Tristan watched as Corona wove strands of light into a tapestry against the night sky. They had given up the search for the gemstone hours ago, and when they’d inspected the place where Corona herself had been found the only thing unusual had been how clear of debris it was. All in all, the entire trip out here had been a waste of time so far as the investigation went. Fortunately, that hadn’t been Tristan’s primary reason for coming here.

That reason now sat on the shattered remains of a statue and painted him pictures in the sky of another world. Corona had leveled up over a dozen times under his tutelage, which he was quite satisfied with given the short amount of time they’d had to train.

It had helped that she already had a sense of how all this worked. She’d called what he’d been doing a “Training Montage” and when he hadn’t understood the reference they had finally gotten to talking about her world and its culture.

The real show had begun after Tristan suggested she spend some of her progression points on ranks in her Strands of Light skill. He’d been curious what the skill was for, given its apparent uselessness as illusion magic. Skills that seemed to have no obvious use frequently ended up revealing what they were good for at higher ranks or through evolution. Strands was only a tier 1 skill with five total ranks, so leveling it up wouldn’t be too costly.

The second rank had allowed Corona to create simple static images and hang them in the air. The third had given her the ability to manipulate the images after she’d created them. That had gotten her excited for some reason, and she’d invested yet another rank into it. Six progression points were a lot at her level, and Tristan cautioned her against spending more.

Corona had then shown him why she was excited about the skill. The class gave bonus experience for affecting a large number of people, and Tristan had assumed that meant that it was intended for warfare in some way. He had been wrong. As it turned out, Essence Weaver probably wasn’t a combat focused class at all.

For the past hour he had sat and watched as Corona told the story of her world with moving images made of pure light projected against a backdrop of stars. She hadn’t placed it high above them, just enough for it to be comfortable to lie back with his head propped up on his folded up cloak. As she wove the images Corona spoke about the scenes she was showing him, and her cadence revealed her to be versed in the act of both storytelling and lectures.

She had already explained some things about her old world of course, but now he was beginning to understand it on a whole different level. He had taken their lack of magic to mean that their society must be primitive - perhaps as rustic as this backwater of a city, but on a larger scale. He had heard her talk about the machines that ran their world, but he hadn’t understood that those machines were their own sort of magic. Not an individual’s magic like he was used to, but the magic of a million clever minds and strong hands working together in concert.

Corona’s people had, without magic, made themselves into gods. They had created sentient life, and their games were practically worlds themselves. They had no species besides humans, and no ability to evolve, yet some among them had begun using their technology to redefine what it meant to be human in a way that Tristan would have called an evolution. Their world was so full of people that he could hardly credit it, and with increasing amazement he saw them build ships to sail between the stars, looking for new homes on other worlds.

It was awe inspiring, and it was terrifying. Tristan reflected that these Travelers were more dangerous than anyone in his world would be able to credit, not because of any power they held, but simply because each and every one of them understood what could be accomplished with nothing but the power of a mortal mind. He had asked her why she would ever want to leave such wonders behind.

Then she showed him the other side of the coin.

Tristan witnessed a world where millions of lives could be snuffed out in an instant. Weapons of such horrifying power that he could barely understand the scope of their ability to destroy. Marvels were turned into tools of oppression, and people rejoiced at their own enslavement.

He saw a world that had been built on the strength of billions, but which had become too large for any one person to matter. It was carried forward on its own momentum, but no one was in control and all they could do was pray that the next turn wouldn’t be the last.

“How did you stand it?” he asked her, when the story ended, and the lights finally went out. “To know you had so much, yet so little?”

“We each cope with it a little differently, I think. Some people genuinely don’t know. They don’t see the big picture. There’s a saying we have: Ignorance is bliss. If you aren’t aware of something it can’t fuck you up mentally. For those of us who knew, well we had to learn to avoid thinking about it. People who couldn’t do that either went insane or took their own lives when the pressure got too much for them to bear anymore,” she told him.

