Hey, future inheritor. This is the part where I get to tell you that after nearly a month of intense training under Drafodil, I was shaping up to be a bad-ass. It would be a lie but but it's also true that with three seconds of attack time between me and an opponent below Tier V, that I know is there, they're toast. Yup, despite my efforts to be as all-around as possible I'm still a glass cannon who could be one shot by an assassin an entire Tier below me.

That's not to say that Drafodil didn't try to get me some combat preparedness. I just don't have the instinct for it. Sure, I can get rough and rowdy if I want but when it comes down to it I just grew up too long in a soft environment. It probably wouldn't bother me so much if Sable, when he's not pensively staring off into space, didn't comfort me that it'll be alright as long as I have a stronger man to lean on as I usually do. Fine, glass cannon, but simpering fucking princess!? Roll the hell on out of here!

Where I was falling short of the mark fighting wise, however, I was more than kicking ass in enchanting and model analysis. I could outfit a whole regiment in decent self-repairing armor in under three days. I could also whip up a perfect Jack Daniels steak and shrimp dinner with an imported lager at the snap of a finger without that stupid ring. The best news was the solid chunk of ground floor models for both conjuring and enchanting my class and profession assists should have been giving me but wasn't.

I should have felt bothered by it all, the staying put and training thing. I had made up my mind to get out there and be more bad-ass only to have myself ganged up on to stay put with all kinds of polite but demoralizing reasons. Looking back now, I should have realized that things were really wrong but I wasn't used to people trying to protect me and I was missing the queues. I mean, even Drafodil was acting a bit out of character with her volunteering of all kinds of information I usually have to pull from her like a dentist.

Troy was coming in for R&R regularly, looking worn out and desperate for rest. He kept fobbing off my attempts to tag along with explanations that he was just racking up AP so he could play catch up but my mission updates were silent as the grave. After cornering him at one point, I finally got the hint that the other participants didn't want me anywhere near them. Aside from the monk dude, Troy was the only one from our 'graduating class' that didn't think I was some kind of soul eating monster that managed to slip justice on a loophole. The sad part was that I couldn't 100% disagree. Even if it wasn't my fault, I did end some people and it wasn't just their lives but all future ones as well. I'm not so emo that I felt tore up about it but I didn't exactly feel guilt free either.

Rohn was off doing his thing at the settlement where his family was. At the beginning he was coming back to visit and attend to 'needs' a couple times a week but after the middle of week three I didn't see him again for nine days. When he finally showed up he looked emotionally strained to the breaking point. It took some doing but I got the truth out of him. Aaron was holding his daughter hostage and blackmailing him about reporting me to a Balance Keeper representative. Apparently, the asshole ancestor was taking advantage of the invasion chaos to rob this world of strategic resources and there wasn't a damn thing any of us could do to stop him. That was the start of the downward slide as the truth of just how shitty the situation actually was started spilling out.

Glaucous was never a ray of sunshine on the best of days but it became obvious over the time leading to the big reveal of Rohn, that whatever bad news Usuway had shared with Glaucous was rolling out red carpet style. The only thing that kept me from suicide bombing Aaron's ass into oblivion was Glaucous' insistence that I was the only one who had the ability to make this tragedy turn around. When I tried to question him on just how I was supposed to do that he'd get tight-lipped. I got the distinct impression that this was Ripple Lady's final gambit from the get go.

When I felt Rohn's connection sever and power burned a black filigree 6 into the chest of my corporeal form, Glaucous helped me through the grief by telling me that my son and Little Gray were removed from anyone's reach. When Troy's name showed up on the condolences list, Glaucous revealed that Troy had left an inheritance for me to give to the one who bore the same true name as himself. And when a silver 9 burned into me as a compliment to the 6, Glaucous kept me sane by explaining that Little Sprite and her siblings had come into their own and she would take care of Lilly.

