21.7

January 3, 2070, at 1949
Parque Del Mar, Apartment #317

Crystal observed a peculiar spectacle unfolding before her. Nestled at a table in her lobby, two figures were locked in a silent, intense exchange. On one side sat Nota, the enigmatic Eldritch AI; on the other perched a spirit familiar, the hen named Sgt. Fluffyfeathers. A bizarre, unspoken conversation seemed to be transpiring between the duo—eventually, Sgt. Fluffyfeathers clucked in what appeared to be agreement. Nota extended her hand, gently grasping the hen's wing in a peculiar handshake. The pair then swiveled their gazes toward Crystal. A twinge of unease trickled down her spine, but her anxiety subsided when they merely gestured, dismissing her from the lobby.

Emerging from the depths of the sleeping bag, Crystal muttered to herself, "Life is taking an even stranger turn." Reading a message from the Padre, she responded with a nod. Reconnaissance was indeed her forte. It would grant her the luxury to select her targets during the imminent war meticulously. She was familiar with Jackie through his affiliation with Mama Welles and quickly deciphered this proposition as an ingenious strategy to tackle two issues simultaneously.

A glance at Sgt. Fluffyfeathers revealed her cozily nestled in a part of the pillow next to Crystal's head. Wriggling out of the sleeping bag, she offered a casual shrug. In her opinion, the mysterious dealings between Nota, the Eldritch AI, and Fluff were inconsequential.

Heading towards the bathroom, she indulged in a long, refreshing hot shower, leaving her clothing outside the door. As warm droplets cascaded down, she activated the holographic display of her personal information.

Level: 8

Name: V (Crystal Moss)

Age: 18*

Race: Vampire

Rank: Fledgling 2/100

Attribute Points: 0

Skill Points: 0

Warlock Level: 8

Cash: 15,000

Residence: Parque Del Mar Apartment #317

Crystal scrutinized the simplified information with bewilderment, quickly realizing that the details had been streamlined for quick reference. She could still access the comprehensive data if needed, but the modified version was undoubtedly more efficient and user-friendly. Her gaze landed on the 'Level Eight' and 'Warlock Level Eight,' sparking a thought. The sole rationale behind the differentiation would be an additional advantage. The Warlock skill set had a limit of twenty, whereas the human level capped at fifty. Could it be that she would gain additional levels in another discipline?

She confronted an unverified assumption: no concrete evidence suggests she would peak at level fifty. "Nota," she asked, "theoretically, what would my maximum level be?" After a brief pause, the Eldritch AI responded, "Eighty. However, you must confront and overcome numerous powerful adversaries to attain that. Even eliminating an entire city of lesser beings would yield negligible progress. Beyond a certain point, their weak souls would offer no further strengthening to your own."

Crystal's eyes widened in realization at Nota's revelation. "You're referring to the Combat Zones!" In a distorted sense, it was logical. These lawless districts were brimming with formidable Solos and teemed with teams of formidable individuals. "Indeed, but you're far from ready to venture into such dangerous territory. I would advise not considering it until you're at least a level twenty Warlock," Nota intoned evenly on their private channel.

Switching off the shower, Crystal mulled over Nota's words. Stepping into a Combat Zone in her current state would be a suicide mission. Though she could evade electronic surveillance, the hardened residents of these zones had honed their instincts to a razor's edge. A seasoned Solo could intuitively pinpoint her position and effortlessly instruct their Self-Adapting Assistant Intelligence (SAAI) to verify it.

Military-grade hardware vastly surpassed the equipment wielded by gangs.

While she had managed to dispatch a handful of adversaries leveraging her unique advantages, braving a Combat Zone was an entirely different ballgame. Moreover, her distinct abilities would be glaringly conspicuous. A technique that rendered her invisible to electronic surveillance? Corporations would wage wars for less. There was a substantial risk of betrayal and dissection.

However, revealing her powers to individuals like Padre or Jackie wasn't as consequential. Would they care? Unlikely. They'd dismiss it as another trick. The perspective of military professionals would be starkly different. Also, she had the reassurance of their familial bond; the family didn't betray the family. Instances of black sheep like Julio were exceptions, and they were dealt with in due course.

As she dried herself off, a troubling thought struck her with the force of an unexpected epiphany. “Nota, are you training Fluff because you, too, require periods of inactivity—like the other four?" The idea of the Eldritch AI needing rest was unnerving; losing access to its abilities would make her world significantly more daunting.

