An excerpt from a rough draft of 'A Compendium of Interesting Discoveries' by Fretic Du Dash, explorer of the 2nd Wave

One of the more interesting waves of late, I find myself drawn to the 11th Wave in a way that I cannot explain. For example, while exploring one of the unclaimed Dungeon Worlds, I came upon a tree made entirely of organic metal. In all my days, I have never seen anything like it. The metal grows voraciously, suffocating other plants and using their bodies as some sort of organic fuel. I find myself excited to discover other oddities within this wave. I have not been this excited since the arrival of the 5th Wave.

It takes us two days to gather all the information we need. Doc’s people are talented at hiding in plain sight and mapping out their daily and nightly paths, without being discovered, is a difficult task. By the end of the second day, we know their routines and have a series of steps that outline my attack. No plan survives contact with the enemy but I swear … if any plan were able to survive contact it would be one created by my mother. The woman plans for contingencies within contingencies and keeps them all straight in her mind, quizzing and testing me to ensure I know the best possible solution to a problem.

Finally, the dreadful night arrives.

Foreign stars glisten above me as I walk away from the manor. The city rests in silence, only interrupted by the heavy steps of the occasional patrolling guard. After a busy day of construction and preparation for the Trial, all those who would normally be up at this late hour are instead slumbering in their beds, bodies tired from manual labor. Sleep has taken the place of bustling toil.

A guard passes within feet of me but doesn’t react, his mind overwritten by the illusion of emptiness that I project in his direction. I am grateful to the guards for their actions and the hard work of having to help police these frightened people, but I have no intention of bringing them with me. Where I go tonight is not a place for the faint of heart or those married to their ideals.

Tonight I bloody my hands.

The man crouches outside of the young family’s home, waiting for the signal from his partner keeping an eye on the wandering guards. He’d been watching this house for the past few days and suspected they had some of the things Doc was looking for. If he could get his hands on some of that pre change tech … he unconsciously licks his lips as he imagines the rewards that he could be showered with. He’d been robbing houses since the change and this was the first one that might have exactly what the boss wanted.

A light whistle gets his attention, the agreed upon signal that let him know he had thirty minutes before the guard would return. Just as he turns toward the house, a brief flash of light breaks through the darkness of the night. While the man would normally brush it off, the light appeared to have come from where his partner was stationed. He hated to delay the break in but Doc was adamant about working in pairs.

He sneaks down the street, careful to avoid any position that would allow those within the house to see him, and eventually reaches the alley where his partner was supposed to be stationed. He quickly whistles the pre-arranged tune, waiting for the counter signal. Instead of being treated to a low bird whistle, nothing but silence carries out of the alley.

“Drak? Where the hell are you?” he whispers. Taking a step further in, a flash of color catches his eye and what he sees causes him to take a quick step back, grabbing his knife and holding it in front of him. On the ground in front of him rests his partner’s body, blood pouring out of a careful cut around his neck.

The sight causes the man to freeze for a second but he shakes himself out of it quickly. Doc needs to know about this, he thinks, all thoughts of the heist removed from his mind. Internally mapping out the quickest route to get to Doc, he turns around to run and stops instantly, finding his way blocked by a young man with dark hair and strangely gaunt eyes. His hands don’t seem to hold any weapons but the man feels something … daunting about this figure in front of him.

Brandishing his knife, he points it at the young man. “I don’t know who the fuck you are but get out of my way unless you want to die punk”. The knife waves in front of the young man’s face, a sight that usually has the citizens screaming themselves in fear, but he doesn’t react at all. In fact, it seems as if the sight of the knife is mildly amusing to him, the brief flash of emotion quickly disappearing behind those strangely dark eyes.

He doesn’t move for a second or two, just staring at the man in a strangely intimidating trance, and then a weary smile breaks out on his face as he finally speaks. “Thank you. This took me a lot longer than I had expected and I’m … I’m tired of having to do this. With what you know, I can finally stop.”

The weary finality of his words cause the man to break out in cold sweats. Finally overcoming his fear and trepidation, he decides to take the risk, lunging forward to stab the young man with the knife. Doc hates killing civilians but accepts them as a necessity on certain jobs. As long as he convinced him that there was no other option, he wouldn’t be punished.

Unfortunately for the man, the stab fails to connect, causing him to stumble onto the ground as his lunge just hits empty air. Before he has the chance to get back on his feet, a cold feeling envelops his entire body, originating from his lower spine. He tries to move his legs to get up but finds them unresponsive. His arms follow a similar pattern and then the cold feeling stretches over his entire body, blackness encroaching upon his vision. A feeling of sleepiness and exhaustion washes over him and he closes his eyes, never again to open them.

