Blake opened his eyes in the gloom of the Maker’s Hall, feeling empty and alone. But also unafraid. You couldn’t fix a problem until you knew what it was, and now he did.

Blake wasn’t good enough.

He’d been living on charm and luck most of his life, unable to face his childhood, unable to feel gratitude for the things he had, to see others as he saw himself. He supposed he always knew, deep down, and just didn’t care. Now he did.

He wept in the dark and breathed, a little angry, a little curious. Whatever else Blake was he was a curious creature, and couldn’t help but ask himself the same question over and over amidst the emotional turmoil:

Why suddenly the epiphany? Why had he been feeling so strange ever since he came to this ridiculous new world?

He supposed, in a way, the answer didn’t matter. Either he was going mad, or getting closer to knowing himself, or being influenced by some power beyond his control.

What he knew for certain was that he didn’t want to walk through that door, to ask to be judged without being ready—without first judging himself.

He pulled up his profile and stared at Mental Partition. It wasn’t perfect, of course, but he decided it was the best he could do. He would take the things he didn’t want to define him, and bury them there.

Powers went first. He took Mental Influence and Mind Control, staring long and hard before he dropped them into the partition. He could always bring them back, of course, it didn’t really stop him, but it was still something. He was a Psion and there was nothing he could do about that. But then he wasn’t sure he would if he could. It wasn’t the class that bothered him, not in itself.

Even the powers he’d moved weren’t wrong, exactly. He just knew he couldn’t currently handle the temptation. Not yet.

Better to wait. To re-build himself in a direction less prone to corruption, less likely to make him take the easiest way. What that meant, exactly, he still wasn’t sure. But he was getting keen to find out.

He laughed suddenly, aware he was having some kind of emotional therapy session while his life was at risk—while he was buried two layers deep in dungeon being hunted by an orc king and supposed to be saving Ilya and himself. But he imagined such things never arrived when it was convenient.

Blake stood in the darkness and stared out at the colored lanes, recognizing the Arcane affinity symbol instantly. The lack of choice vaguely annoyed him, but he suspected no matter what he did this thing was going to decide. All this nonsense was just decoration.

A piece of him rebelled, angry at all authority, angry at anyone who told him what to do. Who the hell was this alien thing to judge him? What did it know about his life, about what being a living thing meant, trapped on some damn murderous planet with no safety, no power, nothing but what you invented for yourself?

He stared at the path and clenched his fists, knowing it was really himself he was angry at. Angry at a life constructed around someone else. Around a lie. Angry at first at bad luck and then at good luck, feeling always out of control, always at the whim of fate whether good or bad, with no real choices of his own.

But he knew all he could do was face it. Step after step, Blake walked into the larger portion of the hall, following the blue light towards a pedestal beyond. He stepped off the ‘lane’ and into the room. The door slammed shut behind him.

* * *

“You stand in the Hall of the Makers. What makes you think you are worthy?” echoed a disembodied voice. Blake shook his head, not comforted by the fact he’d been right about what lay ahead.

“Nothing,” he said, staring at the wall. “Except I’m here.”

It didn’t answer, and he was glad for that. He wasn’t sure he had the stomach to argue for himself—to debate some synthetic God about who he was and what he deserved. Instead he stared at a glowing blue orb floating above the pedestal he’d seen.

He saw something inside of it—something too small to be seen from a distance, so he stepped forward trying to understand. It looked like some kind of tiny movie, or maybe an opera so far away he needed a magnifying glass. Whatever it was, he had to see.

Before he’d stopped to think about it, or look over at the strange ball of clay on the table beside, Blake had the orb in his hand.

[Orb of Transcendence activated. Receiving unique Prestige Class based on all available data. Please do not drop the orb.]

Blake gasped as his body locked like he was being electrocuted. He clenched every muscle, hand in a frozen grip on the orb. Warmth flooded up and down his body like he was being washed. Or scanned…

[Unique Prestige Class formulated: Maker’s Apprentice. Implementing.]

[You have gained a Prestige Class! Maker’s Apprentice. +2 to all statistics.]

[Power synergy discovered! Psionic Construct upgraded to Psionic Making.]

[Unique class power gained: Dichotomy of Ambition. First, selfishness; then, greatness. Modification Power.]

