Omen of a Bluebell

Bella sighs dramatically, and the bearkin spares me a glance from his bowed position.

“He tried to pull your Status from the System,” she says, and my eyes widen into saucers, horrified. Before I can start to worry about the implications of that, though, she continues. “Not only is it rude for those with such Skills to do it in the first place, it’s outright forbidden within The Secret Consortium.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but she waves an elegant hand at him dismissively.

“Yes, I'm aware we weren’t technically inside at the time. It’s still a grave offense, especially from one under their banner," she says, glaring balefully at him.

Then she looks back to me, her gaze softening.

"Now he’s trying to apologize for being a greedy fool.”

I frown at her blatant show of superiority, half expecting the bearkin to object or worse. He’s certainly powerful enough, if my senses are right.

And as finicky as Sense Danger is, I trust it. Sometimes I’m not close enough to whatever it is that’s dangerous, or it’s only dangerous at the very last second… but it’s still never been wrong.

Instead of getting angry, though, the bearkin maintains his perfect bow and waits for my response.

So people can just… get my status. Fantastic.

Then a thought hits me. He said no information was gained.

I pull up my System Waker Title once more.

System Waker

You updated the System, allowing it to awaken to its full potential.

Bonuses:

Your identity will be concealed in all System Notices that would otherwise reveal it, unless you wish otherwise.

Grants an additional unique class slot.

It conceals my identity from System Notices, but does it also conceal it from Skills that pull from the System itself?

Wait, if it pulls from the System somehow... does that make it a System Notice?

I... have absolutely no idea.

No matter how I look at it, I can’t come to a reliable conclusion. But the odds aren't terrible, if this experience is anything to go by.

I just have to hope that's how it works. In the meantime…

“Uh… so what’s a ‘Glimmer’? Or an ‘Omen’, for that matter,” I ask.

The bearkin straightens slowly, though he keeps his head bowed as he answers.

“Our establishment deals in measures of truth,” he begins, voice smooth.

“A Sliver. The faintest thread. A whisper, a rumor, a clue half-glimpsed in the dark. A lead.”

His head tilts up until his gaze meets mine, and I find a fang-filled grin splitting his features. “A Glimmer. A spark that catches. Context. Direction. Truth you can act upon.”

His tone deepens. “A Revelation. Truth laid bare, bright and dark in equal measure. It will change how you see the world… whether you wish it to or not.”

Then his grin fades, and the air seems to still. When he speaks again, his voice is heavy and ominous, and I feel the weight of it pressing me into the chair.

“And an Omen. A truth that should remain unheard. A secret so absolute it rewrites what is known. Two of equal value are required to earn one in trade. The currency of nobles, kings, and those who play games upon the world’s great stage.”

Bella rolls her eyes, but the stiffness of her arms as she sips her tea tells me she takes his words to heart. She catches me looking.

She huffs. "While dramatic, he is quite serious."

“O-oh,” I say, thoroughly cowed.

Thankfully, the bearkins presence all but vanishes then, and he bows his head to me once more.

“Will you accept the Glimmer as recompense for my rudeness?” he asks.

I glance at Bella, and she nods. “Uh… sure?”

He straightens again, offering his hand to me. I quirk a brow, but take it, and he pulls me up to guide me to… a chair at the table right beside the one I was just sitting at.

Bella ignores my confused look, instead opting to enjoy her tea and pretend the world around her simply doesn’t exist. I turn it on the bearkin, and he smiles.

“The Glimmer is for you and you alone. Every table is equipped with potent privacy enchantments. One to block sound, one to block sight, one to block mana, and one to block scrying,” he says, and reaches under the table.

I can both feel and see when the enchantments activate. A thin bubble of mana expands from the table, encircling us, and the entire lobby turns into a warped blur. If I thought the lobby was quiet before, now it’s akin to a tomb.

The only sound left is our breathing, and the slow, heavy thud of my heartbeat.

The silence is shattered when the bearkin asks, “What is it you would like to know?”

His voice is back to its low, deathly seriousness from earlier, as if no matter the question, he’ll take it to the depths of his soul. Still, I have no idea what to say in response.

Several things that I want to know come to mind, and all of them are important to me.

