Chapter 213
Seasaìdh MacMhunna walked down the hall with all the other scions of the noble families and tried to repress her exuberance.
She had fought for this opportunity amongst the peers of her lineage and had come out on top after all of the tests and challenges. They didn’t look just for combat prowess when selecting the candidates, though that was certainly part of it. Puzzle and problem-solving skills, personality, athleticism, test scores, and a dozen other things she couldn’t quite claim to understand were all evaluated as part of the process.
But now it was here, and she could hardly wait.
The Founder’s Armory was an ancient creation, from the early days of the Clans themselves, and had been the handiwork of the Founder’s firstborn and one of her race’s progenitors.
It was a place of legends, and the birthplace of countless more. Every year, the best dwarven children from across the entire realm- or close enough, anyway- were allowed entry into the armory, where they were presented with the opportunity of a lifetime.
Even the halls they walked through on their way to the Armory itself were magnificent, far grander than her Clan leaders' descriptions had led her to believe. He said they were grand and impressive, conjuring thoughts of gems and precious metals, but how wrong she was.
The halls were seemingly simple affairs of stone, metal, and wood, but the craftsmanship was exquisite. Materials blended together so seamlessly, she couldn’t quite tell where the stone turned into wood until it was already blending into the metal further down the hall.
And that was only the backdrop.
On the walls, a little higher than head height, were the murals.
She recognized each from her history lessons.
The first was the story of The Founder giving life to the Dwarves.
The Second Sun was also pictured, repairing their central star by replacing it with his personal forge after a battle during the Shattering had destroyed the first one.
Another depicted Vercatus single-handedly holding back an army of indistinct enemies while missing an arm, then the next mural pictured him again, forging his Goldhand from the grandest natural treasures.
The next showed Regula sacrificing herself to take down a dragon who had tried to burn a city.
On and on, her ancestors were represented in the murals, and she was astounded at their proud legacy.
The legacy of a people who forged themselves out of common metals and into something greater.
Seasaìdh had always known Dwarves were special, but today was the first day that she truly felt it.
Felt it in her metal bones.
When the older woman leading them through the twisting halls reached a recess in the wall where a room tucked away, Seasaìdh almost walked right past the entrance in her trance.
At the slight clearing of a throat, she came to herself, and while trying to hide her blushing, rushed into the room with the other heirs.
Once everyone was sitting down, the old woman spoke.
“Good evening, children. You have proven yourselves, the five hundred best of your peers from across the Clans this year, standing unmoving before all your compatriots. The grandest fighters, the cleverest scholars, the most dedicated to your studies. You have all distinguished yourselves, and that is worthy of celebration.” Pausing, she started looking around the room with a small smile that implied everyone she was looking at was special in some way.
Then, the woman turned, and an image appeared, projected on the fall wall.
“You may call me the Curator. It is both my title and position. A position I have earned through blood, sweat, and tears, and a position I have held for centuries. I have seen many of your parents, grandparents, and beyond walk through these doors, and I have no doubt that I shall someday see your children and grandchildren pass through my care.
“Now, I’m certain that all of you can’t wait for me to shut up and let you get on with this most exciting day of your lives, but I made your great-great grandparents wait while this old woman had her fun, and now it’s your turn. The Founder’s Armory is open to you today and today alone, the greatest treasure passed down from the Founder’s firstborn himself. Each weapon within is a masterwork unlike any the Realm has seen since. Some compare them to Growth items, but the Artifacts within are far more than a mere riftcraft could ever hope to be. No, these Artifacts are partners, not tools. They grow alongside you, yes, and should you be chosen, should you prove worthy, you will be Awoken and bonded to the Artifact. Your Talents will grow to complement your Artifact, even as it grows to complement you."
“Now, I speak of you being chosen. It is not I who will choose the wielder for each Artifact, but the Artifact themselves. They cannot be negotiated with, nor bargained for. Their bond is absolute and forever, their judgment final, and they are very, very picky with their choices. It has been twelve hundred years since the last time an Inheritor has been chosen, though we usually expect one every seven hundred to a thousand years. If you are not chosen, if no Artifact deems you worthy, then you shall simply be awakened at the end of the day."
“For you have a single day within the Armory, and during that time, you may do as you see fit with any of the weapons within, save to harm one another. The Artifacts do not approve of such things, nor do I, and to raise a blade against one of your fellow candidates is to be instantly removed from the Armory. I will be watching, and I will see."
“Now, should you be chosen as an Inheritor, should an Artifact deem you worthy, the Mountains shall pour out upon you. Your strength will in time be second only to the Grand Knights themselves, and you shall forever have the strength to defend your ancestral halls, your home, and your nation. For it is a boon to be chosen, and your power shall be manifold."
There was more, but Seasaìdh started to glaze over, seeing the projected image behind the Curator.
