World Filter

Mark sat cross-legged in his hospital bed, inspecting his new wound. Rivets of metal had been clipped into the skin over his chest, bonding to his flesh in a near-seamless manner. It ran along the healed scar, reminiscent of some Frankenstein monster, with heavy purple bruising to complete the look. Mark had woken up a couple of hours ago, and after a flurry of visitors, he could finally breathe. Dozens of people had come to check on him during this time, far more than he had ever expected. Ethel, Karter, and Gibby were the first. But even those whom he barely saw nowadays, like Andy and Sophia, showed up.

He appreciated each visit because Willow, along with Sam, demanded he stay in bed until they were satisfied he was doing well.

Which was ridiculous because he felt fine. His Prana was regenerating well, and closing the remaining rift was just a matter of time. Physically, he could get up and move if he wanted, but he avoided doing so for their sake. They had all been worried about his catatonic state, and he couldn't blame them. He'd explained what had happened to the best of his knowledge, and surprisingly, everyone seemed to take the knowledge in stride. Of course, he only told the more sensitive information to those closest to him.

Now, after everyone had left, Mark once again rubbed at the scar on his chest. He'd discovered that scars caused by soul damage didn't heal in the usual way. Even after pouring in ten times the usual amount of Prana, it hadn't faded at all. It still itched, with the tenderness of a freshly closed wound, but he supposed that was to be expected.

Mark was once more reminded that he had managed to attack someone's soul. A weapon that could not be understated. There was no real defense against this type of attack, unless someone had Prana at least comparable to his own to block him. Or perhaps some skill, but he hadn't heard of anything like that yet.

Mark was startled from his thoughts when the only other person in the room spoke.

"Stop fucking with the stitching, do you know how hard that was to do?" Jonathan asked with a note of displeasure in his voice.

Mark blinked sheepishly. He'd forgotten the man had taken up vigil when Sam needed to go meet Ethel.

Jonathan sat lazily in one of the chairs near the door, his arms crossed and his leg hanging off the side. From what Sam said, Jonathan had come up with the idea of closing his wound. He had been the one to go to the Inscriptionist guild and ask for their assistance. He had then merged their understanding of runes and his skill in crafting to attempt a patch-job. Jessica's team had provided an inscription similar to what they used to repair the walls. As strange as it sounded, it worked because rather than the magic repairing damage, it was broken up into two processes. It first acted as a seal until the damage could be repaired by the will of the inscription.

In Mark's case, they only used the first part by helping him seal off his wound, so they could let him do the rest.

The guild had not given this information away for free. Mark had heard the information had cost a fair amount, but Jonathan had brokered the deal and managed to create something in four days. Mark was incredibly curious as to how he'd done it.

"Sure, Doctor. I'll try not to undo all your hard work. Although I've never had stitches that involved hammering them in." Mark said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Jonathan swallowed and rolled his eyes.

"Look, it got the job done, didn't it? You were out for almost a week," he said in a surprisingly mellow tone.

Mark couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face.

"Alright, well, thank you," Mark said, scratching his neck.

Jonathan snorted.

"You've already said that."

Mark held Jonathan's gaze until he was certain the guy got the message, and then snorted to himself.

"Nothing wrong with saying to again, but fine. Did anything interesting happen while I was out?"

Jonathan sat up now with a more thoughtful expression.

"For the most part, no…but from the sounds of things, almost all of the unbound have been discovered. The Loyalists have already begun offering huge benefits, like protection for them and their families and large injections of Sp."

Mark pursed his lips. They would have gotten here at some point, he had just hoped they'd have a little more time. If the deciding factor was pure resources, they wouldn't stand a chance.

Ethel had already started a campaign to garner their trust, and for the most part we're still a majority, but as far as I know, there will be a day sometime soon that everyone will gather to make their cases, after that I don't see anything stopping us from opening the front door.

Nodding to himself, he realized things were happening fast.

The thing was, there was a more pressing matter at this moment. He'd felt it the moment he'd woken up.

His core.

Mark's Prana had been acting strange, so he'd kept an eye on it. When he took some time to investigate, he discovered his Prana about to hit the last threshold to develop his core. From the way his energy was moving, he could tell it was excited.

The last time he'd checked, his Prana was still a fair ways away from the one-thousand five hundred mark. He was not sure how, but right now he was just fifteen points short of his goal. One more tonic and he'd break his limit. He did not think even Sam or Jonathan were at this stage yet.

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The real problem was once he reached it. There would have to be an enormous amount of Prana in the surrounding area for him to absorb, not to mention that he would have to solidify his core. He'd been practicing for a long while now, but he still wasn't sure he could do it.

Deciding to tell Jonathan this, Mark explained his current dilemma.

Jonathan had sat forward in the chair and interlocked his fingers.

"That makes sense. We were feeding them to you during your coma, as they were the only thing that seemed to meaningfully help you. But recently, Sam noticed that they were getting less and less effective."

