Chương 17: A Rockstar

Burgen and Jerome knocked on Ray's door. Not receiving an answer led both of them to try to contact Ray with the System to no avail. It took several minutes before Burgen insisted on entering without invitation. The pair walked in to see an unconscious Ray, sweating profusely and shaking violently. His skin was deathly pale and he let out light grunts as he suddenly jerked at random intervals.

Burgen immediately used the System to call for medical personnel as Jerome rushed over to Ray, trying to calm him with a soothing voice. Ray was unresponsive, thrashing his body and mumbling indiscernible sentences. Several minutes passed before the personnel arrived. They administered a series of shots and Ray ultimately returned to a calm state. The slow rise and fall of his chest indicated he was alive, but no other signs of life could be seen.

Burgen and Jerome left shortly after, deciding it best to let the black-haired teen rest. A team of personnel would be tasked with monitoring his vitals remotely going forward. - The same dream he always had. Someone he cared for was hurling spiteful curses at him, while he desperately looked for the means to repair his broken self. Ray was used to this by now. Two lifetimes of night terrors made dreaming more of an annoying hurdle to overcome than a manifestation of his trauma. He just wanted to rest.

What was the point in fighting? Well… Fighting was fun sometimes. Fighting the Stonemite Queen and even the Killworm had been fun. Maybe Ray could fight hard enough and he wouldn't feel this way anymore.

'Yeah, right,' he thought.

'Like that has ever worked.' Light pierced his eyelids as Ray fully awoke, not deeming it necessary to open his eyes.

'Was I lucid dreaming?'

'I feel like I wasn't even asleep but now that I'm awake, I know that I was.'

'Weird.' Ray opened his eyes, the green glow of the System flickering with a spark of his fleeting existence. He felt so weak.

'I just killed a monster capable of leveling a small neighborhood,' he thought.

'Shouldn't I feel powerful?' The words of Chronos rang in his mind. Ray knew that the Admiral was just being realistic. Why would some random orphan have the potential to make a difference in the never-ending war against the Beasts? That was something out of a fairytale. Only children believed in heroes.

'But there is a real hero,' Ray thought.

'People believe in him.' It was second nature to Ray but one would be surprised to notice one thing that the Empire lacked, as opposed to modern civilization in his old world. Religion. There were no churches or places of worship. Children didn't go to school after services and learn about the creator of the universe. They were taught of the man who kept them safe. The man who single handedly kept the Beasts at bay, making sure children could grow up to be whatever they desired.

Gaia, even more so than Earth, was a planet besieged by war and strife but the Gaialian Empire was a place of freedom and prosperity. A place held up on the back of an all powerful being. Emperor Strom. Ray needed to become a man like the Emperor. If he could do that… Ray had met quite a few of the most powerful people in the Empire and they all had one thing in common. Burgen was the only one that lacked the trait but there was an obvious reason for that. He could no longer grow more powerful.

His life was essentially on the downswing. Much like the Emperor.

'So everyone is desperately trying to become powerful enough,' he thought.

'Now that I think about it, I could see it in their eyes.' Chronos showed the most signs of this trait. For a man capable of leveling mountains, he came off as someone who was grasping at straws. Desperation. It was really even deeper than that. Humanity has struggled for one thing since its inception. Survival. Desperately, humans have clung to life with tooth and nail. Ray had been brought to the point of seeking death more than once.

One of the times being the most recent life-hopping venture he had found himself on. Another failure added to the list, so he did as he always did. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. He ignored it. Stuff the bad emotions in a dark corner of his brain. Works every time. Only now, he had found himself in a race for power in a war he had no place in. The high of wielding elemental powers and inhuman strength took him to depths he had yet to dive.

The line between man and monster had blurred. Ray wasn't sure what he was becoming. Every turn left him at a loss of direction for continuing forward. Focus on power again? That could work. As well as a band-aid on a bullet wound. Maybe the blood flow pauses for a moment but the torrent following the dam breaking would be even worse than he had fared so far. It was just another form of ignoring his problems until they became too big to avoid. Give up? Maybe.

One good Bolt to the face and he was onto the next magical world. If there was one. No. Ray had a feeling there wasn't. No more chances. This was it. His mind seemed to melt as he unfocused his eyes and just… Sat there. He just sat there, letting it all fade away. Once his mind was fully clear, a trick he learned from Rize's meditation teachings, he felt a comforting calm. Nothing could affect him at this moment. A glimmer of something caught his attention.

Something left behind after the wave had taken it all away. When he first noticed it, it was only a small spark, but now that he had begun to watch, it sprang to life. Growing and growing. Before he could look away, it burned brighter than anything he had ever seen. Ray could feel his body react, growing hotter along with the flame burning in his mind.

