Leonidas stepped into the spacious rounded chamber Celia led them to, and then departed from, with a mix of curiosity and what felt like now-habitual wariness. The interior was formed of plain white marble, with runes of power shimmering faintly across the circumference of the walls. The outward areas of the chamber seemed intentionally devoid of decoration, and instead only a single massive crystal—pulsing with prismatic light—dominated the center of the room.
It was placed on a dais, and seemed to radiate pure power even to Leonidas’ far reduced senses. His time on Elatra had made him hypersensitive to mana in some ways and he could tell, even if only loosely, that the artifact possessed a saturation and concentration of energy that would be equivalent to something like a modern fission reactor.
The fact it was just sitting there was bewildering, and only further increased his sense of wariness. The crystal ball located on a plinth in front of it only made him more concerned.
Though, in fairness, his path thus far made that wariness feel quite justified.
Since his return to Earth—Terra, he mentally reminded himself—and all the events that had followed, he’d been pulled from one point of change to another. Between meeting his family, losing that contact again, being taken captive by Tarnys, meeting Ceruviel, and then fighting in the Arena; the confluence of events within which he’d participated after returning were…
In a word, they were baffling.
The odds of him not only selecting the Affinity, but the Archetype, Ambition, and Aspect all required for him to become a member of an enigmatic ancient Order of warriors was low enough. The fact that exactly that combination, paired with his family’s meteoric ascent in fame, would additionally make him the ideal Apprentice to one of the most powerful combatants across the continental United States?
That, he felt, was just pure horseshit.
Something else was going on.
Whether it was someone stacking the deck while knowing him well enough to guess his choices, someone actively manipulating events—which he found far less likely, truthfully, given he felt no loss of agency—to play out a certain way, or simply the fact that he had lucked into everything in the most astronomically implausible demonstration of ‘may the odds be ever in your favor’ he’d encountered to date; Leonidas knew one thing for certain.
You really could not make this shit up.
“{Hello, Ceruviel.}”
Leonidas’ introspection was rudely cut short by the sound of a cultured female vibrato, and he snapped his gaze in the direction it had come from—in time to see a towering and athletic woman with skin the color of alabaster, and what appeared to be scales along the sides of her face descending down toward her exposed and generous bust.
Her body was covered in segmented armor plates that looked one part metal, and one part organic, and a decidedly reptilian tail snapped at the air around her while she made herself known to them. Her steps were sure and firm, and her eyes burned with molten gold heat, set upon black sclera beneath a sweeping curtain of blood-red hair.
The icing on the cake was the pair of horns, rising up from a face that looked deceptively young, and tantalizingly welcoming to the eye.
Naturally, his every instinct screamed ‘DANGER’.
“{Sinalthria.}” Ceruviel greeted the new arrival with a familiar warmth. “{I see you’re still preferring the dramatic entrance.}”
“{Oh please, Ceruviel. I don’t want to hear that from the ‘Duchess of Twilight’.}”
Both women laughed, and Leonidas looked between them with cautious apprehension. Of all the people and things he’d seen up until that moment, Sinalthria took the cake for both diversity of appearance and pure power. There was something about the woman’s presence, and the faint wash of passive heat that her approaching presence provided, which set Leonidas’ nerves on edge.
“{And whom is it you have brought to my lair, Ceruviel?}” Sinalthria asked with an air of predatory fascination. Her eyes settled on Leonidas fully when she spoke, and he felt himself break out in a cold sweat at her gaze. There was something about it he simply couldn’t explain, something that sent his hindbrain into a flight or fight reflex that saw him reaching—instinctively—for his [Cataclysm Core] to defend himself.
In the instant before he did, [Noble’s Resolve] burned to life.
He felt it more acutely, now that Ceruviel had explained its purpose to him.
It was like the stubborn refusal to bend the knee, the proud adherence to a leader’s comportment, and the unabashed avarice of desiring to rule and enforce one’s vision. It seared through him like a wave of reassuring heat, and flushed out the cold grip of fear that had assailed his heart.
