Mosh wondered at the words of the kolb, at what they implied, but he had no time to do more than wonder. Mosh felt suddenly nervous, his arms going limp, but Fulan took his hands, covering for him, hiding Mosh’s nervousness. Mosh felt his hand enter the box, the drop in temperature, and waited. Mosh knew it took time, but how much varied, and no one spoke of what they experienced, stating that the descent forbade it, only that which could be normally inferred was allowed.
Mosh stood there, his hand warming up within the box as what felt like threads fell upon his hands. He felt them penetrate, dig into his skin. Just pressure, no pain, but a definite feeling of something flowing into him. Mosh felt it flowing through him, his limbs heating up first, followed by his torso, groin, and finally his head. As the warmth enveloped Mosh’s head, a voice spoke, not through his ears, but directly into his mind.
Body pathways mapped. Mind pathways mapped. Mana pathways mapped. Other potentials being determined.
A pause, then the voice continued.
Body index, Tier 3. Mind index, Tier 3. Mana index, Tier 4; Soul Index, Tier 5; Evolution Potential, Tier 10; Shaping Potential, Tier 8.
Again, a pause, and Mosh felt flustered and extremely excited and happy! He had expected some form of communication with the mysterious mana entities that governed the descent, a disembodied voice being almost expected and one of his less fanciful speculations. Nothing surprising about the existence of the three indices of Body, Mind, and Mana; these being part of the common knowledge taught in every school. What else was taught was that in the old world, pre-Mileu intervention, all three would have been at Tier 0, merely what nature endowed without any reinforcement from mana. The average descent is usually a Tier 2; having just one at Tier 3 was a cause for celebration. Two at Tier 3 and one at Tier 4 was amazing, and he could not wait to see what his class options would be. What flustered him were the last three measures. Soul index, evolution, and Shaping potential. They were new, not something discussed in school, though he thought he had read something about a Soul index, but it was rare, and very little was known or taught about it. Shaping and Evolution were not even hinted at by the school, his teachers, parents, or any of the family that had undergone descent. And not just new terms, but one at Tier 10 and the other at Tier 8. How many people on earth had anything at Tier 10 level? His thoughts were interrupted as the voice started again.
Core Class Evaluation Complete. You are offered four based on your measured tiers. Select one to set your starting direction in life.
A physical-based class that utilizes mana to adapt and strengthen the body. Good for physical occupations. Body-based powers and skills emphasized. Chi abilities available. Good synchronicity with shaping potential in crafting and biotransforming.Notification: Lottery eligibility determined. Due to the evolution potential of Tier 10 and shaping potential at Tier 8, you are selected for the lottery. Candidate should bear in mind when selecting a class that they will be in the Crucible and need to survive and fight to grow and thrive.
Notification: Scores in Body, Mind, Mana, and Soul may be disclosed. Potential in Shaping may be disclosed. Class choices and details may be disclosed. Chosen class may be disclosed. Dissemination of the existence of Evolution potential is forbidden and punishable.
Notification: Disclosure of the existence of evolution potential punishable with immediate burnout of chi, mana, and psi, depending on capabilities, and mind isolation. The punished will be completely cut off from the world. Destruction of all potential to experience and process external stimuli of any description, be it with mana, psi, chi, or normal sensory stimuli. Their body will be wracked with pain. The punishment period will be one hundred years. After the punishment period, senses and the ability to process will be returned. All energy processing of any form will be restored.
Mosh read the note and felt his knees go weak; a hissed “NO!” came out from his lips, and he felt the hands of Fulan, who held him up. He felt something warm drip onto his face and saw the tear-filled eyes of Fulan.
Fulan whispered, “Choose for survivability. We are working to rescue all those stolen from us.”
Mosh thought he nodded; perhaps he hadn't; he didn’t really know, and with that he chose the last of the four choices, the
He felt the box pulse; he could feel himself change. He stood up, turning to face his family, not with the smile and laugh he had hoped he would bear as he announced his descent but with a choking cry of “The lottery!”
Initially the hall fell silent, a silence quickly broken by angry shouts and by sobs from some of those present, including his parents. Toddlers started wailing, not knowing why but picking up on the atmosphere. He felt the twins grabbing onto his legs, snuggling their faces into him even while not understanding what was meant. They knew something was wrong; they knew he was in trouble, and they were doing what they could to comfort him.
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Strangely enough, Mosh did feel better from them, but also from the pandemonium in the hall. He felt himself ensconced within the love of his family, a feeling he would soon be torn from, not knowing when he could return. The celebration was forgotten; no one could celebrate now. Fulan stood there, facing his parents, turning to address all in the hall.
“We share your anger. We share your grief.” He paused, not catching anyone’s eyes as he continued. “As you know, Mosh will return home with you and be taken into the Game in seven days.” Fulan turned to Mosh, looking into his eyes. “However strong the urge to run, do not do it. You cannot escape; the Mileu Council is too powerful. They will find you, and if you have run, you will still be forced into the Game, but naked and with one limb broken as punishment. They will show their so-called mercy by giving you a healing potion that will come active after an hour.” Fulan could not stop the bitterness entering his voice, “We know of only two that have survived the hour and have been able to drink the potion.”
“Why?” Mosh shouted out he had nothing to lose. He had been selected by the lottery; he was going into the game. “Why do you do this? Clearly you hate them, so how can you work for them, wear their uniform, wear their emblem?”