Dissipating the Mana Blade in the man’s spine, I collapse in the alley and lean against the wall, forcing myself to breath and reminding myself of the purpose of what I’m doing. My mother’s words pop into my mind again, just as they have with each of the dozens of people whose lives I’ve taken this night.

Everwall is being strangled by Doc and his ilk. The first step must be to purge them from the city. Be sure to get as much information from them as you can but that is the secondary objective. Freeing this city from organized crime and his shadowy influence is vital.

The words help me calm down, strengthening my resolve to go forward with the next step.

Glancing down at the two bodies in the alley, I take a deep breath. I thought killing Adrian would have prepared me for this but … I was wrong. There is a significant difference between killing someone who has wronged me personally versus people who are representations of possible future harm. These are not the mindless beasts of Helldarvin but thinking individuals, with lives and others who care about them. Intellectually I understand that they are profiting off of chaos and taking advantage of people, but it is one thing to know something and another to end someone’s life on the basis of that information.

I feel a stain upon my very soul, as if blood is soaking into my hands. A voice within me cries out for mercy, extolling the possibilities of redemption for these men and women. Each one is a complex individual, driven and compelled by different motivations. While some may be too far gone, others may be able to come back to the fold, it cries.

But I refuse to let it gain any control, grabbing it with my iron will and burying it within me until the whisper barely reaches me, becoming nothing more than a faint hint. This new world is not one of redemption and mercy. I hate that it has become so, but this new world is one of steadfast resolve and power. Without both, we are doomed to fail.

Looking down at the two bodies in the alley, I put my hand against the ground and begin pouring Earth Mana into it. It doesn’t take long before it has become saturated, allowing me to manipulate the dirt to open up and accept the bodies.

The sight of the ground opening up like a maw and consuming the body surprised me the first time I used it, but the actions of this night have dulled me to the sight. Normally I’d be more interested in the fact that this particular use of Mana didn’t result in the discovery of a Skill, opening up a whole host of questions regarding the Skill system, but that is the last thing on my mind right now.

Once the two bodies have been consumed by the ground and now rest multiple feet beneath the surface, I turn away from the alley and walk into the night. My destination is the building that the thief was thinking about when planning where he would meet Doc. This man was the first to actually have a destination in mind when thinking about Doc, although the face of his employer was conveniently absent from his mind.

Interestingly, I’ve found this to be the case with all of the criminals whose lives I’ve taken this night. None of them remember what Doc looks like, even inside of the very memories where they interact with him.

It is most likely some sort of forgetfulness Skill but it worries me. If it is based around an individuals Willpower, then I’ll most likely be able to resist it easily, my Attributes being much higher than anyone in Everwall. If it is based around something else … well luckily there’s a plan for that, even if I don’t like it.

It doesn’t take me very long to reach my destination, activating Fleet Feet of Air to sprint through the streets, becoming nothing more than a quick flash of motion in the light of the bright new stars. The guard paths are ever-present in my mind, allowing me to avoid them and reach the building within minutes.

A quick burst of Mana Infusion carries me into the air and onto the roof of the building, landing softly as my weight is diffused by the air around my feet. I peer through a skylight and see a solitary man inside the warehouse, reading a book by candlelight. He wears fine clothing, obviously expensive even before the change, but a dull woolen hood wraps around his shoulder and head, obscuring his face from this angle.

I take a deep breath and make my move.

Shattering the glass with a quick blow, I drop into the warehouse and roll behind the man. Behind the time dilation effects of Effortless Presence, I watch as the book begins to fall out of his hand. Before he has the chance to do anything, I quickly conjure up a Mana Blade against his throat and take a step back. The Blade rests against his throat, held up in the air by nothing but my will.

There are no sounds except for the two of us breathing and the occasional piece of glass falling from the ceiling and shattering on the floor. Despite the blade at his throat, the man, presumably Doc, appears relaxed, almost as if he believes he is still in complete control. His lack of fear puts me on edge. Either he believes that he has some way out of this situation, perhaps some sort of Skill he believes I’ll fall victim to, or he believes he has some way to talk himself out of this.

“Well played Cael. I am curious as to how you found my location though, I’d instructed my people to die before they spoke”. His voice carries out confidently as he speaks, a smooth and deep baritone that seems out of place in this situation.

“You know who I am?” I respond, not moving. An uneasy feeling is building within me. Why is this man so nonchalant about my appearance? The voice isn’t familiar to me but he appears to know who I am.

“Of course I do Cael. You think I wouldn’t know my opponents son? Mary has been a tempestuous thorn in my side and I’d hoped you’d be her weakness. I will concede, I was not pleased at that particular revelation.”

