《The Four Knights of Eden》 Prologue Battlefield. Flames raging, gun blazing, sirens resounding all over. Centuries after the birth of a true interstellar era, humanity evolved to adapt and acclimate the multitude of biospheres and ecosystems that pervade the extremities of the cosmos. People able to breathe underwater, people who grew wings to fly, people who could survive the vacuum of space, just a few of those who evolved to dwell in harsh environments unsuitable for the base species to survive. Then, there were people who could spew fire, people whose mastery over magnetic forces allow them to call upon torrents of lightning bolts unto their enemies, people who could lift and crush mountains with bare hands; these were those who evolved to fight against predators that made dinosaurs seem like ants. Of course, there were milder cases of evolution, albeit still beyond the scope of human means. Geniuses capable of performing better than supercomputers, inspectors whose eyesight could bore through the earth in search of mineral deposits, bloodlines born from the mix-and-mash of different species. It wasn''t magic, but technological advancement combined with natural evolution that might as well be magic to the eyes of the ancient laymen. Yet, throughout those centuries, one thing remained constant in the state of human affairs: war. The evolution process merely accelerated and aggravated the already-mangled issues of race that humanity is struggling with. If different colors of skin could set them apart from each other, what more could different abilities, looks, and environments lead to do? War could not be any more of an understatement of the calamities that followed. Humanity had never been at the top of the galactic food chain, nor even the intergalactic chain of command (discovery of other intelligent beings led to information of a bigger scale of civilization that spanned over numerous galaxies). The rifts between its numerous factions simply led to more chaos in their ranks, and pushed back the hard-fought frontlines. Humanity had never been in such drastic and grave plight. Yet, they remain adamant that only a certain subspecies could rule over the rest. Torn between a war within, and war without, humanity was on the brink of their biggest loss. ? ? ? Back in the home planet, Earth. Under the ruins of nuclear fallouts, biochemical breakouts, and ecological extinction lie one of the ancient bunkers during the first wars. Abandoned and littered with failures and prototypes, it was enough for the outcasts of the space age. There lived a community no larger than two hundred people¡ªif they could be called that. Their pale skin barely visible through layers of grime and rust; their waist-length hair disheveled, unkempt; their clothes simply rags pieces together by flimsy yarn. Nonetheless, a tenacious light lingers on in their eyes. An middle-aged man stood at their helm, atop a platform meant for awards and ceremonies now dilapidated to the point of collapsing under the weight of more than one man. His hair had become white over the years despite his relatively early years, but he remained dignified as he stood straight; at least in this group of outcasts, he seemed to radiate order. "We have held our ground for too long. The surface has forgotten us, the explorers have abandoned us, and humanity has forsaken our roots," he began. His voice filled with indignation at the fate of his kind. "We are not the beggars and refuse that they claim us to be! We are proud descendants of the Progenitors! The first evolvers! We shall not yet return to dust, nor to ashes, we shall rise again from the fires of war, from the discord rampant in the galaxy¡­" he paraded on with a flourish; every sentence, every word, resonating with emotion, rousing the crowd, awakening a spirit long dead in the hearts of the people. "They have neglected our existence; they forget the influence of our people. We are scattered, yes, but precisely because we are that we enjoy our sovereignty," the man went on. "We know of the wars they have waged, the losses they accrued in their ludicrous insurgencies and mutinies. We know the depths of their follies, and the dearth of humanity''s accolades." "It''s time we remind them who truly leads humanity. We are the final stronghold; WE. ARE. ARX!" he bellowed in pride and anger, his voice reaching beyond the rubble, beyond the depths of the earth. At the same time, in various regions of the galaxy, similar events transpired. In the capitals of different federations, the cities of empires, the far reaches of leftover nebulae and asteroid belts, a long hidden force awakened. ? ? ? On stronghold isolated from the pushed back frontlines, survivors remain steadfast in preserving the fortress'' capacity to endure the unceasing waves of attacks. They still had an active supply line through well-hidden folds in space. However, they knew it wasn''t long before the disturbance in the space-time continuum is detected by hostile forces. They had requested for reinforcement, but they heard nothing in response. Over and over, they relayed desperate pleas for help. When they heard the pingback from home base, they were exulted, only to crash hard in despair.