The Next Day -
Waking up felt…normal. Which, considering everything I did yesterday, should be more than a little concerning.
There's no lingering fatigue beyond what I'd expect from actually pushing my body. No headaches, no delayed consequences from overusing [Pyrokinesis], nothing. If anything, I feel better than I did before I went to sleep.
I feel stronger.
Not in some exaggerated, dramatic way, but enough that I can tell the difference without having to check my status screen. My body responds a bit faster, my breathing is more controlled, and even just sitting here feels…cleaner.
The system wasn't lying; growth comes from action. Which means that yesterday had meaning. Not just the fire, not just the training, and definitely not just Max. As useful as she is, and as necessary as she'll be later on, she isn't the true foundation of anything I'm building.
She's a tool. An important one, but still a tool.
The cult comes first.
Max is just someone I plan on taking with me. Someone I keep close because of what she can do, not because of who she is. She'll be useful in other worlds, and eventually she'll sit high enough to matter, but she isn't what everything revolves around, belief is.
The system didn't give me [Cultist] for no reason, and it definitely didn't hand me a class like that just for me to ignore it. If I want real power—consistent power—then I need people who believe in something. People who believe in me. And more importantly, people who don't realize that's what they're doing until it's too late to stop.
Carrie is the first step.
Max is just part of the process.
Yesterday, I watched, but today, I move. Just enough to exist without being ignored. A nod here. A short response there. I'll let people see me without giving them anything to actually think about. It's basic, but from my experience, it works faster than it should. People just don't seem to question what feels familiar. And by the time I make it to the courtyard, I can already see it settling in. A few longer glances, a couple of almost-interactions that don't quite happen.
And that's all I need.
- Later -
Max is exactly where I expected her to be.
Near the edge of the courtyard, camera in hand, pointed at absolutely nothing of importance. She looks like she's trying to focus, but it's obvious that her head isn't in it. There's a delay in the way she moves. The way she reacts. She's still stuck on yesterday.
It makes sense though; rewinding time isn't something you just brush off.
I don't walk up to her immediately. Instead, I position myself close enough that it wouldn't be strange if we talked, but not close enough that it looks like I'm trying to make it happen. Then I wait, and it doesn't even take as long as I expected.
She lowers her camera, glances around like she's trying to decide what to do next, and that's when I step in.
"Still trying to get the same shot?"
She flinches slightly before turning toward me, clearly not expecting anyone to speak to her.
It takes her a moment to recognize me, but after a second the realization shows obviously on her face.
"Oh—uh… Vincent, right," she asked, clearly flustered.
"Yeah," I say with a slight smile.
Remember kids, smiling makes you more attractive. Well, if you have a nice smile, at least.
"Sorry, I just—yesterday was kind of a lot." She said, finally starting to rise.
"I could tell," I replied with a light chuckle.
She lets out a small, awkward laugh, shifting her weight slightly.
"Is it that obvious?"
"You've been standing here for a while," I say. "Doesn't look like you've actually taken anything."
She glances down at her camera like she forgot it was in her hands.
"…Yeah. I've just been thinking."
"About something you don't really want to say out loud," I reply, almost questioningly.
She pauses.
It wasn't a defensive pause, it wasn't even an uncomfortable one. If anything, she just seemed caught off guard.
"…Maybe," she admits after a second.
I shrug.
"You don't have to." I replied.
No follow-up, no pressure, just an option.
We stood there for a bit without saying anything. It's not awkward, but it's not exactly comfortable either, just quiet.
Max breaks the silence.
"Do you ever feel like something already happened, but you're the only one who remembers it?" she asks, her voice a little quieter than before.
I glance at her.
"Yeah."
That's all I give her.
She studies my face like she's trying to figure out if I'm messing with her.
"You're not even going to question that?"
"Should I?"
"I mean… it's kind of a weird thing to say."
"People say weird things when they're trying to explain something they don't understand," I reply with another shrug. "Doesn't mean it's wrong."
She exhales slowly, like that helped more than she expected it to.
"…That actually makes me feel a little better."
"Well, that's good. I've never minded helping pretty faces"
I let a bit of heat slip. Not enough for anyone else to notice. Just enough for her.
Max reacts immediately, blushing at my words, but then having her focus shifted due to the heat.
