Double-Blind: A Modern LITRPG

Within weeks of the asteroid hit, most places lost power. There were backups, of course, but cut off from the outside and isolated as we were, the emergency power was routed to critical infrastructure first, leaving the once vibrant skyline filled with perpetually dark monoliths jutting up towards the sky.

The light was returning now, albeit a glimmer of what it once was. The skyscrapers of now-derelict multi-billion dollar companies were repopulated with smaller businesses, guilds, and crafters. Several regions—specifically three and nine—acquired methods of ample power generation gleaned as rewards for their performance in the transposition. They couldn’t be paid directly in Selve for their power, instead leveraging the resource for alliances and trade. The recent addition—the gilded tower—emitted no light of its own, but never stopped glimmering.

I tried not to think about how I’d be there in less than three hours and returned to more pressing matters.

The kid was quiet. My intention was to take him somewhere open and unconfined, but I couldn’t help but wonder if he was worried that if he made a scene I’d throw him off. He squinted slightly, then placed a pair of glasses on his nose, removing them to wipe them on his shirt before replacing them on his nose. They sat slightly crooked. With the set jaw and dark eyes, he reminded me of Sunny.

Maybe it was cruel, but I said nothing. Just sat beside him and waited.

“What’s wrong with my magic?” He finally broke the silence.

I reached over to point at the manacles on his wrists, and when he flinched, pulled my hand away. “The bracelets dampen and drain your mana pool to almost nothing. Easier to talk without lasers burning ozone. You get it.”

The slightest tip of his head. “And what happens to me now?”

“That depends.” I mused. “Do you have people? A place you can go?”

I already knew the answer. Sunny didn’t have any close friends or family, so far as I could tell. However, his ex-wife did. She had plenty of relatives that lived around the metroplex, and several within Dallas itself. Despite hating Sunny with a passion, several of them were friendly enough with the kid to take him in. Assuming they were still alive.

The kid didn’t answer.

“If not, there’s a few groups that’d be willing to take in a stray mage—”

“I have somewhere I can go.” The kid said quickly.

I jingled the key, showing it to him. “Then we take in the scenery for a bit, have a chat, then I take those off and go our separate ways.”

His eyebrow raised, and he seemed unsure. “Okay.”

“What’s your name?” Again, I asked a question I already knew the answer to.

“David.”

“Sorry we had to meet this way, David.”

I really was.

“Is he dead?” David asked. Something in his tone seemed off. Almost resigned.

“He’s gone.”

“Fuck.”

The silence lingered, accented by distant sirens and the sound of traffic dozens of floors below. There was nothing I could say to help him through this. Any words of comfort or support I offered would be seen as condescending at best, cruel at worst.

Tears formed, receded, then formed again, threatening to spill down towards white lips pressed tightly together, trembling with rage. “Of course. He… he…” David frowned. “Why can’t I remember your name? Dad said it. I’m sure he said it. He wouldn’t shut up about you. What the hell?” He sounded confused, rather than accusatory.

The name “Myrddin” was the one thing I let Azure take from him. Tragic as it was, losing a parent is a formative experience. You’re simply not the same person after as you were before. From my experience with memory edits, tearing the entire memory away would be like bringing a hammer down on his psyche. He’d be unable to function, his intelligence would be hamstrung if not outright obliterated, and even if he survived with minimal damage, he’d never be able to escape the feeling that he’d lost something integral. So Azure removed my name from his memories of Sunny, otherwise doing nothing more than blunting the harder-to-stomach aspects.

He’d already lost enough.

“Suppressed memories are the mind’s way of protecting a person from trauma.” I told him. “It may come back to you. But if it doesn’t, that’s probably for the best. Some things are better left forgotten.”

He shook his head. “Why would I remember everything else other than that?”

“It doesn’t always make sense.”

For that matter, he didn’t remember everything. Azure was pretty sure he’d overheard the beating. Listened to it happen. Yet when my summon had poked around looking for the memory, he’d found it as neatly packed away as if he’d suppressed it himself.

The mind was an unknowable thing.

David didn’t accept the explanation, but didn’t seem to know what to make of it otherwise. I sat quietly as he cycled between rage and depression, and back again, the cycle of grief alternating frames in a film wheel.

“It’s okay if you want to scream. Tell me to go fuck myself.”

Whatever you need for closure.

David shook his head. “He wasn’t… a good dad. I was always getting in his way, you know? Always inconveniencing him. We hated each other. Some days less than others.”

“He hit you?”

“No. Just… screamed at me sometimes. But I gave as good as I got.”

I hesitated, torn on whether to reveal more. “He tried to protect you, in the end.”

David’s head snapped around. “What?”