Mark frowned, 'less effective'?

Perhaps it had something to do with his injury, or even the fact that he was near the threshold. Regardless, he was thankful it had not come sooner. If he'd been unconscious when his core solidified, he would not have been able to follow the Caretaker's advice.

That is, if he'd survived the process.

"Yeah, but I need to be careful from now on. I'll need to find the right place to do this."

Jonathan rubbed the stubble on his face, his eyes lost in thought.

"So then all we need to do is have a reason to gather a lot of people."

Mark pursed his lips. Jonatan wasn't wrong, but the last time had involved a huge number of people.

Now? Who knew how much Prana he would need?
"We'll need to speak to everyone, see what they think," Mark said as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

Jonathan shook his head.
"Oh no, you don't. Sam will kill me if I let you leave."

Mark's shoulders drooped.
"Come on, would you stay here when there were things you could be doing? I'm fine now. More rest isn't going to change anything."

Jonathan eyed him but stood from the chair anyway.
"I agree, but when has that ever gotten me anywhere? If she comes back here looking for us and we're not here…"

Jonathan visibly shivered—a ridiculous sight, considering he was built like a siege engine and usually grinned while charging into chaos. That a soft-spoken woman like Sam could put the fear of god in him said everything.

But Mark couldn't bring himself to smile at his friend's concern. He knew firsthand what that gentle smile could hide.

Still, time was running short, and sitting around felt wrong. He needed to feel like he was making progress—threats of scolding be damned.

"It'll be fine. I'm thinking of heading back home anyway. Surely she'll be fine with that." he said uncertainly.

Mark stood and walked toward the door. Jonathan's expression turned serious as he stepped forward and placed a firm hand on Mark's chest, halting him.

"Dude, I've said this before, but I need assurances this time. Did you honestly not know what you were doing back there? Were you just being careless?"

The Aura in the air shivered. A sharp sensation trailed down Mark's spine as he felt Jonathan's gaze narrow in concern.

He swallowed, then met his friend's stare.
"Jon, I swear. I never intended for this to happen—it was all instinct. I made a promise to you both, and even though it wasn't intentional, I broke it. So you tell me… how do I make it up to you?"

Jonathan was a head taller, but Mark had never let that intimidate him. He held Jonathan's gaze for what felt like minutes until the cold tension finally eased.

Jonathan scratched the back of his head, thoughtfully.
"I don't know yet. But I'll speak to Sam about it. Come on, let's go," he said, stepping back.

Mark raised an eyebrow, the question in his eye. Jonathan looked more at ease now.

"If you insist on leaving, I'm coming with you. That way, when we're caught, I can point her at you."

Mark waved a hand dismissively.

They stepped into the busy corridor, passing a few other patients and more than a few harried healers. As they left the clinic, Mark paused to ask one of them to pass along his thanks to Willow for her care.

By the time they got back to their building, Mark found that his Prana was regenerating much faster. He subtly expanded a construct over them and checked on Jonathan's condition. Seeing that it was already ninety percent healed, he just tied off a [Regenerate].

Getting onto the elevator to head to the penthouse, they glanced at one another when they felt Sam's presence briefly move above them like a coiling serpent.

Mark swallowed, and when the lift dinged, he had to stop from flinching.

Arriving on the top floor saw an empty hallway with only one figure looming there.

Just like Jonathan had expected a rather pissed looking Samantha waited in the door frame like an immpoveable object.

The only thing it was missing was Sam tapping her foot like some cartoon character.

Yet her eyes carried a righteous fury that was more than enough to make up for it.

"I'm glad you've stretched your legs, Mark. But you should get back to bed now," she said, her tone calm yet firm.

All the while, her casual grin never left her face. Her eyes only strayed from Mark for a second to shoot Jonathan a glare.

"Hang on, I tried to stop him, but he told me there was something he had to tell you," Jonathan said.

Mark's eyes widened as he was thrown to the wolves.

"Uh, yes, I came to explain my current condition-" Mark started, but paused when he felt the Mana in the corridor undulating dangerously.

"Oh? And what exactly is it that you couldn't have waited another couple of hours? For somone who's such a great healer, you're a shit patient" she hissed.

Mark put his hands out in front of himself, doing his best to explain. He'd barely gotten to explain his stats when there was a commotion further in the room.

All three of them paused to listen to the murmurs coming from the make-shift HQ further in the penthouse. Sam eyed the two of them one more time and sighed.

"Come on. Since you're here, you may as well help me find out what's going on," she said as she headed deeper into the room.

Mark let out a rush of air as he sent a withering glance at Jonathan. The man just shrugged at him and followed.

Mark stepped in just as the static cleared, and a voice came through the speakers—measured and slightly formal, the lilt of a Japanese accent unmistakable.

"Hello, this is Yuna. I'm responding to your previous message on behalf of an independent group of civilians. We're looking for any information you might have about the tower that recently appeared in our territory. If you're open to it, we'd be willing to trade information."