Glade turned around at the sound of his least favorite Adjudicator’s voice, taking in the darkened silhouette of the tall, reedy man against a backdrop of white.
He knew well before heading into the labyrinth that meeting the detestable demi-god was likely. Whether he liked it or not, Glade was a full-fledged Branded. Dealing with the eccentricities of Adjudicators appeared to be his lot in this life. Still, there had been a minor hope that their mutual dislike for one another would have tipped the scale enough in his favor that they wouldn’t have to meet.
So much for hope.
“Acumen,” Glade said in a flat tone, not bothering to hide his annoyance.
The two watched each other for one long, drawn out moment. Glade had no idea what was going through the Adjudicator’s mind. If the being was anything like the power-hungry leaders back on Earth he was likely thinking something stupid like ‘whoever speaks first loses.’
Well, he wasn’t in the mood for games and wasn’t one to beat around the bush. The sooner he got back to enacting the plan to free his friend the better.
“As far as I’m concerned you can let me go,” Glade said, finally breaking the silence, “I’m not interested in hearing you out or ranking up my skills. The only reason I’m here…”
“Is to free one of your missing allies. Yes, we are well aware of your intentions,” Acumen interrupted in that infuriatingly nasal voice. Seriously, he sounded just like a shut-in physics professor who hadn’t showered in a week and had one of those bad comb overs. How a godlike being could sound so nerdy was beyond him.
“We?” Glade asked, wondering if any of the other adjudicators were going to pop in on this unwanted reunion.
“Is that a formal request for information?” Acumen asked, cocking his head to the side.
“What?” Glade asked, the question taking him off guard.
“Is your elementary inquiry about the interests and attention of the other Adjudicators a formal request?” Acumen said slowly in his trademark stale monotone voice.
Glade almost shot off a sarcastic response but held his frustration in check. From his limited experience, he didn’t think these primordial beings bandied about words without intention. Especially Acumen. The creep was a lot of things, but being flippantly spontaneous wasn’t one of them. Which meant there was significance behind the simple question. But why? Did everyone go through this line of questioning when they entered the labyrinth?
Even as the question formed in his mind, Glade dismissed the idea. Adjudicators didn’t appear to just anyone. Especially not in this form. From what he had gathered during his last time meeting with them, Credos had let slip that most people only witnessed their base forms, or fragments as they called them. This form was their next level up and somehow gave them more autonomy. He personally didn’t understand it, but then again, he didn’t understand a great deal of how things worked on this strange new world.
No, there was more to this question, he was sure of it. The problem was, he didn’t know. He could guess, but that didn’t sit well with him either. Knowing his luck, he’d just be dragged into some other quest or something equally ridiculous.
“No…” Glade said after thinking it through. Best to keep things simple and end the conversation as quickly as possible. “But like I was saying, I don’t have the time to deal with you right now. So, if you could release me so I can rescue my friend, I’d appreciate it.”
“Your consciousness has been removed from the linear temporal flow known as time,” Acumen said, his gaze boring into Glade. “Worry not, I will return you to the correct place and time that will maximize success.”
Glade’s eyes narrowed. Acumen telling him not to worry was like sending up a warning flare declaring imminent danger. Of course he was going to worry! And what did he mean about maximizing success? Was Acumen implying he was going to help him free Vlad?
“What do you mean by maximizing success?” he asked carefully.
“Is that a formal request for information?” Acumen asked again.
Glade took a moment to breathe, really considered if he could get away with punching an Adjudicator.
“No,” he said through gritted teeth. “Just let me go.”
“You are the one who came into my domain,” Acumen reminded him, cocking his head at that annoyingly awkward angle again. “As such, I am not obligated to release you until you have gained sufficient insight befitting a Branded and a Namer who freely uses my name.”
Glade’s jaw dropped. Was that what this was about? That he had used Acumen’s name to help rank up a half dozen or so people in their skills? He knew that the Adjudicator probably wasn’t happy that Glade had learned his name outside of normal channels, but if that bothered the powerful being of Intellect then he should have thought of that before invading his mind back when he had first arrived through the rift! Seriously, how petty could he be?