"…Okay, I'm not crazy, right?" she says, looking around slightly. "It's getting warm again."
I pause, like I'm just noticing it.
"…Yeah. I feel it."
Her expression shifts almost instantly. Relief. Confusion. Something else underneath that she hasn't figured out yet.
"You felt it yesterday too," she says.
"I thought I did."
"That's not how that works," she mutters.
"Maybe not," I reply. "But it's happening."
She looks down at her hands for a second.
"…It only happens when I'm around you," she says.
I don't respond right away, taking a moment to feign conflict across my face.
Then—
"Or you just notice it more when I'm around."
"That's not better."
"I didn't say it was."
She exhales slowly.
"…This is so weird."
"Yeah."
We start walking without really deciding to. Just moving through the courtyard like it's something we were already doing.
"I didn't tell anyone about yesterday," she says after a bit.
"I wouldn't either."
She glances at me.
"You don't even know what I'm talking about."
"I know enough," I say. "You're not acting like someone who had a normal day."
"That's… fair."
She hesitates, then keeps going.
"It felt real," she says. "Like actually real. Not like I imagined it or dreamed it. I remember everything."
Her grip tightens around her camera.
"And then it just… didn't happen."
I nod slightly.
"Sounds frustrating."
"That's a really calm way to react to that."
"Panicking doesn't help," I reply. "Understanding it might."
She goes quiet again.
We stop near the steps leading into the building. There's far more people here, which means far more noise.
The moment shifts a little.
Max notices it.
"Do you have time later?" she asks. "I don't really want to just… drop this."
"You can find me."
She nods.
"Okay. I will."
Before she leaves, I let the heat spike again.
Stronger this time, but still very controlled.
She freezes mid-step.
"…Okay, yeah. That's definitely not normal," she says, turning back toward me.
"Probably not."
"You're not even surprised."
"I am," I reply. "I just don't see how it could change anything"
"Because it doesn't make sense."
"It doesn't have to."
She looks like she wants to argue.
She doesn't.
Instead, she just watches me for a second longer than she probably realizes.
"…I'll find you later," she says again.
"Alright."
She walks off, but I don't watch her for long. There's no point. Max is moving exactly how I need her to. She's questioning things, noticing patterns, and trying to make sense of something she doesn't understand. That's enough for now. She'll come back on her own.
They always do.
Besides, the important part is already done.
[Sub-Quest Created]
[CULT FOUNDATION]
— Secure First Follower (In Progress)
— Establish Belief Structure (Pending)
— Develop Pantheon (Pending)
Max noticing me is useful. Carrie believing in me is power.
There's a difference.
Max will walk beside me eventually. Learn with me. Travel with me. She'll be useful in ways most people couldn't even comprehend.
But Carrie?
Carrie is the beginning of something that doesn't rely on convenience or timing. She's the first person who will believe.
And once one person does…
It becomes a lot easier to make others follow.
I head inside as the bell rings, already planning the rest of the day.
Max first.
Carrie later.
Everything else comes after that.
- Max Caulfield -
The day shouldn't have escalated this quickly.
Max had woken up already on edge, already tired, already feeling like the world was just slightly off-center in a way she couldn't fix no matter how hard she tried to ignore it. She'd gone through the motions anyway—class, notes, pretending to listen, pretending to be normal. The only interesting occurrence was when she managed to bump into that one guy, Vincent.
She ignored the part of her head that automatically noted seeing him as the highlight of her day.
Now she's standing out in the courtyard near the main building, right by the steps where everyone tends to gather between classes, and Kate Marsh is being torn apart.
Not physically, although that would've been easier to process. No, this is worse. This is slow, public, and intentional.
Victoria is at the center of it, as always, phone in hand, voice light like she's just making conversation, acting as if she isn't ruining someone in real time.
"Wow, Kate," Victoria says, not even bothering to lower her voice. "You really went all out, didn't you?"
A few people laugh, not a lot, but it's enough for anyone in Kate's position to feel even shittier. It makes her stomach twist just thinking about it, but all she can do is just stand on the sidelines like a background character.
What a great friend she is. She should be helping Kate instead of just standing there, but no matter how much she wants to, she just can't move.
