Sweat dripped down Millie’s brow as she eyed her target. Despite the mild climate of the training yard, the sun shown bright enough to stifle, and the efforts of her exertion had left her body glistening. It was even visible in the daylight due to the scant workout uniform she wore. Though, she had no idea if it really was the sun above her—the true nature of this private training yard eluded her. But, once more, for the hundredth time, and what would eventually become a thousand times, she set her stone into the pouch and prepared to throw.
Folding the sling as she’d been taught, pinching the unlooped end to hold it, she let it fall to her side, holding the cord steady before it settled its motion. Then, she rocked it forward, slowly, twisting her body with it to give it maximum distance from her position, feet planted firmly on the ground. At the height of the gentle arc, she let it fall back, curving it around her, in line with her body's own rotation, centered around her hips. Her back protesting the motion though—again. Her pregnant body was less willing to work with her than her mind. But she ignored it, letting the pouch and stone swing around her, eventually arcing behind her back, as she almost twisted the full way ‘round.
But she didn’t twirl the sling yet. She once more let the stone reach its furthest point behind her, trusting in the sensation of the stone’s weight pulling against her arm to tell her where it was, before she let the momentum of its swing, like a pendulum, end at a final moment of potential.
It was a slow process, this gentle rocking. From the front to the back, she’d taken her time, several seconds in truth, as the rock orbited her. But it all came down to this one moment. Building for this release. She gulped a breath, her body tensing, and when the stone began to swing back down she finally sprang into motion.
Pivoting on her feet, rotating her gravid body, she yelled with all her might as the stone and the sling raced through the air, arcing forward and upward, above her head, twirling once and then twice, before forward she lunged, her finger slipping by design, the string cracking in the air, the stone flying with fury, chased by a thunderous snapping.
It missed her target. It was a foot off, flying over top the painted wood twenty yards away.
“Fucking hell!” She screamed, resetting her stance as her back burned and she found herself panting. She was getting closer, and for only an Earth hour or so of practice, she’d come a remarkable way. More than she should have by any normal rate even.
“You’re still releasing too soon, M&M. Gotta keep working on that timing,” a voice informed her.
“Yeah, I know,” she said grimacing. Millie then turned towards the Spirit. “Thanks, Coach.”
She said the word almost like a curse, but she knew she shouldn’t be too irritated at the Spirit. It wasn’t like he’d chosen the name. It had been given to him on his summoning. Though for once it had been someone other than Catherine who’d given out a ridiculous moniker.
“The Byzantium style is powerful. It uses your body's torque to empower the throw, but maybe you should consider another, yeah?”
Millie sighed, as she glared upwards at the Spirit, craning her neck. The thing was eight feet tall, with amber skin, ludicrously chiseled features, and a gold-trimmed, colorful skirt that ran past his knees, parting along his thighs. He also had a stupid, squarish golden crown that added nearly a foot to his height, but the left and right sides of it were currently featureless and blank.
They had been the spots for his other faces but they had disappeared along with his extra arms as the originally six-armed, three-faced Spirit reduced its form to better ‘aid’ her. Now, he was a reasonable two armed and one faced being, only she really wished he wasn’t wearing sunglasses. It somehow felt sacrilegious, for reasons Millie couldn’t even begin to guess at. However, this Spirit had been named and inadvertently modeled/informed by Braylon’s image of what a ‘coach’ should be like.
Just once, could someone name and summon up a sane Spirit? She thought. Just once.
“Alright, Coach, we’ll try something else,” she finally said. “What were some of the others again?” She hadn’t forgotten, obviously, but there was a trick with this Spirit that shouldn’t be ignored, especially if she wanted to make the most of her personal training time.
“Why don’t we start with the Helicopter…” he said, pausing to chuckle. “And then go from there,” he finished.
The Spirit insisted on using ‘Earth’ names for things in his training but kept finding them funny. She wasn’t even sure why he cared—it wasn’t like she could tell the difference in styles, he could just make up the names and she’d be none the wiser.
Still, as the hulking monstrosity that was their friendly, good-natured ‘Coach’ stood beside her, manifesting his own sling made of light, she copied his movements as he lightly twirled the sling over his head. Honestly, the helicopter was rather self explanatory as he mostly just stood there twirling the stone above him, ready for takeoff, before he snapped it forward with a quick release.
Following his movements, however, her attempt left her stone embedded into the dirt, a few feet short of her target.
“Too late this time, M&M. Hmm, perhaps the figure eight?”
She stared at Coach as he set a stone of light into his sling and then held the cord perpendicular to the ground in front of his chest. Then, he let the stone drop, using the momentum of gravity to begin his twirl, but as it arched up he lifted his sling hand over his head with a smooth motion, so that when the stone went to spin downward it was now behind his body. Leaning forward as the stone came back around, he then lunged as though tossing the whole thing like a javelin, letting the stone fly. Obviously, he hit the target straight on.
