The aftermath of the Rogue’s awakening still rippled through the clergy of the church. The Sisters moving with nervous quickness as the newly awakened children were expedited from the main hall and into the rear courtyard for further instruction on their new Classes and Skills. Skill Priest Mikael ran a cloth over his brow as he looked towards the Shieldsman again.

“Ah, forgive this old man sir. My mind is wandering again. What was your question again?” He asked nicely.

“Please Father Mikael, just call me Gregor.” The man responded. A slight furrow to his brow that was the only sign of his frustration after trying and failing to chase down the Rogue that was the whole cause of this incident. He was quite professional though. His partner however was not.

“I could have had him.” Bennett said for the umpteenth time that night. Grumbling as he tapped his foot against the floor of the Cathedral. The both of them had returned to the Cathedral along with more Shield Guards to interview witnesses and collect any evidence that may help them find Toby Kincaid. If that truly was his real name.

The Investigators of the Shield Guard had already used their Skills to lift the man’s fingerprints off the Arcstone as well as test the air for his mana signature. Hopefully his records might exist somewhere in their Archives. But that would take time to find out. Time they couldn’t afford to lose if they wanted to catch a member of High Water’s elusive Syndicate.

“What did the Arcstone record about his class details.” Gregor repeated patiently. “It’s imperative that we have some idea of his Skills and Class ability if we’re to find him again.”

“Pardon me sir Gregor, but am I to understand that a newly awakened…escaped?” Mikael asked tentatively.

Gregor’s placid expression turned sour at the reminder. “I’m afraid so sir.” He said heavily.

It was shameful. There was just no denying it. At level one and with only a single attribute point to distribute even if it were put into a speed stat like Agility or Dexterity it shouldn’t have been able to give him such a sizable lead over the guards pursuing him. It burned even more knowing that had he joined the initial group of Shield Guard, with his three points in Agility, he might have been able to overtake the man. But the thought of the Awakened Rogue being a distraction for some greater attack by some splinter Preservationist faction within the Syndicate had been too great a risk to take with so many children present.

He’d stayed behind in the main hall as Toby ran to prevent the crowd from turning into a panicked mob. Making liberal use of his Loud Speaker Sigmata to amplify his voice and calm the crowd. All the while pouring enough mana into his ocular Sigmata, Sharp Eye, to burst a blood vessel as the pattern supercharged his eyesight. The Sigmata mass identifying the Class Archetype of every person present as he searched for threats. Prepared to fend off any twisted Syndicate attack. The complete lack of any follow up disaster was so surprising that he didn’t believe it at first. Was Awakening as a Rogue in the heart of High Water only supposed to be a publicity stunt for the Syndicate? To show the people that their power extended everywhere? Even here?

Gregor thought back on Toby for a moment. He’d only spotted him so quickly after leaving the Cathedral because he’d still had the last of his Sigmata’s enhancement charge burning as he joined the search. He still remembered the naked fear plain as day on his face as he tried explaining himself before leaping into the Skystream. Gregor had almost no idea what he had been rambling about, but he also had a good sense for troublemakers. And Toby hadn’t even registered to him as a possible threat, even as he’d fled. The man just seemed confused and afraid. He had even worn a short-sleeved shirt for Azure’s sake! Making it painfully obvious to the world that he hadn’t a single Sigmata of his own. Not even a simple utility type like Match or Lamp. The first emotion that came to mind when he’d first seen Toby had been pity, truthfully.

It was a commonality in Kanaan to hide parts of the body without Sigmata, some provinces even taking to wearing masks or half masks to cover as much open skin as possible. Lack of Sigmatas translated directly to lack of wealth in many people’s minds. So for what was essentially a lowly pauper to escape High Water’s own Shield Guard? It would only further feed the rumors of incompetency in their ranks since the threat of the Elves escalated along the Thunderwall. Requiring all their higher tier Shieldsmen to help with the defense.

Gregor coughed to hide the pained annoyance in his face. “His Class, Father?”