And because of it, her friend has to suffer more than she already has.
Kate looks like she hasn't slept in days. Her shoulders are drawn in, posture tight, like she's trying to make herself smaller in a space that won't let her disappear. Her hands are shaking just slightly at her sides, and she keeps glancing around like she's looking for an exit that isn't there.
"I didn't—" Kate starts, but her voice breaks halfway through.
Victoria tilts her head, fake sympathy written all over her face.
"Oh, don't," she says. "You're not going to pretend you don't remember. That's kind of insulting."
Another laugh follows, quieter this time, but still there.
Max doesn't move.
She should. She knows she should. Her body just… doesn't.
Because this feeling is familiar. Not the situation itself, but the hesitation. Standing still while something bad happens because she doesn't know how to step in without making it worse.
Her fingers twitch at her side.
She could rewind.
The thought comes too easily. Step in, mess it up, rewind, try again until she gets it right. The idea sits there, ready, waiting for her to reach for it.
Kate looks like she's about to cry.
"I don't remember any of it," she says, and that makes it worse. "I wouldn't do something like that. I wouldn't—"
"Then how'd the video happen?" someone mutters from the side.
That's enough.
Max forces herself to move.
"Hey," she says, stepping forward.
It's not loud, but it doesn't need to be. A few heads turn. Victoria looks at her like she's mildly amused.
"…Max," she says. "Do you have something to add?"
Max swallows, trying to steady herself.
"Maybe just… stop?" she says. "You don't know what actually happened."
Victoria raises an eyebrow.
"And you do?"
"No, but—"
"Then maybe don't insert yourself into something you don't understand."
Max opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Kate looks at her, and there's something in that look. Not anger. Not expectation. Just… hope.
And Max feels it slipping.
"I just think—" she tries again.
Victoria cuts her off.
"Yeah, you think a lot," she says. "That doesn't make you right."
A few people laugh again, and Max feels her face heat up.
This is going wrong.
She can feel it, clear as anything. One wrong word, one bad angle, and this only gets worse.
She could rewind. Fix it. Say something better.
Her hand curls slightly at her side—
"Victoria."
The voice cuts through everything.
Everyone looks in the direction it comes from.
Vincent is standing off to the side near the railing, and from the way he's looking at VIctoria she can only assume that he's been there long enough to understand the situation and only now decided to speak.
Max hadn't even noticed him.
Victoria frowns slightly. "…What?"
"You're dragging this out," he says, stepping forward just enough to be part of the conversation. "It's getting boring."
The tone is casual, like this doesn't matter to him at all.
Victoria's expression tightens just slightly. "I don't remember asking for your input."
"No, but you're getting it anyway."
He stops a few feet away. He doesn't crowd her, he doesn't step into her space. He gets just close enough to shift the focus onto him.
Max finds herself watching him without meaning to.
There's no hesitation in him. No awkwardness, no second-guessing. He stands there like he chose this moment, like he stepped into it on purpose instead of just sitting there reacting to it.
"That video," he continues, glancing briefly at her phone before looking back at her, "you don't actually care about it."
Victoria scoffs. "Excuse me?"
"You care about the reaction," he says. "The attention. The fact that everyone's looking at you right now."
There's a pause. Not complete silence, but close enough that it feels like it.
"That's not—" she starts.
He cuts her off before she can finish.
"If you actually thought she did something wrong, you wouldn't be putting on a show," he says. "You'd be handling it differently."
There's a shift in the crowd. A subtle shift, but a real one all the same.
Victoria notices, and Max has no doubt that everyone else can feel it too.
Her grip on the phone tightens. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Then prove me wrong," he replies. "Put the phone away. Drop it."
She doesn't.
Of course she doesn't.
Because now it's not about Kate anymore. Now it's about her. Or maybe…it always was?
Max feels it click into place. Vincent didn't defend Kate directly. He didn't argue facts or try to comfort her.
He just turned the attention, and that is far more effective against Victoria than just telling her off.
Victoria looks around. People are watching her now. Waiting for her reaction, and ready to judge at just a moment's notice.
The silence stretches just long enough to affect everyone.
"…Whatever," she says finally, rolling her eyes like it doesn't matter.
She lowers the phone. "Not worth it."
