> When I first met Mirabelle Braddock, I knew she would be trouble. I should have killed her, there and then, but I was too selfish to see what she might become. I was too interested in winning our war.

Alistaris Kargat

I huddled in the corner of my bedroom, my knees clutched to my chest as I stared at what Patrick had become. I was grateful he was alive. Of course I was. But I couldn’t ignore the reality of his transformation. Even in darkness, the right side of his face shone with the blue light of his artificial eye. The rest of his cybernetic parts were hidden beneath the blankets, but I knew they were there, all the same.

How could I not?

How could I forget that I was the reason they were necessary? After all, through my actions, millions of people had died. Most of them had been Pacificians – pseudo-sapient androids built around the blueprint of real people’s minds – but there were plenty who’d been killed in the aftermath of their self-destruction. Those deaths were on me. Without my vendetta, all those people would still be alive.

And Patrick would still be whole.

So, I sat against the wall, and I wept for all the evil I had caused. For all the lives I had cut short. And for all the people I had maimed. People like Patrick, but without the possibility of rebuilding their bodies through cybernetics. After all, I knew just how many credits those parts had cost. Not to mention a qualified cybernetic engineer to install them. No – the death toll would climb with every passing day. Some would succumb to their injuries. Others would survive, but for how long? The world wasn’t kind to those with disabilities. It was hard enough to survive in the best of times, but adding missing limbs or broken spines to the mix? Few would make it through that, and only those with the money to treat those injuries would thrive.

I knew I should have been grateful for Patrick’s survival. His cybernetics weren’t the highest-quality available, but they were better than most. As such, he could’ve actually seen it all as an upgrade. In fact, he’d said as much right after he’d woken up.

But still, the guilt remained, and rightly so.

I had done horrible things, and until that very moment, I hadn’t had the opportunity to truly wrap my mind around it all. Millions of Pacificians. A huge crater on the moon, visible even from Earth’s surface. Tens of thousands of humans. And that wasn’t even considering what I’d done back in Nova.

I’d long since come to terms with the fact that I was a killer. A mass murderer. I had my reasons. Of course I did. Even with the benefit of hindsight, I was secure in my choices. I would make them all again, too. However, even if that was the case, it didn’t preclude me from feeling guilty about the things I’d had to do.

The people I’d had to kill.

The collateral damage I had left behind.

Like that, I remained for hours. Eventually, my tears dried up, and my thoughts turned from the regrets of the past to plans for the future. I still had four open skill slots. The opportunities they represented were nearly infinite. There were skills out there for every purpose, and I knew I’d barely scratched the surface of what was possible. There were two problems, though.

First, I had spent almost every credit at my disposal, so buying new skills from the Bazaar was out of the question. Even if I went to Anaseteramanimix, the lone [Skillsmith] I counted as a friend, I still couldn’t afford her wares. With the credits I had at my disposal, I wouldn’t even be able to buy a single skill.

Second – and perhaps more importantly – I had no idea what to choose. As far as I knew, there were infinite possibilities, and I had no clue what to pursue. Did I go for something with more combat abilities? I already had more than I could rightly use, but I could easily integrate something useful into my normal repertoire. Did I get something with more utility? I’d seen the sort of things a skilled [Medic] could do. Or a [Pilot]. Or even an [Engineer]. There were hundreds of potentially useful skills out there.

But I couldn’t get them all. I couldn’t fill every niche. Not only was it implausible that I could find the time to train them, but I also knew good and well what was coming. And as much as I wanted to branch out, I couldn’t deny my role in the war of Integration. Becoming an [Engineer] might offer me a chance to branch out, but it would do almost nothing to help keep me alive. Or to win the war I knew was coming.

The one I’d volunteered to fight.

And that dictated that I focus on skills that would help me in combat. Still, there was a choice to be made in that arena as well. Did I go for something like [Acrobatics] where the bulk of the benefit was in passive modifiers? Or did I seek out useful abilities, like was featured with [Combat] or [Fieldcraft]?

I sighed.

The reality was that I didn’t know which way to go, and I wouldn’t until I saw what was available.

With that in mind, I established my priorities. First among them was to earn some credits. To do that, I would need to raid some Rift mining operations. Perhaps I could even raid a Rift or two. Once I had enough, I would buy my new skills. I scrolled back through my notifications until the one I wanted appeared on my HUD:

Warning: You have recently lost four (4) skills. Replace them withing sixty-two (62) days (Planet 2341-M Standard Time) or you will forfeit any attributes exceeding your new, lower potential.