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Hands full. Hold your ground until further notice. It wasn''t even a proper paragraph; the first sentence hardly held any thought. Headquarters was blatantly advising them to sacrifice themselves for the cause. No reinforcement, no supplies. What they were getting right now was merely from the excess storage of collapsed citadels, scavenging the remnants of past battles, rummaging for whatever scraps could be useful for their survival. "They''re treating us like wastes! Like pebbles on the side of the road! If it wasn''t for us, humanity would have long gone extinct with all the shenanigans we''ve been pulling on higher civilizations," a soldier complained. He used to man the ballista on the ramparts, but now he was reduced to scouring the scorched plains like raccoons in a dumpsite. "Nothing we can do about it. Higher ups would rather focus the army fighting against fellow humans in a bid for superiority," another soldier hailed back, "of course, at the expense of putting their lives at stake by opening the goddamn borders to aliens." A bitter smile on his face, their scout dejectedly murmured, "They didn''t even send supplies to help hold them back." They were sent to a nearby rock giant. It was previously lush like the rainforests of antiquity, but after years of human excavation, the previous luster of the planet simmered down into deserts of rust and valleys of blight. There were remnant of civilizations, mostly from mining colonies and logging industries, but the resources were long gone; they were either transported back to some home planet or burned in the war. What remained to be salvaged should be found in bunkers spread throughout the planet; only, they weren''t so easy to locate. One of them groaned. "We''ve been here for days! Our rations are running out, and if we don''t find a bunker in the next two days, they won''t let us back in the stronghold. No point in feeding extra mouths that can''t contribute to the cause." "Don''t complain, and just search," the scout derided. He was also leading this expedition and was well aware of the consequences of failure: an unending bout of hunger, persisting on their own without the protection of the stronghold. It would be no better than dying in the gutters of the city. ? ? ? The capital of the Galactic Oren Empire. An orphanage and refugee center in the outskirts. "How many plates have you broken already! You''re costing me more than you''re worth," an old withered old man rebuked a young girl, his spit dousing the dismal face in front of him. "Maybe this kind of work not suitable for our little princess?" sneered the old mistress. She cupped the chin of the girl, "We still have an open slot in brothels." The girls winced, paled at the thought of serving the licentious old men, and the profligate vagrant heirs of noble families. She kneeled over the broken pieces on the floor, begging the old woman, "Please mistress, no. Have mercy, have mercy." "Then maybe you should have done your job better!" the old man relished in the misery of the child. He whipped her back, and groped her undeveloped chests. "You''d do well in the brothels. I''ll visit you soon too," he continued, cackling in schadenfreude and lechery. It was fortunate the mistress stopped him before he went any further. Of course that was in comparison to what tragedy could have followed. The old woman slapped the wanton adulterine old man, and glared at the young girl as if it was her fault. "Take her," she commanded the slaves behind her. Their towering figures grabbed at the girl, and dragged her sobbing lamentable frame across the cold floor, even as she thrashed and flailed in desperation. Grieved, the old man scowled at the woman. This scenario had transpired too many times in the past that it was already a well-scripted play between the two. At the beginning, they hesitated, tried to fight the influence of the nobles, the officials. Alas, such resistance against true might was futile. They had to resort to opening brothels, selling the refugees that trusted their false reputation. It ate away at their consciousness until they became indifferent to the plight of those young girls. Some of them were just children, not even near their coming of age; some were former nobles, too. In the end, the war did none of them good. Even the fragmentary light of pity in the old woman''s eyes were no more than lies she insisted on telling herself. ? ? ? In a castle of a space station orbiting a red star. At the balcony of the main hall, overlooking the citadel that stood at the top the human race. The prince was listening to the report of the minister of war. He disclosed the casualties among the different factions, the estimate of the deserters, the losses in the frontlines, the imminent alien forces intent on invading human territory. Truth be told, the prince was already well aware of the consequences and results of the incessant infighting. He had heard the audit of the