'I can feel it,' he thought.

'I thought it was gone.' A feeling Ray had given up on but when faced with true finality, came flooding back. Pride. - When he was a child, Ray had dreams of becoming a rockstar. He loved to sing popular songs and bang on household items, mimicking the people from music videos he had seen on TV. His family wasn't well off but his mother managed to scrape together enough for his first guitar. Ray being the only child they planned to raise made him the target of their affection.

As frugal as they had to be with said affection. That was the start of a lifelong pursuit. Years of his life were spent writing songs and practicing. Just like most things, reality didn't meet his expectations. Art was difficult. Unlike more concrete things, art was subjective. And unfortunately, the artist had as much impact on how the art was viewed as the art itself. Ray didn't realize that in order to make his art better, he needed to become better. Life mimics art, as art exposes life.

If he could become better in life his art would follow suit. There was a kind of pride in that. A pride he had been chasing for a long time. Ray could remember his mother's face when he played her his first fully realized song. He had spent hours perfecting the chord progression, followed by weeks of practice. He wrote the lyrics about emotions he felt in his real life, being sure to mimic the cadence and schemes he heard on the radio. It was a real song, his mother's smile and warm praise even said so.

Ray made song after song after that. Each one was better than the last. Years passed. Ray studied music theory. Learned multiple instruments. Took creative writing classes to improve his penmanship. Hundreds and hundreds of songs. Each one he would play for his mother, his chest swelling with pride as the first note rang out. His mom even voiced his growth, a soft smile accompanying her supportive words. Everyone knew Ray made music.

Most people politely left it unsaid but a few people in his life even complimented him on it. A small town didn't breed many musicians. It was a novelty at the least. Eventually, Ray fell behind in his studies. School was hard to focus on when music was his passion. It required all of his attention. Ray's mother was his biggest supporter, even though they shared no actual blood. The woman had raised him; he owed everything to her, and he considered her his actual mother. Blood be damned.

So when she told him to get a job, he did. His foster father was a hard-working man and passed away shortly before. The man had always been distant, not showing Ray the love his mother had, so the death was painful but manageable. Getting a job to help with the house made focusing on music even more difficult. This led Ray to a crossroads. Ultimately, he dropped out of school to work full time and pursue music. This was how he spent the following decade.

He had managed to become assistant manager at his job, allowing him to move to the city and into a small apartment. His mother was still at home, living the last of her years a widow and mostly alone. This helped Ray remain distracted. Caring for her kept him from dwelling on his lack of success in life and music. He still played for her every time he visited. One day, shortly before she passed, Ray's mother was listening quietly while he played her some of the latest things he was working on.

The two sat on the porch of his childhood home. The wind smelled of rain and bonfire smoke.

"So I think this will be the first single," Ray said.

"I think this fits well into the sound I'm going for. I really can't wait for you to hear the full project." Ray's mother smiled warmly at him. She had trouble being completely lucid recently, but was as sharp as he had seen her in days at the moment.

"Oh, Raymond," she said.

"What was the very first song you wrote called? I can't seem to remember. Something about your cousin Jaime, right?"

"You know, that was always my favorite."

"You were always my little Rockstar." Ray had heard this sentiment from his mother before, smiling and rubbing her arm affectionately in return.

"I don't remember, mom," he said.

"It's been a long time." His mother didn't respond, her mind seemingly going to wherever it went in recent times. A nagging itch resided in Ray's chest. The ever-wavering pride he felt in not only his music but himself waned. Even his own mother thought he was chasing a peak he reached as a child. He knew it came from a place of love but Ray couldn't help but consider the implications. Had he truly been improving? Or was he just chasing a feeling he had when he first realized his passion for music?

Ray had convinced himself he continued due to his love of creating but was that the truth? Kind of. He truly loved doing it but the lack of recognition left a hole in his heart. Even his own mother just wanted to hear the song that reminded her of better times. This was, unknown to him, the final straw in Ray's first life. Shortly after, his mother passed and things continued to spiral. He put his pride to the side. The following years of his life were all failed attempts at subverting himself.

All the way until he barely even existed. Leading to his eventual botched suicide attempt and the rollercoaster he currently found himself on. The world of magic and monsters had been a good distraction but his curse seemed to follow him to this life as well. Ray felt fear when he realized the Empire was watching his every move through the System and that his goal to defeat the Beasts was most likely futile, but that was just more of a reason to give it his all.

'Chronos said it himself,' Ray thought.

'They were using me as motivation for the other people in the program. Why can't I just continue doing that?'

'Just try and keep up with me.'