Chương 2: Harder, Faster, Stronger

They say the system made us stronger. Against what measurement? Our old lives? Pure Irrelevance. —The Artificer's Guide to the Apocalypse Duke Demarius was softly dozing upon his throne when he was rudely awakened by a resounding boom that echoed across his lavishly furnished throne room. A pair of expertly carved doors were thrown open, revealing the disheveled form of the resident bishop.

"Your Grace!" The speaker rushed into the hall, nearly tripping on the gold hem of a bleached white cassock.

"The worldstone has activated! The Emperor has called upon us!" He stumbled to a stop at the base of the throne, eyes now wide with a renewed vigor–once diminished by years of silence from the outside world.

"And? What did he say? Out with it, man!" Spittle flecked his lips as the duke looked down at the man impatiently.

"Errm, I didn't speak to him, my Lord... That's uh… That's your station?" He nervously adjusted his stole.

"My Lord," he hurriedly added, wiping sweaty palms on his side.

"I suppose I have to do everything around here. Very well. Lead the way." He groaned as he climbed down the shallow steps below his throne. If the bishop noticed the irony of Demarius' comment, his blank expression gave no indication of his thoughts. The pair traveled down the halls, empty aside from the occasional servant that bowed and retreated out of their path. In short order, they came to the heart of the small castle. Behind a small iron door was a round room.

Stone flooring was placed in a circular fashion, converging on a glowing blue well-like structure. A crystalline disc, dark and dormant any other time, now gleamed with light at the center of the well. At the bishop's prompt, Duke Demarius hesitantly reached out, and at his touch the disc flashed brilliantly. He jerked his hand back as the ethereal form of a woman levitated above the disc.

Demarius recognized her as the emperor's mouthpiece, though his dealings with her were few and far between, with his lands being as secluded as they were. A warbling, tinny voice sounded from the figure.

"Lesser Duchy of Brighthaven." The duke frowned, wondering if the emphasis on 'lesser' was his imagination." In two weeks, a new world will be integrated into Ossia. As such, in recognition of your… service, your duchy has been granted governance over a subsection of this population. You are to assist in their integration, in establishing a home. To aid in this endeavor, you will be supplied with a small stipend."

Duke Demarius grinned at the mention of the stipend and turned, tuning out the rest of the woman's speech. He had more important matters at hand than to listen to a puppet of the emperor.

He looked down into the well, deep in thought. The guilds would not like this, no. Not at all. Otherworlders brought ideas. Like a disease, they would spread, sowing discontent and upending the status quo that they had worked so hard to bend in their favor. It wasn't enough that the emperor had exiled him to the furthest reaches of his lands; he had to fit in one more jab, didn't he? What to do? A three-dimensional representation of the surrounding lands filled the basin, his own lands clearly outlined.

He gleefully noted that his holdings had increased tremendously with the addition of this new world. Adventurers would be eating well for years to come, benefitting himself as well. He gestured at the city at its center, and the lands shifted, the city filling the area. That certainly wouldn't work. It was in his best interest for them to be as far away from causing trouble as possible. Then, an idea struck. He cast [Census] and checked an indicator in his view.

It had indeed updated with the impending arrivals and spat out some information on the group, though the details were lacking. Eighty-seven life forms. He selected a small district on the outskirts of the city, within the walls. It consisted of several ramshackle structures, most in desperate need of repair. It would do, for temporary accommodations…

"Excellent idea, my Lord. The outer district would serve the new populace well, with the Emperor's funds—""There will be no Emperor's funds, you dolt! They won't be here long enough to claim them." He frowned as the selected location failed to lock into place for a few of the settlers. He attempted several more times and groaned in exasperation.

"These gods-damned creatures won't—blast it! They can fend for themselves if they wish to be a nuisance!" He cursed and pointed far to the north, highlighting a lone valley at the edge of his lands, an equal nuisance. They would make great company for each other. The bishop could only look on in consternation as the duke continued to manipulate the worldstone.

I found myself suspended in a void, and utterly alone. The darkness was absolute, but it was not the darkness that captured my attention. No, it was the silence. The blessed, pure, unadulterated silence. No tinnitus, no rushing of the heart, not even my breath broke the quiet that now surrounded me in its totality. The novelty held me for several minutes while I just floated there, enjoying the lack of stimulus. I waved my hand in front of my face. As expected, I couldn't see anything. Imagine that.

No light, no hand. How surprising. I felt around. No face, no hands. I couldn't even wrap my arms around and hug myself… There just wasn't anything. I'd have panicked, but alas, I had no body, and without a body, I had no adrenaline with which to assault my nonexistent nervous system. I could only perceive. Another thought tickled its way up from the depths, this one more unsettling. What if I was in one of those comas? From the horror stories about people being locked in their own bodies, unable to move.

It was a consideration, but still, it didn't get to me. I was in a zen state. No, I was Zen. Time passed, or I assumed it did. Whether it was minutes or months, there was no telling. And so, with nothing else to do, I waited. I waited, pondering existence. Where am I? Am I dead? Is this what it's like before we're born? A new notification blinked, seemingly in response to my questions. > You have died. Do you wish to continue? > YES/NO > Please be aware: Your choice will be permanent.

