I left the tent once Nathan was asleep. It was the early hours of the morning, pre-dawn, and as soon as I stepped out of the tent and zipped it up behind me, I knew that the world as I knew it was forever changed.

  Driven by my new purpose, I turned away from the tent and bounded over the nearby metal fence and onto the other side. When I landed, I broke into a full-tilt sprint.

  Although Slip was still nowhere to be observed within my own mind, I felt as if I were combined with Slip anyway. My mental focus had undergone a seismic shift, like when I would combine my psyche with Slip’s for us both to fight with a combined, zero-hesitation prowess. Only this time, there was no Slip, just me. Just Burgess, but with a focus unlike anything I had experienced.

  I sprang up onto the Lowems Park rooftops and used the tiles and slopes as my means of traversing the landscape, in combination with the slippery soles of my resin-clad feet for the times it was better to surf than to run.

  This is it, I thought, No going back.

  It was on that particular morning, after leaving the tent and racing across Lowems Park, that it could be said the Archetype Project had begun in earnest. Before, the Archetype Project had been a promising idea; like a company’s code of conduct that could be followed as vaguely as its employees wanted.

  But my decision to continue on the path of being a hero, instead of giving up the power like the choice Nathan had thrown down at my feet, had become a milestone in my psyche that had already had an avalanche effect on my every other action.

  It was like when the Fox-Frog-Monster had taken over my body the first and second time. In a way, I was experiencing a total loss of control over to another part of myself. And this part, given a name, was The Archetype Project. Yet the psychological barrier between The Archetype Project and me was nigh non-existent.

  It was during the superhuman sprinting, surfing, and bounding across Lowems Park in the early morning hours that I finally understood why Slip had vanished. Quite simply, there was no more room for Slip. I had outgrown him, or it, or whatever part of my psyche Slip had been there like a book under a rickety table leg to support.

  What remained was me. And I was both Burgess O’Bannon and The Archetype Project with no distinction.

  One reason I was able to discern so much about my own inner psyche was that my mind had begun running at an accelerated speed by default. The world still seemed the same, moving at the speed it always did. But a different, higher part of my mind was ten steps ahead in processing the information, much in the same way Slip used to be the buffer for me to digest an immense amount of information that would have otherwise fried my brain and rendered me with a severe nosebleed.

  So whilst I superficially took in the frosty morning air, and the very beginnings of the egg-yolk dawn sunlight spilled over the Lowems Park rooftops, my mind was irrevocably focused only on the mission at hand.

  Pap! Pap!

  ?

  Zip!

  I had regrown my resin-thread suit over myself and had returned to zipping and sailing at high speed across the Lowems Park landscape. I had realised there was no need for the resin board, as the soles of my feet were useful enough as a means to surf along. I moved through Lowems Park forest’s trees and main path at a hurtling speed, keeping vigilant for any civilians that might be happening by on a morning stroll or jog.

  My power-enhanced thoughts were constantly calculating the perfect means of zipping and hurtling through the air. In place of a resin-staff, I instead used two small baton-like lengths of hard-resin, both of which were renewed at both ends each time a new resin-thread line was needed.

  I had never been one for maths, but there was a new portion of my psyche devoted to perfecting my movements in a constant motive for optimal movement.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  My heightened sense of smell had informed me that neither Clang, Snap, nor Marbelle had departed from Bramble and Emulsion-Man’s hideout. I soared down from the tree canopy and landed silently before the closed hideout opening.

  I bent down and tapped the hideout roof with my fist. A moment later, the covering was moved away, revealing the faces of Clang, Marbelle, and Snap, all of whom were looking up at me.

  I dropped down into the hideout, crouched, and Clang covered it back up again.

  “Slip?” said Snap, with concern in her tone.

  “Everything’s okay,” I said, speaking in my voice and not my usual resonation.

  “Is everything okay here?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” said Snap, “We were waiting for you to come back before we made our next move.”

  “Yeah,” said Clang, “Marbelle’s offered us to stay at her hideout.”

  “Where?” I said.

  “It’s on the fringe of Lowem’s Park, close to Ripperly,” said Marbelle, “It’s plenty secure.”

  My mind raced through the options and came to an answer in a fraction of a second.

