Orbs of sapphire fire met Grey’s own. “You’re back.”

“I am.”

Legate nodded. “You still wish for my people’s aid in your little war, then?”

“I don’t,” Grey said. “I will have their- and your- allegiance.”

The suit of armor turned to the great battle etched into the wall. “We follow none save the Emperor, and she is long dead.”

“I am the only one who can enter the trial.” Grey’s words were a statement, not a question.

The trial was the part of the Steel Legion Dungeon that his Evolution had repurposed, which was what gave it the Diamond classification. While those who did not live in the Dungeon could only explore a limited part of it, the beings inside had access to a greater amount of space, one that either replicated or had once been a part of their old world. Grey had thought it made little sense why the Legate so readily allowed him access to the Dungeon, even with the deal they had made. He had later deduced that it was a hope. A hope that their emperor had returned.

It made sense. Historically, the idea of a returning messiah or great leader was actually quite common. Though the Steel Legion weren’t human, Grey had already made the guess that the Dungeons selected for his planet were all meant to be palatable to the human mind. It was why races similar to those long given shape in the public mind like goblins and orcs appeared instead of things more eldritch. It was also why he had the mental framework to at least work with the concept of Steel Legion society.

The trick was to appear as that messiah. He had already lost to the trial once, but he still gave himself about an eighty percent chance of winning the Legate over. He had to become indomitable. He had to appear in control of every situation, of the trial, of everything.

It was good, then, that such things were second nature to Grey. Many believed genius was found in masterful plans like the one he had pulled over Jessica. Many were wrong. In truth, his plan for Jessica had involved many alterations and improvisations. Real genius was merely the sum of many intelligent habits.

“Yes,” the Legate said after a long moment. “You are.”

“Then I am meant for it. Your emperor died.” Grey moved towards the door that led to the trial. “Today, a new one is born.”

Battle plan started.

The room beyond was the same as it was prior. The steel suit rattled to its feet, making the same declaration as it had before. Grey ignored it and stabbed.

Grey had not learned Battle Scripting. He had learned a Battle Script, however, and that was all he needed. In truth, it was a reckless plan, one made only possible because he had faced the suit of armor before. He knew two things: it repeated the same sword patterns and it used a dulled blade.

In short, he would take three hits to give one, but the one was all that mattered. He removed his shirt, revealing a torso marked by dark runes arrayed in circular patterns.

The knight parried Grey’s spear and moved inside his reach. Its shoulder rammed into his chest. He leaned into it. The blunted blade hammered into his shoulder. Then his side.

Grey stumbled, leaning out of the way of a stab to the head. The next blows came in a steel rain, hitting his arm, his chest, his leg. He blocked some, took others. The bruises had already started to show on his pale skin. Blood leaked.

Pain was a chasm. The deeper one went, the bleaker things looked. There seemed to be no escape. No option save fear. A special few, however, reached the bottom of the chasm. There, they found something. They found victory.

“Your form is quite shoddy,” the steel suit said. “Let me give you some instruction. Your blade-”

Grey moved. He was not quite a blur, but such speed was now beyond him, even with Battle Scripts. It was not about being fast, however. It was about being faster. A duel was a dance. The opponents grew used to a tempo and to their opponent’s movements and patterns. Grey was no longer the dancer he might once have been, however. He could only break the dance.

His spear rammed into the empty helmet, dropping the armor limply to the ground. The trial was meant to teach as much as it was to test. He was meant to learn the correct movements and recognize the combat forms of the Steel Legion. He didn’t have the time, however.

Learning to fight their way would see him dead. Cheating, he thought as Regeneration worked on his bruised body, was his only path. He was not a member of the Steel Legion. He was more. He would use the power of one Dungeon to conquer another.

The door to the next trial challenge sat unlocked. Grey ignored it, pulling several books from his Inventory instead. He could at least learn more about Battle Scripting while his body repaired itself. Conquering the trial might be impossible or close to it. He didn’t know how long it was or how many rooms it had. He didn’t need to, however. He only had to show he could conquer it, given enough time. Then he could start his diplomacy.

When his wounds had healed, he entered the next room. It was the same as the last, bare and wide. Two suits of armor now greeted him, but instead of swords alone, they held shields in their opposite hands. Grey nodded.

This was not about winning, at least not on the first try. He had learned a valuable lesson about the trial; it allowed him to leave freely. That meant he could lose, head back to the last room, and return with a plan. Regeneration would make his body look unharmed, and he had already removed his shirt, meaning that his clothes would be unmarked. In other words, the Legate would see him returned untouched.

The two knights advanced, and Grey fought them. It was a losing effort, but that was fine. He needed only their patterns.

He lost and returned to the previous room. Battle Scripting dissolved the ink on his skin, and he pulled out his notebook once more, flipping to the page that had the paper-mens’ notes on a specific Script. His own Scripts and innovation would come eventually, but first, he would steal from others.

He made some quick calculations in his head. Math was far from his favorite subject, but he had forced himself to train his computing skills when majoring in computer science in college. Battle Scripting pushed even his own limits. He withdrew a ruler and a few other instruments before willing the patterns to appear on his skin, his thoughts running away. When he was nearly done, he withdrew his boss’s old watch and took a look at the time before nodding to himself.

