Plato glared at the moon atop the battlements on the Northern wall. After several days of waiting, he hardly even bothered to stare out into the countryside. His hope that his friend would return and explain himself had dwindled over the past days. David had not returned to New Chicago following Alex Moore’s Achievement.
Plato had concluded that he should’ve returned to David, instead of waiting for the man to come to him. He knew his brother well enough to realize that he was either falling into a pit of self-loathing or his self-control was slipping. In either case, David needed help, no matter what his Fulcrum told him.
Condemning David for not returning would be easier, but Plato could only blame himself as he stared at the Achievement that shouldn’t have come so soon. The trip out to New Chicago was dangerous for a noncombatant, but he had spent decades learning to Imitate the ways of illusionists.
The mixture of Defense Forces and Academy personnel that normally kept vigil gave Plato a wide berth, well aware that none of them would see an approaching threat before him. They had learned their lesson after he snapped at a poor kid who had just wanted to ask a few questions.
Plato had resolved to seek the Neophyte out in the morning, but he would not leave his vigil for hours yet. There was still a chance David might return home before breaking through. The Unique Achievement could only be him, but just because he could reach Tier 4 at any time didn’t mean he would rush.
Plato was too late to go and find him if he chose to begin his ascension immediately. The dog cursed his decision to remain Tier 2 for perhaps the hundredth time at the thought.
He had been dragging his feet, putting off a decision that he had already made.
A problem to rectify in the morning. Tonight he would keep watch.
It was nearly midnight when Plato was next disturbed. A slight tug on his aura pushed his focus away from his side. The manipulation was deft, but a poor choice to overcome the specific nature of Plato’s Ability. Plato couldn’t overcome the will that pushed his focus away, but he could easily tell that he was being forced to ignore something. He felt relieved by the intrusion, more than annoyed.
“I’ve told you before, that trick doesn’t work,” Plato sighed. Centuries of life spent with illusionists had inured him to their jokes, not even a flicker of annoyance showed in his eyes as his head turned to face David. The man had circumvented his aura, but the eyes were harder to defeat by redirecting focus.
David shook his head, “How you manage to see through a Legendary mana type with a Rare never ceases to amaze me. I had hoped this most recent improvement would be enough.”
The confirmation that the Unique Achievement was his did not go unnoticed, but Plato didn’t bother to congratulate him.
“You didn’t return to the city after what you did to Alex,” The scholar accused, “I’ve been waiting for nearly a week.”
“I had work to do. The experience helped me solidify my control of environmental mana.”
Plato had to hold back a frustrated snarl that would’ve looked ridiculous on the face of a friendly golden retriever. The response was deliberately obtuse, avoiding promises made, “That is not what we agreed.”
David didn’t bother concealing his wince as he nodded. Plato was well aware that no one else could see or hear their conversation, likely the only reason that his brother was willing to speak on this at all.
Instead of replying, David made a series of gestures. His chest opened, and a miniature altar floated out. The cavity closed behind it.
If not for the massive gulf of power separating them, Plato might have attacked the object. The knowledge that it would bring nothing but enmity held him back, and he instead examined it.
The Fulcrum had changed, over the past few years. David had promised that he would work on transforming the altar, but it seemed that he had only been partially successful. How much had he been changed in turn?
The most obvious difference was the damage. A crack ran down the left side, proof that David had made a rare mistake.
The relief Plato had been feeling waned, replaced by annoyance. David hadn’t returned to speak before breaking through, he’d returned because he couldn’t break through. The Fulcrum was already an imperfect match and the damage would only make it worse. Even David’s sublime control couldn’t overcome both of those flaws.
“I still do not have the resources to design anything better,” David stated.
Plato didn’t respond at first. They’d discussed the relative value of suitability and power several times. If David remained convinced it was worth the risk, words would not sway him.
“I am unsure how long it will take to fix it,” David sighed.
“Time spent on repairs is not spent aligning it with your intentions,” Plato reminded him, “You would be better off starting from scratch and working to improve the quality of a less disgusting Fulcrum.”
“It would take too long,” David disagreed.
“You have a century,” Plato sighed, “Focusing on the Race can only hurt you.”
“The monsters surrounding us are growing stronger. Regardless of the Race, I need to advance.”
