Sidekick by Carl Stubblefield (10 best novels of all time .txt) 📗

like he had to help anyone? The feeling he had after helping the family and even the pirates came back to him. That seemed pure. Worth pursuing when compared to other things that he had dedicated vastly larger amounts of time trying to achieve.

He weighed what Dave had told him, and found that he didn’t feel stupid for the choices he had made. Maybe he couldn’t save the world, but he saw that, at his core, he wanted to try. He knew it was an impossible feat, and would probably be filled with heartache and disappointment. Not probably. Definitely. And that was okay. He could do it without guilt.

Still Gus fell inwards. He felt like he was getting smaller and smaller as more and more flaked away from his core being. He could feel the last layer surrounding him exposed as the guilt was gone. An outer shell, hardened from being compacted for so long. Regret. All the missed chances not taken because of fear.

Fear of failure, of persecution, sometimes of the truth. Of avoiding responsibility and missed opportunities. Avoiding the pain that would lead to growth. Unwilling to suffer to get to a better place. Fear of rejection or ridicule for failure. And underneath it all, the regret of allowing that fear to control him. He felt regret that he had possibly worked for some very bad people, and was complicit in the things they had done, by supporting them, even if indirectly. Fear crept in at the unknown effects of his participation with these men.

As he fell, none of that mattered anymore. So many fears that never came to be. No future to ruin with bad choices. Nothing left to regret. While he could not repair any damage he had done or lives he had hurt, he could dedicate himself to a new path to atone for his mistakes.

Cracks appeared in this last shell and as it broke away, Gus basked in the glow from what remained. Free of all else, he felt himself expanding, and he opened his eyes.

Chapter Forty-One

Freedom

As Gus looked outward, he felt himself become awake again. He was sure that he wasn’t dreaming, per se. But it was probably dream-adjacent. The wind whistled as it had for who knew how long. With nothing left to do, Gus stared into the deep. A slight pulse like a phosphene ghost blinked at the corner of his vision. It disturbed his peace and he looked at it. It was faint, but was that the message icon?

A little focused attention and a very dim display opened up. He listlessly checked his status screen and logs. Some new messages greeted him, but they scrolled by quickly, disappearing after he barely read them:

You have leveled up the skill: Mindfulness to Level 3!

600 XP awarded.

600 FP awarded.

You have leveled up the skill: Mindfulness to Level 4!

800 XP awarded.

800 FP awarded.

You have leveled up the skill: Mindfulness to Level 5!

1,000 XP awarded.

1,000 FP awarded.

You have leveled up the skill: Mindfulness to Level 6!

1,200 XP awarded.

1,200 FP awarded.

You have leveled up the skill: Mindfulness to Level 7!

1,400 XP awarded.

1,400 FP awarded.

You have leveled up the skill: Mindfulness to Level 8!

1,600 XP awarded.

1,600 FP awarded.

Congratulations! You have unlocked the skill: True Sight [Passive]!

True Sight: You have looked beyond what is false for long enough to gain a certain sense of clarity. You now can perceive truth more readi—

That was all he could read before the message scrolled away and was gone. After the messages vanished, he was surprised to see that he was no longer in total darkness.

The faint outlines of a unique manipulation of ether could barely be seen if he squinted his eyes. He recognized two portals embedded seamlessly into the weave that he now understood were unique manipulations related to his Xyzzy skill. He saw himself fall through the portal below, transporting him to the portal above, over and over again. As he stared at the shape more and more, it resembled one of those impossible optical illusions that could be drawn but not fashioned in three dimensions. The warping and portals created a space akin to a three-dimensional Moebius strip. Too much movement in any direction would merely take you to the other side, indefinitely.

Once the secret was revealed, Gus could see where some areas were twisted, reminiscent of how clowns twisted balloons to make the small compartments that comprised a balloon animal.

Knowing where to look, Gus made several attempts to attach an ether leash to the focal point, but it kept slipping off. His falling momentum made timing difficult as he zipped by, with only a fraction of a second to make the grab. It was as maddening as trying to win a stuffed animal from a weak claw toy. Likewise, his weave was weak and stunted, despite how hard he pushed to create it.

It didn’t help that he was moving by as quickly as he was, and that his slight movements sometimes changed his position so that the area he was trying to manipulate was in a different spot than expected. Gus calmed himself and let go of his frustration. Where else was he going? What else did he have to do?

With the release of tension, success came at last. The weave attached and as Gus reached the end of the ether leash, his momentum stretched the weave, slowing his descent. With a sudden yank, the weave came to the end of its length and ability to expand. This strain transferred to the focal point and Gus worried that it would merely shake loose.

It did not. The thin weave of the pit in this area was torn in half, and Gus saw a sight that almost made him weep. Just like an unfinished bag of holding, breaking destabilized the construct and it began to unravel. Filaments fizzled and sparked into nothingness as they flipped and flopped, burning like a hybrid of an unmanned fire hose and a lit firework fuse. The simple sparking was more beautiful