minister of finance as well; the discrepancy between the losses and the gains were appalling. It wasn''t that the factions lost too much, rather they were gaining even more than they lost. Ordinary men wouldn''t recognize the intricacies in between the lines, but as a prince, he was cognizant of the different affairs in the galaxy. The betrayal present in the war wasn''t as simple as rekindling ancient relationships. The treachery wasn''t even within the bounds of common preconception. Certain evolutions better than others? What a joke. All the upper echelons of galactic nations know it''s all trivial when confronted with the truly terrifying forces of the universe. This war was more than just that. This wasn''t a war of humans; this was a war of aliens playing their gambles, advancing their pawns, and throwing their die. Each of the participating factions had already fallen under the wings of a higher species. It was no wonder they would forsake fellow men in pursuit of their aspirations. They are no more than marionettes at the hands of alien puppeteers, treating the deaths and tragedies of their countrymen as chump change. It infuriated the prince to no end. His family had been among the top echelons of humanity, in control of multitudes of conglomerates, with a command of millions of soldiers. They had evolvers in their primes, and elders capable of turning the tides of any battle. It wasn''t impossible to keep the aliens at bay for centuries to follow. But they all ruined it! He banged his fist on the ledge, surprising the minister who still hasn''t finished his report. Their small gains in exchange for their dignity and pride. Fools! "Y-your highness?" the minister implored in fear of having been mistaken in his information. Realizing his outburst was uncalled for, the prince felt embarrassed. "It''s nothing," he said as he returned his gaze into the horizon, "continue your report." The helplessness of ruler was not a subject to discuss with those who are ruled. ? ? ? And thus was the fall of humanity... at least for those unfortunate to live through it. Those who had suffered... well, they belong to a different stage. This is their story. Chapter 1.1: A Hundred Points Luther felt as if his head was bursting at the seams, like being crushed under the weight of two worlds. He couldn''t remember what led to his suffering. His last memory was of the grim war against six-armed aliens invading his home star system. He hadn''t even known that the frontlines had collapsed. Before the forced draft, he was complaining the lack of action in his village. He had been yearning for a chance to go the cities, to enjoy the good life, and escape from the humdrum of rural life. As he thought back to those days, he wanted to hit his na?ve self. Those peaceful days were all he wanted now. While he did get his chance at the city, it was only to be interrupted as the defense systems blared in alarm of incoming invasion. Word had spread of the human war, and he assumed the invasion was by another faction. Should that be the case, there was not much to worry. The system''s army was more than efficient to hold them back without much trouble. He couldn''t guess that the army he was so proud of got decimated in a fortnight. All their technological advancements, all their abilities, were like toys in the eyes of their alien invaders. The armaments that cleaved entire planets could barely scratch the warship forged from neutron stars. The drastic damage forced the government to declare martial law and to call for voluntary drafts. Their lack of urgency stemmed from their trust in the evolvers. In a space battle, very few evolvers actually had the ability to change the course of war. Thus, most of them spend their days in leisure on their home planets, fighting local battles, and imposing their influence on regular people. But in times like these, they would have to step up to protect their homes. Perhaps it was that negligent attitude that made Luther restless. Previously, they also had faith in their army, but the results were simply tragic. He feared the planetary would end up the same. Really, it was heartrending for negative sentiments to come out true. The war had lasted for two years and their defenses fell one after another. Voluntary drafts gradually turned into forced drafts. Age restrictions began to be lifted; children fighting on the streets, children haunting guerilla units in the forests, children scaling mountains in ambush. The reasoning the higher-ups gave was that inhumane methods for inhuman enemies. It was utter hogwash. To be inhuman to face inhuman, to throw away your identity for the sole purpose of fighting fire with fire, what was the point? Everyone was fighting for human supremacy, but in the face of crisis, there was no hesitation to throw away that humanity they were priding on.