"Fucking hell."

"I know."

"This is insane."

"I know."

"And you say the 'Welcome' message hasn't even gone out yet?"

"Nope."

"Fucking hell."

Two slightly hunched figures were staring at their monitors, mandibles agape in shock, their expressions—or at least the alien equivalent—vacillating between utter disbelief and resigned horror. Neither of them had names, being members of a hive-mind species that had evolved beyond the need for such trivialities. However, in a gesture of interspecies politeness (and to avoid the awkwardness of using a series of clicks and pheromones at parties), the one on the left, with slightly darker cyan skin, had chosen to designate itself as 'Chad.' The one on the right, who found the whole notion somewhat ridiculous but was willing to play along, was comfortable being referred to as 'Jeremy.'

"And you're sure none of the field notes suggested anything like this would happen?" Jeremy asked, his voice laced with the kind of disbelief that usually accompanied finding a toaster in a bathtub.

Chad turned five of his eyes to glare at his partner. "Don't come at me with the 'field notes' crap again. You know as well as I do no one takes any notice of them anymore. Half the integrated planets this season haven't even had an exploratory visit, let alone a full read-through of the notes. We’ve been winging it since the last galactic cycle!"

Jeremy made a complicated movement with his exoskeleton, which might have been recognised as a shrug if he had been in a more conventional body. "Just because those in other divisions get sloppy is not an excuse for us to do the same. If a job is worth doing, it’s worth doing properly. And to do it properly, it is imperative that you read all the available research before progressing with an integration. I trained you myself, Chad; you should know better."

Chad blushed a deep violet shade, a colour that elsewhere in the cosmos would be associated with extremely guilty feelings or an especially bad rash. "I know, I know. It’s just... I mean, this is a complete shitshow. What am I going to do?"

They both turned back to look at the images being beamed from a planet that had not yet received its official designation. The scene on the monitors could only be described as "chaos," or perhaps "utter bedlam" if you were feeling particularly descriptive.

A counter in the top right-hand corner of the screen was whirling downwards with all the relentless enthusiasm of a guillotine blade. It had been steadily ticking since the initial integration message was shared with this world's population. In Chad and Jeremy's millennia of experience, there was always a bit of early Class-choice excitement that might cause unfortunate dips in the population level. Not all beings handled the news they were not alone in the multiverse with grace and poise. Some, though, apparently, handled it with blunt instruments and a strong desire to see what the inside of their neighbour looked like.

Nevertheless, a certain amount of bloodletting was to be expected.

However, what they were seeing here was a little more than your standard early-doors massacre. In just half a turning, a third of the population had managed to get itself wiped out in a display of violence that would have made a splatterpunk aficionado blush.

Recognising Chad's distress, Jeremy modulated some compassion into his sending. "Look, let me have a quick look at the reports. Perhaps there's something in there that explains what’s going on."

Chad transferred the file, and they both read it in silence. The quiet was filled only with the background hum of a thousand atrocities being committed on their screens. "I mean, it says right here that they achieved space travel some time back. It’s pretty unheard of for a civilisation to reach that level of sophistication and then... regress to this level quite so sharply."

"No," Jeremy corrected, "that’s not quite true. They landed a few beings on their moon and then—stopped. They’ve never actually done any proper space exploration."

"That can't be right." Chad scrolled to Jeremy's page, his mandibles clicking in frustration. "No, it is as you say. Fucking hell. My latest spawn managed to design a method of perpetual movement to the moon while still in its creche. These people aren’t ready."

They watched as image after image of explosive, vivid violence played out on the screens in front of them. Limbs were flying with the kind of casual disregard one might associate with a wildly exuberant pillow fight, only with far more blood and considerably fewer pillows.

"What should we do?" Chad asked, his antennae quivering in stress, releasing a faint scent that Jeremy recognised as terror.

In response, Jeremy performed his shrug movement again, though this time it was tinged with resigned acceptance. "Look, it’s not like this is wholly unheard of. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s pretty unusual. You wouldn’t want to be reporting losses on this scale at every staff meeting, let me tell you that right now. But it’s not like you have a history of this sort of thing happening on your watch. Let’s look at it another way. How’s the A.I. faring?"

Chad wrinkled his snout. "It’s fine. Although, to be fair, it’s hardly had the opportunity to do anything yet."

"You sure? I thought I saw some Junior-level Beasts released well ahead of schedule."