War was a science. It was a study of give and take, of psychology, of dominion. Parts of it could be quantified; others could not. Grey had read much on the subject. In particular, a certain passage was coming to mind, one from Niccolo Machiavelli’s book The Prince. While the book leaned more towards politics and governance than war, it had lessons that applied to both. The passage he had in mind discussed loyalty. In particular, a leader won loyalty either by love or fear.

Fear seemed more appealing to Grey. It was more dependable. A single mistake could rid a population of love, while a single rumor could cement fear in the same population. The problem was that he was unsure what the Steel Legion would fear. Their situation was already terrible. He had to choose love, then. It was a difficult thing to do, but luckily for him, the previous emperors had done much of the legwork.

To this end, he started the plan he had set into his place the day before. As he was now, Grey had little skill with his spear or any weapon. His movements were efficient and brutal, but they lacked finesse or subtlety. There had been no sparring partners in the desert, only death. The Legate might make deals with him, but he would have no chance at winning it’s loyalty, not as it was. He had to become their emperor reborn, forged in this trial as his predecessors before. Making sure his appearance seemed unruffled was one part of this plan. He now started the other.

A silver device appeared from his hands. Runes covered it. This was the product of another of the ink-men’s racial Evolutions, one he didn’t have access to. It was the same one that he had used to forge counterfeit Keys into explosive devices. Jessica would be aware of the trick, meaning its use was limited going forward. He had decided it was time to wring the rest of its usefulness out now.

A thought activated the device. Evolution Points flooded into him. Jessica would have her bases of operation searched frequently for Chi devices. He had memorized the time and location of the three organizations’ patrols, however, and most would think nothing of metal canisters laying in the middle of ruined streets. The rest was just details.

It was not a foolproof plan, of course. By now, many would have Evolutions that resisted such explosions. His success on the rooftop had only come because his opponents were sure of victory and the amount of explosive devices were overwhelming. He had come away with minor injuries himself. Patrols, however, had their guard up, meaning protective Evolutions would be in place. This also meant this specific tactic would be accounted for going forward, even if Jessica ignored it. She, of course, wouldn’t. In fact, he was sure he could guess her potential next moves.

Those were plans for another time, however. He poured his new Evolution Points into Single Player, scraping just slightly past the limit. The feelings of euphoria washed over him. His face remained impassive.

The Rank up came with two effects, but he ignored one. The other was the addition of a new list on his status called Paths. He selected the screen.

Paths- (0/1 Selected)

Warrior

+10% to all melee combat skill learning

Marksman

+10% to all ranged combat skill learning

Scholar

+10% to all book-based learning

A half smile pulled at his lips. The being that inhabited Single Player was clever. The whole Evolution was about choice. Giving him a flat bonus to all learning was apparently past its limits, so it had presented him with these Paths. The concept was simple. He opened up more Paths with his experiences, and progressing far in one would open up more specific Paths that offered up greater bonuses. Very clever. He had a better partner than he had believed, and they were partners- ones who were using each other for their own benefit.

He selected Warrior, though Scholar called to him. He had to leave this trial a greater warrior than he entered to establish his reputation as the emperor reborn. Returning to these familiar grounds had awakened something in him. The Legate would be skeptical, of course, but Grey planned on spreading the information to the Steel Legion directly. His access to the Dungeon, after all, was unfettered.

He stepped back into the next room. This time he focused on the responses he had developed to counter the patterns he had spotted the last time. The first few times, his reactions felt slow, but soon, he could feel the memory seeping into his muscles. An activation of his Script, and he eliminated one. His spear snuck past the shield of the other.

His training had begun.

The next two rooms progressed as he had expected. The third had three opponents, and the fourth added another. He had faced adversity in both, failing the fourth twice, but his new capacity for learning made spotting patterns and developing countermeasures easier. He also had to take frequent rests to account for his limited stamina and strength. That was fine, however. His style was no longer dependent upon physical attributes. It was instead based on preparation. He found patterns and dissected them. His reaction speed didn’t matter if he knew what was coming.

On the fifth room, however, he encountered something different. It wasn’t a suit of armor at all. It was a sort of apparition. It looked almost like a man. Its skin was gray, almost blue, and it had no hair, only strangely large eyes. It wore armor in the same manner as the others of the Steel Legion save for its helm. Horizontally slanted pupils rested there.

“I am Swordmaster. Before you ask, no, I am not living. Not truly. I am simply the combined memories of a dozen sword tutors imbued in a puppet made by the greatest craftsmen my people have ever seen. I’ll spare you the story, however.” The apparition moved, and Grey could make out the mannequin-like body under its image. “You take the trial, so I will test you. I want a display of skill, not victory. No Evolutions, if you would.”

Grey lifted his spear. “Can I ask a question?”

Swordmaster inclined his- or her- head. “Sure.”

“Did my Evolution summon you? Has this part of the Dungeon always been here?” It was a question that had nagged at him. He had to understand what his Evolution fundamentally did.”

“Yes and no. Yes, the trial has always been here, and yes, it was altered to be as you have seen it when we were imprisoned. If our Dungeon had gone to a place with a great enough population, this would be part of our Diamond form. Instead, your Evolution has repurposed it. By challenging and defeating rooms, you can gain the rewards we offer. I offer training. Others offer items, ones you can summon I’d guess. Some are more… unique. Satisfied?”

Grey nodded. “I suppose.”

They fought. Grey lost. The challenge was completed.