Alex didn’t feel the warp of space as he was summoned. One moment, he was in one place; the next, he was somewhere entirely different. Usually, instantaneous transport like that might leave him nauseated and dizzy, but the absence of these effects spoke to Nightmare’s exorbitant budget.

  Regardless, his mind spun.

  Room 0 - Holy Grounds

  His mouth hung open, and he was just about to ask the undead blacksmith… Christ, he had no idea what he’d been about to ask! That was so out of left field he didn’t even know where to start.

  “How can you be so certain?”

  “Who are you?”

  “Hell—what even are you?!”

  “How did a master blacksmith like you end up undead?

  “What do you mean reforge her?”

  Alex quickly bit back all his responses. Nothing was worse than spilling your closest-kept secrets before the most powerful, omniscient beings in the known universe—simply because you hadn’t been paying attention to the countdown. He winced, anticipating the soul-shaking chill that always accompanied the presence of the constellations.

  Strangely, it didn’t come. He pried one eyelid open.

  He found himself in a dark corridor, alone. Upon further reflection, that wasn’t so strange at all. The constellations weren’t known to wait around on a mere mortal’s arrival. It seemed he was supposed to come to them.

  The stone path ahead was littered with dirt and rampant overgrowth, though the cobblestones had clearly once been meticulously laid. He sniffed and noticed the air had a musty pungency, the kind that only came from being underground.

  Taking in his surroundings, it wasn’t hard to note that this room lacked the intentionality of all the others he’d visited. For lack of a better term, at least. The feeling was hard to pinpoint unless you knew how pocket worlds worked.

  It wasn’t necessarily that this room was dirtier than the others—though it certainly was. The difference lay more so in how everything in the previous rooms felt strategically placed—a stray totem pole off to the side here, a small sign of erosion in the wood over there—even the imperfections felt deliberate, fabricated to create the quintessential tiki bar. Or like how, during the tea party, no clouds blocked the sun in their drift because God knows an English gentleman wouldn’t have any glower with his tea and biscuits.

  The VIP rooms were glamorous and convenient, but when you looked past that, it wasn't hard to sense something unnatural about them, as if every little detail were by design.

  Because they were.

  Pocket worlds, in truth, were not worlds but pocket-sized dimensions. They were anchored to existence, but their degree of separation allowed them to veer from its continuity. This made it possible to bend the fabric of reality, yielding countless wonders—even manipulating time itself.

  An orange haze of lantern light approached Alex from down the tunnel.

  It had been approaching him for two minutes now ever since he first spotted it in the distance. The leisurely pace simplified the math of things: time in this room moved faster than the others; otherwise, his queue probably would’ve been shorter. It seemed this wouldn’t be the quick meet-and-greet Alex had hoped for.

  “Alex Smith,” an even voice intoned. “Follow me.”

  The man carrying the lantern had short, cropped hair and a cloth mask draped down to conceal his eyes. He wore long black robes bordered with crystalline threading, and on his left breast was the insignia of the Ozullen priesthood.

  Alex didn’t need the signifier to recognize he was one of the Empty—the eerily robotic cadence in his speech conveyed it well enough—and Alex wasn’t offended when the man didn’t wait for a response before returning the way he came.

  “Where are you taking me?” Alex asked.

  He hadn’t expected an answer, and naturally none came, but he wasn’t repeating the mistake he’d made with Velrick. His fingers traced the walls as they walked. Being accompanied by an Ozullen Empty was practically the same as being alone, so he let his thoughts wander.

  It’s not my imagination. This room is different from the others.

  Perhaps the Architects had simply paid closer attention to detail where the Constellations would visit, but that didn’t explain all of it. The tunnel walls were engraved with some type of hieroglyphics—runes, perhaps, but unlike any he’d ever seen. They seemed vaguely familiar, and as Alex looked closer, he faintly recognized the crude etching of a tortoise on one of the tiles.

  Akash.

  Alex revised his analysis. The constellations weren’t the most powerful beings in existence—the Primordial Gods were. And Akash, the Aspect of Space and Time, was one of them. If anyone knew what had happened to Alex, it would be him.

  But the Primordial Gods weren’t involved in even Immortal affairs, so Alex didn’t know what to think of that. Just that he’d be dead already if Akash truly wanted it.

  He controlled the shiver that ran down his spine.

  “How far are we going to walk? Answer me!” Alex demanded.

  The Empty didn’t respond. Their footsteps echoed on the cobblestones, and Alex found his mind drifting from the pointless questions as he continued asking them.

  The Constellations don’t know I’m from the future, he concluded.

  Was it conceited of him to think that? Most definitely. A small pocket dimension was one thing, but a disturbance in spacetime on that scale was unimaginable. Someone had to have noticed. But it was simply one of those things he had to take at face value—a false premise assumed to preserve his sanity. Because if the Constellations did know, the fact that they hadn’t smited him yet was a goddamn mystery.