“Ah yes.” The Skill priest mused. “The class was nothing special, just an uncommon Rogue type called a Cat Burglar.” The Head Priest waved away Gregor’s concern. “The only Skills he’d have access to is Sneak and Pickpocketing. The resulting Skill Tree should be Heist. If I’m not mistaken. His Class’s attribute is Dexterity and the Class Ability relates to finesse and quickness.”

“That would explain his speed.” Gregor said nodding.

“And how slippery the bastard was.” Bennett said in a huff before a smirk pulled at his face. “Serves him right though. Imagine waiting as long as he had only to get a damn Uncommon.”

Gregor turned back towards his partner, gaze piercing before Bennett turned towards the Skill Priest with a flush of embarrassment. “Beg your pardon Father. I didn’t mean to swear.”

The old Priest chortled. “It’s quite alright. Today has been quite trying for all of us I presume.”

Gregor nodded in thanks as he saluted the Priest. Fist over heart. “Thank you for being so direct in helping with this investigation Father Mikael. Whichever branch of the Syndicate is responsible for this farce will be brought to justice. You have my word.”

He turned towards his partner as they made to leave the Cathedral. “The Skystream he leaped into should end somewhere in the Murk District. We’ll start searching there.”

The Priest smiled and bid farewell to the Shield Guards. Mikael turned to the nearby Sister who had been waiting for the conversation to finish and spoke. “Please help me to my chambers dear Sister. This day has been far too taxing.”

“Of course Priest Father.” She said warmly. Taking the old man’s arm she led him through the less crowded and more direct back hallways. Avoiding the still ongoing ceremony of Awakening in the back courtyard. Even if it was just simple instruction on how best to allocate their Skill points to make the most of their Common Classes. After a short walk they arrived at a door that was as unremarkable as all the others in a Cathedral of the Endless Akashic. Mikael patted the young Sister’s arm.

“And if you’d be so kind my dear, could you prepare some wine for me please. With the Empyrean decanter and glass hmm?”

“I will see to it right away Priest Father.” As she opened the door for her senior.

“Thank you kindly Sister.” Mikael said with a warm smile as he entered his private study. A small office lightly furnished with a desk of Rosewood in the center. The moment the door closed however the warm light of Mikael’s eyes was snuffed out as he dropped the mask he’d worn so well for decades. His teeth grinding together as he fought to contain his anger. His fingers twitching for the hilt of the Stiletto hidden within the sleeve of his robes that no holy man would ever be caught carrying.

Marching over to his desk he sat down and brushed aside the letters and forms awaiting his signature. Making room for him to steeple his hands on the desk and glare at the door. Too close. That had been too fucking close. A blatant lie to a man of the Shield Guard who might have been imbued with a Truth Sensing Skill. It had been a gamble on his part guessing the man’s relative experience and lack of rank but he had to make sure that he knew as little as possible about the newly awakened Rogue’s true class. Had he been wrong and if the man posed further questions it would have wasted years of effort working to be promoted to the upper echelons of the church’s clergy. A position that allowed him easy access to information on every newly Awakened’s class choices.

Information the Syndicate found invaluable.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

As for the stupid fuck that just walked into a Church of the Akashic and picked a Rouge class. Mikael’s bared teeth sneered. Not in all his years as a Skill Priest had he seen a man do something so incredibly stupid. The idiot even had the nerve to look surprised as the crowd rose up to mob him. By the Akashic, he had even been chatting up some of the Shield Guard before Awakening! The fucking balls of the man.

But he had done it right in front of him. Even foregoing the sign of the light as he did so. The fucker. Seeing the man’s Class, a rare Class, was almost enough to make him reach out and stab the bastard. But it would have been a hard sell for an aging man like himself, a man of the cloth no less, to gut a man on the altar of his own church.

The creak of the door handle was short, but it was all it took to completely change Mikael’s visage. He brought up his mask of soft-hearted kindness and relaxed his hands as the Church Sister entered the room.

