The Founding Words of the Archian Ascendancy

With our hands, we will build a world that commands respect

With our minds, we will build a society that respects one another

With our unity, we will build an empire that lasts into eternity

With all three, we shall ascend.

A loud noise, so deep that it seems to reverberate through my entire body, wakes me up and I blindly flail around in the dark, trying my best to roll out of bed. My stump, still sensitive despite my multiple sessions with Joselin, bumps into the side table and sends waves of fiery sharp pain up my arm. I fall off the bed, clutching my arm against my chest.

Moments later, managing to push myself past the pain, I stumble over to the window and open the blinds, letting the light illuminate the notification in front of me.

The Trial of the Tournament will begin shortly! Prepare yourself for transportation. Bring any tools or weapons that would be necessary for combat. Further instructions will be provided upon transport.

A feeling of relief settles on me. No more waiting, wondering, endlessly stressing about possibilities. Now is the time for action. To pit myself up against all the other Candidates and end this contest once and for all.

With an almost surreal anticipation, I quickly pack a bag with a spare set of clothes and a few days’ worth of dry rations. I throw the bag over my shoulder and walk out of my room, down the hall of the Genesis Academy and towards the stairs. Voices from all sides try to grab at my attention but I just nod my head or raise a hand as I pass, ignoring the individual pleas.

I quickly exit the building and stand in the middle of the road, taking in the sights, smells, and sounds of Everwall. It hasn’t even been a full year since Genesis arrived but we’ve already built a thriving community. Schools for children, local businesses for food and entertainment, a healthy fishing industry, and a strong defensive force are just some of the few aspects of a city that has quickly grown beyond my wildest imagination.

It’s remarkable that it has all been accomplished. A lot of people attribute the success to me but I know the truth; the City Council. Letting them handle all of the day to day issues let me focus on the bigger issue. Without their tireless work, Everwall would still be a series of shacks built into ruins along the side of a lake.

It’s in the middle of this thought that a bright light falls down upon me and I become blinded. A strange pulling sensation follows immediately, as if every particle within my body is ripped apart and then taken away. Strangely enough, it isn’t painful.

After a few seconds of this strange sensation, the light ends and I find myself standing in a small room with seven other people. The obvious conclusion is that these seven are the other Candidates that made it to the Tournament but there is an easy way to confirm that information. Opening up the somewhat dusty part of my mind that is able to ascertain Combat Ranking, I let my senses take in every aspect of the room’s other inhabitants.

The results flow back to me within an instant and it takes all of my self-control to not jump backwards and defend myself. Four of the seven are Rank 1’s, barely a risk to me, but I can’t pin the other three down. The signs of Rank 2 are mixed among things I can barely perceive on a conscious level that somehow fill me with a defensive instinct.

The weakest of the three is a young girl, who can’t be more than fifteen or sixteen years old. She wears a knee length skirt and frilly blouse, along with high white socks. The combination gives her a somewhat doll-like appearance, which isn’t helped by her pink shoes. One of her hands, carefully manicured and painted, hold onto a ragged and ripped teddy bear, while the other holds up a lit match to her eye level. I get a glimpse into her eyes and nearly shiver at what I see; a complete lack of human empathy hides behind them, looking into the fire with a manic glee.

The second strongest is a middle-aged Asian man. His hair has been shaved around the sides and the top is short, carefully pushed towards one side. A sloping, almost aquiline, is turned up, looking down upon the rest of the room’s inhabitants. Two thin scimitars rest upon his back, black hilts rising up to each of his shoulders. A long red tassel hangs from the butt of each hilt, draping themselves down his back. He wears a black jacket, embroidered with some sort of golden dragon, which opens up to a simple white cotton shirt and a pair of black pants.

The strongest of the three is a pale woman who looks like she is from northern Europe. Pale blond hair, almost white in color, falls down the back of her neck. It is woven into a careful braid that ends at the small of her back. Delicate patterns can be seen in the braid and it almost seems as if they spell something out in a language I cannot read. Her eyes swivel across the room to finally make eye contact with me and I’m taken aback. Startlingly light blue eyes, the color of ice as it drifts across a vicious sea, stare at me, most likely analyzing me in the same way that I am analyzing her.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

I can see a long spear on her back, positioned right by the braid, and it radiates a dangerous sense of Mana. Unfortunately, I can’t see much as the hilt is wrapped up in a beautifully crafted blanket, white with red patterns, and the only visible part is the blade, nearly six inches long and tapered down to a sharp point. Her eyes drift down to my hand and I see her eyebrows furrow in slight confusion at the sight of my stump. Pretending to look at the ceiling, I open up my mind and reach out to hers.