Fulan lowered his head, breaking his contact with Mosh’s eyes. “Why, because if those of us who hate them did not work for them and try to thwart them when we can, we would be replaced by the weak, by the traitors, and things would be worse.” He paused, “Is it just an excuse? Do we try to paint our collaboration as a high endeavor while being traitors? It is something we debate amongst ourselves. We comfort ourselves; we tell ourselves, Better us than those who would be true collaborators.”
The family filed out. No one even thinking of celebrating. The hall holders came out, holding the invoice for the event, with the amount changed to zero and an indication that the deposit would be refunded.
“We support your family. We are as one. Choose what you want done with the food. Do you want it sent to your home?”
Mosh’s father shook his head. “Find others that are out in public, those without the means to celebrate. Let them celebrate!” The hall manager bowed his head to Mosh’s father and turned to Mosh. “May you survive, may you thrive, may you return to us! We are always your family!”
From the back of the hall, a corresponding chant appeared; all the staff within the hall, from waiters to cooks to janitors, had lined up, their voices resounding together. “May you survive, may you thrive, may you return to us! We are always your family!” Species did not matter; all of those from Earth were viewed as one.
The family exited the hall into a mass of people gathered before them. Silence across them all. They saw the other celebration halls coming out, their participants silent, joining the masses. They parted as the family exited and declared as one as Mosh exited. “May you survive, may you thrive, may you return to us! We are always your family!” The family passed through a clear pathway for them to walk through, the respectful silence of the crowd, and a muted sob from the crowd as someone could be heard saying, “That is Mosh, from school!”
Exiting the spire, the scene was repeated, the news that one within had been selected for the lottery having spread. All stood in silence, their path to the bus, there despite only being ordered for much later, clear and lined with those showing support. As Mosh stepped forward, flanked by his parents, the chant was taken up, repeated until he was no longer in sight.
The family had not said anything, merely wrapped Mosh in a cocoon of love and support. Each coming to hug him, to let him know that they were there, and no matter what, he was always family.
***
Arbiter Zak sat at his desk, going through his normal paperwork. Surprisingly, there had been a response to his missive about the growing discontent in the lottery race subject to judgement GH90876907-FDE8978. Unsurprisingly, it was short, curt, and changed nothing. Merely a reiteration that speaking of the Crucible to the lottery race was forbidden. That discussing the purpose of the Crucible was forbidden. That revealing the need for a Crucible-evolved magistrate for a world to be allowed citizenship was forbidden. As usual, no explanation for the ruling, just a statement of fact. Though it did agree that culling the leaders was to be held in abeyance subject to further observation. Zak did not understand why the information was restricted; surely clear hope, no matter how far into the future, would be useful and change nothing. Truly he did not understand the need for secrecy, but he would obey. One always obeyed the elders.
A knock at his door pulled him from his reverie, and he called out for whomever might be there to enter. He frowned as Kai’Rop entered, knowing that it would be something important.
Kai’Rop came forward, bowing, “My lord Arbiter, we have a new issue with the lottery world of judgement GH90876907-FDE8978.”
Zak leaned back into his chair, his vestigial wing numbs slotting comfortably into the grooves cut for them in his chair. “Has the rebellion progressed so fast? Has our leniency in ignoring their discontent resulted in failure so early?”
“No, Arbiter. Though in a way it is worse.” Kai’Rop paused, clearly needing to bring his transformation under control as briefly his draconic shape showed. “The Great Mileu has broken a contract. The lottery has been chosen, but one who should not have been selected was.” He fell silent, passing across a crystal.
Zak held it, a brief flaring of mana causing it to light up, Mosh’s visage showing. “So, this youth is an issue? What agreement was broken in his selection?” He fell silent; another mana flare and text scrolled beneath, causing some very position-inappropriate language to be uttered. “By the seven concubines and twelve catamites, this world has only had three centuries of mana, and this has been born? Let me see if I recall the agreement. None in the top ten of the tiers at awakening should be included in the lottery to prevent exactly what we feared would happen if we culled the leaders, them accusing us of stripping them of those that could grow and elevate them. And now the lottery system removes someone with a tier five and a tier four awakening stat, never mind the Tier 8 Shaping?” More swearing, and he finally calmed himself. “Tier 10 evolution potential? Clearly this individual should have been excluded! What reason did the mana world elders give for breaking the contract? That is not meant to be possible; it should be sealed and bound.
“Arbiter, they cited the tier ten evolution and tier eight shaping, stating that either one on their own would be close to allowing a breaking of the agreement, but combined, they cannot see any other path for him but in the crucible.”
Another burst of swearing came out from Zak, and finally he managed to curtail his frustration. “I shall need to visit this planet, Earth. Prepare for me to leave, and I must be there before he is sent into the Crucible. How long do I have before then?”
“Arbiter, he will enter in two of our days, seven of his local days. I will prepare everything for your trip so you can leave for there early in the morning. It may be uncomfortable; there is no active platform to the planet yet, so you will need to travel by a void jumper.
Zak shuddered but bowed to the inevitable. He would go home, explain to Rophel, and get ready for the diplomatic fallout from this debacle. The residents of Earth already didn’t trust them. They already saw them as trying to suppress them and their growth. This would not help, a broken contract adding fuel to the impression of their lack of honor. He would do his best, but who knew if that would have any effect?