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Luther was twenty-one at the time. He didn''t volunteer when it was called for, only being forced into the army when circumstances changed for the worse. He had a subtle evolution hence his treatment was not much better than ordinary soldiers albeit still befitting his status as evolver. He had heightened fight-or-flight instincts. As a group, it doesn''t contribute much; but as an individual skill, it was highly envied as it greatly increased survival. As such, he was designated as a scout. He hadn''t realized then, regardless of how prematurely you identify danger, without the appropriate skills to react, such an ability is useless. When the war finally reached his city, he was dispatched to scout the movements of the enemy. Even as he stepped out of the barracks, he already sensed the danger looming indiscriminately. Alas, before he can do anything about it, the horns blared. It was preposterous that the superior aliens would blitz through them. Even as the gates were torn off its hinges, as their thunder-like bellows echoed through the pale-faced crowd, they refused to admit the reality before them. He had tried to escape, but compared to the aliens, he was no faster than a snail. He did not even have the time to ask for mercy, as it ripped him in two halves. That''s right. I got ripped in halves. Then how am I still alive? How am I feeling all this pain like battalion of them are clamping on my head? He was starting to reason, desperate to grab hold of reality. As he did so, he realized the pain diminishing. He tried more and more until the pain has receded. At last he could breathe in relief. Slowly, he opened his eyes. A white room welcomed him. All around him was disconcertingly white. Except the wall directly before him. It was glass, like one you''d encounter in museums or zoos, like he was an exhibit. And beyond the glass, was a spherical hangar filled with tessellated cells, each with someone else in them. Every cell was facing a platform in the center--no, rather, the being sitting on a throne on the platform. Unlike the rest of the hangar, it was as black as the endless void of space. It wasn''t the same black humans see; that was light not being reflected back. No, this being was emitting a darkness that is rejecting the light, a separate entity, like oil is to water. It resembled a human, yet simultaneously, everything else. It seemed to be beyond the grasp of Luther''s rationality. Yet, even then, its figure remains embedded unto Luther''s consciousness: two horns, six pairs of wings, two fair hands, a serpent''s tail continuing down its waist in place of legs, five eyes (two pairs, and another at the middle of its forehead), sharp pointed ears, and no nose nor mouth. It was asleep, its tail wrapped around the throne. But somehow, Luther could tell it was well aware of the inside of each and every cell in the hangar. It was observing them, waiting. For what? For every cell to be occupied. Even now, Luther could see some sparse cells, vacant one moment and the next, someone materializes out of the nowhere, seamlessly blending into his memories as if he had always been there. When he first woke up, there were still a few left unaccounted for, but soon, Luther could easily count the cells left over. 32¡­ 21¡­ 15¡­ 8¡­ 4, 3¡­ 1¡­ 0. When the last cell was filled, the being opened its eyes. Chapter 1.2: A Hundred Points "Welcome," the being begun. Its words directly resonated in Luther''s head; its voice was a cacophony of seven voices. "Truly, I had not expected a day this old catacombs of mine would ever be satiated. You all must have suffered; being in such a war must have taken quite a toll." Eh? Luther puzzled, how does it know I died from the war? Does that mean the rest of them too died from the war? He was not the only one in disbelief. The others in the cells also pondered quizzically on the meaning of the being''s words. Yet, none of them noticed their lack of tension towards the indistinguishable being. It laughed in its seven voices. "Your curiosity amuses me. You have died, possibly in the several gruesome ways, yet your concern is the extent and accuracy of my knowledge. Feeble minds." Even then, none of them reacted to the jeers of the being. They had not even registered its terminology, catacombs it had said. Alas, their focus beguiled their reason. "Regardless of how I know," the being continued, "you had still died. It''s time for your next life." Again, their reaction were too mild. Indeed, this time they made a clamor, yet their concerns remain trivial. Religions and such, in the face of their reality, those were inconsequential. The being muttered in silence, considering some factors that may have been overlooked in its abeyance. It raised its head and gazed into each of the cells and their residents. As if sighing, he waved his hand in resignation. Following which, a strange light engulfed the crowd. Enshrouded by the light, their minds begun to patch themselves up, their previous negligence fading like distant memories. Instantly, sharp glints of vigilance returned to their eyes. They were soldiers after all. Seemingly disappointed, the being resumed: "To think your deaths would leave you muddled, I worry for your incarnations. It''s a pity I can''t change the rules." What rules? More than that, where am