Just as I make contact, a large voice seems to boom in my head. It seems filled with a righteous and ancient anger. SEEK NOT TO ANGER THE ALLFATHER, it says, reverberating within my mind. A flash of light appears around her head and a small sliver of lightning shoots across the room towards me.

Just as it is about to strike me, it vanishes from existence and a slight popping noise fills the room.

Turning to the point of the popping noise, I see a strange figure walk out of a shadowy door that seems to have appeared from nowhere. It is an inky black that stretches into the world but can’t seem to get further than a foot or two, inevitably pulled back towards the doorway. With a faint snapping of fingers, the doorway disappears and I’m able to get my first good look at the person.

Clad in a black cloak that completely obscures their features, the person spins slowly to get a good look at everyone in the room. The cloak stretches all the way to the ground and completely hides any distinctive features that would give us any hint as to their gender or race.

After a few moments, a faint laugh echoes out and the hands quickly rip off the cloak, exposing a rakishly thin man. A mane of thin spikes frame a face of scaly green skin, with white eyes that look. A toothy grin fills its face. “Well aren’t you a rowdy bunch? It only took you all about … hmm let’s see … fifteen seconds for someone to make the first attack? I have to say, I’m disappointed it took that long. The winner of the last group I adjudicated was able to kill three of her opponents before I even arrived.”

One of the weaker Candidates, with a haughty and arrogant look on his face, says, “Who the hell are you?”

The man snaps his fingers and a ball of pulsating shadow coalesces around his face. It sinks deeply into the man’s throat and he begins clutching at it with pinched hands, skin becoming red and blood vessels becoming engorged. I gently extend my awareness towards the shadow and I’m shocked to find that it isn’t Mana. It seems to be something else entirely, something beyond my understanding. For some reason, the thought excites me.

“Well, Mr. Disrespectful, my name is Linus and I’m with the Midnight Company. We’ve been employed by Genesis to administer and adjudicate the Primus Trials of you backwater planets. Unfortunately, I got stuck with all of the straggler planets that seem to be taking their sweet time. So how about you shut your mouth and we get on with the fighting? Does that sound all right?”

The man is barely conscious at this point, his eyes beginning to go out of focus and his face becoming extremely red. He manages to nod slightly and then the shadow disappears, causing him to fall to the ground in a series of gasps and coughs.

“Good to hear. Now, we are here to determine the Primus of the planet … what the hell is this place called ...” He takes out a notebook from the cloak and begins to thumb through it. “Oh yes, Earth. One of you little folk will become the Primus of this planet and then I’ll be able to go on my merry way back to my life of carousing and not being here.”

“We’re going to do this as simply as possible. First we’ll break you off into four different pairs and then the two of you will fight until surrender or death. Everyone will get a short break and then it’s winners versus each other. Same rules. It ends with the final two and the winner of that fight becomes Primus. Any questions?”

The pale haired woman, the crazy young girl, and one of the remaining three unremarkable contestants raise their hands. The man looks around the room and then claps his hands gleefully. “No questions, fantastic! Now, everyone come up her and take a token from my hand. The number you get will correspond to your opponent.” With that, he flourishes his hands and eight tokens appear. Instead of remaining static, however, they dance along his knuckles, obscuring the number on each one so that we can’t plan ahead.

The pale woman walks ahead with a confident stride, each step propelling her forward multiple feet. I stare at her, trying to get a better understanding of what that voice was, but she doesn’t seem to radiate any sense of Mana or that strange other energy. Her hand reaches out and she snatches a token from his hand, taking a quick look and then hiding it in her clenched fist.

The unremarkable Candidates go next, each one moving with an almost sad arrogance. I know the truth of what they are capable of and unless they manage some sort of miraculous upset, they are all going to lose or die in this competition. I want to warn them, to advise them to surrender with their lives, but I can tell that they would just disregard any advice I give. Arrogance is always our downfall.

A short lull fills the room and then I decide to go, walking towards the rakish man. He gives me a smile and a wink as he holds out his hand, the four remaining tokens almost floating along his knuckles in their dance. I reach my hand forward and quickly grab one, pulling it away and then sparing a short look. The number 4 is emblazoned on the token.

The remaining three Candidates then retrieve their tokens and we all stand around, awkwardly awaiting the results. The man mumbles to himself for a few seconds and then flourishes his hands outward. “Well, let’s get this started already! Here’s how things fell.”

Large illuminated numbers appear above our heads and I quickly scan through the crowd until I see the other four, which lies above the head of insane young girl. Her eyes meet mine and a smile breaks out on her face, a display of emotion that is completely at odds with the madness that I can see.

The man claps his hands and says, “Now, let’s get started.”

Another flash of light falls upon me.