“If there’s one thing we really got good at, it was making distractions for ourselves. What I just did, showing you all that, we had billions of machines that could do that every hour of every day. Any time you didn’t want to think you could just turn off your brain and watch something funny, or look at cute animals, or whatever. You wonder why none of us Travelers even considered that we might be in another world? It’s because our games got so good we stopped being able to tell the difference between them and reality, except that the games hurt less.”

They looked out over the fire-lit city below them, stretching out and away from the hill the ruins of the cathedral sat on. “We didn’t doubt for a moment this was a game, because games are simpler than real life. They work on rules you can read and understand. There’s a logic to it that anyone with some sense can pick up on.”

Corona dropped her gaze from the city and looked over to Tristan, meeting his eyes for the first time in hours. “That’s not how the real world works. I became a physics professor because physics works like that. For every action, a reaction. Conservation of energy. Inertia. We can test those things; we can produce predictable results. Even the weird quantum shit makes sense in its own way. With people though? Society? Nah, that shit’s fucked.”

Tristan didn’t understand everything she’d said, but he understood the meaning behind her words. “People are people, anywhere you go,” he told her. “I can understand how this place must seem simpler to you. We have the gods watching over us, giving us direction, and the System providing a framework of rules that apply to everyone equally. I’m sure you’ve already noticed that it’s far from perfect, but yes in many ways it is simpler.”

With one hand Tristan gestured, bringing up The Light of Truth between them. “It’s also the case that in this world power is concentrated more with an individual than with society itself, and I cannot be sure that this is an improvement. Certainly, it means that one man or woman can make more of a difference on their own, and I hear in your voice a longing to do just that, but look at all your people have accomplished through simple cooperation, each generation lifting up the one before. It is inspiring on a scale I have never before seen. The gods themselves must be in awe of what you have accomplished.”

“You really think so?” Corona asked, sounding contemplative.

“I don’t know what other worlds might be out there, but I don’t see how they couldn’t be. Seemingly without their help, and without any magic of your own, you’ve managed to not only survive but thrive. No wonder they brought you here, they no doubt want you to apply your terrifying ingenuity to their latest experiment.” Tristan only half joked.

Corona shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe you’re right. They certainly seem to have borrowed a lot of our ideas for this place. Game systems, character sheets, experience, skills… It’s all familiar to pretty much anyone from Earth. Even if you weren’t into games, it’d be hard not to have at least heard the terms.”

She leaned back against the cathedral wall again and looked up at the star filled sky. “It’s out there somewhere. The FAQ said so. Less than thirty light years away even. You know that means that if I started making huge flashes of light in the sky right now, I could send a message back home that they’d see thirty years from now? They couldn’t do anything about it of course, but they’d know we were here and that we were still alive. It makes me wonder what it is that gives you all magic and us none. If our spaceships get far enough away from earth will their passengers suddenly get superpowers?”

Tristan didn’t know the answers to those questions, so he asked one of his own. “Did you ever look and see what that achievement you got the other night did?”

Corona grunted. “You know, I forgot. I’m pretty sure it unlocked a skill though… Yeah, here it is.” She said, sharing the skill with him.

Stolen novel; please report.

> Overcharge

>

> Passive Skill (Tier 4)

>

> Prerequisites: Achievement (Overpowered)

>

> Rank: 0 / 10

>

> PP: 0 / 8

>

> You may safely possess 10% more spiritual energy than your spirit could normally handle for each rank in this skill. Spiritual energy above your normal maximum will be lost if not used quickly, draining every second at a rate based on your Willpower.

“That’s not a bad skill.” Tristan said. “For you in particular. I’d focus on removing your species penalty first, and then making sure you have a good foundation, but that skill is what we’d refer to as an amplifier. When you have the resources to make use of it then it should make you better at just about everything.”