  “No,” I said, “We’ll stay here for the time being.”

  “But there are amenities at my place,” said Marbelle.

  “There’s no time for that,” I said, “Sweet-Face will regroup with his men soon enough; we need to be ready.”

  Marbelle’s eyes narrowed. From her corner in the low-ceiling dirt hideout, she cocked her head to the side and hugged herself a little. She, out of everyone else, looked the most cramped in the confined space, no doubt, because she was seven feet of imposing marble.

  “Then what do you propose?” she said.

  I settled down to a cross-legged sitting position.

  “Training,” I said, “Here and now.”

  “What training?” said Clang.

  He was sitting cross-legged already, with his hands resting atop his knees.

  “The only training that’ll count, given how pressed for time we are,” I said, “I’m going to go into my mind and run combat training simulations.”

  “Wait,” said Snap.

  She was sitting on her side, her long dark hair framing the sides of her raccoon-ish, anime-styled, and greatly beautified face.

  “Training with our minds is dangerous,” she said, “Because any damage you take inside happens on the outside too.”

  “I know,” I said, “But there’s no other way if I’m going to get strong enough to face Sweet-Face again.”

  “There might be another way,” said Snap, urgently, “Other ways to train-”

  “-No,” I said, “Sweet-Face will regroup with his men and come for us. He’s smart, so he’s not going to rush into things. My Intuition’s telling me he’ll attack again within the next forty-eight hours.”

  “But the only reason Sweet-Face got the better of you both was because you took him on two-on-one,” said Snap, “If all four of us take him on, then he won’t stand a chance.”

  “There’s too many variables for us to take that chance,” I said, “Sweet-Face will weigh the odds in his favor one way or another. We have to plan for the worst possible circumstances.”

  “Yeah,” said Clang, “Slip’s right.”

  “If you’re resigned to intense training,” said Marbelle, “Then perhaps those of us who aren’t training should make vigilance our priority?”

  “What’s that mean?” said Clang.

  Marbelle pointed a shiny-white finger in my direction.

  “How long do you intend to train until Sweet-Face returns?” said Marbelle.

  “Constantly,” I said.

  “Then that will require food, drink, and general care, will it not?” said Marbelle, “You’ll be in a vulnerable state; heavily wounded most of the time, no doubt. I should think you’ll need assistance in the real world while you’re occupied with the one inside your head.”

  I slowly nodded.

  “Then I’ll volunteer to provide the food, drink, care, and vigilance,” said Marbelle.

  “I will too,” said Snap, “We’ll take it in shifts.”

  Marbelle smirked and gestured to Snap with an agreeing nod.

  “We’ll liaise with Bramble and Emulsion-Man,” said Snap, “So they know what’s up.”

  “I’ll train with you,” said Clang, his attention fixed entirely on me.

  “I’ll train on my own for now,” I said, “Sharing a mindspace during combat simulations may cause unintended side effects. But you’re welcome to train by my side down here.”

  Clang gave a nod of understanding, his silver and gold eyes gleaming.

  I felt Snap’s hand atop mine then. She leaned closer, as if only I were intended to hear what she had to say next.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” she said, “What about going to Ripperly?”

  I met her gaze, my own eyes stoic and unflinching.

  “This is the priority,” I said.

  I then eased my hand away and closed my eyes.

  “I won’t be able to dedicate myself to training like this without your help,” I said.

  This wasn’t said just for Snap to hear, but for Clang and Marbelle too.

  “This is what The Archetype Project is,” I said, “Don’t compromise the mission; find a way forward; and if you can’t find the way, make it.”

  “Yes!” said Clang, excitedly.

  He settled into a cross-legged position beside me.

  I opened my eyes and fixed Snap with one last look.

  Her eyes were searching and frightened.

  “You trust me?” I said.

  She nodded.

  “Then I’m counting on you,” I said.

  “Okay,” said Snap.

  Her frightened look continued to waver for a moment before she found a form of resolve within herself.

  Then, finally, after looking away, facing directly ahead, and closing my eyes, I said, “See you when it’s over.”

  And with that, I closed my eyes, and willed the power to begin what I intended to be training within the Mindspace.