“I have your wine Priest Father.” She said curtly. Placing the multicolored decanter and its matching cup on Mikael’s desk. A expertly crafted work of colored glass, inlaid with fine renditions of flowers found in the Cloud Gardens. A “gift” he had received months ago from an anonymous donor. The Sister poured him a small amount of wine. Then stood and curtsied. “Will there be anything else Father?”

“Oh thank you dear but I’m quite alright.” He said quite convincingly. Keeping every bit of his irritation out of his tone. “Take care Sister. And please tell the others I do not wish to be disturbed.”

“Yes Father.” She said. Taking her leave as she left his study. Mikael waited until he was sure she was long down the hallway before reaching out and pouring more wine into the cup until it almost reached the rim of the glass. Then he carefully paced a finger on an almost lifelike Brightbud and started tracing it along the design on the cup. Releasing the trickle of mana necessary to activate the hidden Sigmata. The intricate working woven into the cup shivered with power as the wine rippled. Once. Twice. Three times. Indicating that the connection had been established and was ready for use.

Mikael had always been willing to sell information to anyone for the right price. He’d made many such dealings with different factions within the Syndicate. The Red Brands, Silk Spinners, even some of those disgusting vermin, in the Maulers. But it had been Blackwater that had given him the most, even promising more as long as he stayed true to them.

As long as he came to them first.

Steadying himself he spoke “This is Father Mikael. I have an urgent message I need to report.” His voice making the wine ripple in the cup.

He waited patiently as he watched the still surface of wine. Then all at once the surface quaked as the Sigmata converted the message from another receiving cup into sound waves. The sound was slightly warped as it used the wine itself as a speaker, but for the purposes of the Syndicate it was a favored means of communication between their spies.

“This is Blackwater. What do you have for us today, Mikael? Some more promising recruits?” A light female voice rippled through the link. “This is Miranda. I’ll receive your report.”

“Miranda…” He said pausing. Steeling himself and hating what he’d have to say next. “I need to talk to Guild Master Vike.”

Utter silence reigned as he waited for a response. When Miranda spoke again the easy tone was gone. Her voice tense, as if he had just asked her to bring him a Spike Viper.

“One moment.”

Mikael took slow breath as he waited. Collecting himself and going over what he was going to say to Blackwater’s Guild Master. The Syndicate was not a unified entity as some of the idiot commoners believed. It was a conglomeration of gangs and guilds. Not really working together so much as refraining to kill each other under a flag of truce. Coming together only so they could split the city amongst themselves. With a majority of the city’s higher leveled defenders being drafted to protect the border against the Elves. It was almost too easy to take advantage of the power vacuum that left behind.

The Blackwater Guild had been one of the lesser known guilds in the city once upon a time. Just a small gang of unruly dockworkers and laborers extorting bribes and smuggling goods. Their first proper leader and guild master had been a man named Daigo. A High Water native of the Murk district as rough and tough as they came. A man good at what he did and content with his station in life. Mikael may not have been a rogue but he understood a man who wanted to survive.

Then Vike had come to High Water. And immediately challenged the lowly guild master of Blackwater for his seat.

Mikael had only heard secondhand accounts of the fight six months ago. But it was still more than enough to keep any thoughts of blackmailing the guild far from his mind. The entire guild had shown up expecting a drawn-out butchering of the young blood by their boss. The fight had lasted fifteen seconds. And it wasn’t Vike’s skill others spoke of, or the ease at which he dodged lethal blows. It was the final moment.

When Vike had drawn a knife hidden at his back. A blade of purest black. A wicked, evil looking thing that ate the light itself. The strike that ended the fight wasn’t a crippling or lethal strike. It was a cut. A small finger length cut along Daigo’s arm.

The entire guild had watched as the hardest man they’d ever known. The guild master who’d held his place for decades. Fell to his knees screaming. Vike had stood over him and watched for a few moments. Looking at the crowd of guild members as if making sure they’d all saw what he’d done. Like a cat presenting its kill. Then as Daigo’s vocal cords tore and his screams became less than human, he picked him up by his hair and opened his throat. Like it was the most casual thing in the world. He hadn’t made any speeches or grand words. He just expected the guild and everyone in it to follow him.

