was the first time witnessing his feats for five of the seven. And the golden twins had only seen him kick them and their comrades arses; impressive, but far less so than wiping out an entire wave of monsters by merely clapping.

  It was one thing to hear a guy claim he’d been solely responsible for all the chaos going on outside your base. It was another entirely to see his power for yourself.

  Gravity Bomb had crushed an entire wave of monsters in an instant, then reduced the area they’d been swarming through to a flat plain of rubble hundreds of metres across. Had any of them seen anything close to that kind of power? John was sure there were plenty of people who’d grown as strong as him around the world, because he refused to countenance the idea that he could be the strongest humanity had to offer, but he certainly didn’t see anyone else wiping out hundreds of monsters at a time anywhere nearby.

  John had been leading this new group from the sky, vaguely listening to their ongoing arguments—it was oddly nostalgic, hearing them debate about the merits of following this crazy guy with incredible power. Brought him back to when he’d first met Lily, Jade, and Chester.

  He’d aimed to lead them straight out of town as the crow flies if he could, but it was only inevitably that the eldritch intelligence coordinating the monsters in this town would take umbrage with his actions. It hadn’t been a surprise when another wave of monsters had sought to stymie their escape.

  Now that wave was gone. Hundreds of monsters wiped out in an instant. And he’d do the same to any more that came.

  John hung in the air for a moment and revelled in the feeling of success. A small grin found its way to his lips. He couldn’t help it.

  +1000 Aura

  When he moved on with a great beat of his Dragon Wings, there were no more arguments about whether to follow him. Funny, that.

  John positioned himself high above and ahead of the fleeing survivors as he led them west. The seven figures moved in a tight cluster through the streets, navigating around rubble and wreckage, their pace as quick as they could manage while staying together. He kept Clairvoyance active on them, a secondary awareness hovering above their heads like a guardian angel, letting him see and hear everything.

  "Holy shit," breathed Simon, his forced cheer completely abandoned.

  "That's..." Vincent's voice had lost its anime protagonist cadence entirely. "That's not possible. That can't be possible. How did he...?"

  "I told you we should have stayed in the basement," Aisha said, but her doom-saying had lost its performative edge. She just sounded meek.

  Tomoyo's fan had dropped to her side, forgotten. "What is he?"

  The twins' helmets tracked John's form overhead in a synchronised movement.

  "How is someone that strong?" That was Vincent again, his voice low. "I mean, I've been fighting since the beginning. Since day one. I've killed loads of monsters, levelled up, unlocked abilities. But I couldn't do that. I couldn't do a fraction of that."

  "None of us could," Tomoyo agreed. Her voice had lost its refined tone, gaining a hint of an accent John couldn’t place.

  "Makes me wonder what the fuck I’ve been doing with this doomer bullshit," Aisha muttered.

  Simon scoffed. "Maybe he has some secret which means I won’t have to act like this fucking moron all the time."

  Antoine's mask turned toward the sky where John circled. "I'm not at all curious about how he achieved such mediocre power. His methods are clearly not worth investigating."

  John's satisfaction dimmed slightly as he listened. They'd broken character. All of them except Antoine, who seemed to be the only committed to maintaining his opposite-speak gimmick. The twins, of course, remained silent—he was starting to wonder if their thing was staying quiet and moving in sync.

  It was frustrating to watch. The System rewarded performance, and they'd just collectively failed at maintaining theirs. If their Systems were anything like his, they were probably haemorrhaging points right now.

  Then again, maybe that would teach them something.

  His thoughts were interrupted by another surge of hostile presences. This one from the north. A smaller wave, but closing fast. John turned towards them, wings catching the heated air currents rising from some of the small fires burning in the town, and positioned himself for another attack.

  This time he went for variety. No point being predictable.

  Drawing in a deep breath augmented by Biomancy, he exhaled a hurricane of devastation. The Level 7 Spell lacked the raw lethality of Supernova or Gravity Bomb, but it made up for it in spectacle. Monsters were caught up in the winds, flung high into the air before being dashed against buildings or each other. The few that survived the initial assault found themselves disoriented, vulnerable, perfect targets for follow-up strikes.