By the time that Drafodil's call mark had disappeared I had pretty much figured out that the Observers where working hand in hand with the Balance Keepers to remove all presence of pop's legacy from this reality. I was on the verge of giving up when Glaucous took me into hiding. By that point, the only thing that kept me from axing myself to avoid having to live in that fresh hell was Glaucous' obvious need for emotional support and he had given up too much for me to allow myself to turn my back on him or leave him alone.

On the morning I woke up to him crying as he revealed that he refused to allow us to be drawn out by a bounty crew and let the residents of Seaside be tortured to death instead, I lost all faith in the hollow hope he had us holding out for. Yet still we did not turn ourselves in. Glaucous lost himself in a daze of cognitive dissonance, refusing to give up the burned out shell of hope that had allowed him to let everything go for my sake. I locked myself into a loop of self punishment, giving all the comfort I could with my body and the embers of my all-but-dead heart, even as I hated myself for not having the courage to refuse his protection when I could have saved something for him.

Since they had failed in finding us and had ran out of leverage to lure us out, the Balance Keepers, backed by the support of the Observers, motioned to allow a world-eater to remove the threat I represented. The Guardian Alliance managed to wring a concession of three months for the remaining participants to have a chance at reaching Tier V, even as they appealed for me to martyr myself for all the life on the world. God help me, I wanted to but Glaucous used everything in his arsenal to keep me from doing it. I made my final compromise to him that I'd do everything I could to survive with him until the last week. If his dark miracle didn't appear by then I wasn't willing to drag a whole world with me to death.

The things we did during the nearly two months that follows I won't even allow my inheritor to know. Anything that a person hunted by a whole world would have to do to survive we had done. Before the nightmare was over I became a soul-eater in truth. Every victim that fell to us made us stronger. And in that twisted time, when I had darkened my existence beyond redemption, Glaucous joined me in depravity. When I had reached the point where I did not feel worthy of anything but oblivion, through either sublime delusion or a strength of faith beyond my ability to comprehend,Glaucous preserved a small part of our old selves for us both, even as I pushed him into a repulsive godhood and sent every bit of nurturing spirit through the line to Grimalkin as I felt he could safely hold.

In those darkest of times, Glaucous became the last bastion of my love and sanity, even as I began to hate him more than any other living creature in existence. With each respite between endless fights for survival, I would brutally drive my tainted power into him only to have it given back purified. That grace repaid by cramming it back into the core of him with as much vitriol as I could manage. When he could stand it no more, he would overwhelm me, rape me to near the point of death. It was only in those moments that I could pierce through the monster I had become back to the person I once was. I would promise to love him more than even my Little Gray if he would only finish it. Despite being sincere, despite something within him even wanting to claim that all encompassing and fatal love for himself, he would not. Once I was healed and we were mowing our way through another obstacle whose only crime was the desire to live, I would hate him just a little more.

It was after one such release, clinging to him and whispering words of love and death into his chest with my blood and his seed flowing to pool in his lap, that Beta Zero finally appeared. My user interface opened on it's own before the window showed an endless mandala of fractals that even my expanded dimensional mind could not fully comprehend. Our first exchange was brief and succinct. It told me to take in as much of the scene as I could and incorporate it into my existence structure. It would safeguard and stabilize me through guidance. It told me to relay to Glaucous that the time of returning was nigh.

The moment that Glaucous heard me say those words, it was as if his very being had rewound to that moment, what seemed a lifetime ago, when we had finished sharing for the first time as bonded. As I studied the mandala and healed, he cleaned all the evidence of our violent union away before taking me back into his embrace. Never in our sordid history, as unbearably long yet short in reality as it was, did he hold me as gently as he did in that moment. I could feel him pulling his divinity apart to feed it back to me as I took the impossibly complex structure and made it my own. I could feel how unstable both of us were. He dropped to the bottom of Tier V existence as I breached its border and climbed to the apex of it.

