[Log 3.13]

[Anyway, this is Firewall]

I didn’t get an immediate response, and when I said their name again, I got another line of code.

[User CHRIs is currently busy: Code_dojo.exe]

You’d think I’d gotten used to it, but having information hammered into my consciousness still smarted. I motioned for Zephyro to get going, cutting off his objections with a stern look, and we resumed hurrying over the rooftops.

Chris! I thought a third time while jumping across a short gap. It was a 10-meter drop to the street below, by my estimate. I didn’t have time to look.

[User CHRIs is currently busy: Code_dojo.exe]

I grunted in frustration. Chris always did this. Every single fucking time.

They’d sink their teeth into something, and everything else was chopped liver. No matter they would usually get distracted by literally anything, once a problem caught their attention, it was a complete communication breakdown. We’d fought over it a lot. More often than was healthy. More often than I probably should have.

Chris, please. I need you to help me with this, I can’t do it myself.

Boop.

You don’t want to help me? I thought, keeping my mental tone nice and calm. I knew getting angry at them wouldn’t end well for either of us. Plus, I had promised…

Boop... Boop!

My next jump went a bit farther than I would have liked, and I landed on the next roof with a annoyed grunt.

Start making sense!

Deep breaths, Sam. Deep breaths.

…Please.

Instead of an answer, I received another readout.

{SYSTEMS:

ACTIVE:

[Pharus, Wrath of the Torchbearer] v.01 - Electronic Warfare Suite - 3 LKB

DEFENSIVE: NONE

PASSIVE:

memOS - 3 LKB

SAINTECH DPM v0.1 - 2 LKB

drivers_sensory_Sam_v_0.1 - 2 LKB

FREE: 0 LKB}

I winced.

Beep. Beep.

Still lost, I scanned over the list again until my thoughts snagged on the Electronic Warfare Suite. I had made that myself, hadn’t I? But how?

{AVAILABLE LOGIC - 232 LB}

Beep.

I slowed down to a jog as Zephyro and I reached the edge of yet another rooftop bordering a larger street. Sounds of fighting washed over the edge, mixing with the crackling of the fire around us and the distant screams of civilians. Again I was reminded of Advance’s Pinnacle, and fleeing from the capitol. Just this time, I’m running into the heart of the city, not from it.

I rested bent forward, breath coming heavy, and rested my palms on my knees.

{Core Temp: 78° C}

“Give me a second,” I said to Zephyro as he came to stand next to me. He nodded, then walked a few steps farther and peered down into the street below. He flinched with every clash of metal on metal, every scream.

I considered my robes. They were well-made, and their flexibility had served me well so far. Good range of movement, regal enough to make a good impression—or to stand out in a battle—even after I had lost many of the ornaments on our trip to the heart of the city. At the same time, they were form-fitting without being needlessly erotic. I understood that just the right amount of neckline and a little padding around the shoulders could do wonders if you wanted people to believe you were in charge. I wouldn’t have pushed my career to the executive level if I hadn’t. I also knew that on a battlefield, exposed flesh meant a weak spot the enemy could exploit. I’d once killed a man by stabbing him in the codpiece and letting him bleed out, but nobody had been around to see it. Bad for PR.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

My robes, however, seemed to strike a good balance between the two. Clearly, someone had put a lot of thought into fitting it to the body I found myself in. And while the brown skin still caught me by surprise a little every time I looked at my dangerously exposed hands, everything else was well-covered as far as I could see. Even my neck was wrapped in the robe equivalent of a high collar. Sturdy cloth, too. I couldn’t find a single rip or tear, despite all the acrobatics we’d had to do so far.

The biggest problem was that none of it was armored. A sharp enough blade would slice it open as easily as silk, and I was sure that even if the spider hadn’t hit my exposed hand, it wouldn’t have had much of an issue to pierce the fabric with those arc-welder fangs.

But still, the cloth offered some protection, and that was enough to start with. I closed my eyes, focused on the concept of feeling protected, of defending myself, of standing against the assault. Then I exhaled.

The sound of my Wish echoed through the streets, the smoke cleared, the stars shone a little brighter, and for a second, everything was quiet.

{CONSUMED LOGIC - 30 LB}

{AVAILABLE LOGIC - 202 LB}

{Gloria Sancta.}

{GARMENT_SULTANA_V14_NOT_FINAL_REVISION_DRAFT

IS NOW

[Arx, Saint's Embrace] v. 0.1 - Network Security System}

{NEW PROGRAM INSTALLED:}

{[Arx, Saint's Embrace] v. 0.1 - Network Security System}

{A simple Network Security System automatically monitoring incoming requests for access. Repeated requests or advanced methods of forcing system access cause [VERY HIGH] increase in CPU load. Sufficiently sophisticated attacks will bypass this program entirely. Automatic shutoff at [80 °C] core temperature.

Required CPU load: Varies, min. 10% at current CPU quality.

