Chương 6: 5 The White Void

The sound of my boots against tile filled the chamber. All eyes followed me, everyone still as anchors on the sea floor. I swallowed as I approached the Ourabora node and wiped my palms on my trousers. Granduncle smiled reassuringly, the hollows in his gaunt cheeks deepening. I couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes.

"Go on," he prompted.

"And good luck." I hesitated. This was it: the turning point in my life, the moment I synced with Ourabora and channeled her power. My attention shifted back to the audience, this time not to my family but to another face. He stood in the row with the other Aunts and Uncles in attendance—Lance Coralfin. With cool red skin, webbed ears, and a shaggy blend of rust-and-violet hair, my mentor nodded to me once. I forced my shoulders to loosen and took a final breath. Head high, I placed my hand on the node.

I blinked in surprise as the world vanished around me, replaced by a white void.

"Welcome, Antonio Marco Moretti," a monotone female voice said. I jumped, cursing as I spun. It wasn't the first time I'd heard her voice or communed with her. Any citizen of Paradise could link to Ourabora in a sanctum, but she'd never moved me before.

"Where am I?" I asked, fighting the panic in my voice." Fear not," she said." You are still in Sanctum, standing with your friends. I have quickened your mind and brought it to a place where I can examine you." Remembering myself, I dropped to a knee, bowing my head.

"Forgive my irreverence," I said hurriedly, heartbeat echoing in my skull." So polite," she said, the hint of something like amusement breaking her flat cadence. My head dipped lower.

"What would you have me do?" She purred, dipping from her monotone rhythm." Now, I decide if I allow you to join the system."

"If?" I said, my mouth suddenly dry.

"What do you mean? I graduated."" Yes, you passed Granduncle's requirements, but that only gets you here. I am your final judge, and your last test." Oh… well, great. So there was a chance I walked away from graduation as the only one without a class after all. The rashes on my arms suddenly began to itch—the marks of my shame." You're wondering why I conduct separate due diligence on our system warriors—"It was a statement." Allow me to show you." The white void spun, and I stumbled, assaulted by sudden vertigo.

Colors flashed in the void, spinning and coalescing into the sanctum chamber. I blinked, glancing around. I stood at a graduation ceremony—only it wasn't mine. A new class waited, performing the same rite I was in the middle of. No one acknowledged my arrival. I scanned the faces, stopping on one that was familiar. Red skin with speckled purple patterns across his temples—Uncle Lance Coralfin. My teacher. No, not Uncle—graduate.

The Aqua-Primord's face was soft with youth, his eyes nervous as his gaze flickered to the ever-ancient Granduncle.

"That's Lance!" I exclaimed." Indeed. On his graduation," Ourabora confirmed.

"So full of potential. Just like you. But I'm not showing you his story." A ginger-bearded Coppersmeldt dwarf stepped forward, wearing his High Family Pinstripes. He hesitated, nervous before placing a hand on the node. The room shifted again, colors spiraling away. I staggered, catching myself on the deck of a ship. A tan-green Orc roared in my face, flashing a mouth of tusks. I cried out as hot, foul air drove me back. Gagging, I grasped for a cutlass that wasn't there.

The Orc sprang forward, axe raised, and I braced for impact. He passed through me as if I were mist. Panting, I spun; pistols and muskets discharged, war cries mingling with screams of pain. Paradise Marines and Orcish pirates clashed on the deck of an Orcish Stormbreaker. Then there they were. Cousin Lance danced ahead, leading the charge with his trident and rapier flashing. The Dwarven Cousin dove behind a deck cannon, blasting the opposition with a massive carbine.

The wave of pirates fell back, reeling from the Paradisian attack. A shadow fell across the deck and the combatants. Everything darkened except for the Dwarf." This is Rutwin," Ourabora said. He flipped a new cartridge into his weapon, peeking over his cover at the enemy." When he synced with me, his heart was pure. He was a brave and fearsome warrior, on track to become an Uncle." I stepped around him, my brow pinching.

"I don't think I know him," I said." No," Ourabora agreed as the scene shifted. I now stood on the decking of a barge. A massive barge. I turned. No—not a single vessel, a metropolis—Raft Town, domain of the trolls. Crooked sheds, tall towers, and wrecked hulls clustered in a chaotic, yet somehow artistic array of construction, all floating as one. A blue-skinned troll perched on a roof, javelin in hand. Then I saw him.

