Meeting #74

As I slowly emerged from the fog of unconsciousness on the sterile operation table, I couldn't deny the surge of vitality coursing through my veins. Sure, there was a lingering itchiness, but it was overshadowed by this newfound vigor. Before I could even fully appreciate it, a notification from the system rudely interrupted my moment of zen.

[You have attained the Atlantean Physiology. Would you like to incorporate it into the system?]

I furrowed my brow at the unexpected prompt. Could the system really snag powers from outside its virtual shelves? "What's the catch?" I wondered, and sure enough, the system had an answer ready.

[By incorporating the Atlantean Physiology into the system, you'd be able to edit and upgrade it using points the same as any purchase from the system's shop.]

I rolled my eyes internally. "No thanks," I thought, dismissing the notification with a mental flick.

It irked me that the first time I managed to level up on my own, the system was already trying to get its grubby digital hands on it. Call me paranoid, but something about that felt fishy. 

I'd always believed that nothing came for free and harbored doubts about the system from day one. I'd even toyed with the idea of cutting ties with it eventually, but it seemed like I'd have to act on that plan sooner than expected. After all, what's given can always be taken away, and I wasn't about to let someone else hold my cards for me. 

With a sense of purpose driving me forward, I pushed aside my concerns about the system's intentions and focused on the task at hand: helping Aquaman and the Atlanteans win this war. With a determined sigh, I reached for the edge of the bed, intending to rise and face the challenges ahead.

But as luck would have it, my attempt to stand ended in an unexpected disaster. My grip on the bed was apparently too strong, causing it to crumble beneath my touch. Before I could recover from the embarrassment, the door swung open, and in walked the familiar fishman soldier I'd encountered back in Tretonis.

"You're finally awake, I see," he greeted me with a smile, his eyes sweeping over the room. "It'll take a while to get used to your new strength... I can take you to Poseidonis' training yard to help you get accustomed to it," he offered, moving to assist me up before hesitating, likely remembering my superhuman strength.

I couldn't help but chuckle at his cautiousness as I slowly rose to my feet. "No need for that," I assured him, retrieving a pen from my shadow storage. "I've already got a handle on it," I added, twirling the pen between my fingers to demonstrate my control.

With the added strength of the Atlantean physiology, every part of me felt like a potential weapon. And with my skill that made me a master of all things weapon-related, well, let's just say I was feeling pretty unstoppable. Definitely worth the points I'd invested in it.

The fishman soldier's eyes widened in awe at my display. "Impressive..." he murmured, quickly regaining his composure. "In that case, I'll take you to meet King Arthur and the generals. They'll soon begin discussing our plan of action," he informed me, gesturing toward the door.

"Sounds like a plan. The sooner we get this show on the road, the sooner I can wrap things up here and get back to the surface," I replied with a grin, ready to face whatever challenges awaited me.

...

As Aquaman and the Atlantean generals gathered around a large, intricately carved table in the war room of Poseidonis, tension hung thick in the air. The threat of the highly intelligent jellyfish army loomed large, and every strategy, every decision, could mean the difference between victory and defeat for Atlantis.

The generals, their expressions stern and focused, debated fiercely, voices rising and falling as they discussed tactics and contingencies. Aquaman, sitting at the head of the table, listened intently, occasionally interjecting with his own insights and suggestions.

Just as the discussion reached a critical point, the door to the war room creaked open, and Micah was ushered in by the fishman soldier who had accompanied him earlier. The generals' eyes flickered with irritation at the sight of the surface dweller intruding on their meeting, but they remained silent, choosing to ignore his presence rather than address it.

Micah, unfazed by the chilly reception, took a seat at the far end of the table, his expression neutral as he observed the proceedings. He knew he wasn't exactly welcome here, but he had a stake in this fight too, whether the Atlanteans liked it or not.

Aquaman, noticing the generals' discomfort but choosing to respect their silence, cleared his throat and addressed the room. "Gentlemen, I understand that Micah's presence may be... unexpected," he began, casting a glance in Micah's direction. "But rest assured, he's here to aid us in any way he can. His abilities would prove invaluable in this battle."

One of the generals couldn't resist voicing his skepticism. "So long as the surface dweller doesn't muck things up and follows orders, I suppose we can tolerate his company," he remarked, his tone dripping with barely concealed scorn.

Aquaman shot the general a pointed look, silently reprimanding him for his rudeness. Yet, the general remained defiant, meeting Aquaman's gaze with a willful stare of his own. Micah, however, merely chuckled at the general's snide comment, his laid-back demeanor undisturbed by the hostility directed his way.

When Aquaman opened the floor for suggestions, Micah seized the opportunity to speak up, much to the generals' chagrin. Ignoring their disapproving glares, he posed a question that seemed to catch them off guard.

"What's the endgame here, folks? What do you hope to achieve?" Micah asked, his tone sincere and direct.

The generals exchanged incredulous looks, clearly taken aback by Micah's audacity. One of them scoffed, his expression dripping with condescension. "What else but victory would we aim for?" he retorted, regarding Micah as if he were a naive child.

Micah, however, remained unfazed by the general's derision, his grin widening as he offered his perspective. "It's not about winning or losing the war...." he explained calmly. 

"It's about how you want to win this war. Will you settle for just shooing the jellyfish people away? Wipe them out for good? Maybe teach 'em a lesson they won't soon forget, make 'em think twice before invading again?" he suggested, his gaze steady and unwavering.

Despite the generals' skepticism, Micah's words hung in the air, forcing them to ponder the true scope of their ambitions in the impending conflict.

Aquaman shook his head firmly, his voice carrying the weight of his authority. "Extermination is off the table. As king of the oceans and seas, those jellyfish may be discontent with my rule, but they're still my subjects, and I'm bound to protect them," he declared, dismissing any notions of annihilation with a wave of his hand.

One of the generals let out a derisive snort. "Even if we wanted to wipe them out, it's not like we have the means to do so," he remarked, shaking his head ruefully. "With their sheer numbers, our best hope is a pyrrhic victory, pushing them back but sustaining heavy losses in the process," he added, his expression grave.

Micah's grin widened as he addressed the skeptical general. "Ah, but who's to say you can't secure a decisive win with minimal casualties? I definitly didn't," he interjected, his tone confident. 

"Sure, the jellyfish might outnumber you, but how many of them would it take to beat one atlantian soldier? Quality trumps quantity any day of the week." he quipped, raising an eyebrow challengingly.

The general's frown deepened at Micah's remark. "War isn't as simple as you make it out to be, surface dweller," he retorted, his tone tinged with irritation. 

"There are countless variables to consider—environmental factors, troop morale, battle formations. After careful deliberation, we've determined that a pyrrhic victory is our best bet," he explained. "We know the capabilities of our soldiers better than anyone, after all." He concluded with a note of finality in his tone. 

Micah chuckled at the general's assertion, lifting his hand with a smirk playing on his lips. "Can't argue with you there about your soldiers' capabilities," he conceded, his voice casual yet confident as he summoned a shimmering orb of magic light into his palm.

"But do you know my own capabilities?" he continued, his words trailing off as the orb dispersed, scattering into a cascade of radiant specks that enveloped everyone in the war room with their ethereal glow.

"If you were aware that I can temporarily enhance everyone's strength, speed, and durability twofold with my magic," Micah posed, his tone laced with intrigue, "would you still insist that a pyrrhic victory is the best you can aim for?"