It's a weak exit, and everyone knows it, but it's still an exit.
The tension breaks. People start moving again, conversations picking back up like nothing happened.
But Kate doesn't.
She's still standing there, breathing uneven, eyes unfocused.
Max steps toward her. "Kate, are you—"
"I'm fine," Kate says quickly.
Too quickly.
She glances at Vincent for just a second, then back at Max. "…Thank you," she adds, quieter this time.
Max nods. "Yeah. Of course."
Kate leaves. Not running, but definitely faster than any normal walk would have to be.
It was saddening to see her go. Even Kate's walk looks like it's fueled by sadness incarnate.
And then it's just Max and Vincent.
There's a small pause before Max realizes she's still looking at him. She looks away first, trying to find something normal to say.
"…That was…," she starts, then stops, unsure how to finish it.
He shrugs slightly. "She would've kept going."
"…Yeah," Max says, shifting her weight. "I didn't handle that very well."
"You stepped in," he replies. "That's more than most people did."
Max glances back at him. "…You made it look easy."
"It wasn't."
"But you didn't hesitate."
He pauses, just for a second. "Neither did you."
Max lets out a small breath, something between a laugh and disbelief. "That's not true at all."
"It is," he says. "You just don't trust your first move yet."
She blinks at that.
It feels too specific. Like he's talking about more than just what happened, but before she can respond, she feels it again.
Warmth, and stronger this time. Not hot, but definitely there in a way that it obviously wasn't beforehand.
She stiffens slightly, glancing around without thinking. Vincent notices.
"…You feel that?" she asks before she can stop herself.
He tilts his head just slightly. "Yeah."
No confusion. No hesitation.
Max's heart skips.
"…It's been happening," she says, lowering her voice. "On and off. I thought I was imagining it."
"I don't think you are."
Something about the way he says that makes her chest tighten, though she's not sure why.
"…That's not exactly reassuring," she admits.
"It was never supposed to be."
She lets out a small, quiet laugh at that. "That's honest."
"I try."
The conversation settles for a moment after that, not awkward, just… still.
Max finds herself looking at him again, really looking this time. He's calm in a way that doesn't feel forced. Grounded. Like none of this is throwing him off.
Even the way he looks has a structure to it, even if it's chaotic in every other way. Max didn't really know how to explain it. It wasn't like he dressed like everyone else at Blackwell—he didn't. The jacket alone made that obvious.
Black, fitted properly, sharp in a way that made it look more deliberate than anything anyone else wore. It almost looked like leather, but cleaner, like it was actually taken care of. There were small details along the sleeves and shoulders, subtle enough that you wouldn't notice unless you were paying attention, but they were there.
Everything else matched it too—dark, simple, nothing out of place. It should've looked like he was trying too hard, but it didn't.
And then there was everything else. His skin was smooth, a warm brown that looked even more even in the light coming through the windows, like there wasn't a single flaw on it.
His hair was pulled into dreads, neat without looking forced, falling just enough to frame his face without getting in the way. It wasn't messy, but it also didn't look overly styled. Just… right. Like it suited him naturally.
And it wasn't just how he looked. It was the way he carried himself in it. Vincent didn't slouch or fidget or shift around like everyone else did when they thought no one was looking. He moved like he was aware of himself all the time, like nothing he did was accidental.
Even when he wasn't doing anything, there was this sense that he could move at any second and it would matter.
Max caught herself staring and looked away too quickly, her grip tightening on her bag. It wasn't just that he looked good—that would've been easier to ignore. It was the way everything about him felt intentional, like he already knew exactly what he was doing and understood himself while she was still trying to figure things out.
And for some reason, that made it really hard not to look back.
"…Thanks," she says again, more certain now. "For stepping in."
He shrugs. "It worked out."
"…Yeah."
She hesitates, knowing she should leave, knowing she has somewhere to be, but not moving right away.
"…Do you ever get the feeling," she starts slowly, "that things are happening around you and you're just… trying to keep up?"
He looks at her.
"Yeah," he says.
Max nods slightly, like something settled into place.
"…Okay," she says quietly.
She takes a step back. "I should probably go."
"Probably."
She hesitates again, just for a second.
"I'll see you around?" she asks, and it comes out more like a question than she intended.