She wasn’t particularly drawn to the items inside, but rather the hall itself.
It was majestic.
Seasaìdh wanted to inspect the pillars that seemed to stretch up to the sky. She wanted to check her reflection in the almost mirror-like floor.
It seemed to take an eternity, but when she at last entered the Armory, she nearly fell to her knees.
Being inside was an experience she would never forget, though she was certain she wouldn’t be chosen. Luck was never on her side, and even that wouldn’t be enough for her here.
While the others rushed and started picking up weapons or pieces of armor, she just wandered, paying more attention to the tables than to the items on them.
The craftsmanship was beyond her vocabulary, so she didn’t even try to put words to her feelings.
When she was miles away from the entrance, she started paying attention to some of the items in the Founders Armory; they were also important items, and she wanted to see what made them special.
Seasaìdh quickly learned that not all the Artifacts were equal.
Each was treated with reverence, and each had its own place, but the weapons and places were far from equal. A rusty saber sat upon a velvet cushion, propped up like it was the most valuable thing in the room, while a golden axe studded with gems sat haphazardly upon a plain stone table next to it. A spear with a haft of ice balanced precariously upon its point, resting in a matching divot on the floor, while a plain longsword in a scabbard hung from a simple coat hanger.
It was all fastidiously clean, though there were a few places here and there where an Artifact had obviously been removed sometime in the past. A blade-sized hole in a stone, an amulet-shaped divot in a silk chest, a mannequin with nothing on it.
Checking her watch, Seasaìdh sighed as she realized she only had fourteen hours left. She wanted to spend the rest of her life here.
She wandered for another hour before she started to come down from her high and decided to lay down next to a glass case containing a jeweled scepter. The way it reflected the light was pretty, and she wanted to enjoy it for a moment.
Before she knew what was going on, she was already asleep.
If she had been awake, she might have seen The Curator and two others hovering just feet behind her. One was a tall human man, an oddity in many ways, while the other a confused-seeming dwarf woman.
“Curator, you said she was going to bind, but I don't see it. She’s just walking around, which is different from the others, but she doesn't seem drawn to anything,” the dwarf asked.
The man merely smirked as the Curator answered, “Saint-Heir Aoife, I have been doing this for close to sixty thousand years. I know one who will bind. She wanders without a path, but she is not lost. There are millions of items here, but she keeps walking. She could pause at any time but she does not. Her Artifact is calling her.”
It had been many, many long years since Aoife had first been in the Founder’s Armory, but it had never fully left her memory. What exactly the powerful artifacts within its walls were looking for was a matter of furious debate.
‘Worthiness’ of some metric was a common rumor, but the Custodian believed- and Aoife was inclined to trust- that perhaps the single most important factor was a compatible latent Talent, though just how much an Artifact could change a Talent was wholly unknown. Just as Ascension inexplicably improved the strength and Talents of those Awakened in its wake, so too were Artifact-bonded Talents substantially stronger than their peers. Though at the cost of usually being entirely focused upon their Artifact.
There were no Talents which merely provided Innate [Fire Manipulation]. Instead it would be the ability to use [Fire Manipulation] while bearing their staff, but with double the potency of normal [Fire Manipulation]. Those Inheritors nearly always developed their Domain around their Artifact, and when combined with the resources the Clan showered upon them, there were very, very few who could be said to be anything less than excellent.
Normally, only the Saint themselves was permitted entry to the Armory, but with just a few short centuries before his Ascension and her coronation, Hastor had invited Aoife to join him when the Custodian claimed a new Inheritor was to join their ranks. Her superior hadn’t said a word the entire time, but she had caught him looking longingly at some of the swords on display.
So, Aoife waited silently until the girl woke up.
These hallowed halls were impressive, and she understood the girl's fascination. They truly were some of the grandest under all the mountains.
Seasaìdh woke up after only an hour and kept meandering around, but Aoife noted that the Curator was correct. The girl always moved in a specific direction, even if she thought it was simply wandering.
Seasaìdh frowned as she noticed a morningstar with a thick layer of dust on its handle. Clearly, the Curator wasn’t doing her job if a weapon was so dirty.
The weapon was rather ordinary, a simple leather wrapped metal shaft bearing a ball of steel covered in spikes.
She went to wipe the dust off, but as the dust came off, so too did the weapon’s steel, revealing underneath a burning star. Then, like dust, the metal shuddered and fell off, replaced by the burning radiance of the star that had just been born.
Seasaìdh was locked in a trance as the weapon bound itself to her, Awakening both the dwarf girl and its own power.
Above the girl, Aoife was stunned. That weapon had not had dust on it before the girl got close. She knew for a fact. When she first entered the Founders Armory, she had inspected every inch of it and every weapon inside of it.
That morningstar hadn't had dust on it, until it suddenly did.
Even she hadn’t caught the transition.