  It was supposed to be a calming thought, but Alex wasn’t reassured.

  “We’re here,” the Empty said. “Go in.”

  A pair of large doors, half the width of the tunnel, scraped open against the cobblestones. Alex did as he was asked, and the man stayed behind as the doors closed on their own. An illogical thought emerged unbidden, and Alex’s rationale was helpless against it. He remembered that he hadn’t made it out alive the last time a room did that.

  It didn’t take long for him to realize he wasn’t alone, as a sudden thwoom passed through the air, and firelight chased away the darkness. Candles—countless of them—illuminated what looked like a throne room. Only a strip of walkway from the entrance where Alex stood to the far-end dais was left uncovered. Rather than a throne, the dais held a structure resembling an open-faced temple. Silky, translucent cloths were drawn behind its two forefront pillars, creating a fluttering floral curve. Behind them, three young women sat kneeling on plush, decoratively adorned cushions.

  These women were astonishingly beautiful, making Alex feel like he was already in the presence of gods. Like the man from earlier, their eyes and upper face were concealed, but their bejeweled clothes and the fullness of their lips conveyed their charm. Their priestess robes were worn more like dresses than traditional garb, accentuating all the right places. And as a blissful touch of incense wafted to his nose, he struggled not to gulp.

  “Alex Smith,” their voices serenaded unnaturally. “Welcome. You may kneel.”

  Only the knowledge that they were Empty and the emotionless cadence in their words kept Alex’s eyes from wandering.

  He kneeled. And finally, he felt the chill he’d been waiting for.

  The bidding for Alex Smith has concluded! The three highest bidders may now approach you with sponsorship offers. You retain the right to request a System Guide for guidance.

  WARNING: You are in the presence of a Constellation.

  Auriga, “The Charioteer”

  Alex shielded his eyes as a column of light engulfed the middle priestess. When he looked back, the priestess had transformed. She remained the same person—her allure was still potent, perhaps even more so—but her demeanor had shifted entirely. She no longer knelt in a prim and respectful manner. Instead, she shifted uncomfortably, eyed the cushion beneath her, clicked her tongue as if annoyed, and then stood.

  No, not her anymore.

  Auriga was the Constellation of Weaponcraft. And primordial or not, Constellations were undeniably beings of myth. Each governed their domain with such mastery that their existence was etched into the night sky. And now the Constellation of Weaponcraft towered over him. The weapons Auriga forged were legendary.

  Alex felt the intense gaze burning into the back of his neck. Its sheer power made him dread lifting his head.

  “Raise your head.”

  Alex obeyed. “Are you a—”

  “Am I a god?” Auriga interrupted, laughing—a gruff sound that seemed ill-suited to the voice of a goddess. “Ah, always the same question from you mortals. Never change, never change. Now, answer this. What is a god?”

  Alex didn’t need to feign confusion. Why was the god asking him that?

  “Any minute now, I don’t have long before the others arrive. Just because I placed the highest bid doesn’t mean I’ll entertain a boring prospect. Do not bore me, Alex.”

  Alex steadied his nerves, still processing the System’s notifications. This felt surreal, like something a younger version of himself might dream about and then forget when he woke up. He was the dregs of the twenty-four who’d been summoned here, but he had to approach the Constellations in his past life, and they’d all rejected him without visit. Now, to have them bidding on him…

  It doesn’t matter. I already know what I want.

  Or at least, that was what he wanted to say. He didn’t need the Constellations’ help, but their approach itself held significant. Rejecting them outright was dangerous; boring them sounded more ideal.

  “Uh, I…I’m an atheist,” Alex said dumbly. “Or I was… I’m not sure anymore.”

  He shifted nervously, moving his weight from foot to foot. He opened his mouth to speak, then visibly hesitated. He opened it further, then he stopped, glancing around anxiously.

  Auriga sighed and sat back down on the cushion.

  “An understandable, albeit, disappointing perspective,” Auriga remarked. “A river fish can find itself out of its depth in ocean waters. But I expected more from you. Let your mind swim freely now. Tell me, how do your beliefs change upon meeting a Constellation?”

  The question lacked the haughtiness Alex might’ve expected, were it coming from any lesser being. The presence before him was clearly superior, a fact anyone could discern without his trait constantly screaming that fact at him. It wasn’t the priestess’s unnatural beauty that touched him, but a deeper essence that emanated from the soul her body hosted.

  He recalled his first real encounter with a Constellation, remembering how easily such an experience could incite blind fanaticism.

  “You’re a god.” Alex sputtered blankly.

  “And?”

  “Auriga… I’ve heard that name. Greek mythology, I think. Are you from Earth?”

  Auriga’s expression dampened with disappointment.

  “No, I am not. I know the tales you speak of; they are mere stories. The stars speak the truth for those who listen, but mortals always add their spin, often involving tales of us fucking one another. Mortals and their imaginations.” Auriga waved her hand dismissively “Perhaps it is too soon to expect anything different from you. No matter. Actions speak louder than words, and our creations speak even louder for us. I know the title you have been granted, Alex, but I have yet to see the weapon itself.”

