Reality Heist by Geordi Riker (e manga reader .txt) 📕

protect the ones you really care about?
But filling some undefined amount of quota isn't going to cut it. Jesse said that some of them have been doing it for years. I need to get home now. I sit up and lean against the back of the bench, staring at the empty blue sky. I need to get home, for Will's sake. I can't just call it quits, or wait around because the others think that maybe if we behave we can go home eventually.
I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand as I stand up. I start walking back. I'm not looking forward to seeing Jesse again, but it's the only way I can possibly get home. I need to get stronger, need to find out everything they know. And he seems to be the most open person to talk to. I need to learn in order to fight back. If there is someone out there, I plan on finding them and forcing them to send me home. And if they say no, then I'll just have to make them do it somehow.
A twig snaps in the woods on my left. My head swivels to try to locate the source. Is Ky out? Pain flashes through my brain, and I sink to the ground as the black abyss that suddenly appears rushes up to greet me. Hiyori

Wind tugs at my hair as it whispers past my ear. I'm lying on a smooth, cool surface, my face numb from the absence of any real heat. I smell nothing, and hear nothing but the wind. I open my eyes, but the black that greets me is the same black I saw with my eyes closed. I sit up, squinting into the darkness as I wait for my eyes to adjust. I blink again and again, but the darkness stays just as unreadable as when I first opened my eyes. I start to stand up.
Be still.

I whirl around, trying to pinpoint the source of the echoing voice that fills the world. It's vaguely familiar, like a small case of deja vu.
Stay calm. You are safe.

I know that voice. My eyes widen as I realize who it is. That woman who attacked me. My hand flies to my throat as I remember how the blood poured out from between my fingers as she pulled her sword away from the gash across my neck.
I am not here to harm you.

The voice echoes as if being bounced back and forth between two close mountains. “What do you want?” I call.
To help you.

“Is that what before was too, huh? 'Helping me'?” I demand.
There's a pause. The past is past. We cannot change it, even if we wished to. Before was necessary.

“Killing me was necessary?”
You appear to be in perfect health, but for the bruise forming above your parietal bone.

As she mentions it, I become aware of a throbbing headache bouncing about my skull, the pain focused towards the back of my head. “What happened?”
It appears that you were attacked.

“By what?”
I am uncertain.

“Wait a minute, you didn't bring me here?”
No, you simply appeared.

“How did I get here?”
You were physically forced into an unconscious state.

“Someone knocked me out?”
Yes

.
“So how did I get here? Did someone carry me and drop me off in some sort of black box?”
No. Your body lies where it fell. You are only here in spirit.

“So this is a dream?”
No. This is called Kan Kaku. Sleep of senses. A state of existence within which time has no real meaning. No matter how long you spend here, be it seconds or decades, an hour will be deducted from your conscious world. Except for today. I am unable to determine how much time will pass for this instance. This is the most vital interaction you will experience.

“Why am I here? What do you want?”
You are here to learn. I must teach you if you are to be able to survive life.

“Slicing my throat was teaching me how to survive, huh?”
What has been done is done. It was necessary for me to reach the core of your soul, to understand you more. I need to know you, and you need to know me. We are one.

“What the heck are you talking about?”
In order to survive, you must be willing to learn. To control your Presence, suppress it, you must learn how to control them. Failure is death. Your pressure will eventually overwhelm you and cause you to die from the strain. Those around you will also die, perhaps even before you. You have lived with the Pressure your entire life, and as such, are accustomed to such circumstances. They have only recently been exposed to the large amount you as a single entity release. They are unable to even sense you when you allow your Pressure to leak out in such large quantities. Like the Native Americans, their chances for survival after meeting you are very small.

“Jesse and ... everybody else could... die?”
Yes. And that is why you must train. Learn to contain your Pressure, so that the balance can be maintained. Your Pressure alone is a destructive force. Coupled with any one of those who are now close to you is guaranteeing disaster.