Looking to the Curator, the Tier 49 saw the woman's smile. There was a trace of smugness, but Aoife could admit the woman earned it. The Curator had been correct even when she herself doubted. Hastor positively beamed, and the human stepped forward to study the resplendent weapon, taking in its majesty while being completely unseen by its Inheritor.
Aoife finally broke herself out of her amazement with a snort. “It's a little on the nose, isn't it? A morningstar being made from the core of a star?”
The Curator just shrugged. “Perhaps. I sometimes wonder if the Artifacts change themselves to be more compatible with their Chosen, just as they change those they choose. The Founder and The Smith are beyond my comprehension.”
Aoife turned to follow as the Curator teleported the girl out. The work of the Talented were always weird, but while beautiful, this place was odd, to say the least.
A living armory filled with weapons that chose their owners from the unawakened.
Frankly, her ancestors could have made things easier for her. But then, if Artifacts were simple, one of the many attempts to create more would have succeeded by now, and the armory would not be slowly getting emptier over the millenia.
Being able to produce Elites was never easy, by its very nature. The Inheritors of Artifacts were at least a marginally steady source of elite warriors, and they at least were set apart at awakening, meaning they could focus substantially more resources on them, without wasting time on candidates who ultimately fell short.
In another room, Seasaìdh slowly recovered from her stupor, and the reality of her situation began to set in.
She had been chosen.
It was beyond her wildest dreams, and she sat in a stupor for what felt like hours before she properly realized where she was.
A Talent scanner.
Armed with her new weapon, she waded into the pool of not-water and let its findings form themselves upon the reflective surface of the scrying pool
Tier 1 Talent determined.
Primary effect: Light and Fire spells are 50% stronger when channeled through Stjolna
Secondary effect: Stjolna’s Light and Fire enchantments are 50% stronger
Tertiary effect: Light and Fire spells are 25% weaker when not channeled through Stjolna
Quaternary effect: Light and Fire enchantments from sources other than Stjolna are 25% less weaker
Stjolna. That was the name of her Artifact. Her companion.
The Realm would have to make way for the two of them from now on.
***
Kelsey Tur swallowed as she looked up at the Headmaster of Barstock Academy. The man was impeccably dressed as he looked down at the students seated below him.
“My name is Leonard, and you are the newest students of Barstock Academy. That means you are better than your peers. We take the best of the unawakened nobles and craft you into the perfect ruler. We will teach you how to fight. We will teach you how to learn. We will teach you how to lead. As the offspring of nobility, you have a great burden. Even if you don't inherit your parents' fiefs, you will be expected to be an example of your noble lineage. Succeed, and opportunities will be opened to you. If you keep succeeding, the entire Empire will open to you. Many of our top graduates are among the strongest in the entire Empire, second only to those rare few Ascenders. Fail, and you will still be far better-equipped than any of your peers.”
At the murmur that ran through the crowd, Headmaster Leonard glared at them. “That is two demerits for all of you. Remaining quiet when being spoken to is a matter of simple manners. For those of you who didn’t speak, you should have silenced your neighbors.”
Kelsey grit her teeth. Two demerits meant more work in the coming weeks, and she was sure she would be earning more from the idiots around her.
Before she could complain more, Headmaster Leonard continued. “Now, if you feel under your chair, you should find a packet of information. It is not your own. Your first mission is to find your correct packet. You all have five minutes.”
Just as everyone was about to explode, he added, “Oh, yes. For every time someone speaks out loud, everyone gets one demerit.”
As if to punctuate his words, the massive clock behind him chimed its warning of the new hour.
Kelsey and everyone else earned seven demerits trying to finish their tasks in the short time they were given, but thankfully, people listened when a boy stood up and gestured for them to get into two lines where they could walk past each other quickly.
It was a good idea, and she wished she had stood out first, as he earned an approving nod from a woman next to Headmaster Leonard in the teachers area.
Being noticed was a good thing.
If not for the idiots among them who exclaimed when they found their packets, they would have made out perfectly.
Kelsey sat down with everyone else as Headmaster Leonard resumed his place at the podium. “Acceptable, but not perfect. You will learn. Of that, I am sure. If you open your packets to the first page, you will find your room assignment. That is the one place where you will not be tested. Be warned and informed. Everything outside the door frame of your quarters can and will be a test, but inside your room, you will never find a test or an instructor unless our AI reports you are in danger. That is your single place of solitude.” For the first time, Headmaster Leonard smiled. “I recommend you not spend too much time there. Safety is a trap, and tests as much as danger.”
Kelsey had already memorized her information when her eye was caught by a slight change in the weave of the paper.
She’d always had something of a knack for noticing things, and that served her well here. She split her attention between listening to Headmaster Leonard explaining more of the rules and inspecting her paper, trying to figure out what it said. By turning it and angling it correctly, Kelsey found a second message on the paper. ‘At midnight, come to the Albatross quad. By the third bush, you will find the next hint revealed by the moonlight - The Circle.’