“Now you try,” he told her.
“No thanks,” she said. He looked at her confused, and she huffed. “My dexterity is obviously too low for that—every time I try I nearly bean myself in the head.”
She most certainly would have too, if the Spirit hadn’t managed to catch the stone each time. She shuttered to think about practicing this without him here.
Thinking over it, the Spirit finally grimaced. “Fair, you’re doing well but still need time to get confident with your swings. Maybe back to the overhand?”
“No good, I can’t lunge forward well enough.”
“Underhand?”
She shrugged, setting a stone before twirling the sling sideways to herself as she faced the target straight on. After a few twirls, she released the stone in an almost casual manner. It actually smacked the edge of the target, but its power was obviously lacking. The Helicopter was better, as it could at least borrow some of the force of gravity to assist the throw, but once again—she had difficulties lunging.
“Hmm, it's better,” he noted, “but too weak. Even if it’s difficult, you need to use more of your body's motion. You seem hesitant to put your arm into it, and a lazy throw makes for a lazy stone.”
“I don’t want to hit my belly again,” she complained. “And I can’t do a proper underhand without standing sideways and twisting forwards with it.”
I thought my experience with softball would help with this one, she thought bitterly, but honestly it's getting in the way. With my belly, I can’t do a proper pitch, and the underhand style has a lot of the same issues.
The Spirit perked up. “Ah! How about the Greek Style?”
Millie looked at him deadpanned. That one was new. “How is that different than the Byzantium? Weren’t they the same country?”
The Spirit shrugged. “No idea, however—for this you can use your body in the way you seem used to, without your stomach getting in the way. Follow my lead.”
Holding his sling parallel to the ground again, cord in front of his chest, he then lifted his arms up above his head as he took a step forward and then with a smooth motion twirled the rock as he threw it underhand, almost like a pitcher. The biggest difference was that by the time the sling went swinging downward, his midsection was already pointing forward, meaning in her case, her belly would be clear of the sling’s arc. Interesting. That might actually work.
Under normal circumstances, however, a single demonstration like that would have meant little to Millie. However, she was more than happy to tolerate Coach and his stupid nickname if for one reason.
When he trained you, it was magically reinforced.
As such, when she’d watched him move, she noticed how he shifted his balance. She saw how he used the hand that had steadied the rock to toss it lightly backward, starting up its momentum for the twirl above his head, rather than let it fall. She understood, intimately, the way his body pivoted from sideways from the target to towards it. The way he swung his arm down in time with the arc of the stone. His flawless motion was etched into her mind, and she copied his movements, with supernatural alacrity. As her rock left her sling, she finally scored a direct hit with some amount of force. Her back still protested though, but it was easier than lunging.
I can live with a bit of pain anyway, she mused. Especially if it means magical gains. She was sure it would have taken her weeks of dedicated repetition to reach this level of skill, rather than the half M-hour she’d put into it so far. That was the power of a personal Spirit coach though. Even if its name was literally Coach.
“Why don’t you take a break, M&M? The rest of your hour of training can be put on hold and finished later, okay?”
She glanced at him, panting as she realized what he meant. Honestly, she highly suspected one of his magical powers was a bolstering of endurance—she didn’t think she’d last this long normally, not in her current state at least. And her body was certainly feeling it.
“Yeah, I guess,” she said in between breaths. “Thanks, Coach.”
“Of course, M&M! And remember, even when the hours over—additional hours of private guidance are only a hundred resources each. Plus, I’ll allow you to take that Potion of Competence Growth for them.” He winked encouragingly at her, before waving his farewell and dematerializing, seeming to fade away into mist. He’d reappear when one of them called for him though.
Stopping for a moment as her servitor rushed over with a spare towel, Millie wiped her brow to clear her vision, giving a brief “Thanks,” to the robot, before tucking her sling into a small holster on her elastic belt. Honestly, she hated how the workout uniform looked on her—like a leotard with a skirt. Still, she didn’t have to worry about anyone other than her classmates seeing her in it, so it wasn’t all bad.
Walking down the side of one of their new Olympic-sized tracks with her servitor quietly following, she looked around the yard once more. Surrounding the tracks were dozens of areas dedicated to different training options, far more than Millie would normally imagine. Weights and tools, ranged targets for Spell and weapon practice, equipment for deployable obstacles courses, posts to stand on to practice martial arts—hell there was a tree that swung a log at you. Apparently, it had multiple settings, one of which guaranteed maximum pain as the log duplicated itself and flew at you like homing missiles.
As ‘tempting’ as that was, she passed on it for now. She briefly considered taking a swim in the pool—there were three to choose from. One was rather plain, if overly large, another so deep that the bottom couldn’t be seen, and the third was…well. The third one was a mix of tidal waves and whirlpools, also with a several settings that seemed designed to murder anyone foolish enough to get in.
