Juniper remembered the face of that man on the TV so clearly. There was no emotion. It was like he was dealing with ants, creatures so far beneath his notice that their deaths were meaningless.
She remembered the skeletons that killed her best friend on the way home from school. She remembered one of them slicing off her father’s hand and foot, and him barely surviving thanks to quick thinking from her mother.
She remembered huddling in groups as it dawned on them that this was real life. That modernity was destroyed, technology vanished. They were back to the law of the jungle.
She remembered her parent’s faces of joy, and her own, when her brother came back to them. Her brother was strong, unlike the rest of them. He had killed many of the monsters on his own. He was the only one that stood up to the tyrant that took over their small community with the lucky Skills he got.
She remembered that as the ugly monsters of the Pathfinder AI faded, human monsters remained. Their tiny subregion ping-ponged back and forth between freeholds. They were slaves to whomever held onto power for more than a second.
Ryan wanted to fight back. But he was too weak. They all were too weak. This world was unfair. The tyrants got lucky, she knew. They weren’t better than anyone else. They weren’t more worthy. They killed a few monsters at the beginning and then it all compounded from there.
Their parents were the ones that were furthest behind, especially Juniper’s dad. Because of his missing dominant hand and foot, he couldn’t fight. Even her mother, who was the most nonviolent and non-athletic person she had ever met, had risen to the occasion and leveled up through hunting the weaker monsters and beasts. There were rumors of some disabled people finding other methods to power, but Juniper’s dad wasn’t one of them.
When they heard about the Northeast Order Freehold, whose borders were only two hundred miles away, that became their salvation. Especially for her dad. It was like Shangri-La to them. A mythical place where people lived without the threat of constant violence.
Under the cover of darkness, they made out, fleeing the southern powers that were bleeding soldiers in an everlasting war for supremacy in the region.
Juniper used her nature-related Skills and Dao Inspiration to hide them from monsters and beasts and humans alike. The northeastern freeholds were more organized and larger, so they had cleared more of the threats, but they weren’t perfect. There were many close calls as they journeyed north.
It took two days of travel. Two days were they were always looking over their shoulder, worried about death looming around every corner. Yet they made it.
Their story was not uncommon. Thousands of families, groups, and individuals had heard through the grapevine that there was a place that wasn’t a hotbed of murder and robbery. When you had lost all other hope, why not risk it all?
Juniper understood that they had gotten very lucky. Most of the people who started that trek had died along the way, falling prey to the monsters, inhuman and human, that roamed every street and forest.
Once they arrived, they were sent to the capital like everyone else. They had to register as citizens and anyone above a certain level was drafted into their army. Juniper watched her brother with tears in her eyes. They had just made it to safety, and he was already going back in. He kissed her forehead and told her that everything would be alright.
And it was. Ryan’s talents weren’t as useful on the battlefield, but he joined the Information Branch under a scary-looking man named Caren Locasta. She couldn’t explain it, but he gave her a chill along the back of her neck, like he was a deadly force that could kill her any second. Ryan insisted that he was a really nice guy, so she let go of her first impressions.
Because of her brother’s position, which kept rising as he proved himself useful with his ability to see from the eyes of insects, their station kept improving. They got to move close to the center of the capital, with apartments that had modern-esque amenities.
Her mother and father had all but forgotten their time in the mud. It was easy to forget, when times were good.
Juniper got it. Like many people, they didn’t want to remember what humanity was capable of. What the universe was capable of. It was easier to forget, to drink and party.
But Juniper did not pretend to forget. When she saw the fifth wave of [Armageddon], she knew what she had to do.
Wave 5: The Tutorial
Some of you might have been wondering why there was no tutorial for the initiation. For millions of years within the Final Frontier Empire, newly initiated worlds DID receive a tutorial. However, this program was cut during the reign of the 11th Fell Emperor, Kan Hyphas Laketor, citing the high expense for little gain.
However, thanks to the fifth wave of [Armageddon], you now have the chance to experience The Tutorial in all its glory.
While the leaders and elites of polities represent the majority of their strength, the importance of the average citizen is often understated. An empire built on weak foundations will find it difficult to stand the test of time. As such, The Tutorial will only be provided to those below the top 1,000 on FX-14752’s rankings.
When this prompt ends, all 569,123,856 humans fitting the criteria will be transported to a physical demiplane to undergo a specialized, month-long version of The Tutorial. The difficulty will be increased to an appropriate level from the base version.
Many of you have been riding on the coattails of the elite. This is not acceptable. The mortality rates of The Tutorial will heavily depend on how prepared the average citizen of your freeholds is. Previous trials have had between 5.1 and 95.9% mortality rates, showing how much it depends on your own personal strength.
Those that thrive in The Tutorial will experience massive gains in strength, and be able to stand toe-to-toe with many of the current elites. Those that merely survive will still see gains.
