The next week was spent with Michael training in the correct way to use his magic talent, mostly but using the energy in the world around him to create energetic effects or solid objects. He was grateful for Alexi’s help but the more time he spent with her, the more he started battling with his own thoughts. Who was he? Was his body that of some poor merchant’s son that had his consciousness forced onto it? Was he really still himself, with a body and a history that had been formed out of nothing and a whole false history forced into this world? Was this really even a world? Is this some type of test that will determine the destination of his soul? Is this just a simulation and his world glitched out after he got turned into meat paste inside of his pickup truck? Did it really matter? Does anything matter? And, most importantly, why the fuck are there Earth languages here?
In the times that Michael wasn’t having an existential crisis, or training, he was getting to know both Alexi and Bernard. Bernard was exactly what Michael expected from a guard; a man of simple joys and simpler humor, but the one thing he started to noticed was when Bernard started to get excited or a bit into his cups, he started using a lot of slang words that when processed by Michael’s mind felt like he was listening to a strange cross between someone with a Geordie accent and an Appalachian accent. By contrast, Alexi was quite possibly the most gentle person he had ever met, a thought that he knew he had repeatedly about her. He found that Alexi was the type of person that would cry if she accidentally crushed a fly. He found her philosophy on life to be completely different from his, to her all life was sacred because all life was connected. And it went deeper than just the circle of life, every life being sacred to Alexi came from all life serving a purpose to the gods and if the gods have a purpose for it then we should interfere with that purpose as little as possible. When he asked her about how she feels about her healing magic possibly changing the purpose of a creature’s life her answer was simple, but profound, “A creature only has a purpose or a chance of fulfilling its purpose while it has life. When it no longer lives, its purpose is either fulfilled or it has failed to serve its purpose.” Michael had to think on that for a little bit, and realized that he always felt that life was meaningless, to the point of almost being a nihilist. He felt that his actions would be meaningless in the long term, he might make some small changes to the immediate reality, but in a century, a millennium, an eon, would anything still be left to prove he existed? Would anything care that he existed? Did anyone miss him after his death? How many of the pilots that flew in and out of Spirit Airport would miss his voice? Did any of his coworkers care, or were they just pissed that there was a 48 hour gap in the staffing every week that they had to cover?
A soft hand pressed to his shoulder pulled him from his spiraling thoughts of despair, when he looked up, he found that he was staring into Alexi’s green eyes. “You had that face you make when you start thinking too hard, want to share your thoughts with me?” She asked softly.
“What is the purpose of life?” He blurted out before he could even think about lying to her.
“Well, that is the big question, isn’t it?” She replies, before smiling and sitting on the bed next to him. “Every philosopher has asked that question, and every cleric claims to have the answer. But the real answer is, only we can define what our purpose is, that is the whole purpose of having free will. Those without free will are giving purpose and sent down their life path, however us as sapient beings get to decide our purpose. What was your purpose in your old world, Michael?” Alexi asked softly.
“I, I don’t know, I felt like I was adrift in the sea of life, just floating from day to day.” Michael said, leaning against the bunkhead that his bunk hung from.
“Well, you must have had a job, how did you earn money?” She asked.
“I was an air traffic controller, we…” Michael started to explain what an air traffic controller was but was interrupted.
“We have those in Silverleaf” Alexi said with excitement.
“You do?” Michael blinked for a moment, “Maybe the magic that is doing its translation thing is not working correctly, what do your air traffic controllers do?”
“Well, they make sure all the flying ships, griffon or eagle riders, or those with their own way to fly don’t crash into each other when they arrive at the roost. I have also been told that Abalonia has them in the cities of Nevillefort, Middleton, and Lewiston.” She said excitedly.
“That sounds almost exactly like what I did, I am sure the methods are different and the airborne vehicles are incredibly different, but yes, that is very much what I did.” Michael said with a smile.
“So, your purpose was to save people, maybe not as glamorous as a healer or a dungeoneer, but I saw what happened when a busy roost had too many people trying to arrive at the same time. I watched two griffon riders collide, sending the riders plummeting to the paving stones below and the griffons torn each other to pieces. I can’t imagine what it would have been like if two stubborn airship captains both thought that they were first and someone didn’t keep them pulled apart.” Alexi shuddered at the thought.
He tilted his head to the side for a moment, “You know, my trainer told me something similar on my first day at Spirit Tower. He told me that our job was to keep everyone in those planes and on the ground safe. He would repeatedly say that the best thing we could hope for was to stay out of the news reports, pointing out that rarely would the public understand when we did something really good, and even if we did something really good, our name would never be in the paper. However, be party to something tragic enough, be the cause of something tragic, our names would make the news reports and we would forever have to defend ourselves, and many would view us as murderers.” Michael said, looking up at the wood planks.