"Yes. As Fluff is linked to your spirit, teaching her indirectly facilitates learning through a process akin to osmosis. Moreover, Fluff displays a remarkable aptitude for coding," Nota declared, void of any softening prevarication. "Regarding intelligence, you might match her capabilities when you reach level twenty. Possibly." Crystal gazed at her feathered spirit companion, trying to assimilate this revelation.

A chicken.

A chicken that surpassed her in coding skills.

She felt an abrupt disconnect as she grappled with this astounding fact. Despite Sgt. Fluffyfeathers' apparent superiority in the digital realm, Crystal knew she could still best the hen in a physical contest!

"You seem to derive pride from overpowering a creature one-twentieth your size, despite possessing a distinct racial advantage and superior physical capabilities. Your lack of chivalry is rather unbecoming, you vampiric scoundrel," Nota remarked in an emotionless monotone.

Choosing to interpret this as a victory, Crystal reasoned that Sgt. Fluffyfeathers would harbor no resentment against her, supplied live grubs remained steady. Bribery, in the form of delicious worms, was an accepted norm among avian companions. Refocusing on the task, she asked, "Nota, what would you suggest as the most effective scouting routes for gathering intelligence on the VBs?"

A mental and holographic map unfurled in her mind and across her retinas. She studied the three routes suggested by the Eldritch AI, noting the minimal exposure to networks they all offered. Bridgette and her lieutenant, T-IE, were reputed for their exceptional skills as Netrunners.

"Do you anticipate any issues with Jackie?" Crystal queried. Her backup could potentially affect her plans; she certainly wouldn't want him barging in unexpectedly while she was feeding. "Unlikely," Nota reassured her, casually perusing Jackie's psychological profile, "He seems to be a dependable young man, primarily driven by his aspirations of success and a deep loyalty to his friends."

Crystal was about to continue the conversation when a flashing notification appeared in her line of sight.

One Cantrip slot was obtained!

Two Eldritch Invocations slots were acquired!

This augmentation of her abilities was serendipitous. She scanned the list and selected a unique Cantrip that could rival Clean and Prestidigitation in its practicality: On/Off. This cantrip enabled her to switch any electronic device within range on or off, provided the machine had an externally accessible and clearly defined on/off mechanism. However, it would not affect devices requiring a software-based shutdown or activation sequence. At first glance, its utility may seem peculiar, but Crystal chose this spell for a primary purpose.

Keypads.

They met all the stipulations of the spell and were a prevalent means of securing numerous doors. With this single spell, they would serve as mere fleeting obstacles. While she had contemplated other options, the sheer practicality of On/Off made it a superior choice.

However, her selection of Eldritch Invocations involved more deliberation as several options had piqued her interest, none of which were due to morph into Eldritch Passives.

Gift of the Depths. Investment of the Chainpact. Many Masked Faces. Myriad Forms Mastery. Each offered distinct advantages. Gift of the Depths would render her impervious to drowning—a decidedly invaluable trait, especially for those unfortunate souls sporting cement shoes at the bottom of the bay. The Investment would endow Sgt. Fluffyfeathers with a perpetual boost, enabling a host of remarkable enhancements. Conversely, Many Masked Faces would grant her the ability to shapeshift instantaneously—a potentially life-saving capability, as often the difference between a second and several could mean life or death. Myriad Forms fell within the same category but encompassed her entire form.

Choosing the Gift of the Depths and Investment took Crystal several minutes of indecision. Of course, it wasn’t because she was terrified of ending up like a lead-weighted mob victim at the bottom of a lake. Absolutely not. And she certainly wasn't aiming to butter up her feathered friend. These were just the most logical choices. Theoretically, her vampiric form should eventually be capable of everything the other two Invocations offered. But Crystal, a self-professed lover of all things accessible, had bookmarked them for later when more Eldritch Slots became available. Not that she was plotting to take a leaf out of Mama Welles’ book and terrorize her future partner. Crystal wasn’t nearly that malevolent.

Well... most likely.

Having made these critical decisions, Crystal turned her attention to a task of utmost importance: shopping. Her current inventory boasted one set of clothes and two whole shoes. This dire situation needed immediate rectification.

With enthusiasm rivaling a kid in a candy store, she pestered Nota into setting up an untraceable purchasing account linked to her own. Now, armed with a cool fifteen thousand eddies, it was retail therapy time!

