NOVEL NEXT B2 - Chapter 20: "A New Perspective."
Jeremiah leaned back, the chair's old wood groaning beneath his weight, and let his eyes wander through the sunlit hush of the Menagerie. Gold light streamed in through the front windows, pooling across polished floors and washing the shelves in gentle warmth. He cradled his empty mug, the ceramic still holding a trace of heat, as if some small comfort could be coaxed from it. The shop was calm, but inside, his thoughts spun like dust in a sunbeam.
At the edge of his vision, the System's skill windows flickered — silent, insistent, and impossibly patient. Each choice waited for him, heavy with the quiet promise of change. What kind of person did he want to become? Who would he be, after he pressed that final confirmation?
He glanced at Billy. The little kraken's tentacles were wound into lazy spirals along the glass, golden eyes steady and watchful, reflecting back the question Jeremiah could hardly voice. There was power in Tentacular Reach; a gleeful, simple kind of strength, the idea that he could grasp farther, act faster, seize what he needed from out of reach. Rapid Regeneration held a different appeal, the comfort of knowing that wounds, no matter how deep, would fade as if they'd never been.
But comfort wasn't what he needed most. Not now.
What Jeremiah needed more than anything was adaptability. The kind of resilience that lets you survive both the quiet, peaceful hours in the Menagerie and the chaos that lurked just beyond its walls: thieves with nimble fingers, Gifted with their own hidden tricks, beasts from the Wilds that played by no one's rules. Trouble that wore a hundred faces. He would never be able to predict what he might face next, much less face it with brute force alone.
He let his gaze drift back to the waiting skill windows. Nerve Net hovered at the top, its description simple and unadorned: distributed reflexes, passive defenses, the kind of subtle armor that shielded you not from blows, but from being blindsided. It wasn't a weapon, but a safety net against the sorts of dangers that muscles — or even magic — might miss.
It wasn't outwardly flashy. But it was a beginning, a quiet foundation. The sort of power you built a life around. The sort of defense that grew stronger, layer by careful layer, as your world widened and the threats at its edge grew stranger.
In another life, maybe he'd have chosen something else. Something that made him faster or harder to kill. But now, between the calming weight of his uniform and the subtle edge of his User Skill, it felt like the missing piece. The last puzzle fragment that would let him face what came next — whatever that turned out to be.
He took a breath, slow and steady, letting the decision settle deep in his chest like morning sunlight soaking into old boards. Then, with a flicker of will, he locked in the skill.
"Good choice," Mero said quietly, wings barely stirring. "It's not the kind of thing you notice, not right away. But the day you need it, you'll be glad it's there."
Jeremiah didn't answer right away. Instead, he let his attention linger on the empty slot on his skill list. A quiet smile played at the corner of his lips.
He studied the options again, eyes flicking over each description, weighing their promises and their limits. The urge to simply pick the most obvious power was there, tugging at the edges of his resolve. But it was Distributed Instinct that kept drawing his gaze, pulling him back with every pass.
The skill's description was brief, but it hinted at something deeper: instincts scattered throughout the body, reflexes that could move before the mind caught up, the quiet intelligence of muscle and nerve acting in tandem. Even in the worst case — when magic, venom, or surprise left him reeling — his body would have its own kind of wisdom, a silent safety net woven into every nerve.
Combined with Nerve Net, the synergy was undeniable. If Nerve Net was the anchor, Distributed Instinct would be the current, flowing and adapting beneath the surface. There was a certain poetry to it: mind and body, each supporting the other, each making up for what the other lacked.
But what truly set it apart — and what pricked at his curiosity — was that single, elusive keyword: Growth.
He'd seen it before, just once, on his User Skill, "Tempered By The Waves." That skill had made it clear how it could change and develop by absorbing various compatible energies. With Distributed Instinct, the path was murkier. The System gave no hint of how it might grow, or what form that growth would take.
Jeremiah found himself leaning in, scanning the description for some hidden clue. A skill that could change with him, adapting to whatever he became. Wasn't that exactly what he was looking for? The possibility was too compelling to ignore.
He drew a slow, steadying breath. In a way, it was a risk. In another, it was the only way forward.
His thumb hovered over the selection for just a moment, then pressed home. Distributed Instinct shimmered on his list, sliding into place beside Nerve Net.
Mero watched from the edge of the table, arms folded, dragonfly wings twitching with a low, curious hum. "So that's your choice, then?" he asked — not doubting, not judging, just… inviting.
Jeremiah nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak just yet. He looked at his own hands, at the faint tremor that ran through his fingers, and exhaled. "Yeah. I think it is."
Mero tilted his head. "Why not the others?" he prompted, gently. "Reach, Regeneration, they'd give you a decent boost. Obvious, immediate power. Isn't that the kind of thing people what? Lotta folks would go for flashier options."