Reaching up with one hand, I grasp the top of the hood and rip it off, exposing the man’s face. A strong aquiline nose and a pronounced jaw-line become visible, along with the distinctive feature that gives away his identity. Amused grey eyes stare back at me from the face of Orrin Fisher, Elias’s father and the puppet master of apparently not only one, but two different factions within Everwall.

The connections between the two that had been troubling me since my first interaction with Adrian become eminently clear. He’d been working on ‘assignment’ for Elias but that had struck me as odd at the time, a detail that was forgotten in the frantic series of events that followed. In a city broken into three different factions, why do jobs for your competitor? Obviously it was because they were never actually working against each other, a secret leader pulling the strings of both groups from behind the scenes.

That, of course, still doesn’t explain why Orrin is so relaxed. With a Mana Blade held at his throat, the man should not be this calm. Taking a step behind him again, I grasp the conjured blade in my hand and press it deeper against his throat, slightly cutting the skin.

“Why the hell are you doing this? Why not just work with my mom to solve our problems?”

A laugh booms out, forcing me to pull the blade back slightly out of fear of cutting his jugular. “You’ve obviously never held real power Cael. Once you’ve tasted it, it becomes your lifeblood. I cannot concede to your mother as much as she cannot concede to me. We are power-hungry leaders in a small city, destined to conflict until one of us removes the other. And with that, I must tell you something. RELEASE ME”.

His voice changes as he finishes, becoming deeper and more commanding. More than this, it becomes all-powerful, a voice of an angry god that expects his will to be obeyed. A feeling of pressure buckles down around me, pushing into my mind to try and carry out his orders. All sight, all sound, all other thoughts are lost to me as the command becomes all I can even think about.

Fortunately for me, and unfortunately for Orrin, this command pales in comparison to the training of Albasalas. Her mind had ravaged mine, building me up stronger and stronger with each iteration, until I was finally able to resist beings far beyond the capabilities of the man in front of me.

I fall into myself as I gather my Will together, ironing out all the weaknesses and slowly expanding outwards. All traces of the command are destroyed upon contact with my defenses, disintegrating into nothingness. In what feels like minutes, as my perception of time within my mental space flows at the speed of thought, but is most likely seconds, I purge myself of the command and grasp the blade even tighter against his throat. In preparation of another attempt, I keep my mental barriers at their full defense, a strenuous activity that will result in terrible headaches but is absolutely necessary.

Grasping the blade against his jugular, I whisper, “That isn’t going to work against me. Now, the answer to your next question is going to determine whether this will be painful or painless. Who else has been helping you undermine my parents?”

Woken by the booming noises coming from his front door, Elias stumbles around in the dark until he’s able to find his crank lantern. While once a common sight around a campground, this tool now symbolizes his wealth, his ability to create light without relying on the smelly candles that the city had become dependent upon. Of course, if Elias had his way, that wouldn’t last for very long. Candles are an inefficient way creating light and, now that one of the citizens managed to get the ‘Technocrat’ Class, he had plans to return lighting to Everwall.

All of this flashes through his mind as he makes his way down the stairs toward the booming noise. His father had always accused him of having a wandering mind but Elias had always known that it was a boon, not a hindrance. His ability to think exceedingly quickly, even with the tendency to occasionally get lost in future plans, had helped the Fishers gain back a modicum of control after his father had lost it.

Now, however, is not the time for planning. Grabbing an antique crossbow from the mantle, another display of his wealth, he calls out to the door. “Who the hell’s there? Speak now or get a bolt to the face.”

The booming stops for a second and then a weary voice speaks calmly. “It’s Cael. We need to speak.”

He thinks for a split second, finally remembering that Cael is the name of Mary King’s kid, the strangely silent boy who had been present during the meeting with Octavian. He had apparently come back to the city two days ago and declared himself a contestant in the Primus Trials. While it was slightly surprising that he possessed the necessary Skills and Level, he most likely was able to achieve his rank due to help from his parents.

Not worried, Elias leans the crossbow against his shoulder, calling out arrogantly, “Come back tomorrow. It’s late and I’m going back to sleep kid.”

Turning around, Elias begins to walk back up the stairs to his bedroom when a wave of force washes over him like waves upon the beach. A splinter of wood flies over his shoulder, impaling itself into the stairs, and he turns around in surprise, discovering a scene of horror in front of his eyes.

The door to his house is completely destroyed, somehow blown inwards by Cael. Instead of his previous meek appearance, confidence oozes out of him as he walks into the house, ignoring the shattered door and splinters of wood scattered all over the living room. His eyes bore into Elias, making him feel like a lesser being finally gaining sight of a vengeful god.

It takes him a few seconds, but Elias is finally able to regain control of himself, feeling indignation at the way his house had been treated by this kid. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You think you are just going to get away with this?”

