Leif stared down at the shattered remains of the Noble, the tiny shards of crystal reflecting light that didn’t exist within the empty world of the trial. Was that supposed to happen? He wondered. Or was he just that fragile? Was the simulated ego really so weak, so easy to break?

Glass crunched, the sound jolting Leif from his contemplation. The monster took another step, clawed feet crushing the crystalline remains. “Weak.” It hissed, shifting to grind the shards of crystal into the featureless floor. “As was to be expected.”

“He was living the life he was born to live…” Leif said. “But he hated it, forced himself to embody the person who wouldn’t.” He looked around. The Worker and the Wretch were off to the side, the latter looking sorrowful, the former despondent.

“Yes.” The Monster growled. “Now dispatch of the next weakest, shatter them like you did the Noble, prove that humanity is the cause of all our problems. Both our own, and the beings we once called kin.”

Leif ignored them, striding over to where the Worker was patiently waiting, careful not to step on the fragments of the Noble as he did so. The Monster leered, letting out a low whistle of anger. “What of you two? Why are you the way you are? How did it come to this?”

The Worker smiled forlornly, the lines of his face creasing, his eyes not meeting Leif’s own. “Nothing so harrowing for me. I’m afraid of all of us, I’m the boring one.”

“Boring? I somehow doubt that. Where do we diverge? Did you leave the family as I once did? Did you join the army as an officer? Fight the enslavers that invaded Varan?”

A gasp came from the side, the Wretch’s eyes had shot open, his manic expression glaring up at them as if realising their existence for the first time. “No.” He whispered. “No, I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to lose them again. I can’t. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t I can’t I can’t I CAN’T!”

The Wretch was screaming by the end, arms shielding his face, his one leg kicking out as if to defend himself from an invisible foe. It was a pitiable sight, the man’s aura was a chaotic mess of emotions and intentions, as if his mind and soul were trapped someplace far away from his body.

“Silence his wailing or I will do it myself.” The Monster said, prowling forward. Leif whirled on the Monster, once again reaching out to restrain its bloodlust. The scene flickered, and once more they found themselves within the forest. It sneered, their blood red claws extending, dripping, flowing into blades made of crimson liquid.

The Worker took a step back, panicked as the intent to kill began to radiate off the Monster. It’s presence was not unlike Leif’s own before he fused his aura. But the Monster’s authority was like that of a tyrant, a predator, one’s who’s very nature gave them the right to brutality and bloodshed.

“I grow tired of this game.” It growled, its slate grey body rippling as it grew. The Monster’s vaguely humanoid appearance twisting and morphing into something unrecognisable. Blood cloaked their elongated arms and legs, jutting out at random, the spiky protrusions glinting under the bare trickle of moonlight filtering down through the canopy.

Now half the size of the being before him, Leif flexed his will, four pairs of amber arms bursting from his clothing, their glow bathing the small forest clearing in a golden ambiance. “Explain yourself! Who are you? And why the hells are you in my trial?”

“I am you, a stronger you, a more primal you. One who shed their weakness and now walks the path of true power!” The Monster roared down at him, the being’s voice making the nearby tree’s quake, their leaves rustling as if trembling in fear.

The Worker grabbed the Wretch and tried to pull him away. The crippled alternative let out a cry of panic and lashed out, striking the Worker in the side of his head, sending the man sprawling.

An [Amber Aegis] sprung up around both human alternatives, the golden glow of the clearing intensifying.

“Why protect them? Why? Do you realise how much it limits you? Why bother letting them close? Why bring those who mean you harm into your life?”

“I am stronger because of those I connect with. It allows me to learn, grow, expand my horizons in ways impossible without them.” Leif replied, taking a step to the side as the Monster began to circle him.

A spear of blood shot out for one of the humans behind him. Leif snapped out an amber fist and caught the projectile, he crushed it with his grip.

“Learn?” The Monster laughed, the sound more like a low, rumbling cackle. “Yes, I too learnt much from humans. I learnt how much they fear, and what that fear drives them to do.”

“What happened when you met the expedition?” Leif asked, keeping himself between the Monster and the other alternatives. “Or, perhaps, you never met them? You have golden eyes, at least partially, so when did our paths diverge? What mistake did you make that-”

Something gripped Leif by the leg. Startled, he glanced down, and the scene shifted. But it wasn’t the Monster’s doing. Soldiers, faceless one and all milled around the courtyard. Dozens of squads of twelve stood in formation. None of them were real, they possessed no physicality nor presence. Leif stared down at the one being in the vision other than himself that possessed both. The Wretch clung to Leif’s leg, his eyes wide and confused.