Rutwin spoke in a hushed tone to an Orc before the green-skinned brute dropped a purse into the Dwarf's hand. Rutwin nodded once and left. His beard hung in wild patches where once it had been well-groomed, his sunken eyes had gone bloodshot, and his skin was sun-weathered." Helplessness took root in Rutwin,"Ourabora continued as he cast a suspicious glance over his shoulder." What was the point of fighting a war that never seemed to end? Leveraging his position and power, he began pursuing his own interests.

He took bribes, conspired with the enemy, and turned his back on Paradise."

"Did you unsync from him?" I asked, glancing at the rogue Cousin with unease.

"Take his power?"" I cannot," Ourabora said, voice tinged with remorse." What I once freely gave, I can't take away." The scene shifted again, and I found myself on a volcanic beach. Vapors hissed from vents among black glass shards, and ash drifted like black snow. Rutwin stood before a company of black-and-orange-skinned Vulcans, who parted for a towering figure. A disk of distorted heat wavered over the newcomer's head. The dwarf cracked the lid off a wood crate, exposing freshly manufactured rifles.

"After blatant betrayal, supplying weapons to the Ashlords, Rutwin became an exploit, an unauthorized user of my power. When a cousin falls from grace, they also fall from my sight." The scene faded to white, leaving me blinking in the light.

"Where is he now?" I asked, tugging my sleeve over my forearms." That I do not know," she said, a voice without form." I imagine he still serves the Ashlords, stoking their forges and preparing them for war with Paradise."

"But he still has his class and abilities," I said, trying to keep up." He continues to level up," she agreed,"drawing power from the wellspring intended for the protectors of the World Archipelago." I swallowed.

"I think I know what you're worried about. My father. You're worried—" I cut off, unable to finish it." —and shouldn't I be?

"she asked." Your father is an exploit. He betrayed Paradise—""No, he deceived Paradise," I cut in.

"He never was one of us; he came in disguise with a mission. Me? I was born here. I'm ready to serve, to die for Paradise Rock!" I meant it all." And what if your duty to Paradise Rock is a more humble calling?" she asked.

"Why do you need this power? Tend the fields, stay with your mother and sister. Start a family of your own. There are many noble callings." Warmth crept up my neck, and my fingers curled.

"What?" I growled." There it is," Ourabora said, a hint of resignation touching her words." The part of you that is your father. Confess, you want the power. You want the glory."

"I want atonement!" I hissed through clenched teeth." Is that what you tell yourself?" she asked. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"It's true!" I exclaimed.

"What my father destroyed, I can never fix. Not in the fields, not in a quiet home in Rafael's Cove, not as a fisherman."" Not as a Cousin," Ourabora added.

"Maybe not," I whispered.

"But I can get much closer with your help."

"Hmm," she hummed.

"Perhaps."

"You're right," I said hurriedly, head tilting up as I felt my future slipping away.

"I do need you, but maybe you need me."

"Go on." I glanced down at my hands.

"I'm not the best warrior. I'm not the strongest, but you won't find one who works harder. I love Paradise more than anyone, and I'll prove it whether you help me or not." She went silent for a long moment, and sweat beaded on my brow.

"Can I trust you with a secret?" I blinked at the sudden shift in her tone, as if she were a schoolgirl with a confession and not the seal of the World Archipelago.

"Um, sure," I said, suddenly confused." I don't like being called defective." A silence stretched. At length, I found my voice, "If I said something to offend you—"" Oh, it's not you," she said.

"It's others." Again. I struggled to find words.

"Is… there anything I can do?" I asked, feeling suddenly childish.

"Do you think I can make mistakes?" she asked, ignoring my question.

"Well." My brow furrowed.

"I don't think so."

"I can't," she declared.

"I am Paradise, I am the World Archipelago." I held my breath. Those last words had bite. I didn't love that.

"The next time you hear someone say I made a mistake, I want you to remember that."

"I—will," I said, more confused than ever in that fever dream of a conversation.

"Good," she said.