“And what insight is that you wish to impart to me?” Glade snapped.
“Is that a formal request for information?” Acumen asked again.
“You know what? Sure. I’ll make that last question a formal request,” Glade said with a mocking laugh.
“For calling the name of Acumen upon entering my domain, I, the Adjudicator of Intellect, grant you the boon of insight,” Acumen said, his voice resonating throughout the pristine eternity of the white void.
Glade’s mouth snapped shut, mentally kicking himself for losing his temper.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” he muttered.
The world around him dissolved into countless motes of light.
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“What is intelligence?” Acumen’s voice sounded in his ear.
Glade ducked the swipe of a dagger, taking advantage of the momentary opening to lunge forward with his combat knife. The faceless man in homespun clothes tried to dodge but was a hair too late.
Glade felt the momentary resistance of his knife cutting through fabric and flesh alike as he slammed his weapon into the illusion’s gut. Without hesitation, he twisted the blade to increase the chances of a bleed out before tearing his weapon from this latest training dummy.
“Knowledge,” Glade growled, trying yet another possible response to Acumen’s annoyingly incessant question.
“Incorrect,” Acumen responded in that annoying tone of his. “Knowledge is simply a repository of information, whether that be a library, one’s brain, or tossed out with the other refuse you mortals collect and carelessly throw out. Anyone, no matter their station or ability, can gain knowledge. What I ask is that of intelligence.”
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
The illusion in front of Glade began to falter, the gut wound having already taken its toll. From the color of the blood running down the shirt, he assumed he had made a critical strike to the liver.
Congratulations! You have gained skill level 9 in Small Blades! 9% stamina reduction when using small blades. +9% damage when using small blades.
Congratulations! You have passed your rank advancement in Small Blades! You have ranked up from Amatuer to Trainee!
Note: Seeing as Acumen, the Adjudicator of Intellect, proctored your trial you have been granted the foundational understanding of Small Blade handling. All limitations of future growth have been removed. +10% increase in Small Blades skill growth through the Trainee ranks.
Glade wiped his knife clean on a spare bit of cloth before sliding it back into its sheath at his belt. He then collapsed heavily onto one of the many chairs surrounding the arena. He had been at this for what felt like hours, fighting a variety of faceless people until he either collapsed from exhaustion or had gained a skill level. Only then was he allowed to rest.
All the while, Acumen asked that same infuriating question Glade hadn’t been able to answer. That is, he wasn’t able to answer to the Adjudicator’s satisfaction. He had given plenty of solid answers up to this point!
“If knowledge isn’t the answer, then I have to say that intelligence is the gathering of knowledge,” Glade tried again, wiping the sweat from his face as he struggled to catch his breath.
“Incorrect,” Acumen said again. “Accumulation of knowledge, while a worthy goal and part of the intellectual journey, is not intelligence. It may be a sign of intelligence, but not intelligence in and of itself.”
Glade couldn’t see the Adjudicator anywhere inside the drab gray of the arena, but he could hear him as if he were standing right next to him.
“I will now pit you against a Trainee level construct. This will be an order of magnitude more difficult,” Acumen stated matter of factly as the arena around him warped into what looked like some sort of middle ages training yard in the middle of a forest, replete with weapons stands and sandy pit. “Worry not, the pain inflicted is only temporary. You cannot die within an area governed by my authority.”
“I really hate you, you know that, right?” Glade growled as he got to his feet.
There was no response. There didn’t have to be. Glade had been cursing the Adjudicator ever since they arrived in this unknown place. He had to admit the training he was experiencing was fantastic for his small blades skill. The hours of repetitive training while facing ever more talented fighters was something he wished he could do all the time. There was a reason why the previous prompt had said he had gained a foundational understanding of Small Blades handling. Acumen had exposed him to every dirty trick and scenario he could imagine. In fact, there had been more than one occasion when Glade had suffered from being on the receiving end of those attacks.
Still, Glade had been skilled enough to handle most of what the Amatuer ranks could throw at him. Trainee shouldn’t be that much more difficult.
