The small council filtered past them; each gave Eric a look of approval, or were visibly impressed, with a few even verbalizing their approval briefly. He tuned their words out. The guard next to Eric ensured he could remain standing on his own feet, and then, at Seraphine’s clearing of her throat, departed with his ally.
Seraphine and Eric were now the only two in that outer chamber.
She’s already sheltering me from the influences of the likes of the Steward and Admiral. Even the guard, with that brief, minor command, was just sent off to guard the other Summoned against their unwanted influences. Thank the Ley Lines that Seraphine is the Overseer and our handler. We need to keep far away from everyone on the small council except for her until we are ready to deal with them.
Seraphine’s regal demeanor slipped, and she acted more like a real person and less like a perfected mannequin as she said, “I’ve never heard of someone remaining conscious after exposure and having their mana channels opened.”
I can make a play here, Eric thought. I can go with the whole idea of being some type of prophet, or even try to be a messianic figurehead like Paul Atreides in Dune. Subtlety for now, but I need to set up the pieces at this crucial moment. I can always go full-on prophetic leader if needed at a future point. Better to start small and scale up later.
He spoke softly, almost wheezing, as his lungs finished recovering. “I want to do good. My life back where I was. . . I helped people. I saved lives.” He held his hand up once more, the Blackflame Sigil continuing to hover just above the skin. “I can use this to make a difference . . . somehow.”
She let out a laugh. In all of the five years he had interacted with her before fleeing Trok, he’d never heard her laugh. It was enchanting, in a way. “You will. I’ll make sure of it” she replied. “Let us go and see how the other Summoned are recovering.”
Eric spoke. “Did . . . there was a constellation over each person’s head. Did you see something like that for me?”
“It was fantastic as always, Reaper from the overall pattern, but unlike any I’ve seen before with its complexity.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, a small smile on her lips. “You made quite the impact. I would anticipate many of the small council visiting you in the next few weeks. But first, we have some other steps to take.”
“Like what? Demonstrating what we can do? Meeting those people who watched us?” Eric offered up. He wanted to give a hint of foresight without revealing that he knew the next part of the process the Summoned would be going through, which was a chance to show off in the training yard outside the citadel in front of the king, small council, and whatever upper nobility and high-end merchants could be scraped together on short notice.
That small smile widened even more. “You are either touched by fate or extremely smart.”
I’m not really smart. Naomi absolutely blows me out of the water in that department. My only advantages are that I know more about others than they do about me right now, and what is going to happen in the future.
Eric knew all of the major players in the Kingdom of Trok, and most in the Meritocracy of Bhlast. He had learned the majority of their secrets after the war, when he had begun to dig into the horrors that he had once been blind to. They were inevitably revealed as the king died and his son elevated all of the nefarious and downright evil actors in the great stage production that layered a gentle fa?ade upon the kingdom.
He nodded spoke softly, having fully recovered from the manacule exposure and cleared his lungs. “I tried to pay attention in school.”
I’ll keep the whole foresight and destined-prophet angle to myself, for now. Wait until the perfect moment to reveal it.
As they walked, Eric called up The Paths. “Index, summary,” he whispered. He wanted the full overview of his abilities.
-----
Rotes:
Blackflame Bolt - Launch a bolt of Blackflame that impacts a singular target, dealing minor damage. 500-foot range.
Ash Shroud - Manifest a shroud of ash that partially blurs your form, causing some attacks targeting you to miss. 10% miss chance.
-----
Rotes were limitless use abilities, powered by the user’s mana. Eric was quite pleased to see that he had an offensive one, and only slightly disappointed that his defensive one operated on a percentage miss-chance, rather than having a more reliable, consistent result.
-----
Skills:
Backblast 1 - Release a cone of concussive Blackflame, which knocks foes backward and deals minor damage. 25-foot expanding cone, 90° arc.
Cinderburst 1 - Launch a ball of Blackflame that detonates, dealing moderate damage to all struck. 50-foot radius explosion, 250-foot range.
Blackflame Beam 1 - Fire a beam of concentrated Blackflame that lances forth in a line. 1,000-foot range, pierces 1 target (or 1 foot of material).
Flashstep 1 - Emit a burst of Blackflame from your feet, dashing rapidly to a nearby location. 30-foot distance.
Sootshroud 1 - Manifest a cloud of ash that stays in a small area around you, obscuring vision and muffling sound. 10-foot radius centered on the user.
-----
Skills were limited use abilities, which required the user to expend one of their Sigils. As expected of a Reaper, his current setup was primarily damage oriented, but he was pleasantly surprised by the movement-oriented Flashstep, and the stealth-themed Shootshroud. Both of those would doubtless prove beneficial in a combat scenario.