Alexi nods, “I can see that is still a part of who you are. When the pirates attacked us, you didn’t hesitate, you didn’t coward and flee. You took action to protect yourself and those that you felt like you had the responsibility to protect because you knew you had the power to do so.”
Michael smiled at her, and then looked at his arm, it was completely healed but he could still remember that brief flash of pain when he shattered every bone in it. “Thank you for healing my arm.”
“You’ve already thanked me, probably a thousand times actually.” Alexi said with a smile, then asked, “So, I guess the big question, mister brought here by the powers stronger than the gods of this world, is what are you going to make your purpose here?”
Michael took a long breath, “Honestly, I’m not a hero. I am not the person that wants fame or to have his name venerated for generations to come. I am the guy that sees a problem, assesses if he can fix that problem, and then fixes the problem if he can. And well, those powers that you speak of, they told me that there is a problem that they cannot solve. I don’t understand how they cannot solve it, nor why they need me. They have endless power, and they could have picked any of the eight billion or so people from my planet, or any of the countless other souls throughout the universe, for their mortal agent.” Michael shook his head.
“To understand why they can’t fix it is irrelevant to the situation. And it might also be that they could fix it, but it would require actions so drastic as to make this world unrecognizable afterward. My father is a carpenter and I always asked him why he had so many different hammers.” A smile curled across Alexi’s lips at the memory, “He handed me this giant hammer, almost as tall as me. He told me that it was a hammer for moving the logs of a cabin into place and making sure that they were seated properly. I could barely lift it. He then slid a jewelry box across his work table to me and asked me to drive this tiny tack that he was using to hold down the fabric inside of it.” Alexi was silent for a moment, letting Michael process that for a moment, “What if the powers that brought you, only have the log hammer, and this work requires the fine detail work of that small tacking hammer?”
Michael tilted his head back and forth as he thought about it. “I see what you are saying, they need something small enough to get into the fine details, instead of brute forcing what they are doing. But still, why me? I really wasn’t anything special.”
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“True, but consider this: how many souls in the universe were free, come from someone that has the instincts of a protector, doesn’t want to be a hero, and understands using their power responsibly?” Alexi asked him.
“Few, maybe none” Michael answered honestly, before Alexi lightly smacked him on the shoulder.
“There is at least one. You!” She scolded him.
“Glad that I seem to have made a positive impression on you.” Michael said with a smile that caused Alexi’s ears to turn the same red as her hair.
The next day, the ship arrived in Straitport. Michael, Bernard and Alexi disembarked from the ship. Bernard offered to stay with the goods being transported by Michael’s family, the thought of Michael having a family and having a lifetime of memories with them still made his head hurt but he chose to accept it. Michael then looked at a letter that he remembered being given, it was directions to an inn that was paid for by his father and then he turned to Alexi.
“Alexi, do you have somewhere to stay in the city?” Michael asked, looking at the directions and description of the inn.
“No, I know a few inns” Alexi gave a small shrug..
“Do you know” Michael looked down at the letter, “The Rampant Stag?”
“Do I know it? It is only the most luxurious inn in all of Straitport.” Alexi said, seemingly starting to vibrate with anticipation.
“You want to come with?” Michael said, giving her a smile.
Alexi nearly tackled Michael after he offered, “Please please please!”
Michael laughed, “Okay, yes. You can join me”
Michael allowed Alexi to lead him across the city, which might have been a mistake, because as soon as they exited the port, Alexi led him directly through the market. The market was a beehive of activity, so much so that Michael almost missed it when someone bumped against him. Almost missed the hand grabbing the pouch filled with coins. Almost missed the small knife moving to cut the strings holding the pouch to his belt. His hand wrapped around the wrist of the knife wielding hand, moving out of pure instinct before he looked at the person it was attached to. His eyes went up the slender arm and the flawless skin that was exposed by the tattered half sleeve of the dirty shirt.
“Eww! Let go of me, you creep” a feminine voice called out, bringing Michael’s attention to the slender face and high ponytail sticking out of the dark cotton wrap around her head.
“Why? So you can get another chance to steal from me?” Michael asked, looking over her dirty and threadbare clothes that had been repaired countless times, “You know what, take it” he decided, untying the pouch and letting it drop into her free hand.
Her green eyes went wide as she felt the pouch drop into her hand. “You’re joking? This is a setup! It has to be!” Her voice came out as almost a squeak as she stared wild eyed at Michael.
