A single entry from the logs of Uriel the Watcher

My brothers don't seem to have the same worries as me, the same existential doubts as to our purpose. Why do we do what we do? Is it a holy mission? A simple job? We divine our purposes from 'signs' and yet never doubt their authenticity. However, this thought doesn't bother me as much as it once did. I enjoy the Watch and that is all I need.

You have selected the Class ‘Remnant of a Lost Universe’ (R-9). Impose your will upon your new Universe by using the rules of the old. Class Benefit: All ‘Physics’ based Skills are improved. Increased learning rate for ‘Physics’ based Higher Energies and above.

I let out a sigh of exhaustion, leaning my head back against the alley wall and looking up at the sky above. Little slivers of blue are able to break through the cover of the clouds like cracks in the ice of a frozen lake. They disappear in seconds and then reappear in new places, following some strange arcane pattern of perpetual motion.

The alley is covered in a light dew from the rain but I ignore it, eyes unfocused as I consider the massive choice that I just made. All three options were incredibly interesting, but I’d been drawn to Remnant for its potential power in the long term, as well as its synergy with my current set of Skills. The connection to the old universe was just another plus, serving as a tether to a time when I was just as powerless as everyone else. But, if I’m honest with myself, the most important reason was based around one aspect; fascination. Being able to mess around with the fundamental building blocks of the old universe filled me with curiosity that I knew would eat me alive if I picked any of the other choices.

Mana Constructs sounded fascinating, especially given the possibility of creating artificial intelligence, but the Class didn’t seem particularly combat-focused, which was a necessity at this point in the competition. Meanwhile, Mind of Mana seemed to only really focus on my Telepathic capabilities, a road I was interested in, but not as committed to when compared to my Mana Skills.

Dispelling any worry about my Class choice from my mind, not wanting to dwell on something that can no longer be changed, I find myself considering the implications of being a ‘Remnant’. If I’m able to learn and create physics based Skills at a higher rate, what Higher Energy should I focus on next? If I’m being honest with myself, I hadn’t really been considering physics when I created both Motion and Sound. My thoughts had been on utility, on giving me access to Skills and abilities that would help me survive both on and off the battlefield.

Perhaps my next one should be focused purely on combat capabilities then … I’d found myself relying heavily on Mana Blade and Mana Bullet in my last few encounters, as their powerful destructive capabilities were matched with a somewhat low Mana cost. Some of the Elemental Mana Skills were useful, but they tend to be more specialized in function, fitting a niche role that only becomes useful in a specific set of circumstances. What I really need is access to some sort of Higher Energy that allows me to create new attacking Skills that will be useful across a large variety of different combat situations.

Now, however, is not the time for training. Standing up and stretching my sore body, I head back to the manor. We’ve got one month before the next Trial and I want to get started as soon as possible, though it will have to wait until after I’ve taken a nap.

Alejandro stares at the baseball sized piece of purple metal in his hands, spinning it around and looking for impurities. It had taken him a few days to break down the material into usable pieces, but he wanted to review it one more time, looking for any potential flaws that could result in his death. He was many things, but impulsive was not one of them.

Finally convinced that he’d found the best option from among the usable pieces, he places the metal down on the table and stands up, stretching his back and letting out a sigh of contentment at the sound of it cracking. At roughly 5’6”, Alejandro isn’t a tall man, but what he lacks in vertical size is more than made up for in density. Corded muscles ripple along his arms, gained from years spent on fishing boats, and his legs are as thick as tree trunks. A shaved head accompanies his thick body, giving him the appearance of someone who focused exclusively on his body.

That couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Cracking his neck once more, he picks up the purple metal and carefully carries it over to the makeshift windmill that he’d built. While the model is too small for practical use, it is perfect for his current tests.

Connecting a series of wires to the purple metal, he begins to spin the windmill by hand, creating a small stream of consistent energy. Barely enough to power even the smallest appliance, he keeps the windmill spinning for ten minutes before he stops, disconnecting everything and placing the metal back on his table.

Alejandro waits another hour before taking the next step in the experiment, passing the time by doing physical exercise within the constraints of his miniscule shack. This particular habit of working out any time he was bored or stressed was one of the explanations for his muscular body.

As soon as the hour of waiting is over, he stops exercising and pulls out a series of cables that connect to a radio. Taking a deep breath, he sets up the appropriate safeguards to help ensure his building doesn’t explode. The metal is placed in a makeshift containment chamber, lined with metal scavenged from the decrepit buildings, and the wires run through a second connection point to lessen the chance of significant overload.

Not seeing them, he puts his hands back down by his side and rushes over to the radio, flipping a few of the switches and altering the wire arrangement while muttering to himself. After a few moments of frantic alteration, the radio stutters to life, the familiar sound of static filling the small shack.

Alejandro falls back onto his chair, the single piece of furniture in his shack, and stares at the sight in front of him in complete shock. His mind races ahead, already imagining all of the possible uses for this discovery and how it could be used to improve Everwall.

It’s then that he hears a knock on his door, interrupting his imagination and bringing him back into the real world. Quickly disconnecting the radio wires from the strange metal, he composes himself for a few seconds, ignoring the notifications that inform him of his Skill increases. His Class’s Skills were interesting, but he disliked their hand-holding nature, preferring the chaotic landscape of pure experimentation to the step by step improvement offered by increasing Skill levels.