Should you choose YES, you will be reborn in accordance with the rules and regulations of 'The System.' Hah! I'm dead, I knew it! Wait, what!? The options stared back at me, almost mockingly, as if I had any real choice in the matter. I focused on YES, unsure how to actually manipulate the prompt. I didn't dare to even look at the NO option in case I accidentally triggered it. The choice lit up, and once I mentally confirmed the option, it disappeared with the prompt. I waited for a follow-up, but nothing happened.

Casting my perception about, I began to feel in the darkness for any sensation at all, and that's when I saw them. Little motes of energy floated in the void, so small I nearly missed them. They certainly weren't there moments before. They must have come with the prompt. Tiny pulsating specks of multicolored light came in reds, blues, greens, the entire rainbow. The colors danced as they gathered in the center of my field of perception. The motes continued to group until a small pebble formed.

The small sphere pulsed, then shifted. Then it grew. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. It repeated. Again. Faster now. The movements became indistinguishable as the current of motes became a flood. The orb grew to fill my perception. It became my entire world, bringing the purest light to replace the darkness. My heart pounded as I watched the mesmerizing display before me. Thump. Pulse. Thump. Pulse. Thump. Pulse.

My heart thrummed in perfect rhythm with the light for several beats before it dawned on me—I didn't have a heart. But whatever this was, it was connected to me in some way. Is this… my soul? I stretched my perception without thinking, reaching out to the curious object that settled under my core, ever so tenderly. Poke. I regretted it instantly. I recoiled in terror as silent screams ripped through my mind. My entire being, naked and raw, felt the unwanted intrusion. MOTHERF— Okay, brilliant idea!

Obviously, touching the rainbow egg is a bad idea. I shuddered, feeling completely and utterly vulnerable. As though my thoughts willed it to action, the light condensed around me, drawing up close, covering my spiritual nakedness. It was comforting, like a warm fuzzy blanket, which is odd in itself because one shouldn't be able to physically feel light. Even so, I watched the rough shapes around me, hugging tightly before the very edges solidified into tangible matter. > Human core implanted.

Unbroken flesh grew as the light slowly revealed my toes. It moved up my thick, hairy legs before arcing out, materializing my stomach and chest. A heartbeat resumed, physically this time, in tune with my soul-heart. You could leave a few pounds off if you're remaking me... I grumbled at the system, only partly serious. > Do you wish to modify your body? This will not affect your physical stats. YES/NO I considered the option, feeling a bit called out, then selected NO.

If I was really honest, I was content with myself. No reason to improve on perfection… The dazzling display worked its way to my eyes, and the ethereal experience faded, replaced by darkness interrupted only by a batch of new messages. > Manacular reconstruction complete. > Base stats assigned. > New Combat Class slot available. > New Production Class slot available. > New Support Class slot available. > Calculating past life influences… > Primary Classification Suggestion: Production.

A moment passed before I realized my eyes were closed. I opened them and gave a start at the room in which I found myself. Straight out of a dream, I was in the coziest workshop I had ever seen. Large rounded windows let in a soft golden sunlight that lit the room. Dust danced in the beams, falling lazily until it disappeared from the light. Broad oaken supports ran across the ceiling, arching overhead. The floors were silent and sturdy when I stepped out of the sunlight.

The craftsmanship that went into the room was apparent. A fireplace crackled in the corner, but that wasn't what captured my attention. It was a workbench. And it wasn't just any workbench that you got from Home Depot because it was 'On Sale!' for $189, regularly $499, but really, we all knew it was always $189, but we bought it anyway because it was what we needed to get that project done. No, this was a work of art.

It was one of those workbenches that Grandpa got from his dad, passed down, along with the gouges of a slipped blade, with the patina of countless creations and memories made. It was cluttered with all manner of tools. I saw awls, bone creasers, punches, pricking irons, skiving knives, mallets, spools of thread, blocks of wax—it looked like my table would have, had I the time to properly engage in my hobby. I saw it, and I wanted it. More than anything. A light brush against my leg startled me, causing me to jump.

It was a cat. A Siamese cat that looked up with bright blue eyes. It circled around for another rub, then jumped to the bench. Only, someone sat at the bench that was certainly not there a moment ago. A large man had his back to me; thick, wavy hair that had a gentle touch of gray flowed over his broad shoulders. He grunted at the cat and shooed at it, failing, as it just flopped onto its back and curled, belly up.

I just looked on as the man gently picked up the cat, still on its back, and placed it on a perch above the bench.

"He loves getting in the way, that one." He still didn't turn toward me. I stepped to the side slowly in an attempt to see his face, but his hair obscured it.

"I wouldn't have it any other way, though." I knew that voice...

