Clint walked along the wall with quick steps, acting like he belonged. He hadn't seen any signs or anything indicating that he wasn't allowed on it, but he'd rather not put it to the test. And, even if he wasn't, he doubted anyone would bother to conjure up the effort to make him leave, with the evolving situation below eating up their attention as long as he stayed out of the way.

He stopped perhaps 75 feet to the left of where the main defensive effort congregated above the gate.

The monsters, four-legged like giant turtles, with earthen shells and all manners of plant matter growing wildly across their bodies, lumbered after the trade caravan. The largest of the earthen beasts would occasionally slow to raise boulders of stone from the earth through some magical means, which it would then send rocketing toward the caravan with a flick of its tail. It generally had poor aim, but some of the boulders did come close to landing, only to be blocked by conjured barriers of ice by a woman who stood on top of a wagon. She fired back a largely ineffective series of attacks at the monsters to slow them down, though visibly, even from a distance, she was tiring quickly.

The Terragos–he was moderately sure that was their name–weren't particularly fast-moving, but due to their large size, they could cover a great deal of distance quickly. The important bit, since all speed was ultimately relative, was that they were considerably faster than the caravan. From the looks of it, they'd catch the back end of the caravan well before they reached the gate. The top bit of the caravan, which pulled away faster than the others, was due to reach the gate in a minute, maybe two.

Clint sat down on the wall, his feet hanging from it. He looked down at the thirty-foot drop. Even if he wanted to help–which there was a part of him that did–there wasn't a damn thing he could do. Even with his [Role], he was still weak; he'd be crushed like a bug if he tried anything.

He glanced back at the defensive effort. Uniformed men angled a pair of cannons, trying to get a clear shot, waiting for the Terragos to fall into range, and others rushed down the stairs to the bottom of the gate with melee weapons. It seemed to be a coordinated effort, though; some individuals who stood on the wall, waiting for some unseen cue, like the man with a hammer, fell outside the chain of command. They were here of their own accord, for their own purposes.

Some of the uniformed men on the wall aimed rudimentary lever action rifles at the beasts, but it was unclear, at least to Clint, what they expected a bullet to do to a monster made partially of stone. A man carrying a bow and a quiver full of strange metallic arrows squatted on the wall, ordering around the uniformed men. It was also unclear to Clint what the hell the man thought an arrow would accomplish either. That was unless he had a [Role]–the equalizing factor that could make a simple arrow more dangerous than a bomb.

He had been so used to going through life as an Unawakened that it hadn’t immediately occurred to him that now that he had unlocked his [Role], he also could view the [Roles] of others. He wasn’t quite sure how–the people he had asked in the past had said that all you needed to do was look at them with a desire to see, and you would. The explanation was a bit light on the details for his taste, but there was no harm in trying.

He stared at the archer for a moment, and sure enough, his [Status] appeared, an extremely simplified but similar version of what he had seen of his own.

[Archer - Silver]

All the page showed was a black ink picture of an [Archer] in a forest and the range in which his Level could have fallen–him being a Silver meant he had overcome the bottleneck at Level 10 and had advanced his [Role]. The information was paltry but useful.

Thankfully, he suspected he had a way of seeing more. [Semblance]’s Skill description had implied, if not outright stated, that it would allow him to view information that would otherwise not be readily available as long as it was not “Guarded.”

He didn't know the exact definition of Guarded, but he guessed since the man was acting in an official capacity as the leader of the wall's defense force, his [Status] would be Unguarded to allow himself to be identified more easily. At least, that was the hope.

He closed his eyes and focused on the desire to activate [Semblance]. To his surprise, there was a faint resistance that he was able to push through–as if he was moving a weight with his mind or, perhaps more accurately, his willpower, then almost faster than he could track, something drained from the very center of his being, leaving a murky icelike sensation along his skin for a fraction of a second.

Congratulations! Semblance has reached Level 1.

Immediately, he felt drained, like he had just run a mile, maybe two. He was never the overly athletic sort so it didn’t make much difference. Point was, it was draining in a way he had never experienced before. Though he couldn’t complain overly much, as the sensation faded quickly, leaving just a dull ache.

Like a layer of sand had been removed from a book buried deep in the desert, more words revealed themselves on the page.

