Blake opened his eyes to the harsh glare of the alien sun. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths, his skin tingling with residual energy. The metal beneath him had grown warm, but he barely noticed the heat. Blue text hovered at the edges of his vision, crisp and clear against the backdrop of twisted metal and debris.
[ You have experienced Gnosis. You have gained Experience. ]
[ You have gained a level! You are now level 1. ]
[ You have the opportunity to choose a Class. Would you like to proceed? Y/N]
The corner of his mouth lifted. His first level. After everything - the fighting, the running, the desperate scramble to survive - this moment felt earned. Real.
"Thank you." He spoke the words softly to Chimera. Just two syllables, but important to vocalize. He had held serious reservations about the creature, but her role in what Blake had just experienced was undeniable.
Chimera's avatar shimmered into view, a faint smile playing across her bestial features. "Don't go soft on me, old man."
Blake snorted. "I'm only forty-one. Eland is the old man. Besides, acknowledging someone's help isn't a weakness."
He shifted his weight, the metal creaking beneath him. "Walk me through this class selection. How does it work?"
"The first class choice offers significant freedom," Chimera said. "The System presents options aligned with your potential and innate qualities. Think of it as choosing your foundation - later evolutions become more restricted based on your accumulated Gnosis."
"So the first is the most open-ended?"
"Correct. Your experiences, your understanding, your very essence shapes what comes after. But this initial choice? This is yours to make, guided by your ideals rather than System constraints."
Blake rubbed his jaw. "And these later evolutions - they're determined by the System?"
"Not entirely. They reflect the path you've walked, the Gnosis you've accumulated. The System recognizes patterns in your growth, offering evolution options that align with your developed potential."
"You might have to walk me through what Gnosis is," Blake said. "I feel like I'm getting it from context, but the system prompt capitalized it like it was a big deal."
Chimera's form flickered, her avatar settling into a cross-legged position that mirrored Blake's. "Think of Gnosis as the essence of growth itself. Not just physical or mental development, but the sum of everything you are and everything you'll become."
Blake watched a piece of scrap metal tumble down a nearby pile. "Break it down further."
"When you face challenges, overcome obstacles, learn new skills - that creates experience. But Gnosis goes deeper. It's the understanding behind the experience. The wisdom gained. The legacy left behind."
"Legacy?" Blake's brow furrowed. "You mean what we leave after death?"
"Precisely. When someone dies, their accumulated experience disperses. Most returns to the One - the source of creation. But those nearby absorb a portion, gaining experience points." Chimera's form shimmered. "It's why killing threats grants experience. You're literally absorbing a fragment of their accumulated growth."
Blake's hand instinctively moved to his sidearm. "The scavengers I killed..."
"Should have added to your growth, yes. But quality matters more than quantity—and for both parties. A life lived extraordinarily, filled with meaningful achievements, contributes more than one spent in mediocrity. They were mediocre thugs, and the fight itself wasn't all that important or challenging to you personally. There was just nothing to gain."
"Depressing, when you spell it out like that," Blake responded. "So all this ties into the System somehow?"
"The System is part of the One. Every soul that returns to it strengthens the whole. Classes, skills, even the paths of cultivation - they're shaped by countless lives before yours." Chimera's eyes met his. "When you choose a class, you're not just picking abilities. You're connecting to a legacy of those who walked that path before."
Blake's throat tightened. The words "the One" and "source of creation" echoed in his mind, carrying implications he hadn't considered. His travels of the years had exposed him countless belief systems, each new place awash with regional variations on more widely held beliefs. The sheer scope of regionally-specific Christianity alone beggared the imagination. But this felt different.
His fingers drummed against his thigh. The System wasn't just some technological interface - it was tied to death, souls, and cosmic forces. He'd seen the magic firsthand, felt it coursing through his body. The evidence was undeniable.
"So this... One," Blake said, the words coming slow. "Are we talking about a god here?"
He thought of the various cults he'd encountered during his deployments. The true believers with their fervent eyes, the desperate followers seeking meaning, the manipulative leaders twisting faith for power. But none of them had demonstrated abilities like Eland's. None of them had symbiotic suits that could enhance human capabilities.
Blake rubbed his face. He'd accepted the nanites, the HUD, even the alien partnership without much philosophical debate. But now he was choosing a "Class" tied to some cosmic force that absorbed souls. The rational part of his mind wanted to reject it all, yet he could still feel the lingering energy from his earlier cultivation attempt tingling beneath his skin.
Chimera's features took on an almost academic cast. "I chose my words with care. The One isn't some deity sitting on a cosmic throne. It's a source. THE source. The only discernible pattern in its existence is the drive to accumulate Gnosis."
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
She gestured at the wreckage around them, her clawed hand sweeping through a shaft of sunlight. "There are countless religions out there, each with their own interpretation of these basic facts. Some call it God, others call it the Universe, still others see it as an endless cycle of rebirth. The narratives don't matter right now. What matters is understanding the fundamental truth - there is a source, it grows through Gnosis, and we can tap into that power through cultivation."
"Those who reach the pinnacle of cultivation achieve something extraordinary. Their accumulated Gnosis becomes potent enough to alter the fabric of reality itself. When they merge with the One, the ripples of their existence cascade across the universe. That kind of power - yes, it could be called god-like. But it's wielded by individuals who earned it through cultivation."
Blake's mouth went dry. The implications staggered him. "What kind of changes are we talking about? What have people actually done with that level of power?"