"I found him as a kitten. Wouldn't believe it, but that was nigh on thirty years ago." He continued to work, pulling a sheet of leather down from a roll on the wall above the workbench. He picked up a curved blade and effortlessly cut a section with a soft whoosh of the well-maintained blade.

"Time doesn't mean as much as it used to. We have time here." The man paused before grabbing another blade, this one much narrower with a wooden handle, and made several quick cuts.

"Well, some of us have time. You do not, not yet anyway." It was mesmerizing to watch his hands dance as he cut the leather into several small wedges. I took my time when cutting, painstakingly inch by inch, careful of the tiniest inflection of the blade that could ruin the piece. This man worked faster than anything I'd ever seen; even on my tutorials I'd watch at two to three times speed.

"I've been expecting you. You're late. Other races have settled in this world, many years past." He switched it up, scooping out a small amount of white material from a tin that he lightly placed on the edges of the cutouts.

"You are somewhat of an inconvenience, I'm afraid. The existing races won't always take kindly to your presence." The man unrolled an arm's-length line of thread and pulled it through the wax several times before threading both ends onto needles. I had questions, but I couldn't bring myself to speak. My mouth just didn't want to open.

"Rescued worlds are brought here to finish their story, or make a new one. Some arrive because of a dying star, a giant meteor, or a great ugly beast, as in your case." He tugged sharply after mentioning Apotheos, causing the leather to bunch up, and cursed softly.

"Your path is long and difficult. I know you have questions; they all do. I will instead speak only of what matters. You must grow in power. If you have any hope of surviving or keeping your loved ones safe, you must become strong. There are many branches, but one trunk. Don't be a twig. It only leads to an end." His hands were a blur as he perfectly stitched the pieces together. He flipped his creation inside-out and shoved some scraps inside, then sewed it shut.

"What matters are the choices you make, and who you become." He snipped the thread and held a candle close, sealing the ends of the exposed threads. Abruptly, the man stood, and his chair fell back, clattering to the floor. The startled cat held its ears back, but remained calm as the man dangled a small leather ball in front of it. He let it fall, and the cat immediately tackled it.

"Who will you be?" The man turned to me. I stared at myself. Or, a version of myself. The 'other-me' didn't speak anymore. He only stared blankly ahead before taking a step forward. The world fell away and he blurred as he moved. Two other versions of him, of myself, diverged from one another and stood side-by-side. One was clad in resplendent plate armor, wielding a massive sword and shield. There was the craftsman-me, now hefting a large, rune-covered hammer onto his shoulder.

Lastly, I stood robed, or, other-me stood robed, a yellow sun-like radiance surrounded the figure that chased away the shadows. Somehow, I knew at that moment that these were representations of what I could become. The pinnacle of a path. > Determining viable integration location… > Safe-zone requirements met. > Region subsection classification: Minor combat readiness. > Select first class unlock…

> Combat > Production > Support I selected the 'Production' option and several options populated the notification space. > Chef: A production class that provides an outlet for the culinary creatives. Practitioners of this class will transform ordinary ingredients into extraordinary dishes that nourish both the body and mind. Provides +1 Vitality, +2 Dexterity, and +2 Intellect for each level in Chef. > Craftsman: A production class that creates goods of enhanced quality and quantity.

Whether creating tools, weapons, or other gear, the skillful steady hand of a craftsman is sure to impress. Provides +1 Dexterity, +2 Intellect, and +2 Wisdom for each level in Craftsman. > Farmer: A production class that is the lifeblood of any permanent civilization. Grow enhanced crops of superior quality and yield to provide sustenance for your settlement, or as trade goods. Provides +2 Strength, +2 Vitality, +1 Wisdom for each level in Farmer. There were a few other options: Builder, Laborer, Weaver.

But my eye was solidly locked on the one. I knew that I wanted to be a Craftsman. I didn't need some system to read into my psyche to know what I wanted. It's all I ever wanted to do in my old life. Now was an opportunity to do so, without boundaries. My only worry: what if things were dangerous? If I went with being a craftsman, it wouldn't really matter if I was dead. I glanced back and forth between the three forms, but my decision was made. It did say only minor combat readiness is required…

Confident in my choice, I took a step toward the middle figure and raised my hand to it. The other two forms faded. The selected form dissolved into a shifting mass of green, blue, and white motes that swirled around my outstretched arm, then flowed into my chest. > Primary Classification Selected. > Production Class assigned: Craftsman. > By selecting a suggested primary classification, you have gained random conceptual insight into your class. > Concept of Wisdom granted.

> No general skills available: Merging with a suitable aspect of human core… > Memory selected. > Craftsman skill unlocked: Recall > Through showing wisdom in uncertain times, you have gained the passive ability to recall information more easily. Additional levels in Wisdom will increase memory recall. > Craftsman Leveled Up! > Craftsman Leveled Up! > New Title: Otherworlder: Grants a small experience gain in addition to understanding the common tongue of Ossia.

Before I had a chance to revel in the feeling of vitality that flooded my body, the space around me bloomed with color as my new world came into focus. > Entering Fairfield City, Duchy of Duke Demarius IV