“Sir knight will not let us head out, Sybil. Not while his familiar’s still being repaired. Calm down.”

“But we have to-.” She grumbled.

“The cave’s going nowhere.”

Damon remained seated, quietly observing the two argue.

“The gaper will have its rebirth soon. We should move before that.”

“And who stays protecting the village?” Handrondi crossed his arms.

“It’ll only be a day or four.”

“And if it rains?”

Sybil’s back straightened, her face hidden behind the cowl and hood, but it was clear she was hesitating. “It’s different now.”

“Is it? We didn’t come here for anything regarding Janus. That would be secondary to our goal.”

“I…”

Damon mocked a cough, startling the other two out of the deadlock of half-glares. They both jumped, clearly having forgotten he’d been right there. “If it isn’t too much to ask. I’d like to know more about the user guide? I'll rest up after that. You obviously have your own things to deal with.”

Sybil wavered, glancing between the two before speaking up. “I’ll go talk with the knight and her daughter about the cave. We need more information about where Damon woke up.” She declared, turning to leave.

Handrondi didn’t move to stop her, letting out a grimace when the door closed. “She… has her own situation to handle.”

“I’m not interested in prying into another’s private affairs.” Damon said. “And though I appreciate the help you guys have given me, I’d rather not have to rely on your hospitality too much.”

“You’re a user, don’t even have your first graft. You’ve killed monsters just like the rest of us, we can’t just throw you to the pits.” Handrondi spoke with a stern inflection. “Looking for the chance to toss you out the door would be exactly that.”

Damon withheld the grimace. “I can appreciate the sentiment. And… though I can respect the whole monster killing business, I’d rather get back home as soon as I can.”

“It is a reasonable wish, and I will help if I can.” He spoke the words with a slight bow of his head. “However, the original intention why Sybil and I came here was to hunt a lord.”

Damon nodded, prompting Handrondi to continue.

“Lords are special kinds of monsters. If you want to find a graft core, they are your best chance.”

“And you willingly choose to get more grafts, like the ones on your arms.”

“You seem uncomfortable.”

“It’s been a very long day, mister Handrondi. Lots to take in.” He shook his head.

“I can’t be much older than you, just call me Han.” He nodded as he spoke. “I think the conversation got a little out of hand. You wanted to know about the user guide?”

“The crash course of it at least.”

“Why would you want to crash?”

“It’s… it’s an expression. It means a shortened version.”

Han frowned and nodded. “The user guide is the touch of knowledge of the Goddess’s gift users. It allows them to identify monsters and keep track of their accomplishments. But most importantly, it lets you attune and tweak your grafts.”

“Which I don’t have.”

“Have you checked? Ask it for your user details.”

“Uh… show user details.”

[…]

User: Damon Wright

Species: Human

Hunter Points: 7

Survival Points: 8

Design Points: 0

PvP Points: 8

Upgrades: None

Familiars: None

Contacts: [None]

[…]

“It says I have no upgrades. Can I control this without talking to it?”

“Then your skeleton is not a graft?” Han deflated slightly at that, the disappointment clear. “And… yes, to control the user guide, you can use your hymn to-.” He went quiet. “Hm. That might be problematic. You should be able to use gestures.”

Damon waved his hands through the user details window. “Nothing’s happening.” A slight pause. “What about maps?”

“Maps?”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“How does the map function work?”

“The user guide can store images, but you would need a special skull graft upgrade to use it for mapping.”

“Store images?”

“Yes, you only need to…” Han became quiet, lips pursing. “This is turning out to be harder than I had expected.”

“… hymn again?” The question prompted him to nod. “I’ll be honest, I’ve got a feeling my user guide isn’t working the way yours does. It keeps throwing gibberish words all over. Like when I defeated the monsters, the names it used were illegible.”

That was when Han’s eyes widened. “Oh. I’ve heard about this before! Your axon is likely an ancient one. Maybe one from the age of heroes.” Shifting in his seat, the smile mellowed when he noticed Damon silently staring. “Right. The basics. Originally, the number of users changed very little because no one knew how to make new axons, but from time to time some exploration of an old ruin would turn up a new axon or twelve. Most modern axons are of the artificially made sort, my own included. But my grandfather had talked plenty over how old axons would sometimes need the gift from the Goddesses to make them fully functional again.”

“And what does that have to do with the age of heroes?”

“Back then, the Gods still walked the world. They made the axons, and the thalaring temples as well.” His smile twisted slightly. “The monsters also came from that time.”

“No option for a refund on those?”

“Unfortunately not.” A shake of the head. “Their existence is a curse created by the jealous, nameless god. It’s ancient history. Originally, people waged gruesome and bloody wars. This was until the gods descended to the world and imposed peace, bringing the age of blood to an end.”

Damon raised an eyebrow. “That must have been an impressive big stick if it ended all wars.”

“It was through an edict. Janus, with the aid of Rali, Irsi, and Tora, put the edicts of peace. People were made unable to harm others. Be they person, beast, or… eventually, monster.”

Damon shifted, frowning. “Not harm others… how? Sybil stabbed me. That seemed pretty harmful.”

“She’s a user.” He grimaced. “And… again, sorry. We thought you were a new monster of some sort. There have been more than a few monsters that looked close to people, but off in certain ways.”

“I’ll try to not take that as an insult.” Damon rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “You’re telling me that a non-user cannot fight?”

“They cannot, no. A normal person has a role, and unless they are a knight or a squire, they cannot attack anyone or anything else.” Han returned the frown. “When you try to consider hurting someone, a deep panic takes over. It paralyzes you to your core. And if you try to act, knowing it will cause physical harm, your body freezes in place. That is how it felt to me, at least.”