"Most find it easiest to work through Demiurge," Chimera said. "That's one of its primary functions - to impose structure and rules upon reality. All these intricate systems and subsystems you see? They didn't spring from nowhere. Each was crafted by Demigods wielding their accumulated Gnosis to reshape the universe."
Her avatar's eyes glowed brighter. "Even the Classes themselves came about this way. They were added to ensure everyone had access to at least basic cultivation. No one wanted to see others left defenseless, so they created a framework - a starting point that anyone could access."
Blake exhaled, tension draining from his shoulders. He could accept this. Internalize it. The System wasn't some mystical trap or alien cult - it was a tool, created by people who'd reached the peak of their potential. A framework built to help others climb the same mountain.
"Alright. Let's look at these classes."
"I can pull up the full list," Chimera said. Her avatar's expression shifted, a hint of eagerness breaking through her usual predatory features. "Though there is one that particularly stands out."
Blake raised an eyebrow. "You've got an opinion already?"
"I felt it when you experienced Gnosis." Chimera's form rippled like heat waves rising from desert sand. "I'm bound to your core now. What you feel, I feel - albeit to a lesser degree. Your revelations, your understanding, your growth - they're part of me too."
"That's... intimate." Blake scratched his chin, considering the implications.
"If you're interested in my recommendation-" Chimera's tail lashed behind her, betraying her enthusiasm.
"Let's hear it. The list isn't going anywhere."
"Okay," she said. "It's a little melodramatic, but most of them are. Here's my pick."
----------------------------------------
[ Roadwarden
Keeper of the Fragile Order
Where order meets chaos, where the light of civilization dims, there stands the Roadwarden. You've chosen to walk the boundary between barbarism and society, protecting not just lives but the very concept of civilization itself. Your strength flows from independence and conviction - no authority commands you save your own moral compass and your pledge to defend those who cannot defend themselves.
This path calls to those who:
Believe that civilization must be actively defended, not merely maintained
See themselves as the last line between order and chaos
Prefer to solve problems through observation and careful choice
Value the freedom to choose how best to face each challenge
Understand that sometimes violence is necessary to preserve peace
Are willing to bear the burden of hard choices made in solitude
You'll serve as guardian, mediator, and when necessary, warrior. Your power stems from versatility and judgment - knowing when to negotiate, when to protect, and when to strike. Each victory preserves not just lives, but the precious progress of civilization itself. ]
----------------------------------------
Blake studied the hovering text, each word resonating deeper than the last. Something stirred in his chest, a vibration so subtle he might have missed it a day ago. But after experiencing true Gnosis, after feeling the raw power of cultivation course through him, he recognized this gentle thrum for what it was - his Resonance responding to truth.
The sensation reminded him of his father's old acoustic bass, the way certain notes would make the strings of nearby instruments vibrate in sympathy. He'd always loved that effect, the way music could reach out and touch things that weren't even being played. This felt similar - as if the very concept of being a Roadwarden had reached out and plucked something deep within his spirit.
His eyes caught on certain phrases: "protecting not just lives but the very concept of civilization itself" and "the last line between order and chaos." The words should have felt grandiose, maybe even pretentious. Instead, they struck him as fundamental truths he'd always known but never properly articulated.
"You're being awfully quiet," Chimera said, her holographic form shifting closer. "Having second thoughts?"
Blake shook his head. "The opposite, actually." He gestured at the floating text. "This is exactly what I wanted to be when I enlisted. What I thought I'd become."
The admission carried weight, dragging other memories to the surface. Memories of compromises made in the name of necessity. Of orders followed despite moral objections. Of lines crossed that could never be uncrossed.
"The world's a dirty place," he continued, his voice rougher than before. "It has a way of staining everything it touches. Even the best intentions get twisted if you're not careful. And I wasn't always careful."
Chimera's tail curled around her translucent form. "The past shapes us, but it doesn't define us."
"No," Blake agreed. "It doesn't."
He stood, stretching muscles that had grown stiff from sitting. The alien sun cast long shadows across the scrapyard, turning twisted metal into abstract sculptures. In the distance, he could hear the rhythmic hum of Eland working to stabilize the ship's power core.
This moment felt significant. Like standing at a crossroads, every possible future stretching out before him. His hands had blood on them - would always have blood on them - but maybe that wasn't the curse he'd always assumed it to be. Maybe those stains were just the price of standing between civilization and chaos.
The young man who'd enlisted had wanted to protect people. To stand against evil. To make hard choices so others wouldn't have to. Somewhere along the way, that idealistic kid had gotten lost in the complexities of global politics and military necessity. But he wasn't gone completely. His ghost still lingered in Blake's chest, resonating with these words about protecting civilization itself.
Blake's jaw set in a hard line. He'd been given a second chance - not just at life, but at becoming something better. Something truer to that original calling. The System wasn't offering him power or redemption. It was offering him purpose.
His finger hovered over the 'Accept' prompt. "Sometimes the universe gives you exactly what you need," he muttered. "Even if that means getting vacuumed up by aliens, I guess."
Chimera's holographic ears twitched. "Technically, it wasn't a vacuum. It was more of a-"
"Not the point," Blake interrupted, but there was no heat in his voice. He felt calm. Centered. For the first time since waking up in this alien junkyard, he felt like he knew exactly what he was supposed to do.
The 'Accept' prompt glowed softly, waiting for his touch. Blake took a deep breath, savoring this moment of perfect clarity. He wasn't just choosing a class or accepting a power upgrade. None of that really meant anything.
He was making a commitment to become the person he should have been all along.
His finger pressed forward, and the world shifted.