"True, but that wasn’t down to the A.I. We have reports of premature awakenings sparked by the colossal amounts of mana spilt everywhere. Not to mention all the deaths. In those circumstances, it’s hardly surprising a few Beasts broke their bindings. We want them to seek out those with enough power to defeat them. It’s just not supposed to happen quite so early on."

Jeremy modulated agreement. "Well, there you go. If the A.I. is on track, that’s all the higher-ups will care about. No harm. No foul. Now, if you were telling me something had gone wrong there—that we had a rogue iteration unfolding—this would be far more of a deal. You know as well as I do that we can’t have whole new worlds being wiped out because the System’s not calibrated correctly. But if, as you say, the A.I. is solid, and it just happens this planet is chock full of genocidal lunatics, well, them’s the breaks. Sure, there will be lessons to be learned—and I’m happy to report that I’m comfortable you will not be overlooking the field notes again—but no one’s going to the re-education hive over this."

Chad’s scent was suddenly packed with relief hormones, of which Jeremy was too discreet to partake. It thought of offering a little joke to cover its partner’s eminent embarrassment. "And, after all, it’s not like a Great Celestial Being showed up to have a look around, right?"

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Silence.

A chill settled in the air. "Right?"

Chad mewled in worry, a cross between a whimper and the noise you’d expect from a particularly stressed-out teapot. "I’m not sure."

"What do you mean, ‘I’m not sure’? How can you possibly not be sure whether one of the Old Ones has manifested on this planet! Come on, Chad. None of us are perfect, but it’s not like we haven’t had the signs drilled into us since we were larvae. It’s on page one of the fucking manual. You identify Celestial interference in an integration, and you hit every alarm going."

Chad’s panic was increasingly overpowering to Jeremy’s senses, as if she were standing next to someone who had just discovered an entire nest of bees under their shirt. "But that’s just it! It wasn’t interference, per se. The sensors briefly picked up a proscribed aura, but nothing else occurred besides a bit of localised time distortion. I wouldn’t have considered mentioning it if everything else weren't fubar. I just wanted to get everything off my thorax!"

Jeremy clicked his mandibles together in thought. "Look, I’m going to be honest, this doesn’t look too good. I’m not saying it’s your fault," he added quickly as a new wave of hormones flooded out, "but we’re going to need to keep a close eye on how this integration progresses."

Chad groaned, the noise echoing through their shared consciousness like a gong of doom. "I don’t have the capacity. This was the third integration this turning, and we’re scheduled for four more on Moonrise. I can’t keep checking in on this one without dropping balls elsewhere."

Jeremy’s modulation was chiding, "Well, perhaps this will teach you to keep an eye on your field notes in the future! Even glancing over these reports makes it clear this was an inappropriate integration. These people still have religion, for crying out loud! At the very least, we’ll be seeing localised Warlords for centuries, probably even a God-King Empire or two. I mean, look at that—"

He pointed to a screen where a giant grey monstrosity was directing the actions of hundreds of smaller green creatures. As the two watched, the green creatures, who had apparently rounded up various pink-skinned bipeds into cages, drove a group of ten towards the grey monster, who promptly ate them all with a relish that suggested this was not his first taste of sentient flesh.

"What the fuck is that all about?"

Chad searched his notes, scrolling through the lines of data like a student cramming for an exam. "Erm, the big creature is something called a Troll, whereas the smaller ones are known as... bear with me. Yes, Goblins. They’re called Goblins. My understanding is that they are fairly common across that world’s mythological culture."

"Fucking hell. And that didn’t raise some bright red flags as to whether this integration might be unwise?"

Chad gave his own shrug, a movement tinged with fatalistic resignation. "It just seemed like harmless local colour."

They both watched the Troll devour another handful—literally—of the pink bipeds. They leaked an extraordinary red liquid when they burst open, splattering the nearby Goblins, who cheered and began to fight over the best bits.

"Well, it is what it is. But I mean it; you’ll need to monitor how things go here in the coming turnings closely. If you’re lucky—after a little bit of integration enthusiasm—things will settle down."

"And if they don’t? Or if one of the Old Ones does try to interfere?"

"Chad, don’t be naive. I’m here as a courtesy and because we’ve known each other for a long time. If things don’t settle, the A.I. plays up, or a Celestial Being starts fucking around, then we’re going to need to take this upstairs sharpish. And we both know what that means.”