  Swooping in close, John finished them off with Draconic Inferno, incinerating the stragglers. The combination was devastatingly effective and looked incredible, the swirling winds creating patterns in the flames like a dragon dancing through the sky.

  +75000 Aura

  Through Clairvoyance, he got a front row seat to the group’s reaction. Gasps galore, eyes wide with awe, and more.

  "Did you see that?"

  "He's toying with them. An entire fucking wave of monsters aren’t even a threat."

  "How? How does someone get that strong?"

  John's frown returned as he listened. They still weren't getting it. They were asking the wrong question. It wasn't how someone got this strong—the System made that path relatively clear, if hideously expensive. The real question was why he'd advanced so much further than they had.

  And the answer, frustratingly, was right there in their own behaviour. They knew their Systems demanded performances. They knew they were playing assigned roles meant to psychologically torture them. But knowing and doing were apparently two different things, and the moment genuine emotion took over, they abandoned their characters.

  Meanwhile, John had spent over a week maintaining his cool-guy persona through injuries, fear, exhaustion, and genuine terror. He'd quipped while bleeding. He'd acted aloof while his anxiety screamed at him to run. He'd committed to the bit even when every instinct told him to drop it.

  That was the difference. That was why he had Supernova and Gravity Bomb and Reaper's Gale while they were still struggling with whatever basic abilities their Systems had granted them.

  A third wave appeared on Mana Sense, this one from the southwest. John was already moving to intercept when he heard Vincent's voice drift up from below.

  "Well, we’re not going to catch up to him by bitching about it and feeling hard done by."

  The others had stopped again. Through Clairvoyance, John watched as Vincent's face twisted with realization, that awful anime protagonist mask fighting to reassert itself.

  "Only way to get stronger is to act cringey as fuck," Vincent muttered, too low for the others to hear. Then he took a deep breath and spoke louder: "True power comes from accepting your destiny, from committing with your whole heart to the role you've been given! That's the warrior's way! That's how legends are born!"

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  He thrust his fist toward the sky where John circled overhead. "Look at him! He doesn't question, he doesn't hesitate! And that unwavering dedication is made him strong enough to wipe out entire waves of monsters with a gesture! That's the power of absolute commitment! The power of accepting your fate and making it your own!"

  There was a long silence. Then Tomoyo's spoke, voice still carrying traces of uncertainty, "You're suggesting we emulate his... dedication?"

  "I'm saying we need to stop fighting ourselves!" Vincent declared, his voice ringing with conviction. "What matters is that we embrace our roles with everything we have! Only by walking our chosen path without doubt, without hesitation, can we hope to achieve even a fraction of his power! That's the truth that burns within my soul!"

  "That's..." Aisha started, then stopped. When she continued, her voice had regained some of its theatrical despair. "That's... probably the most sensible thing you've said all week. Which means we're all doomed anyway because nothing sensible survives the apocalypse."

  "Oh, oh, oh!" Simon's manic energy returned full force, possibly more intense than before as he overcompensated. "That's such a great idea! I love it! Let's all just lean into our horrible, soul-crushing character roles! It'll be so much fun! The best time ever! Nothing could make me happier than losing more of myself to this nightmare!"

  "I definitely disagree with this plan," Antoine said flatly. "It's clearly the worst possible course of action."

  Tomoyo was silent for a long moment. Then her fan snapped open, and when she spoke, every trace of uncertainty was gone from her voice, replaced by that haughty, refined tone. "Very well. If dedication to one's role is the price of power, then I shall pay it. A Maeda does not do things by half measures."

  Vincent struck a pose, fist raised toward the sky, his voice sliding back into that overwrought enthusiasm. "Yes! That's the spirit, Tomoyo-chan! The flames of our determination will light the way forward! Together, we'll show this cruel world the true power that burns within our souls! Believe it!"

  "It’s Maeda-sama to you, peasant."

  John rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses but had to admit a grudging respect for their renewed commitment. It remained to be seen how that would last.