He nods once. "Yeah."
She turns and walks back toward the building, heading inside before she can second-guess herself.
She doesn't look back, but she doesn't need to, because now she's thinking about him.
Not just what he said, or what he did, but the way he stood there like nothing could shake him. Like he already understood something she was still trying to figure out.
And somewhere in the back of her mind, quiet and uncertain but still there—
Max realizes she wants to talk to him again.
Not because she has to, nor because she needs help. Just because she does.
And it has nothing to do with the butterflies she felt fill her stomach as she walked away.
- Vincent -
He doesn't matter in any way that I could ever care about.
That's the part that almost makes it funny.
Out of everyone in Arcadia Bay, out of every moving piece in this little story, Luke Parker was barely even a footnote. A name attached to the Vortex Club. A face that showed up in the background of parties, hallways, conversations that didn't really go anywhere. The kind of person people recognize without ever actually knowing.
Which is exactly why he works.
People like him don't think they're being watched. They don't think they're important enough to be chosen. And today, more importantly, it makes them available.
I had already stepped in once, already placed myself exactly where I needed to be when Kate Marsh was getting cornered in the hallway by Victoria Chase and her little entourage. That situation didn't require anything complicated. Just presence, timing, and a few carefully chosen words to shift the dynamic enough for it to collapse in on itself.
Max saw it, and that's what matters. In all honesty, just about everything else is secondary.
But that doesn't mean that the day ends there. There's so much more fun to have among the mortals in this school.
- Later -
By the time classes wind down and people start drifting into their usual routines, the energy around campus shifts. People loosen up. They get louder, less careful, more willing to do things they wouldn't try earlier in the day. All because they think that the tension from earlier is gone, but they're wrong.
I find my target in the exact situation that I expected.
He's sitting with a couple of other Vortex Club members outside, half-paying attention to whatever they're talking about, but his focus keeps slipping. His eyes track movement more than conversation. He's distracted, even if he doesn't fully realize it.
I don't interrupt. I don't acknowledge him. I just exist within his range long enough to be noticed, then leave before anything can settle into something solid.
It doesn't take long for him to follow.
He catches up near the edge of campus, closer to the path that leads toward the parking lot and the tree line. It's quieter there. Fewer people. Less noise to get in the way.
"Hey," he calls out, a little unsure, like he's not fully convinced this is a good idea.
I stop and turn around, just enough to acknowledge him.
"…you're the one from earlier, right?" he asks. "In the hallway."
"That depends," I reply. "What did you see?"
He hesitates, then shrugs slightly.
"You just… shut them down," he says. "Victoria and them. They were all over Kate, and then you said something and it just… stopped."
"Did it?"
He frowns a little, like he's trying to figure out if I'm messing with him.
"Yeah," he says. "I mean, it did."
"Then that's all that matters."
That answer doesn't satisfy him, but that's good. In fact, It only seems to pull him in further.
"I've seen you around," he continues. "You don't really talk to anyone, but somehow everyone still… I don't know. Notices you."
"That's because I don't waste my time talking when I don't need to."
He lets out a short breath, not quite a laugh.
"…right," he says, like he's trying to keep up.
I let a small pause settle between us before shifting the conversation.
"You saw what happened in the hallway," I say. "What did you think?"
He shrugs again, but there's more weight behind it this time.
"I don't know," he admits. "I mean, stuff like that happens all the time. People mess with Kate. No one really… steps in."
"Just like you didn't."
He stiffens slightly.
"I mean—I wasn't really part of it," he says. "I was just there."
"Exactly."
"That doesn't make it my responsibility," he pushes back.
"No," I agree. "It just defines you."
That shuts him up, and before he can try, I shift again.
"You ever feel like you're just… waiting?" I ask.
"For what?"
"For something to happen. Something that actually matters."
He looks at me more carefully now.
"…yeah," he says after a second. "I guess."
"Most people feel that," I reply. "They just don't do anything about it."
"And you do?"
I don't answer, instead, I let a small amount of heat build in my hand again. Subtle. Controlled. Just enough to distort the air slightly.
He notices immediately.
"…What's happening?" he asks, quieter now.
"The temperature," he continues. "It just—changed."
I glance at my hand briefly, then back at him.
"…still figuring that out," I say.