Seeing that, Kelsey thought hard. Everyone was meant to be in their rooms by ten at night, and being caught outside was risking far worse than demerits, but like the Headmaster said, everything was a test. From what she knew, The Circle was a group of advanced students who acted like a shadow student council.
If she could join them, she would be able to secure herself an even better position in the school.
While they didn’t publicize their members, The Circle was rumored to never have had a member not make it to a Tier 15 academy.
Kelsey wanted to be even better than that. To do so, she needed their resources.
She just needed to plan everything perfectly so as to not get caught.
Risk and reward.
As they walked through the halls, she noted all the wards and security measures. They were surprisingly lax, which she supposed made sense. This school was a test, after all.
That night, when she was supposed to be asleep, she slunk out of her room and stalked down the halls, covering her face with one of her shirts.
Not exactly a foolproof measure to conceal her identity, but the best she could do on short notice.
It turned out to be a good choice, because she saw three others sneaking through the halls in different directions.
She wasn’t the only one to see a hidden test, but each seemed different enough that no one was on her path to the quads.
Right before midnight, she was hidden inside the shadow of a bush when she saw it.
In a topiary of a man holding an orb, she found a thin panel of what she thought was glass, but seeing the liquid dripping off the leaves, learned it was ice.
As the clock struck midnight and the moon shone through it, she found a second message written in the shadows spread across the grass field.
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‘Right, left, right, left, back, back, forward, forward.’
Seeing nothing else, Kelsey furrowed her brows. But hearing steps behind her, she ran into the nearby hedge maze.
Following the pattern, she found herself not in the center, but a dead end.
As panic started to set in, she saw a root that seemed slightly different than the others.
Throwing caution to the wind, she bent down and pulled it— and almost cried out as the ground dropped out from under her feet.
Landing on her butt, she looked up to see the sliver of sky disappear as the trap door shut.
Then, as if on command, the room lit up with torches.
Standing around her in a Circle were six people with dark robes and masks covering the top of their faces.
“Kelsey Tur. We, The Circle, invite you into our hidden society. The strongest weapons are the ones you don't show. Mystery and our minds are our strongest weapons. Would you like to make them yours?”
Kelsey stood up and brushed her dirt covered hands on her outer coat before looking around the circle of people.
Having gathered herself, she calmly answered.
She didn’t have to think about it after all.
The answer was obvious.
“Yes.”
***
Serhan Tasci sat in the classroom and poured over the fragile pages of parchment.
Not that they were old, despite trying to appear ancient.
They were forgeries made for this exercise; the ink still had a smell that gave the game away. If they were as old as they appeared, they wouldn’t have such a metallic scent.
Serhan was in the middle of his Tier 15 practical exam in one of the Republic's best academies.
He didn’t even know exactly which academy he was testing for, but the initial Tier 15 academies numbered only a dozen. All of them were good, and if he graduated from any of them he would qualify for admittance into Evermore Academy, the highest of education.
If he failed to discover the answer to which school's test he was taking, his academic career would end here, like ninety five percent of his schoolmates.
The weeding out of students, first as they Tiered up, then through decades of academic rigor, was how the Republic found the best of the best to nurture.
The academies were a comprehensive learning environment, and anyone who made it as far as he did was considered truly elite. Any company or political movement would salivate at the thought of roping his classmates in, but Serhan had bigger dreams.
He wanted to graduate from Evermore. Even qualifying for Evermore was sufficient to have one’s career prospects set for life, but once a millennium, someone would graduate and become a living legend.
The Everborn. Stronger, smarter, better. Only Gladiators could be considered their peers or superiors, and there was only one Gladiator Maya. To be Everborn was to be a national hero, beloved by all and given everything they ever needed or wanted.
And Serhan wanted.
He studied harder than his classmates, practiced when they goofed off, challenged himself when they accepted mediocrity.
Serhan’s Talent made every one of his skills more powerful, and had set him apart ever since he first Awakened. The resources he earned through his academies had only pushed him further ahead of his peers.
That was the point, after all.
Round after round of culling the students meant those who kept improving would be able to move to higher Tier academies, where the training got better with more, higher Tier resources.
He just needed to figure out this test.
It took him nearly a week and three false starts, but he eventually found a permutation cipher hidden in the whitespace of the document, and after running it through a translator to convert it into Republic standard, he got his message.
A simple date and time set for three years from when he got the task and a name. Blue Stone Academy.
He had his ticket and knew his destination.
Or, at least the name.
The Tier 15 academies weren’t public in their locations. Even their names were little more than rumors, but he had at least heard of Blue Stone Academy. If said rumors were correct, he was accepted into the third ranked academy of this bracket.
Not as good as he wished, but better than he hoped.