To keep things simple and to avoid unnecessary complications, BZ explained that my father had claimed a pyrrhic victory to remove a needed obstruction. The goal he was striving for was now possible and I could obtain the first secret he had hidden from me for my safety and the completion of his goals. That secret was BZ and the true first step was to merge with an iteration of reality that came before this one, in order of nearness to origin, but in a later time-space. I'm not entirely sure I understood it as well as I should have but it didn't matter.

All the prerequisites for doing so had been met, if some only barely. I would burn up all of my acquired power to merge my soul core and BZ with that reality's iteration of me. By the skillful manipulations of Usuway, the consciousness of Glaucous and the legacies of those fallen would follow as well. BZ would stand in place of Hiidan and my burgeoning domain would be diminished and laid dormant, along with it's handful of preserved metaphysical resources, to be claimed again when I was ready.

Now you might be asking why I would essentially be willing to lay it all down on something so whacked out it sounded more fantasy than real possibility, more raw and forceful manipulation than benevolent guidance. It's pretty simple. I wanted to die anyway. I didn't really care at that point. There was one big reason too. I was given a wild hope to become part of the me that resided in the same reality that my son and love resided in. Even if I might not ever become a part of their lives in the same way I was separated from them, I had a chance to be a part of their lives in some way. That really relies on you, inheritor. I just hope that, if you are anything like me at all, you will want that too. I'm willing to take what I can get!

***

“A complicated and painful life, condensed into an afternoon of storytelling,” Orison said as he toweled himself off.

Wren Orison Tidren, that's what my Social Security card says but no one except my mom calls me Wren. Your dad was your best friend but I knew from the age of four that dad was unhinged and as soon as I had the first opportunity I hightailed to mom's. Seems to me that the biggest diversion of direction between us was you grew up with ol' psycho dad and was his crazy glue. I ran off to mom. Well sorry to break the news to you, if you're in there other self, but dad killed a police officer after being pulled over drunk. He died in prison last year.

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I'm only 19 years old, ironically going to the same Pennsylvania university that Troy will supposedly be going to in, what, 17 years from now? Right now he's still getting potty trained by his mom and Lilly isn't even born yet. Am I supposed to trashcan my entire life plan to prepare myself for a life of short, unbearable hell in 18 years?

Orison looked down at the blood stains on the front of his favorite shirt and next-to-best pair of jeans laying on the bathroom floor of his dorm. He ruminated on all that he had absorbed of Wren's life over the last six hours and what it meant to integrate with Beta Zero. As he rubbed some baking soda and lemon juice into the nose bleed spots he started reformulating his life direction and what he would do.

Orison said, “Buzz, can I turn this down? What good is this possibility of power and all, if it only results in some of the most powerful groups in existence wanting me dead?”

BZ responded, “You are already registered. It is a secure line directly from the source that the SYSTEM utilizes. You can access the SYSTEM but it's through proxy. In your 37th year, a directive will be issued that you are queued to enter. The only way that you have to avoid it is unscheduled termination of life functions. Even then you will be resurrected in transit, reducing your chances of success in surviving the trials.

“Your concerns about the Observers and Balance Keeper's direct targeting are exaggerated to the second year of initiation. Even then, the potential involvements only increase by the tens of percentiles for a range of decades to centuries. Usuway and the one your iteration refers to as Little Sprite have made thorough preparations to insure your obfuscation from detection. Under the unlikely supposition that you discover a potential course that would exclude you from selections, once your soul shed this mortal coil, the obfuscation that surrounds you would be dismissed with time and your reincarnation would be forced to confront the enemies of your spiritual progenitor without adequate protection and resources at your disposal. It is do or die, in the words of the one you recognize as Hiidan.”

Orison stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and said, “Well, shit. In all seriousness it was just morbid curiosity. So do I have to kowtow to this SYSTEM thing to get the points I need to get the stuff back my other self already got?”

BZ responded, “No. The original design is fueled with what you know as SE. Achievement points is a control factor for development and restriction of recruited individuals. This was not the intention of Origin's learning protocol. This is not an unexpected development, however. It is a part of Origin's acceptable deviation. It is a predictable development for beings who have discovered a method to garner greater power and ability to hoard such secrets for themselves and those they approve of.”