[Arcane Archer - Level 17]

The captain of the wall looks east.

To be honest, he had expected more information from the Skill, though he guessed he would need to raise it to a higher level first before he could reasonably expect that. However, despite the lack of usable information, he wasn't disappointed, for he had learned two things from his first use of [Semblance], one good and one bad.

First, the good news. [Semblance] had Leveled after only a single use, something that, while not too uncommon because of its extremely low Level, was usually any indicator of talent or previous experience in a related field.

On the other hand, the bad news was that he had no clue what the hell the single-sentence poem-type thing the System had included was supposed to mean. It had to be important, or else he doubted the System wouldn't have included it. But he didn't have much to go off of without seeing more of them first.

While keeping an eye on the proceedings below, in case the defensive force was overwhelmed and he had to turn and run, he used [Semblance] again, this time on the man he had followed to the wall.

[Stonebreaker - Level 8]

Nevermore will geodes fall from the sky.

Traits: Tough II, ?,?...

His reading was interrupted as the [Arcane Archer]–the caption of the wall–rose to his feet and hollered out, "On my mark."

Blue lines of light trailed his forefingers as he notched a metal arrow, its shaft elongating and twisting in upon itself in a crackle of magic. Blue veins of crystalline energy sprouted in runic patterns along the arrow, generating an aura of power that kicked up the wind around him. As the arrow looked like it was on the edge of collapsing in on itself, and as the front edge of the caravan reached the gate, he released the arrow. It cut through the sky like a comet, leaving a crackling trail behind it as it speared into the ground between the three monsters that pursued the caravan. Some part of it shattered–he wasn't sure which–triggering a large dome of blue flame to explode out of it, knocking the monsters off their feet and setting two on fire.

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Taking that as their cue, the man with a hammer and a few other eclectically dressed adventurers leaped off the wall and charged toward the Terragos, leading them away from the wagons where the cannons could freely fire upon them.

Clint watched closely, enraptured, noting their every move. Time passed in a heart-pounding blur, only interrupted by the cannons firing off a salvo that left his ears ringing. He glanced toward them, but his attention was stolen by a glimpse of a girl he saw through the chaos. She wore a white scarf and a wide-brimmed hat made of straw rested over her black hair.

She sat with her legs dangling off the edge of the wall, scribbling something in a small notebook. A split second later, she disappeared from view behind the press of bodies that rushed back and forth above the gate.

One of the Terragos loudly crashed to the ground, dead, sparking his attention back to the battle. In the end, though it took multiple salvos of cannon fire, the combined forces of the guards and the adventurers managed to finish off the beasts without any casualties. Now that the fighting was over, Clint looked back toward the section of the wall on the other side of the gate where he had seen the girl. She was no longer there.

The bell stopped ringing as he watched as the fighters scavenged across the battlefield, breaking down the dead monsters so that they could be disposed of more easily. The man with the hammer pulled a chunk of green crystal out of one of the monster's chests. He looked happy, raising it to the air with a fist-pumping motion. Those around him said something, but he couldn't make out exactly what because of the distance. They looked vaguely envious. The [Stonecrusher] said something in reply, and then the looks of envy disappeared as they all began to laugh.

Clint eavesdropped on two of the guards who remained atop the gate as they talked.

“You think it’ll get worse?”

“That’s what they say.”

“Well, I say that we just close the damn gate till the end of the month. It’s not like anyone will be out there traveling anyways.”

“If they closed the gate, we wouldn’t have a job.”

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t mind that. Those damn Terragos get too damn aggressive when the Blood Moon comes about.”

Restless, unable to sit upon the wall for any longer without stray thoughts emerging from the depths of his psyche and eager to test out the limits of [A Stranger In A Strange Land], Clint picked himself up and set off back toward the center of Greenway. "Good work today," he said with an official-looking nod, his hands clasped behind his back as he passed the two guards by the gate.

One looked confused momentarily before the other elbowed him, forcing him to join him as he saluted toward Clint.

Clint nodded once more, then walked away.

“Who was that?”

"He looked like Sergeant Helios," the guard said, not sounding very certain but not wanting to admit that he wasn't sure.

“Who’s that?”

“Man, what the hell. Don’t you know anything?”

“Ya, I know there’s too damn many sergeants for me to memorize!”