I? Who--what--are you? Luther began to retort. Now that he was no longer addled, he had more concerns for his well-being. After all, he is still the country bumpkin that unfortunately got dragged into war. More than that, even without his ability, warning bells would be ringing in his head. The being in front of him was too much of an enigma to feel safe. It exudes a presence so powerful even if the entire human race amount to no more than ants. "I suppose introduction are necessary," the being laughed again in pretense. Luther assumed he was not the only one feeling paranoia in front of something that can essentially be a god. "I am the guardian of Pezo. Right now, you are all candidates for its revival." Luther had wanted to ask back but a mysterious bound him to silence--no, rather his instincts could not bring himself to interrupt. "You see, Pezo is in somewhat of a dilemma. They''ve lost their war generals, their kings, their leaders, their heroes. They were in a similar debacle as you all have. Alas, such tragedies had not taught them anything. "You''re all here to amend that. Whether you lead one faction to the top, extinguish your enemies, declare peace between nations, or change their perspectives, that''s up to you. I figure since you have been through a similar catastrophe, you would have learned your lesson." The words of the being still didn''t make sense. How were they to lead anyone to salvation without power? Not to mention, the circumstance of Pezo remained vague and dubious. They couldn''t save their own planets, much less another on the brink of destruction. "Of course, regardless of your success or failure, it doesn''t matter. This just serves to fuel my amusement. There''s no fun in erasing everything, and starting over," the being added, even as they try to piece its words together. An overwhelming, overhanging sense of derealization descended upon them. The vulnerability in front of that being crippled any impression of resistance to its whims. "Let''s begin, shall we?" At that instant, an interface materialized on the glass wall.
Name:
Race:
Age:The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
Title:
Affiliation:
HP 100/100
MP 100/100
STR 10
CON 10
AGI 10
DEX 10
INT 10
WIS 10
Traits
Skills
Spirit
Huh? What is this? Luther puzzled at the window. He wasn''t clear on the meaning behind the words displayed to him. He was, after all, someone from the country side. Even when civilization had advanced to such a degree, differences in circumstances and preferences still separate individuals from a common knowledge base. As he continued wondering what to do, a small figure appeared at the side of the glass wall. It looked like a tiny human, with two wasp-like wings. Its face didn''t have any features whatsoever; no eyes, nose, or ears. Aside from its overall shape, there was hardly any similarities with Luther. "Welcome," it had said, "I''ll be your guide and help. If you have any clarifications, please feel free to ask. Shall we begin?" Luther had no intention of answering without getting his bearings right. He looked around the hangar, at the different cells. Some looked ecstatic at the interface in front of them, some looked as confused as he is, still some looked indifferent to what''s happening, even a few rolling their eyes at the tiny figures. Seeing that there shouldn''t be anything wrong, he inquired, "Well, first I think, what are you?" The figure pondered its answer for a bit, then answered, "For all intents and purposes, please refer to me as Ahke, a Faes under the great Guardian. I, along with my brothers and sisters, serve as moderators of the system." "Faes? Moderators? System?" Luther continued his inquiries. He felt he was lagging behind some of the others in hangar, as he truly had no idea what was happening. Furthermore, unlike the rest of the hangar, he wanted to secure himself first before jumping into the unknown, something he developed over years of heightened instincts. "Faes are born from the Guardian''s will. To some degree, we are an extension of His being. As such, towards the system of power he established, we are sent to manage and answer questions, as well guide each individual to make His game enjoyable," the Fae replied indifferently and accordingly. His? That monster is a he? And what did it say, a game? This is all just a game to that monster? Luther felt sullen and resentful. He grit his teeth and nodding to the Fae to continue its words. As if ignoring the hostility in Luther''s eyes, the Fae continued its duty. "Let''s begin, then? First, tell me your name." "My name? It''s Luther--" he stopped. He remembered how he ran away from home, and how he was already dead. He no longer has family. A glimmer of a tear shimmered in his eyes. "It''s Luther. My name''s just Luther." You have obtained the title, "He Who Has Left His Family." Huh? Luther stared foolishly at the words that popped up on the glass. "You got a title? I didn''t think you''d get one just by giving your name. Oh well," the Fae quipped, almost unknowingly mocking Luther''s sentiments. "Let me update your status screen."