Should I ask about Kiri and Bluebell? The divine curse that some ominous Error tagged entity tried to saddle me with?

Would either of those be considered a Glimmer?

I decide to give it a try anyways.

“Can you tell me who Kiri, the Sixth, is or where I can find her?” I ask.

The bearkins eyes sparkle with interest at the question, but he shakes his head. “This is worth more than a Glimmer.”

“Then…” I start, then hesitate.

If I mention the divine curse, it might give away more information than I intend to, but… I have to start somewhere.

“Just before a World Notice that made the destruction of dungeons punishable, my party destroyed a dungeon. After that, something with an ‘Error’ tag tried to lay a divine curse on me, and I assume it’s because I personally destroyed the core. Do you know who or what it was that tried to curse me?”

He frowns then. “As you do not know the intricacies of The Secret Consortium, I will be upfront. Merely by asking your question, you have offered a Glimmer of your own. I will pay you appropriately for the information, but I must ask that you choose your words more carefully.”

I look away and scratch behind an ear sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry. This is… her kind of thing,” I say, gesturing towards the warped, blurry vision of Bella.

“It is no fault of your own. Regardless, what you have asked still goes beyond what I may offer in a Glimmer,” he responds.

I sigh at that.

If not those, then… I guess I can reduce the scale of things. Maybe…

“The Etheron Empire attacked my home and killed my family. Why?” I can’t hold back the rage or hurt in my tone as I ask it.

His gaze softens almost imperceptibly, and finally, he answers. “I request a Sliver, that I might answer more accurately. What is your name?”

I pause at that, and my gaze flicks to the notice still waiting in the corner of my mind.

Notice

Would you like to update your name to include your clan?

Yes / No

I wince. I still wasn’t decided on whether or not to accept it. For whatever reason, I felt like there is a weight to the name being offered.

Then, whether because some time had passed, or I am simply in a different mindset now, a single, clarifying thought crashes through my concerns.

Mom isn’t just Laralia. She’s Laralia Ken.

The name holds with it a piece of home, bringing forth the memories I’d forsaken until the Bluebell’s Recompense dungeon brought them back out.

Warm hands, and warmer fur. White hair that smells of flowers, and soft ear scratches in all the right places. A gentle voice, filled with so much love that it hurts to even recall it.

And I want more than just a memory to remember her by.

It’s so simple that I feel like a complete moron, despite the decision settling in my heart.

Notice

Your name has been updated.

The Grand Matriarch of your clan has been notified.

I don’t know how to feel about that second part, but I’m happy with the change regardless of the consequences. I take a quick peek at the first portion of my Status, just wanting to see it. To feel the change, and feel just a bit closer to Mom.

Status

Name: Emilia Ken

It brings a grin to my face, and only then do I notice the huge bearkin still waiting patiently across from me. I school my face with the grace of a drunkard, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“My name…” I start, and despite my efforts, a smile creases my lips once more, “…is Emilia Ken.”

The bearkin nods, his face solemn. “Thank you. I will pay for the Sliver and Glimmer once our business is concluded.”

He pauses then, a thoughtful expression coming over his face as he leans back in his chair. His fingers tap against the armrest in a steady rhythm while he watches me, thinking. Then he leans forward, bringing himself closer to me as he rests his elbows on his knees.

“The Etheron Empire seeks powerful magical items and individuals for a greater purpose,” he begins, his voice low, each word deliberate. “Yet the peoples of the Empire are told another story. They believe your clan harbored a corruption. A blight of forbidden magics that would one day consume the lands around it. To them, the Ken clan were not a people, but a threat.”

My rage intensifies at that, but I listen intently, unwilling to miss a single detail.

He sits up, folding his hands before him. “Emsala Ken, your Grand Matriarch, was said to be the heart of that corruption. ‘A witch who draws upon ancient pacts to destroy all we hold dear’ they claimed. The armies that marched on your home did so believing they were purging the world of a rising darkness. And they erased every other clan in their path.”

I knew there were other clans, but it never crossed my mind to take a moment to mourn their loss, as I do for my own.

But him speaking of them immediately makes me regret that.

I instantly know that I must find a way to honor their passing. For myself... and for all the Emilia's that never escaped their villages.