Unlike the first time I’d seen a notification like that, the time frame with this iteration wasn’t really all that onerous. A lot could happen in two months, and even if I failed to meet my goals before the timer ticked down, I would only use a few attribute points. It would be a loss, but not a devastating one. So, while I intended to try to get things done before time ran out, I wasn’t going to do something stupid and put myself in undue danger. Nor would I settle for cheaper skills just so I could save a few attribute points. No – I needed to be smart about this because I knew just how difficult it would be to gain another evolution of my class.

If it was even possible.

I’d had to kill millions of people to reach level seventy-five. Sure, that same feat could be accomplished killing monsters and running Rifts, but that strategy would take decades. What I had just done was not repeatable, even if I wanted to shoulder the burden of guilt that would come with it.

Of course, I wasn’t really sure how true that was.

If I’d turned my attention to mass murder, I could have destroyed dozens of cities a year. I would have killed more low-level innocents than actual combatants, but I could have done it all the same. Would that have resulted in the same level of progression?

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Maybe.

But my instincts told me that wasn’t the case. From everything I had seen, I got far more progress from taking out powerful targets. It just so happened that there were quite a few of those within the population of the Pacificians I’d killed.

Whatever the case, it took far more effort to gain levels the higher I climbed. So, it stood to reason that, going forward, I would see far less progress in that category. In turn, that meant that I might’ve hit my limit in terms of class evolutions.

Or perhaps I was wrong. The reality was that, despite living with the system for years, there was so much I didn’t know. That I would probably never discover.

I moved on from that unproductive line of thought, resolving to ask my friends in the Bazaar about it. In the meantime, I needed to establish the rest of my plan. So, once I’d gathered a nice cache of Rift Shards, I would head back to the Bazaar, sell them, then visit Ana, the [Skillsmith]. Hopefully, I would have enough money leftover to make some upgrades.

I glanced at the still-sleeping Patrick.

I would get him some upgrades, too. After all, he deserved the best, too, and I knew precisely what kind of high-end cybernetics were out there. My own Hand of God was a good example of how I intended to outfit him.

Once we had our equipment, cybernetics, and skill sorted out, I needed to get down to the serious business of training. At the same time, I needed to help Alistaris wherever I could as we set out to prepare for the coming Integration. We couldn’t prevent it, but there was a lot we could do to blunt the edge of the coming sword.

Sighing, I leaned back against the Leviathan’s bulkhead.

There was so much to do, and with the Integration looming less than two years away, it didn’t feel like we had enough time to do it. But there was no choice in the matter. The aliens were coming. Nothing I could do was going to stop that. They would descend upon Earth like locusts and devour everything they saw.

Some, like Alistaris, would have fairly benign intentions, but there were enough of them with the opposite philosophy that there was no chance for peace. If they came, they’d pay for every step with blood. Eventually, it would reach the point where the cost-benefit analysis tipped in favor of leaving Earth to its own devices.

It was a long shot.

I knew it. So did Alistaris. Jermiah had known it, too.

But I was committed, now. And what’s more, I could no longer stomach the idea of running away. All it took was to remember all the horrors I’d seen perpetrated by various aliens – the Castorix, who’d enslaved people with slave implants and specially-made skills, the Pacificians who’d used people as batteries, or the E’rok Tan, who’d bred people as cattle – to know that, regardless of what I had tried to tell myself, retreat had never been a real option.

For a while, I made and discarded plans until, at last, Patrick rose. I watched silently as the blue light of his artificial eye intensified. He let out a groan, then pushed himself upright. Only a second later, he turned to face me.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice still low and raspy from his ordeal. Not only had he lost his legs, arm, and half his face, but he’d also had multiple organs replaced. Even with skilled medical personnel, that kind of thing didn’t go off without a hitch. He would be healing for quite some time.

“It’s actually the middle of the night,” I said, forcing a smile. “You’ve been asleep for almost twenty hours.”

“Oh.”

“How do you feel?”

“Weird,” he admitted, running his hand through his hair. His fingers stopped when they met the metallic half-dome. “That’s going to take some getting used to, no doubt about it.”

“Patrick, I –”

“If you’re about to apologize again, I don’t want to hear it,” he said.

“But –”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“It literally was.”

“You couldn’t have known this was coming,” he said. Shortly after the [Cybernetic Engineer] had finished replacing his limbs, I’d explained everything to him. And I hadn’t pulled any punches, either, telling him great detail about how I’d killed millions. And how I was ultimately responsible for what happened to him. Still, from the very beginning, he had insisted that I was innocent of any wrongdoing. I vehemently disagreed.

“I didn’t even think about it, though. I was too wrapped up in making them pay.”