-----
Traits:
Fire Resistance 1 - Reduces all Fire Damage suffered by 10%.
Blackflame Blaze 1 - Adds a burning, damage-over-time effect to all of the user's Skills and Rotes that inflict damage, dealing an additional 5% of the total direct damage over 10 seconds. If reapplied, all burn timers refresh.
Vital Heat 1 - When a target dies within 1 minute of being harmed by the user, the user restores 10% of their health.
-----
Traits were passive, constantly-active abilities. They often augmented the individual, or applied to Skills, Rotes, or even mundane actions such as everyday activities, or in the case of martial-inclined Classes, weapon strikes. Often, Traits are what a person would orient their Class around.
Eric immediately honed in on and identified what the most influential Trait was that could shape his build, and how he would walk his Path.
Holy shit. . . Blackflame Blaze is really powerful. I can just use damaging Rotes like Blackflame Bolt over and over to build up multiple instances of the burning damage? And the Index entry implies that it can’t be resisted like regular fire. That’s potent. And it says all of my Skills and Rotes. Does that mean if I used something else like Saint’s Smite—that Exarch damaging Skill I had in case of emergencies—it would apply the Blackflame burning DOT as well?
He knew that Vital Heat was incredibly useful as well, as killing something to restore ten percent of his health was quite valuable. However, he was also sure that there was the usual Paths-attunement requirement. He couldn’t have a bag of fish bait like worms in a hip pouch, and then torch it on the brink of death to fully heal himself up. The Paths accounted for keeping Classes in balance. He would need to test to determine the parameters of its healing capabilities.
Another thought went through his head.
That is a lot of Skills to start with, though the amount of Traits is the norm. Same with the Rotes.
Classes tended to have varying numbers of starting Skills. Two to three was the usual amount. But he had five. That was not unheard of, but extremely rare.
Starting over from scratch absolutely had its perks. He was in the perfect position to set himself up well compared to last time.
While he was processing the implications, Seraphine took him to the chamber where the other Summoned were. It was a huge, temporary infirmary. Dozens of beds were spaced in rows, and small channels of water filtered along a trough on the wall from a hidden spring to provide refreshment.
Eric knew it was where the ten-year-olds each season would be brought after their exposure to The Paths: as would those who were completing a mana dive to Upgrade their Class.
The guards were standing inside the doors while the other three Summoned recovered. A Healing Mage was standing next to the door, and her white robes swished gently as she walked over and tapped Eric’s shoulder. He saw the light-green starburst of her Sigil above her hand extinguish, and the flow of mana over him glowed green before settling into his form. Her face screwed up in confusion, and she glanced at Seraphine. “His body suffered little damage.”
“He was in there for five minutes,” Seraphine replied, her formal expression pasted on once more, but with an undercurrent of disbelief that barely eked through.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” the healer replied. “His body reacted very well. No degradation of the flesh or organs. Just a little bit of cancer which seems to be caused by some carcinogen. I would assume pre-Summon, given it is from a substance I haven’t ever seen in a person.” The Healing Mage nodded to Eric. “You’re made of sturdy stuff.” Her hands glowed white, Eric felt the heat from her palms surge into his body, centralize in his torso, and then he coughed twice.
A lump of black goop was expelled with the second cough, and the woman caught it in a gloved hand. Her glove seared white before she opened it, revealing a clean palm. “There we go. All better.”
The black globule going flying didn’t really shock him, as he had seen it before. Very few diseases across Elyndor were unable to be healed by magic.
That’s why I fucking loved being a Healing Mage. Burning cancer out of people and curing them of practically any malady? Paths below, I need to take that as my second Class.
He noticed something in his thoughts. ‘Paths below.’ He needed to make sure he didn’t slip up in his speech. That was an Elyndian phrase, the equivalent of ‘God damn it’. Using it in regular communication before he’d had a chance to learn the world’s customs would blow his cover. The same went for other phrases like ‘darkest depths’ or ‘Paths within’.
I have to guard my tongue, he thought.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Seraphine waved the healer toward the door and then she left. Seraphine put a hand on Eric’s shoulder. “I’ll come and fetch you all in about an hour. Recover well.” She departed, but the guards remained.
Naomi was sitting up in her bed, eyes closed in thought. Shannon stared down at her left hand. Peter groaned in bed, coughing weakly.
Eric went to sit next to Naomi.
As soon as his butt hit the bed, she opened her eyes. “I heard a bit of that . . . How long were we out?”