“What did you do?” Leif asked ,having to raise his voice to be heard over the sound of orders being shouted.

The Wretch didn’t respond, their breath coming in short, sharp inhalations as he took in their surroundings. A group emerged from a nearby building, one of their number immediately arresting Leif’s attention.

It was him. Older than he had been during the last vision, or even the previous advancement trial Leif had completed. The young man was in his late teens, hair cropped short and eyes firm. At a glance Leif thought he looked stressed, his muscles tensed and his calm expression forced.

The new group, each wearing more formal uniforms lined up before the soldiers. Then, one by one, their names were called, and the squad they were being assigned to shouted out for everyone in the courtyard to hear. “No.” The Wretch whispered. “Not again.”

Leif placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, he flinched away, but his grip on Leif’s leg only tightened. It was as if the Wretch was clinging to him for support, while at the same time seemingly unable to get too close.

“Captain Leif Vin! You are assigned to squad seventeen. From this day forward they are your responsibility. May you lead them well in the battles to come!” A faceless officer yelled. The past Leif stepped forward and his faceless squad saluted.

The scene shifted. Firelight danced across the nearby tents as smoke rose into the evening air from a hundred different sources. Leif sat with his squad, a cup in his hands as he listened to their laughter and banter.

“You wouldn’t believe it.” One of the soldiers was saying. “Big guy, easily twice, no, three times my size comes sauntering up to me like he owns the bar. Right, so he asked me what I think I’m doing and…”

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The grip around Leif’s leg tightens. “This is… this is some time before the battle.” He said.

“The battle...” The Wretch replied, his voice breaking. “They followed me. I lead them all to their deaths.”

“Captain sir!” A tall faceless soldier said, the man giving an awkward salute.

“What is it, Heffnir?” Past Leif asked.

“The provisions are checked, captain sir!”

“Oh, great. Take a seat, you can relax, you know?”

“Yes captain sir!”

“Just one or the other is fine, Heffnir. You don’t need to use both at once.”

“Hey captain sir!” Another soldier calls, the tone of his voice making it clear she was joking. “Could you pass the sack, yeah that one.”

“Don’t eat all of them.” Past Leif warned as several of his squad mates started pulling what looked like fist sized chunks of bread from the sack.

“No danger of that captain sir, these taste like rocks.”

“About as hard too.”

Leif firmed his emotions. He no longer knew the people present in the vision, but from how his past self’s expression lit up as he listened to their chatter, he could tell that he had once cared deeply for these people.

“They all died because of me. Because of me.” The Wretch said, voice barely above a whisper.

“It was war.” Leif said. “Weren’t they defending their homes? Their families? The enslavers would have taken all that away if nobody had fought, killed far more than died fighting.”

“No.” The Wretch said.

“No?”

The scene shifted again, this time to the interior of a large, ornate tent. A rounded table sat in the centre of the tent, its surface covered in a topographic map of two hills and the valley between them. Over thirty people were crowded into the tent, each in armour.

“We attack in the hours after sunset. The [Seer]s have confirmed heavy rainfall, and that will cover the sound of our approach. The omens too are favourable, four out of six from a [Trainee].” A woman in ornate armour said, her hand splayed out on the table. “The enslaved legion is creating fortifications within the valley, but their work will be hampered by the weather. A single, decisive offensive will cede control over the centre of the valley to our forces. With their formations broken the enemy will be vulnerable.”

“Here here!” Several senior officers called, clanging their fists against their breastplates.

“We need volunteers for the squads who will be part of the initial attack. Captains, state your intentions now, or forever give up this glory.”

Leif peered through the crowded tent, catching sight of his past self pressed up against the far wall of the tent. I’m going to volunteer. He thought. A strange kind of certainty coming over him. His memories from the last hours of his human life were vague, more blur of darkness and confusion than anything coherent. But he felt confident that his past self had volunteered for the offensive. And he was correct, although every captain in the tent did the same. But with each squad that was selected to take part in the offensive, his never was.

“You didn’t take part in the attack.” Leif said, speaking out loud for the Wretch to hear. “And because of it you survived.”

“Survived...” The Wretch repeated.

