Frankly, I was as tongue-tied as much as Captain Rayden. Sure, I kind of expected Deckard to be the first to try to break free of his reliance on the system. Not that he would do it here, and only after a rough explanation. I was prepared to prove to them that I could control my skills without having them in my skill set, for the reluctance to let go of their skills, even if it meant mastering them better in the end.

I guess I underestimated Deckard’s desperation.

“You’re a fool, you know that?” Captain Rayden grilled him, angry, worried about him. After all, he had just given up one of his most vital skills.

And much to her outrage, my mentor simply grinned. “Some would call me brave.”

“Not, in this case, fool. We don’t understand . . .”

“And how do you expect to understand if you don’t try?”

“Don’t try to talk yourself out of it, fool.”

A grin spread across my face. The old war of theirs between gut instinct and rational planning. I was amazed at how much I missed that. It was the little things; I guess.

“How bad is it?” Rayden eventually asked about his skill.

“Not as bad as I expected. I can still use it, obviously.”

“That’s a known fact,” Mr. Sandoval chimed in with his knowledge. “It’s generally known that when you get rid of a skill, you don’t completely lose said skill. Although, for some reason, there’s this notion among people that you will. It must be fear. For it was ridiculous. Even if you get rid of [Knife Handling], you will still be able to hold the knife. Even if I get rid of my class, I should still be able to read books.”

“No, Mr. Sandoval, you would be able to read books,” I corrected him, glad to see that those present were beginning to recover from the shock of a world without a system.

“I appreciate your confidence in me, Miss Grey, but . . .”

“In the past, there was no system, and people were able to read. In fact, they built labyrinths without the help of the system.”

The old librarian closed his eyes for a moment and let out a breath. “I apologize. It’s a lot for this old man to take in. Perhaps the younger ones could . . .”

“What? Me? I don’t know. I mean. That the system didn’t exist when the labyrinths were built seemed plausible,” stammered Hazel Mooney, a librarian like him, but lacking the old man’s calm demeanor that came with age. “Skills though - if what the Guardian of Idleaf and Miss Palemoon say is true, our ancestors crippled the entire population of today. If everyone got rid of their skills - I can’t even imagine.”

“That’s because people have forgotten how the system was meant to be used,” Stella said in an attempt to explain their ancestors’ intentions. “We have become dependent on it, lazy, instead of actually honing our skills.”

“I see what you mean, Private Palemoon. But I have to agree with Mooney. If the system were to stop working and people were to lose half of what they know . . .”

“An absolute disaster,” Sah agreed with Rayden. “I can’t imagine the Sahal Empire surviving something like that.”

“Please, guys, calm down,” I tried not so gracefully to calm things down. “We’re not talking about shutting down the system - just that people are using it wrong.”

“Didn’t you say that the labyrinths would stop working in a few centuries?” Sah pointed out.

“I also said that the system was one of the contingency plans to save the sentient races. Not that they are connected to the labyrinths.”

“But the possibility is there, isn’t it?”

In all honesty, I had no choice but to admit that Sah was right. “It is. The Echo took place when the idea of the system was still in its infancy.”

“Then I think it’s better to work with the assumption that the system will collapse with the fall of the labyrinths.”

Better safe than sorry, huh? It was hard to say anything.

“Frankly, I can’t imagine telling my superiors. Assuming the Oath allows me to, of course. They will laugh at me.”

“I’m afraid that’s the part people need to know, Agent Sah,” I said, sort of sympathizing with him and the challenge that lay before him. “People need to learn how to use the system the right way.”

“And you know the right way, Grey?” Captain Rayden asked, curious, probably worried about Deckard and his rash decision.

“No, not really, ma’am,” Stella said when I hesitated. “We haven’t had access to the system in over eight months. All we know is theory.”

Rayden sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose before looking up at Deckard. “Maybe you should have listened to this before you decided to jump the blade.”

“Maybe I should have, but, hey. No regrets here.”

She chuckled. “I’ll take you up on that. So - can you get the skill back?”

“I sure can, and - I did.”

“And?”

“Level 1.”

“The fuck?”

“Traiana’s tits!”

“Medvin’s hairy balls!”

“Girls?!” Captain Rayden looked at us, her expression saying it all. ‘What the fuck? Can you explain this?’

Stella took on that role. “That’s why we don’t seem to have made any progress, unlike Meneur, Freyde and Harper, ma’am. We believe, in fact, we’ve already experienced it; the system needs to see what you can really do. If Mr. Deckard takes another step, then . . .”

“Traiana’s tits!”

“What now, Deck?” Rayden asked as he took the step, grabbing his head the next second.

“System level up notifications, shit ton of them. Level 43, my skill, that is.”

“Try another step,” I suggested to my mentor, whereupon he took three more void strides across the room without hesitation.

“Hmm - level 153.”

More strides followed. “Level 168 seems to be the maximum. I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but it’s not as bad as I feared. Maybe if I had more space - this room isn’t exactly huge.”

“Yes,” I blurted out when he understood. “You have to show what you can do, your best, what you truly have mastered.”

