Chương 41: Vixen Among Kits

The previous night the Historian had been staring at a viewing slate showing an empty chamber and a closed bathing room door, and lamenting his decision to take 'Hindsight'. It was a good Skill which allowed him to view glimpses of the past with almost disgusting impunity. Right now though, he wished he had something that would let him view reality as it was in this moment.

Because of course one of the few conditions that would prevent him from skimming someone's past is that their world was not integrated into the System Network before he gained his Skill. Suddenly, a sensation he couldn't rightly describe washed over him like a wave. Aggressive in approach and execution, but entirely harmless on contact.

It was a wave of energy so diffuse and brief that he doubted there was anyone in the tower with enough perception to feel it, and if by some miracle they did, he knew for a fact that he was the only person here with the expertise to recognise it.

"That was not mana," he whispered, pupils blown wide, and fluffy white tail twitching in agitation. This was"If only we could see what was happening," the Historian lamented.

"Master?" Tareth called out. The younger vulpian wondering why he couldn't.

"She is in the suite you gave her." He said, pointing to the slate that was currently displaying an empty bedchamber.

"She is in the bathing chambers of her quarters," the Historian corrected. Tareth didn't see what the issue was. Sure the human might not like it, but this was the Historian. A pillar of his people, and the administrator of the tower for as long as he remained. His authority superseded her comfort, his attention was her privilege. Moreover, if whatever she was doing had his master's attention, then it was information he needed as well. He was also sure their faction would be interested in the little human.

While he couldn't divulge information on her, he could ensure his people were able to capitalise.

"We gave her no expectation of privacy," Tareth said. He froze when the Historian turned his head to face him, taking his eyes off the slate for the first time in hours.

"I am going to give you a lesson this time, because you are my pupil. Also, because this is the first time you've ever disappointed me like this. However, if you open your mouth and say words so foolish again, I can promise you won't be calling me master for long afterwards," the Historian said. The pressure the elder was releasing was suffocating. His legs buckled, and he had to brace himself to remain standing. The Historian paid him no mind as he spoke.

"That young woman is Level 7." the Historian began.

"Yes, master you already-""Level 7 less than a month into Integration."

"So, she is a rare genius. It's not unheard of." Tareth said, genuinely confused. Didn't all sapients on newly integrated worlds have increased growth potential? When new worlds opened, most factions weren't rushing to claim material resources nearly as aggressively as they were for talent. The Historian's eye twitched at his disciple's ignorance. He had to remind himself that this was not. In fact, common knowledge. It barely even counted as obscure knowledge, that's how niche it was.

It was no wonder he couldn't grasp the implications. The potential opportunity.

"Level 7, less than a month into full integration, and the average System-sanctioned grace period is eight years. That rate of progression," the Historian shook his head.

"Then consider that the first portal world she found and entered is connected to a nexus." He gestured around himself at the tower, though the emphasis was entirely unnecessary. Tareth looked back to the display.

"I understand, Master. So she is more than just a rare genius, she's a vixen among kits" Tareth said.

"But Master, in the grand scheme, eight years of accelerated growth won't be enough.

"You have already prevented me from reporting to the faction, then you made me sign that contract, and now you are suggesting we invest true faction resources into this, this, interloper?" He shook his head. Once Scarlet's world was up for the pickings, there was no way the human woman would stay independent. She would be claimed, or killed, and the vulpians would lose out on their investment. It wasn't like she'd be able to unify the planet and claim its core.

Such a feat had been done only thrice in known History, and only once with no assistance by an external faction. The history of the world known as Complicity, and its ruler, the Sovereign of Compliance, was something the Historian, had been fascinated with for going on centuries now. What exactly did this have to do with Scarlet? This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"Wait, Master, are you suggesting…" The Historian shushed him. On the screen the door opened, and for the next hour, the two of them watched a newly integrated Tier 0 human stare at rocks. Both lost in their own thoughts. That's when the human decided to look at the door. It was the stone door to her chamber that had read her mana signature. Three seconds later the woman was on the floor, passed out with a nosebleed. The Historian's eyes opened wide.