“Ten seconds while touching the rock. Same as the others.” Eric looked at the guards, then back to Naomi. Right in her ear, he whispered, “We need to talk when we know we won’t be overheard. It’s important.” Then, he pulled back and continued at his usual volume: “So, what Class did you get?”
She grinned and held her left hand up in front of him. The image of a weird, complex, mana-math formula appeared, peridot-green. “Profession for the category and Artisan for the type. It’s called Tinkerer.”
Going to stay an inventor, he mentally commented. Perfect. I’ll go into that mega dungeon, get you a ton of raw resources, and once it’s refined you can make me all types of gear to help me survive and go deeper. That’s the fastest way to hit milestones before the king’s death and things really go to shit. Then we won’t have to worry about things getting Core-Cracked.
He grimaced internally. Another Elyndian phrase breaking through his internal dialogue—'Core-Cracked’ being what many Elyndians used to describe things going to shit.
I need to watch that.
Shannon got off her bed and walked over, sitting on the one opposite Naomi and Eric. She held up her hand, and a phantasmal dark-blue cloak with a dagger over it manifested. “I’m a True Stalker.”
“That was a Class?” Peter groaned. “I thought it was a pillar.”
Shannon shrugged. “It was one of the Tomes in the library. Right up front. It just looked right to me, and it felt right when I picked it up. The Paths—” she tapped her temple, “—told me that I’m a True Stalker, since I have the most basic Class associated with the type.”
So, she chose the Stalker type, and the Class called Stalker as well. Literally the archetypal Class in the category, and the most basic of basic. We’re core-crack—gah, fuck me.
Shannon had chosen the blandest, most vanilla, and least unique option in the category. Eric was familiar with it, as he had encountered many people in the military who had it as their first Class acquired at ten years old. He had hoped she would have something more impressive, like what Naomi had picked. It was just like being a basic human fighter in Dungeons and Dragons. Effective, but boring.
Well, silver lining, that means she’ll be extremely versatile. Her build options are going to be so vast that she will probably make a lot of mistakes, and there’s no ability to re-do Rank allocation on level-up unless she does a retraining program and starts from scratch—but that would take years we don’t have.
Peter opened his eyes. “What are we sharing?”
“We’re sharing our Classes,” Shannon replied with a little smile.
“I got Reaver,” Peter replied.
Combat, Vanguard, Eric thought. That fits. A tank that gets stronger the more injured they are and can heal from dealing damage. I need to make sure he doesn’t vanish into the mega dungeon from going all dive crazy. He’s got to be around for the war to come. And, I have to help him keep his head on straight. No battle-junkie Peter this time, if I have anything to say about it.
Eric raised his hand left hand, rotating it to show the Sigils on the back to his allies. “I got Blackflame Mage, which is a Reaper.”
Naomi frowned. “A Class with two names?”
“Yeah,” Eric replied. “That lady in white was a Healing Mage; I imagine it’s just part of the naming scheme, since ‘Mage’ is like a general designation.”
This statement drew approving, subtle nods.
Eric continued. “. . . it seems like we’re going to be expected to show off a bit as our next part of this whole ordeal.”
Naomi rubbed her temples and nodded as she closed her eyes. “I figured something like that would happen. They want to see what we can do. Evaluate us.”
“I asked that healing lady about going back home . . . we’re stuck here. We can’t go back.” Shannon sounded crushed, the sadness overriding the excitement of obtaining fantastic powers. “What do we do?”
Eric spoke up before Naomi could reply. “We do what we can. Help people, try and improve the world around us. We make it the best place possible for others. And if we do that, we’ll improve it for ourselves. If we’re stuck here, why not enjoy it?” He hiked his thumb over his shoulder at the guards. “Summoned sound like powerful resources. I think we’re sort of like political prisoners.”
“Maybe there is a way to return,” Naomi said as she put a hand on Shannon’s knee and squeezed gently. “But I agree with Eric. For now, we make do. We can investigate returning once we figure out more about our immediate situation.”
“I don’t like being a prisoner,” Peter mumbled from his bed across the room, still out of it. “But it’s not like there’s much we can do now.” He made a heaving sound, then leaned over so he retched into a bucket that was stowed under the bed. “This sucks.”
The mana channels that ran through each of them had been forced open. For Eric and Naomi with their non-martial Classes, it was like a secondary nervous system.
For Peter and Shannon? It was both that and having another muscular system, as their Rotes and Skills would alter their physique or its properties. Such was the nature of Vanguards and some martial-aligned Classes from other types.