“Was it just luck? Was luck the reason you lived through this battle and I didn’t?”

The scene shifted, rain fell in heavy sheets down on a muddy and churned battlefield. Corpses and discarded weapons littered the ground, blood mixing with water and dirt to vanish into the background of the carnage.

Past Leif ran, his squad arrayed out behind him. They clashed with a group of dark-clad enslaved, the ringing of steel on steel all but drowned out by the storm overhead. Occasionally flashes of multicoloured light lit the battlefield, the skills refracting off the falling drops of rain to briefly turn the world into a chaotic rainbow.

A faceless soldier fell, cut down by their opponent. Past Leif yelled and charged forward, fending off two enemies at once as he sought to exact vengeance. The skirmish was won, but another began almost immediately afterwards.

“Captain sir!” The tall soldier, Heffnir yelled. “Where is the frontline? Was a retreat called?”

“I don’t know! What are the flares saying?”

“The codes are all wrong, it doesn’t make any sense!” Another soldier said.

“Shit.” Past Leif swore, turning with his sword drawn. “We need to regroup with our allies or we’ll be sitting ducks out here.” His expression was hard, hair slick against face from the downpour. The squad, only eight now, started moving in the direction of a nearby flurry of activity when they were set upon by small dog sized monsters.

The ants swarmed over the mud, mandibles clacking, their obsidian forms nearby invisible against the muddy field. Skills flashed, soldiers screamed. Leif fought, hacking and slashing at the swarm of ants. Then one dashed forward, and severed his leg with a savage bite. Past Leif didn’t cry out as he fell, instead it looked as though the shock of the maiming had temporarily stunned him.

Heffnir yelled, rushing forward to spear the monster as it backed away. The battle continued, men and women fell. Heffnir reached down and grabbed Leif, hauling him up onto his back. The tall soldier screamed a command and what was left of the squad obeyed. They retreated, fleeing into the night.

The scene shifted, the chaos of the night being replaced by the damp mist of the morning. The squad of four trudged through a field, carrying two wounded between them. Leif was one of them, he was unconscious and limp, but still breathing. His leg having been tied up with impromptu bandages. The sun rose over a nearby hill, the mist burning away as the dawn light washed over the land. The soldiers looked around, searching for danger, or perhaps for allies.

They found the latter. A hundred horsemen emerged from a nearby crop of trees, their spears pointed towards the sky as they rode. The squad collapsed, exhausted and wounded. Leif watched in confusion as a small group of cavalry detached, making their way towards where his past self and his men were located.

“I don’t understand.” Leif said. “I thought you said they all died? But that clearly isn’t what happened.”

“Watch.” The Wretch rasped, his eyes staring blankly at the scene before them.

“Identify yourselves!” One of the riders yelled.

“Squad seventeen, or what's left of us.” Heffnir replied, the man sounded exhausted, but his relief shined through.

“What is this?” One of the riders asked, unlike the others they weren’t armoured. “More deserters? Round them up, they will be held accountable for the defeat our forces suffered today!”

“W-what? S-sir that’s not!”

Several of the horsemen dismounted, their spears now pointed at Leif’s former squad. One by one his men surrendered, their protests went ignored and their explanations of innocence unheard. Past Leif’s eyes fluttered open as he fell to the ground, Heffnir no longer able to carry him with his arms bound in chains. He gasped out what may have been a question, but nobody replied.

“Take that one, they’re a captain by the looks of it.” The unarmoured man said, gesturing at Leif. “Put that one out of their misery, it’s the humane thing to do.”

A spear fell, an unmoving soldier died.

“What… What is this?” Leif asked, looking on in disbelief. “This can’t be right, what on earth is happening?”

The Wretch shook, in rage or fear Leif couldn’t tell.

The scene shifted, a dirty cell and its dirtier occupants. Then again, a gallows and two dozen men and women lined up before it.

“What is this?” Leif asked, even more frantic. “Answer me! Why is this happening?”

The past, leg-less Leif was forced to watch as his surviving squad was hung.

He grabbed the Wretch, pulling him up by the collar as the world faded around them. He shook his alternative. “What the hells was that? Why would they do that? Answer me, damn you!”

“They needed someone to blame.” The Wretch rasped. “They used what they found.”

Then his body turned into transparent crystal and shattered. The glass shards fell through Leif’s fingers as the scion stood stunned, unable to comprehend what he had just witnessed.