Tristan pushed himself up, standing for the first time since night fell. He reached down and offered a hand to Corona. “I think we’ve learned all we can here,” he told her. “Let's get back to the keep and write up our report, then get some real rest. We’ll have a long day ahead of us tomorrow as well. I want to follow up on that report we received regarding the stolen relic.”

“Do you really think that’s going to go anywhere?” Corona said, taking the offered hand. “That guy seemed skeezy as fuck.”

“I’m not sure, but one thing you can’t afford to do when dealing with The Adversary is leave any lead unfollowed. He loves to catch people not doing their jobs, and he often hides truths where you would expect to find only falsehood.”

They began their walk back to the keep, but Corona slapped a hand against her head, letting out a small sound of frustration. “I keep forgetting to tell you. I saw you writing up that guy’s story and I didn’t want to interrupt, but one of the things we Travelers have access to is a notepad in our system menus. If you want, it’s basically like a freeform log, and if it has a limit, I haven’t found it yet. Since I’m your assistant, I can write down anything you want me to keep notes on and we’ll be able to reference it later, no paper needed.”

Tristan’s eyebrows rose. “That’s not even a skill? You just have that? All of you?”

“Far as I can tell, yeah,” she confirmed.

He shook his head. “If you happen to speak to the gods again, I’d appreciate it if you asked them to add that to everyone’s interface. It would be incredibly helpful. In the meantime, yes, take as many notes as you can. There’s no telling when some small detail will prove critical.”

***

When the sound of voices had faded, and she was sure the Arbiter and his assistant had gone for good, Cassara pushed aside the grate covering the entrance to the sewer she’d been hiding in since before they had arrived.

She’d been waiting for nightfall and had been surprised when the pair showed up and began searching for something. Briefly she was concerned that they were looking for her, but then it became clear they were looking for some tiny object, based on the way they would occasionally kneel down to brush aside dirt and rubble.

She’d been cursing her luck ever since coming to this place and had initially figured that this was yet another setback, but whatever the two had been looking for, they obviously hadn’t found it. At least the Cataclysm hadn’t taken her. She’d been warned that it was a possibility. That her mission could fail before it even truly began.

Cassara stretched, letting her wings unfurl from her back as she did so. The sewer pipe she’d been hiding in had been cramped, and she hadn’t dared go above ground in the three months she’d been waiting since she’d been summoned to this world. Now though, she had no choice, her target couldn’t be reached from the sewer system.

“Move out of the way, would you?” An annoyed voice hissed from the darkness of the sewer. A man was there, trying to crawl out from the too small pipe. Where she had been cramped, he had been nearly claustrophobic. She stood aside but didn’t offer him any assistance, despite the fact that he looked ill from the experience.

The man was a lesser servant of her Lord and bore no consideration. He was needed for what came next, but he was weak. She knew she would have to take care of most of it on her own.

When he finally managed to stand, she grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the broken building that had once been Astraea’s cathedral. He grunted in protest but had come to expect this treatment in the short time they’d known each other, and so didn’t complain.

Everyone had a place in her Lord’s plans, but Cassara knew that her place in this plan was special. She’d not been chosen on merit, or at least not only on merit, as was typically her Lord’s way. Instead, she’d been chosen because very few agents had her specific qualifications. She needed to succeed at this task and prove herself worthy of her Lord’s trust. Failure was inconceivable.

On the other hand, the Malconvoker she’d been assigned to was annoyingly competent. Despite his weakness and slow movements, he had a track record of success that stretched back decades. It annoyed her that one so frail and useless could somehow be so successful, but in her Lord’s service success was the only measure of worth that mattered. Still, she couldn’t wait to be free of him.

The two of them entered the ruined building, making sure to avoid the burnt and broken scaffolding as much as possible. The last thing they needed was for the building to fall down on top of them. Things got better as they found the first landmark they were looking for, a path down into the cathedral’s crypts.