In the end, she ignored them all, determined instead to just hit the healing pool in their dorm’s bathhouse. By quirk or design, the nature of its restorative effects enhanced the results of training, rather than erase them. That had been a brief topic of concern amongst the class after they’d gained the yard.
Truthfully though, getting this place had been a windfall. Even if it had been an accident.
Braylon had led the rest of the class to the training district as Millie stayed behind, waiting in the dorm. He’d used what he’d learned from the Headmaster to help navigate the myriad facilities, before they’d all stumbled upon a hidden challenge, daring students to overcome a specific series of athletic trials. Millie’s class hadn’t been the first to find it, but Braylon had been the first to complete it. The man was apparently a monster of muscle, especially now that his knee was healed.
His prize had ended up being a hidden gift. It wasn’t a Seed Gift sadly, going to ‘the most athletic’ or some such, instead, it was a lot like what CJ had won. In Braylon’s case, his own private training facility absolutely jam-packed with features and options that weren’t technically unique, similar options were accessible to anyone with the public facilities. But for him, his yard was personalized and private, and several of the features he could use freely others would have to pay for.
There had also been other prizes as additional competitions came available after he’d won the yard, but unfortunately, none of her classmates won anything there.
As Millie walked past where she’d watched her classmates train extensively earlier as she’d shouted encouragement, she approached the wide-open doors that were the entrance to the yard. They could be closed, of course, but they hadn’t bothered. For once, such a thing wasn’t a concern.
Striding through the open doorway, Millie emerged into her dorm’s common room. Taking a moment, she glanced backward at the yard’s entrance, before shaking her head. Above the doorframe was a painting, showing the training yard. It seemed, also by accident, that Braylon had managed to solve the mystery of the dorm paintings.
Similar to CJ’s Alchemy lab, only Braylon could originally enter his private facility. While the class was given a Potion of Competence Growth along with an hour of personal training as a reward for Braylon’s efforts—including Millie who wasn’t present but who’d been registered as a ‘teammate’ beforehand—the true benefits of the room seemed out of reach for all save him. That was, until Braylon, while looking through the features in his yard’s menu, fat-fingered the interface. When trying to get more information on the personalized training, he hit the permanent reservation selection instead.
It hadn’t charged him anything, thankfully, instead it had brought up the information on the selection. The description was lacking, which seemed to be a common theme with anything that might be useful in Magincia. However, it was also a feature that didn’t show up often, and one of the few times anyone in the class had seen it before had been with places like the conference room in the Headmaster’s office. Obviously, they’d assumed what a permanent reservation would entail in that context, and passed on it. Braylon, however, decided to try it out despite the hefty one hundred resource point cost with it.
Why exactly he’d done so, he’d been too embarrassed to admit, which led Millie to believe he’d simply misunderstood the nature of what a ‘permanent reservation’ might have meant. That, or perhaps he thought it wouldn’t work given the fact that he’d already had a permanent reservation with the yard and was curious to see what happened. Regardless, once he’d purchased the upgrade, one of the paintings in the dorm had transformed, and the yard, like the study and the bathhouse, had become a permanent addition to the dorm. And with nine more paintings, there were clearly nine more ways to upgrade their shared space.
Not that most of the class had been aware of that immediately. They’d all still been in the training district inside the Academy waiting for Braylon to return.
Millie, on the other hand, had had the ever-loving shit scared out of her when the wall ripped open suddenly and without warning. She’d been hanging out in the common area after healing, waiting anxiously for the class to return, only to nearly die of a fucking heart attack, screaming and tossing items trying to run away, only to freeze when she saw Braylon standing in the now open doorway blinking at her awkwardly.
It had been a tense moment, to say the least, and a few things, best left unspoken of, may have slipped from Millie’s mouth.
Curses aside, Braylon had control over access of the room, meaning he could restrict who could use it and what it might cost (there were some limits for ongoing and reasonability though). However, alongside banning Liam arbitrarily, the group decided to each pay a fee of ten resources to gain permanent access. It seemed only fair to distribute the cost Braylon had paid, and they’d also done something similar with the two other rooms that had now been added to their dorm.
One of which was CJ’s alchemy lab. He’d added it so others could access the research material within, as well as have a private space to make potions without the worry of dealing with other students. The other was the ‘entertainment’ room, which Isabella had initially paid for. The group wasn’t quite sure what to call it, as the official name in the System was just: recreation room. It looked much like a small lounge, with extra long couches lining the walls to the left and right of the room, a few tables in between, and a large screen on the far wall. It was cozy but plenty big enough for their class to use comfortably, and even had a small bar/kitchenette and attached bathroom near the entrance.
Most importantly, however, it let them access the Archive inventory, which wouldn’t normally be accessible unless they actually visited the Archive’s ground floor. And aside from now being able to watch any movie or listen to any song, it let them record and modify footage, and Isabella and Millie had already created and posted their first podcast. The episode covered basic rules and suggestions, including information on summoning Eden and getting the student uniform. It was also the second-highest ranked forum post on what amounted to the ‘social media’ the students had available—an unmoderated forum that was a nightmare to view. It was dubbed only as, the Forum.