He had started at one of the worst Tier 1 academies in the Republic and clawed his way up the ladder, until the third out of fifteen offered him a position.
When Serhan entered Evermore, they would then know their blunder. The schadenfreude he would taste would be sweeter than any victory champagne.
***
Tian Hai sat in the pressure room and endured.
He had dealt with far worse during his training to become a Dao Child.
When the pressure let up, he looked at the army leader in front of him, who panted.
“Dao Child, we can't continue. Our willpower is insufficient for your needs.”
Tian Hai frowned but got up. “Imbeciles. Return to your rooms, recuperate, for you shall need it in the morn.”
As Tian Hai swept away, he clenched his fist.
He was surely one of the greatest water mages in the Sect, perhaps the entire realm. His Silver Carp bloodline, Flowing Water Revelations, even his Talents all supported that simple and unassailable fact as his simple birthright. The Sects had seen that within him, and supported him all the more, with rare treasures and powerful skills. He had surpassed the might of others ten times his age, meditating upon the nature of water since before his grandfather had been born, learned the secrets of the Elders, and been clothed in treasures with majesty unmatched.
Yet the Drowner approached. The man who dared to challenge Tian Hai for his title. His blood may as well have been mud to Tian Hai’s purest springwater, and he was more a thug than a true artist of water. He was a mockery of the millennia Tian Hai had spent truly mastering his craft, lacked the elegance inherent to the element.
He dared to challenge the heavens, and Tian Hai was prepared to show him the folly of his challenging the Dao Child of Rushing Streams. Other Dao Children had fallen to the Drowner, but he would not join their ranks today. The Imperial would regret his challenge, and Tian Hai had spent many years preparing himself to withstand the crushing pressure the Drowner relied upon instead of proper technique.
But then again, that should have only been expected from a Young Master. They thought that simple power and sheer stubbornness was sufficient to overcome the inheritance and right to victory the Dao Children carried from birth.
Tian Hai flew into space around the moon and tore a small hole through the veil, trying to see if the Drowner was nearing.
With no ripples in the flowing streams of Chaos indicating the monster was approaching, he returned to his meditation room and steadied himself. The Drowner was a capable combatant, no matter his personal feelings on the barbarian. It would not do to bring anything but his best against the man.
He was interrupted not long thereafter by a soldier flying to his balcony, pulling him from his meditation, “Dao Child! The Drowner was just reported as back in the Empire, he has turned tail and fled!”
Tian Hai scoffed, “As to be expected of the barbarian. He must have learned who he would be facing, and preferred to turn tail and flee than to face this one in honorable combat! I must teach him proper respect the next time we meet upon the fields of battle! Rejoice, for your Dao Child has turned back the wrath of the Drowner!”
As the soldier left, leaving Tian Hai alone with his thoughts once more, he allowed himself a smirk. Clearly, the Drowner must have been wiser than he’d given him credit for. He’d restrained himself to fighting only those who were too weak, giving the illusion of strength, yet turning tail once he foresaw true resistance. Undoubtedly, when they met upon the fields of battle next, Tian Hai would emerge firmly victorious. He should feel triumphant, secure in the knowledge that today’s fight would have been an utter farce, his own millennia of skill firmly capable of outmatching the brutish, unrefined techniques of the foreigner.
So why did he feel relieved?
***
Etienne looked down at his newly-repaired arm.
A Corp mercenary had blown it off in the last fight, but he had taken the man's head; a fair trade.
While replacing your flesh was less than pleasant without Minkalla, there were ways. Ones at which the CyberForce Guild excelled at, though they were more painful.
Still, the power was tangible.
As his [AI] beeped, he shot to his feet and ran.
With his mechanical legs and Power boosting his speed, he crossed the miles required to reach the parameter wall in less than a thousandth of a second.
He was the only member of CyberForce here, and it was his duty to prevent the base from being raided. This was a break assignment for his efforts in the last century. A break for his good deeds.
Normally, it would be an easy task, but a Corp mercenary team had set up shop while raiding their military installations in this area, which turned a mission that was meant to be a minor vacation into a dangerous assignment.
With two hundred Tier 25s, they outnumbered his own Tier 25 assets three to one, and that was a gap he couldn’t cover himself.
If he wanted, he could kill most of them in a single engagement, but that would mean massive casualties for the men protecting this base.
Unacceptable.
He was no true Hero, but he wasn’t a callous asshole, either. Each normal soldier had their own life they valued as much as he valued his. All of which meant he needed to beat down this mercenary team slowly.
And they were here again.
Activating his command channel, he said, “Prepare to repel boarders once again.”
The moon they were on didn’t have an atmosphere, but that only helped him and increased his top speed without needing to use his Domain.
As the soldiers started casting spells and firing their defensive weapons, Etienne flexed his legs and launched himself into the air as he started running.