Jeremiah thought it through, letting the silence grow long and honest between them. "Reach and Regeneration… they're good. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tempted. But they're both narrow. They solve one kind of problem really well, but leave me exposed everywhere else. I don't have enough skill slots to cover every gap yet — not unless Billy levels up again, and I'm not about to gamble on that happening soon."
He met Mero's gaze, his voice gaining conviction as he spoke. "Distributed Instinct and Nerve Net — they aren't as obvious, but together? They close more gaps than anything else I can take. They don't just react for me — they protect me from the stuff I can't see coming. The kinds of things that take you out before you even know there's a fight."
Mero grunted, nodding. "Fair enough. But you know Distributed Instinct comes with its own problems. Wouldn't be fun if your hand started wondering why it wasn't the one in charge", Mero laughed, his tone was light, but the warning in it was real.
Jeremiah smiled, the expression rueful and a little wild. "Maybe. But that's the risk I'll have to take. Besides, this Growth seems like something I can't ignore." He tapped the description on the screen, letting his finger hover over the line that had caught him from the start. "It's only the second time we've seen that tag. The first was 'Tempered By The Waves,' my User Skill. If Distributed Instinct can actually grow with me, learn, and change as I do… that's a foundation, Mero. That's not just a skill, that's potential. If I'm going to keep up with everything Sarah left behind, everything the city's throwing at me… I need that kind of edge."
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Mero was silent for a moment, eyes glinting with something like pride. Then his grin broadened, lopsided and genuine. "Can't say it's a bad call." Mero's voice suddenly became more serious, "Just don't forget — sometimes what you grow into isn't always what you expect."
A ghost of a smile tugged at Jeremiah's lips. "Story of my life."
He looked down at the interface. Both skills hovered in the virtual cart, pulsing with anticipation. His heart thudded once, twice, before he took one last steadying breath and selected Confirm.
——————❇——————
Congratulations, User!
Skill(s) Acquired:
[Nerve Net] — Passive
[Distributed Instinct] — Passive (Growth)
Initializing installation… Please remain seated.
——————❇——————
Jeremiah felt a cold, tingling rush surge up his spine. The world lurched — his vision fracturing into bright, geometric shards — and for a brief, impossible instant, he was aware of every nerve in his body firing in wild, perfect synchrony. Then everything snapped, sharp as a rubber band, and the shop spun out from under him.
He tried to speak, to call out to Billy or Mero, but the world was already slipping away, his body going boneless as the System's installation seized hold. Light roared in his head, drowning out all sound.
And then Jeremiah Bridge slumped sideways over the table, coffee cooling at his elbow, eyes fluttering closed as the dawn crept quietly across the floor.
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Jeremiah woke with a gasp, the world coming back in disjointed flashes of warmth and blinding light. At first, the only sensation was discomfort — a throbbing, full-body ache, not sharp but bone-deep and insistent, as if every inch of him had been stretched, twisted, and set back again. He blinked at the rough-hewn beams overhead, vision swimming, before realizing he wasn't on the shop's floor. The walls around him were honeyed pine, the tiny window set above a narrow cot letting in sunlight striped with leaves. For a moment, the air was still but for his ragged breath.
He propped himself up on his elbows, nearly overbalancing as a wave of vertigo swept through him. The familiar little log cabin of the "staff lounge" smelled faintly of cedar and old tea. His coat was folded over the back of a chair. Someone had left a glass of water on the table beside him, beads of condensation dripping down its side.
He swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut, but the world refused to steady. Instead, something else asserted itself. A strange, diffuse awareness that ran deeper than skin or thought. He could feel, with uncanny clarity, the soft give of the mattress under his ribs, the flutter of his pulse at his wrist, the minute shifts in his breathing. The world tilted, his own body suddenly strange and unfamiliar. There was a difference to everything that made it hard to put into words.
Before, he'd always felt like a mind tucked away in a skull, issuing commands to arms and legs that answered with clumsy, delayed obedience. Even if he had never truly been aware of it.
Now, that distance was gone. It was as if there was no longer any clear border between mind and flesh; every part of him felt vividly, unmistakably him — as if he'd been living in a single room of a sprawling house, and now all the doors were open at once.
The sensation was dizzying, almost vertiginous, and more than a little unsettling. But there was a strange comfort to it too, a sense of completeness that he'd never known was missing.
What unsettled him most, though, was the new awareness humming in the background — a full inventory of everything his body was doing at every moment. His heartbeat, the churn of his lungs, the release of some chemical or hormone — he could feel it all if he focused, not as a flood of distraction, but as a series of neatly organized status updates that he could request from his autonomic nervous system at will.