To Elias’s surprise, Cael walks over and sits down on his comfortable leather chair, the brown material creaking and molding itself around its new occupant. His eyes gently wander over the entire room as he responds, a soft voice carrying a new weight. It seems … exhausted, tired, but undeniable.

“Did you know that your father was Doc?”

On the stairs, completely confused by the situation, Elias forgets everything that has happened as anger floods into him. Who is this kid, this little scrawny bastard, to come into his home and accuse his father of that?

His temper takes control as he responds, lugging the crossbow back up onto his shoulder. “Who the fuck do you think you are? My father is a great man, not some criminal lurking in the shadows. If you don’t take that back I’m going to make sure you don’t ever say that again. Let’s see how well you’ll be able to speak with an arrow in your throat.”

Cael just watches in tired amusement. Then, to his complete and utter surprise, fire begins to form around Cael’s head, dozens of flames forming and gently hanging in the air. The crossbow falls from his hands as he realizes the destructive potential of the flame. Elias may be many things, but an idiot isn’t one of them. Before he can speak, Cael responds.

“Here’s the deal Elias. I believe that you had no idea your father was Doc. He had a Skill that allowed him to manipulate others and I believed he used it upon you, as well as everyone he came into contact with. Unfortunately for you, I’m not the person you need to convince. That responsibility lies with my mother. But there is a silver lining if you’re willing to look for it. Are you?”

Elias is barely able to respond, nodding his head as the flames begin to drift around the living room and closer towards him. The heat becomes unbearable as they get closer, sweat dripping down his face and soaking his pajamas.

“Good. You’re a smart man Elias, and I want you to help run this city. You understand business and I think you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. If I put in a good word for you, then you’ll probably be able to maintain some power in this city and hopefully help us win the Primus Trials. That is the carrot.”

Cael’s face appears to darken as he finishes, his words adopting a deeper gravitas and becoming infused with an iron will. Despite his tired appearance and exhausted demeanor, the young man looks as if he could kill with a snap of his fingers.

“Now, if you decide not to help us, then your options are far more limited. In fact, if you chose anything other than leaving this city and never coming back, then you wouldn’t make it more than one step. That is the stick.”

The killing demeanor disappears in an instant, replaced by weariness. “From one son of powerful people to another; don’t let the mistakes of your parents control your future. Your father was so angry about losing power that he would rather see it descend into crime than see my mother at the helm. We can be better than them or we can lie in nameless graves, another casualty of this new world. Your choice.”

A thousand and one thoughts fly through Elias’s mind as Cael waits for his response. It’s obvious to him that his father is dead, most likely killed because, supposedly, he was Doc. While he isn’t entirely convinced, it doesn’t particularly surprise Elias. His father had always been a vengeful and petty man, given to bouts of anger and rage over the smallest perceived slight. It had made growing up in his household an absolute nightmare, but had also given Elias insight into the inner workings of the powerful. His strongest belief was that, no matter what public persona they adopted, everyone had a flaw that could be exploited.

With that thought in mind, he looks at Cael and finally recognizes him as the powerful individual he is. His entrance into the Primus Trials obviously wasn’t a mistake, but that didn’t make him an omnipotent and omniscient individual. Elias could work with him for now, preserving his own life in the process, and decide how to handle his father’s death later. Better to bury any anger deep and live to fight another day.

Meeting his eyes, Elias responds. “I choose the carrot”.

A few hours later, I stare at the horizon as the sun begins to rise, blooming with color and beauty. The night sky is washed away, replaced with the beauty and light of day in an endless cycle of death and rebirth.

I, however, feel nothing but exhaustion, the weight of the lives I’ve taken sitting heavily upon my soul. It was the right decision but that doesn’t clean away the stain upon my soul. The lives of dozen of individuals are now over, their lives ended by my judicious actions.

Sorrow begins to rise up within me, threatening to overwhelm me, when I see a sight that will stay with me till the day I die. This single image manages to calm down the sorrow and allows me to accept my own tarnished soul.

Climbing upon the tree down below the balcony I stand upon is Lily, the young girl I met on my first day in Everwall. A beautiful smile graces her face as she jumps between the branches; a childish giggle escapes as she tumbles to the ground, laughing at the fun. Her mother stands to the side, glancing nervously at the guards that have let them in, but she smiles with her daughter, encouraging her to climb back up into the tree before the work day begins.

I do this for them. For the average person who just wants to live their life, who wants to raise their children in a world where they don’t need to fight for their life every single day.

My worry and exhaustion melting away, I walk into the bedroom and fall upon the bed, letting the land of sleep finally claim me. I’ve got four more days before the First Trial and I plan on spending every other minute making sure that I’ll be able to protect the people within Everwall.