An illusion of a faceless woman wearing a thin leather jerkin appeared before him. She was already in a ready stance, her blade out and ready.
“What is intelligence?” Acumen asked again at the same moment the woman lunged forward.
Glade parried, grabbing the woman’s leading arm with his free hand in a vice-like grip. He was about to pull her off balance when she let go of the blade with one hand and snatched it up in the other. In a flash, she carved into his forearm, severing the tendons in two lightning quick slashes.
His hand released its grip of its own accord, the pain and shock of having his arm sliced up so thoroughly caused him to stumble in surprise.
Acting on instinct, Glade fired off his psychic attack, mentally blasting the faceless woman.
Down she went, the prompt saying he had 190 seconds until she recovered.
Glade didn’t hesitate, launching himself at the woman with a scream of pain and rage. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be locked in this stupid cycle of fight after fight. He wanted to save Vlad!
The illusion vanished, replaced by another. This time, the woman had a ring on her finger that glowed with astral light.
“What is intelligence?” Acumen asked again.
Glade roared his frustration, triggering his psychic attack. He was done playing games. He wanted out. Now. If he had to employ his other skills to accomplish that, then so be it.
Warning! Weak Psychic attack failed due to protective charm!
Glade hesitated, blinking at the prompt.
His opponent didn’t.
In a flash, he felt the wicked edge of a dagger plunge first into his thigh, then his gut, and finally into his neck.
As he lay on the ground, the light fading from his eyes, he heard Acumen ask again. “What is intelligence?”
----------------------------------------
Glade stood across the field from another faceless woman. He had lost track how long he had been fighting, let alone how many times he had been killed trying to defend himself. At one point during this prolonged torture, Glade had even fired off random answers in the hope that one of them might have been right and Acumen could end this thinly masked excuse for torture. Each time, the answer came back the same.
Incorrect.
“What is intelligence?” Acumen asked again.
Glade had long since stopped rushing into these fights, warily circling his opponent as he looked for any weakness he might be able to exploit. As he did so, he pondered Acumen’s question. It had been a long while since he had even uttered a word. Instead, he let his mind relax, centering himself in the moment.
The woman leaned ever so slightly forward on the balls of her feet, broadcasting her intentions moments before she acted. In that space between breaths, Glade made his move. He lunged forward, catching her slightly off guard as he slapped her arm away with his free hand, following up with a lightning quick slash to the inside of her knife hand.
The woman dropped her blade, leaping back to put distance between them.
Glade had seen this before. The illusion wanted the space so she could draw a second blade.
He didn’t let her.
Following her retreating steps, Glade kept up the pressure, slashing at exposed limbs and body until he finally overcame her defenses.
Congratulations! You have gained skill level 17 in Small Blades! 17% stamina reduction when using small blades. +17% damage when using small blades.
Congratulations! You have passed your rank advancement in Small Blades! You have ranked up from Trainee to Apprentice!
Note: Seeing as Acumen, the Adjudicator of Intellect, proctored your trial you have been granted the foundational understanding of Small Blade handling. All limitations of future growth have been removed. +10% increase in Small Blades skill growth through the Apprentice ranks.
“What is intelligence?”
He ignored the question as he watched the arena fade around him, only to be replaced with a scene straight out of the grasslands. The tall grass went on for miles, exposing open skies and rolling hills.
Another illusion appeared, this one some sort of humanoid with the skin of a leopard. From the looks of things, it was male, and he was wearing flexible leather armor and was holding two long knives with the grace of one who had been born to wield such weapons.
Much to his surprise, Glade was holding two knives as well. The one in his off hand felt little more than a lead weight, his grip completely off. Before he could correct himself, the leopard man began circling him with the practiced gait of a predator stalking its prey.
“What is intelligence?” Acumen asked, the sound of the Adjudicator’s voice barely registering, having long since faded to the background of Glade’s awareness.
For several long seconds, they circled one another, until Glade finally relaxed, sheathing his knives.
“I’m not skilled enough to fight this person,” he said matter of factly, flexing his off hand. “I need more training.”
There was a long pause, but finally, Acumen replied.
“Correct.”
The world around him faded from view.