  Alex tensed visibly. “It broke in my most recent battle.”

  “So, you discarded it?”

  “No,” he replied. “It requires careful and gentle handling.”

  With genuine nervousness, Alex retrieved the Undeaths Bane from his inventory and approached at Auriga’s beckoning. The constellation took it in his hands—as the Constellation within the priestess was a man—and went silent.

  Standing this close to the priestesses, Alex was overwhelmed by their scent of bliss, and realized with unease that no incense was lit. He’d met Ozullen priestesses before, but never so many at once. Their allure was reverent rather than purely sexual. Yet Alex knew they weren’t goddesses nor undead creations. They were flesh and blood, chosen from an entire universe of women for their bewitching qualities, and he clung to that knowledge for sanity.

  By the time he could steer his mind back on topic, Auriga’s expression had turned pensive.

  “This is not bad. The shape suits the material; its design shines despite its limitations. Even with outside help, it’s clear you know your craft. I would not expect this level of detail from someone inexperienced with Oslumnen ore.”

  Alex pondered Auriga’s words. He didn’t know why the constellation assumed he had help, but he supposed that was fortunate. It did seem rather unbelievable that someone so new to the System could create such a blade in any case.

  Auriga tapped the blade’s tip, and a chime filled the air.

  “Moreover, I can see that you poured your soul into this piece. It’s rare for a freshly awakened—” Auriga paused. “Hm… Is it time already? Very well. Here is my offer, Alex.”

  The Constellation returned the blade with unusual deference. As Alex placed it back into his inventory, he realized his heart had been pounding the entire time. To have his precious blade in the hands of a God, and then to have such a fabled craftsman praise her… it was both a terrifying and deeply exhilarating feeling.

  Look at you, being drawn into their gravity again.

  But Alex wasn’t going to make the same mistake. He already knew his path…

  Alex’s mind trailed off, his breath caught.

  Elemental Forge-master

  A powerful blacksmith class specializing in infusing creations with elemental magic. They can craft weapons and armor that harness nature’s power and easily blend Elemental Aspects' auras together, offering unique combat abilities.

  Alex tried to mask his reaction, though his mind momentarily froze. He’d always believed all paths led to conflict in the apocalypse, but that wasn’t strictly true. This one didn’t. Craftsmen classes were a dime a dozen, but with such a rare and powerful class, someone would always be willing to protect him once he got out of Nightmare. Years later, when the Invasion turned for the worse, craftsmen were the first talents to be poached from Earth. A good craftsman class was practically a free pass onto Noah’s Arc if you lived long enough. And this class… wasn’t it Auriga’s fabled foundation class? The one he’d first started with when he was but a mortal man?

  Auriga smiled ruefully. “Alex, I have no doubt the other constellation’s offers will be good, but they won’t see what I see. All they’ll see is a broken blade, but she’s far from lost. If you accept my offer without seeing the others, I’ll personally guide you in reforging her. I’ll also remove you from the Integration and place you under one of my prized pupils.”

  Alex sputtered “You can do that?!”

  Wait, he was a god. Of course, he could. But… why?

  In a twisted way, the people of Dykriest weren’t wrong—the Integration did give a peculiar advantage to those who rose above it—but there was still a whole universe out there and more people to choose from than a mortal mind could imagine. Alex knew well that talent was not the real reason that they were sponsored, and removing him from the game only removed his value as a piece.

  Auriga seemed to read his thoughts. “It will be costly to take you this early. I may forfeit some rights but I have little at stake at this Integration. You can consider this proof of your value. On your current path, your light will dim, but under me, your name will echo across the stars. My eye for value is never wrong!”

  He tapped the cloth over his face. Alex’s heart pounded. Praise from a god was awe-inspiring, even if it was exaggerated. But he quickly reined in his emotions. Auriga may have an eye for value, but there were things even a Constellation couldn’t see. The System was a force comparable to Gods, and wouldn’t relinquish Alex’s more personal information even to them.

  If he can the Shamshir’s voice, then he probably suspects I have a bloodline. But he doesn’t know my trait. Nor that I’ve lived this life before.

  Astonishingly… Auriga might actually be undervaluing him, if anything. It had been but a single moment, marking the end of Earth’s existence, but Alex had experienced where his path ultimately led, and he knew that beyond Blacksmith-Warrior lay unexplored depths. For the price of his potential, he’d learned he could stand with the rest of them at the pinnacle of power.

  Yet, for all the determination Alex had come in here with, he hesitated. He had never met a blacksmith greater than his master, yet here he was, being offered mentorship by the Constellation of Weaponcraft.

  “Ah! That’s right, how could I forget!” Auriga exclaimed, misinterpreting Alex’s silence. “I can take your immediate family and one lover of your choosing.”

