"The All-Consuming Sky shouldn't be using the Half Form recklessly," Pawn's voice stated, its usual calm tone carrying a new, subtle note of caution.
Orion raised his eyebrows, pulled from his triumphant imaginings of using his new power. "Why's that?" he asked, curiosity piqued.
"This Pawn would find it highly probable that, after witnessing someone begin to physically turn into a monster right in front of their eyes, the other Sparklings would immediatelly engage in lethal battle with The All-Consuming Sky," Pawn explained. The voice hesitated for a fraction of a second, a barely perceptible pause that spoke volumes, before finishing. "...The calculated chances of survival in such a scenario are... Minimal."
A visceral chill ran down Orion's spine. His mind instantly conjured a vivid, terrifying image: the ferocious, brutal, and undeniably powerful warriors he'd seen around the base—men and women with hard eyes and worn weapons—all turning their attention on him. He saw them not as potential allies or neutral figures, but as a unified mob chasing him with drawn swords and hurled stones, their intent not to subdue but to turn him into minced. The fantasy of power evaporated, replaced by the cold, hard reality of fear.
"BRRR! Yeah, you're right! Nice one, Pawn," Orion said, the words coming out in a relieved exhale. The thought was horrifying. "Glad to see I can count on ya to stop me from doing something stupid that gets me killed!"
"Of course," Pawn replied, its tone returning to its efficient baseline. "This one is Thrilled to receive your trust and to perform its function adequately." The use of the word "Thrilled" was so flat and emotionless that Orion couldn't help but snicker. It was so earnestly trying to mimic human responses based on his memories, but the result was hilariously robotic.
Shaking his head with a grin, Orion looked back at the mental screen, his eyes settling on the last of his listed abilities: ☯ Authority of the Skies ↳ (⬇ Reduced – Weakened)
Another skill he possessed that was being hamstrung by his annoying "Weakened" condition. He really needed to take care of that soon; it was like trying to run with weights chained to his ankles. If Orion had to guess, this one had to be the Ability he used—or more accurately, failed to use—to fly earlier. Was that the reason for his complete lack of control? Unwilling ascent all because he was in this sub-optimal state?
"Negative," Pawn interjected, correctly anticipating this line of inquiry. "The instability was mostly due to The All-Consuming Sky's nascent and complete lack of conscious Control over Spiritual Essence flow at the moment of activation. The 'Weakened' condition is a secondary factor. With this one's assistance in regulating and directing the energy channels, any next instance of practice or application should proceed significantly smoothier."
"OOh! Really?!" Orion's spirits lifted again. So he could potentially fly, and with Pawn's help, actually control it! That was incredible news. "Thank you, Pawn!" The Familiar was proving to be worth its weight in gold, a constant source of both crucial warnings and hopeful reassurances.
After analyzing everything thoroughly, feeling he had a firm grasp on his new status, Orion willed the screen to dismiss, and his consciousness gently disengaged from the deep focus of his soul sea. The luminous blues and the comforting presence of Pawn receded, and the sounds and sensations of the real world rushed back in.
When he came back to reality, he hesitated for a moment, his body tense. He was half-expecting to be floating again, defying gravity in a most inconvenient way. Thankfully, he was not. He was sitting firmly on the crate, his boots planted on the dusty ground. A sigh of relief escaped him. Standing up, he stretched his limbs, the events of the morning feeling both like a lifetime and a single breath ago. He stopped, thinking about what to do next. The adrenaline was fading, leaving behind the mundane needs of the body.
"...Damn, I could use some water," he muttered to himself, his throat feeling dry.
A few minutes passed as Orion navigated the organized chaos of the small base of operations. He went to grab his water, moving with the cautious curiosity of someone in a new and potentially hostile environment. Thankfully, as he walked around, following the flow of people, he found out they had a HUGE GALLON OF CLEAR WATER set up on a sturdy wooden table, attended by a bored-looking official. And they were giving it out FOR FREE!!
