The Void Lord Qversenesia explained that the Legion Walker was one of the many variations of different dimensions. “Legion walkers are commonly descended from void walkers. It’s a hybrid class. But you’re different. You have pure Legion blood. Show me your status.”
So he did. He couldn’t read her expression, and there was a lengthy pause between them.
“You only have 1 vitality and 1 agility.”
“Can’t help it. I only started playing yesterday.”
She stood agape. “We need to increase your vitality as much as you can. You’ll need it. Legion Walkers use arcane, but there are some notable exceptions. Especially since you’re under Lothar’s Sin.
“Legion Lords don’t use arcane. They use their vitality. We’ll need to unlock the fundamental skill before you set out. Um. Where is it?” She ran over to the bookshelves, dragging a stair in one hand. “I’m certain I have records of Legion Lords and eidolons here somewhere.”
“Your Serenity,” Colm said. “There is one issue we still must address.”
“Yes?”
“I only have a limited time here before I have to rest. We’re looking at, realistically, 5 hours, but if I don’t sleep I can extend that to 16 hours.”
“That will be fine,” she said, looking at him. “Your world and my world isn’t so separated. I’m certain that if you engage in some physical activity, it will affect your physique here. And you’ll have your private room. I know how paranoid players are when they’re sleeping.” She added, “If you’re referring to your lengthy absence, I was aware of that before I had you. Um. Borrowed by force.”
Colm smiled. He limped over to the libraries of bookshelves, putting one foot and then cane on the other, wondering if these books were pre-generated or written by AIs. It was all very intriguing. “What are we looking for?”
“A poorly titled book called: observations and habits of legion lords. If I recall correctly, it’s written by a void walker named John Reiss.”
He paused. “A player?”
“Yes, it was written around 150 years ago. He was one of the first void walkers that stumbled through the nether realm. I heard he died in your world. My mother told me it was some sort of chariot-racing accident when he drove too fast and lost control over his steed and fell off a cliff.”
“That was a long time ago,” he said, kneeling and taking out books. “You take stupid risks, you win stupid prizes. It’s better to lie low, not attract danger, don’t be where you’re not supposed to be.”
The Void Lord sighed as she looked up. “I have never been outside this palace. I’ve never explored the void or drove a chariot or a horse. Falling off a cliff, which looks stupid is very attractive to me. Childish thoughts. Let us move on.”
It reminded Colm of the many times he dreamed of surfing antigravity boards again. Plowing through the traffic, jumping from one construction site to another, and losing time watching the sun set on the horizon.
“I wouldn’t say it’s childish,” he said. “I have a sister whose dreams consisted of throwing out her teachers from the balcony of a fourth-floor building.”
“Such savagery!” She grinned. “You have a sister?”
“Younger sister. And next to her a brother, and then six-year old twins.” He smiled.
“I assume you’re the eldest,” she said.
“Unfortunately.”
“I’m an only child, so I envy you with great passion.”
Colm laughed. “I envy you,” he said. “In another matter, I’m uncertain if I’ll be much of an aid with a missing lower leg. Do you have a solution for it?”
“I do. But the book first—ah. Here it is.” It was a small book, probably not thicker than a hundred pages. She flipped through it, until she found the page, and she continued. “It details a Legion Walker’s initiation rites, but I’ll spare you the unnecessary points. It’s coming back to me now. Take a seat.” Still staring at the book, she grabbed a goblet and a knife with the other hand. “Anything in particular you like? Weapons, magic, spells, do you prefer to be aggressive or defensive? Are you calculative, or do you go by the feel of things and improvise from there?”
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“Can you explain?”
“Well—it says here that what you sacrifice is relevant to skills you’ll acquire. We’ll fill the goblet with your blood and place the sacrifices next to it while we wait. It’s not the precise translation, it involved something more gory and unsettling like sacrificing your third wife, or your eldest son, but I have notes here where I’ve broken it down to the bare essentials. Oh, now I’m thirsty. Are you sure you aren’t parched?”
“I’ll drink a cup of water later. It’ll require me to log off.”
“Yes, the body possession,” she giggled, then took a sip. “If souls can travel between worlds, saving my mother isn’t out of the question.”
She stood up, took the entire flask and another goblet, and placed it on the table. Colm thought about his sacrifices. He played with the cane, rubbing his thumb against the spider on the handle. “How did you know your mother’s still alive?”
“Because resurrecting souls is within the realm of possibility. You players are one such evidence. My handmaiden told me so.”
“Handmaiden?”
Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door, and the guard announced: “Lady Ametha Korsuna wishes for an audience, Your Serenity.”
“Oh, shut it,” the female voice said, pushing the door open and letting herself in. She bowed slightly, and rather casually too. “Your Serenity.”
“Ametha!” The Void Lord jolted from her seat and pulled onto the woman. “She’s my handmaiden. Come, Ametha. Take a seat. I’ve yet to introduce you to Colm.”
He observed he. The woman Ametha was as tall as Qversenesia, with red flames of short bob hair and sharp eyes. Her posture was immaculate, and she seemed more proper than the Void Lord herself.
“Let’s suspend the introductions, Your Serenity. I’ll be brief,” the woman glanced at Colm. “Is he the surviving player? We clearly commanded them to bring over six, and now we have a cursed cripple.” To him, “I meant no offense, player. I’ll see if I can secure the corpses of your companions before Solades gets ahold of it.”
Colm shrugged.
“Your Serenity, if I may.” The handmaiden gently pulled the Qversenesia to the door. “Bring it in.”
Colm watched as a cart was pushed inside. In it, he saw something very familiar.
“An antigravity board,” the Void Lord gasped. “Ametha, you never disappoint. What do you want for this?”
“Nothing at all, Your Serenity,” she said, smiling. “I thought it prudent to deliver the papers with the gift.”
She passed several papers, to which Qversenesia briefly glanced over, walked to her desk and wore round glasses. She read it carefully.
“Colm, is it?” The handmaiden said.
He stood up with effort and bowed. “Nice to meet you, Lady Ametha.”
“Too casual,” she said. “Find me if you’re interested in grunt work.” She stared at his foot. “If you can overcome your disability.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Qversenesia spoke up. “You’ll postpone construction of the left wing? Why?”
The handmaiden turned to her. “We’re losing funds. I need more manpower if we want to finish the theatre and other such facilities, Your Serenity. It is, and I’m embarrassed to admit, quite lavish.”
“We’ll find a way to allocate funds, I’m certain,” she said. “But don’t stop right in the middle. This is what you’ve always wanted isn’t, Ametha? I’ll be the one to suffer withholding an unfinished building for you. Talk to Solades,”—she then pricked her thumb, pressed it onto the paper, and signed it with a fountain pen. “He will want to see my approval.”
The handmaiden cleared her throat. “With all due respect, Your Serenity, you are the Void Lord. I’m certain you don’t need his approval, if at all. Your will is everything.”
“He’s my advisor,” she reasoned. “And my mother’s trusted subject. I can’t dismiss his authority.”
The handmaiden didn’t look pleased at that. “Very well,” she said, took the papers, and promptly left with a bow. “Your Serenity.”
Once she was gone, Qversenesia was turning the anti-grav board with wonder. While she was distracted, Colm was reading her notes on the book, but his mind was elsewhere. The construction of a “lavish” theatre intrigued him.
He shook it off his mind.
After reading the notes, he grabbed the knife and cut open his palm, letting his blood drip inside the goblet. “Am I doing this right?” he asked.
“Hm? Oh. Yes. I apologize, I’m a bit distracted. Did you choose your sacrifices?”
“I did.” He placed the cane on the table. “I read an interesting section in the book. It says there to meditate on your sacrifices and let the emotion flow through you. It made me think if it’s even necessary to have the sacrifices in the first place, or it only acts as a conduit.” He stared at the cane. “And it’s not like I have anything here that’s mine except for an antigravity board. You want to pass it over here?”
“No! You’ll have to kill me first. ” She placed the board on her desk, far away from him.
He laughed at that.
Something shifted in the cup. He didn’t expect it to happen quite fast.
Skill Available: (Passive) Eidolon. Accept? Warning: once you accept this skill, you cannot undo it. Warning: eidolon is a fundamental skill. You will be limited to eidolon-specialized skills.
“It’s here,” he said. “It says Eidolon. Passive. It’s not offering any info on what an eidolon is.”
“Accept it. That’s what we want. They’re companions to Legion Walkers, and they’re very specialized in what skills you can unlock. We’ll be able to pass through legion portals to the nether unscathed. See, Colm? I can be generous. Be loyal to me, and I’ll make sure you’re rewarded handsomely.”
Colm only gave a nod.
Skill Unlocked: (Passive) Eidolon
Blood spilled out from the goblet like tendrils, wrapping itself around the spider handle of the cane. And when the blood retreated, the handle was gone, leaving only a slightly tinged gold-red of spider.
It stood on eight legs, staring up at Colm. It squeaked.