“Claimed he didn’t know you. That you were some street kid he picked up for the runes. Didn’t want us to take the sins of the father out on his son.”

“Why would you tell me that?”

“Because in your place I would want to know. Even if he wasn’t the best father. He tried to do something selfless in the end.”

“What—what the fuck even is this?” David snapped, leaning in, all but spitting poison. “You coddle the families of everyone you murder?”

Damn.

Gently I put a hand on his chest and pushed him back. “Easy.”

His face screwed up, and I felt the beginning of a tirade.

I cut him off before he got there. “You have the right to be livid. This was not the result of anything you’ve done. This should not have happened to you.”

“So tell me why? Why?! What the hell did he do?!”

I paused, deciding whether or not to address the thought Azure found in his head. “There was nothing wrong with the rune. It was cleverly placed, and the central tile was objectively the best spot you could have anchored it to. Just like the only reason you missed me in the store was because I flinched. Sunny didn’t need one mage running his defenses, he needed twenty. It wasn’t your fault—”

The kid let out a cry and threw himself at me, bashing his forehead into my chin, nearly unseating the mask.

“Okay, fair.” I grunted, sitting him back down with a little more force than necessary hoping he’d stay there. He did. “That was your free shot.”

I expected him to bite back. But he just sat there seething, taking big heaving breaths. Most people—especially kids his age—would have been completely irrational. He’d handled himself exceptionally well up to this point, even with whatever brain chemical cocktail Azure had served up to keep him calm. I stood up, leaving him alone in the trunk of the SUV, standing directly in front of him while still giving him distance.

Probably time to make my exit.

“Now I’m going to say some things. And it’s important that you listen.”

He glared, but held his silence.

I continued. “First. If you go back to the grind, Sol Mages have a branching path at level fifteen. I know this because I’m friends with one. The branching path essentially forces you to choose between a significant boost in power and passive regeneration. It’ll be tempting to take the power boost, but you’ll want to take the regeneration path, because the passive regeneration scales. There’s an entire laundry list of upper level spells you’ll be unable to utilize properly if you forgo the regen for a short-term power boost. We’re talking magnitudes of difference in the endgame, depending on which path you take. Verify what I’m telling you with someone. Don’t ignore it out of spite.”

“What—”

I held up two fingers. “Second. You don’t have to believe me. You can hate me for saying it, but I need to be clear here. Sunny had it coming. He got a lot of people killed, both directly and indirectly.” The kid’s face screwed up in obvious pain, and I softened my voice. “If that’s not good enough and you decide you can't live without hearing all the gory details, come find me.”

“How am I supposed to find you when I don’t even know your name?” The kid snapped.

I ignored him and approached with the key. David flinched, but didn’t do more as I freed his arms and stowed the manacles in my inventory. “Last thing, then we’re done. I’m letting you go. No conditions. You’ll find your things as well as Sunny’s in the bag beside you.” He glanced at the bag. When he looked back, I tossed him his wand.

He stared down at it as if I’d just handed him a loaded gun.

I basically had.

“My recommendation is to bunker down, protect yourself and anyone left in the city you care about, focus on leveling, and try to forget this ever happened. But I’m aware my recommendation doesn’t mean jack shit right now. So if instead, you somehow manage to track me down? Great. You’ll have another choice. Come to me in good faith and I’ll answer every question you have about what your father did. I owe you that. But don’t mistake my mercy for weakness,” I stepped away. “The shot in the trunk was free. The next one will cost you.”

With that, I turned and walked towards the rear stairwell, fighting every instinct I had to look back. The SUV’s suspension squeaked behind me.

“He’s aiming at you.” Azure warned.

“I know.”

“You’re just gonna stroll away at wand point?”

“He has to make a choice.”

“Why?” Azure sounded mystified.

“If he doesn’t do something now, every time he reconsiders, he’ll remember that he chose to let me go.”

“And if he fires?”

“Shouldn’t have enough mana for the bullshit beams from before. Anything else—we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“You’re just… gonna leave your car here?” David called after me, a slight warble of tension betraying him. I smiled, despite myself. It was clever. If I stopped in place, it’d make me an easier target for an inexperienced mage. He was using the car as an excuse to get me to stand still and turn around. Give him more time to work the nerve up.

I didn’t stop. “Key FOB’s in the passenger seat. Take it.”

“Hey! Asshole!” David yelled after me. I kept an unhurried pace, waiting for hell to break loose. But he didn’t fire off a spell. Didn’t give chase.

Good. He was smarter than Sunny.

Smarter than me.

I walked past the door and hopped up on the concrete median then plunged downward, activating the flight charm halfway to the ground, and flew into the night.