That's all it takes for curiosity to replace hesitation again.
"What is that?" he asks.
"Something different."
"That's not really an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting right now."
He exhales slowly, but he doesn't push further.
We don't stay there long, because something else is already happening. It's not far from the parking lot. Behind one of the side buildings, where people go when they don't want to be seen but still want to stay close enough to the school to feel safe.
A girl is there. Not important, and definitely not someone people would notice if she disappeared from the background for a while. She's just another student. And right now, she's cornered.
Two guys. Same type as you'd expect. Loud, careless, and already pushing past the point where this can be brushed off as nothing.
Luke sees it.
And he hesitates.
Of course he does. Without my intervention, all he amounts to is an obscure background character that does nothing but bitch and moan.
I don't step in, not yet. Instead, I speak quiet enough that only he hears it.
"You're doing it again," I say.
He stiffens.
"…what?" he asks under his breath.
"Standing there," I continue. "Watching. Waiting for someone else to decide how this ends."
"That's not—" he starts.
"It is," I cut in. "You already know what's happening. So the only thing left to decide is whether you're part of it or not."
His jaw tightens.
"That's not my problem," he says, but there's less certainty in it now.
"It becomes your problem the second you notice it," I reply.
He looks back toward them, and then back toward me.
"You said earlier people get defined by what they do," he says.
"I did."
"And this is one of those moments."
"Yes."
There's a pause. Long enough for him to back and walk away, but he doesn't. Instead, he moves.
I can't say that it's even remotely impressive, but it's real. He steps in and grips the shirt of one of the guys. He then pulls him back, but he did so harder than he expected. The guy stumbles, turns, and immediately gets aggressive. The second one follows, and now the attention shifts.
Insults and threats get thrown around haphazardly, but Luke doesn't back down. One of them swings, and he takes it, barely, but he stays upright. He swings back, and it connects just enough to make space.
Things began escalating fast, and that's when I step in.
I push a small burst of heat into the ground between them. Focused. Sharp.
The pavement scorches just enough to make them all jump back.
"What the hell—?" one of them starts.
"Leave," I say.
They do.
People don't question things they don't understand when it feels dangerous enough.
But that just leaves the three of us.
The girl doesn't say anything, she doesn't thank him, she doesn't even really look at him.
She just leaves, shaken, but fine.
Luke stays where he is, breathing heavier now, adrenaline still running through him.
"…that was you," he says, looking at me. "The heat."
"Yes."
"What is that?" he asks again.
"Something you're not ready to understand yet."
This time, he doesn't push it. Instead, he nods slowly, like he's accepting that answer for now.
"I didn't just stand there," he says after a moment.
"No," I reply. "You didn't."
"And that means something, right?"
"It means you made a choice," I say. "Most people don't."
He exhales, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.
"…so what now?" he asks.
"Now you don't stop," I tell him. "You don't let this be a one-time thing that you forget about tomorrow. You build on it."
"And how do I do that?"
"By paying attention. By listening."
He hesitates slightly.
"…to who?"
"To me."
I could almost hear the gears turning in his head.
"…okay," he says.
There was no resistance, no second guessing, just acceptance.
The system responds immediately.
[Cultist Progression Detected]
[First Follower Established]
[Cult Members: 1]
[Luke Parker — Initiate]
[Faith Level: Nascent]
[Effect: Minor Stat Amplification (Leader)]
[Effect: Minor Suggestibility Increase (Follower)]
-Overall Cult Faith: Shaky (Almost Nonexistent)-
-Possible Members: 1-
-?-
-?-
-?-
[Honeyed Words] — Skilled → Expert
I can both see and feel the changes, but Luke doesn't. He just looks at me like he's waiting for direction.
"Go home," I tell him. "Think about what happened. Not just what you did, but why you did it."
He nods.
"Yeah. Okay."
"And Luke?"
He pauses.
"…yeah?"
"This wasn't random."
He studies me for a second, then nods again.
"…I figured."
Of course you did.
He leaves, but I stay where I am for a bit longer, letting the moment settle.
Max is still the priority in the long term, and she always will be for what comes next.
But this? This is something that may follow me far longer than even Max.
And for the first time since I got here—
This world doesn't feel quite as boring.