Such a mundane encounter almost brought Orion to tears. In the back alleys, clear, uncontaminated water was a luxury, often fought over, always hoarded. A single cup could cost a favor or a day's scavenged goods. And here, in this military outpost, they had a vast container of it, and they were just... giving it away. Today really was a blessed day, filled with impossible wonders.
Seizing the opportunity with the zeal of someone who had known true thirst, Orion drank up. He lost count after twenty cups, gulping it down just to not waste the miraculous oportunity, the cool liquid feeling like a blessing washing through him. He would have drunk more, intent on storing it for the future, if the officials over there hadn't started screaming at him to stop, their voices a mix of annoyance and disbelief.
With his belly bloated with water, sloshing gently with every movement, Orion was deeply, profoundly happy. He found an empty crate away from the main thoroughfare and sat down to digest, content to just watch the camp as it moved with a purpose he didn't yet understand.
As he watched, Pawn watched too, its sensors—which seemed to be Orion's own enhanced senses—passively relaying information about the surroundings, categorizing people, noting patterns, and building a database of the base's operations.
There wasn't much exciting happening, actually. The process was methodical. There was a man in intricate, official-looking armor standing by the front gates, holding some kind of thin black brick, Orion didn't understand what he was doing, but every once in a while he would call out a name in a loud, clear voice, and a small group of people would walk up to him from the waiting crowd. Then, the other officials nearby would quickly confer, pointing and discussing, seemingly to decide which of them was going to be the designated "Captain" for the mission. Once decided, the newly formed crew would depart, heading out through the gates with their mission objective in tow.
Orion couldn't hear what the specific missions were, as he was too far away and the Little Base was loud with the clatter of armor, the murmur of conversations, and the distant sounds of training. He could, of course, get up and approach to hear it better.... but the thought of approaching that stern-looking man seemed incredibly scary and intimidating. He was just a kid from the alleys; people like that didn't talk to people like him.
Though Pawn had reassured him, analyzing the man's posture and interactions, that he didn't seem to have any ill intentions and was merely performing a duty, the Familiar also added a caveat: he could be wrong, as he was deducting solely from the information relayed to him by Orion's own senses and limited understanding. It was a logical, but not entirely comforting, assessment.
As Orion continued his passive observation, content to stay on his crate, he noticed a small commotion beginning to brew near the entrance of the Base of Operations. It was caused by a small group of people pushing their way in, and he recognized them very, very well. A cold dread instantly replaced his contentedness.
"OH SHIT! THEY FOUND ME!" Orion yelped, his voice a panicked whisper. He quickly ducked down, abandoning his seat to hide behind the very crate he was sitting on, peeking cautiously around the edge. There, arguing with one of the perimeter guards at the entrance of the base, were a few of the older, tougher residents from the shared house he had fled that very morning. They seemed very angry and annoyed, their faces flushed, gesturing wildly as they tried to convince the guard to let them in.
WHAT?! How did they find me? This was a military outpost!
"It is not hard to conclude," Pawn spoke in his head, its analytical tone a stark contrast to Orion's panic. "The All-Consuming Sky left the Shared House on the same day officials of the Thirsting Agony arrived in the Settlement. To an outside observer, the temporal connection could not be a mere coincidence. It is the most logical place to search for a missing resident who vanished under such unusual circumstances."
"GAH! On point! Yeah, you're probably right," Orion replied miserably, holding his head in his hands as a feeling of utter despair began settling in. He was trapped. "AAAHH what to dooo what to dooooo!!!" His brain, fueled by a lifetime of near-misses and narrow escapes, started running frantic simulations of what he could do. There was no way the officials in the base would help some random kid in a dispute with his former housemates. And there was absolutely no way the guys from the shared house would just forgive him and leave; they looked furious, who knew what kind of punishment the Fat pig relayed on them.
The cruel irony was that he had gotten something special—he was a Sparkling now, stronger than before. But he was not even close to possessing the strength necessary for fighting those adults by himself! He was still just one kid.
Then the thought, desperate and dangerous, flashed into his mind. It was the only card he had to play, the only thing that might tip the scales. "Should I use Half Form?"