Marcus directed his wheelchair to his desk, where art supplies gathered dust in a drawer. Mrs. Abernathy had encouraged creative expression as therapy, though he had abandoned the practice after her death. Now he retrieved paper, pencils, and pastels with renewed purpose.
He was no artist, but the system had specified complexity rather than quality. For the next hour, he created intricate geometric patterns, detailed landscapes from memory, and abstract compositions with multiple layers of color and texture. Each drawing took approximately ten minutes of focused effort.
When he had completed six drawings, he activated his Contract Visualization, focusing on the first artwork. A faint golden thread connected him to the paper. The connection was much fainter than the connections to his wheelchair or skills, but present nonetheless.
"Destroy."
He commanded, treating the words as a verbal ritual, using his Tempest skill to shred the paper into confetti.
A soft chime confirmed his success:
[EXISTENCE POINTS GAINED: +3]
[TOTAL EP: 3]
Three points from ten minutes of work. Not efficient, but repeatable and ethical. He proceeded to destroy the remaining drawings, accumulating a total of 19 EP—far from what he needed to enhance his skills significantly, but a start.
With time running short before his meeting with Voss, Marcus prepared himself physically and mentally. He showered and dressed with care, choosing clothes that projected confidence and capability—a charcoal button-down shirt, dark jeans, and a lightweight jacket that concealed the thinness of his upper body.
He messaged Devin to confirm transportation, then spent his remaining time practicing the mental exercises that enhanced his Will skill's focus. If Voss subjected him to any form of assessment, he wanted to demonstrate control and discipline rather than raw power.
At precisely 13:15, his apartment's intercom buzzed. Devin had arrived.
The journey to the Transcendent Authority Central Office took nearly thirty minutes. The massive structure dominated the city's administrative district. Unlike the commercial atmosphere of the Professional Shopping Center, the Authority headquarters projected governmental power—a gleaming tower of reinforced glass and steel with security measures visible at every entrance.
"Want me to wait?"
Devin asked as he helped deploy the ramp for Marcus's wheelchair.
Marcus hesitated. The notification about Devin's potential as a contracted ally still lingered in his mind. Having Devin wait would be convenient but it might deepen a connection he wasn't sure he should encourage.
He didn't feel comfortable with the current direction of their connection. If he got too close to Devin, there was a chance the tragedy that had haunted him throughout his life would repeat itself.
"No need."
He decided, adding:
"This might take a while. I'll message you when I'm finished."
Devin nodded, though disappointment flickered briefly across his face. He could sense the changes in Marcus, especially the distance Marcus was trying to create between them.
"Good luck in there. Voss is supposed to be intense but fair, so there shouldn't be any problem."
He encouraged, trying to reassure Marcus.
Marcus directed his wheelchair toward the main entrance, where security personnel conducted thorough identity verification. His F-Rank ID granted him basic access, but a special authorization from Voss was required for entry to the Specialist Division on the thirty-second floor.
The elevator ride was silent and swift. It deposited him in a reception area that contrasted sharply with the imposing exterior. Warm lighting, comfortable seating, and living plants created an almost welcoming atmosphere, though Marcus noted the subtle security measures integrated into the design. Containment fields could be activated instantly if necessary, and the receptionist's desk incorporated what appeared to be skill-dampening technology.
"Marcus Thorne for Specialist Voss."
He stated, presenting his ID.
The receptionist, a middle-aged man with an E-Rank insignia, nodded and touched a communication panel.
"Specialist Voss, your 14:00 appointment has arrived."
After a brief pause, he gestured toward a hallway to the right.
"Third door on the left. She's expecting you."
Marcus followed the directions, noting the absence of names or titles on the office doors, only numerical designations. The third door on the left bore simply "307" in brushed metal.
Before he could announce himself, the door slid open automatically. Elara Voss stood by a large window overlooking the city, her silver hair catching the afternoon light. She wore a simplified version of her demonstration uniform—the same deep blue tones but without the tactical equipment.
"Mr. Thorne."
She greeted, turning to face him.
"Thank you for coming."
Her gaze was direct and evaluating, taking in his wheelchair and physical condition with professional assessment rather than pity.
"Please, make yourself comfortable."
The office was spacious and minimally furnished—a desk with a single chair behind it, two visitor chairs, and a small seating area near the window. No personal items were visible, giving the space an impersonal, almost clinical feel.
Marcus positioned his wheelchair in the open area between the desk and seating arrangement, preferring mobility over being confined beside the visitor chairs.
"I appreciate your interest, Specialist Voss."
He began, his expression turning doubtful as he added:
"...Though I'm not sure what more I can add to my statement from yesterday."
Voss smiled slightly.
"Your statement was comprehensive regarding the incident itself. My interest lies in you, Mr. Thorne."
She moved to her desk but remained standing.
"Specifically, how an F-Rank Wind user with less than a week of registered experience was able to detect and wound a Vitality Wraith before it fully manifested."
Her directness was both refreshing and concerning. Marcus had prepared for questioning, but Voss's focus suggested she already suspected there was more to his abilities than his rank indicated.
"As I told the security team, I've encountered one before. It killed my caregiver three weeks ago. I witnessed the attack but couldn't intervene."
He replied carefully.
"So you purchased a basic Wind crystal and somehow developed enough skill in days to do what many C-Ranks struggle with after years of training."
Her tone wasn't accusatory, merely factual.
"The security footage shows you creating an air pressure blade with precision and focus that contradicts your experience level. Mr. Thorne, care to explain?"
Marcus tensed but maintained his composure.
"I've had a lot of time to practice."
"Indeed."
Voss finally sat, gesturing for him to approach the desk.
"Mr. Thorne, I'm not here to reprimand or investigate you. Quite the opposite. I'm here to offer you an opportunity."
This was unexpected.
"What kind of opportunity?"
"The Transcendent Authority has a special division dedicated to spectral entity management. Most people, even most Transcendents, never encounter such entities directly. Those who do and survive the experience often develop unique sensitivities and abilities."
She leaned forward slightly.
"We call them Resonants. They are individuals who resonate with the frequency of the spectral plane."
Marcus processed this information carefully.
"And you think I'm one of these Resonants?"
"I know you are."
Voss activated a display on her desk, showing energy readings from yesterday's incident.
"These patterns are unmistakable. Your energy signature shows harmonic oscillation consistent with spectral exposure. More importantly, you demonstrated the ability to perceive and affect a Vitality Wraith, something that should be impossible for someone at your registered skill level."
She deactivated the display and regarded him directly.
"The question is not whether you're a Resonant, but how you've developed your abilities so rapidly without guidance or training."
Marcus recognized the implicit question. Voss was giving him an opportunity to explain his unusual capabilities voluntarily before she pressed further. He contemplated how to answer her doubts.
"My Wind skill evolved."
He admitted, deciding a partial truth was necessary, and then elaborated:
"After intensive practice, it transformed into what I now call Tempest. It happened naturally, without external guidance."
This wasn't entirely false. The skill had evolved through the system's mechanics, but the evolution itself was a natural response to his nature and needs.
Voss nodded, unsurprised.
"Skill evolution is rare but documented, particularly in individuals with a strong affinity for their chosen discipline. Usually, it requires months or years of dedicated practice."
She studied him intently and then said:
"Unless catalyzed by trauma or extreme necessity and desperation."
"Both applied in my case."
Marcus acknowledged, finding her conjecture somewhat applicable to his condition.