***** Arthur “Necrosbane” Boateng *****
Finally, after over a decade of fighting and two months with no rest, it is finished. The necromancers are defeated, the Grave World of Colony Alpha Prime has been cleansed in living fire, the uncountable restless spirits have been laid to rest, and I can finally sleep. I still cannot fathom the sheer stubborn, pride-driven refusal to communicate or allow communication that led The Grand Colony into such a mess. I was just glad that the political fallout was the admiral’s problem, not mine.
Shaking my head, I turn away from the glassed-out husk of a world and set a course for the Inertial Flamer, the Shihoth-built dreadnaught that I’ve been living on for most of the war, listening to the cheering that has filled the majority of the radio frequencies.
“Necrosbane to Spaghetti landing control, requesting landing bay assignment. I’m starving and about ready to pass out from exhaustion, over.” I sent with visions of juicy dinosaur steaks and fluffy pillows dancing through my head as I adjusted my wings, and the attached subspace propulsion systems, to go around a random asteroid.
“Spaghetti landing control to Necrosbane, flight path and landing bay assignment attached. Go rest my friend, you’ve done more than enough; the rest of us will take it from here,” replied a computerized yet cheerful monotone that could have been any one of Spaghetti’s numerous sub-minds. Normally, I’d care at least a little bit about which one of them it was, but that would require extra effort that isn’t really necessary. They’re all him at the end of the day, even if they are a little bit different.
Setting my musings aside, I turned my focus to flying my armored self through the slowly organizing chaos that was a battlespace mere moments before. Just because all of the necromancers had been defeated did not mean that it was safe, especially with some of the necrotic minefields they left behind. They may not pose much of a threat to me or my armor, but getting hit would still delay my much-deserved rest, so I endeavored to avoid them anyway.
Once I got to a relatively clear section of space, I checked which landing bay I’d been directed to, and was unsurprised to discover that I was being directed to a service airlock that I could only fit one of my power-armored feet in, let alone the remaining hundred plus thousand tons of my draconic mass. This wouldn’t be the first time things were so busy that I had to settle for a suitably large airlock instead of a landing bay. In fact, I preferred it this way as the airlock in question was significantly closer to the mess hall and my quarters than the actual landing bays.
It took a bit to cover the remaining distance because outer space is not small, but I was eventually able to stick my front left foot on the airlock floor carefully, and then switched to human form and pulled a one-handed cartwheel into the airlock. After waiting for the air to fill the chamber, I powered down my armor and stored it in my smart-wrist-bag, which is a combination of a smartphone, bag of holding, and magic multi-tool.
Before I could take another step, I felt a massive surge of mana from all around me, and I couldn’t move. It honestly felt like I was stuck in some kind of invisible cocoon. I tried doing something with my mana, but that was locked down too.
“All hands to battle stations! Stealthed universal displacer detected!” Spaghetti called over the intercom as the mana covering me continued to build.
Oh, that would do it. Welp, so much for my nap, guess I’m getting isekaied today. While we do have equipment to deal with this on the ship, we’re so far from where they usually are they’re all in storage. By the time someone gets one setup it’ll be far too late. While I will miss all my friends and family, I’m happy that I got to finish this war. Honestly, I leave no regrets behind, and there’s a decent chance I’ll be able to call home every now and then, so it’s not as bad as it could be.
“It’s been nice knowing you, Necrosbane, you are a good friend. If you end up somewhere you cannot call home, I will tell everyone you said goodbye.” Spaghetti said quietly via the speaker in the corner as the mana continued to build. “I guess a Displacer stealth ship must have somehow attached a Universal Displacer charge to you without anyone noticing in the heat of battle, and then set it to go off once you took your armor off. They probably got wind that we were almost done over here and didn’t want you to get involved in the other theater of the war. Too bad we weren’t prepared for their shenanigans all the way over here on the far side of Terran space. Now that we know they’re here, we can take countermeasures so we don’t lose anyone else. Goodbye, my friend, and may the Lord be with you in your new adventure.”
As soon as he finished speaking, the mana hit a critical point, and then everything flipped upside down and inside out before turning black.
