The Nexus entered a heightened state of alert upon the awakening of the 7th Archetype. Congratulatory System messages were displayed to the Blessed who were currently within the Nexus.
Confused faces stared absently at the air. Receptionists, Moons, Stars and even the Beholders were not immune to the sudden appearance of the prompt. Coffee cups fell, and people ran into pillars as they read the words:
“The sum of 2,000 Nex will be paid directly to all Blessed currently within the Nexus. Thank you for patiently waiting through the various maintenances. Please collect them at the Reception when you receive the confirmation message.”
They were handsomely compensated for the constant tremors that plagued the Nexus. But this was not why they were surprised.
“Did you receive a message too?”
“Looks like we weren’t the only one.”
Everyone within the Nexus was bewildered by the message that was sent to them. It was impossible to receive a message from the Blessing of the Nexus unless it was a warning, intended or associated with a Skill.
Their natural response of a Blessed to seeing a sudden prompt was to act. The blue screen was like a shot of adrenaline, activating the flight or fight response of countless. This was why the tension was so high.
Upon reading it closely, motion soon to them returned as murmurs spread like a wildfire.
“Did someone send us this message? Was it always possible to send messages? Or this just from the Blessing itself? The Reception’s messages don’t look like this.”
“If it was possible then what the hell are we still using letters for?”
Murmurs soon morphed into a sea of conversations as they voiced their curiosities. Stores that had closed for the day were suddenly brought back open to take advantage of the sudden influx of spendable Nex, although they would first have to be received at the Reception when they were called by the Blessing.
Speaking of the Receptionists – it was normally their job to announce such changes. In fact, broadcasting such messages was the sole power of the Reception.
They were noticeably wary by the sudden prompt as their minds went to dark places. Amongst the regular Blessed, the Receptionists knew well how the Ateliers functioned.
While the Blessed venerated them during days of celebration or whenever high-ranking personnel walked through these pale halls, the Receptionists remained reserved and treaded carefully even though they were guaranteed immunity within the Nexus.
“Psst. Oi. What was that?” A wolf-eared woman beckoned the one dozen Receptionists into a grand, fluffy huddle. “I guess I wasn’t only one that got that weird message seeing how quickly you all responded.”
“The compensation?” A droopy-eyed dog-girl yawned. She shook her head, causing her floppy ears to slap her face. “Ow…”
“No you idiot. Don’t use the colorblind excuse because you’re a dog. Or did you fall asleep while standing around again?” A rabbit-eared Receptionist scolded the dog-girl with crimson eyes.
She had her ears slicked back and tied into a bow for her ponytail.
“Uh…?”
“Go easy on her. We’re all in the same boat. Unless for some reason you think she’s an outlier.” An Avian man defended her. “Ahem. Can you confirm what you saw?”
“Immediate. Retraining. And. Reclassification. I. Have. No. Idea. What. It. Means.” Each word was spoken from a separate flower-like mouth that peeked through the suit a Verdanian woman.
They harped in random, harmonic tones like a cappella.
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“Culling? Likely. Not. Head. Seems. Too. Cute. To. Bully. And. Tread. On. Small. Flowers. Jury. Lucky.”
“None of us think it’s the Head. They’ve let us do our own thing ever since they arrived.” The Wolfwoman growled. “Scratch that. They’ve been reliant on us managing the Blessed. I don’t see why they’d suddenly call for our retraining, let alone whatever the hell Reclassification means. We didn’t do anything wrong. Fuck. If I look at the paperwork, see the fucking Golden Ring or Pinky’s insignia and an Atelier destination, then *clap* yeah, that’s the end of the road for me.”
She put her foot down. There was nothing a Receptionist of the Nexus despised more than to work for an Atelier.
“Yeah, I’d rather work as the Reception of a Guild than to get sent to an Atelier location.” Another chimed in.
They bickered amongst themselves, unaware of an approaching presence. A tall, old man wearing a monocle silently observed. He was dressed precisely like them, but five of his black buttons were replaced with extravagant golden buttons.
Each button represented the number of decades a Receptionist has served the Nexus. The others had one or two at most.
The underlining of his two-piece suit was also crafted using high-quality cloth from Act X.