  He jumped. “My sister! Is she still—”

  With those words Alex forgot everything and the god raised his hand to silence him. “Ah—apologies, mortal. In my excitement, I seem to have forgotten decorum. I cannot provide information on others in the Integration until you agree to my offer. It is unfortunate, but out of my hands.”

  A pit formed in Alex’s stomach. Auriga’s refusal to elaborate filled him with dread, but he quickly pushed the fear aside, letting it dissolve with any remaining hesitation. He clenched his fist. Even if his sister was alive… he had no lover anymore.

  No, he wasn’t entertaining this offer. He couldn’t leave this world as he was. If the cost of an early retirement was putting himself under another Constellation’s control, then that was a non-starter. Though… that didn’t make rejecting the offer any simpler. He was walking a tight line here.

  “I… got three offers right? I’m… beyond flattered, but I’d like to explore my options first.”

  Distaste dripped from the god’s words. “I see. Then, you may find my offer less appealing when you return to take it.”

  As Auriga’s offer adjusted, the promise of tutelage vanished from Alex’s interface. Another column of light flared, consuming the priestess to Auriga’s right.

  When the light dissipated, the priestess remained as composed as before, perhaps even more rigid. The chill that crept down Alex’s spine was cold and unwelcoming.

  Serpens Cauda, “J?rmungandr’s Dusk”

  Constellation of Shadow.

  Alex had heard of Serpens. They were a constellation with two faces, Dusk and Dawn, Cauda and Caput. He didn’t know much about either except that they were powerful, and Dusk was elusive, having rarely sponsored anyone in his previous life.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  They whispered a single word, their voice an inhuman hiss.

  “Take…”

  Soul Reaver

  Soul Reavers are skilled assassins who harvest their victim’s essence. Their abilities revolve around absorbing and manipulating souls, which enhances their power and abilities.

  As expected, it was a stealth class.

  Alex knew the constellations could somewhat alter his Essence Signature, but this was unexpected. His stealth skill was still at an Adept level, yet he was offered something so powerful. It… would greatly improve his odds of killing Anne, most likely. If assassinating his enemies was his sole goal, and if he didn’t care about the cost, he’d have accepted it immediately.

  But none of those things were true. Comparing it to Auriga’s initial offer, he felt a pang of disappointment.

  “Not… good enough?” Serpens asked.

  Alex sensed the question wasn’t for him.

  “No,” Auriga said. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

  “I… see…”

  Alex frowned at those word. Not ‘good enough’.

  He reconsidered his disappointment, a wave of horror washing over him. In his previous life, such an offer would have been unimaginable, and declining it felt so wrong.

  He couldn't shake the senese that he was an imposter, that he didn’t really belong next to these other monsters. All he had done was use the knowledge and experience he already possessed. And if Jordan had experienced Nightmare the same way, Alex was certain the man would’ve stood where he was currently standing. And as Jordan had in his last life, he probably would have accepted one of the Constellation’s offers. For some, it worked out.

  For most people, it worked out.

  Sponsorships were more common by the Integration’s end, and Alex knew full well that his circumstances had been unique—a rare case. Yet the idea of placing his fate in a more powerful being’s hands still terrified him. Maybe he was just being stubborn. Dangers would always exist; uncontrollable forces would always loom in the distance. But now, he could be vigilant about them.

  He didn’t want to submit. However, he had to be realistic, and he didn’t want to anger the Constellations either. So long as it didn’t stray from his chosen path…

  Fine, he decided. I’ll consider it then. If the third offer is good enough.

  Alex watched the third priestess intently. Light flashed, and her demeanor shifted. She spread her legs, casually resting an arm on her knee. A chuckle escaped her, and her lips curled into a callous grin that marred her beauty.

  The chill Alex felt was invasive and disturbingly familiar.

  Orion, Constellation of the Hunt.

  “Kid,” Orion spoke, “I’ve only got one shot at this. I can grease some hands if you’ll tell me what these two are offering.”

  “Orion, you bastard! You know that’s not how this works!”

  “Not… you… again…”

  Orion laughed at the curses, his wheezing chuckle all too familiar to Alex.

  Why is he here?

  This was the second time! Hell, why did he even sponsor me in his first life? Well, that had a simple answer, but Alex had held suspicions it went deeper than that. He’d had the chance to confirm them before he…

  Orion clicked his tongue, curling a finger at Alex. “Over here, kiddo. Show me the sword already, will ya?”

  Alex masked his emotions, almost clenching his fist as he slowly handed over his sword. “Please take good c—”

  Orion examined its edge—then swung recklessly, slicing through a pillar. The temple structure groaned as it half-collapsed, the roof tilting precariously, nearly crushing the priestess the constellations possessed.

  Alex’s heart leapt out of his chest. He barely restrained himself from scrambling up there and reclaiming his sword, when he saw no further damage was done to her. Orion inspected the cleanly sliced pillar and then glanced at the blade again.

  “Huh. There’s power there, but it doesn’t cut well. And it’s broken.”