Damon’s brows had been rising with every word Han had spoken. “You’re telling me you’ve experienced that?”

“I have.” There was a tense silence that followed. Han leaned forward with a deep sigh. “People are born with roles. Gatherer, smith, merchant, farmer, and there are many others. The role is a gift from the gods that helps you in your work, your task. You are free to change your role, learn a new one. For example, to become a knight you must be trained and take the role of squire. But as surely as the suns sets, no one can disobey the edicts, and those that have roles are under the edicts of peace.”

Damon frowned as he leaned back against his chair. “I’ll be honest with you, this is a very hard to swallow pill. It sounds all sorts of wrong. Why not just make everyone a user?”

“You sound like Stebos.” Han laughed. “Many argue that to make everyone a user would be the greatest form of blasphemy. But in the end, it’s just wasted breath. There aren’t enough axons to go around to do so even if everyone were willing.”

“This feels all sorts of wrong.” He tightened his fingers together. “I got a friend, Tom, good mate of mine, smartest person I know. Bit too smart, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut even if his life depended on it. Got into a lot of trouble over very loud opinions. And he’d be starting a shouting match over this right about now.”

“You seem fond of your mate.”

Damon felt himself choke, breaking out into a fit of coughing. “Mate is an expression for ‘friend’ where I come from.”

Han nodded, smirking and letting out a chuckle. “If so, I would recommend being careful on how you use the term here.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. Could we change the subject? You were talking about monsters? Age of heroes?”

“Ah, yes. After the gods put the edict of peace, they were revered as many cruelties came to an end. This made the nameless god jealous, and, eventually, he planted the seeds from where the monsters come.” Han’s expression darkened. “When he unleashed them upon the world, the ruin he brought enraged the other gods. Their response was to create the users and the knights so they could wage war upon the nameless one. It was long and arduous, but eventually the nameless one was struck down.”

“Couldn’t they have just… made everyone able to fight again?”

Han shook his head. “Once the edicts were made, they couldn’t be undone.”

“And the monsters stayed after killing the asshole.”

“The curse was too strong, the seeds spread too far.” Han shook his head. “And the gods themselves had been dealt terrible injuries during the fight. They had to leave. This is an event that Stebos will insist is the start of the age of darkness. Others will claim the age of darkness came when the last of the first users died.”

Damon had to rub at his temples as he heard this. “How many ages are there?”

“The age of darkness, followed by the age of resistance. Then the age of thunder, the age of storms, two others I keep forgetting about, the age of ruin, and another one. We’re currently in the age of light.” He tapped the back of his head. “Though some will claim it is the second age of ruin. It started roughly a hundred years ago when the people from the Rali continent created the first mortal-made axon.”

“You know a lot of history.”

“I picked up some things from sticking around Stebos. I’ve worked for him.” Han said, his shoulders slumped as he sighed. “I should start charging him more.”

Damon stifled a yawn and glanced out the window. It had become dark outside, and he was feeling like shit. “I think I’m going to need to lie down and… try to stop my head from exploding.” He glanced down at the table and stood up. “Han, I… this might seem strange coming from me, but thank you for the hospitality. I just can’t avoid…”

“You’re wondering why?” He asked, and shrugged. “I trust Sybil’s judgment.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, no. But it’s the main reason. Believe it or not, Sybil and I met under similar circumstances.”

“Trying to kill one another?”

“More or less?” Han asked, lips quirking upwards. “Actually, I have a question. Near the end, you fell, and it wasn’t from Sybil’s poisons. Something that happened to your head?”

“The user guide did a thing that let me understand you.” Damon shook his head. “Language package or something along those lines.”

Han looked at him and slowly stroked his beard. “I had never heard of a user guide that could translate languages before. That was not what I’d expected.”

“Excuse me?”

“When you said you couldn’t hear us. It was odd, because when I asked the knight, he assured me his familiar could understand Demnish just fine. So a declaration of surrender would have made it stop.”

“Oh…” Damon flinched.

“Familiars aren’t connected to their users the same way a drone or robot would be. They are their own entities, even if simple ones. And sir knight confirmed it had thought what you told it was some weird monster call.”

He stood up and gestured for him to follow.

“Getting back to the subject. There are people in Sky Bridge that would know more about a strange axon than some run-of-the-mill user like me. But I’d recommend being careful when talking about these things. It could go a long way to avoid the wrong sort of attention.”

Damon quietly followed, marching his way through the house until pointed at the room he’d be staying in. It was relatively small, and the bed looked more like they’d wrapped a bunch of cloth under a larger cloth. With a wish for good rest, he stumbled into the room. His whole body was crashing, limbs felt like lead, and his eyelids were moments away from just falling shut on their own.

He couldn’t remember ever being this tired, even the hell march didn’t compare.

Taking off the scratchy overly loose shirt they’d left him to wear and the equally scratchy brown pants, he locked the door and window, checking it would hold. He checked them a second time, and then used some spare cloth to make sure they’d remain locked. Then he collapsed into the not-that-comfortable conglomeration of sheets that made up the bed. He couldn’t bring himself to care. He barely summoned the energy to cover himself with the bedsheets to ward off the chill.

His mind drifted through the day, trying to grasp at anything to latch onto before the exhaustion dragged him off. A singular thought gave him pause on the way to sleep, he’d been looking forward to finishing training and visiting his mother before deployment. Tell her he was doing fine, for once.

A deep sigh left him, his mind stilled before he could dip further into it.

The last thing he heard before falling asleep was the rumble of thunder.