The top 1,000 will be pitted together in a Swiss-style tournament of competitive challenges, with playoffs for the top 8. Contribution Score will be awarded thusly to both the elites and the tutorial takers.
[Armageddon] features a special rule regarding Contribution Score and the sixth wave. Unless there is smaller than a 5% margin of difference in Contribution between the two highest freehold owners, the scores at the end of The Tutorial shall be used for determining the Global Mayor.
The sixth wave, Armageddon, will then only be used to test the population one last time. However, if there is a 5% or smaller margin of difference, then a special trial will be held for both parties to settle the winner, who will then receive the Global Mayorship.
Let The Tutorial begin!
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“Baba, I can get you someone to help you,” Alistair pleaded for what felt like the hundredth time. It was probably close to that, despite not getting to his father very often. “You’re blind. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“Nonsense,” his father said. “Haven’t you forgotten I’m a cultivator? I’m sturdy as an oak.”
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“I’m not worried about you falling,” Alistair said, shaking his head. He was finishing up making one of the side dishes for their dinner, sweet potatoes with caramelized sugar. “You can’t get around the house. Your Class is so restrictive.”
“I don’t mind. My son is the most important man on the planet. That is all I need.”
“That’s not even relate—ah, whatever. No aide it is.” Alistair knew better than to argue with his father.
Evangeline poked his shoulder. “The guests are hungry. Almost done?”
“You can’t rush culinary genius,” Alistair shot back. “But yes, just a minute.”
The fifth wave was the one that Alistair had been dreading the most. After the third and fourth waves, he was expecting something crazy, a finisher that would be utterly devastating.
The Tutorial did not fit his expectations, yet it was almost worse. For almost all of humanity, he could do nothing. Nothing except the institutions he had already created. The People’s Legion would still have the majority of its captains. That there were such complex systems in placed helped him cope, but also worried him.
Where would the Northeast Freehold’s people fall on that gradient the text of the Quest described? In some ways, by protecting everyone, even the weakest people, he might be increasing the death rates. But he also provided cultivation resources far more freely than others might have. He had no way of knowing if the Imperial Army formations would be applicable within The Tutorial.
On the outside, the tournament was easy. The Devil Kings didn’t get to participate, or maybe they had their own tournament. The matches were staggered so that they were every other day, the last week allocated for the top eight matches.
Just in the next few days would be the conclusion of the fifth wave, something that Alistair could hardly believe. Things were flying by way too fast. But he was looking forward to the conclusion of the top four.
After the ten swiss rounds, the top eight in order were Alistair, Pharaoh, Alexandra, Bartholomew, Brigid, Whimsy, and Oliver. The rest of the top eight were 9-1, with Alistair being the only undefeated member.
The tournament matches were things like who could escape a specialized designed prison the fastest, or who could accumulate the most kills when faced with an endless horde of zombies. There was environmental trickery like who could scale a mountain of machinery the quickest, or the most powerful punch.
Over all ten rounds, the types of challenges balanced out so that no cultivator’s singular path was favored. Still, an all-rounder like Alistair benefited greatly from the variety.
Alistair was looking forward to who would join him in the finals. He had eliminated Pharaoh in his own semifinal match, which had the two of them fight to defeat a nigh-unkillalbe vampiric troll the fastest.
On the other side of the bracket were Bartholomew and Alexandra. He was holding out hope for his first friend to win, but the betting market was heavily favoring the Supersoldier. Alexandra had squeaked by a win in the quarterfinals against Oliver, who was also an underdog, leading to her poor odds.
No one died, and no one got permanently injured. It felt like a mockery, considering all the chaos that was surely taking place on The Tutorial side of things.
The Pathfinder AI, the Final Frontier Empire, they couldn’t be content with devastating Earth ten times over, they had to make some ironic statement about power. Separating the elites from the general population to “teach a lesson.” What lesson?
Alistair couldn’t stop thinking about his brief moment with River Flowing Towards An End. Was it the Sublimed Machine that stole the spirit’s dignity? What crime did his people commit against the faction that stood atop the Dao of Technology, if their writings were to be believed?
The Final Frontier Empire’s “lesson” was cut from the same cloth. Their ways were not Alistair’s way. River was right about one thing. Alistair would need a lot of power. Power to shake the pillars of creation.
Alistair almost got scalding oil over his hands as he flinched in surprise. Not that it would have burned him. “Yes?”
“No need to be so jumpy, Alistair,” Alexandra said, punching his shoulder. “The sweet potato’s done. You’re going to burn it.”
“Ah, my bad.” Alistair turned off the stove and put his dish on a plate, bringing it to the table of ravenous guests.
What was supposed to be a family dinner of his baba, Evangeline, and himself ballooned in size. Oliver had never found his relatives, so he had nowhere to go. John wasn’t his normal self with Donna and Tamia in pressing danger.
Alistair was ashamed of himself that he had forgotten about his friends. Nathan and Tommy, and his ex-girlfriend. None of them were in the top thousand, so they were in The Tutorial as well.