“Listen, if you need coin bad enough to steal from random strangers in the market. A market where your target could be a powerful mage that could turn you into a frog, or a pile of ashes before anyone could as much as move a finger to stop them, then think of this as a donation to the betterment of your life.” Michael said while firmly but carefully pushed her back to arm’s length.
The young woman opened her mouth to say something, when another feminine voice cut through the air with a wordless scream. She is unable to say anything as Michael sprints off towards the sound of the scream, leaving her with the coin purse. Of course she followed after him, this is the exact type of man that she was looking for, and of course he would speak fluent Vashian, no native of Abalonia would.
When Michael rounded the last stall blocking his view of the central market, the sight brought him up short. There was a group of orcs, no not orcs, he remembered that they were called “starkalf”. The starkalf that caught his attention was the one in the center of the group, holding a dark haired human woman over a low bar. It took a moment for Michael’s mind to accept the reality of what he was witnessing, the cages, full of people and people walking among the cages, talking with merchants. And the thing that twisted Michael’s soul the most, the starkalf clearly “sampling” the “product” in full view of everyone. Of course, the product was the young woman, and she absolutely was not willing to be sampled, nor was she enjoying it.
“Sickening isn’t it?” The pickpocket said from beside Michael, “If you cannot pay your debts, you can sell yourself to the peddlers at the flesh market. Then you can be purchased for whatever use your new master decides. Of course there is some rate that is paid and it goes towards your debt.” Michael stopped listening to explanation, and marched directly at the starkalf. In Michael’s rage, the magic condensed around him, forming an aura of crackling energy.
The starkalf was so preoccupied with his sampling of his newest purchase, that it wasn’t until Michael shoved him to the ground did he become aware of Michael’s presence. Michael’s eyes flicked over to the woman as she collapsed to the ground, blood trickling down her thighs from the abuse she was receiving until just moments before. A roar of indignation pulled Michael’s attention back to the starkalf as he stood. Michael looked up, almost having to bend backwards as the muscled man towered almost a full two feet taller than Michael. Time seemed to slow for Michael, he watched the starkalf pull his fist back, clearly he was aiming to punch Michael’s head clear into the sea from the market.
“Die”, the word was growled, a primal hatred that carried with centuries of puritanical outrage at such a lewd display, compounded exponentially by the fact that it was not a mutually consenting event. As Michael’s command reverberated through the market, the energy contained in his aura solidified around the starkalf and locked it into place. The moment Michael’s aura wrapped around the starkalf, its flesh started to dematerialize and join with the energy swirling around and through Michael. A panicked and pained howl was torn from the starkalf’s throat as he was slowly turned into energy.
While it only took a little more than a minute for Michael to dissolve the starkalf into pure energy, it howled the whole time, and when the howled ended, Michael looked up at the remaining group of starkalves. Michael stood there for a moment, the amount of energy contained within him causing him to glow, even in the midday sun. With a single nonchalant glance to the waists of the starkalves, he could see that they all had been at the very least enjoying the show that he had interrupted.
To those that were standing around the market, they watched a human use raw magic to convert an extremely muscled, extremely tall starkalf into pure magical energy. That same human looked the other starkalf up and down before the ground exploded under him, leaving a cloud of fine stone dust where he was before a rain of thick red blood, viscera, bone fragments, and small chunks of pulverized meat fell over the market.
For Michael, the memory was much more vivid, the energy supercharging every fiber of him. He could feel his synapses working faster than he had ever experienced, his muscles reinforced and strengthened, and his bones became hyper dense to handle the extra strength. Right before he made a move, a red window appeared in his vision.
The red window faded and a blue one filled his vision.
Michael stared at the window for a moment, realizing that his might, agility and endurance had increased an order of magnitude. When he dismissed the window, the world seemed frozen around him, only the slow movement of a fly’s wings let Michael know that time had not frozen. A grin of satisfaction curled his lips before he broke into a run at the motionless starkalves. The first punch to the nearest one felt and looked like his fist punching a soap bubble that somehow was filled with meat and blood. He spun away from the first starkalf, becoming a spinning fury of fists, kicks, elbows and knees. With each impact, a starkalf popped, Michael only stopping after he had hit the last one of the group of a dozen.
As Michael came to a stop at the far end of the flesh market, he realized that he made a horrible mistake, he was still human, and still had the inner ear of a human, an inner ear that was full of liquid that just experienced such violent acceleration, there was only one outcome that could be expected. Michael collapsed to the ground in extreme vertigo, and vomited on the cobblestones before promptly passing out in the puddle of vomit.