For a moment he'd felt the shift, the moment she'd surpassed some threshold. Psionic affinity. No, psionic attunement. He cackled, positive the human woman had no idea what she'd just done.

"Master?" Tareth turned to the older vulpian.

"Attunement, at Tier 0," the Historian said, delighted. Tareth was less sure.

"Master, that's not possible," Tareth said. Not for beings born at Tier 0 anyway. The soul simply wasn't yet robust enough to hold onto any sort of conceptual attunement. The strain on her soul would be astronomical. And yet, the Historian would not lie about something like that.

"By the System," Tareth muttered.

"This changes things," the Historian said. As if by mutual agreement, both vulpian's turned back to the tablet, where a groggy Scarlet had roused and managed to get herself to bed. The Historian made a clicking sound and frowned.

"I just healed her," he grumbled, entirely unaware that it was that precise action that had allowed for this moment. However, it did highlight just how far behind her mind Scarlet's body was. It was a dangerous imbalance. One they'd need to address before they went further. It wouldn't be pleasant, but it was necessary. It would also be the perfect time to collect some additional FS without boosting her level.

She wouldn't enjoy the process, however, it was something she would need if they were going for full saturation. They were treading into novel territory here. The Historian was going to be a part of something no one had ever done before. Completely new history. He could feel his own concepts straining at the embodiment bottleneck. He just knew training Scarlet would give him the push he needed. He could practically feel the levels raining down already. The Historian turned to his disciple.

"Prepare well. Tomorrow, we go to The Pools." <-... -> The next morning saw Scarlet lacing up her trainers when a chiming sound came from the door. Before she answered it, she checked her face in the mirror. The small lump on the side of her head was gone. She had some theories as to how it'd healed so fast, but they would answer themselves in time. Deeming herself presentable, she crossed the room, cane in hand. Opening the door she found Tareth on the other side.

Scarlet took a moment to flex her psionics as she observed him. He was once more in martial robes. He looked like he had not slept much. Even without any of the typical markers Scarlet might recognise in a human, his energy was tinged with exhaustion. As they observed each other, Scarlet sensed something ripple through his aura. Well, that was new. Or was it? Now that she was no longer actively suppressing her emotions, it took a genuine effort of will not to react to what she'd just felt in his aura.

On the bright side, Scarlet was finding all sorts of practical applications for her years of emotional repression. Who would have thought trauma responses were such transferable skills? She decided to try and flex her psionics by probing his emotions. She'd noticed the night before that the vulpian was unaware when she was actively using it around him. She had a feeling that unless she tried to affect him directly that would remain largely true.

Her first foray into 'reading' a live person was clumsy at best, she knew. However, lack of finesse was not lack of success. Scarlet was gleaming a lot, and with neither incentive nor inclination urging her to make the first move, she was content to stand there and read the energy. The increasingly irate vulpian was playing the silent game with himself and still lost.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No," Scarlet said. Then more silence.

"You are being strange this morning." He grumbled.

"How would you know?" Scarlet asked.

"We are not well acquainted." At those words, a ripple went through his aura. It was so faint, that if scarlet hadn't been elbow deep in the information layer, she would have missed it entirely. Despite what she could feel, his expressions, and demeanour didn't change. Instead, he seemed to entirely bypass the interaction.

"There has been a change of plans. We're going to meet the Historian right away.

"What changed?" Scarlet asked, finally stepping out of the room.

"The Historian can answer your questions," he said as they began to walk. They made the rest of the short journey in silence. As soon as the Historian saw Scarlet, he grinned. His hypothesis had been confirmed. She had truly crossed the boundary from affinity into attunement. At Tier 0. Opening his mouth, he let out a small vulpine gekker before getting himself back under control. A psionic attunement should have been impossible.

Combined with their push for full stat saturation, it became something else entirely: a convergence of impossibilities born from a world whose history had yet to be shaped by the System. The Historian looked at the young woman and felt his own concepts strain against the embodiment bottleneck. The girl would either claim her world or end it. Either way, he intended to be there when history was made.