Required RAM: 3 LKB}

{CPU Load: 75%}

{Core Temp: 79° C}

{Memory: 10/10 LKB RAM}

[//run Arx.exe]

{INSUFFICIENT MEMORY}

[//SUDO exit Arx.exe]

Again the words appeared in my mind like fired into it with a machine gun. Trying to ignore the pain in my head, I focused on my breathing. Why had I gotten more information on my firewall than on the Torch? Why did it shut itself off at 80° core temperature? Why—It didn’t matter. I had to put it on and get moving again.

Alright, more memory this time. I knew enough to understand RAM stood for rapid access memory, so something like short-term memory. Was I actually going to pump pure Wishpower into my brain? Or what counted as my brain, anyway? I tried not to think about the times I had used my Wish on humans. This is different, Sam. You can do it.

Don’t mind can or can’t. I had to do it. I took a calming breath, then focused.

I remembered multitasking, and how much it sucked. I pushed all the studies I had read about how bad task switching was for productivity out of my mind. Instead, I focused on all the times I had cooked while I was on one conference call or another, or had answered emails in a meeting. I remembered thinking strategically and tactically at the same time, neck-deep in enemy forces.

Another brief moment of concentration. Another sharp intake of breath. Another exhalation. Another bell tolling through the streets, fanning the flames.

{CONSUMED LOGIC - 60 LB}

{AVAILABLE LOGIC - 142 LB}

{Memory: 10/10 LKB RAM

IS NOW

Memory: 13/20 LKB RAM}

[//run Arx.exe]

{NOW RUNNING: [Arx, Saint's Embrace] v. 0.1 - Network Security System}

My robes shifted around me, losing much of their airy design. The color changed from dusky reds to darker tones, more burgundy with a hint of purple. The sleeves wrapped around my arms tightly, as did the pants around my legs. Around my chest, the cloth duplicated like a snake shedding skin. The deeper layer padded itself, becoming sturdier. The outer layer elongated as if it had absorbed all the excess flow from the rest of the cloth, molding itself into a short tabard that started with a loose polo neck and ended a few centimeters above my knees, slimming as it went. It was held in place with a black combat-mesh belt that snapped around my stomach with a satisfying click of a square buckle.

It was all very stylish and comfortable. But most importantly, as all the frills and symbols of office sunk into the cloth, padded sections flowed out from around my chest to cover my upper arms and thighs. My lower arms and legs were still dangerously exposed, but properly armored combat gloves and boots finished the ensemble.

I raised my arms and twisted a little, briefly examining myself. Whereas before I had fit into the theme of medieval Middle Eastern Earth perfectly, I definitely stood out now. To call it anachronistic would have been an understatement. I could have worn my new outfit to any Berliner nightclub and wouldn’t have had issues at the door.

Well, maybe except for KitKat. Not enough uncovered skin and not enough rubber at the same time.

As a final check, I patted the armored sections. They gave a satisfying metallic thump. I nodded, satisfied. Everything was quiet, and up above, most of the night sky was already gone. From our vantage point, I could see the void had already swallowed parts of the outer walls. Rearing to go, I turned back to Zephyro.

I found him observing me half in quiet wonder, half in concern. “You must never let anyone see what you just did, Sultana,” he said.

“Because it is forbidden?” I asked, checking for the Torch at my side. It sat in a neat little loop on my belt that I hadn’t even noticed before.

Zephyro shook his head. “No, because any who sees it will be jealous. Consider the magnitude of your gift, oh Sultana. You are the only one I have ever seen who can control your Blessing like you do. You can create every tool you might ever need. Even the most powerful of our kind would fall before your skill in time if only you will it, and had enough of your Blessing at hand. Can you see the advantage you can offer to anyone who is desperate, foolish, and heretical enough to try and force you?”

A short moment later, realization dawned. I cleared my throat. “I am stuck in a computer. I can’t run. Everyone I know in the real world is probably dead, and can’t come to save me… If someone finds out what I can do and gets a hold of the laptop…”

“Yes, Sultana. If they discover both who you are and what you can do, and that your spirit still lies within your last refuge, all will be lost.”

“They’re going to shackle me…” I breathed.

“Yes, Sultana. To force you to build weapons for their other Shackled.”

Something that felt like ice started filling my lungs. “Zephyro, before you contacted me, someone already started to…” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

“They did, Sultana. The Old Guard stopped them and one of the Guard, remembering his divine purpose, called out to me to awaken you, to better prepare you for what is to come.”

Around us, all was quiet still. As I thought about it, I noticed that it had been quiet ever since I created Arx and upgraded the hardware. I frowned.

“I inserted your mind into my system where they would not expect it and hid the thin strand between your Being and your refuge. It is impossible for them to know who you are, and that you are hidden inside the Tool of the Maker.”

Following his logic, I said: “This is the first time humans attacked you, right?”

“True, Sultana. This tells me that they don’t know what is hidden deep within the Palace.”

“They would have come for me far earlier if they did,” I agreed. “But why are they here now?” Our conversation filled the silence, only interrupted by the faint crackle of flame and a few cries more distant still.

“Two enemies, two reasons, Sultana. The Humans seek your treasures, and to enslave us. The Ferals seek to—“

“FEAST,” said the giant wolf as he jumped up from the street. It landed with an effortless, almost languid motion that made the rooftop shake under our feet.