***** Victrina Vitafino *****
“Good job everyone! We got the circle organized in record time!” yelled Lieutenant Colonel Marshane Binks, pausing briefly to allow for cheering. “As you all know, the Circle won’t activate for roughly an hour and forty-five minutes, so everyone can take a break for the next ninety minutes. I expect everyone to be on their spot in the circle by 95 minutes from now. Dismissed!”
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“You heard the man! Enjoy your freedom while it lasts!” I exclaimed to my platoon, to a resounding, “Yes ma’am!” I stretched my back briefly before wandering off toward the dining pavilion, along with the rest of the 1st Challenger’s Battalion of the Vantabu Collective. Not only is it the best source of shade in this part of the Challenger’s Landing Challenger Compound, it has some of the best food in the city outside of the Noble’s district. Why and how a chef of that caliber ended up working for what is effectively a glorified military base has always been one of the biggest mysteries of being a Challenger.
“Whew, I always forget how much of a workout the Challenge preparations are,” said Cantano, my best friend and the Support Officer 1 in charge of all 8 of my support personnel. “At least we didn’t have to deal with the panicking pack-pachyderms like we did last year. I’m sure somebody got in trouble for not training them right!”
“You can say that again!” I agreed. “I’m still not sure whose bright idea it was to try and have us use hippofants as pack animals for the Ranger platoon. The only pack animal I can think of that’s less stealthy is an elepottamous, and we both know how poorly that would have ended.”
“Ouch. Yeah, they don’t really understand how to be quiet unless they’re sleeping. Regardless, I’m looking forward to seeing what our mission is this time. I’m hoping it’s in a heavily forested area this time! I’m getting tired of the grasslands around here.”
“Same, honestly,” I agreed as I mentally reached into my belt’s magical storage space to get a meal token, only to remember that I’d decided to put them all in my storage chest with my tent in order to save room for more enchanted arrows in my belt. “Oops, looks like I left all my meal tokens in the Circle, I’ll be right back, you get us a table.”
“Fair enough. See you in a little while!” She waved.
A few minutes later, as I stepped into the Circle, I felt The Circle take notice of me, which is odd. It’s not supposed to wake up even that much for another hour at minimum. To make things even weirder, instead of merely identifying me and going back to sleep, The Circle froze me in place so it could do a deeper scan of my person. Why is it doing this now? I just updated my Challenger Registration last week to prepare for the coming Challenge.
Greetings Challenger, and congratulations! You have met the Requirements of The Systemic Prophecy and are now acknowledged by The System as the Half-Chosen One!
Wat.
[What is a Half-Chosen One, and what does it do for and/or to me?] I asked The System mentally since I was still frozen by The Circle.
Being a Half-Chosen One comes with a wide variety of benefits, including unique levels of System Access and new Class Options upon your next Class Up.
In other words, The System has no clue what this means, and this is being done by one of its subsystems at the behest of The Systemic Prophecy. Great. As if I wasn’t already enough of a freak with my snow-white skin and red eyes, now I’ve got this nonsense dropped on my head as well.
Congratulations Half-Chosen One! You get to Prove Your Worth by completing the first set of Faction Quests and Faction Challenges on your own! The Circle is now closed. Forty-five seconds until teleportation.
Oh. Oh no. [How in the world am I supposed to complete a bunch of Quests meant for the whole battalion all on my own? I’m doomed aren’t I?]
Fear not Challenger! While you are currently only a Half-Chosen One, by the time you actually enter the first Faction Quest you will be a Full Chosen One with all of the benefits and abilities that entails. Twenty-five seconds to teleportation.
[What are you talking about? That tells me nothing!]
Before the system could respond, reality shifted in ways I could barely comprehend, with what felt like something else being layered over top of me, before the universe turned right side out and right side up before shifting back to where it used to be.
[Wait, am I taller all of a sudden?]
{No, I think I’m shorter. Why can’t I move?}
Congratulations on Advancing from a Half-Chosen One to a Full Chosen One! Teleportation will now commence!
[{Wat?}]
And then everything flashed to white.