A faint, blue glow could be seen within his sleeves if one was lucky enough to catch a glimpse.
His attire was spotless. Not a single crease nor speck of dust sullied his wear. His grey hair was combed to one side, and his large mustache partially covered a deep scar on his lip.
This man was Charon, a once esoteric guide of the Subderma Layer that found himself at odds with CogitO after his failure to ferry them across one of its grand subterranean rivers. By some twist of fate, he encountered the Ex-Grey Incandescent Color, the Grey Maid, and vividly recalled how that river drank the blood of those CogitO members.
“Wait, Sir! Boss! Man! You’re also being retrained?” He was finally noticed by a Vampire girl.
“Ashamedly. Hmm. Isn’t it too soon to speculate that we will be sent off?” He spoke in a calm, assuring manner. It was the kind one would expect of an old man. “Keep in mind that various families have been integrated into Time Reverberation’s Workshop.”
He was only human, but he was deeply respected by the Demi-humans even without his Blessed status. Their mouths shut when he spoke, and their ears turned to him like he was a figure worthy of being heard.
“Right. Seven families moved into Time Reverberation’s Workshops. Boss! Sir! Are we being moved internally? Should we start considering moving from the Residential Floors?”
“Better question – Will this affect our families in Atlas?”
Receptionists very rarely consisted of outsiders. There were entire lineages dedicated to becoming Receptionists. It was a blood-tied role and venerated since one did not require to be a Blessed to be granted access to the Nexus.
“It never will unless something drastic happens. Let’s not doubt the Nexus’ intentions.”
These families were far and few in between and lived in walled gardens, enjoying daily luxuries that the rest of the world would never see in their lifetime. Though it was arguable if this was worth the rigorous and cruel training that one required to become a Receptionist in the first place.
Often, aspiring Receptionist would be sent off to Academies whilst simultaneously undergoing training. The Ancilla Association, who outsourced their personnel to various rich families and kingdoms as third-party servants, usually oversaw their progress and reported back relevant bodies.
The Golden Dawn was another Association that facilitated their education, granting them scholarships into their Magic Academies.
The actual governing body of the Receptionists then crept into the conversation.
“I have heard that your message entailed drastic changes. Fortunately for us, I have been given some clarity on the matter. It seems that Ereshkigal has been called.”
“Who?”
“You definitely went to Receptionist school too! That’s the founding Receptionist of the Nexus! And the last Grey Incandescent Color until that whole debacle with the CogitO.”
“So what happens to us? Are we going to be retaught by her directly?”
“It’s unconfirmed.” Charon gazed at his prompt, reading it with an indiscernible expression. “But as I said, the cause for alarm is unneeded. Ereshkigal’s return is one of many we have been seeing over the past months…”
“W-Why did you trail off all of a sudden?”
“Sir. Please. Tell. Us. We. Are. Worried.”
He paused for a moment as several Stars and Moons rushed past.
It seemed that they had also received a unique prompt.
“… Ahem. We’re being specifically called by an Archetype.”
“U-Us!?”
“Why us!?”
“Wait, is that a good thing or a bad thing!?”
“Shh! Let him finish!”
“… The Archetype of Ego extends their invitation towards all relevant Receptionists for Retraining and Reclassification. ‘Receptionists are the mediators between the Nexus and the Blessed.’ They could not have worded it better. As you have heard, our roles as Receptionists are in secure hands. I’m pleasantly surprised. What more can and should a Receptionist do?”
He asked himself as he looked up at the dome of the Common Hub. Within was fresco of various ancient figures of the Nexus. All beholders, Archetypes, Stars and Moons were drawn on that mural to immortalize them.
The Receptionists were no exception either, but they were a blip in comparison to all.
“Let us answer the invitation of the Archetype of the Floor of Ego. It is in our best interest. I dare not imagine what declining an Archetype’s grace would entail. Ladies and gentlemen, this will be a historical first.”
The Receptionists were one of many that were summoned into the Upper Sanctums. All Beholders, Stars, Moons, Black Wings, and high-ranking Healers were immediately called into the Amalgam’s Summit for an emergency meeting.
It was supposed to be a place where only few trusted could enter.
But now, it served as the Nexus’ Round Table in times of dire importance.