“But they could die?”
Yes.

The news takes a while to really sink in. My Pressure, my black Pressure, which blocks out the Link up the others have otherwise easy access to and keeps me hidden from them, actually exists. I do have Pressure. They just can't sense it. And it can kill them.
“What do I do?”
You are willing? The training is long and tedious. Learning to retain one's Pressure is not a simple task, and will doubtless take a large amount of energy.

“I don't really have a choice, do I?” I manage to choke out, “If I don't, they die. What do I do?”
Pay attention, and I will tell you. Sit down.

I do as she says, the movement slightly disorienting in the dark.
Good. Now close your eyes.

“What's the point? I can't see a bloody thing with them open.”
Just do it.

Her voice, even though it hasn't been raised or the tone altered, leaves no room for argument. I sigh as I close my eyes. “Okay, now what?”
Do not speak, but simply do as I instruct. Take calm, steady breaths. Focus only on the air flowing in and out of your lungs. Feel it as it rises and falls, close and far. Close and far. Feel the air enter your blood, tracing a path along your body as it reaches your heart. Feel the air drift lightly into the vacuum of your soul. Feel it fill your soul.
Cling to that soul that you can now feel. This soul is the core of your being, the nerve centre of your being. This is where your Pressure is. Feel how even now, despite your best efforts, some Pressure continues to leave the soul, to trace its way out of your being to embrace you in a soft glow. Within you burns your Pressure, burning like a fire. You now hold this flame. It is yours to hold.
Take a deep breath, and now release that hold.

I comply, although not whole-heatedly. “What's this going to do?” I snap at her. It feels like we've been at this for years, decades. If I could see myself, I'd probably have skin sagging from my arms, wrinkly and all that other fun stuff that comes from aging.
Silence is all I get. She doesn't say anything, at least not right away. Instead, she softly begins to sing in a quiet, haunting voice,

Sunlight dies by night's eternal blade-
Heaven cries as immortals are slayed.
Infinity becomes a blade to wield,
Night returns to be the shield.
Oceans of blood cry out for more,
Sorrow tears the soul's final core.
Enjoy life, death reigns tonight-
Night swallows the last of light.
Justice defined by one,s demand,
Infinite blades form on command.
Night endures, its fading cry...

Her voice fades away, leaving me feeling strangely sad and hollow. The song made no sense, but the words are burned into my memory.
“Protect the innocent, lest they die,” I finish for her. The line feels right, like it belongs there. Sitting in the dark, cross-legged, I listen as the last echoes of my voice die off.
You can feel it, can't you? The loss?

“Yes.”
Whenever you wish to release your Pressure, you must remember how you feel right now. This is the price you bear, the pain of loss. Channel that sorrow into your hand.

I do as she says, trying to visualize the pain I feel creeping from my chest up to my shoulder and down my arm, like some sort of snake. I allow the pain to dwell in my hand.
Look.

I open my eyes and stare in amazement at my now-glowing hand. Even as I stare at it, the glow begins to fade away. I try to form it into a sphere above my hand, and am rewarded with a lumpy shape.
Release the sorrow, let it flow from you and disappear into the black.

I do as instructed, aiming my palm directly in front of me. I relax my grip on the ball of light, mentally shoving it away from me. The light flies off into the darkness, quickly consumed by the swirling fog I can now see.
Excellent work. Do not tell anyone of where you have been. You may go.

Before I can ask anymore questions, like how I'm supposed to leave, I feel a knife slice the inside of my forearm. The sharp pain shoots up my arm to take root in my core and skull, and I black out from the agony.

In The Dark

Coming to is nothing like blacking out. I know I'm awake, but opening my eyes feels like too tremendous of a feat. I can feel the Pressure in me, the flame that she had described. I try to release it, but nothing happens, the same amount of Pressure is there.
I become aware of sounds, which slowly start to sort themselves out into things I could recognize: Jesse's voice prominent among them.
“Shouldn't she