Name: Luther
Race:
Age:
Title: He Who Has Left His Family
Affiliation:
The status screen, as the Fae had called it, flickered for a while, and showed its updated values. "How do I put this damn thing away?" Luther asked through his teeth. He didn''t want to see his reality any more than he needed to. "We''re not done with it yet!" The Fae responded, again ignoring Luther''s shaky emotions. "We have to figure out your race and age first." "Hurry with it then." Luther wanted this over as soon as he can. At this point, he forgot to pay attention to the rest of the hangar.
Human 5 pts.
Elf 15 pts. Half-Elf 10 pts.
Dwarf 15 pts. Half-Dwarf 10 pts.
Giant 15 pts. Half-Giant 10 pts.
Angel 25 pts.
Fake Demon 20 pts. Half-Demon 15 pts.
True Demon 40 pts.
Dragon 75 pts. Draconian 50 pts.
Phoenix 75 pts. Phoenician 50 pts.
¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­
"Here are your choices." By now, Luther should have been used to it, but he was still dumbfounded at the words that faced him. "What are these? Are you telling me I can be a Dragon? And what do these points mean?" Luther confoundedly questioned the Fae. "Huh? Oh right, I haven''t given you your points yet." The Fae knocked itself on the head before saying, "Here. You have a hundred points. Spend them carefully, okay?" Chapter 1.3: A Hundred Points "A hundred points? But then, that means choosing Dragon as a race would leave me with just a quarter of it left¡­ right?" Luther confirmed with the Fae. It nodded in satisfaction that he understood. "What happens when I run out of points?" "You begin your journey," the Fae said vaguely. Huh. Yeah. Sure. My journey would begin, whatever that may be. "Does that mean that until I finish my points, I can''t begin my ''journey?''" Luther asked mockingly. "No," as always ignoring the subtleties in Luther''s speech, "you can always opt to begin it prematurely." Prematurely, huh, Luther said to himself, making a mental note. At last, he felt his mind clearing back to his usual self. His disgust for the Guardian''s treatment of them, still peering over at the back of his mind. "Then, what else do I use them for, if not these races?" Luther began asking further. He needed to plan his way forward, lest he be led by others like his previous life. He still doesn''t know if his prior evolved genes would transcend with him. "Let''s leave that be for now. First, you should choose a race to be born into," the Fae systematically ignored him, and replied as a moderator should. Luther was speechless at how stubborn the Fae was--rather, not as much stubborn as much as it can''t defy its nature. He felt that the Fae has some semblance of a personality; he treated it as another human being. Hence, he thought it could allow some allowances with the rules. Alas, it held steadfast with its programming. Helpless, he glanced at the rest of the hangar for clues, only to be left wide-eyed at the events in the other cells. In one of them, he saw someone transfigured into a Beastkin--no, Half-Beastkin. His spine lengthened; bronze-colored fur sprouted on his forearms; his body build grew in proportion; a tail grew at the end of his spine; and a beastly aura emanated from his being. From afar, he looked as if possessed by a tiger stalking the savannah. Even then, Luther glimpsed at the struggle present in his eyes, the agony of his flesh being stretched to its limits, the fear of losing control of what he had called his body. In contrast, another cell held someone whose ears have lengthened, eyes sharper, and slightly taller than normal. An elf. Luther didn''t understand how he could tell instinctively, but he knew. At the same time, while he hadn''t seen the transformation that took place, he could tell the differences in their experience. He could see the look of derision in the elf''s eyes towards the Tiger Beastkin. Unlike his instinct telling him what kind of race the elf was, the derision in the elf''s eyes seemed more personal. It felt like it was ever present even before the transformation. He could guess the elf''s previous background simply from that proud look: one of the nobles who led the human race to implode on itself. The anger in Luther''s heart bore deeper; at first, that Guardian that looked down on them as simple toys, now, he remembered his enmity towards the upper echelons of humanity that ruined everything. He engraved his grudge, as well as the face of that elf, into his mind. He swore to himself, never again. "I don''t have all day, Luther," the Fae reminded him. Of course, it was only jesting; the Faes had no concept of time in the catacombs. "Human." Without hesitation, Luther replied. Once he found back his purpose, he couldn''t let anything else hold him back. Thus, he chose what he was most comfortable with, the choice that disdains the decision of that noble. They had fought for the prominence among the humanity, yet the noble had chosen to leave humanity. Luther harrumphed at their difference. Status updated.
