The march of time is inexorable and irreversible, unless you happen to own a time machine, in which case you can revisit the first month or two of Commandment of Hero's service period. Time trampled the bridal event and stomped on the latest National Hunt to prepare the field for the latest crop, which turned out to be waving fields of absolutely nothing. The dreaded dead week returned, a time for every player to question why he was still playing the game and for every officer to practice juggling.
“I want to do a gag where I pretend not to know the difference between fighting game juggling and real juggling. But! I'm too deft at real juggling to pull it off.”
“I can see that, Ulrik. You can make it up to us by working this Complete Orb of Mastery in.” Cadmos tossed the ball over to Ulrik, who launched it with his knee into the assortment he had going of his scimitar, a tape recorder found in the Team Generic bungalow under a chair, the instruction manual for the space strategy classic M****** o* O**** which Sindze U. Radalo left in the Rare closet after announcing she had memorized the entire thing for copy protection reasons, one Draconic Bone, and a Baleful Eye which was hard to take seriously as an item of ominous import in that situation, unlike when it went into some piece of armor to increase a bar by five pixels.
Ulrik could call that real juggling till end of service, but when a training dummy got popped up in the air and stayed there for eight full seconds propelled only by the sword, fist, and feet of a furious main character, what could anyone call that but the realest juggling of all?
“Good day to you tireless workers. Is that juggling that I see?” Gintus Pelluina dropped in like a wacky neighbor, except nobody clapped.
“That's weird. I thought I set it up to clap when anyone came through the arch.” Burmin Trivvis examined the sensor installed in the one opening through the fence. Following the reduction of yet another Cadmos Dome to a whisper of the past, the existing teams had set up a general-use practice area near the data renewal facility consisting of plain ground and a simple wooden barrier. What the new practice field lacked in features only possible in a modern stadium, it made up for by existing for several whole days without incident.
“As surprising as it was when your stadium collapsed, revealing tunnels beneath the foundation doubtless worked by the hands of men, even more startling is to see that you seem to be accomplishing something. Well done, Cadmos.”
“Thanks, Gintus. This improvised practice ground has been a big success. All the spying gets done much faster, so we can spend more of our time in ways that are a bit more directly productive. Just look around.”
Over there, Minsie of the Waves skipped a rope held by Aerywe and Gaelvry Beruvo, who manipulated it in increasingly complex patterns. Most officers stopped there to watch, but past that spectacle, Count Poitnem blasted a target while unloading lines to be judged by a focus group of characters assembled from various games. Under Boxer Andit's direction, a team winched North Pole Azinsia higher and higher as she held out watermelons for Bel Felicitous Fasde to smash with his leaping uppercut. Team Phoenix employed similar pulley technology to hoist a chandelier so that Duelist Theena could practice her swinging. As for Team New Blood, Ozric Orn Pallad and his skinny sword imitated Theena as well as they were able during a sparring session against Marileanna while the other members patrolled with their phones to capture helpful footage of her rivals. Even some Commons were doing something inscrutable in a corner.
None of the dismaying boredom players suffered during a dead weak afflicted the officers, who believed with every vertex of their being that Ersatz Struggle news would arrive soon. They even had evidence in the form of increasingly frequent data checkups. It got to the point that Theena thought she would be forgiven for skipping a single session, but that notion died amid a cacophony of klaxons even as the sky darkened, pierced by spotlights which sleek, black aerial drones emitted. They screamed through the skies as they searched for Theena to snatch her up with extendable grabby claws.
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“Does anyone suppose those drones will make an appearance in the story? Part 3 doesn't seem to be going that way, but perhaps Part 4 will.”
Sindze U. Radalo shook out her golden mane. “I wish I could hope that unimplemented assets meant something, I really do, but haven't we learned that reason and logic are alien to the developers? They haven't so much as added a permanent tower mode. How long again has Ulrik been flaunting that costume of his like a novice huntress who shot a squirrel for the first time and carries it everywhere she goes as if it's an impressive trophy that deserves a spot over the fireplace? Or where he goes, because I would never do something like that.”
“You never know. Anyway, could you pull me back up? I don't have blood, so not feeling it rushing to my head is unnerving me.”
“But Reginald, didn't you say you wanted a better view? What more can I do than dangle you over Freegate's walls?”
Not much without a catapult. Unfortunately for Sindze and Reginald, to get the best possible view of the chase, one had to run after Theena or perhaps hide her in one's haystack or wardrobe while the drones passed by. Spectators stuck with suboptimal views nevertheless had a good time, and Duelist Theena learned a lesson about running away from your responsibilities just because you wanted to work in more training in place of attending a solo photo shoot. Slacker.
After that, the confirmed Strugglers as well as the hopefuls and no-longer-hopefuls practiced and played within reasonable bounds. That meant almost nonstop except for the couple times each day an announcement video might drop. Then they repaired to the dining hall for a refreshing repast while they scoured social media for mentions of their own names and waited for the main monitor to reveal the shape of the future. Eventually it did just that.
The host hooted when the lights finally dimmed, for the customary silence had been de-customed when it came to Ersatz Struggle trailers. They all knew any footage was getting watched dozens of times, and as the old adage says, presumed familiarity breeds a loss of reverence. Some of the more desperate officers, Team Tinni Ilx they might be called but were not, began their crying preemptively, while those who craved fighting action regardless of the final roster's makeup hopped up on the tables for a better view in so egregious a violation of etiquette that nothing could be done but label them as Team Excitement over Skaya's objection that E was taken. Dosellian Urapta, Coremel, and Dennet of course constituted the rowdy core while Castru, Leaznalo, and Ipons Ulsrada formed the parts you have to break off before you can damage the boss.
But why should those clowns get to be Team Excitement when excitement was the rightful possession of all Commandment of Hero, officers and players alike, not to mention streamers, video releasers, and fanart enjoyers? The last category especially had a lot of reason to feel stimulated. The rest hoped to reach that level when the newest entrant appeared. And there he was.
Height! Width! Girth! All the dimensions, plus an undersized sword or perhaps double-broad dagger and a mustache not in any way undersized or oversized. Perfect, really. The Brenlonder warlord Gradis P. Dorenz began another campaign in all his Ultra Rare Quake Championness. The response was immediate and overwhelming.
“Who's that?”
“Is this a collab announcement?”
“By the middle initial I suppose he's from Brenlond. More than that I can't say.”
Confusion distracted many from the principal facts, but Dosellian Urapta's pointed intellect pierced through it all. “Coremel, did that look like a command grab to you?”
“It did, sure as the sun shows up straight overhead.”
“That covers the grappler spot, then.”
“You sure about that, Fancy? Guess my favorite is figured out, just as soon as somebody identifies the person of interest.” Nonneros Under the Moonlight waved his hat to garner attention. “An all-expenses-paid round trip on the Brave Cumulus to the first boy bright enough to squeal!”
“That's me, you dolts,” Santa C. Dorenz said.
Necks twisted as officers looked back and forth between Santa and screen. “You almost fooled me, Santa, but I'll keep a fist curled around my dough till I get a genuine answer.” Nonneros replaced his hat in order to free up his first for curling. There were officers who went back on their word, and then there was Nonneros.
Never before had Cadmos received such rough treatment in the form of piledrivers and German suplexes with perfect bridges. Normally people just hit him, filled him full of arrows, or rammed the ship in which he had taken passage over the great ocean between the continents of Sadalsia and Yoerbla. Critics agreed that last to be the optimal method of Cadmos disposal, but also that this Gradis guy was making a strong play for second.