"Then I think we can move forward. Yes, Antonio Marco Moretti, I accept you as a Cousin." I don't think a drowning man breaking the surface experienced the relief I felt at that moment.

"Thank you!" I gushed, a grin splitting my face.

"I won't let you down!"

"I'm counting on that," she said, voice once again flat.

"Consider yourself my—special, little investment." I exhaled sharply, a laugh of joy slipping free.

"Antonio Marco Moretti, I'm examining what I have to work with, and you have potential. Drive and talent; a little low on the aptitude side. You have worked hard. I can start you at level six." If she hadn't just been threatening not to sync me whatsoever, that would have disappointed me. I had been expecting a seven and hoping for an eight. Accepted as I was, I nodded emphatically.

"Thank you!" <<System Notice: New Feat—Minor System Terminal: you can now access the system HUD>> <<System Notice: Level Up—User Level One>> <<System Notice: New Feat—Minor Inventory: Six Inventory Slots>> <<System Notice: New Feat—Minor System Communion: Spend Mana to Commune with Ourabora. Range: anywhere you can see the sky>>"Whoa!" I exclaimed at the hovering notifications.

"You require at least one level in User. What would you like to do with your remaining levels?"

"Martial," I said without hesitation. I swiped my hand through the illusory terminal.

"All of them."

"Yes," she agreed.

"That would support your build. Stand by for stats." <<System Notice: >> <<Stats: >> Might (STR) — 7 Will (WIS) — 6 Focus (INT) — 6 Resilience (CON) — 8 Grace (DEX) — 8 Cunning (CHA) — 5 My eyes locked onto might, and a flicker of disappointment tugged at me. Seven was good. Five in anything was average, and ten was the highest most sentients could reach naturally. Strong men, geniuses, super athletes—they hit tens without aid from the system or magic. The scale wasn't linear.

A Dragon or a Thunder Giant might hit somewhere closer to eighteen. Ten was insanely impressive for a mortal. To make it to graduation, cadets had to have no stat below a five. I'd hoped to get my strength to eight. That had been unrealistic. Still, seven wasn't bad. My eight in grace didn't surprise me. I'd spent countless hours in structured lessons and free time spent practicing with the blade and sleight-of-hand.

"I see you're proficient in the Needle Rain and Windmill fencing styles. Which do you prefer?"

"Windmill, definitely," I said.

"Cutlass over rapier. I train with curved blades more. They work better under decks where space is limited." <<System Notice: New Feat—Empowered Windmill Form: Activation Cost: 5 Mana>> <<Use Empowered Windmill Form with windmill cutlass techniques to feed your mana into your blade to empower your strikes. Focusing on this feat after activation extends the effect, burning 1 mana per meaningful attack>>"Alright!" I said, eyes on the terminal.

"I can definitely work with that." A mana counter flashed into existence on the terminal, displaying 30. <<System Notice: Class designation—Swashbuckler>> I tried to mask my thrill. Classes were declared, not chosen, and I'd gotten exactly what I trained for.

"You have six feat points to assign from the martial roster. Please see the catalog for feats whose requirements you meet." I didn't need to check it. I'd been studying the list for years, only now, when the choice mattered, I hesitated.

"Take your time as you wish," Ourabora said.

"Just bear in mind that everyone has been waiting for you in the sanctum for twenty minutes." My head jerked up, panic spiking in my blood.

"Wait, are you serious?" She laughed.

"No, twenty seconds have elapsed in real time." Was that a joke? I didn't know she had a sense of humor.

"Okay," I said, refocusing on the choice at hand. The fight at the dock flashed through my mind. Those Deep Ones had been heavy. Orcs were the same way, and Drake-kin—the Bloodwake's shock troopers—were worse. New abilities and flashy moves would be fun, but no matter how much I wanted to dive into those, I had to build my levels on a solid foundation. I gritted my teeth before speaking.

"I'd like to buy a stat point."

"Are you sure?" Ourabora asked.

"A single score increase will cost four feat points."

"I'm sure," I said at last.

"Bump my might." <<System Notice: New Feat—Stat adjustment. New Might—8>> The difference between a trained athlete and a professional could take years in real time to develop. I felt it instantly. I made a fist and flexed. I'd always been lean; I maintained that physique for a reason, but my veins popped much more now. I exhaled, instantly validated. As a warrior, that was the right move.