It was the reason they’d left the city. David had realized that the people of New Chicago weren’t improving fast enough, and he needed to push himself further to compensate. He’d succeeded, but the city had only continued to stagnate in his absence.
Now, it was too late for any but the first generation of Imprinted to reach Tier 4 before Tier 4 monsters appeared.
David’s dream of stabilizing Earth was fading. Alex Moore was too young, and the champions of the other civilizations in the Competition were moving too quickly. The Race was on pace to be won before the halfway point, and David might have to leave Earth without adequate protection if he wanted to win.
Plato knew what he had to do. When he told David his plan, the man agreed.
The David of years long gone would’ve been more reluctant, but he’d changed after decades spent wondering if his world was doomed to fail.
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It was time for Plato to change as well.
*****
Plato of the Lunar Pack stood atop the walls of New Chicago, waiting for his mother to respond to his call. She did not keep him waiting long, David had given him the rewards for a Tier 0 Unique Realm Achievement to use as payment before he left to meet with the Dean.
“Prodigy…” He felt the comforting presence of a fellow canine rub against his side, and his mother’s voice whispered in his ear, “How amusing. To think, the Path hid such a reward.”
“Is he enough for you to act?” Plato was surprised that his mother hadn’t already known, but he could use that. The knowledge was worth even more than he’d thought. He spoke aloud, but none were close enough to hear him.
It wasn’t the first time Plato had begged his mother to save the family and friends he’d found on this planet. She would be punished, but not too harshly. High-tier mages brought refugees out of the lower planes constantly. It wasn’t technically allowed during the Arrival period, but no rule was absolute..
He found it difficult to believe that one more talent would be enough to plug the holes in a ship that was already all but sunk. Even if the kobolds didn’t assault New Chicago, the ooze would eventually reach them.
“The opposite, I’m afraid.” His mother sighed, “The Trialbringer normally doesn’t mind when we save talented newcomers, but what we know of the child’s Achievement makes it clear that interference on that scale will not be allowed. The backlash could cause problems on a scale you are not yet ready to understand.”
Plato took a deep breath. He hadn’t expected to receive a positive response, and he couldn’t focus too much on the reason. His mother had confirmed that it was time for him to step up. His brother didn’t need scholars to survive the coming monsters.
He stared at unfamiliar stars, knowing that this was the sky his mother had gazed upon in her youth. The image had to be part of his repayment.
A fascination for celestial objects ran in his blood, even after millions of years his mother’s memory had not faded.
His focus turned inward, to the mana types he had perfected over the decades. They yearned to be imprinted upon his soul, calling him to greater things. Gaining power always showed you how much you needed more. He went over them, already knowing which one would need to change.
Learn, the foundation of his being. A mana type he had gained at Tier 1 nearly effortlessly. From the first conversation he’d ever shared with his mother, to the conversation with the young Prodigy only days before, his motivations were encapsulated by this mana type. It was why he had managed to push it to Epic, despite his low tier. Learn was his, in a way that nothing else could hope to match.
Guide, a mana type he had formed with his mother’s help. Designed to emulate David’s ability to assist the younger generation on Earth. It was the mana type of a scholar, a teacher, a professor. The exact mana the Lunar Pack wanted. It would make him a fitting custodian for their library.
Imitate, his last mana type. The one that his mother had half-heartedly cautioned him against. It reflected a different part of his character, one that didn’t fit the recent pacifist leanings of his ancestors. It was the mana type of a scholar who yearned to emulate the mythological figures of the world he lived in.
Even Imitate was far from aggressive. He’d never tried to create anything that would be particularly useful in a fight.
He’d been sheltered by David’s power.
He was a golden retriever. A domestic canine.
A pet.
But his mother was a wolf. A hunter by nature.
A monster.
“I believe that this is my fault,” His mother sighed. One of the benefits of her tier was the expressiveness with which she spoke. Far more was communicated by her presence than by her words, “I tried to make you like her. I told myself that by watching the growth of a scholar, I could better understand why my cousin reached Tier 8, while I failed.”
“But you aren’t her son,” The regret was replaced by excitement. A savage glee that promised violence Plato wasn’t sure he was comfortable with, “You’re mine.”