Orison pondered for a bit before he said, “How does that work? How do I accumulate SE as a normal person?”

BZ responded, “Life experiences of all varieties enrich your existence but do nothing to elevate it directly. Instead of offering that up to a deity or dedicating it to another existence capable of forming bonds as a maelstrom born may, I will cap it for you and allow its accumulation. You will not be able to use it till after the trial in 18 years. To allow you access to elevation before that would alert the observers to anomalous activity. Assuming a productive use of time within the allotted period , you should have more than enough for an advantageous beginning.”

“Any suggestions for preparing myself? And while I'm thinking about it, is there a way I can do anything for my future teammates without derailing them?” Orison asked.

“If your direction is to follow in the footsteps of your iteration I would suggest focusing on accumulating knowledge in engineering, both mechanical and biological, and earth sciences. Chemistry would also be of value. Familiarity would be enough. The resources of Origin's learning protocol are vast and superior in every way.

“The largest weakness of your iteration was a lack of self defense ability at lower existence levels. Combat becomes more metaphysical as you elevate but initial survival would be greatly complimented by martial prowess. The method of best approach to increase exposure while minimizing risk to personal safety lies in mixed martial arts competitions. Due to your vessel's lack of endurance, physical fitness and low tolerance to the pain and emotional stress of such confrontation I would suggest a personal trainer while you are attending university. Financial instability limits such options, however I can assist you in the procurement of resources within certain limitations to reduce what your scientists would refer to as the 'Butterfly Effect.'

“In respect to your future teammates, their choosing was based on an algorithm which calculates potential versus attachment to current life. Any involvement that improves their lives may exclude them from selection. You are not without recourse for platonic companionship, however. The monk known as Jampa would deviate the least from contact with you. Contrarily it would benefit you both as Jampa has some proficiency in the contemplation of mandalas and meditation is a spiritual building exercise that is acceptable even to the sterile environment charters of Earth.”

Orison smiled weakly as he said, “Surely I'm not expected to push becoming a 'wizard' am I?”

BZ responded, “No. By analysis, abstinence is a mentally detrimental practice beyond certain statistical limits. Pardon the personal analysis but your brain chemistry is regulated to more favorably respond to same sex stimulus although personal conditioning has allowed for romantic attraction to opposite sex partners. Might I sug-”

Orison interrupted with, “Alright. That's enough. I-I appreciate the input but I get it. That's an issue that I'd prefer left not discussed.”

“Your discomfort has been noted, Orison. I will refrain from further mentioning of this subject unless related to other relevant topics,” BZ stated evenly.

“Well, sounds like we got a plan at least. If you don't mind, Buzz, I'm going to lay down and have a nice mental breakdown because the shock is wearing off,” Orison said as he began shaking and screaming incomprehensibly into his pillow.

Unperturbed, BZ responded, “Very well, Orison. Have a productive dissonance relief session.”

***

Orison spent four years at university earning a bachelors degree whose purpose was said to be geared towards nanotechnology research. Professors and faculty alike were impressed with Orison's GPA and dedication to pure learning. All were baffled to see him frequently showing up to classes with bruises and scrapes throughout his stay at university. His fourth year adviser was more than visibly upset when Orison announced that he would be leaving university despite efforts to secure an invite and full ride to MIT. Most chalked it up to another case of a student who was too smart for his own good. The few who claimed to know him chalked it up to mental instability. After all, he spent an inordinate amount of time mumbling to himself and staring off into space, slack jawed. It didn't help that he moved off campus before the end of first semester and was well known to have a terrifying thuggish individual, that changed on a yearly basis, visit and beat him up for the entirety of his four years of enrollment.