Name: Luther
Race: Human
Age:
Title: He Who Has Left His Family
Affiliation:
"Is age next? How does that work?" Luther had wanted to hurry the process, but he was baffled by the next item in his status. "We''ll skip that one until the end." The Fae beamed a smile. "For now, I''ll show you the catalog of things you can spend the rest of your points for." Again, skipping on important details. Does it mean to let me decide freely on my points? Or is a consequence waiting for me should I use it all up? Luther began to doubt the Fae. He remembered how the Fae were a manifestation of the system, and by extension, the Guardian. What game is he playing at? As he sunk into his thoughts, the catalog popped up on the screen before him. It was mostly white boxes with short descriptions, except for a few greyed out boxes with description that were no longer legible. Even as he pondered his situation, a few more boxes were greyed out. "You should hurry up. The others are buying out your options," the Fae reminded him, contrastingly amicable. Its tone sounded provocative to the ears of Luther. He looked around the hangar once again. He noticed a number of cells were already empty, while some had inhabitants slightly panicky at the screens in front of them. There were only a handful of people like him who had the leisure of spacing out. He reverted his gaze back at the catalog. By now, he caught on to the decreasing number at the lower right of each box; upon reaching zero, it greys out. He scowled at the Fae.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. "I warned you might run out of options." The Fae kept the obnoxious grin on its face. Luther groaned. Along with the options still available to him were elemental compatibilities. It ranged from the Fire element, Earth, Metal, Water, Wood, Wind, and Lighting; each of which cost 5 points for [Minimal] compatibility, 7 points for [Bad], 10 for [Average], 20 for [Good], followed by [Talented], [Genius], [Master], and [Divine] for 30, 50, 60, and 80 points respectively. Beyond that were the elements Dark, Light, Space, and Time; the four cost 10% more than the previous seven elements for each compatibility level. There was one more element called ''Chaos(Normal)'' which cost three times as much as the first seven, meaning only a compatibility level of Talented was allowed for them. Luther didn''t know what the ''Normal'' beside it meant, but he figured it was far beyond their grasp so he didn''t bother. Of those elements, most of the [Good] and [Talented] compatibilities were taken. Few of the higher levels were chosen, probably because they cost too much in consideration of how much they could spend. After elemental compatibility were weapon masteries, with [Beginner], [Intermediate], [Advanced], [Elite], and [Master] levels for 5, 10, 20, 30, and 40 points respectively. This was also divided to different categories, such as Dagger Mastery, Sword Mastery, Axe Mastery, etc. Following that were sensory enhancements, increased comprehension, and transformation abilities. Even as more and more boxes get greyed out, Luther can only feel helpless. He didn''t want to be rash with his points, and wanted to choose the ones most suited for him. "Is there a way to filter these out?" He asked the Fae. Truthfully, he wasn''t expecting much from the moderator, given its previous lack of cooperation. Surprisingly, the Fae grinned further. "I was hoping you would never ask," it said. The Fae waved its hand, and another window appeared on top of the catalog. On it displayed a list of categories and filters that can be used to flip through the catalog. Luther was again surprised, no longer counting how many he had been shocked since he woke up and more likely, even more after this. "You''re one of the few who would actually think things through, unlike those overenthusiastic fools who just grabbed whatever sounded powerful." The Fae''s tone felt utter revulsion towards those who had left early. It felt that they had let go of such a rare and powerful opportunity. Luther agreed. They were on unknown waters, and to barge through is simply suicidal. Did they think transcending would give them enough benefits to survive every ordeal? He severely doubted such. "Can you narrow down the options even more?" He attempted further, trying to make use of the Fae''s annoyance to get a better leverage. He wasn''t really hoping for anything, however. The Fae looked surprised for once, then its previous scowl returned to that unnerving grin. "You know what, I think the Guardian