Marvel: Emotion Farming System

Unfortunately, I have some bad news for y’all.

No, this isn’t some hiatus or drop notice, so chill out.

Sadly, we weren’t able to cross 10k.

But the powerstones...

They were over 9000!

If that happens again this week, I’ll upload an extra Chapter just for reaching that.

Now, for the actual bad news, for you guys. This will be the last week where you’ll get 10+ Chapters a week. I am actually surprised I was able to keep up with the demand so far.

The weekly upload will be like 4-5 Chapters.

I might still give bonus Chapters, but they will be like 2.5-3k stones cause I love seeing y’all struggle.

For this week though, it’ll be 1600 stones/Chapter.

Why 1600, you ask? Cause that’s what you guys have been averaging daily for the last week.

If you keep it up, you’ll have another 11 Chapter this week.

So, yeah, get cracking.

***

"It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything."

Didn’t Norman lose everything? No, he still had something.

His eyes scanned the room he was in. The wall beyond which his son slept. The fortune that could still allow him a comfortable life. Norman still hadn’t lost everything.

And one didn’t need to lose everything. They could still rebuild even before they hit rock bottom. But there was something that always kept people from rebuilding themselves.

"Why are you hiding? Does it scare you how your son will react? About what he would think?" He spoke to himself in the mirror, observing the scars on his body.

Norman felt alive in those fights; he had started one himself today. The pain pulled him out of the limbo and placed his feet on the ground. It gave him a clear purpose to fight through.

But where would he reach after fighting through that? What was his end goal?

He read the next Chapter after another bar fight; this time someone smashed a bottle on his face, and he did the same to them.

"S-Sir, are you sure about this?" Cindy’s hands trembled as she held the needle. "Should I call a doctor? I don’t think I can do this."

"No need for that, Cindy. Just take a real deep breath and go for it." He didn’t look away from the computer screen. Her whimpering was of little importance. "We all learn from somewhere."

Cindy, with her shaky hands, didn’t give him the best stitches. But it was never about that to begin with.

In Chapter 7th, Bob returned and joined Fight Club. The fight club was like a gift to him and many, helping them regain their masculinity.

In a world where one was promised success through jobs and degrees, not many were able to reach that golden success with the job alone. Because it was a trap to get fresh blood into the system, a system designed to drain one of their life and identity.

Norman had succeeded in his pursuit of power and wealth that this society peddled. He didn’t care for the work hours or neglecting his son; he had to return to work one hour after his wife’s funeral. Because that was what he needed to do to step over others who stopped to mourn.

But where did that lead him to?

If achieving the society’s set goal doesn’t make him full, then what would?

"You already have the answer to that."

Norman kept looking at his fists; his fingers hurt, and his arms were sore. But that massive hole in his chest wasn’t growing anymore.

On the screen, Tyler had turned into a Legend, the undisputed leader. And if history had taught him anything about charismatic leaders with a fanatic following, it always ended in bombing.

The homework assignments rolled in. From starting a fight to vandalism to domestic terrorism, it kept escalating. Leading to something big. It made him think of the start: the gun in the narrator’s mouth and the bomb about to explode.

Will Tyler feel content if he destroys everything?

But if there was nothing left after the change, what good was the change?

Norman couldn’t sleep that night. He kept rereading, theorizing, mapping, and even tried to entertain the idea of destroying everything.

However, he couldn’t see the merit in it.

He was at an impasse, once again twisting through a sleepless night.

The next morning, he finally stopped circling his son. He sat in front of the shocked Harry, the wound on his forehead and cheek dressed properly.

"W-What happened, Dad?" His son stood up and ran around the table to reach him. Shaken to the core, his eyes were looking for a logical reason.

"Just a bar fight." The only problem was that there wasn’t one.

Harry stopped for a second to make sure he had heard that right. His father got into a bar fight?

Someone who shouted at him for even going near a bar? That man not only entered a bar; he fought someone there?

That’s when Norman resumed, his voice bearing the usual calm.

"What do you want to do in life, Harry?"

"...Well," Harry shrank back under his gaze, trying to move on from the previous question. He had heard that question, but the answer was already chosen for him.

"Tell me truthfully..." Norman added. "If you lie, I will know."

"...Curing fatal illnesses." Harry finally said it at last.

Fatal illness, it was a fatal illness that took away his mother. So, it made sense that he wanted to do that. The only problem was that Harry was studying chemistry and electrical engineering, following in Norman’s path to the top.

"Change majors by next week." He said after taking a bite of his omelette.

"What?" Harry blinked.

"Change your major to what you want to do by next week; use my name if you have to." Norman looked him in the eye with a smirk. "If you don’t, I will write you out of my will."

"O-Oh, ok." Although shocked and scared at the sudden change, his son nodded with a bright smile.

It was like he watched a man who had lived his whole life bound by shackles, finally shake them off.

Soon after that, the subject moved on as breakfast passed and Harry left. Happiest he had been in a while.

Norman sat on the sofa in the living room. It wasn’t even that comfortable, and the table was a bit too high to place his legs. What was the point of them if they couldn’t do their basic function?

In the end, he lit up a cigarette and took a long drag.

Shackles, if being forced into a major he didn’t like was Harry’s chains. What bound Norman?

"What would you do after accomplishing your goal, Harry?"

"What should one do after they had accomplished it?"

He wasn’t sure. Norman wasn’t even sure what his real goal was.

"Was it really wealth and power? Or getting beaten up every day changed something?"

What was he supposed to do now? He had already achieved what he thought was his goal, even if he was thrown out in the end. Buying things and making more money didn’t matter.

So, what mattered?

"Sir, are you ok? You haven’t spoken since morning." Cindy’s voice brought him out of the reverie.

Norman looked at the time; it was already 6 in the evening, and his phone kept ringing. But he hadn’t moved a single muscle.

’If I wasn’t talking, then who was?’ Norman splashed cold water on his face after a shower.

He kept thinking over it as beads of cold water dripped from his face, landing in the sink. The ripples hid his reflection. But for a moment, he clearly saw it. There was someone in the water.

"You already know, don’t you?"

The voice became clear as the water’s surface calmed down.

Norman tried to step back, but he saw the same face on the vast mirror above the sink.

This was the mirror that had faithfully reflected his face every day for years. But today, the face in the mirror had a wide grin while his own eyes were wide with shock.

"You finally noticed, Norman." The smile in the mirror began to twist inhumanely, and the voice continued like a devil’s whisper. "I am incredibly happy."

...

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