[Specialised Knowledges commencing... Completed]
...
Tyler woke slowly, pulled from the depths of unconsciousness by the sensation of fingers brushing gently across his forehead and a familiar voice murmuring his name with quiet concern.
His eyelids felt like lead. His limbs, like sandbags soaked in concrete. Yet beneath that heaviness—beneath the strange weight pressing down on his body—was an undercurrent of energy, thrumming low and steady like a power line buried deep beneath the earth.
When his eyes finally cracked open, the world came to him in fragments. Light filtered through the study's high windows in golden slivers, casting faint warmth across the couch he'd collapsed onto.
The ceiling above him swam in and out of focus, and then, gradually, a face came into view.
It was his mother's.
Helena Reyes was crouched beside him, her soft features etched with worry. She was brushing her fingers against his forehead, likely checking for a fever.
Her brows were furrowed in a way he hadn't seen in months, lips drawn tight at the corners with fear she hadn't voiced.
She breathed a sigh of relief as her palm lingered against his skin and found no heat.
"You're not burning up," she said softly, more to herself than to him. Then her eyes flicked to his, and her expression softened with visible relief.
"Tyler…" A warm, tear-touched smile spread across her face.
"Thank Goodness."
Without saying more, she eased herself down beside him, lifting his head and resting it gently on her lap. Her fingers returned to his hair, stroking it softly, rhythmically. It was the same way she'd comforted him as a child whenever he'd been sick.
Tyler blinked at her, his mind still tangled in the haze of the night before. His body felt… wrong. Not broken or damaged—but out of sync with itself. As though his nerves were still recalibrating after being rewired.
His thoughts felt razor sharp—he felt like he could recall every byte of information from the specialized knowledge branches he had absorbed—but his senses hadn't caught up.
His vision shifted between clarity and blur, his hearing registered too much and too little at once, and his sense of touch pulsed with exaggerated sensitivity.
It was disorienting.
Everything was both too much and not enough. Like being half-awake in a dream too vivid to be real, but too grounded to be illusion.
The actual word would be lucid dream.
It reminded him of that song from that artist.
He tried to sit up, groaning slightly as he pushed against the cushions.
Helena immediately laid a hand on his chest, gently pressing him back down.
"Don't, baby. Just rest. You still need to rest more."
Tyler met her eyes. There was a warmth in them that made something ache in his chest. He hated worrying her.
"I'm okay," he said, voice scratchy and low. "Really. I'm sorry I made you worry."
Helena gave a small, half-exasperated sigh, shaking her head. "You always say that."
She leaned down and, to his complete surprise, pulled him into her arms, cradling his head against her chest.
Tyler stiffened in alarm.
"Mom—" he began, awkwardly trying to pull away, but she gently hushed him with a soft coo and held him tighter.
"Just stay like this a little longer," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Please."
He froze in a mix of shock and embarrassment.
The last time he remembered her holding him like this was before… before everything. Before the hospital stays, before the debt, before the death that tore her away in his last life.
Her embrace felt like warmth made real. Her hand stroking his hair, her heartbeat steady against his ear, the faint scent of rosewater and laundry detergent—all of it wrapped around him like armor against the world.
For a moment, Tyler let himself melt into it.
Just a moment. He deserves it.
"I'm sorry," Helena said, her voice trembling slightly. "I should've noticed how much you've been pushing yourself. I thought… I thought you were just being ambitious. That you wanted to help. I didn't realize it was this bad."
She exhaled shakily.
"You don't have to do this, you know. Not like this. We're okay now. Financially. We're not starving. You don't have to sacrifice yourself, Tyler. I just want you to rest. Take it easy. Be a kid for once."
Tyler didn't answer right away. He smiled, letting the words wash over him—but inside, he sighed.
If only it were that easy.
He couldn't tell her the truth. He couldn't tell her that time wasn't on their side. That he wasn't just building an empire for ambition's sake—but because every second counted. Because if he slowed down, if he got too comfortable, the future he feared would arrive too soon.
He couldn't lose her again.
So he wrapped his arms around her gently and whispered, "Okay, Mom. I'll take it slow."
Helena smiled down at him, kissing his forehead.
"You always say that," she murmured, echoing her earlier words. "And I always pretend to believe you."
This wasn't the first time that she had said something like that to him and he had given her the same response.
She knew that she can't stop Tyler but she really just want her baby boy to live life like other kids his age.
She wanted him to socialise and explore things. Get a girlfriend maybe. But she knew that that was impossible with how Tyler was always busy and locking himself up in the study.
She smiled, caressed his hair and kissed his forehead, and released him after a few more heartbeats and helped him sit up.
"Now come down for breakfast. Devin's waiting for you. He insisted on waiting before going to school."
Tyler chuckled softly. "Yes, mom"
Helena stood and began walking toward the door, glancing over her shoulder.
"Hurry. Before the food gets cold."
He nodded, watching her disappear down the hallway.
For a few moments after she left, Tyler sat there in silence. The aftermath of the knowledge absorption still buzzed faintly through his skull like a residual current.
He could feel it now. The change. The difference.
His brain wasn't just faster. It was like it had been restructured differently, as entire swathes of data were now embedded directly into his cognitive framework.
Complex multi-threading theories, quantum routing logic, matrix compression techniques—they floated just beneath the surface of his awareness like sharp-edged tools waiting to be used.
But that could wait. Right now, his little brother was waiting.
No matter how important those things are, giving his family his attention comes first.
He rose to his feet, slower this time, steadier. He stretched briefly, testing his limbs. The pain was gone.
The twitching had stopped. Only fatigue remained, lingering at the edge of his muscles like mist after rain.
He exited the study, turned down the hallway, and made his way to his room. There, he splashed water on his face, brushed his teeth, changed into fresh clothes, and did his best to look like he hadn't just suffered a full-blown system-induced meltdown hours earlier.
He would take his bath later but now, he had to see Devin off first.
By the time he descended the stairs, Devin had already spotted him.
"Ty!" the boy shouted from across the living room, mouth still half-full of toast. "Good morning, big brother"
Tyler laughed and ruffled his brother's hair as he walked past, heading to the kitchen.
Helena had already set his plate out—eggs, toast, beans, and fried plantains. He thanked her with a smile and sat down to eat.
As he ate, he chatted with Devin and his mom while they all enjoyed their breakfast.
It wasn't long before they were done. Devin grabbed his bag, and the three of them left the house together.
Tyler walked them to the car, opened the door for his brother, and waved him off as Helena drove Devin to school.
As the car disappeared down the street, Tyler stood in the driveway, the morning sun warming his skin.
With that settled, it was time to dive into the Specialised Knowledges.