  He tossed the Shamshir back carelessly and it clattered on the floor. Alex cradled her, hiding her away in his inventory.

  Serpens hissed. “Orion!”

  “Oh, shut it, snake. The roof’s still holding, isn’t it? And you, Auriga…” Orion pursed his lips. “Weren’t you supposed to be taking it easy this time? ”

  “Orion. I know you’re just here to outbid the Seven Sisters. Don’t do anything you might regret,” Auriga replied, tone stern.

  Alex’s eyes widened briefly at the mention of the Seven Sisters, but he quickly concealed his reaction. Auriga glared at Orion, the latter grinning mischievously when he looked back at Alex.

  “Here, take a look.”

  Celestial Paladin

  Celestial Paladins are holy warriors blessed with divine power. As the highest medium they follow in their Deity’s footsteps. With enough devotion, they can channel their Deity’s power within themselves.

  For a long moment, no one spoke. The only indication that Serpens had left was the uncomfortable shiver with which the priestess spoke her final words.

  “Good… bye…”

  The Constellation’s presence faded into nothing.

  “Hey, it looks like Snake Tail’s out of the running. You’re first bid, Auriga. You can adjust your offer now if you want,” Orion cackled. As he whipped his head to the side, the priestess’s eye mask fluttered briefly.

  To become a medium for a god was no simple feat. Without the power of such a legendary class, a person had to be emptied completely to make room for such a being. As the mask fluttered, Alex saw the scarring of gouged eyes on the priestess and remembered that it was not only meant in spirit.

  “Curse you, Orion! I could call your bluff! I know you can’t afford to give out such a powerful class again this early!”

  The other priestess curled her lip in anger, and Alex thought she couldn’t have been much older than his sister.

  “You could call my bluff, and I might be in a bit of trouble then. But…” Orion looked back at Alex, his expression thoughtful. “You won’t.”

  The two gods began bickering, completely forgetting a mortal like Alex was even there. But when you removed the magic, and looked at it all through the lens of the purely mundane, it was just two tortured, broken young women forced to act as vehicles for a catfight. Alex lived in a universe where that was simply the way of things.

  He turned to new information to distract his mind.

  The Seven Sisters. Together, they made up the Constellation of the Guiding Light. Laura’s Constellation. Alex couldn’t imagine why they’d go so far as to try sponsoring him, but they were a minor Constellation. And Orion was one of the most powerful in existence. It couldn’t have been hard for him to outbid them.

  Then, there was the fact that someone had apparently already received a legendary Class from Orion. That also wasn’t a mystery. Xuan Yuxuan was by far the most powerful Earther under Orion’s sponsorship, and he was infamous for his abilities.

  Finally, there was the mysterious constellation who’d gifted Alex the gauze. He didn’t expect that they’d go as far as to try bidding on him, and it just didn’t feel like something the Seven Sisters would have done. Alex could only assume he’d been right and that he was just a convenient pawn to keep alive. Yet another morsel of trouble on his plate.

  Ah… the gauze, that’s probably why Auriga thought I had help. He thinks it's the Seven Sisters.

  Alex turned each new piece of information over in his head, examining it all closely. His mind focused on anything and everything except the offer floating on his interface before him. It was a no-brainer, an offer he couldn’t refuse.

  But Alex would refuse it.

  For a second, everything seemed so simple. He saw the world in black and white, and as Auriga harrumphed and acquiesced, the puzzle pieces clicked together.

  “Fine.” The constellation said. “Alex, consider yourself lucky. I wouldn’t normally do this for someone who hasn’t yet proven themself.”

  Your offer has been amended. Upon reaching a suitable level, an additional Class Upgrade Quest will be guaranteed for Elemental Forge-Master.

  “But I have one condition. You must leave Nightmare.”

  Alex closed his eyes. The puzzle clicked completely in his mind’s eye.

  It all made sense now. Leaving the Integration, taking him from Nightmare. They were forcing him to choose either Warrior or Blacksmith, but not both—not from the start. Alex was unwanted in Nightmare; his path was unwanted. He’d always known that, but to elicit this kind of reaction?

  Alex finally looked over his options.

  I don’t enjoy killing. With such a powerful smithing class, he could see it. He could take a future where he and his sister could be protected and he didn’t have to dirty his hands to accomplish that. Assuming she wasn’t already dead. But in the end… it didn’t matter.

  Because Alex wasn’t just a blacksmith anymore. He was a warrior, too.

  And I already know what path—

  Congratulations! A Constellation has used their Special Privilege to upgrade your Foundation Class options. Class Requirements for Alex Smith have been upgraded.

  Blacksmith-Warrior has been upgraded to ???

  ???

  You must raise your eligibility or have this Class appraised to view this information.

  ERROR: You must purchase a Skill Path or meet Class requirements to view your Class Quest.

  Alex found himself half collapsing as he stepped back. Orion gave him a subtle wink.