He listened to them bicker till they fell out of earshot, following the wagons as they rolled into town, noting the location, placement, and numbers of their security details with a critical eye, memorizing the information. Faintly, he felt a stirring in his chest. Or rather, it would be more accurate to say his soul, as there was no exact physical location on his body that corresponded to the sensation as his [Role] responded to what they were saying. Acting on instinct, he used [Semblance], letting the current that built in his soul guide its usage.

His [Status] appeared, the letters upon it slowly shifting till it displayed him as an entirely new person. Like last time, cold energy drained from his core. Though this time, he could track its course for a fraction of a second longer. It seemed that with each use, his perception of the mysterious energy that most would call mana increased. Whatever infinitesimal increase he had experienced, however, wasn’t enough to perceive the energy while it wasn’t in use, as it quickly faded from his senses.

Congratulations! Semblance has reached Level 2.

[Commander Of The Wall - Lvl 13]

Identity: Sergeant Helios (3)

Traits: [Man Of Many Names]

Strength: 6

Constitution: 6

Agility: 4

Perception: 7

Endurance: 4

Dexterity: 6

Skills: Semblance Lvl 2/25

The change in Identity had netted him a single point increase in Strength and Endurance. Which undoubtedly wasn't the entirety of the gap between Clint and the Sergeant. At Level 13, it could be reasonably assumed that all his Stats would be well into the double digits. Clint guessed that the reason he didn't manage to copy all his Stats, or his Traits, and Skills for that matter was because there wasn't a large amount of belief behind his Identity as Sergeant Helios. Even the two guards on the wall didn't fully believe that he was, one of them just making up a lie to sound smarter than the other.

From the System’s story, it had made it seem like Identities slowly grew in strength as the lies around them grew as well. It would be unreasonable to expect to just snap his fingers and be massively more powerful without any setup. Though maybe as [A Stranger in a Strange Land] gained Levels, the boost he gained from swapping Identities would grow larger? He wasn't sure.

He glanced back to the wall, now a good distance away. The two guards he had passed nervously listened to a man with a fancier uniform than the rest as he yelled at them, reprimanding them for something. The man paused in his tirade, and then the two guards pointed toward Clint. The higher-ranking officer stared at him from a distance, tilting his head. Clint waved back briefly before slipping into the crowd, disappearing from sight behind a wagon, then cutting into an alley.

"You idiots, that's not Sergeant Helios!" the man yelled so loudly that he could hear it over the hustle and bustle of the trade caravan. Faintly, he felt something distinctly fragile crumble in his chest. His [Status] flickered, and soon, his Identity as Sergeant Helios disappeared from the page, leaving him as just Clint Abner.

Clint kept his pace, putting additional distance between him and the wall. It wasn't like he had done anything wrong. He had done nothing more than congratulate the guards on their performance. They had been the ones to start the rumor that he was a high-ranking member of the Watch. Really, the only thing he could get in trouble for was the false name–impersonation in that way, though uncommon, was usually treated as a serious crime, but he doubted the guards would have been able to see his [Status] from that distance. [Status] reading was an ability that had a limited range–even those who had a knack for it couldn't read [Status]'s from more than a hundred feet away.

Finally, after he had walked down several back roads, and he was certain no one was pursuing him, he stopped, back in the market he had first come from. He nodded to himself, noting the limitation upon his [Role]'s abilities. If someone–like the military official on the wall–recognized him as not who he claimed to be, his Identity would crumble in on itself if sufficiently weak and unfounded. Well, that part was an assumption. For now, all he could say for certain was that his false identities were fragile.

Clint stopped by a street vendor and bought a kebab of some sort of smoked meat–he didn't ask what type, though he had never seen anything that looked quite like it before. He took a bite out of it. It tasted like chicken. After complimenting the gregarious and eccentric owner's cooking ability, he departed and wandered through the streets he had read and fantasized about for so long, a far-off, almost disorientated feeling sitting in his heart. He took things slow, gawking at the sights like a tourist as he searched for something. He felt no need to rush. He was on vacation, after all. He chuckled to himself, a note of irony in his tone.

Before long, he found what he was looking for. He grinned as he stepped into a run-down building, shadows falling unnaturally along its exterior.