would love that." Then, it slowly faded into the background. Luther could feel that it hadn''t truly left, but rather simply taking a step back for something else. He shuddered, as he noticed the dreadful Guardian in the center was looking at him. No, rather than looking at him, it seemed as if its total attention was sent over his way; no indication whatsoever was seen on its enigmatic figure. Even then, he felt that similarly, the Guardian was grinning at him. The screen in front of him changed. The status screen remained translucent in the background, but the suspended window had changed. Please choose a major path: Warrior, Thief, Ranger, Mage, Shaman If previously, he had the freedom to choose his path and bridge together the abilities available to him, the now he felt that he only had to choose, and the screen will show him an appropriate path. "What does each path entail?" he asked. Alas, no answer. His spectators chose to remain silent, as if mocking him; he had already gotten a lot of help just by displaying to him the possible paths, yet he asks for more. He grimaced in frustration. He glanced at the other cells; roughly half of the original number remained. They didn''t look as confused and indignant as he was. In front of them was the same catalog screen he had before, some with the default catalog, while others had the filtered one. He focused back on his screen. Warrior seemed like a melee class. It meant rushing into battles, fighting with swords, spears, axes, and such. It meant fighting on the frontlines with his life on the line. Of the five choices, it was probably the least suitable for Luther. The anxiety his previous life had brought him was too much. He wouldn''t seek danger without a proper reason. Thief or Ranger sounded more reasonable for his tastes. Increasing his survival skills would better his chances of whatever the Guardian was planning; whether Luther decides to actually fight or do everything he can to delay and circumvent the chaos to come. Mage, on the other hand, is also inappropriate for Luther''s plans. They tend to have a weak defense, reliant on the protection of others. If he wanted to live a worry-free life, Mage definitely won''t help him, because whoever it is would just contribute reasons for joining the war. There was still Shaman, though. He didn''t really know what that meant. Shaman were essentially non-existent in his planet, and he didn''t have enough clearance for information from other systems as well. Hence, he didn''t really think much of it. In the end, as he had pretty much already figured out, he was left with Thief or Ranger. A decision to choose between hidden melee, or ranged attacks (at least that''s what he thought the main difference was). "Ranger." Finally having made a decision, he told the suppressed Fae. It maintained its smile, only waving its hand to forward the process. Please choose a specialty: Archery, Scouting, Survival, Combat "Survival." Without hesitation, he chose his specialty. He had already laid out his plans for the future. He needed to survive most of all. Allocating¡­ Please wait¡­ He could almost hear the Fae humming a tune in delight. It baffled him at how much it is enjoying his decisions. It made him doubt if he should have chosen differently. Alas, he thought it was more likely that he couldn''t go back on his choices. Attribute Transfer (STR->AGI)¡­ Attribute Transfer (INT->AGI)¡­ Attribute Transfer (WIS->AGI)¡­ Attribute Increase (CON) x2¡­ Attribute Increase (AGI) x2¡­ Attribute Increase (DEX) x3¡­ Allocating Ranger traits and skills according to specialty¡­ Allocation successful.
Name: Luther
Race: Human
Age:
Title: He Who Left His Family
Affiliation:
HP 100/100
MP 100/100
STR 8 (-2) [-2pts]
CON 12 (+2) [-4pts]
AGI 15 (+6) [-4 pts]
DEX 13 (+3) [-6pts]
INT 9 (-1) [-2pts]
WIS 9 (-1) [-2pts]
Traits Sharp Vision (250m) [-10pts] Enhanced Hearing (100m) [-5 pts]
Skills Bow Mastery (Intermediate) [0/20,000] [-10 pts] Dagger Mastery (Beginner) [0/10,000] [-5 pts] Foraging (Advanced) [0/15,000] [-15 pts] Stealth (Advanced) [0/30,000] [-30 pts]
Spirit
Please confirm your status. KEEP | EDIT Luther was pleasantly surprised at the prompt. He wasn''t surprised the system used up all his points but he didn''t expect the system to allow him to edit the point allocation. In addition, he got more confused at the Spirit option in his status. The system hadn''t filled it up unlike the traits and skills section. When he asked to view the available Spirit options, he was shocked to find it under the Shaman category.