Verrin pulled the black, slightly oversized hoodie closer. It was the only item of clothing his Glamour had manifested with. It was generic, dark, and thankfully, covered his head well.
He needed information, and he needed it now. His implanted knowledge base—a scholarly, theoretical archive on Human World civilization gathered over centuries from faint dimensional echoes—was hopelessly outdated and lacked context.
He reached out with a faint Etheric tendril, not to attack, but to seek out a dense concentration of energy—anything that held information. The human world was saturated with invisible signals.
His tendril found it: a dense, pulsating cloud of data surrounding the exterior of the sleek glass building nearby. A Wi-Fi signal.
This energy was not Ether, but it was highly structured, complex, and driven by human intent. It was usable.
Verrin painstakingly pulled a minute fragment of the signal—a publicly available connection—into his own mind, a process that felt like pouring boiling water into a delicate ceramic cup.
The speed and volume of the influx were shocking. His brain, accustomed to the slow, deliberate exchange of thoughts in the Aetherium, was overwhelmed by the torrent.
Data Assimilation Log:
Location: Shinjuku, Tokyo, Japan. A major population center.
Time: 1:30 AM, October 4th (Gregorian Calendar). The concept of a universal calendar was baffling, yet mandatory.
The System: This society was founded on a hyper-complex, invisible system of abstract value called Yen, exchanged through cards and communicators. Verrin possessed zero Yen. Conclusion: I am financially non-existent.
The Problem: Identity: Every human unit had a unique digital signature (ID, passport, bank account, medical history). Verrin was a ghost, a temporal anomaly. The Glamour provided a visual body, but nothing more. Immediate Goal: Forging a minimal digital footprint.
The Target: School: The most effective place to observe and learn human societal norms and structure was in an environment designed for systematic teaching. High School. It provided a schedule, a predictable environment, and a large sample size of developing human behavior.
The Method: The Shadow Identity: Verrin found a recently published, low-priority missing person report for a teenage boy named Kuroyama Kenji. No distinguishing features, poor family connections, easily forgettable. Perfect. Kuroyama Kenji will be the name of the mask.
The assimilation process took twelve minutes of intense concentration, burning through more Ether than he was comfortable with. The Glamour was now shimmering faintly, demanding more fuel.
He pulled back, the psychic noise of the internet receding, leaving a ringing silence. He now knew what he had to do, but the execution was the impossible part.
How do I create a life out of nothing, when my very substance is dissolving?
The Glamour, currently stable but demanding, required 20 units of Ether per hour to maintain a perfect human state during motion. His internal reserves held less than 100 units. He had, at best, five hours left until total core depletion.
He needed a stable, external source of energy—or, failing that, something to transmute. His species possessed the innate ability to convert base matter into resonant Ether, but it was incredibly taxing. The more complex the matter, the higher the conversion efficiency, but the higher the risk of drawing attention.
He found a few discarded aluminum cans and a pile of broken ceramic tiles in his hideout. He focused his will on a single can. It was a metal alloy, highly structured.
He channeled 5 units of his own Ether into the can, attempting to initiate the conversion.
The can didn't transmute. Instead, it violently repelled the energy. It crumpled inward with a soundless pressure, the alloy screaming a chaotic energy signature, and then it simply ceased to exist, leaving behind only a faint, bitter-smelling vapor.
Verrin recoiled, clutching his chest. The backlash had momentarily crippled his Glamour. His body felt heavy, too dense. He looked down. His shoes—basic, manifested black sneakers—had become slick with the dark, oily residue of his true form, a subtle film of liquid shadow.
Raw transmutation of highly refined metal is too dangerous. I need a simpler medium.
He realized he needed something pre-conditioned by human interaction, something that held a faint, residual Psychic Imprint—a spiritual or emotional signature that made it easier to convert. Things that were used, touched, and valued, but then discarded.
He needed to find money.