Using his Concept as a ground, his Power started increasing his speed to levels even a Tier 29 would struggle to keep up with as he weaved between projectiles, cutting out at the mercenaries while he ran forward.
This was the third raid, and he had a plan.
As their ship spat out another volley of attacks, he increased his speed to his limit and dashed inside the port before the weapons hatch closed.
Now that he was inside the ship, he started doing what he did best.
Killing people.
His integrated [AI] kept track of everyone’s position even as his shoulder rockets unleashed a barrage of [Fireblast]s.
He dodged a blade and projected an [Energy Sword] from his wrist, bisecting the woman guarding the hatch.
Two kicks later, the door fell, and he was free to run once more.
In the close quarters of the ship's halls, he took mostly cosmetic damage to his cybernetics, and in a short two minutes, he had entered the helm and had the captain held up by the neck.
“Call off the raids or die.”
The man smiled.
“I’d like to discuss your surrender. We have the helm rigged with explosives. We knew you would do this, Mercury. You were our target from the start.”
Etienne wasn’t surprised, and smiled as liquid metal started to seep out of his pores.
Crushing the captain's neck, the last thing he saw was the man's surprised expression as the ship exploded.
Thankfully, his liquid metal module was more than enough to protect him from an explosion of this Tier.
With their leader exploding, the rest of the mercenaries tore through real space into chaotic space, but Etienne followed. He kept up a steady harassment until they were well away from the flickering light that was his planet, but not beyond.
He was only Tier 25, and couldn't entirely protect himself from the degradation of chaotic space with his own power, but seeing the mercenary group leave, he knew his job was completed.
Now, there would come the paperwork and funerals.
Etienne needed a break from this break.
***
Kar'Tan stalked the halls of his laboratory, a vial clutched in his paw. Around him, tubes filled with all manner of liquids slowly bubbled, the tiny, misshapen creatures within them pulsing like they were alive.
For they were. Mostly, at least.
The Chimera Program had, in the days of the Federation, been one of the countless abominations their hated enslavers had subjected them to. They were, however, far less interested in actual results than simply stitching flesh and bone together in the most painful ways imaginable. Their attempts to add bloodlines to humans, to add bloodlines to beasts, to create new bloodlines… they all failed, save for a single instance.
Kar'Tan himself.
His parents, if he could call the genetic donors spliced together in a test tube and grown within an incubator ‘parents’, had been a Golden Eagle and a Solar Lion, but he was no griffin. He was a winged lion instead, a carnivorous mockery of a pegasus, yet a vicious predator with two mighty bloodlines nonetheless.
Many of his compatriots from the war had sought to distance themselves from those running the Federation and anything they worked on as much as they possibly could, which he understood. He had done the same for the first few thousand years of their independence, but they soon learned.
Independence was easy to maintain with all of the other Great Powers breathing down their necks.
After a devastating loss twenty thousand years after their independence, Kar'Tan had seen the value within himself, so when the Monster Collective higher ups started making inquiries about restarting the program, he had been the first to offer his services.
He had been party to the true horrors of the old Project Chimera, and thus was trusted to not stray too far into the abject depravity that haunted the program’s past.
That he actually produced results, rather than creatively spliced corpses, certainly helped.
Kar'Tan stopped in front of an incubation tube slightly larger than his already-impressive size, injecting the serum he had recently concocted into the intake membrane at the device’s base. The crimson fluid stood out in stark contrast to the faintly-green liquid currently surrounding a feathered dragon in embryo, yet sought out its target like so many snakes, diving into the lab-grown creature.
Failures were frequent and catastrophic.
It had taken him almost a millennia to produce the first proper chimera, a splice between a Water Otter and an Ice Martin, yet even that one had only survived for a few days outside of its birthing pod. It took millennia more before he had a subject survive until Awakening, but Awakening turned a bright, cheery little raven-fox into a slavering, insane monster akin to those within a rift.
With the serum having taken, Kar'Tan began his return to the other section of his laboratory. His long strides were soundless against the metal grates that acted as the floor, leaving only the faint hums of enchantment and circulating nutrient fluid from the dozens of tanks around him.
Even now, failures outnumbered successes a hundred to one, but they were improving. Chimeras were being born, they were surviving to Awakening, they weren’t going mad.
At least, occasionally.
It was hundreds of years between each true success, and even though most chimeras proved willing to join the army once they were grown, most was not all, and they never forced it. The fraction who were suitable to the rigors of Elite military duty were slimmer still, but having nearly the full prowess of two bloodlines was a potent one, in the rare instances that it all worked.
Potent enough for Project Chimera to retain its generous funding.
With a flap of his wings, Kar'Tan brought himself to the catwalk overlooking the growing chamber, then a few steps were all that was needed to return him to the far busier portion of the building.