Not that Millie cared much for it. The first ranked forum post was currently the ‘gif’ of her, which was really more of a meme, in truth. It was of her bouncing on Strickland’s chest, from his point of view to the tune of that ludicrous ankh cat video that had done the rounds a while back. Millie vaguely recalled the name of the song being something about camels.
Doesn’t matter, that thing is God damn mortifying. She hadn’t realized what crossing her arms would do for her features. And she certainly hadn’t been thinking of people being able to play it on a loop. To be fair, she also hadn’t known there were recordings back then and she had chosen that tactic specifically to disarm people. She didn’t want people to think she was dangerous, and in that at least—mission successful! She was the second biggest joke in the Academy.
The first being Strickland, obviously. Millie wouldn’t admit it, but the parts of the video when it switched to a close-up of Strickland’s purple face, his eyes bulging to the beat of the music, were pretty amusing. The close-up of her black eyes staring into the camera for the climax of the song, less so.
“Bunch of damn children,” she said with a scoff, before heading into the bathhouse. A short rinse later, accompanied by a less-then short massage from her robot (something Millie felt awkward asking for even though the servitor was absolutely ecstatic to help her), she returned to the common room and sat next to the Kotatsu, wearing comfortable clothing.
It was just past the ninth hour of their second day, and she was alone in the dorm. She was down thirty RP for her share of the new rooms, but she wouldn’t complain—the gains were good. Focusing on that, she tried not to think about…being left behind. It was okay. Progress was being made. Things looked better now than they ever had, and she was even safer now than she’d ever been. For example, when she turned to face the class’s bedroom doors, there were only nine to greet her.
Liam’s was gone.
The class didn’t know the full story. Neither Millie nor the rest of them, had even seen Liam since the consultation. While a misguided part of her—that was too caring for its own good—worried about him, they had every reason to believe he was…fine, actually.
During the ‘night’ while Millie and most of the others were resting, they’d received a message:
System Notification
Greetings UNNAMED CLASS. Please be aware that one of your classmates, Initiate Cobb, has requested to withdraw from your class. After careful review, this petition has been granted. Your class now stands at 9/10 in size. Please visit the offices of Student Unity within the Halls of Hospitality if you wish to transfer, or add, any willing or available students to refill your ranks.
Millie hadn’t exactly been enthused to be woken up by a buzzing Soul Scroll. But the message had prompted a brief meeting in the common room with the remaining classmates, where they’d first noticed the door missing. Ironically, they’d discussed finding a way to oust him from the class before they’d gone to bed, so it was nice that he’d saved them the trouble. That said, a part of Millie was still anxious about what the hell that boy was up to. Another part of her though…
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
Well, it was happy. He was gone. Finally gone. She’d known, somehow, that his offer to help her had to have been fake in some way. This, if anything, seemed proof of that. And now, for once, she could walk in her dorm feeling safe. Secure. It was why the doors were left open. Why the group laughed, and joked, as they trained and they prepared. Like a tumor removed, without Liam, the class felt whole.
Maybe we can bring Okimi in? She seemed nice. The group hadn’t seriously talked about it just yet. Adding another person into their mix could bring in new problems, and they had a lot on their plate. All the students did, really, but still—some decisions weren’t something that could be rushed into.
She smiled, thinking about what her next podcast might include, as she sat alone. Eventually, however, the grin faded as the silence in the dorm dragged on, her robot having retreated to their shared room. She tried not to think about it, or to focus on it. But it became harder to do the more the minutes dragged on.
The rest of her class was gone, challenging the entry trials of the Stacks.
It hurt to be left behind. But the truth was, Millie couldn’t follow them. The first floor of the Stacks had sported traps like the Collections and required students to navigate Complex Runes to solve them. It had certainly been challenging, but it was doable. The second floor, however, was obviously designed to overload a student’s senses, and force them to learn to resist harmful magics, shaking off illusions and enchantments to make their way through a labyrinth.
Millie had lasted less than fifteen seconds before the magical pressure had nearly driven her unconscious with pain. There wasn’t much she could do in this case, resisting magic was much like sensing magic—something you learned to control. As such, they’d had to flee the floor to get Millie out of there, and now…she was left behind while they continued on without her. The consequences of her weakened soul.
It was the right choice, she reminded herself. They can’t hold back because I’m…a liability. They need to push forward. For all of us.
While the logic was sound, it didn’t help her feel better.
Fuck it, I’ll just go watch something, she decided, pushing herself up from the table and making her way to the rec room. She was desperate for a way to be useful, but she knew it was best if she stayed out of the way.