His gaze flicks up to meet mine, softening slightly as he seems to recognize and understand what just happened in my mind.

He doesn't acknowledge it, though.

“But that is not the truth the Empire hides behind closed doors. The Grand Matriarch was not hunted for the sins they claimed. She was sought for what she carried. Something powerful enough that the Empire still bleeds for its loss.”

He nods then, indicating that he is done speaking. The weight of his words lingers in the air around me, and my face spasms as I struggle to find the right emotion to express, until I settle on pure, unadulterated fury.

Punish.

I can feel Fae Ferocity frothing in back of my mind, wanting to unleash itself, to ride my emotions… but there is nothing here that demands it.

But I need something. Some outlet. Some direction.

I need somewhere to aim my wrath. Or rather, someone.

And I'll do anything to get it.

I ask a new question through clenched teeth. “Who did it? Who is responsible for the death of my family? The genocide of my people?”

A strong word, but I can think of nothing more fitting. It’s an even broader question, as well, but I have no doubt that he would have some kind of answer.

Or at the very least a direction to steer me to find one myself.

“You ask for an Omen—”

“I don’t give a fuck,” I snarl, unable to stop myself.

I can't think straight. My hands grip the arms of my chair so tightly that I can't even feel my fingers anymore, and my entire body twitches with barely restrained urgency to do... anything.

But I do restrain myself. I know that I have to get answers here, or nothing will ever be right again.

I have a lead. I have a hint of the truth.

Now... I need more.

And that need overwrites everything.

“What was it you said?" I ask through a growl. "Two of equal value? So I just need to give you two bigass secrets, right?"

He eyes me warily, but nods.

"Then first, tell me if you know the answer to my question. If you do, I'll give you your precious fucking secrets.”

He watches me for just a moment, as if looking to see if I’m serious. Then he nods.

“Fine,” I snap. “First, it’s possible to have three Classes.”

He quirks a brow at me, clearly doubtful. Until I send him a shared status of my Classes.

Just my Classes.

Lost to the urge to know more as I might be, I have enough sense to not overplay my hand.

Yet.

His eyes widen as he reviews the information, but when his gaze returns to me he nods again.

“That is one Omen.”

With the first secured, I know of only one other thing that would definitely count as an Omen. The System itself made damn sure of it.

I know, deep down, that this is a secret I can only sell once. That its value is likely more than the single Omen he would give me for it.

To spend it here would be irreversible.

But it's also the only thing standing between me and the knowledge I require to have a chance at revenge.

To get justice for my family and all of my kin who were wronged so many years ago.

To punish those responsible.

So I spend it.

Instead of speaking, I shift my tag to display the System Waker Title and point above my head.

The moment his gaze lifts, I see the exact instant recognition hits him.

His pupils narrow to pinpricks, then flare wide. The air around him thickens with mana, instinctive, defensive as it roils furiously around him. Then it stills all at once as he forces it back under control.

His breathing sharpens, each inhale measured and audibly deliberate. The chair creaks once beneath his weight, claws biting faintly into the armrests before he pries them free, slow and careful.

The mana he released is so dense that I know I couldn’t control so much as a wisp of it if I tried, even while fully enhanced.

Gods, what Tier even is he?

For a moment, my anger at what was done to my people is smothered by a respectful caution.

Then it returns, my desperate need to know overwriting any sense of self preservation.

The tension hangs between us as he calms himself, step by deliberate step, until the worst of it passes.

He handled it better than Cari, at least.

He straightens, still as stone, but the hair along the backs of his hands remains bristled, betraying the effort it took to wrangle his frayed composure.

When his eyes finally return to mine, they’re steady again, but there’s a tremor of awe—and something like reverence—beneath the surface. It reminds me of how Agora used to look at me when she spoke of my scars.

He exhales slowly, the breath coming out as a low, rumbling growl that smooths into words. “That… will suffice as your second Omen.”

My heart lurches. Not with relief, but with a raw, predatory thrill.

I lean forward, a feral grin sharper than any dagger splitting my face.

“Tell me everything.”

Names. Faces. Locations. Classes, Skills, Races, Titles... even family connections.

I’ll take whatever he gives me and use it to erase them from the world forever.

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