It was like being handed a control panel for a machine he'd never realized he'd been running on autopilot. Perhaps more concerning was the realization that he now had total control over that machine.
That at any moment, he could willingly stop the blink of a reflex, or shut down a muscle, or choke off a nerve. He could even stop the very beating of his own heart with the same ease as flexing a finger.
The knowledge made his throat tighten in something like panic, but he pressed it back — forcefully, as if slamming a door in his own mind. He didn't want to think about it. Not now.
He tried to sit up properly, but his limbs felt uncoordinated, as if each were running its own experiment in movement. His left arm jerked upward at the wrong angle, while his right foot twitched sideways. It was like trying to pat his head and rub his belly, but a hundred times worse.
"Easy there, superstar." A familiar voice floated from somewhere above and behind his head, warm and full of wry amusement. "Don't rush it. Ya just gave yer whole nervous system a major date. Takes a bit to break in the new wiring."
Jeremiah craned his neck and found Mero, stretched out luxuriously in a hammock strung between two old lantern hooks, wings half-furled in the lazy patchwork of sunlight. The fairy looked insufferably comfortable, one hand behind his head and the other spinning a tiny, iridescent top on his stomach.
"What…?" Jeremiah started, but his tongue felt thick, his jaw refusing to move in quite the right way. He tried again, with more success. "What happened? Why am I—?" He gestured weakly at the walls.
Mero's eyes twinkled. "Ya went lights-out, Jerry. Full system crash. Lucky for you, Lewis was close by — I flagged him down and he hauled ya out here. Its been a couple of hours, at least. Had him watch the store, keep the animals from staging a coup."
Several hours. Jeremiah's mind reeled, counting back — he'd collapsed at what, mid-morning? The pale gold outside looked like late afternoon. Panic flared, but he forced himself to breathe.
"And… what was that? I didn't think the skills could—" He searched for the word, one hand fluttering in the air.
Mero sat up in his hammock, wings flicking. "They usually can't," he said, with a slow, careful smile. "But you got ambitious. Stacked two skills that both like to dig deep into the operating system, so to speak. Their interaction caused a little… resonance. Amplified both beyond what a plain human brain's set up for. Yer mind needed to rewire itself on the fly, or ya'd have been in shambles."
Jeremiah's breath caught. "You told me the Beast Skills couldn't hurt me," he said, sharper than he intended. "That's what you said. 'No harm to the user.'"
Mero grinned, spreading his hands. "Who said anything about harm? Yer not hurt. Bit scrambled, sure, but nothing permanent." He gestured at Jeremiah, still sprawled awkwardly on the cot. "You'll be back on your feet in no time. Well, if ya can convince yer arms and legs to cooperate."
Jeremiah scowled, bracing himself with shaking hands. "You have a funny definition of 'not harmful.'"
Instead of rising to the bait, Mero just jerked his chin toward the foot of the cot. "Don't take my word for it. Check yer stats."
Jeremiah narrowed his eyes but pulled up his status screen.
——————✴——————
〖Jeremiah Bridge〗
Distinction: ☆
System Authority: Standard User
User Grade: F - 1.2
Mental - (G): 7
Physical - (G): 5
Supernatural - (G): 0
User Skills: [2/5] [✚]
User Equipment: N/A
Quantum Marks: 320
Active Bonds:
Attunements - [3/3]
Contracts - [1/1]
Pacts - [0/0]
——————✴——————
Jeremiah's jaw dropped, the old, familiar System overlay painting the air before his eyes. He had to blink several times before the numbers resolved, but there was no mistaking it — his Mental stat had jumped three full points, sitting now at a clean seven. He'd vaulted past Physical for the first time, and the header gleamed with a fresh, unmistakable badge: F-Grade.
He laughed — a wild, incredulous sound, more breath than voice. The feeling that followed was something close to euphoria. After everything, after the fear and the pain and the risk, he'd done it. He'd finally crossed the threshold.
Before he could fully savor the moment, a burst of sharp voices cut through the stillness, muffled by the thick cabin door. Jeremiah tensed, nerves singing, as the shouts rose — too loud, too urgent to ignore. He caught the distant snap of a familiar accent — Lewis, maybe, and another voice he didn't recognize, pitched high with frustration.
Mero cocked his head, wings stilled mid-beat. "Sounds like the afternoon rush has started without you."
Jeremiah swung his legs over the side of the cot, steadier this time, his newfound awareness bristling with adrenaline and the aftershocks of transformation. The ache was already fading, replaced by a sense of lightness — a readiness to move, to act. He glanced at Mero, who just shrugged, all innocent encouragement.
"Best get a move on, shopkeep. Looks like the Menagerie still needs you."