Crystal scrolled through multiple shopping websites simultaneously, embracing the dark and mysterious allure often associated with her vampiric kin. The digital multitasking was effortless, thanks to her data manipulation abilities. Shoes, pants, shirts, gloves, sunglasses, coats, and more danced in and out of her virtual carts as she hunted for the best bargains. Four hours and countless drones later, her living room was swarming with packages. She stayed sequestered in the bedroom, avoiding the prying lenses of the delivery drones masquerading their snooping as 'navigational aid.'

Once the delivery frenzy subsided, she dragged the parcels into the bedroom and embarked on the equally time-consuming task of unboxing and arranging outfits. She surveyed her new wardrobe and mused, "If only I could wear all of them at once." Remembering the heat-absorbing properties of Felix’s Dungeon, she wondered if it could also double up as storage.

As this idea took root, she felt her thoughts reaching out in a peculiar direction - inward yet outward simultaneously. She experimented, making an empty cardboard box follow this mental trajectory. The box returned with a gaping half-circle gnawed out, signifying the peril of storing items in the dungeon. Unfazed, she shrugged. Her bank account still had a hefty ten thousand eddies—time to invest in a box that could fight back.

After combing through numerous sites, she reluctantly accepted that the Militech ShellShield DX-1D10T beat all its competitors. This six cubic feet secure storage box, loaded with defensive measures from mini-guns to missiles and an energy-absorbing micro-fusion reactor, was the epitome of high-tech security.

Despite its hefty eight-thousand price tag, Crystal made the purchase. The delivery drone, dropping off the package, lingered suspiciously long before the building's security nudged it away. Finding the delivery drone's keen interest amusing, she effortlessly breached the box's security from her balcony and scrubbed it clean of all pre-installed software.

With Nota's affirmation, she woke Sgt. Fluffyfeathers and pointed at the security box. A few moments later, the Militech ShellShield DX-ID10T emitted a beep, indicating the integration of Fluff’s newly written code. As Crystal caught sight of chicken-shaped signatures buried within the lines of code, her eyes twitched. It seemed that leaving an adorable, poultry-themed signature had already become integral to Fluff's coding M.O.

Storing her newly acquired outfits in the Militech ShellShield DX-1D10T was a breeze. Everything except one ensemble found a new home inside when she was done. With a mental nudge, she sent the box along the same ethereal pathway as the ill-fated cardboard box. After an agonizing ten-minute wait, she retrieved the box, anticipating the battle scars.

Sure enough, the ShellShield looked like it had seen a full-blown warzone. Blood spatters, gory chunks, and fragments of bone clung to the exterior. With all the composure of a seasoned war veteran, the box activated its self-cleaning function. Pulsing with electric static, a halo of cleansing arcs descended from the unit, scrubbing it clean. "Well, that's one way to clean house," Crystal quipped, giving a nonchalant shrug. Having concluded that the transitional journey was fatal to living organisms, she returned the box to its mystical hiding place.

Next, she turned her attention to dressing up. Slipping into her Jinguji bodysuit, hooded coat, eyeshades, silent tread boots, and gloves, Crystal added a final flourish with a slick of bold, red lipstick. The outfit was practical, with the hood designed to contain her flowing hair, fingerless gloves enabling her to reshape her fingerprints at will, and zoom-enabled eyeshades that complimented her vampiric vision. The bodysuit was the cherry on top, ensuring her body stayed at room temperature – a perfect backup to Prestidigitation.

Casting a confident gaze at her reflection in the full-length mirror, she blew a theatrical air kiss toward her image. A stern cluck from Sgt. Fluffyfeathers pulled her attention away from the mirror. Unable to resist the endearing sight, Crystal succumbed to a cuddling session with her feathery companion. The session was cut short when she was admonished with a sharp headbutt on the nose.

"No need to get all aggressive, Fluff. I just needed a hit of therapy," Crystal said, pulling a wounded expression. The hen gave her a look, clucked dismissively, and turned away. A glance at the time reminded Crystal of her rendezvous with Jackie. Reluctantly, she left her feathery confidante and stepped out of the apartment. In an instant, the apartment's defenses reconfigured themselves, making the On/Off Cantrip the only key to access. Crystal nodded in approval. It seemed Fluff had inherited her teacher's healthy sense of paranoia - and perhaps a touch of its sass too.