In the crypts it became difficult to tell that anything had happened up above, beyond some disturbed dust and some knocked over urns. Her partner muttered a few words as they walked, and the dust behind them re-settled into a haphazard pattern that revealed nothing of their presence. He used this same skill multiple times as they descended deeper into the darkness, neither of them requiring any light to see by.

On the second floor of the crypt, they found what they were looking for. At the end of the hall was a stone sarcophagus set partially into the floor. Its heavy lid was sealed shut with bands of dark metal, and inscribed on its base was a name. “Here Lies Talcion Strumald, First Duke of Altria.”

The Malconvoker went to work. From a sack tied to his waist he produced a small black orb. He rolled the orb between his palms, and then used his fingers to shape it into a tiny figure of a man, its form molding like dough at his touch.

When he had done this, he spoke to it. “Telvarn, it’s time to wake up.”

Suddenly small eyes appeared on the tiny figure, then a mouth which yawned hugely as a pudgy arm with no hand to speak of reached up and rubbed at the newly formed eyes.

“Is it morning already…?” asked the strange creature.

With some shock, Cassara identified it as a greater daemon. Greater daemons were hideously strong, and notoriously difficult to control. Most demonologists wouldn’t involve them in anything but the most extreme tasks. The danger of something going wrong was simply too great, yet this man carried one around in his coin purse. Why had they spent hours in the sewer if he had such power at his command?

Cassara bit down her questions, watching the man work. Now was not the time to interrupt. At the man’s direction the tiny daemon waddled around on the sarcophagus, undoing the wards and protections on it like a child untying his shoes, eager to show its parents a new trick.

All the while the man praised it and offered encouraging suggestions. Finally, the two of them made a game out of prying loose the metal bands holding the lid shut, and the childlike daemon shouted in victory as he won the simple game.

The man then said goodnight to the daemon, promising to read it a bedtime story next time. Then he rolled it back up into a ball and placed it back in his sack, finally looking up at Cassara as he did so.

“I believe the next part is on you,” he said, with a small smile.

Cassara ground her teeth, then bit back her pride and said, “I have decided that you are worthy of me knowing your name. What is it?”

The man looked at her with absolutely no change in his expression. “I do apologize, I thought you must realize. I’m afraid you don’t have sufficient clearance to know it.”

She growled but made no move to punish him. There was every possibility that he was telling her the truth. “At least tell me, how did you get that greater daemon to obey you like that? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

He chuckled slightly. “Oh, that was quite the trick. The method earned me quite a few scarabs back in the day, but it’s old news by now. When I created the little fellow, I fed him my son’s soul as part of the arguments, then simply convinced him that since he was made from my son’s soul, he must in fact be my son. I had of course spent many years before then raising my son as a loving and obedient boy who would always do whatever his father asked of him because we loved each other so very much.”

Cassara looked at her partner with new respect. This man was clearly not to be trifled with. No wonder he had The Lord Adversary’s favor. She bowed before him, in awe of his genius.

“No need for that dear. Now let's get this thing open and then you should be off to get the tools we’ll need to continue. We’re close enough now that there’s no chance of losing it.”

Cassara immediately lept into action. She wasn’t the strongest devil, but she had more than enough strength to lift the stone lid from the sarcophagus. It had been held on mostly through magic and the enchanted metal bands the daemon had torn through like they were poorly made paper.

Inside the sarcophagus was a dark void that not even her eyes could pierce. There was no body, no dusty bones or ancient jewelry. Just a pit of darkness descending out of sight.

She breathed a sigh of relief on seeing it. There was still danger ahead but getting to this point had always been the hard part. She had worried that the Cathedral’s destruction would seal off this route, but it had turned out to be a stroke of good fortune. Sneaking in here with people present had been likely to result in discovery.

Behind her, the Malconvoker began casting illusions and wardings over the area, hiding what they had done from any who came down here in the coming days. It was going to take some time for the next part to be ready, but now very little could stop them.