“Oh, interesting,” he hummed, childish glee and eagerness to try sparkling in his eyes.

“Deckard! Think before you do anything,” Rayden warned him, seeing where his thoughts were taking him. “Do you know how many people are waiting for a chance to get rid of you? Even if half of your strength remains - you don’t have to make it easy for them.”

My mentor smiled and finally sat back in his chair. “Don’t worry, San. I may be a fool, as you said, but I’m not that much of a fool. I still have people to protect and an apprentice to take care of. Though I’m not exactly sure who’s teaching who right now. Little Beast, how do I know when I am still using what I have truly mastered and when the system is already guiding me by the hand?

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A damn good question. “I suppose that’s something we can figure out together. I have no idea.”

“Neither do I,” Stella threw in. Neither Traiana nor Rairok had any experience with the system. What we discussed with them were all assumptions from what little they knew, and Rairok saw through our connection.

“Then I guess it’s going to be training one skill at a time - I like the sound of that.”

***

Meneurmut couldn’t stop marveling at Deckard. The man, though human, was a strong warrior. One that even the warriors of his clan respected. Yet he gave up his strength so easily. A taurus warrior would never do that. It would be a shame that they couldn’t live through in the clan.

But if everything Korra and Stella said about the system was true, giving up their strength was what they would most likely have to do, unless they wanted to be left behind and crippled on crutches for the rest of their lives. Unfortunately, Meneurmut could not imagine their warriors doing so, and thus could not help but sigh at the fate of his clan. The decline that had begun when they fought for the Terran Federation against the beasts of the north seemed certain to deepen in the future.

“Are you all right?” asked Frayde in a whisper. “I mean . . .”

“Not really,” Menurmut answered truthfully. “But tell me, who is after hearing such a thing?” The system was something created by humans and dragons - it sounded like a fairy tale, like crap what some arrogant humans would spew.

“Hmm, Idleaf.”

“Not funny, Harper,” Meneurmut grumbled, glancing at Stella and Korra. “I wonder, though . . .” Gone were the days when he would simply tuck his tail between his legs and lower his head, so he gathered his courage. “Does this mean that you two are stronger than the system is showing us?”

While Harper seemed puzzled about what he was talking about, Korra and Stella both nodded. “We haven’t had much of a chance to prove ourselves since we got back.”

“Besides, we haven’t really tried.”

“You haven’t tried? Why?” Captain Rayden asked, probably just like him, Harper and Freyde, wondering how strong they actually were after those eight months of intense training.

“Because we were happy to find our way back, to be back, ma’am.”

“And because we’re tired of fighting,” Korra added, obviously not quite keen on throwing herself into training anytime soon. “We are just dying to rest for a few days.”

Understandable, yet what she said made his horns itch. “So you took part in the battle? The one where Traiana, you know, cried?”

“Yes,” Korra said, slightly confused. “Didn’t we say that already? That was where we found our way back. And mostly thanks to you, Meneur.”

Thanks to him? Meneurmut’s skin crawled as everyone’s attention turned in his direction. He hated it. Back in his clan, such attention had meant trouble, ridicule, and sometimes even pain.

“M-me? I wasn’t there with you,” he stammered to get rid of the hateful attention.

“No, you weren’t,” Stella nodded, a warm smile on her face that confused him. “But do you remember what you did in the maze before Korra and I were dragged away through that seeping past?”

He did. “My notes?”

“Yes, Meneur, your notes. Without them, we would have never gotten out of there. You see . . .”

Stella and Korra then went on to explain how his hastily sketched trail of their run through the maze had helped them create a rough map of it. That the maze actually turned out to be a reflection of the rune lines holding the Echo from the present, and that Traiana, the guide, was able to determine where their exit should be. And since he had led them to the center of the maze, their way out was in the heart of the Echo.

Guilt struck him. “I’m sorry if I didn’t . . .”

“No, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Stella is right, Meneur. If anything, we’ve been nothing but grateful to you all along, and we still are. If you hadn’t taken the notes and given them to Stella at the last moment - well, we’d still be there, with no hope of coming back and possibly already insane.”

Then Korra and Stella did something no one had ever done before. They bowed their heads in respect. “Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

“Yes, thank you, Meneur. It is only because of your quick thinking that we are here now.”

The big taurus found himself speechless, his hands shaking, not really knowing how to react, how to deal with the new feeling rushing through his body. Was it pride, something that only the warriors of his clan get to enjoy?

“Good job, man,” Freyde patted him on the back, and his chest heaved, him standing - well, sitting - taller than ever.

“That earns you a drink from me, Ironhoof,” Deckard, a warrior he had great respect for, spoke to him of an honor he had only been able to watch from a distance. Remembering those moments and knowing that hesitation was a sign of disrespect, he nodded. “I will g-gladly accept.”

Deckard laughed, pleased. “That’s a man’s word.”

“Very astute thinking on Ironhoof’s part, I must say,” the Imperial agent chimed in, his attention, however, on Stella and Korra. “Is that map still in your possession?”