In the span of only a few months Vike had transformed the Guild into something that was almost on par with any other in High Water. Spending coin like they could never run out. Brand new Sigmata for their members, bribes for the Shields, even precious Skill Crystals for those who truly gave themselves to Vike’s vision for Blackwater. Some of the other guilds had even given way to his expansion, being handsomely rewarded for doing so.

Those who refused to bend the knee however…

“This better be good.” A voice rippled through the cup. As cold and grinding as the glaciers that fed the Skystream.

Mikael felt his fear of the man burn hot for a moment before he mastered himself and buried it deep. “T- today we held our awakening ceremony as usual.” Mikael managed to get out. Dammit, when had his mouth dried up?

“Everything was going well until a young man, uh without any Sigmata, picked a Rouge class at the Arcstone.”

“Another guild?” Vise asked. Instantly hostile as a hint of menace creeped into his tone.

“Not from what I could tell sir. His clothing was strange, I doubt I’d ever seen the like before. A dark short sleeved top and matching pants. I’d guessed by his age he was some country bumkin Reservationist but when he picked a Rogue class that guess went out the window.”

“And the class?”

“R-rare sir.” Mikael said swallowing hard. “It’s called a Spellbreaker.”

The silence that filled the room was almost claustrophobic. Mikael had the distinct sense that Vike did not like what he’d heard. The air had a sense of danger to it. As if the man on the other end could reach out and end him despite being on the other end of the city.

“Tell me everything.” Vike finally said.

So, Mikael did just that. Explaining what he’d seen with his ability after the man had communed with the Arcstone. Detailing the three Skills the Class offered as well as the Skill Trees they would create. Mikael hadn’t the faintest clue what kind of Intent the man must have had. A class that was inherently spell resistant at the cost of being unable to cast spells? He didn’t even think that was possible to get an ability with such a large drawback. It was the equivalent of almost crippling yourself to protect yourself from mages. It worked certainly, but it made no sense at all. You were more likely to die from a knife in your back than a fireball.

As he finished speaking the guild master was quiet for several moments and Mikael understood what must have been going through his head. A rare class, even one as specialized as Spellbreaker would only be available if the person receiving it had a strong enough Intent for the Class as well as a measurable amount of life experience. You couldn’t just wait a few years and be guaranteed a higher rarity Class as some fools believed. You had to spend those years learning, training, and expanding your knowledge. Commoners could luck into an Uncommon class through Intent alone but the divide between the lessers and the greaters of the world was reliant on how much they honed themselves and understood about the world around them.

For example: A simple Water Mage could draw water from the air through sheer force of will. But a learned one would make much more following their understanding of water, oftentimes forming a pattern the academics called a “molecule”. A concept that was highly guarded among the nobility and one Mikael still couldn’t wrap his head around. And if he couldn’t understand something as simple as water then that meant whoever the Rogue from today was he wasn’t just some street rat. An education meant he’d have connections to the nobility, connections that could prove dangerous to Blackwater’s operations.

“Keep me notified if anyone starts asking around. He’s mine until I can get what I want from him. I don’t care if he’s the son of the Duke himself.” Vike said finally. And Mikael could almost hear the smile in his voice as he said. “Everyone starts talking after the cutting starts.”

Mikael swallowed. Glad the man on the other end of his call couldn’t see him sweat. “Yes sir. I’ll see it done, Guild Master.”

“Good.” The shimmering script that animated the water fell still as the connection was cut. Mikael leaned back in his chair letting his hands fall limp at his sides. Ordinarily he’d have discussed the payment he deserved for giving away such vital information. But common sense ruled that out when talking to the Guild Master. He gave a wary look to the full cup of wine before reaching for it. Downing it all in one long pull. With a shake of his head, he set the cup down and refocused himself. Taking the decanter of wine and pouring another cup.

“Poor bastard.” Mikael said to himself. Almost feeling sorry for the man. The Spellbreaker would still be only level one. All of his Skills would still be level one.

He had no way of escaping what was coming to him.