His colleagues, a mixture of humans and beasts, worked in an interesting combination of utter chaos and complete order, as requests and cries to “make way!” and “Behind!” turned the floor into a chaotic stew of researchers and assistants taking notes, studying magical patterns, and developing strategies for the next batch of chimeras.
War was coming.
They needed to be prepared.
***
Valerie stood her ground with her bonded armor as Violet Paladin Ortiz gave his welcome speech to a dozen Tier 10s. Five hundred years ago, she had been on the receiving end of this speech, but the new perspective brought with it no small amount of pride.
“You all fought for this position. You are some of the best fighters in your generation. Not all of you will become Paladins, but it's possible. Green Paladin Valerie is our newest member, having stood where you are now just five hundred years ago. Now, out of Minkalla and bonded to her armor, she represents who you compete to become.”
As Paladin Ortiz said that, she saw the desire in their eyes. It was familiar.
“Green Paladin Valerie, please give us a demonstration.” Violet Paladin Ortiz said it with a smile, and Valerie had to resist grinning.
Her job here was to be serious and knock some sense into the recruits. Having been on the other side of this, she was more than ready to knock some heads together. If they were half as arrogant as she was, they needed it.
“Green Paladin Valerie will be fighting all of you in your training armors. Worry not that she will just overpower you with her better power armor. Her power armor is better, but she won't use even a tenth of its strength. Your training armor is stronger than hers.”
Valerie smiled as her helmet sealed her in, and she merged with her armor more fully. Having emerged from Minkalla, she had been granted a full [Assistive Intelligence ME26-MI], and the original skill truly made the armor feel like a second layer of skin. With the module active, she moved into the center of the recruits.
A Paladin’s powered armor was made through incredible craftsmanship, using only the best natural treasures. Minkalla turned the powered armor into a growth armor, and a whole lot of training created a perfect pilot for the armor.
They protected the Corporation as the finest fighting force that existed, and were given the best of everything, but that came with responsibility.
Valerie knew each of the recruits thought they were sure to be the one to bind with a Paladin armor, but out of the close to fifty recruits, if more than two of them got the right to enter Minkalla, she would be shocked.
Earning that shot wasn’t easy, and the biggest obstacle was the recruits' own pride. Well, the suits of armor that took centuries to build certainly didn’t make things any easier. There were far, far more candidates than available armors after all, but that was why they weeded out the recruits even after the rigorous preselection.
As the first blade tried to descend on her back, Valerie spun. She was slower than she was used to, but the recruits were sluggish, despite all their hours of holographic training sims.
The real power armors were different, no matter how good the program.
They were more robotic than their suits accounted for.
Dipping low, she kicked the blade out of the first recruit's hand before planting her hands on the ground and spinning, tripping another two recruits.
Bouncing to her feet with a strong push, she jumped once more and kneed the closest one in the helmet.
As he fell back, she rode him down and broke the encirclement.
This was so much fun.
When the last of the recruits dropped to their butts, she stepped back to Violet Paladin Ortiz, who winked at her.
He knew what was coming next, and was looking forward to it as much as she was.
“Recruits, your armors seem a little damaged. Your first task is to fix them.” Pointing off to the side, he showed them the mechanics.
All of them had hard expressions, but it was all an act Valerie knew. The mechanics were some of the most passionate people in the Paladins, but they served a less highlighted role for all that it was just as valuable. A lesson the recruits needed to learn. If they couldn't respect the people who maintained their armor, they had no place among the Paladins.
Most of them came from pampered backgrounds, and were used to being given everything by teams of hired help, but that wasn’t how the Paladins worked, and those who couldn’t grasp that fact invariably failed. An operator was only one half of a Paladin team. Even after turning into a growth item and becoming able to repair itself, no operator wanted their armor to be running at anything other than its best. Which was where the mechanics came in.
Only one of the recruits, a man who she clotheslined in a bit of fun, moved at first. He moved to the closest team and demanded them to repair his armor.
The mechanics refused.
The man looked gobsmacked and stood there as he tried to process what to do.
Ordering the mechanics was the second worst way to try and get them to help. The only way that was worse was using violence, and that option was why Paladin Ortiz and she herself stayed around. Well, they also wanted to watch the show, but they were ready to move and protect the mechanics.
Paladin Ortiz hadn’t lied when he said that she was only using a fraction of her armor's power. With two growth powers on her Tier 15 armor, she could cross the distance faster than they could throw a punch. Paladin Ortiz could be there before the recruit even flexed if he was so needed.
As the first man started shouting, she smiled.
The show was starting.
***
Yusef grunted as he completed his push up.
Lead Instructor Ha Hyonu spoke his mantra, “You are the Warrior caste. Your old caste is in the past. Some of your parents were Makers, who created our weapons and armors, our barracks and ships. An honorable life, filled with the knowledge that their efforts serve the Warriors. Be grateful you are not them, for if you were, you would only bloody your hands by proxy.”
Everyone screamed back, “We are Warriors!”
