Chevie squinted at his reflection in the cracked mirror hanging in the corner of his modest apartment.
His disheveled hair refused to cooperate, sticking up in a rebellious tuft. With a sigh, he ran his fingers through it and gave up halfway.
"Good enough," he muttered.
"Can't scare off anyone if I don't meet anyone."
He turned to the sword propped against the wall—a sleek, unassuming weapon with a faint shimmer running along its edge.
His clone's sword techniques had come back to him like a gift wrapped in confusion and trauma.
Now it just stared at him as if saying, You sure you know what you're doing, buddy?
"Yeah, yeah, I'm getting to it," Chevie grumbled.
He picked it up and gave it a few experimental swings. The movements felt natural, but they carried a strange weight, as if his body still wasn't fully in sync with the memories.
Out of curiosity—and maybe boredom—he decided to test the movement skill his clone had perfected.
Taking a stance, he focused on the mental imprint of Aetherstride, the technique that let him dash in and out of harm's way faster than the blink of an eye.
"Okay, here goes nothing," he said to the empty room.
In a flash, he appeared halfway across the room, colliding with a precarious stack of old pizza boxes.
They toppled with a dramatic thud, covering the floor in greasy chaos.
Chevie groaned as he pushed himself up, brushing off a glob of congealed cheese.
"Nailed it," he said, deadpan.
After tidying up the pizza carnage, Chevie plopped onto the couch, sword resting across his knees.
He knew he needed to take stock of everything he'd gained since waking up, but thinking about it made his head hurt.
Alright, let's break this down, he thought, rubbing his temples.
[Combat Experience]: His clone had spent decades—well, subjective decades—training in the Whitehole dimension. That left Chevie with a treasure trove of muscle memory and battle tactics, even if his body was still catching up.
[Sword Technique Astral Cleave]: A high-density energy slash released from his sword, capable of cutting through reinforced barriers.
The energy-based attack wasn't accessible yet, which was fine.
If Aetherstride was already sending him into pizza-box avalanches, he wasn't ready for something explosive.
[Energy Reserves]: The feedback from his clone's power boost had left him with significantly more Aetherium at his disposal.
Not enough to feel invincible, but enough to make him feel like a walking battery.
[Aetherstride]: A rapid, blink-like dash that allows Chevie to cover short distances instantaneously.
He could use it now, though mastering it without faceplanting would take time.
[Emotional Maturity]: This one was a mixed bag. While he'd gained wisdom from his clone's experiences, it came bundled with memories of loss and sacrifice.
That was a lot to carry for someone who still couldn't cook a proper meal.
Chevie decided it was time to put himself to the test—preferably somewhere without the risk of property damage.
He grabbed his gear and headed out to the outskirts of Avenridge City, where the rolling hills were perfect for practice.
The streets were lively as always, with vendors calling out about the freshest mana-infused fruit, and kids playing tag while pretending to be Gatewalkers.
"Five silver for a mana apple! Keeps you sharp for a week!" one vendor shouted, holding up a glowing red fruit.
"Yeah, right," Chevie muttered under his breath.
He'd tried one before and ended up with a stomachache and a lecture from a stern nurse about dietary scams.
As he passed a recruitment poster for the Aurion Vanguard, a group of elite Gatewalkers, Chevie couldn't help but snicker at the over-the-top poses and glowing weapons.
"Sure, that's me in a few years," he joked.
Then his reflection in the glass reminded him of his messy hair and the faint smear of cheese on his sleeve.
"Or not."
When Chevie reached the outskirts, he found a quiet spot near an abandoned Gate site.
The grass was overgrown, and faint traces of Aetherium still lingered in the air, giving the place an eerie, bluish glow.
Perfect.
He unsheathed his sword and took a deep breath.
"Alright, pizza boxes were just the warm-up. Let's see what I've really got."
He started with basic swings, the sword cutting clean arcs through the air.
The movements felt smoother this time, his muscles gradually syncing with the clone's muscle memory.
Next, he tried Aetherstride again, this time aiming for precision rather than speed.
With a small burst of energy, he dashed to a nearby tree, reappearing without crashing into anything.
"Ha!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air triumphantly.
His celebration was cut short by a rustling sound nearby. He froze, his grip tightening on the sword.
A moment later, a small, rabbit-like creature with glowing eyes and crystalline fur hopped into view.
"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me," Chevie muttered.
The creature, a Prismtail, was harmless but annoying, known for its habit of stealing shiny objects.
The Prismtail stared at Chevie, then at his sword. Its tiny nose twitched.
"Don't even think about it," Chevie warned.
The Prismtail darted forward.
"Seriously?"
In a flurry of motion, Chevie activated Aetherstride to intercept the creature.
He miscalculated the distance and appeared directly in front of it, startling the poor thing into a backflip.
It scurried off into the bushes, leaving Chevie standing there, sword raised dramatically for no reason.
"Well, that was anticlimactic," he said, sheathing the sword.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Chevie sat on a boulder overlooking the city.
The skyline of Avenridge twinkled, with the DDA tower standing tall in the center, a reminder of the bureaucratic chaos that came with being a Gatewalker.
Despite his casual demeanor, Chevie couldn't shake the weight of his promises or the memories of his fallen team.
They were gone, but their legacy lived on in him.
He took a deep breath, letting the cool night air fill his lungs.
"Alright, Chevie," he said to himself. "You've got the skills. You've got the sword. Time to figure out what to do with them."
A sudden thought struck him, and he chuckled.
"Step one: Learn to use Aetherstride without breaking furniture. Step two: Maybe don't fight rabbits next time."
With that, he stood, stretched, and began the walk back to the city, the faint glow of Aetherium guiding his way.