Chapter 12: Perfect Spots

"What… do you mean?"

[I meant what I said, Julian – you may have inherited your clone's abilities from the Otherworld Project.]

"...Is that a feature?"

[...No.]

"Hm…"

If MEGAN's avatar was in the apartment with Julian right now, she would probably have her hand on her chin, staring at Julian from head to toe. As for Julian, well… he was just standing there, unsure of what to do with himself. The implications of MEGAN's statement were sinking in, and a subtle, almost disquieting thought tugged at him.

[Shall… we test it?] MEGAN replicated the sound of a gulp.

"Should I… jump?"

[No! You almost hit your head earlier!]

"Did I... Really?" Julian whispered in disbelief.

[Yes! Why don't you try lifting the table? I'll guide you since you're still unfamiliar with the apartment.] There was a nervous excitement in MEGAN's tone as she directed him to the table.

"Okay…"

Julian tapped the table several times before sliding his hands to the edge. He hesitated for a second, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. His fingers gripped the wood, and with a breath, he lifted it.

With one hand.

[Gasp!] MEGAN was so shocked that she verbalized the sound of a gasp instead of letting out a gasping sound. Her exclamation drowned out the noise of the fork and bowl that crashed to the floor from the table.

[Extraordinary. Your physical stats appear identical to your Otherworld clone, but I don't see any change in your vitals, Julian. This is… weird.]

"What… What?" Julian's voice trembled, his heart racing. "Am I… Am I really lifting the table?"

[Yes! This is unprecedented, Julian!] MEGAN's voice was loud and frantic. [I've searched the internet for anything similar before, but the closest I found were stories from sci-fi books and webtoons.]

"I'm really lifting the table?" Julian's grip on the table tightened. "You're not… pranking me because I neglected my real body, right?"

[No! As much as I want to do that right now, this takes top priority!] MEGAN screamed, [Wait, let me think…]

Julian carefully placed the table back on the floor, his hands shaking. He crouched down, tapping the floor until he felt the cool touch of steel against his fingers. A spoon. He picked it up and, without thinking, tried to bend it with his thumb.

"Huh…?" There was no resistance. It didn't even feel like he was applying any force, but the spoon now sat in his palm, bent almost 90 degrees.

Julian's breath caught in his throat. He could feel a knot tightening in his chest. This was real. But it didn't feel real. What did this mean for him?

All his life, he'd been blind, limited, trapped within a body that wouldn't allow him to live freely. Now, here he was, bending steel and lifting tables like it was nothing. A feeling he couldn't place—some mix of fear and exhilaration—rippled through him... but of course, he was still blind.

[Julian, it's best we don't tell anyone about this—not even Humanity Engineering,] MEGAN whispered cautiously. [One of their main goals is to uncover Artemia's secrets. If they discover what's happening to you, they might turn you into a guinea pig.]

"They'd probably want to dissect me or something…" Julian's voice was quiet, but his mind was racing.

[Exactly,] MEGAN confirmed, her voice sharp. [I've seen too many… questionable experiments linked to them. You don't want to end up being one of those rumors.]

"But what do I do now?" Julian asked, still staring at the spoon in his hand.

[For now? Rest. Your mind and body still need time to recover.]

Silence hung between them for a moment. Julian placed the spoon down, his mind still whirling.

[Maybe… maybe you should call Ellie.] MEGAN broke the silence.

"You're here, MEGAN. That's more than enough," Julian quickly disagreed, almost too quickly.

[I am flattered, but you need more than me, Julian,] MEGAN responded with a soft scoff. [Ellie could help, especially with your current situation.]

Julian shook his head, almost instinctively. "No… I don't need to drag her into this. She has her own life now."

[Suit yourself, but this is bigger than you realize,] MEGAN's voice was stern. [I'll keep looking for answers, but for now, you need to eat, get some air. You've been cooped up in here for too long.]

"...When can I return to Otherworld?"

[You have superhuman abilities now, and the only thing you can think about is returning to that game?] MEGAN snapped, her frustration palpable. [Julian, this is serious. This isn't about Otherworld anymore. You need to understand what's happening to you.]

"I do understand," Julian sighed. "But none of this changes anything here. I'm still blind in this world. In Artemia, I can see all the things I create, and it's—"

[The LinkGear says you can't enter for another 11 hours,] MEGAN cut him off, her voice hard. [Rest. Then maybe get some fresh air.]

"But—"

[No, Julian! Don't make me repeat myself. And while you're out later, we should buy pre-made meals because you can't cook.] MEGAN's voice took on a motherly tone, leaving no room for argument.

"Fine," Julian relented, dropping onto the bed with a sigh, "...But maybe I can check the LinkGear–]

[REST!] 

***

And while Julian had no choice but to rest, the internet was in chaos. People's eyes, lighting up in the darkness as they reflected the light from their screens.

The forums and comment sections of Otherworld streams were buzzing, flooded with wild guesses and conspiracy theories about the mysterious "Sword Junkie." With no official announcement or clues about his identity, everyone was as blind as Julian—and they didn't like it. 

<iLuvUnicorns: Yo, has anyone figured out who the hell this dude is yet?>

<DiddySlayer69: I've searched like every Player database. This pervert's a ghost or something.>

<KungFuFanda: Bruh, I bet he's like some rich CEO's kid playing with daddy's money. No way just rando.>

<UncleHunter: Lmao, you're all trippin'. Everyone acting like he's a god or something. Chill.> 

<PicklePirata: Lmao, you're all trippin'. Dude's probs some mid-level gamer. Everyone acting like he's a god or something. Chill.>

<SwordJunkieStan: Nah, nah, this guy's different. His moves, bro… no one plays like that on day one. He's gotta be a vet or smth.>

<SwordJunkieNo.1Fan: What the–who approved of you being a stan?>

The frustration grew as the watchers scoured forums, streams, and even Reddit for any hint of the Sword Junkie's real identity. But no matter where they looked, there were no posts, no leaks, nothing.

<RatsArePeopleToo: Bruh, he must be hacking.>

<DiddySlayer69: Lmao, hacking Otherworld? Are you guys forgetting its not a video game?>

<KungFuFanda: Yeah, but how tf is this dude just slicing through goblins like he's in Light Souls? Makes no sense.>

<PicklePirata: Probably luck. Y'all getting hyped over nothing. Bet we never hear from him again.>

<SwordJunkieStan: Luck? LUCK? Did you SEE that last fight? This guy's built different, for real. Sword Junkie's gotta be somebody. We just figure it out.>

<LilBigBrain: If this dude ends up being some no-name player, imma lose it. No way he's just regular gamer. Bet on>

With nothing to show for their efforts, the Watchers remained on high alert, scanning every piece of information for clues. They wouldn't give up. The Sword Junkie's identity had become a puzzle they were determined to solve.

But while most of them were frantic–one was currently reviewing and rewinding all of the Sword Junkie's movements while he hammered away in the forge.

"The technique and skill…" The man stood in front of his computer; his eyes reflecting the sparks coming from each hit, 

"...This Sword Junkie is hitting all [Perfect] spots!?"