[Title gained: Powerful friends. You gained a prestige class before earning a secondary class. +2 luck]

Title gained: Pretty Prestigious: You have gained a prestige class before the vast majority of players. +1 to all statistics.]

[Affinity gained: Psionic, in addition to Arcane.]

[Congratulations! You have discovered a hidden affinity.]

[Title gained: Doing it my way. Gain a non-standard affinity. +2 to a random statistic.]

Finally the magic paralysis ended, and Blake examined his gains, smiling. He looked at himself, feeling stronger and healthier than…well, ever. Even his mind felt more clear…more calm, and under his control.

He wasn't sure exactly what he'd wanted, but he knew what he'd been afraid of. He had expected the system to see all his mind controlling and double down—to give him greater and greater temptations to control everyone around him.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

He did it to help. Or at least that's what he told himself. And there was truth in it, too. But deep down he knew it wasn't the only reason. He did it because it was easier, yes, but also because he was afraid.

Whether the old world or the new, he had always feared that without his charm, without his 'powers' of persuasion or flattery or intimidation, that people wouldn't listen to him. Wouldn't care about him. That he'd be helpless. That he'd be nothing.

And though he didn't yet understand his new powers or prestige class, he had a feeling it was giving him another path. A path to build something on his own. No one to hurt, no temptations to lead him astray. At least in theory...

But there was time to explore his new powers. First, he moved to the strange, floating clay ball on the other pedestal and walked around it examining. Maybe it was another sort of Mana Gem? But Mason gave him the impression the item both and he and Carl had gotten were substantial. Like a major, almost class defining artifact, especially in the case of Carl.

Blake supposed it wasn't worth much speculation. He knew exactly what was going to happen here, and there wasn’t much point in delaying it. He reached out and took the ball.

[You have received Primordial Clay. Hath not the potter power over the clay? To make one vessel unto honor, and another unto dishonor?]

[Do you wish to attune the Primordial Clay?]

Blake was pretty sure that item description was a bible quote. His parents had half-heartedly tried to raise him Catholic, but he wasn’t remotely religious. Still, for some reason it struck him in that moment.

He took a deep breath and accepted the attunement, and again his body froze with violent energy, the pain an almost welcome thing to distract his churning mind. When it was over he watched as the item appeared in his vision like it had always been there.

The little ball floated up before his eyes, spinning like a planet before two circles appeared on its surface. The circles deepened and reformed with a thin covering and little lines. Then the covering hardened and turned a darker color before snapping open.

The clay opened its eyes, and stared.

"Uh. Hello there," Blake said.

The orb...squeeked?

[Please select Primary Clay Form,] the system intoned in his mind. [Familiar mode. Or Protector mode.]

A visual image of both 'modes' formed in Blake's mind. The 'familiar' was basically just a floating orb, not so different than the thing looked now. But little graphs and charts seemed to indicate it could help him with spells and a variety of tasks.

The protector looked like...well, like a little person. He was pretty sure the orb would be easier to hide and carry around, and he suspected his new Psionic Making would be more combat oriented. He took the Familiar.

The orb again started to reform and change shape, until the thing had a mouth and a bit more definition, until it looked like a floating Japanese robot made for kids.

"Hello..." Blake said again. "Can you talk now?"

The little eyes blinked and looked around as if confused, then widened as the thing grinned at Blake with a tiny, round mouth.

"Oh, yes!" it said with a childish voice. "Thank you, master, for giving me life!"

"You're quite welcome," Blake smiled. "Now what can you do for me?"

"So many things!" The little orb spun in an excited circle. "I can see things, and I know things, and I can do quite a lot. Er, at least a few things. Actually I have no idea if what I can do is a lot or a little. But I can't wait to get started!"

Blake apparently had a new 'Familiar' tab near his profile and pulled it up with a thought. His eyes widened as he saw the list. Apparently his orb could do quite a lot.

First and foremost, it had something called 'Analysis', which said it could clone both civilian and player versions of identification powers. That alone would have made Blake happy.

But it could also apparently help with his powers—enhancing some, modifying some, even using some for him, whatever exactly that meant. It could hide and shield itself. And even if it was destroyed, could be reformed with time.

He could also transform it to its 'protector' shape whenever he wished, it just cost him mana.

"I guess you're going to need a name." Blake grinned, enjoying watching the little thing spin and bob with excitement. "How about uh…” he thought of the almost childish, giddy voice and grinned, thinking back to an old favorite videogame. “How about Navi?”