With a quick glance toward where Shannon had been sitting, Eric confirmed that the True Stalker had partially filled up a bucket of her own. But she didn’t have it as badly as Peter. His mana channels were far more ingrained than hers, since Vanguards would often augment all of their body, whereas Stalkers just augmented parts of their body. It was the difference between might and finesse, or a body builder versus a rock climber: one needed to have mana channels all over, the other only needed them in key locations for specific tasks.
Shannon tapped Eric’s knee, prompting him to look back at her and meet her gaze. “You’ve been so calm during all of this. How?”
Eric tried to smile with as much confidence as he could muster. “Back where I was from, things were bad. People died . . . This whole thing is a fresh start.”
“No offense,” Peter coughed. Then he looked up. “You’re way too calm. You a psycho or something?”
“No,” Eric replied, trying to sound offended. “I’m not a psycho. We were told we can’t go back, we just got these Classes like in a fucking video game, and it seems like we might be able to set ourselves up with a nice life if we play along.” He shrugged. “This seems like the best possible setup we could’ve asked for given the fucked up set of cards we’ve been dealt.”
Naomi eyed him with a bit of caution, but nodded curtly. “Eric’s right. This is about as best as we could’ve asked for. We could have been Summoned to some place where we were immediately put in chains, or killed and eaten. We should make the best of it for now, and we can strategize later.”
Eric stood up and stretched. “I don’t know about you all, but I’m so ready to see what these Rotes and Skills do! From what I saw in those messages in my vision, I’ve got fucking magic!”
“Do you not know? You should’ve received that information download like the rest of us,” Naomi replied.
“Reading it is one thing . . . I bet seeing it is something else entirely.” He looked over at Peter. “We’ve got time until he recovers,” he told the two women. “How about we share a bit about ourselves? If we’re going to stick together, I think it’s important we have more than just names.”
And we need to, Eric thought. Last time we separated far too quickly. Granted, that wasn’t our fault, it was purely because of the Steward, Admiral, and the rest of the small council. We need to be there for each other. You all are the only people I can trust quickly and near the start here, since you don’t have any ties to Elyndor, the various factions, or any individual with power. You’re my wild cards in this grand game.
Eric, Naomi, and Shannon got up and moved over closer to Peter, and took turns sharing little bits about their life back on Earth.
All of them were eighteen and had been born on the same day.
“That must be why we were chosen: same date of birth,” Naomi reasoned. “Anyways, about me . . .”
Naomi came from Washington State and had been on track for a full-ride scholarship to the Michigan Institute of Technology. She wanted to change the world with artificial intelligence, cognitive psychology, and systems engineering. She had even made a VR immersion program, though she’d needed the technology for an actual neural uplink to catch up with her theoretical designs.
Shannon was from Boston. She came from a low-income family and had worked as a waitress in a sportsbook and bar ever since she’d started high school thanks to a fake ID her cousin had whipped up. She knew how to live off the streets and read people. Her older brother had left for the army, and they’d kept in touch with phone calls whenever possible. He was often in combat zones, though, so contact had been sporadic.
“I . . . oh God, he won’t even know what happened to me.”
Eric put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and squeezed, not saying anything, but letting her know that he was there for her.
I don’t know her secrets like I do with Peter, but with this? Stepping in as a surrogate older brother? I can have her in my pocket.
He felt a souring feeling in his stomach and the bile in his mouth from such a distasteful thought.
I won’t abuse her trust. I’ll fill them in when it’s prudent. Once that initial trust is built, I can start giving them intel and bring them into the fold. I’ll need them to know some of the future in order to incorporate their aid into my plans.
Peter spoke next, having recovered a bit more while the others had been sharing. He was also set to be on a full-ride college scholarship, but had to finish out his last year of high school. He was the star football wide receiver, with a good head for business, and was set to inherit his family’s car-repair empire.
“No shit,” Eric said with a smile. “My dad and brother run a repair shop.”
“Nice,” Peter said as he sat up. “Where at?”
“Oakland. My dad set up a twenty-four-hour repair business with another mechanic friend of his.”
“What were you up to, Eric?” Shannon asked softly. “Going into the family business?”
“I was in school. Decent grades, mostly B’s and a few A’s in science. No scholarship like these two,” Eric said with a little grin. “I was beefing up my resume with volunteer work at the hospital near the school. I wanted to be a doctor.”
For the first time since she’d initially shared, Naomi spoke up. “I got a Class that aligns with my inventive and creative nature. Peter got one that is aggressive like his football stuff, and Shannon’s is a bit of an all-rounder for someone who—no offense—lives in the underbelly of society.”