“And you did. A little collateral damage was always going to happen. Besides, you did what you thought you had to do,” he stated. “We’re at war, Mira. We have been since the very beginning. And people die in wars. It sucks, and nobody wants it to happen, but it’s inevitable. We should do what we can to minimize it, sure, but we’re not just talking about money or land or anything like that. We’re talking about the freedom of our species. This is about our very survival. We have to do what we have to do, make the sacrifices we have to make. That’s just the reality of the world we live in.”

“Under that logic, you can excuse just about anything.”

He shrugged. “Maybe that’s the point. It’s not an excuse, Mira. It’s a reason. Actions and consequences, right? That’s what you always say. With the stakes as high as they are, we can’t afford to hold back. We can’t let ourselves worry about sacrifices. We just have to do what needs to be done. And if a few innocent people die? Then that’s on the aliens for putting us in this position.”

I looked away. He’d never spouted that sort of rhetoric before, so I was a little taken aback. However, I could certainly see the logic behind it. If the stakes included the enslavement or death of the entire human race, then whatever we had to do to avoid that fate was justifiable.

“I’m not sure if I can live like that, Pick.”

“You already are,” he said, leaning forward with his elbows on his cybernetic knees. “Every decision you’ve made, you’ve based on that same reasoning. First, it was killing Nora. That was important, so you did what you had to do. You accepted the consequences. It’s the same with the Pacificians. Don’t even try to tell me you wouldn’t make the same choices if you had to do it over again. You would, and you know it.”

“Maybe.”

In fact, I knew it was true. In each instance, I felt guilt, but I would have still taken the same actions.

“So,” he asked, clearly wanting to change the subject. “What now?”

“Training,” I said. “You need to get used to your cybernetics, and I need to test some things out. I…uh…I evolved my class, so…”

“You evolved? Is that even possible?”

“Apparently so,” I stated. Then, I told him about the choices with which I had been presented, then explained my reasoning for choosing the {Mist Warden} option, ending with, “It just seemed a lot more powerful than the other options. With those requirements, it had to be. And then it merged half my skills. You should see my modifiers now. I mean, I haven’t gained a single attribute point, but I feel like I can probably do twice the damage now.”

“That’s…that’s a little scary, actually.”

I couldn’t really bring myself to disagree with that assessment. I was already capable of untold carnage, and that was before I’d evolved my class. After choosing {Mist Warden} and augmenting my modifiers, I could only imagine the things I could do. Especially after I trained a little.

“Before I can get down to really training, though, we need to earn some credits,” I said, not wanting to dwell on the danger my new, evolved skills represented. “I think I’m going to need new weapons, and I need to fill my remaining four skill slots.”

He shook his head and gave me a tired smile. “That’s insane,” he said. “Four open skill slots. You know that’s more than most people ever get, right? What are you thinking of getting to fill them?”

“I don’t know yet. I have no idea what’s even available. But I do know it’s going to be expensive. And that’s before we worry about you.”

“What about me?”

“I think we should look into upgrading those cybernetics and –”

“No thanks.”

“W-what? Pick, those aren’t the highest –”

“I have plans for these. I was thinking about it before. You know, right after we got back to the Leviathan. This can be an opportunity for me, you know? With the [Cybernetic Engineer] skill, I already get more out of cybernetics than most people. But now that I have so much to work with, I think I can modify these and overclock them. I’m not saying I should never upgrade them,” he said. “But I am saying that I want to experiment as much as I can, then get something using higher-quality materials later on. Heck – I might even be able to make my own stuff.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Maybe. I mean, I know I can do it. I just don’t know if I can make anything as good as what we could potentially buy. And I won’t know until I check things out. Speaking of which – what happened to the workshop?”

“Completely collapsed. You’re the only survivor.”

He sighed, and his lips sagged into a frown. “Kind of guessed that much, but…I mean…having it confirmed…”

I didn’t interrupted. I’d never really liked Cyrilla, but I hadn’t wanted her to die. Besides, she and Patrick had been close enough that her death had to have hit him pretty hard.

“We need to dig it all up,” he said.

“What?”

“The workshop. The mech suit is still in there. So are the leftover Mist circuits. I won’t abandon those,” he stated. “They’ll be critical going forward. And if that armor can survive having a building dropped on it, it’s far more valuable than I expected it to be.”

I nodded, and over the next few minutes, we continued to discuss our upcoming plans. Most of it was just a rehash of things we’d both already said, but it was good to focus on taking steps forward rather than looking back at the past.

In the end, we’d established a plan for the immediate future. Now, all that was left was implementing it.