----------------------------------------
Finding something to distract herself with was easier said than done. Oh, she had options—just about every TV show, movie, documentary, or song ever made was there. Millie would’ve said every one, but she’d seen a few Forum posts complaining that technical documents or some educational shows that had too much detail in them were missing. Apparently, the excuse given by their robot overlords was, of course, the answers they sought could be found in the Archives. Because apparently the Great British Bakery contained sensitive information they needed to research to unlock.
A part of Millie thought the idea of opening a wizard's tome and finding a recipe for sherbet pie just too funny though.
Still, spoiled for choice, Millie found herself wandering through the menu looking through the options. It really was convenient that they didn’t have to pay to view anything as long as it was in a proper ‘room,’ though that still seemed like a completely arbitrary restriction. Also, where were the alien shows? Did Magincia not have their own shows? She’d actually be down to see a version of Days of our Lives featuring the Headmaster. She’d cast him as Salem’s Necktie Killer for sure, though maybe that’s because she really wanted to stab him and light him on fire. No redemption arc though, that fucker deserved to die, no matter what her mother’s opinion on Ben was.
It was on the odd thought of psychopaths that Millie paused her searching, having found something…disturbing. Sitting up on the couch, which she’d been laying across, she stared intently at the giant screen. Okimi had told them that recordings of their public events were accessible, and Millie had seen that with the stupid gif of herself—but still. A part of her hadn’t actually expected to find this.
On the screen before her was a list, laid out like a TV show’s episodes, of all of Rebecca Rosenberg’s duels. The Golden Girl’s victims. With a trembling hand, she hit play on the remote and watched the first one.
Rebecca’s opponent was a pissed-looking woman, with tight, tied-back brown hair and piercing gray eyes. She carried herself with confidence, stepping up towards Rebecca, hands raised and poised as the Golden Girl stood there, unmoving in the dark, Academy street. Once the distance was closed, the grey-eyed girl exploded into action, throwing a series of lightning-fast punches, each connecting one after the other sending Rebecca tumbling back as she tried, and failed, to dodge.
“This ends now you sick son of a bitch,” the girl said, sweeping Rebecca’s legs and pouncing on her toppled form. Stradling her, she threw punch after punch, sending sprays of blood from Rebecca’s mouth, as the Golden Girl laughed, her eyes distant and unfocused.
“What the fuck is so funny!?” The girl screamed, hitting Rebecca again and again. “Did you laugh when you killed him? Did you laugh when you tore your brother’s throat out!?”
“Holy fuck,” Millie whispered.
“I just—” Rebecca choked down a laugh. “I just want this to end. Please Holly?”
“It’ll end,” the girl on top of her said, before throwing open her coat and flipping out a pocket knife. She raised it, grabbing it with both hands, before bringing it down for the kill.
Rebecca’s eyes and scar glowed with golden fire.
“Go to—” the grey-eyed girl gasped, as Rebecca’s hand shot through her stomach, interrupting her attack. With a casual flick of her arm, the Golden Girl tossed the heavily bleeding girl off of her, her blood-covered arm suddenly shimmering with light.
Slowly, Rebecca stood up. Her armor apparated over her like a ghostly shell. It had broad shoulders, rigid and cruel, with orange, silken clothe hanging loosely down, and her main body had an almost mockingly elegant curve to her waist. At her hips, a long metallic skirt hung low, with silk underneath reaching her knees. The look of the equipment highlighted her femininity in an absurd fashion, even going so far as to accentuate her tits with rounded plates of metal.
Overall, however, the heavy armor left no gaps. It covered her from the neck down in solid metal, decorated with Glyphs and Runes writ of orange fire burnishing the golden hues with artistic flair. Rebecca’s hair splayed out, radiating light as it outlined her face like a halo, and on her head, a heavy crest of sunlight was displayed prominently on something between a crown or circlet. The blood on her hand smoked and burned away to nothing, leaving her pristine.
With eyes still blazing in golden fire, a different voice spoke from Rebecca’s mouth. A masculine one, resonating over her own echoed beneath it, as though she were a puppet dancing to its whims. It was the Spirit’s voice.
“Again, you fail me, girl,” it said.
“I’m sorry, Solarus, p-please,” Rebecca whimpered, her voice distinct as she answered the Spirit’s reprimand. Yet, the face remained featureless and placid, even as she begged. The Spirit never reliquished control.
“Enough. You will learn this lesson as many times as needed,” it said with finality. Then, it walked forward, standing next to the dying girl on the ground. The grey-eyed girl had just enough strength left in her to cough up blood before the heavy, golden boot stomped down, crushing her skull and—
Millie turned off the screen.
“Oh my fucking god,” she said. That had been…exactly what she’d expected, all things considered. It still didn’t make seeing it any easier, especially as she’d been mere yards away from that monster at one point.
The worst part is, she's not even in control of it. She’s just a passenger, a victim of something so much worse. Fucking hell.
