Jackson entered the room silently and with a barely noticeable click sound door is closed. The cold pressure in Jackson's chest was not much decreased by the candlelight that shimmered across the walls, softening the lines of the tools and furniture. He stripped himself of his ceremonial garments and wrapped himself in the unremarkable softness of his nightgown. Even in that robe and under the pile of heavy blankets, Jackson climbed into bed and a chill suddenly spread into his thin body.
He lay down silently on the bed and his eyes were staring up at the ceiling for a long time. He kept replaying the events of the day in his mind — the exact words, the judgmental looks and the ceaseless judgment. Weak... fragile... mismatch... The words that haunted him all day returned— only this time them impacted him more in the silence of his room.
Jackson couldn't stop it any longer, and his body trembled as tears started to fall. They made pale paths down his cheeks, tracing all the pain and humiliation he had kept buried all day. Why am I always like this? Why am I... so weak?. The soft silence of loneliness he had experienced since childhood was marked by the echoes of his sob softly bouncing off the walls.
He thought about his parents they are only ones to give him unconditional love. Mother.... Father.... If you were here. You would not let them talk about me like this.... Memories of his mother's gentle smile when she tell him stories, he was laying on bed and his father's tender hands on his head came flooding back. It was small house but warm feeling like a different life back then.
Along with the small scent of the flowers on the ledge just outside, a gentle wind was blowing in from the open window and gently floats against him. On the bed next to him is one of the fragile white flowers dropped slowly off the stem. Jackson picked it up flower and ran his fingers over the velvety petals. He briefly allowed himself to envision a life free of traits like weakness, mockery and bothersomeness.
He found his mind slipping away to Callista. He recalled the way her eyes had glared at him today, the red of her eyes—calm and assessing and strong and unreadable. What if… what if we could be happy?. Me and her alone... in our own world, free from outside influences, news, etc. The twisted feeling of longing for the impossible mixed his heart even as he considered it.
That temporary moment of peace ended suddenly. Jackson screamed in pain he gripped his heart and tried to comprehend what was happening after feeling an invisible, fierce and sharp dagger stab in his chest. What… what is happening? Before he could think any further, he felt another stab, stronger than the first, unleashing a wave of terror in his body.
Darkness started to grow on the edges of his vision as his vision began to decline. He breathed sharply and wildly as the room turned around. He struggled to stay conscious and dropped his trembling hands in all directions searching for something to grasp but he only to discover that his had only managed to grasp the delicate plant pot of the flower.
Then a voice was metallic and clear, started to speak in his mind.
[Host... are you interested in drawing life from these blossoms?]
Jackson stopped short, surprised. What... what voice is that? Am I dreaming? He could hardly grasp what was occurring, confused by pain and disbelief. But the voice remained persistent, assertive, and somehow inescapable.
Extract life? From these flowers? he thought, gazing at the dainty petals in his palm. His fascination clashed with dread, but a weird kind of resolve bubbled up and propelled him forward. Well, if this is my only opportunity… maybe it is worth a shot.
Contrary to his better judgment he found himself saying, "yes," nearly without his own conscious dismissal of his better judgment with a little pressure of his palm against the flower.
A sense of warmth coursed through his fingertips and radiated toward his chest, while a pulsing feeling began to travel through his body. A strange and lively energy replaced the stabbing pain that had imprisoned him moments earlier. His vision was cleared, his breath relaxed and his weak body felt a strength he had never known before.
When Jackson awoke in the morning, the soft stream of sunlight streaming in through the window. His heart was beating, but not because of the pain he experienced from yesterday. Every injury, every ache that he had endured, seemed to be gone. His skin felt warm and smooth, he had energized, and the weak body now had a hint of firmness that surprised him.
He sat upright, but reality hit home in an awful unforeseen way. Both the bed and the white nightgown he had worn the night before but now they were covered in blood. He glanced down at his hands before turning to face the rest of the room where blood was all over the floor, the sheets, and even the petals of the fallen flower.
What… what just happened? Panic gripped him. He knew that someone—or something—had died at his hands. The heat that had healed him was now an unbearable weight.
The same gentle, soothing voice returned to echo in his mind, pulling him back from madness.
[Dear Host. I am your System. I exist to assist you. My function is to help you extract life force from living things and convert it into vitality of your own.]
Jackson's mind spun. System? Reap life force? Is this happening...or am I having a mental collapse?
[You have the capability to extend your life by draining the life force of other living things. The energy you absorb can even be used as a form of currency from this you can exchange it for materials, resources, or even powers. You are in control of this ability now, Host.]
Jackson's heart was racing, a mix of fear and awe. Life... can it be taken from living things? Is it... killing them? He looked down at the flower in his hand, drooping slightly and clearly drained of life. This is... just a flower... but if this is how I could heal myself... His heart raced.
Would I… be able to survive? Could I get stronger? The tiniest sparkle of hope was sparked by the amazing thought that rushed through the hole the world had left in his heart. For the first time he believed that he would be able to live without being weak and ill.
[Host, your first extraction has already done, so take a look at the result. You have healed and restored your strength. You've just begun your journey. But know this, there are costs to each life taken, and a greater understanding of the balance of life and power in this world with each extraction made. ]
Jackson's mind battled to understand the words. Balance… consequences… power… And then he understood that he was no longer just a sickly boy in a noble person's world. He possessed a secret potential, a tool that could alter every aspect of his life. But despite this thought, the blood on the bed and the ghost of life lost reminded him that this possibility came at a price he could not fully understand.
He melded his hands together and peered at them as though he was seeing these hands for the first time. No one was going to help me... no one was going to care about me... but at this time... maybe I can help myself. Slowly but surely, years of self-hatred and fear began to shift into wary resolve.
The System continued, calm and sociopathic, [Host, this has only just begun. Everything living surrounding you has potential. You may take from plants, animals, or even humans. You will be able to use it to build yourself, gain resources, and ensure survival, each of you can choose to harvest potential and gain strength. The path you choose is yours to choose.]
The yellow of Jackson's eyes traveled through a new spark that had never been before - survival - power - freedom. Perhaps I was never meant to be helpless. He curled his hands into fists, the impending heaviness of his situation settling into the bone. I was alone in this world; now, I had leverage, a sort of weapon to carve his fate.
He looked at the flower again as the delicate embodiment of my first act of extraction. It had afforded me life, and it had now faded. If I can survive this... maybe I can survive anything.
Jackson lay back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling it's new experiencing for him a mixture of fear and excitement. His tears from last night were dried up and were gone completely. However, there was an unexpected feeling of determination he never had. The ridicule, the gossip and the judgment all led him here. He was no longer the fragile boy everyone treated like he was easy to push around. He was something else, something stronger, something that could grow, endure and take control.
This… is only the beginning, he thought. No one will expect me. No one will see me coming.
As Jackson closed his eyes and tried to call up the System's strength, the room was lighting up by the warm sun. Although he was not entirely sure how his abilities operated but he had a gut feeling that his life would never be the same. He no longer lacked strength or was weak.
With that, Jackson's story began.