Somewhere along the way, Pharaoh and Whimsy got invited, then Caren tagged along, with Bark-Al and Melody. Jason, the giant with Cthonic ancestry, was off partying. Alistair was somewhat surprised that they had all made it to the top a thousand, but it made sense.
Caren was one of Alistair’s closest allies and wielded considerable power and influence on his own. His three closest friends were lifted by the rising tide.
After Bark-Al and Melody weaseled their way into the family dinner, Alistair set a hard limit. No more—ten was more than good enough.
They made an overabundant amount of food for all the cultivators who would use this chance to devour anything edible. Of course, Alistair prided himself on his cooking and, together with his family, they made some damn good Shandong cuisine.
As everyone dug into their food, the barriers came down. Now that he considered it, he was the only linking factor between everyone at the table. But even though his family didn’t know Caren’s group, and Oliver didn’t know Pharaoh very well, everything worked out.
They laughed, and they ate. They shared their stories.
“I don’t know where I came from,” Bark-Al said without a trace of emotion. “Perhaps someplace with a lot of sun. My bark is fairly dark.”
The tree-man definitely didn’t mean that as a joke, but he got laughs anyway.
“I’m not as high-leveled as all you human folk. Trees grow slowly. But we don’t stop growing. One day, I’ll be as big as the Earth.”
“May we rest under you shade?” Pharaoh asked. “I think I would like that.”
“My branches are open to all my friends,” Bark-Al said, showing a rare smile. “Pharaoh, I now consider you a friend. Therefore, I will welcome you with a willing trunk.”
Whimsy clapped. “Friendship. What a beautiful thing.”
“Alistair, how did we become friends?” Alexandra asked innocently. “You were punching people and I called you out on your shit technique, isn’t that right?”
“I recall you being a spoiled rich girl who was failing law school. Wouldn’t be surprised if you paid off your opponent in that ‘semi-pro’ MMA match.”
“I was not failing,” Alexandra retorted. “I have no idea where you got that idea from, and that match was totally legit.”
“MMA?” John asked. “I would have thought that would be Alistair’s thing, given his abilities.”
“No, I picked that up over time,” Alistair said. “But my time in the Holy Ravine cemented it.”
Alistair gave the summary of his time with the Silver Comet Sect. He explained the politics, the weird quirks like their acceptance of dragonborn empires as nothing out of the ordinary, and the people. He missed Pike and Izalia and Master Ko Pao.
Over a few hours, the conversation and plates dwindled down. Caren and his group were the first to go, then Pharaoh and Whimsy. Oliver and John excused themselves not long after, and finally, it was the three Tans.
“It’s time now, right, baba?” Alistair asked.
“It is time,” he agreed.
Alistair arranged for a Teleportation Circle straight to the site, so that his father didn’t have any issues. They chose the highest hill within the capital borders, a grassy knoll that was fitting for a grave.
They would never find his mother’s body. His father had kept a photograph of her in his wallet, which they copied. Evangeline burned some of incense and money with a Skill. It was just the three of them.
Alistair lowered the picture into the grave. It was her and her husband on the day of their wedding. She was beautiful, a memory forever trapped within the confines of the photograph and within his father’s heart. Most of the people in the background were dead.
His father didn’t even know the protocols for what to do when the deceased’s body was unrecoverable. They stuck to the tradition, turning away from the grave.
They threw handfuls of dirt into the little hole Alistair made. He was barely holding on, the deluge of emotions that he had bottled up since the first time he heard the news ready to be released.
His father was the last to throw. “Liyuan,” he whispered softly. He said some more words, but it wasn’t Alistair’s place to listen.
Evangeline began to sob. Alistair might have joined her, he wasn’t really sure. The experience was a blur. He remembered coming back, full of a numb sadness that didn't want to end.
“I’m sure she was a good woman,” Dev’rox said. “Everything is changeable, everything appears and disappears; there is no blissful peace until one passes beyond the agony of life and death.”
“Dhammapada,” Alistair murmured, recognizing the quote from a Buddhist text. “This is one of the strongest Dao archetypes there is, then, for an exact saying to be reproduced.”
“Stop thinking so much and rest.”
“I can’t,” Alistair said. “Not until there is a last little boy in the multiverse who has to suffer like me now.” He let Gu Fuhao’s CD play. Her voice was soothing, her tones painting a vivid image in Alistair’s head. He chose a song that spoke of springtime and growth. The blooming of flowers and the beginnings of new life.
“I believe you,” Dev’rox said. “I believe you’re a fool who would be assailed by great masters of creation if you even make it halfway to your crazy dream, but I believe you.”
I'm not alone, Alistair thought to himself. Even when he felt down or disillusioned in his goal, he knew that there were others who shared his aspirations. He would bring Heaven on Earth, and he would have help. His Justice Node stirred with understanding, but he held it back. There was a better time than now.