The Fractured Power

The tremor in reality faded.

But the unease in my chest did not.

For a long moment, I stood there, my golden veins pulsing faintly beneath my skin, my senses stretched outward, searching. Whatever I had felt—it was distant, but real.

Something had noticed the change.

But what?

I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to push the thought aside. There were more immediate problems.

The city was still standing, but barely. The battle had left it scarred—walls broken, streets in ruins, homes reduced to dust. Survivors moved through the wreckage, carrying wood, stone, anything that could be used to rebuild.

And I could do nothing.

Not because I didn't want to.

Because I couldn't.

I had rewritten reality itself, erased something that should never have existed, wielded a power that defied all logic.

And yet—

I couldn't even lift a single darn rock with it.

I clenched my fists, staring down at my hands. The golden glow flickered there, just beneath the surface, like a caged flame. It was inside me—I could feel it, pulsing, waiting.

But it didn't answer me.

It didn't respond.

I couldn't access it.

It had been there when I was fighting for my life. When everything was on the line.

But now?

Now, it was like it wasn't even mine.

I wasn't fully compatible.

I wasn't fully Aetherii.

And no one—no one in the entire world—could help me fix it.

Because no one else was like me.

I was alone in this.

I exhaled sharply, pushing the thought down. Focus. If I couldn't rely on my powers, I'd do what I could without them.

I stepped forward, toward the city ruins.

Toward the people who needed help.

The city—if it could still be called that—was barely more than rubble and desperation.

People moved through the wreckage with dull, exhausted eyes. The dead had been buried, but the grief still hung over them like a storm that refused to break.

And yet, they still worked.

Stone by stone. Piece by piece.

They were survivors.

And I was going to help.

I walked toward the group struggling to lift a fallen beam, rolling up my sleeves. The moment they saw me, the air shifted.

Not with fear. Not with hostility.

With hesitation.

Like they weren't sure what to do with me.

I didn't blame them. I had torn reality apart in front of them.

I was something unknown.

Still, I wasn't going to let that stop me. I stepped up to the wreckage, meeting their wary gazes.

"Need a hand?"

There was a pause. A brief flicker of uncertainty.

Then, finally, one of the older men gave a slow nod. "If you're offering."

I grinned slightly. "That's why I asked."

And just like that—I worked.

No golden energy. No impossible power.

Just my own two hands.

I lifted wood, cleared stone, helped rebuild what had been lost. The work was tiring, but I welcomed it.

Because it grounded me.

Because for once, I wasn't something impossible.

I was just a person, doing what he could.

And strangely, that was enough.

The city wasn't big—at least, not anymore. But there were still people.

And I was finally meeting them.

One of the first was Revik. A man built like a wall, his arms as thick as my torso. He had been one of the warriors defending the city—one of the few who had survived. He didn't say much, just nodded at me in quiet acknowledgment as we worked side by side, lifting debris.

Then there was Lena, an older woman who had lost her home in the attack. Despite everything, she carried herself with a sharp, unshaken determination. When I helped her carry what little remained of her belongings, she just gave me a hard look and said, "Took you long enough to wake up."

I smirked. "Yeah. I like my naps."

She snorted but didn't push me away.

But then, there was her.

I didn't know her name at first.

She was just another survivor, working alongside the others. But when I saw her for the first time, I felt my steps falter.

She was… pretty.

Not in the way that made you stop and stare.

In the way that made you want to look twice.

Dark hair pulled back into a loose braid, strands of it escaping to frame her face. Eyes sharp, focused, but not hardened like the others—there was something in them that still felt… soft.

She worked without hesitation, carrying stone, moving supplies, talking with the others.

And I caught myself watching her.

I looked away quickly, shaking off the thought. Not the time, Josh.

Still, I couldn't ignore the way my chest felt a little lighter when I saw her.

Eventually, she noticed me.

She tilted her head slightly, wiping dust from her cheek. "You're the one who fought that thing."

It wasn't a question.

I sighed. "I guess that's what I am now, huh?"

She studied me for a moment, then shrugged. "Could be worse."

I blinked. "What?"

She smirked. "You could've lost."

I let out a breath of laughter, shaking my head. "Yeah. Guess that's true."

She extended a hand. "I'm Elara."

I took it. "Josh."

Her grip was strong. Not in a way that tried to prove something—just steady.

And for some reason, that steadiness made my chest tighten.

I ignored it.

We got back to work.

The hours passed. The city slowly, painfully, came back together.

But the weight inside me only grew heavier.

Because no matter how much I helped, no matter how much I worked—

I could feel it.

The disconnect.

The golden energy inside me wasn't responding.

It was there. It was always there. But I couldn't reach it.

Not unless I was in danger.

Not unless I was facing death.

I gritted my teeth, frustration curling in my chest.

I had done the impossible. I had rewritten reality.

But now?

Now, I couldn't even control my own darn power.

And the worst part?

No one could help me.

No wise mentor. No ancient guide. No answers hidden in some dusty old book.

I was alone in this.

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to keep moving.

Because if I stopped thinking about it, then maybe—

Maybe it wouldn't feel so hopeless.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the city was still broken.

But it was alive.

People gathered around small fires, talking in hushed voices, clinging to the idea that things could go back to normal.

And for the first time since waking up, I felt like I belonged.

I sat near one of the fires, listening to Revik grumble about broken supplies, watching Lena scold a group of younger kids for running too close to unstable structures.

Elara sat across from me, her expression unreadable, her fingers tracing patterns in the dirt.

The golden light still pulsed inside me.

Unreachable.

But for now—

For now, that was okay.

Because for the first time in a long time—

I wasn't alone.