  The third monster wave to try to intercept them was smaller than the previous ones, just a few hundred or so insects. He wondered if that meant the coordinator of this farce in Watford was having to scramble to put forces together. From his vantage, he could see more rushing across the town, but no more were near enough to influence the current situation.

  He was tempted to use Reaper’s Gale to show off some more, but decided against it. That five minutes cooldown made it an option that required more consideration. Instead, he crushed them all with Tsunami, summoning a wall of that crashed into the monsters with bone-crushing force. The bugs were swept away, smashed against buildings and pavement, their bodies broken by the sheer hydraulic pressure.

  +60000 Aura

  He led the group onward, staying high above them, occasionally circling back to check on their progress. They were moving more confidently now, their newly reinforced personas helping them navigate the ruined streets with something approaching determination rather than desperation.

  By the time they reached the western edge of Watford proper, John's Aura total had climbed by almost 250,000 points. Not bad for an escort mission.

  The landscape shifted as they moved beyond Watford's borders. Buildings gave way to more open spaces, fields and parkland that had once been carefully maintained but were now showing the chaos of a week without human management. Grass grew wild and long. Trees drooped under the weight of branches that hadn't been trimmed. Everything looked slightly wrong, slightly overgrown, nature already beginning to reclaim what humanity had abandoned.

  The burning sky cast it all in shades of red and orange, turning the picturesque countryside into something from a hellish painting.

  Micklefield Hall rose from this landscape like something out of a period drama. The manor house was a beautiful example of Georgian architecture—or maybe Victorian, John wasn't great with architectural periods—with tall windows, elegant stonework, and grounds that would have been immaculate before the apocalypse. Now the gardens were somewhat wild, the gravel driveway littered with fallen leaves and debris, but the building itself seemed largely untouched by the chaos.

  John had to give Doug credit. The old man had picked their temporary base well. Defensible, isolated, large enough to house dozens of people comfortably, and surrounded by open ground that would make monster approaches easy to spot.

  More importantly, it looked impressive as hell.

  His team waited at the end of the long driveway, exactly as planned. Doug stood front and centre in his ridiculous swimming shorts, somehow managing to look commanding despite being mostly naked. Lily flanked him to the left, her chainmail catching the light, her crossbow held loosely in one hand. Chester was to the right in his hockey armour, looking significantly more confident than he had any right to. And Jade stood slightly behind the others in her grey tracksuit that looked unassuming but contained plenty to defend her.

  But what really sold the scene were the Summons.

  John had taken the time yesterday evening Enchanting various objects with summon spells, and the results now flanked his team like an honour guard of magical beasts.

  The Winter Wolf stood to Doug's left, easily the size of a small car, its fur so white it almost glowed. Mist rolled off its body in a constant stream, frost forming on the ground wherever its paws touched. Its eyes were chips of blue ice, like that of a glacier.

  The Grove Guardian was a living tree that had uprooted itself, its bark-covered limbs moving with surprising grace. Vines hung from its branches like hair, and John could swear he saw eyes opening and closing in the trunk's knotholes. It towered over the humans, easily twelve feet tall, ancient and powerful.

  Next came the Iron Lion, its entire body forged from some kind of silvery metal that reflected the burning sky. Every movement produced a soft grinding sound as it paced around to one side of the group, metal muscles sliding over metal bones. Its mane was composed of hundreds of blade-like protrusions that shifted and rattled in the wind.

  The Ghost Spider was perhaps the most unsettling of the lot. Semi-translucent, its form flickering between solid and ethereal, it perched on the manor's roof with its eight legs splayed wide. Each leg was tipped with a barb that gleamed with an oily sheen that spoke of poison. Its multiple eyes glowed with a sickly green light.

  And hovering above it all, the Flame Falcon Lily had been using to fly here. The bird of fire circled overhead, its wings trailing sparks.

  The effect was exactly what John had been going for. His team looked like a small army, backed by magical beasts that wouldn't have been out of place in a fantasy epic.

  The seven survivors slowed as they approached, their newfound commitment to their personas warring with obvious trepidation. Even Vincent's anime protagonist swagger faltered slightly as he took in the Summons.

  John decided it was time to make his re-entrance to the scene.