The sweat remained, but Leonidas felt himself return to his own mind, as if something had momentarily—and quite elegantly—cast his self-control and self-assurance into the depths of the dark beyond between heartbeats.
The moment his steady self-control returned, he exhaled to release his tension.
When he did, Sinalthria’s presence suddenly changed.
In place of a primal and predatory ferocity, there came instead a mere ghost of the same. It was a lurking watchfulness, a wary intensity, and a permanent sense of potential calamity. Her presence vacillated between almost reassuring and one-mistake-from-wrathful, and Leonidas eyed the woman askance.
“{Well?}” Ceruviel asked with what Leonidas identified as smug satisfaction.
“{You truly did find someone extraordinary, didn’t you?}” Sinalthria said with her molten eyes focused entirely on Leonidas. “{Even under the full weight of my presence, he managed to master himself—and while still in the Formation stage, as well.}”
“{I want to register him immediately,}” the Duchess said without wasting time, “{and in private, lest his traits become too widely known.}”
“{Ah. You wish to veil his information? I wondered why you requested a direct meeting, though I had my suspicions. Very well, the Assessor is prepared.}”
“{The Assessor?}” Leonidas asked while looking between them. “{Also, while I appreciate the mysterious exchange, I would prefer not being spoken about like I am not right here in the room.}”
“{Strong-willed, too.}” Sinalthria said with a look of appraising approval. “{You have found yourself a perfect mirror.}”
“{He is a sheepdog in a world of wolves,}” Ceruviel said with a knowing look at Leonidas, who blinked at her in surprise. When had she…?
Ah. Of course. The Arena.
+{This is why you must learn to guard your thoughts.}+ Ceruviel said into his mind. +{Which you will be taught with all haste.}+
Leonidas simply nodded, and Sinalthria’s lips parted into a smile that showed off her pronounced canines. “{What a wonderful way of putting it. A sheepdog in a world of wolves. I find that most agreeable as a statement. Very well, Ceruviel; let us proceed with his Assessment.}”
Leonidas raised an eyebrow, and Sinalthria turned to him intently.
“{What shall I call you, child?}”
Given the woman didn’t look a day over thirty, Leonidas might have objected—if not for the fact Ceruviel was the same, and he knew his eccentric mentor was at least three centuries old or more.
“{For the purpose of the guild, I will go by ‘Ace’.}”
“{A flair for the dramatic too, I see.}” Sinalthria said with a resonant laugh. “{You truly are well-matched to the Duchess. Very well, ‘Ace’, follow me. We will begin your assessment.}”
Sinalthria turned away when she spoke and moved immediately for the pulsing mana crystal, with Ceruviel striding purposefully behind her. Leonidas hesitated for only a moment and then stepped forward to accompany both women. The runes along the room shimmered and flared when he moved, and Leonidas caught the distinct feeling that they were actively adjusting to him, as if his movements and moods were directly correlating to their shifting natures.
When the trio reached the massive crystal, he felt a pulse of energy radiate throughout the room, and it seemed centered on the crystal itself.
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Sinalthria pulled his attention before he could dwell on it further.
“{This is the Assessor. There are more convoluted and complicated names for it, but I prefer simplicity where needed. All you have to do is place your hand on the crystal ball tethered to its power, and the Assessor will rate your potential.}”
“{What does that mean?}” Leonidas asked while stepping closer to the seemingly innocuous sphere, and raising his naked palm over it hesitantly. “{Is it some sort of—}”
“{It would be far easier to simply show you.}” Sinalthria interrupted firmly. “{So make haste. For all that I am giddy at my friend’s acquisition, I am a busy woman, and doing this test privately is not a luxury I should strictly be indulging.}”
Ceruviel snorted softly, but didn’t gainsay the woman, and Leonidas grimaced.
It was easy to forget that he was still a very small fish in a new and massive world, and that what was happening to him were as much a part of that on-going function as they were part of his, for lack of a better term, ‘story’. Of course the Guild Mistress was busy. Very likely, she’d have not looked at him twice if not for his mentor.