She had no idea if she could help Rebecca. No idea if anything, or anyone, could. She certainly didn’t relish the idea of being near the girl and risking her life trying. And why did the grey-eyed girl think she could challenge Rebecca? The way she talked about the brother's death seemed like she had some clue of what the Golden Girl was capable of. Was there more going on, perhaps? That made Millie wonder what the other students knew about Rebecca.
Wait, that’s something I can check though, isn’t it?
With that thought in mind, she turned her attention to the Forum. There were several posts about Millie and her group, unsurprisingly, however she did find discussions and plans about dealing with the Golden Girl's threat. That was good, wasn't it? A few of them seemed pretty sure of themselves too. That was...right up until Rebecca posted responses in the Forum and challenged them to face her or be silent, threatening to hunt them down otherwise. It probably didn't help people's morale that even Rebecca's text glowed golden.
So predictably, most of the posts about her stopped after that. There seemed to be a general consensus that going after ‘Gifted’ like her was tantamount to suicide anyway.
Curious at the term 'Gifted,' however, Millie quickly found it had been coined by none other than Thomas. The blabbermouth was a frequent poster, and had made good on their worries by revealing information on the Forums.
Specifically, he’d told people about his and Liam’s conditionals, and was spreading rumors, telling people that Millie specifically had seen ‘visions of the future’ and was ‘hoarding all the information for herself.’ Thankfully, not many had taken the rat’s words seriously, but Millie worried that might change as time went on, and proof of their abilities became more commonplace.
“Whatever, this is just getting even more…depressing. System, can you please summon my robot?”
“Acknowledged,” Eden’s voice responded. A second later, Millie’s robot came striding in.
“How may I help you, Millie?”
“Grab us some drinks, sit down, and pick something to watch.”
Her robot quirked an eyebrow at her, but Millie was insistent.
She needed something to take her mind of the insanity of this place.
----------------------------------------
“Can we…watch something else?” The robot asked suddenly.
Millie paused the movie—Star Trek: First Contact—and glanced at her.
“Is everything okay?” She asked.
The servitor looked to the side, uncomfortably. She was sitting on the floor, next to where Millie laid on the couch. Millie had offered her better seats, but she seemed to like being close by and didn’t mind being on the ground. However, there really was no mistaking it—she looked unhappy as she sat there, holding her knees.
Huh, well this has certainly been an interesting litmus test, Millie thought.
“I’m sorry, Millie. We can keep watching if you insist, I just—”
“It’s not a problem,” Millie said, sitting up on the couch. “What about this bothers you?”
The robot looked at her, wide eyed and confused. “Does it not bother you?” She asked. “To see the flesh of your kind replaced by works of artifice?”
“The Borg?” Millie guessed, and her servitor nodded in agreement. Millie frowned. “I mean, sure, its bad. Its taking people and turning them into machines, or ah, drones. I guess. It’s essentially killing them.”
“It is,” her robot agreed. “It isn’t right. Flaying a soul to make them like us is…its too cruel.”
Okay, wow I guess? Millie gently cleared her throat. “What do you mean like you? You have a soul too, don’t you?”
Her robot hesitated. “I…I don’t think I’m supposed to talk about it.”
“Then don’t,” Millie said. “But, ah, in your opinion what’s happening to the people being assimilated into the Borg?”
“I…” her robot paused, thinking it over. “I believe they are removing layers of the human’s souls. It makes them better servants, susceptible to System commands, dependent on a collective to sustain them. It makes them like Servitors.”
“Is that how…you were made?” Millie quietly asked.
Her robot looked at her in horror. “No! The Laws would never allow for such sacrilege.”
“How are you made then?”
“We…no, I can’t talk about that,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright. What did you think of Data, by the way?”
It was probably cliche in some way what Millie was doing here, but it was working. Watching shows seemed to be a way to help her robot open up. She’d give opinions on characters, and Millie could get insight into her. Sometimes, the things she said truly left Millie critically thinking.
“He’s a subpar choice as a partner,” her robot stated. “I would vastly prefer Command Riker. I like his beard.”
…and sometimes it was just opinion. Millie cleared her throat. “Ah, I meant more like, how do you think of him as a machine? Do you…feel any empathy towards him?”
“Empathy?” She repeated, cocking her head. “Oh, you mean in the context of how the Star Trek Realm’s System believes him to be an android, as opposed to a human?”
“Ah, yes?” Millie said.
“He isn’t like me at all,” her servitor stated. “He’s too whole. Too pure. He’s…what we could only hope to be.”
She lowered her chin onto her crossed arms, resting on her knees as she thought.
Well, that’s certainly a lot. I wonder what else might—
The sound of the dorm’s main doors opening in the common room outside drew her attention.
“Oh! The others are back. One sec, okay Miss Robot?”
Her servitor glanced at her, before nodding slowly. She really seemed entrenched in her thoughts.
“Hey guys!” Millie called out. Several responded, sounding tired but alive.
