Chapter 3: Arete

James reread his personal statistics. They reminded him of the Dungeons and Dragons game hed played back in high school. But none of the rest made any sense.

Definitely Catholic, murmured Serenity. All this miracle and benediction shit? Man am I relieved to have been born into the right religion. Sucks to be you, rest of the world.

You got none next to everything?

Except for my rank and Aeviternum Points, whatever that is, said Serenity distractedly. Ooh. Focus on your unspent points, and it shows you where you can spend them.

James did so, exhaustion and blood loss and the booze making him feel like he was floating. The first half of the sheet disappeared, leaving only the Strength and other stuff.

Whats Arete? he asked.

That I dont know. Why dont we have Beauty as a stat? Or Wealth? Give me some Power sounds good. And some Agility. And oh, I always wanted to be strong.

James dismissed his own sheet to watch Serenity. Shed gone still, sat up straighter, was frowning as she stared down at herself.

Shed changed.

It was subtle, but it was there. Her face had filled out a little, losing some of that rawboned gauntness, and she just looked healthier. James had seen every kind of addiction during his past life, and then even more so once going homeless. Hed learned to spot desperation, febrile need, the monster that once awakened never went back to sleep.

Serenity still had her edge, but now now it looked as if the clock had been rewound on her by a few years. As if shed not made quite as many mistakes, spent quite as many nights losing sight of her dreams.

Damn, she whispered huskily, and then gave a startled laugh. This I mean, this is better than what the fuck?

James felt a shiver of excitement. It actually works?

Try it for yourself. Yeah it works.

He summoned his statistics, considered them carefully. They were all self-explanatory but for Arete. Five points. He could give one to each of his physical stats, an even spread. Or focus on one element. What would give him an edge against another Gremlin?

Speed? Strength? Stamina?

For long, aching minutes he considered. Speed was probably just how fast he could go in a run. But there was no outrunning the little shit. Agility then would be hand to eye coordination, reflexes, maybe. Since he was planning on getting a gun, that would be his best stat. If he shot the fucker before it got close he wouldnt need to be strong or resilient.

James hesitated.

His gaze dropped to Arete.

What was that? Why was it listed?

Can I borrow your phone? he asked Serenity.

She hesitated good and long before unlocking and handing it to him, but he didnt judge her for it. A moment later he Googled Arete.

The first result had a weird accent over it and meant a sharp mountain ridge.

He scrolled down.

Wikipedia saved the day. It was an Ancient Greek term that referred to excellence of any kind, especially a person or things full realization of potential of inherent function.

James looked off into the middle distance, considering. Excellence of any kind, the full realization of potential.

That sounded pretty good.

Moreover, it felt right. He understood so little of what was going on. Half his statistics sheet was filled with terms that meant nothing to him. Spending points on Agility had an immediate appeal, but he intuited that there were far greater depths of development available to him in this new system, and that if he only had control over where he spent these five points, he should sink them into what might be the key to unlocking the rest.

He activated the Unspent Points, then simply willed them all into Arete.

Arete 13

He dismissed the menu. Serenity was watching him with avid fascination. Well?

I dont know. He still felt loopy. Maybe he should have dropped some points into Stamina to give himself a boost. But there was a new edge to the world. He felt more alert? No. More in control of himself. He raised his hand. It trembled slightly. So not control exactly, but more prepared? Focused?

What did you raise, already?

Arete.

Thats it?

Thats it.

So what are you at now?

Thirteen.

No way! So what does that mean?

I dont know. That Ive just raised my potential? Im not sure.

He reviewed his statistics and saw a new change:

Aura: Lead

Aura Strength: 1

What? demanded Serenity.

Im bleeding, because a fucking I dont even know what it was, a – a – demon? A shit chimpanzee? It broke into my house and I killed it, and oh gawd –

Serenity swiped to another video. A burly dude with broken glasses was holding up a black blood-smeared axe. You need to listen to me. You need to pay very, very close attention. They can be killed. Do not be afraid. The government has finally unleashed their weapon. When it comes for you, be ready. Get an axe, get a gun, nowhere is safe. Be prepared to fight for your life.

Swipe.

What the fuck? Oh – oh – oh shit, what can you see it? Right here, can you see it? Why is nobody fucking reacting –

The blood-drenched young man aimed his camera at the dead gremlin on the ground. Around him others stared in horrid fascination at him, not seeing the corpse.

Herman! Serenity waved him over. You see this? Can you see whats on the floor?

Herman leaned in close then recoiled. Argh! What the hell, Serenity? Dont show me that kind of stuff. I curate my headspace carefully –

So you see it?

He stared at her wonderingly. Of course I see that. Was it a prank? Wait, was that real?

James pulled out his phone. It was almost useless. No carrier meant he could only use it where there was Wi-Fi, and hed lost his charger in his backpack. Still, he had 20% battery left. He scanned the wall, saw the Wi-Fi info, logged in.

Hesitated. Where should he go?

He had to get the word out.

But where could he post it?

How could he establish his credibility?

Serenity, he said. Where will a video get the most views?

These days? She considered. TikTok.

Fine. It took him a couple of minutes to make an account, then he handed the phone to Serenity and stood. Record me.

What even is this? she asked, turning his phone around.

Serenity!

Fine, fine. Ready? Go.

James drew himself up and stared into the little camera. My name is James Kelly. I was an Emergency Medical Technician for seven years in New York City. Tonight I was attacked by something called Nemesis 1, just like thousands of others around the world.

He paused, took a breath, forced himself to go on.

Nobody knows what is happening, but what we do know is this: Nemesis 1 can be killed, so arm yourself. They attack with bites and claws, so get protective clothing and gear if you can. These attacks have only been part of a first wave, so there will be more. They can be seen when recorded, but otherwise only by those theyve come for. Please. This isnt a joke. These arent dog attacks. Fuck, keep your dogs close, they can help. But if this hasnt happened to you yet, get ready, because it might, and thousands are dying right now because theyre not ready.

Another deep breath.

This will only get worse till the news and the police and hospital staff start telling the truth: were under attack. Humanity is under attack, and the only way were going to survive is if we get ready and fight back.

James hesitated, then nodded to Serenity, who lowered her phone.

A little too serious for me, she said. A bit too much of the crazy earnest vibe, you know? But fuck, lets tag the shit out of it and post it. You never know.

Yeah, breathed James, suddenly exhausted. Yeah. Good.

They sat on their bar stools again.

Herman was staring at him. You really believe all that?

James held his stare. I do.

Herman nodded, reached under the bar, and pulled out a shotgun. Well all right.

Serenity looked sidelong at James. You were an EMT? For real?

Dont want to talk about it.

All right, all right, dont get your panties twisted. But the videos uploaded. Ready to become famous?

Famous?

Sure. This is all just breaking. Maybe youll be the first to go viral.

Whatever. Just post it.

And done. The truth is out there.

James sagged and looked up at the TV where a reporter was earnestly interviewing an older man with an image of a raccoon inserted in the upper right.

Fuck me, he whispered. Herman?

Yeah?

Another whiskey.

The bartender gave him a curt nod. You got it.

And for the first time in far too long, James saw an old emotion in another persons eyes: respect.