So, Leonidas cast aside his questions, and simply did as she asked.
He placed his hand upon the crystal ball.
Ironic that my potential will be discerned by a charlatan’s prop piece.
The moment his flesh touched the glass, the interior of the orb lit up with a rainbow spread of light, and he felt a sudden pull on his nascent [Cataclysm Core]. Leonidas’ brows furrowed, and although the feeling wasn’t actually painful, he felt a notable level of discomfort from the intensity of it.
“{Now then, let’s see what the Assessor thinks of you…}” Sinalthria said with what seemed like genuine interest.
Leonidas looked at the woman, and then to Ceruviel, and then up at the crystal. When he did, he saw that it had started to shiver and change, and its internal luminescence was trending toward a deep magenta, combined with a swirling scarlet. While he watched, the magenta seemed to erode slightly, and crackles of crimson lightning began to ripple within the translucent interior of the immense crystal.
From there, the storm within it seemed to build—and the crackles turned to outright bolts of power. The Assessor seemed to vibrate, to Leonidas’ eyes, and the scarlet energy within took on the aspect of storm clouds mixed with a whirlpool, and the edges of the Assessor seemed to tremble as if under the influence of an earthquake.
Flames, blood-red and violent, licked across the edges of the inner translucence—and Leonidas momentarily lost himself in the radical, terrifying beauty of his Cataclysm Mana manifested so fully within the magical object. There was a kind of hypnotizing ominousness in the way in which his power made itself clear, and even with the shot-through magenta coloring that populated areas of the interior, the bloody scarlet of his Cataclysm Mana dominated all.
“{Is that normal?}” Ceruviel asked abruptly and interrupted Leonidas’ admittedly vain admiration of his own mana. “{I’ve never seen such a…}”
“{No.}” Sinalthria said in a tone that was suddenly very much more focused. “{That is most assuredly not normal. His Affinity is Psi, I saw that clearly, and yet it is being overridden by something.}”
The Guild Mistress turned to Leonidas and stepped closer to him, while peering up into his eyes. As close as she was, her gaze seemed to blaze with power when she looked at him.
“{Do you not have a Psionic Core, child?}”
Leonidas hesitated at her question, glanced at Ceruviel, and then grimaced.
“{I do not.}” He admitted.
Ceruviel’s eyes widened fractionally, and she observed him with critical eyes. There was no disappointment in her stare, though; and instead there seemed to be something between wariness and approval burning in her purple gaze, as if she were seeing him—and understanding him—a little more clearly, and with a greater sense of clarity for his value.
At least, that’s what it felt like to Leonidas.
Truthfully, she could have been wondering how best to murder him.
“{Not a Psionic Core. Fascinating. This—}” Sinalthria turned and gestured a long-nailed hand at the Assessor “{—is like nothing I have ever seen. Fire Cores burn orange, and while they are known for being wild, this makes them look tame. Lightning and Thunder Cores flare with blues and whites, and while they crackle too, this makes those storms seem like pretenders. Blood Cores, as rare and impressive as they are, shine Crimson—but they do so with aquatic characteristics and mixtures of Shadow Affinity. This…}”
“{What is it, Sinalthria?}” Ceruviel asked with a hint of her usual impatience. “{You’re being dramatic again.}”
“{I am not,}” the Guild Mistress objected, though Leonidas noticed a small blush—despite the circumstances—staining her pale cheeks. “{This is unprecedented, Ceruviel. Look at the energy in the Assessor! It writhes and rages, like a barely-contained typhoon of raw and primordial fury. It sings to me, in ways that I have not felt since my birth. There is destruction here, yes, but so too is there cleansing. This power… it ripples through my bones. It is like the condensed force of a natural disaster.}”
Leonidas felt himself go cold, and looked between the two women with a rising sense of anxiety. Something about the sudden shift in demeanor told him to keep his mouth solidly shut, and that’s exactly what he did. There was a tension, suddenly, that only a fool wouldn’t notice—and it extended immediately between the two women.