Plato had grown up surrounded by illusionists, but he’d always preferred to be straightforward. His mother had seen through his intentions. It was time to move forward, “I can’t watch as my brother’s planet falls. If you won’t save David’s people, I will.”
He snarled up at the moon, lamenting the lack of fierceness in his appearance. Golden retrievers weren’t the least intimidating dogs, but even on his best day, he couldn’t match the threat his mother exuded without trying.
“I want to become part of the pack,” Plato stated, “A Lunar Wolf, not a dog.”
“It will cost me,” His mother mused, “But you could say that this is me rectifying a mistake. It’s not like the Trialbringer can complain, you paid quite handsomely for my assistance.”
Plato felt a rush of guilt at the realization that his mother would suffer for helping him improve his bloodline, but he couldn’t back down now that he had asked.
“Imitate is so very disappointing, as a mana type,” The wolf sighed, “What is the point of Imitation when you stand at the top? What is the point of power that assumes you never will?”
“I was cautioned against violence,” Plato reminded her.
He could feel the distaste in her aura at the reminder, “Another mistake I will answer for when you surpass this plane. For now, let me show you power worth Imitating.”
He watched, as in the sky above a wolf appeared. She was larger than Earth itself. The moons and stars in the sky would alter their trajectories to rotate around her if she willed it.
The wolf showed off her fangs, growling menacingly. Plato felt a surge of instinctive fear, even though he knew that his mother would not harm him.
Then the wolf bounded towards a planet surrounded by asteroids. A single leap crossed vast distances, and the wolf halted next to a moon that she dwarfed. Then, with a single bite, the moon vanished down the wolf’s throat.
He wasn’t truly present, and the sky wasn’t real, but it was enough.
His mother was right, that was power worth Imitating.
Plato’s Mana Body began to shift, even as the insight he held evolved to become less general. Why would he need to Imitate the mythos of this world, when his mother could do that? He did not need to fake it, to pretend to be something else.
He had been born a golden retriever through the cosmic joke that had seen his people the carriers of their own leashes. The taming of monsters meant to devour celestial objects
He was a wolf of the Lunar Pack. The first son of the second Alpha. He didn’t need to Imitate.
He would Devour his enemies.
On the walls of New Chicago, an Imprinting began. Golden fur was shed and rounded fangs were sharpened. The desire to Learn and to Guide joined with his new power, and a rush of energy came from his mother to help with the transformation.
It took only minutes, but the scene roused several soldiers to run to the wall and watch as Plato underwent a fundamental change.
The Imprinting finished, and a few of the men stepped forward to congratulate him. He recognized Commander Silver, one of the city’s many illusionists, at the front.
“That was… impressive.” The man complimented, making no move to pet Plato behind the ears as he had so many times before.
Plato grinned at him and was surprised when some of the soldiers recoiled. He had forgotten, for a second, that he had the bearing of a predator now, “It was a long time coming. Our world needs warriors. The pacifism of my ancestors rings hollow when billions of men and women have died defending Earth.”
“Your ancestors approve?” Silver was one of the few who knew the other reason Plato had never acted to defend the city. He was here as a noncombatant, and fighting to defend them would risk backlash on his mother.
He remembered the fierceness in her words, “As long as it’s just me acting, the Trialbringer will not punish her too harshly,” he replied, “She is willing to accept the cost.”
“Well then,” Commander Silver smiled at Plato, “As an Imprinted acting in defense of the city, I suppose you now outrank me.”
“I haven’t enlisted yet, Commander.”
“I’m sure the men and I don’t care too much about that formality, General Plato.” Silver’s grin widened. He snapped off a salute, with his men rapidly following suit. None of the rest of them fully understood the exchange that had just taken place, but the news that another Imprinted was joining the Defense Forces was more than enough for them to happily mimic their commander.
Plato’s menacing grin grew, a few near the back of the squad shivered a bit at the sight. He’d spent long enough watching as friends and family died, unable to interfere beyond teaching and guidance.
“Report back to the Lemmings,” Plato turned back to face the outside, “I will watch the walls for tonight.”
A few seconds later, he was alone again, staring up at the moon. His mother had shown him what had once been the most honored tradition of their people, when full grown.
The smile of a predator looking at prey grew on his lips, and Plato howled at the sky above.