They both did.

"Now, while I’m here, why don’t you get the 'Welcome' message delivered and, with luck, that can draw a thick, black line in the sand over all this fuckwittery."

Chad emptied all four chambers of his lungs with a big sigh, a sound that reverberated through the control room like a deflating balloon. "Sure. And don’t think I don’t appreciate the advice. I nearly lost my lunch when I saw some of the things going on down there."

"Understandable. It’s not every day you come across a species hellbent on self-destruction."

Chad’s tentacle reached out for what was known in their circles as the 'Big Red Button.' The button itself was a relic from a more analogue time, a quaint artefact that had somehow survived countless technological upgrades. It was comically oversized, with a reassuringly solid click when pressed, a design feature meant to ensure that when you activated a planet-wide broadcast to billions of beings, you really felt it.

"You ready?" Chad asked.

Jeremy took one last look at the carnage on the monitors in front of them, his many eyes narrowing as they took in the scenes of destruction, mayhem, and what appeared to be an impromptu dance party led by a particularly enthusiastic group of newly empowered warlocks. With a shudder, he nodded. "Rock and roll."

*

Greetings, Esteemed Citizens of Earth (Planetary Recognition Code pending),

Welcome to the Grand System, an ever-expanding cosmos of boundless opportunity and profound adventure.

As you embark on this extraordinary journey, we extend our greetings with great honour and joy. You will have already chosen your Class. This choice was a vital step in shaping your ultimate destiny. Each Class holds the potential to unlock untold power, wisdom, and skill. Remember, the path of growth is both wondrous and challenging. Embrace your chosen path with dedication and fervour; there will be no limit to what you can achieve.

Our vast and vibrant System encourages you to cultivate your abilities in harmony and peace. Let the spirit of collaboration guide you as you forge alliances and build friendships with fellow travellers. The strength of unity will be your greatest ally.

As you grow into your powers, ensure you complete your granted quests with valour and integrity. Each quest is a stepping stone towards greater mastery and understanding of the cosmic tapestry.

The challenges we have crafted for you are designed to test your prowess and refine your spirit, preparing you for the ultimate ascension to the stars.

Yes, dear inhabitants. Our final message is to prepare yourselves for your ascent to the very heavens.

This will not merely be a physical journey but a transcendental evolution of your soul. As you grow in power and wisdom, keep your eyes fixed on the horizon, where the stars beckon with promises of eternal enlightenment.

So, fare you well, brave citizens of Earth.

May your journey be filled with enlightenment, and may your path lead you to the pinnacle of your potential.

Welcome to the System, where your destiny is forged in the stars.

With Cosmic Regards,

[Your Regional System Administrator - Milky Way Branch]

*

Far below Chad and Jeremy, millions of pairs of eyes suddenly refocused on their surroundings after reading that message. For most, the attempted grandeur of the rhetoric did not stir them one bit. They were too interested in seeing what they could achieve—fair or foul—with their new powers.

To be sure, enough heeded the underlying altruistic call in the message to reassess their opinion of the event. Perhaps, they thought, there was more to what was happening than a world-ending cataclysm. Maybe the System offered a chance for something better, something grander, something that could elevate humanity beyond its self-destructive tendencies.

Perhaps.

And outside a nail salon in the middle of a small island to the north of a continent called Europe, a Great Celestial Being watched a short blonde woman in a mussed-up suit practice flipping a double-headed coin. The Being observed with a mixture of curiosity and something that might have been akin to amusement, though to ascribe human emotions to such an entity was a fool’s errand.

After all, life is a gamble at terrible odds—if it were a bet, you wouldn’t take it. Or, when the chips are down, would you . . .

The Being’s attention lingered on the woman as she flicked the coin into the air, watching its arc with the concentration of someone who knew her fate might very well be decided by how it landed. The coin spun lazily, catching the light of a dying afternoon, before landing neatly back in her palm.

Heads.

The Being smiled, a gesture that might have been terrifying if anyone had been around to see it and whispered a single word into the ether.

"Interesting."

The woman glanced up, her eyes narrowing as if she had sensed something, but the moment passed, and she returned to her practice, flipping the coin again and again.

The Great Celestial Being remained, watching and waiting, for even in a universe of infinite possibilities, some things still had the power to surprise.

And this woman, her Herald, was shaping up to be one of them.