To the disappointment of more than just Agent Sah, Stella shook her head. “I’m afraid not. Like all our stuff, it’s become a part of the past, and as you know . . .”

“Yes, the past cannot exist in the present. Pity, it could have saved many lives.”

“I agree, pity,” Captain Rayden nodded, thinking. “What about those who were lost there with you? Did you find any of them? Any chance of getting them back?”

Both Stella and Korra shook their heads again. “According to Traiana, dozens of them wandered the Echo, some for over a century. But none of them were of sound mind.”

“We met one, and that was . . .” Stella stopped herself. “Well, what kept the man there was his will, the thought of his beloved Elaine and the child they were expecting.”

“Do you know the man’s name?”

“No, ma’am. All he talked about was that Elaine.”

“But Traiana said he’s been in the Echo for eight years,” Korra said, visibly shaking at the memory.

“With that, especially if they were married, there shouldn’t be any problem tracking the woman down,” Lieutenant Blaine pointed out. “It could bring her some closure.”

“Or pain,” Chief Healer Marcus noted. “You know, knowing he’s out there somewhere, lost, crazy. Not exactly comforting.”

“But if I understand correctly, it’s the thought of her that keeps him alive, so . . .”

“That’s something we’ll work out later.” Captain Rayden stopped the two and turned her gaze back to Meneurmuts’ squadmates. “Are you absolutely sure there’s no way to get these people out?”

To Captain Rayden’s and even Meneurmut’s disappointment, there wasn’t. The humans and taurus warriors trapped in the heart of Fallen’s Cry would have to know exactly where they had entered. And if that wasn’t enough, they would have to be very lucky not to find themselves on the front lines.

“Speaking of which,” Deckard spoke, more relaxed than Meneurmut had ever seen him before. Naturally. After years, he had finally found the root of his bottlenecks. “Will you finally tell us what they - and you - were fighting?”

“Beasts,” Korra said almost immediately despite her previous reluctance, but then looked at him with sadness in her eyes. “. . . and beastmen. Sorry, Meneur, but that’s what they were called back then.”

The word rubbed his fur the wrong way, and she knew it. Yet it wasn’t something he would hold against the humans, as long as it wasn’t used in a derogatory way. After all, whether his fellow terrans liked it or not, their origins were a matter of debate even within his own race. No one knew for sure if it lay in the beasts that found wisdom, in the humans that indulged in their bestiality, or simply in the crossbreeding of two races.

“And, in fact, they were - beastmen.” Stella added after a moment, much to his surprise. As his squad leader, a noble lady, he had expected her to be more considerate on the subject.

“What do you mean, Miss Palemoon?” asked Mr. Sandoval with undisguised curiosity. “Do you know anything about the origin of the terrans?”

Stella nodded, not really sharing the librarian’s enthusiasm for the up-until-now untold history. “The wars back then were the time when the beastmen, as a race, saw the light of day.”

The fact that his race owed its birth to the rape of captive humans by beasts was most difficult for him to listen to. It was as far as it could get from the idolized and exalted versions of their origins most terrans believed in. Those turned out to be nothing but nonsense, legends based on lies, children’s tales.

Rape - the terrans would not accept such a truth. Meneurmut was sure of it.

***

While Ironhoof’s dismay was understandable, and so was the excitement of the librarians Sandoval and Mooney about the new historical findings, Sansia Rayden had another thing on her mind. The war. “The ancient civilization fell to an onslaught of beasts and beastmen, then? Why would the beasts attack? Was there one who managed to unite them?”

This time, she didn’t hold back and said what was on her mind, because what she heard so far was strikingly similar to what was currently happening in the north. She might not be a general anymore, the Sahal Empire was no longer her concern, yet she couldn’t help but worry about the safety of the place she had fought so hard for. She needed to know what the humans might be facing again in the near future.

“It wasn’t dragons, was it?” Janine asked, the tragedy that had befallen her hometown never leaving her mind over the years. “You said they helped build the labyrinths - and the system.”

Grey shook her head, her wings pressed against her body, her tail unusually still. Surely there was more to it than beasts and beastmen, and the girl was afraid to tell them. Seeing her like that, even Sanysia hesitated for a moment, wondering if it would not be better to live in ignorance, only to quickly banish the absurd thought. Ignorance might have been a bliss to live in, but only until reality crashed in. Then all the shit hit you with your knickers at your ankles.

She had to know, even if the truth seemed to be more terrifying than the non-existence of the system.

“No, what humans, elves, World Trees and even dragons faced were beasts of lesser will,” Grey said carefully, weighing every word.

Lesser will; that sounded all too familiar. “I take it you’re not talking about mind mages?”

“No, ma’am. Though the beasts WERE controlled against their will. Most of them, anyway, I think.”

“Do I have to ask?” Sanysia gave Grey a questioning look as the girl paused.

“No, I just - do you really want to know?”

“I need to know, Grey.”

The girl closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, they traveled to her feet and back. “It was Eleaden. Back then, they fought the very planet we walk on.”