tryingwrite

Jack Wilson wasn’t planning to doom the city. He just wanted to make rent and maybe buy a better hoodie.

Then he opened a cursed file labeled “DO NOT OPEN (Lethality Rating: 9/10)”—because what’s life without a little fun? One explosion, a glowing hand tattoo, and a ramen-scented dumpster dive later, Jack is now the host of something ancient, powerful, and probably homicidal.

Now everyone wants him dead: secret guilds, rogue mages, even a talking pigeon with a grudge. Too bad Jack’s having the time of his life.

Armed with sarcasm, unstable spirit energy, and zero impulse control, Jack is about to turn the magical underworld upside down.

MANIAC HYBRID

Golden dawn kissed the rooftops of West Hollow as the Chaos Crew slipped out of Satellite Node 7B. The city's power grid flickered back to normal, streetlights dimming one by one. Car alarms chirped in the distance—mundane proof that Dominus was truly offline.

Jack exhaled, steam curling in the early‑morning chill. The Aetherium Heart in Lyra's satchel pulsed a calming teal, its steady rhythm oddly comforting after hours of klaxons and countdowns.

"Status?" Reina asked, scanning the horizon.

Zara checked her visor. "Guild chatter is chaos. No trace of Dominus commands. Ω still inert. We bought breathing room."

Patch fluttered to Jack's shoulder. "And snagged a battery worth more than this district."

Jack managed a crooked grin. "Finally—something rare that actually works in our favor."

They ducked into an abandoned tram depot two blocks away. Broken skylights let in dusty shafts of light; graffiti‑coated cars became makeshift bunkers.

Lyra set the Aetherium Heart on a crate. Its glow filled the depot, powering Zara's gear and heating cans of soup for the rescued test subjects.

Jack collapsed onto a rusted seat. Exhaustion dragged at muscles and mind. The halo on his wrist spun silent—dominant but no longer screaming data.

Reina crouched beside him. "Any new memory loss?"

Jack shut his eyes. Images surfaced: a bunk bed… a birthday cake with seven candles… Kenny—still faceless—but the toy spaceship now vivid: chipped green paint and a missing wing.

"Pieces," Jack murmured. "Enough to remind me what's missing."

Lyra handed him soup. "We'll fill the gaps later. For now—eat."

Across the city, Guild Master Marrick watched emergency reports scroll across a smoked‑glass monitor. Drone feeds showed the charred remains of Node 7B and the blank visor of Ω.

A subordinate mage approached hesitantly. "Dominus protocol terminated, sir. Urban grid returning to municipal control."

Marrick's fingers drummed his desk. "Prepare asset retrieval teams. And locate Valerie Cross—dead or alive."

He stared at a frozen satellite image of Jack and co. exiting the node. "Wilson thinks he's free. But the sky belongs to us."

Back at the depot, Zara connected the Aetherium Heart to a portable workstation. Holographic runes blossomed in mid‑air.

"It's a perpetual spirit capacitor," she explained. "With this I can shield Jack's halo from memory‑drain feedback—maybe even store fragments externally."

Lyra's eyes lit. "A memory vault?"

"Exactly," Zara said. "Plug the halo in nightly, dump the day's data into a stable crystal matrix. Less risk of permanent loss."

Jack flexed aching fingers. "Worth trying. I'd like to remember breakfast tomorrow."

Patch pecked the Heart. "Just don't overcharge it. Those things implode like tiny supernovas if tampered wrong."

Zara smirked. "Relax, bird—I'm the careful one."

Reina snorted. "That is objectively false."

That night the depot fell silent save for the hum of the Heart. Jack lay atop a tram bench, Lyra's hand clasped in his. He watched coded constellations drift behind his eyelids—fewer than before, mercifully.

A lone memory slipped free: a woman's lullaby sung beside an airport window, Jack's small hand pressed to glass as planes blinked on a moonlit runway. Mother? He couldn't see her face. He whispered the hum of the tune, fearing it would fade.

Lyra squeezed his hand. "Sing it again tomorrow," she said drowsily. "We'll record it."

Jack nodded. For the first time in weeks, he drifted to sleep before the memory vanished.

The Aetherium Heart's teal glow pulsed on—rare, steady, and unquestionably alive.

Chapter 21: "Afterglow"