Each of whom, he was candidly aware, could break him like a twig.
“{What is your Core called, child?}” Sinalthria asked him finally, and looked back at him with feverish intensity. “{I must know its name. I must!}”
“{I—}”
“{It is a secret he wishes to keep,}” Ceruviel cut in suddenly, while appearing at his other side. “{I gave him my word that he could do so, Sinalthria. Until he is ready to divulge the information, I swore I would not pry—and thus, neither can you.}”
“{But Ceruviel! The power that he has is—}”
“{We have been friends for centuries, Sinalthria.}” Ceruviel cut across the other woman tersely. “{You knew my master, and I knew your sire. I am asking you, for me; do not press this matter. I promised him my discretion. I will enforce that promise if I must.}”
“{You cannot be serious, Ceruviel! This discovery is—}”
“{Sinalthria.}”
The Guild Mistress and Duchess stared at each other for a long moment, and finally the former relented with a curse. When she did, she stepped back and folded her arms under her bust with what Leonidas could have sworn was a pout. “{Fine, Ceruviel. For you, and only for you. This once, in my magnanimity, I shall not pry—but! The moment, and I mean the moment he reveals the truth, you must tell me!}”
“{I believe I can agree with that,}” Ceruviel said with what Leonidas thought was a relieved smile. “{Now, what is the Assessor’s verdict?}”
Sinalthria looked back to the crystal, and with a mutter, her nailed fingers flicked the air.
When they did, a series of ratings filled the air in golden lettering.
Assessment Results — Level 8, Formation Stage Core
Power — B+
Speed — C+
Defense — B+
Mind — A-
Growth — S+
Potential — S+
Projected Final Level — 90+
Leonidas found himself staring up at the assessment with a growing sense of trepidation and even a measure of relief. The results looked good, and he found that he could take some measure of satisfaction from the Assessor’s projections. He had hoped he’d be able to reach Ninth Tier, and based on what the Assessor was saying, it believed he could as well.
A smile of relief washed over him, and he looked at Ceruviel and Sinalthria.
When he turned back to them, however, he found both women staring at him gravely.
“{...what?}” he asked with genuine confusion.
“{You have an S-rated growth assessment, Ace.}” Sinalthria said with a tone of seriousness that immediately made him pay attention. “{The average, even among our most promising Adventurers, is a C at the very best. Ceruviel and I both managed to scrape B minus, and we were considered prodigies.}”
The Duchess nodded gravely at Sinalthria’s words, and fixed Leonidas with an intense and analytical stare.
“{As suspiciously insane as it is, Squire, you have managed to break every known record within the Guild’s lore. There was only one other person, in eons past, that was thought to have equal potential power to your own.}”
“{But they are a myth, and little known about. Even their gender is forgotten,}” Sinalthria said dismissively. “{What you’ve managed to demonstrate here, however…}”
“{I think it is safe to say you will be granted a license, Achilles.}” Ceruviel said, and Leonidas noted that Sinalthria perked up at the use of the name, though she didn’t comment. “{But there is still a formality that must be followed.}”
“{Indeed. The trials!}” Sinalthria said with a gleeful look. “{We have one about to start in, oh, ten minutes as a matter of fact!}”
“{Perfect,} Ceruviel said with a smile. “{You will participate in that, without anyone knowing you are my Squire. It will be useful, too, in helping you find a party.}”
“{This all feels a little rushed—}” Leonidas started to say, before being ushered backward by Ceruviel, while Sinalthria turned back to the Assessor thoughtfully.
“{Yes yes, you have reservations. I have heard it all before, Achilles. For now, focus on triumph during the trials—and from there, we will discuss what comes next. Come.}”
“{What about my license?}” he asked with a grunt of annoyance.
“{Win the trials first,}” Ceruviel said with a smirk, “{and then you can have your validation token.}”
Leonidas sighed in resignation.
It really was just one of those days.
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Sinalthria Rough Concept Art