"You have to have more feat points."

"Minor resist charm," I said right away. I'd seen too many peak warriors get mind-blanked from a low-level charm in training; that wasn't going to be me. Of course, minor-tier feats were practically useless, but I would build on it. <<System Notice: New Feat—Minor Resist Charm. Automatic. Activation Cost: 5 Mana>>"What will you do with your last point?" Ourabora asked. I bit my tongue, considering.

"Can I sit on it?" I asked.

"Choose later?"

"Are you sure that's wise? Points unused could be the difference between life and death."

"I get that," I agreed.

"It's just. I don't have any real experience. I might think I know what I need, but how could I?"

"I understand. Go to a designated sanctuary to spend that point. Or you can utilize your Minor System Communion while under the sky."

"I will," I said, folding my arms. <<System Notice: The following skills have been added to your proficiency list. >> Greater Helmsman Lesser Navigation Sailing Cannoneer My brow rose.

"Are those from you?"

"No. I merely classify what you've already got. I see you took your seacraft lessons seriously."

"I'd hope so," I said.

"Sailing is arguably the most critical skill in the archipelago. Being the best swordsman will do you little good if you run your ship on a reef." <<System Notice: Race—Human>> <<Human Traits>> Ambition Industry Indomitable Will Relief struck me like a breeze from the crow's nest. My hands went to the rough patches on my forearms, then dropped away. Human—that word. I'd perhaps been looking forward to seeing it more than actually getting a class.

It meant I'd won; I hadn't let my blood determine— <<System Notice: Race Deviation—Human Derivative>> <<Deviation Traits: >> Apex Wrath Apex Pride I wilted where I stood. There it was, the ugly truth, plastered across my terminal. Remember when I said my temper was genetic? Yeah, I wasn't kidding.

"Can I get rid of those?" I asked hurriedly.

"Take my feat point, take a level, I don't care, just keep me human standard."

"Well now, this is interesting," Ourabora said.

"I don't think I've ever had anyone offer to sacrifice power to change that which I cannot."

"You said you were never wrong," I said, voice sounding suddenly childish.

"I don't suppose I could ask you to be incorrect this once."

"I'm never wrong," she said flatly. My chest tightened.

"You fear what you are."

"No," I snapped with probably more aggression than one should show to the highest power they knew.

"Will over blood. I am deliberate. I choose who I am."

"Lance Coralfin's teachings," she assumed.

"He has every reason to hate me," I said.

"But after everything. Despite it all, he took me in. Taught me I'm not the product of my blood, but my choices."

"Let's hope so," Ourabora said. <<System Message: High Family Quest: Kill Puppetmaster>> My blood chilled. Puppetmaster, the Cousin killer. A memory long buried surged back to me, and I left the white void. Freezing rain poured down, and I shook in my drenched clothes. Puppetmaster's scaly claw gripped my wrist as he dragged me away from my mother. My sister shrieked as she pounded his side with her fist. I didn't fight; my mind had gone numb.

Lightning cracked, igniting the night, and a figure appeared before him, barring his path. Blood slicked Lance Coralfin's throat, and ragged tears gaped in his soaking shirt. Panting, Lance raised his trident.

"Let the kids go, Puppetmaster." I blinked, coming back to the moment in the omnidirectional light. I found myself rubbing my wrist where he had held me all those years ago. <<System Message: High Family Quest: Recover the cursed artifact Prisoner's Retaliation from Puppetmaster. Return the handle to Granduncle >> A timer flashed next. <<04: 03: 04: 09: 22: 11>>"What's all this?" I asked, watching the number tick downward.

"Remember what I told you when you get out," Ourabora said.

"I don't make mistakes."

"Okay…" I said, now more confused.

"Do you think you can complete this quest? Without hesitation?" I glanced at the name hovering in the quest window. That name, Puppetmaster.

"Without hesitation," I affirmed.

"Puppetmaster owes me a debt. I'll take him down myself."

"Yes," she agreed.

"Yes, you will. Go now, welcome to the corps; Cousin of Paradise Rock." <<System Notice: Time to Seal Collapse: 04: 03: 04: 09: 20: 44>>