A Training Instructor neared the woman next to Yusef and started screaming at her for letting her body sag from the perfectly flat plane that they were meant to maintain.
Lead Instructor Ha Hyonu didn’t stop his mantra, but did raise his voice as he passed through their orderly ranks.
“You are the Warrior caste. Your old caste is in the past. Some of your parents were of the Community, making your food and your clothes, maintaining our homes and our ships. Respect them, for they are the ones who allow you to be warriors, and spare you from worrying if you will have food or clothes that fit. Be grateful you are not them, for if you were, you would only support the war, not be in it.”
Everyone screamed back, “We are Warriors!”
Exercise Instructor Almante called for them to start doing high knees, and everyone jumped to their feet. Yusef was just grateful, as his arms were starting to tire, so the change of exercise was welcome.
Lead Instructor Ha Hyonu never stopped speaking. “You are the Warrior caste. Your old caste is in the past. Some of your parents were Leaders. They guide us with their wisdom and Talents, bringing forth order from chaos and purpose to the aimless. Be grateful you are not them, for you would never protect our home yourselves.”
Everyone screamed back, “We are Warriors!”
From the corner of his vision, Yusef saw Lead Instructor Ha Hyonu raise a trainee’s hands to be higher and therefore raise the contact point for their high knees. The man had been slacking with his exercise and gotten caught.
Never a good thing.
While Lead Instructor Ha Hyonu was gentle in his correction, the swarm of Training Instructors who started screaming at the trainee were anything but.
“You are the Warrior caste. Your old caste is in the past. Some of your parents were Warriors. It is them who you follow, those are the few you should seek to emulate. To try and reach, and even surpass. Treat your fellows with respect, for you share a common goal. Be grateful you are them, for the blood of our enemies will be spilled by your hands.”
Everyone screamed back with even more fervor than the other replies, “We are Warriors!”
“You are the Warrior caste. You are the archwarriors of the Warrior caste, your Talents beyond all those who you once thought of peers. It is your duty to surpass all others, and be the tip of the glaive as we pierce the throats of our enemies.”
Yusef wanted to smile at that reminder. He would be one of the best in the future. Before he could daydream about the time where he could lead normal Warriors into battle, Lead Instructor Ha Hyonu then reminded them why they fought.
“We are the strongest Great Power. The others fear us, they cower in their homes, posturing and seeking to intimidate us with shameful tricks. They will not succeed, we will fight them all and win. It took all seven of them to equal our brilliance, but today, we shine brighter than all of them.”
Yusef missed what Lead Instructor Ha Hyonu said next, as a Training Instructor saw his eye twitch to the side to follow the Lead Instructor.
“Did the Lead Instructor tell you to look at him, trainee? Do you rate to look at the Lead Instructor?”
“No, sir!” Yusef screamed back at the top of his lungs while doing his high knees even faster.
The Training Instructor then told him to switch between burpees and bicycle kicks as he commanded him to go faster with every breath.
When someone else caught the Training Instructor's eyes and left Yusef alone, Lead Instructor Ha Hyonu was cursing the beasts that pretended to be human.
“What are the imposters who wear our flesh and pretend to be like us?”
Yusef and everyone screamed with spit flying, “Monsters pretending to be human! Nothing better than monsters from the rifts, who pretend to be like us!”
Their exercise lasted until the sun was high in the sky, when they were eventually passed food by the Community members who had the privilege of working on the base.
A Trainee near Yusef spent too much time looking at one of the helpers, and the Training Instructors fell on her. “Do you think you rate to look at a member of the Community, trainee?”
As he watched through his peripheral vision, Yusef quickly ate the meal provided.
It was his favorite time of the day.
Potions of Strength were passed around, and when they drank them, Yusef could feel his sore muscles vanish as they loosened and twitched.
Flexing, he could feel the increase in his strength. In time, the potions would be replaced with proper technology, turning his body into a weapon incomparable to all others. He would surpass his own self, becoming an unstoppable war machine, but that would be in due time. They all started with the potions.
Once their potions were drank, Lead Instructor Ha Hyonu called for them to turn and start running.
Today was obstacle course day.
“At the obstacle course, you will simulate the attacks of the enemies as you weave through the rubble of their defenses, and seek to take their lives.” Lead Instructor Ha Hyonu explained the same thing as he always did, but Yusef was grateful for it, as it gave them time to catch their breath and settle their racing hearts.
As they broke into teams, with half of them moving through the obstacle course, Lead Instructor Ha Hyonu once more explained their purpose.
“You are the Warrior caste. Your old caste is in the past. Some of your parents were Makers who created our weapons and armors, our barracks and ships. An honorable life, filled with the knowledge that their efforts serve the Warriors. Be grateful you are not them, for if you were, you would only bloody your hands by proxy.”
Everyone screamed back, “We are Warriors!”