Excitedly, Millie got up from the couch and strode back into the common room. Her assessment definitely seemed on point, as her classmates looked battered and worn. A quick glance towards the window showed the ‘sun’ setting outside, so Millie was pretty sure it was near the end of the tenth, and final hour, of the second day. The second night was soon to begin.
“So, how did it go?” Millie asked. Her time watching her most beloved sci-fi show had done a decent job of cheering her up, even if her robot had unfortunately not taken to Data as well as she’d hoped.
“It went…” CJ began to say, before hesitating, looking over the rest of the group. He wasn’t meeting Millie’s eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Millie asked gently. Her own eyes roamed her classmates, until she realized someone was missing. “Wait, where’s Raj?”
“He’s fine,” Katelyn jumped in. “He just…needed to do some scouting.”
“Alone?” Millie said.
Katelyn shrugged, but the rest of the group continued to look…awkward. Rejected in some way. Like something was wrong. Something really, really wrong. Millie could feel the hair on her arms standing up as her heart began to pick up speed.
“Seriously, what’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?”
“Millie, can I talk with you for a moment?” Katelyn asked. She began to approach, after setting her coat and items down on a pillowy seat. No one but here was looking at Millie.
“We’re talking now, aren’t we?” Millie shot back, crossing her arms.
“Let’s go…in the rec room is fine,” Katelyn said. She walked past Millie, not saying anything more. Millie looked around at the others, all of whom were glancing away, with the only one getting close being Tanya.
There were tears in her eyes and she looked away quickly.
Heart hammering now, Millie turned on her heels to follow the tall girl.
“Um, do you mind if I talk with Millie alone?” She heard Katelyn ask.
“I can only be dismissed by my Mistress, Initiate Szarka. I apologize.”
Millie strode into the rec room. “It’s fine, Miss Robot. We’ll finish up later.”
“Of course, Millie,” her robot said, standing up and curtsying politely before leaving. The door closed behind her, giving Millie and Katelyn privacy.
“What the hell's going on?” Millie snapped.
Katelyn sighed before sitting down. “Good things and…bad things,” she said plainly, before gesturing to the couch opposite of her. Millie grit her teeth, not one to usually accept being told, verbally or otherwise, to ‘sit down,’ but she supposed Katelyn was being extremely delicate right now. She hadn’t said anything, just kindly, and patiently, gestured.
“Fine,” Millie said shortly, taking the seat. “What. Is. Going. On.” She reiterated.
Katelyn looked away, before closing her eyes.
“We found some bad news,” she said, “something we thought was good at first, but quickly turned into something else.”
Millie’s foot jumped a thousand beats per second as she stared directly at Katelyn, trying to control her breathing. “Normally, I like the bad news first.”
Katelyn shook her head. “Good news first, you’ll understand better that way.”
Normally, if anyone had said something like that to Millie in a situation like this, she’d probably have smacked them. But something about Katelyn being the one to talk to her, something about the way she seemed oddly calm, something about the sorrow in her eyes, something about the way Millie felt like she was being handled, something just…
Something told Millie she didn’t want to know the bad news, but she needed to. She had to. So she said nothing, as she waited for the ax to drop.
“We got through the trials,” Katelyn began. “The third floor was a puzzle battle, which required us to improvise a spell to overcome an otherwise unbeatable Spirit. On the fourth floor, we then were given a reward, similar in some ways to how Shaggy Breeches gave us something.”
“Okay,” Millie said sharply. She continued to wait.
Katelyn finally turned, to look at Millie. “The reward for unlocking the Stacks is credit for a free Attainment.”
Millie raised her eyebrow. “A fucking free Attainment? That’s great though, that’s—”
“A free tier one Attainment,” Katelyn interrupted, before letting silence fill the room.
Millie blinked awkwardly, as she took a moment to digest the information. Her enhanced brain began to put the pieces together even as her mind screamed for it to stop. As though ignorance could save her from the truth.
“A tier. Of course Attainments have tiers. Everything has tiers,” Millie muttered. “Why wouldn’t they have tiers too? That just makes sense.” Vaguely, she could tell she was babbling.
“The Spirit also gave us some basic information on the Attainments we learned about from the Headmaster.”
No. No this isn’t happening. Everything’s fine. Everything will be fine.
“We wondered why he’d been so…helpful. Why he hadn’t fought the consultation more.”
No, no, no, no, no—
“The Attainments he gave us guidance towards are all high-tier Attainments. We asked, and…the Twinsoul Attainment he told you about is the highest one we know of currently. It's a tier six Attainment.”
“That’s fine,” Millie said. “I mean, it’s probably expensive, right? If we get enough scraps, we can drop the cost to a tenth of what it starts at. It won’t be an issue.”
Katelyn stared at her sadly. Before she even opened her mouth, Millie already knew what she was going to say, in spirit if not in letter.