“No offense taken,” Shannon said with a little lighter tone, dropping a bit of her sorrow from before. “I know a lot of bookies and a lot of their loan-shark friends. I’m not proud of it, but I was good at sneaking around and even picking a pocket or two.”
Naomi continued. “Eric. . . you got a Class that doesn’t seem to have anything to do with what you were interested in. I would’ve expected you to get something like Healing Mage, just like the lady who was in here before.” She eyed him with suspicion once more.
Eric let his smile fade into a neutral expression. “I saw the Warden option, and that stood out to me, yeah. But I’ve always liked the idea of being a fire mage, and I didn’t think being a healer would let me throw around fireballs. I chose the pillar that made the most sense for that idea.”
That seemed to catch all three off guard, but Peter spoke first. “I felt . . . drawn to the first pillar I walked through, and the same for the second one. But both still felt like I was making a choice.” The sentiment was echoed by the other two. Peter glanced between the rest. “What did you see when you arrived? Before I chose between Combat Class and Profession, I was on a big football field, then once I went through the first arch thing I was in a parking lot, and after the Vanguard pillar, I was in a library.”
“Strange,” Shannon said as she put a finger to her chin and closed her eyes in thought. “I was in the bar, and then the alleyway behind the bar.” Her eyes opened. “I also had a library at the end.”
Naomi shrugged. “I was at the computer lab, and then at the waterfront, and also a library.” She glanced expectantly at Eric.
Eric chose to lie. Kind of. “I was in my dad’s auto shop, and then the hospital, and finally a library.”
It was true of his first timeline.
No clue why I was in a color-inverted field, then a battlefield. Maybe The Paths’ visualization draws on the person’s past life? The battlefield makes sense, but that other field with the first choice I had to make . . . I don’t think I ever saw or visited a place like that.
Peter rubbed the back of his palm, where the crimson outline of an axe representing his Sigil floated above the skin. “Did you all feel drawn to a specific Tome once you were in the library?” he asked.
“Oh yeah,” Shannon replied. “First one I saw. Such a pretty color. Like a deep blue.”
“Same here,” Naomi added. “My book was a bright green.”
Eric shook his head. “I went farther into the library. The Tome I grabbed was black.”
Peter nodded. “I didn’t choose the first option that stood out, either. I looked around a bit. Red book.”
Naomi smiled. “Seems like the color of the Tome matched up to the color of our Sigil.”
The guards clacked their spears on the floor, drawing all of the Summoned’s attention to where Seraphine stood in the doorway. “Hate to interrupt, but you all seem like you are recovered decently enough. I shall now escort you to the training yard. You have an audience to impress.” She waved a hand dismissively, and the guards left, shutting the wooden door behind her.
Her voice dropped to a lower volume as she approached the still-sitting Summoned. “You want to show off as best you can. There are going to be powerful people in attendance. Merchant lords, craftsmen and women of renown, the noble court—both upper and lower nobility. Not to mention the small council and the king himself.”
“Why?” Naomi asked. “If you wanted us to show off, wouldn’t you want us to train a bit first? Wouldn’t it be better to have us experiment in an isolated location, then show us off like some prize dogs once we were familiar with our new abilities?”
Seraphine’s smile tightened to a grimace. “We follow the ways put down by those who came before us. There is a process to be followed, and in the Kingdom of Trok we do not deviate from custom. As for being prisoners? In a way. You will not be permitted to leave Tenebria—the capital—for the time being. That is as much for your own safety as to keep you close by. Make no mistake, you are assets to the crown and will be treated as such.”
Shannon said, “So, we’re going to be, what, trained to do what you want? Forced to work for you?”
Seraphine sighed and shook her head. “No. Not quite. There is some amount of freedom to be had. I simply ask you to trust the process. We are not like the Empire of Pwish or Flescion, who treat their Summoned like chattel. There is an egalitarian leaning to the way the Kingdom of Trok operates.”
Shannon glanced at Peter, then Eric, and Eric shrugged. “Another few countries, probably,” Eric reasoned. A logical conclusion, though of course he knew both Flescion and the Empire of Pwish were other countries across the seas.
“If we do impress, what will happen?” Peter asked.
“Opportunities will open up,” Seraphine replied. “Connections can be made. Impress, and you could easily set yourself up for life.” She looked directly at Eric and flashed a smile. “I expect to see some fantastic displays out of you four.” Her face resumed its perfect, polished expression of regality. “Now let’s go. You have a show to put on.”
Eric stood. “I can’t wait to see what I can do.” And he meant it.