"Oh yes, wonderful name, Master! Do you need my help now? Oh I just can't wait to do something!"

"Don't worry," Blake said, walking towards the door. He thought of Ilya trapped somewhere, and all the work and testing he had to do now, and how much mana it would surely require. Not for the first time, he wished he had Seul-ki down here. "I have plenty for you to do."

* * *

Blake ignored a curious Lumiere as he walked back out into the main hall. First things were first. He checked his profile.

Blake Nimitz

Level: 9

Class: Psion

Prestige Class: Maker’s Apprentice

Strength - 6

Dexterity - 6

Vitality - 8

Intellect - 11

Will - 9

Presence - 15

Luck - 48

Titles: Alpha01, Alpha Tester, Patron, Killer, Puppet Master, Orc Whisperer, Phase Jumper, Deus ex magicka, Powerful friends, Pretty Prestigious

Powers: Mental Influence (enhanced), Telekinesis, Meditation, Mind Control, Arcane Affinity* (Adaptive Veil), Arcane Blast, Dream Walk, Psionic Shield, Mental Partition, True Making, Duality of Ambition

Things were definitely improving, which should have put Blake in a rather good mood. But his situation wasn't exactly ideal.

"What's the way out of here? Other than that corridor I came from." He gestured, and Lumiere frowned and glanced around the hall.

"There's no other entrance. Or at least there shouldn't be. But there's been some…damage in the northwest section. It's where the critters get through."

Oh. A demon hole, Blake thought. Fantastic.

"Show me."

Lumiere unhappily obeyed, shining his light forward until Blake found the 'entrance' in question. It was a circular hole about as tall as a man, and looked like a tunnel to hell covered by a sewer grate. The stink alone sent Blake back a step, the vague brown and pink colors reminding him of a tunnel of rotting flesh. He reached for the gate before Lumiere shrieked in alarm.

"Don't touch, please. The grate isn't ours. I don't know who or what made it but touching it might...be bad."

Blake squinted, and looked at Navi’s powers. "You got your first job, little guy." He activated 'Analysis.'

[Gate. Iron. Very rusty.]

Blake knocked on one of the bars with his knuckles and clucked his tongue. He saw no lock or any way to open it, like it had been sealed and basically fused into the entrance from the other side. Telekinesis wasn't likely strong enough to rip it open. And he doubted he could 'animate' it and tell it to open like he had the last gate, since it had no mechanism to do it.

"Just nothing for it," he said with a sigh, though in truth he felt excitement. "We're going to have to experiment."

He supposed he could charge another of the statues in the armory, but he needed to test his powers anyway. Psionic Making seemed a good place to start before he worried about trying to 'modify' it with whatever the hell Duality of Ambition and his new pet did. He hoped he had the same level of control as before.

Could he make something strong enough to smash an iron gate? That seemed kind of a tall order. But maybe between it and Telekinesis they could manage. He took a deep breath, starting to realize he was delaying the inevitable.

"OK," he whispered, opening his powers, forcing himself to accept why he was concerned. "I gave up becoming some kind of Mind Controlling mastermind for this...so. Here we go...let's see if we can...pull some metal out of some rock..."

The newly 'synergized' power seemed largely the same as before. The world glowed with possibility, and he could animate anything from the gate to his clothes and a nearby broom.

Except now...he blinked...now there was an option to 'Make' instead of animate. And it didn't need any source at all. He picked that.

As before his mana took an instant hit. Then a kind of 'design' screen opened before him. It was like making a character in an RPG, except he could pick the shape and appearance of the thing with shockingly wide possibility. He felt momentarily overwhelmed, not at all sure where to start before he saw a few 'presets'.

The first looked more or less human. Then there was something like a walking table, which he guessed was designed to carry things. The third was tiny and had wings—maybe it was some kind of carrier pigeon? Blake couldn't help but get excited at it all, but for now it was time to just get something useful. He picked the humanoid, and the same 'slider' for duration appeared.

He slid it back and forth, then stopped and blinked when he reached the end.

Holy shit. It said permanent.

"Uh, Navi?"

"Yes Master?"

"How much do you know about my Psionic Making power?"

"Quite a lot, Master. What would you like to know?"

Blake smiled, looking at the little details of the humanoid he could modify, wondering if he should give it more arms.

"I want to know everything.