His moderate success in gambling and stock market day trading earned him even more mystique. A few of girls and even a couple gentlemen would occasionally be seen accompanying him from time to time but none managed to keep his attention for more than a few weeks. That all stopped towards the end of third year when he seemed to get pretty serious about his third 'thug'. He even officially dated and enjoyed nearly a year of on and off romance before third thug put him in the hospital for two weeks. It was obvious that Orison was suffering from more than a broken collarbone as he became particularly withdrawn.

Two friends that had nominally managed to worm their way past Orison's odd defensive barrier, pestered him about his direction after he left school. They wondered why he kept wandering off to some remote location in Cambodia for months at a time. He would frequently fob off the young married couple with platitudes but after a few years of their persistent attempts to keep connected with him, he rewarded their selfless friendship by adding them to his beneficiary listings for when he disappeared. He had no doubts that with number three on the way they'd need a little financial boost in the future. He didn't realize they'd be getting that benefit quite a bit earlier than he had intended.

At a charity event with Jampa, Orison had blocked his monk friend from the random spray of a gun toting gangster. It took quite some time for him to die but it gave Orison time to remind Jampa to insist his last will was carried out. He was buried near Jampa's home temple at the age of 27, despite not being cremated. Nearly a decade later, Jampa uncovered Orison's grave to find his friend remarkably well preserved. Despite the desecration that it would normally represent, Jampa took out a large bag of goods and buried them with his old friend to honor an odd request. Burning a few joss sticks for his 'old friend', Jampa lamented the transience of this world and wondered how many of the dubious things his friend had hinted at from time to time were more than the mutterings of a bright but mad young man.

***

BZ said, “I often have underestimated the vanity and hubris of humans. Orison, please put on your oxygen mask or this will be a very short respite before the beginning of the trials.”

The newly resurrected Orison did as he was instructed. While he was at it he cleaned a little and changed into the tactical suit with all the accouterments of a modern mercenary minus the gun and any high tech gadgets that wouldn't be allowed. Orison wasn't exactly sure how Jampa had gotten his hands on all the things that Orison had wanted but there wasn't a single item missing. He took a brief moment to chuckle over the thought of an orange robed monk walking into an arms dealer or a drug dealer's den and request some of the things that he'd asked for. Knowing his friend that's not likely how he got them but it amused Orison to think of the possibility.

Orison was contemplating just how much more bushy Jampa's eyebrows could have become or how many more smile wrinkles lined the old man's eyes when BZ interrupted with, “I took the liberty of preparing a restoration instant effect for you from your accumulation. It's not as all encompassing of emergencies as the Second Chance effect but you cannot earn a death twice denied title or all the preparations will have been in vain. The plans of your spiritual progenitor will become highly improbable without you but a 15% chance of success is better than the .05% chance of success if you are uncovered this early. I still consider this a better choice than all language considering the people you will be wanting to talk with, you already speak the language of.

“Unlike your iteration's time here, it's not necessary for you to win any points but it would reduce suspicions to some degree if you could at least earn enough for all translate and class assistance. Troy and Lilly's circumstances are similar to what your iteration remembers but Troy's hip is shattered instead of his wrist. Fortunately your expertise is a little more robust than last time. Lilly cut her left arm partially before the transfer so you won't be able to rely on her aid to take on the summoned creature. Lastly, it is Quetzalcoatl's wife that is hosting the trial and she is known to be a bit more bloodthirsty than her husband. Expect a minor increase in difficulty and reward.”

Orison looked pensive as he said, “Is there a way to toss this oxygen mask where I can retrieve it on the second transfer?”

BZ replied, “Within a 10% room for error if you can follow the guidance window within the same average performance of your We sports record.”

“Speaking of which, have I missed any good upgrades to game consoles?” Orison asked.

“Yes. There have been two generations of console upgrades for that company since your 'dirt nap', Orison. Your favorite fantasy game series has had two incarnations as an MMORPG as well.” BZ replied without missing a beat.

Orison looked a little sad as he said, “That's disheartening.”

After taking a bit of time to tidy up the large amount of belongings and give his best try at pitching the small diver's tank with mask, he gave BZ the go-ahead.