  He activated Teleportation with a theatrical flair he'd been practicing in his head. One moment he was hundreds of feet above the manor, the next he was standing at the front of his team with his arms crossed, his Dragon Wings spreading wide behind him, shadows billowing out from his long jacket.

  +7000 Aura

  Oh yeah, I’m going to get so much Aura from these people.

  "Welcome," Doug said, his tone managing to be both friendly and commanding. "Welcome to Micklefield Hall, and welcome to the resistance."

  There was a beat of silence. Then Tomoyo's fan rose to partially cover her face, her eyes narrowing with what looked like genuine interest despite the haughty upqrds tilt of her chin. "Resistance? What do you mean by that?”

  Doug's grin was all teeth. "I mean we're not just surviving anymore. We're not just hiding and hoping the monsters get bored and leave. We're taking the fight to them. We're going to win back our world."

  He gestured broadly at the Summons, at his team, at John standing with his wings still half-spread.

  "And we're recruiting. Everyone we find, everyone who's survived this long, we're bringing them in. Organising them. Arming them. This," he indicated the manor behind him, "is where it starts. This is where we turn begin turning the tables on the fucker’s who’ve taken over our world."

  If Doug’s System had been based on Aura, John was sure the old man would have received at least 10,000 points for that.

  Vincent was the first to react, his voice rising with that theatrical enthusiasm. "Yes! Yes, that's what I'm talking about!" He struck another pose, one fist pumping toward the sky. "Finally, someone who understands! We can't just cower and hide! We have to fight! We have to show these monsters that humanity's spirit can't be broken! That our bonds of friendship and determination are stronger than any alien force! The flames of our courage will light the way forward! Believe it!"

  Tomoyo's fan snapped shut. "A resistance." She savoured the word, rolling it around in her mouth like a fine wine. Her lips curved into the slightest smile. "Very well. If you're organising resistance, I suppose I have no choice but to participate. Someone needs to ensure this endeavour maintains some level of refinement and strategy."

  "Strategy," Aisha muttered, her voice heavy with despair. "As if strategy matters. As if any of this matters. We're doomed. All of us. We're just choosing between dying now or dying slightly later. But sure, why not. Let's pretend we have a chance. Let's pretend fighting back will make any difference when the universe clearly wants us dead."

  "Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!" Simon spun in place, his movements jerky. He looked like he almost tripped, but managed to catch himself. "A resistance! That's so exciting! I just love the idea of organized military operations against overwhelming supernatural forces! Nothing could make me happier! This is definitely not terrifying at all! I'm so thrilled I could die!" His grin was fixed, manic, and didn't reach his eyes at all

  .Antoine's masked face turned toward Doug, and his voice was mostly monotone, but there was the slightest hint of emotion when he spoke, "I think this is a terrible idea. We should absolutely not join you. I'm completely certain that fighting back is the worst possible strategy."

  Which, translated from Antoine-speak, meant he was fully on board.

  That left the twins. They'd been silent throughout the entire exchange, just standing there in their golden armour, watching John with those haunted eyes. Everyone turned to look at them, waiting.

  Vincent peered at them. "Anna? Nat? You’ve both been quiet…"

  For a long moment, they said nothing. Then, moving in legitimately perfect synchronization, they both nodded. There was no hint of enthusiasm or confidence in the movement. Just a slow, shaky nod of acknowledgment, their movements so eerily identical it made John's skin crawl.

  But it was agreement. That's what mattered. he had a larger audience now, seven more people who'd watched him annihilate monster waves like they were nothing, who'd see him return again and again with more survivors, more victories.

  The thought was equally exciting and terrifying. Seven more sources of Aura gain to help him grow his strength. Seven more pairs of eyes that could bear witness if he fucked up, seven more people to try and navigate social dynamics with.

  Doug's grin widened. "Excellent. Then welcome to the team. We've got a lot of work ahead of us."

  John was already stepping away, flexing his wings. "I'm heading back to Watford," he announced. "More portals to clear. More survivors to find. The night's not over yet."

  Then he was airborne, wings beating hard as he launched himself back into the sky.