  “Wait—what’s happening,” Auriga asked. “What did you—oh. You fool… You only get one of those, and you use it like this?”

  “Consider it my amends,” Orion said. “And, you owe me one. I could see it in his eyes. The boy was about to reject you.”

  Alex could hardly hear the words the hunter spoke. He felt like prey, tied in chains and wrapped up as an offering. It had happened again. He’d been stolen from! But why?!

  He was just getting started! He hadn’t done anything! How were they able to just do this to him? They’d gifted him a Class upgrade he didn't even meet the requirements for! Didn’t these kinds of privileges have strict System regulations?!

  No, if it's the System, there’s only one common denominator…

  Alex stilled, then regained his footing. When he spoke his following words, he almost struggled to keep the venom from them “I’d like to see my System Guide.”

  “If that’s okay,” he added a beat late.

  * * *

  Within mere seconds, Velrick sauntered into the great hall with ruffled hair and the grumpiness of a man who’d had his afternoon nap interrupted. He shot Alex a piercing look.

  Velrick: I thought told you to call me if you were offered sponsorship

  Alex could practically hear the man’s sardonic bite through the interface’s message. Yet, for all that he claimed otherwise, he seemed displeased to have been called there.

  No, you told me I shouldn’t accept any sponsorships without having you present, Alex thought bitterly. He hadn’t planned on accepting them in the first place. It was a petty difference, he knew. And he didn’t care to quibble at this moment.

  Alex: Did you approve this?

  Velrick narrowed his eyes, and his hands worked rapidly, moving across the air in front of him faster than could be traced. Alex assumed a neutral expression but watched the guide’s reaction like a hawk, reading his expression for even the subtlest changes.

  There’d always been too much that was off about the man, and Alex waited to feel even the slightest bit of ill intent from Velrick, but there was nothing. As far as Alex’s senses told him, the confusion was genuine.

  “This isn’t correct,” Velrick finally said. “Special privileges must be approved through the System. They must reach the System Guide, and the Awakened in question must consent before approval. This privilege has been used unlawfully.”

  Orion’s smile finally dropped.

  “System’s representative or not,” he growled, “I won’t tolerate this farce! I requested it through the proper channels, and the System approved my request.”

  “Maybe,” Velrick said dully, “but I didn’t receive it, and there was no consent. I will file an audit for internal investigations. If corruption is at hand, the consequences will be severe.”

  Orion snorted. Alex might’ve as well if there was anything the slightest bit funny about this situation. An upgrade he didn’t know the requirements for wasn’t a gift but a death sentence.

  No, it was a trap.

  Alex: And how long will that take?

  Velrick stifled a yawn.

  A week at least. Maybe a full month to thoroughly investigate

  Alex’s fists curled at his sides, burning intently with a desperate fire—the kind that had nowhere to go.

  Xii-Velrick… Alex still didn’t trust the man, but there was no way to prove he was part of anything amiss. Neither here, nor in Alex’s last life, had his trait warned him of ill intent; and it had never otherwise been wrong. It... didn’t even matter anymore. He was cornered, and there was nothing he could do about it. There was only one way out for him.

  “Someday, your schemes will backfire, Orion,” Auriga said. “For now, Alex, my offer is still on the table.”

  The Hunter put his hands up innocently, but a smile still tugged at the corner of the priestess’s mouth. And at that moment, Alex remembered what he’d done to invoke the Hunter’s wrath—the reason Orion had given him that curse.

  He swore he would do worse this time.

  But he buried his anger, locked it in that dark place in his mind, and stepped forward. The anger he showed now was a joke in comparison. The contained indignity of a newly Awakened who still didn’t understand what gods were, just that he shouldn’t mess with them. He felt three gazes on his back as he bowed down.

  No, he felt only two, but he knew Velrick was watching anyway, expectantly. There was only one sane and logical decision for him to make. Orion had gone out of his way to curry favor with Auriga; there was only one route where Alex’s head didn’t end up on the chopping block.

  But I just… can’t do it.

  “Auriga, Orion, thank you for the offers," Alex said, his hand over his heart, "I’m sorry. I don’t mean to offend you, but I can’t accept them at this time.”

  Instantly, the Constellation’s overpowering gazes, which were somewhat tolerable earlier, seemed to seethe with malice, and Alex could tell that they were more than just offended.

  He’d made the gods furious. Again.

  Room 11 - American Dive-Bar

  “No, the whole bottle, please,” Alex said tiredly.

  The bartender handed him the entire jug of Columbia Gorge, and he drank it down thirstily. Velrick, who had followed him for some reason, stared at him.

  “That was a mistake,” Velrick scolded. “If you were trying to get yourself killed, then congratulations.”

  No, you were trying to get me killed. Though Alex knew better than to voice groundless accusations. He couldn’t even prove it. Was this ambiguity what normal people felt or was he just deluded?

