Tracing the Flame
Peering over Edith's shoulder, Lucas catches sight of the newcomers who have just arrived. Many of their faces are familiar, including the men who had laughed at him at the supermarket.
'Isn't that Kell?' he muses. It's surprising to see those muscular men in this building, considering it's primarily inhabited by non-active members.
He disregards their presence, his attention drawn to more pressing matters. As he listens to the subdued discussions and the escalating argument between Aunt Edith and Uncle William, Lucas's brow furrows.
'What's going on?' he wonders, piecing together the puzzle from the wet bed, the damp floor, and the double holes in the corpse's body.
A surge of fury courses through him. The realization of what Lucy must have endured ignites his anger. Lucas, who prides himself on his emotional restraint, finds it hard to hide his somber expression, down-turned mouth, and narrowed eyes.
"Fine! So, what if I killed him? Do you actually think I could? I'm not even physically fit. And besides, doesn't he have those system-level enhancements? You think someone as weak as me could pull it off?" Edith's tired voice reaches his ears amid their ongoing argument. Even William appears drained.
As they continue to argue, Lucas's ears remain attuned to their exchange. He senses the weight of William's burden, dealing with his brother's death and suspecting his own friend, who seemingly stands out as the prime suspect. Lucas empathizes with the complexity of his predicament.
"Enough, Edith! Everyone, leave!" William's forceful command prompts Lucas and the other pallid individuals to exit the room hastily. His teeth chatter, his emotions in turmoil.
'I can't stay here any longer,' Lucas thinks, his steps leading him back to his room. His gaze shifts to Lucy, thoughts drifting to the skirt he had seen earlier.
"That's infuriating!" His usually composed demeanor shatters, replaced by seething anger. He feels as if his closest friend has been violated before his very eyes.
"I should have stayed with her," he regrets, internalizing the guilt of not being by her side when she needed him most. While the discovery of ghouls and the mysterious building is inevitable, the trauma they've experienced is far more difficult to erase. After all, Lucas carries his own scars.
Lucas walks over to his bed and collapses onto the pillow, unmindful of his dirty body. The base, and his perception of William, have both crumbled before him like shattered glass. The argument he overheard exposes that William was well aware of his brother's character, but never took the initiative to correct him.
'Aunt Edith was right,' Lucas muses, his disappointment palpable. How could one of the base's crucial members act in such a manner towards Lucy? It's a harsh realization that being perceived as weak can lead to such degradation. Lucas had held onto the belief that William was a decent person, only to be let down.
"Must we always hide our abilities?" he ponders. Despite the tense circumstances, dinner had been a rare enjoyable moment, a break from the prevailing gloom. Before he returned to his room, someone informed Lucas that they were currently searching for the murderer, advising him to stay inside.
"None of us are even under suspicion," Lucas reflects with mixed emotions. It's a strange predicament – he's torn between laughter and frustration. The possibility of someone discovering their abilities looms, and paranoia becomes a natural state.
But Lucas can't shake his anger. He gathers the items hidden under his bed, stashing them back into his pouches. His mind is preoccupied with thoughts of leaving this place.
"We need to move on," he thinks, his sigh echoing his concern. This marks the second time they've spent only a day at a base before feeling the urge to depart.
"Perhaps large groups aren't suitable for us," Lucas considers, pondering their transient nature.
"I have to get stronger. Trusting anyone else seems increasingly difficult," he resolves, casting a glance at the ring on his finger. He's already reached Tier 1 in the system, yet little seems to have changed.
"Oh, right…," he recalls suddenly. Extracting the class book, he had obtained from the class change building, Lucas retrieves his magnifier and begins examining its contents. As before, most of the information remains obscured by question marks, frustratingly uninformative.
Until his magnifier reaches the second-to-last book in his stack – a book adorned with the symbol of a phoenix, looking no different from the others. In an instant, his emotions shift like a flipped switch. The negative mood gives way to a positive surge as a familiar interface materializes before him.
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[First Condition Met: Reaching Tier 1!]
[Displaying information!]
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To Lucas's delight, he realizes that he no longer needs the magnifier to view the book's information. The screen before him displays a series of lines, signaling an exciting power-up.
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Name: Fireball Control Skill Book
Rank: Rare
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[Second Condition Met: Having 20 Int Stats Point!]
[Showing Requirement!]
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[Third Condition Met: Having the God of Fire and Heat Class!]
[Would you like to learn this skill?]
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Who could resist a free offer? Without hesitation, Lucas enthusiastically selects "yes," not minding the requirements for learning the skill.
The instant he confirms, a surge of heat engulfs his body, raising his temperature to a point of slight dizziness. Although there's no pain, Lucas can sense energy flowing in and out of his body through every pore of his skin, causing him to struggle on the bed. Fortunately, he'd remained lying down, preventing a potential fall and head injury.
Bearing the sensation of silence, Lucas waits for the overwhelming feeling to subside.
"Should've checked that book after reaching Tier 1... I wouldn't have struggled so much with just one ghoul," he reflects, a realization that dawns on him during these intense minutes.
After about five minutes, his body returns to its normal state, yet now he feels the presence of fire within his hand. His mind becomes a canvas for the flames of knowledge, teaching him the art of control.
While he can only sense it, for now, Lucas isn't disappointed – the sensation is bearable. Guided by an intuition akin to a gut feeling, he subtly maneuvers the warm energy in his hand, conjuring a fireball. It amuses him that his first class-gained ability isn't controlling fire in general, but a basic skill often found in fantasy RPG games – the fireball.
Creating the fireball feels like extracting something from within him, resulting in a small, harmless orb of flames in his palm. Gazing at the fireball, he then shifts his focus to Lucy.
"When she wakes up, I should tell her about this. It might boost her spirits," he considers, a newfound sense of purpose bubbling within him.
Messing around with the fireball in his palm, Lucas notices a strain on his eyes from staring too intently at the bright flames.
Despite being within the confines of his room, the cacophony outside was audible, indicating that a peaceful night's sleep might be a distant dream for many.
Attempting to manipulate the fire, making it float instead of darting around like playful specters, Lucas's fireball descends to the floor, scorching it before vanishing entirely, leaving behind a black mark on the ground.
In response, Lucas releases a sigh of embarrassment, his disappointment palpable as he readies himself for another attempt.
'The auto-aim ability seems much more appealing; at least accuracy wouldn't be an issue then. This is proving to be quite challenging.'
Undeterred, he summons his strength for a second effort, which feels like his energy is seeking escape, soaring into the sky. This time, the fireball takes on the size of a softball. Lucas concentrates all his might on controlling it, knowing that any misstep could potentially engulf his bedding and floor in flames.
Concentrating hard, he envisions the fireball levitating on its own, and within a few seconds, it too succumbs to gravity and descends.
A sense of hopelessness washes over him, accompanied by a deep disappointment.
'This is far from easy.'
Setting aside his endeavors for now, he walks over to the spot where the fireball made contact with the floor, carefully gauging its residual heat while attempting to clean the singed mark.
"Whoa, that's seriously hot!"
A wry smile forms on his lips as a thought crosses his mind.
'I could practically use this as a portable cooking flame. Did I just acquire a fire-powered cooking tool?'
Agreeing with himself, Lucas nods, his face taking on a contemplative expression.
'Well, I am the only one who can cook around here, after all.'