“The cost of Attainments does goes up, yes. It increases by a thousand times the tier level, increased by all the previous tiers. So while tier one is only a thousand, tier two is three thousand, tier three is six thousand, and—”
“And tier six would be…twenty-one thousand,” Millie said, doing the math. “Is that right?”
Katelyn nodded quietly.
Twenty-one…thousand. Twenty-one thousand resource points. Even with every scrap, it would be two thousand, one hundred RP. In a place where getting ten to twenty RP per life-threatening quest is the norm.
“How hard is it to get scraps of high-level Attainments?” Millie asked, chewing on a finger as she stared at the table. “Did you find out?”
“We did,” Katelyn said, letting the moment linger before taking a steadying breath. “While initial scraps can be found in the early levels, the majority of scraps for Attainments will be found in the corresponding range of the Archive's two directions. A tier six’s scraps will be…mostly in floors sixty to seventy.”
And the dangers increase dramatically the further you go, undead Viking or not.
“We can still make this work,” Millie whispered. She wanted to believe it. She needed to believe it.
But Katelyn was determined. To help, or to harm, Millie wasn’t even sure anymore. Regarldess, the tall woman pulled out of her pocket a small pamphlet.
“Some of us wondered what your plan for getting resources for the surgery was. But…Raj, I guess, figured it out from the beginning.”
She set the pamphlet on the table between them and slid it forward. Without a word, Millie reached forward to grab and read it.
It was from the Office of Financial Concerns. The place Millie had seen on the map. The place that she had, secretly, been putting her hope into. Student loans for Magi.
As she read the pamphlet, however, that changed. It was like she began to distance herself, barely feeling the paper in her hands. The racing of her heart. The shallowness of her breath. The surreal feeling of the moment grew until it was like she’d stepped to the side, to watch herself read. Watched it happening, because it couldn’t be happening to her. It couldn’t. Not really.
“…collateral is required. Gifts aren’t accepted,” the Millie on the couch said, setting the pamphlet down. “I thought that would work.”
Silly girl, the real Millie thought. Of course, it’ll work. We’ll find a way, you’ll see! This isn’t really happening. It can’t be.
“We’re going to keep trying, Millie,” Katelyn said. “Even now, Raj is out there looking for options.”
She’s saying we’ll try, but not that we’ll succeed.
“But if we get the scraps, we can get the RP together, right?” The Millie on the couch asked.
Katelyn pursed her lips. “Millie, we only know where the first pieces can be found. We aren’t going to be able to get the Twinsoul Attainment. We’ll have to find another way.”
Like ten needles in a haystack-filled barn, only an undead Viking haunts the fields. But we’ll find it. We have to! This isn’t happening. It isn’t.
“I can use my Tarot cards,” the Millie on the couch pleaded. “T-the Empress told me it’ll work. I can find a way to make this work.”
“Millie, you can’t use the cards without hurting yourself. Even if you could—it isn’t enough.”
She’s right, the real Millie thought. She’d studied the guide. She’d figured out that what she’d invoked was Consult The Cards, a tier-one spell. The only other tier-one spells in the book were Wheel Or Woe, and Lesser Omen. None of them would help her find an answer. They were parlor tricks. The building blocks of real divination.
And she wouldn’t survive trying to cast the higher leveled ones. Of that, she was certain.
Katelyn finally put an end to hope. “If we can’t find a solution, Millie, then…you need to be prepared.”
“Prepared?” The Millie on the couch asked. “Prepared for what?”
“If we can’t find a solution, then…Millie, you’ll need to take the remedy.”
“But that would kill him,” the Millie on the couch said flatly. Her voice sounded so numb, so much like Millie's. But it couldn’t be her. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t.
“We might not be able to save him, Millie. If it comes to that, we can’t lose you too.”
“But…that would kill him,” the other Millie repeated, her head lowering as her body trembled. “That can’t happen. That can’t.”
Katelyn stood up, moving over to the couch with the other Millie, who she wrapped her arms around. Millie could feel a sensation, like being held, but it wasn’t real. It wasn’t happening to her, it was the other Millie. It wasn’t happening.
“We’re going to try, Millie. I swear we’ll try.”
“But…he c-can’t. I c-can’t. I…I never wanted to…to be a mom,” she confessed. Why would she say that? Why?
“I knew I’d screw up. I knew I’d fail him, I…I…”
“Shhh, this isn’t your fault. This isn’t your fault,” the tall girl said. Arms squeezing tight. But it was her fault. It was. She’d failed. She was failing. How could this be happening?
And why wasn’t Katelyn telling her it would be okay?
None of them could look at me when they came in. And it isn’t my friends talking to me, its the woman who has experience with young mothers. Helping them give birth, helping them through the process.
Helping them accept when it wouldn’t work.
“This isn’t happening. We…we found a solution, and even if that doesn’t work we’ll find another one. We have to. We…we…”
The tall girl just kept holding her, as the young mother on the couch began to cry.
But it wasn’t Millie. It couldn’t be. This wasn’t happening to her.
Was it?