  What was Velrick’s deal anyway? Nothing about the man added up. Velrick held the Xii honorific, marking him as a member of the Twelfth Order beholden to the System, which should place him high up. Yet, despite his status, he carried himself with the carelessness of a brat who hadn’t worked a day in his life.

  And even him being part of the Twelfth Order didn’t answer everything. Alex noticed how Velrick had threatened Orion back there, and he’d notice a lot more than that over the years. Orion wasn’t a constellation known to tolerate intemperance, yet he had seemed to regard Velrick with more weight than his position should afford. Was it all just a ruse?

  It had to be. But then his trait…

  “Another bottle!” Alex demanded.

  He gripped the jug of orange juice tight, wiped his mouth, and regarded Velrick with wary eyes. He was surprised to see his calculating expression mirrored back at him.

  “I assume you have a plan?” Velrick asked.

  “No, I was just angry.”

  Velrick hummed noncommittally.

  “It’s the truth,” Alex said.

  “Don’t double down. It just makes you look guilty.”

  Suppressing his annoyance, Alex stalked off. It was the truth—just not all of it.

  Room 44 - Smithy

  He paused outside the smithy’s doors again, calming himself as he listened to those melodic strikes. The undead was still working hard inside. He didn’t know who it was who already had enough tokens for the blacksmith’s work, but whoever they were, they were a lucky man.

  Xuan Yuxuan, probably, Alex thought with a scowl.

  He waited a bit longer by the entrance, willing his heart to stop its pounding. The smithy could be more precious than a home to some blacksmiths, and you didn’t barge into another man’s home with anger.

  Gracefully, he opened the door.

  The blacksmith immediately stopped his work this time, his skeletal body turning to face Alex. The glaze of forge fire danced orange across his ivory bones, and Alex saw a world’s worth of depth in his eyes once more. It might’ve overwhelmed him if he hadn’t just spent the last fifteen minutes surrounded by the constellations.

  No, it was overwhelming even then. Alex had to tear his gaze away when he saw too deep—when he saw the pain.

  “I see you didn’t accept their offers,” the skeleton said.

  “How did you…”

  Alex trailed off as he found himself distracted. The undead’s chains… were they tighter now? Their runic glow seemed to shine more intensely. He followed them with his eyes, from the manacles around the undead’s wrists and ankles to…

  Alex peered around the corner and found that the chains had no perceivable end. They just stopped suddenly, disappearing into warped reality. Another mystery to add to the pile. Alex had more pressing concerns for now.

  “No,” he said, his tone airy. “I didn’t. More importantly, when I was about to leave, you mentioned something. That it was possible to reforge my blade. I want to know how.”

  “Alas, that’s not mine to tell.”

  Alex narrowed his eyes. It wasn’t his imagination—the chains seemed to be getting tighter.

  “But that’s also not why you’re really here, is it?” the skeleton continued.

  “No,” Alex admitted. “This is mostly just a hunch, a desperate shot in the dark, but your… style of blacksmithing reminded me of someone.”

  “Did it?”

  Alex thought he sensed humor in the remark. “Yes, he was the most knowledgeable blacksmith I’d ever known, and I was hoping you could help me in his absence. I don’t know why the constellations have you chained up here, and I won’t pry, but it seems your relationship isn’t all that amicable. I know that doesn’t grant me the right to ask, but they’ve blocked my path—or… upgraded it,” Alex said through gritted teeth. “Anyway, they’ve given me a Class which I don’t meet the requirements to. And I can’t see my Class Quest”

  “Yes… that doesn’t sound ideal.”

  Alex bowed his head, his hand over his heart. “If you could help me, I… It’d be more than I could ask for.”

  I would be forever in your debt.

  Alex stopped himself before he said the words aloud. He wouldn’t swear blind fealty to such a creature again. Seconds passed and he prayed, not to any god, but to fate itself. He didn’t have what it took to defy it again, but he didn’t want it all to end here. He didn’t want her to end here either—his Shamshir’s spirit.

  The seconds stretched and it took all he had not to stir awkwardly. It was hard to read the body language of a thing without much body, but the undead skeleton seemed unperturbed. When those bones finally moved again, it was with a rattled sigh.

  “I’m afraid I can’t give you the knowledge you seek. I likely won’t be here when you return.”

  That pit in Alex’s stomach reopened, threatening to swallow him whole. His shoulders slumped. It had been a wild gamble—perhaps just a tantrum of a child unable to come to terms with the world—but he’d already known how this would play out. The rejection clouded Alex’s vision, until he processed that last part.

  “Wait… you won’t be here? Why—”

  “There, that should do.”

  The undead grasped the lowest rung of its rib with bony hands and snapped it off.

  ???

  This item must be appraised to be identified.

  Alex now held it in his hand, speechless.

  “Oh, and that too.”

  ERROR has been overridden. ??? Class Quest revealed:

  Reforge your blade into a Named Weapon.

  The undead shook its hand as if it had just touched something unpleasant. Once again, Alex couldn’t quite find the words for what he wanted to say.

