The task seemed far from easy, Lucan thought as he shook his head. With unabashed cheek, he asked, "So, do I get a newbie gift pack, big shot? Like making me a demigod straight off, or perhaps a powerful artifact? You can't expect me to challenge the gods empty-handed."
"Not just you, I will summon others as well. It's impossible to simply grant you power; you must discover the path to transcendence on your own," the orb's response was akin to a miserly boss demanding you bring your own pen and paper to work.
"How about a blessing of good fortune, then? You can't plan for me to overthrow twelve deities, only to follow in their footsteps to gain strength. If I succeed, won't I just become the new deity?" Lucan continued to fish for benefits.
"That's possible. Stretch out your finger," the orb seemed persuaded.
Lucan presented his left index finger, and with a mere touch from the orb's 'head,' a warm stream flowed from his fingertip, circled his body, and vanished at his forehead.
He didn't feel any different, though. His mind clearer, sure, but no surge of strength, no ability to emit energy waves. "You didn't mess this up, right?" he asked, doubtful.
"No. Once you acquire extraordinary powers, you will understand. Your future magical affinity will allow you to forge a path to the Origin without relying on any of the twelve factions, reaching deeper than they've ever gone," the orb promised grandly.
"Is that all?" Lucan pressed.
"Your soul is not of this world; you were not born from the Origin. Thus, you can assimilate the diverse powers of the twelve factions, though this comes with a greater burden: the risk of losing control or becoming a puppet to one of the gods."
Losing control? Puppet? Those terms hardly bode well. Lucan tried to see the silver lining—this essentially made him a wild card, versatile for any play.
"What instant options do I have to bolster myself now?" he probed further.
"There are options, but you can only choose one. The greater the benefit, the higher the risk," the orb conceded, and Lucan smugly thought he might have the makings of a cunning businessman after all.
"What are the choices?"
"A Potion of Strength, granting you immense endurance and strength but at the cost of a shorter lifespan and accelerated aging." A green vial appeared in the orb's newly formed hand, labeled with a muscle-bulging arm.
Shortened lifespan? A definite no for Lucan, who had come close enough to death recently to value life dearly.
The orb seemed to understand his reluctance and with a flick of its hand, the green vial vanished, replaced by a red one with a heart on it.
"A Potion of Charm. It will boost your allure, making you irresistible to women and a social butterfly. The downside: masculine features will diminish over time, leading to an increasingly androgynous appearance."
Next, please. That sounded like a potion for instant celebrity status, but the side effects were troubling, and the benefits useless for his current predicament.
"Next is the Potion of Luck, it can save your life in a dire moment, but you will accumulate bad luck over time to balance this fortune." Now a purple vial appeared, marked with a golden pound symbol.
Lucan was tempted, but the downside was significant. "Are there any other options?"
"The Potion of Wisdom will enhance your mental and logical faculties, but as your power grows, you will lose your capacity to feel love," a blue vial with a brain emblem materialized.
The choice was obvious. The perks were all positive, the side effect negligible. What was love to him but a distant concept? Lucan, a nearly thirty-year bachelor, was unfazed.
"That's the one. Do I drink it or mix it with water?" he quipped.
"Drink. The potion only affects the first to taste the drop; the rest is just filler," the orb replied.
Filler? So this was like those health product promotions where the useful part was but a fraction of the whole, Lucan mused but swiftly reached for the blue vial.
Pop! The cap came off with a fizz, bubbles escaping from within. He closed his eyes and gulped down the potion.
Bitter! A soul-penetrating bitterness surged from his stomach in waves, accompanied by the carbonation, nearly making him regurgitate last night's dinner.
As the bitterness subsided, a tingling sensation spread through his body—a mix of itchiness and relief.
"Big shot, I need to find my own path to transcendence now, right?" Lucan felt his thoughts becoming sharper.
"Correct. Your first task is to discover how to become transcendent. Complete this and you may ask two questions as a newbie reward."
The orb provided him with immediate goals—no longer was he aimless.
"So, how do I contact you if I need to later?"
"A congregation will be convened periodically. Once you've attained transcendence, I'll summon you. By then, there will be new recruits." The orb's emotionless voice echoed in his mind.
Zap! A blue spark crackled at his fingertips, and the tingling subsided.
"It seems you've adapted well to the Potion of Wisdom. You may leave now." The orb seemed to be ushering him out.
"Hold on, orb—or should I say, boss—any parting advice?" Lucan sought one last bit of value.
"Do not trust anyone's words blindly. Learn to judge for yourself. Even if their intentions seem pure, they might only be speaking from their personal viewpoint. The path you walk may very well set you against the world."
After imparting this counsel, the orb waved, and the entire library—or palace—collapsed inward from the gesture. When Lucan opened his eyes next, he was back in his rented apartment.
Survival comes first, he pondered for a moment, having found a path home.
First, he had to assume Elyon's identity, then seek the means to transcend. Otherwise, he'd never see the orb—or rather, the boss—again.
Lying in bed, his mind buzzed with questions. What was the nature of the orb? How to become transcendent? What about the different magical affinities? The twelve paths to godhood? Or carving out a thirteenth? And what exactly was the Iron Epoch?
As these quandaries spun in his head, Lucan tried to drift off to sleep. Come morning, he would be Elyon, determined to live well in this era where science and the supernatural coexisted.
In the morning, the nascent sun poured sunlight through the window. Sounds of soft footsteps and morning routines drifted up from below. That reminded him, he shared a two-story apartment with three other classmates. The upper floor housed their individual bedrooms.
Downstairs, there was a communal washroom, kitchen, and a combined dining and living room, with the washroom right below his room.
Time to rise and seek the first step on the long march home—discover the means to become transcendent. Elyon reaffirmed his resolve.