Charles lay back on the bed, idly flipping through a biography of Howard Martinsen, a man hailed as a brilliant mind who had changed the world. He had taken to reading the volume out of sheer boredom in this "special room" designed to shield him from the influence of Grand Vitalis entities. To Charles, however, it felt very much like an upscale prison cell.
He turned a page leisurely, delving deeper into Martinsen's life. This remarkable figure had not only propelled his own homeland into a golden age of progress but had journeyed abroad to share advanced knowledge with various realms. Through his mastery of medicine, biology, engineering, and geology, Martinsen had helped solve countless social and environmental problems across many lands.
Martinsen's homeland—Sarnia—had evolved into a technological and medical powerhouse, outpacing other countries by over a century. Steam-driven machines thrived there, and Sarnia boasted the finest medical system in the world. Their development surged ahead with astonishing speed, marked by inventive breakthroughs and the nurturing of specialists in an unparalleled environment.
Charles smiled faintly as he reached the part where Martinsen was accused of being a "dangerous genius" by conservative groups in multiple countries that couldn't keep pace with his revolutionary ideas. His progressive outlook sowed division and fear, leaving many worried that such new technologies would shatter old ways of life and undercut established power structures.
Reading on, Charles's thoughts began to wander:
'How could the other nations allow Sarnia to run so far ahead? Why didn't anyone send spies to learn their technology or steal their secrets? If less advanced countries saw how quickly Sarnia was pulling away, it would be reckless not to try replicating or developing similar advancements themselves...'
He turned another page, though part of his mind lingered on these questions.
'And even more puzzling, why hasn't Sarnia—given its vast edge in technology and weaponry—ever used that advantage to invade or conquer? With such a lead in weapons, they could easily have expanded their territory if they chose war. Yet they never tried. Why is that?'
"Why indeed..." Charles muttered under his breath, the hush of the cell causing his own voice to echo faintly in his ears. He rested his head against the pillow, flipping the book over and mulling over these puzzles.
A knock at the door rang out softly but distinctly against the stillness. Charles glanced up from his book. The familiar voice of Edward Cavendish came from beyond as the door opened, sending Charles's heart thumping.
"Your request has been approved," Edward declared the moment he entered. There was a tense gravity in his expression. "You are permitted to undergo an Ascension."
Charles froze, momentarily stunned. His heart fluttered in disbelief.
'How is that possible?' he wondered. 'I'm not even a full citizen of this kingdom—only been living here for two years, ever since that strange shipwreck... So why have they agreed to my petition?'
He recalled once again the dreamlike sequence of that shipwreck, the fateful event that had stranded him in this land. Why indeed had they chosen to grant his request now?
He decided not to voice the question out loud.
Edward stood in front of him, face composed, and began to outline the choice Charles must make.
"At this moment, our special division has three different Superhuman-level Soulstones available," Edward stated carefully. "What you pick will determine the nature of your Ascension, and there is no going back once it's done."
Charles listened intently as Edward described each potential power—and its terrifying drawbacks.
"First," Edward said, "the Mutant path. Its previous wielder had unnatural regenerative abilities, able to heal severe injuries, even reattaching or regrowing severed limbs. Along with that came tremendous physical strength."
Edward met Charles's eyes, his voice turning cold. "But the price is hunger—an insatiable craving for flesh and blood. The closer that flesh is to human, the more it quells the hunger. If you cannot feed that appetite..."
He paused briefly. "Your body will begin to twist into something monstrous, losing both mind and form. In the worst cases, you turn into a lump of warped cells, helplessly awaiting death."
Charles frowned at the savage consequences of that power. Without giving him time to react, Edward pressed on to the second option.
"Second, the Neuro-Melder—the same power type that I possess," Edward noted in a calm, steady tone that betrayed a deep understanding of its dangers. "It allows you to manipulate or distort another's mind—make them forget what they meant to do or hyperfixate on something else for a while."
He paused again before continuing. "But it will also try to consume you from within. It stirs a constant thirst to devour the intellect of other thinking beings, siphoning it in order to ease the strain on your own mind. If you fail to feed it, it will feed on your own consciousness until you are hollowed out. You'd become a living husk, incapable of awareness or response, as though dead while still breathing."
Charles felt a chill in Edward's voice, imagining that Edward himself must have struggled against that hunger.
"Third," Edward said, "the Arbiter of Order—similar to what Joseph wields. You can impose simple rules on the area around you, such as commanding people to freeze, or setting conditions they must follow."
"However, these rules only affect physical reality. They can't alter anyone's mind or override supernatural powers. The more complex a rule becomes, the more energy it consumes."
"Yet the danger is this: the power will stir a dictatorial urge within you—the desire to bend others under your will. If you let it fester, it can drive you to violent extremes just to fulfill those impulses. Your only relief is to cautiously satisfy the power's demands, ensuring it never overwhelms you."
"But if you resist too hard and fail to satisfy that thirst, you will be forced to enforce rules on yourself and everyone around you. Eventually, you could become a slave to the laws you created, trapped in a cycle of self-imposed conditions with no free will left—no thoughts of your own, only the endless constraints you must obey."
Edward finished explaining, then fell silent, letting Charles absorb it all.
"You must choose carefully," Edward said. "Once you decide, Joseph will bring you the chosen Soulstone, and the ritual will begin right away."
Charles stared at Edward, mind racing. Each power was formidable; each carried a steep and fearsome price.
After a moment, Charles spoke with a calm yet inquiring tone. "What if... I choose all three?"
Edward's expression sharpened. A flicker of something akin to caution flared in his eyes, almost as though he had predicted this question. "Impossible," he stated firmly. "You can handle only one. Attempting to take more than that would destroy you outright."
He stepped closer, his voice somber. "There are old records of individuals who attempted to merge two powers at once... but the odds of survival are next to none. You would be safer trying to survive a slashed throat left untreated than trying to hold two Ascendant powers in your body."
The finality of his words was undeniable, and Charles grasped their gravity at once.
'Well, that's that,' he thought, expelling a short breath. 'I have to pick a single power—one whose costs I can live with. But which one fits me best?'
His mind drifted first to the Mutant option, drawn by its appeal. Regeneration, to the point of reattaching or even regrowing limbs, along with enormous raw strength.
'It's nearly immortal, right? I wouldn't have to fear injury or death. Everything could heal...'
Yet his imagination swiftly turned to the darker side: a craving for living flesh. If unmet, the body would warp or devolve into a mindless creature, or something worse.
'It's tempting... but so dangerous. Could I trust myself to keep it under control?'
He pushed that concern aside and considered the Arbiter of Order.
'Issuing commands, compelling people to follow my rules—there's a certain thrill to that.'
He recalled Joseph's abilities: with only a few words, Joseph could halt a dire situation, commanding everyone to freeze on the spot. It was immensely useful in emergencies, capable of controlling entire groups quickly.
'If I had that, I could manage almost any crisis. People would have no choice but to obey my rules...'
Yet a cold twinge niggled at him.
'Would I end up a puppet to my own laws, forced to keep imposing them until I can't move or think freely?'
Lastly, he weighed the Neuro-Melder, influencing others' minds and perceptions, making them forget or focus on something else entirely.
'That's infiltration into the psyche itself.'
He considered how potent it could be, a subtle manipulative tool that might be used for investigations, subterfuge, or persuasion. But abruptly, his thoughts snagged on something...
'Wait a minute!'