  A named blade…

  “I would be quick if I were you,” the skeleton said.

  “I…”

  Alex cut his question short when he felt the whirr of magic—a powerful spell with the power to tear continents. The runes along the undead’s chains lit up, shining with a white glow, and only then did the rest of the creature’s words fully settle in.

  ‘I likely won’t be here when you return’

  The room was blindingly bright now as the chains constricted, their magic singing at fever pitch. Alex scrambled to get away, sparing only a glance for the creature who had so willingly—so puzzlingly—sacrificed itself for him.

  “A shame,” the undead muttered at his workstation. His decrepit expression felt almost forlorn at that moment. “How unbecoming of me to leave a commission unfinished.”

  * * *

  Alex stepped out of the portal and back into Starter Town’s smithy, almost dazed to find the place exactly how he’d left it. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised to see the sun in the same position in the sky. And he should’ve expected the pain as well. It hit him like a truck the second he stepped out of the gate.

  “Ah, fuck…”

  Alex collapsed on the ground, clutching his sides, though it was his whole body that hurt. Distantly, he was aware of being watched.

  “Why are you still here?” he spat.

  Velrick shrugged, but Alex saw more than just boredom in his eyes. “Like I said, Alex, you’re a curiosity. And I’m not the type who can go back to sleep just after being woken up.”

  Alex scowled.

  “As your System Guide, everything I am privy to here is strictly confidential.”

  Well, that at least Alex knew to be true. He recalled that guides had to take an oath for that sort of thing.

  Not like I can tell him no in any case.

  Alex stood up with tender care and unsteady legs and started arranging his workspace. He returned the anvil and all the other tools he’d taken into his inventory to their rightful places, then examined his blade to ensure it was undamaged by Orion’s antics. Once his concern was appeased, he set his mind on the rest of the matter.

  There was a reason Alex had been so surprised to see such a skilled blacksmith in the VIP rooms. He was starting to understand at least some of why the Constellations were so vehement about denying him his path in Nightmare.

  If you took two blacksmiths—assuming neither were terrible—and gave them the same quality of material, most of the time, they would produce a weapon of similar grade. That was all well and good, but the more skilled blacksmith would tune it to suit its user. Alex knew firsthand the difference that could make. He had been nothing special after falling from grace, and his Wyvern blade’s original purpose had been fulfilled, yet their remaining synergy was the only reason Alex had kept pace with the others as they outleveled him. It didn’t take a sharp mind to see why the Architects didn’t want that kind of creativity here.

  While the blacksmiths in Nightmare were good, they didn’t go the extra mile with their materials. What you gave was what you got. Afterall, such a thing didn’t align with Nightmare’s purpose. They were all just hundreds of thousands of lambs to the slaughter, simply to create a handful of monsters—but what if one of those lambs were given sharper horns?

  Then they might not take kindly to being slaughtered.

  Alex rolled his neck, working out the cracks. Naturally, he’d considered this going into Nightmare—but if it were just that, then his actions couldn’t possibly warrant a fraction of the ire he’d garnered. Alas, theory was just theory, and now Alex saw how the bigger picture warped when that theory was taken to extremes. Say you took two blacksmiths and gave them potent ores or the right mix of materials. Except this time, rather than just being skilled, say, one of those blacksmiths was an absolute master at their craft. That master didn’t just forge a well-suited weapon, but a named one.

  Alex was no master. He’d only done that once and he considered it a fluke more than anything. But if that skeleton was truly gone, he was the closest thing Nightmare had. And perhaps… that might’ve been what the Constellations feared from him.

  Well, fuck them for over-estimating me.

  Alex almost let out a hysterical chuckle but cut it short, remembering Velrick was still there. He let everything fade into the background of his mind as he focused on the forging.

  So, what to do?

  He turned his attention to the worktable, scratching his chin absently. His Shamshir, shimmered with a flickering dark purple hue under the forge’s firelight. The cracks began above the blade’s midsection, their jagged lines marring her once flawless surface.

  Yup, they’re all the way through. And too deep to grind out.

  It was too late and too bothersome to keep regretting that fact. He’d hoped she might survive the night unscathed, but Oslumnen metal, for all its beauty and allure, was as brittle as it was hard. By rational logic, the only existing choice was between retiring her to a display or breaking her down for materials. And he'd expected this.

  What Alex hadn’t anticipated was how attached he’d become.

  “It’s puzzling,” he whispered. “What exactly did you do back there?”

  He didn’t know whether to expect an answer. Like those fleeting moments of eagerness he sometimes sensed during the bloodshed. Or the contentment he'd noticed when they'd Severed Lionheart's Core.

  Nothing came.

  “Hungry?”

  He tapped the core of one of the Captain-rank undead against her edge. Still, nothing.

  “Maybe talking to your swords really is just a poor coping mechanism for loneliness…”

  The firelight played along her blade as if in silent agreement.

  Okay, so reforging it is.