Opening the door to his shack, he finds himself in front of a tall young man. While his appearance is similar to so many others in the city, gaunt features and sunken eyes becoming the new norm, the young man’s eyes burn with an intensity that Alejandro has rarely ever seen. He carries himself with a subtle confidence, almost bordering on arrogance, which sets Alejandro’s teeth on edge. This man was either an arrogant pendejo or someone with enough clout to back up the attitude.

“Are you Alejandro Lopez, the Technocrat?” the young man asks, his eyes looking over his shoulder to stare into the little shack. To Alejandro’s surprise, his eyes seem to light up at the sight of the windmill, a reaction that raises his opinion of the interloper by a marginal amount.

“Si. You?” he responds, crossing his arms in a somewhat intimidating gesture. He’d never enjoyed interacting with others, part of the reason he’d ended up in the fishing business where it was just him and the endless water, and this new world hadn’t done anything to change that. To Alejandro, people were secondary to his contraptions and inventions. When a machine broke down, there was an obvious reason that could be fixed. People, on the other hand, were just too complex. This young man was the perfect example. He obviously wanted something, and Alejandro had no intentions of going along with it.

“My name is Cael King. I was hoping you’d be able to help me.” the young man responds calmly.

Alejandro nearly falls over in surprise, placing his hand on the doorframe to balance himself. To think, he’d been trying to intimidate Everwall’s defender, the man who had selflessly taken on three invaders and repelled them all single-handedly. Not only was this man a hero, but he could also kill him without a second thought. The fact that he wasn’t lording his power over others was another good mark in his Alejandro’s book.

There were those who had spoken out against him, claiming he was just another randomly selected intent on doing them harm, but Alejandro ignored those fools. He’d had too many stereotypes put on him during his life and he’d long ago given up on believing any of them.

Regaining control of himself, Alejandro softens his usually harsh features and responds. "And? ”

The young man smiles sheepishly and raises a hand to scratch the back of his head as he responds. “I’m putting together a little group and I’d like you to join me. I think you could prove invaluable.”

Stepping to the side, Alejandro gestures inside to his little shack. “Come in.”

It takes me a few hours to convince Alejandro but he finally concedes, agreeing to join my team in a support role for the time being. I’d been expecting him to outright deny me, so managing to recruit the city’s only ‘Technocrat’ is a victory.

It’s been two days since the completion of the First Trial, and the city is starting to develop some sense of normalcy again. With the specter of imminent invasion finally removed, the people are beginning to loosen up, falling back into old habits. Children run through the streets kicking balls around, guards wander the streets keeping an eye out for tense situations, workers handle new construction and clean up the debris from the change, and people walk around with a more positive outlook on life. The only significant difference from before the First Trial is how people look at me.

My announcement and speech obviously helped me gather some goodwill within the city, as a few people nod their heads in gratitude to me as I pass them on the street. Others treat me like any other person, acknowledging my existence but not making friendly gestures. It is the final group, those that look at me with fear and loathing in their eyes, which upsets me. I’d known that I wouldn’t be able to convince everyone within Everwall, but understanding a situation and being confronted with it are two entirely different things.

Watching as a mother pulls her child to the opposite side of a street from me is a heart-wrenching experience. Everything I’ve done for Everwall has been to protect its people, and still some remain rooted in fear. Perhaps that is better than the alternative, though. Better to have a minority be afraid than have the majority be angry.

Trying to ignore the few looks of fear, I make my way towards my second destination. With Alejandro recruited, I only need two more people to make up my team. The memory of my meeting with Octavian, only the day before, regarding the Trial of Leadership pops into my head.

Having seemingly regained his boisterous gait, he strolls through the manor door as if he owns the place, wearing his now familiar grey uniform that emphasizes his blue skin. His hand holds yet another apple and he takes bites of it as he sits down on a couch, sighing to himself in exaggerated contentment.

Sitting down on a chair opposite him, I put my elbows on my knees and lean forward to stare at him. I have no intention of letting him dictate and control this situation as he has so many before it.

He seems to pick up on my feelings, as he leans back against the couch and a large smile breaks out on his face. “Before we begin, let me just say that you did a fantastic job against those Ungutarri. Those brutes were some of the more difficult invaders, and you handled them suitably. Well, I say suitably, but I only really mean it in the context of not dying. So, in that regards, fantastic job.”

I can’t help myself, letting out a little laugh at his joke. Despite being one of the most annoying people I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting, Octavian can also be amusing in his own way.

Shaking my head while holding back a laugh, I respond. “I actually wanted to talk to you about the Trial of Leadership. I believe you owe me some information.”

“Oh, do I now? I had no idea.” He replies, stretching his arms over the back of the couch as if getting more comfortable.

Despite my earlier amusement, I feel frustration beginning to build up. This is the Octavian I’ve come to know, the one who makes obtaining any piece of information as difficult as pulling out a tooth. “Stop with the façade, Octavian. We both know you’re going to give me any information you have. You want someone from Everwall to become Primus and I need your information to succeed.”

His face morphing into a pout, he harrumphs loudly. After a few moments of exaggerated disregard, he drops the act and gets down to business. “Firstly, I have to let you know that I’m a bit surprised that Earth got this particular Trial.”

“Why?”

“Because my people have only ever seen this Trial on a few other worlds. All of those were deeply communal planets, ones where the society thrives or dies together. I’ve only been on Earth for a little while, but what I’ve seen is not exactly indicative of a civilization that could ever be described as ‘communal’.” His voice becomes a bit disdainful, making me consider the implications. Is the Empire of Sol Invictus a communal society and he looks down upon humans for not being the same, or is it a deeply individualistic society and he looks down upon the very concept of communal civilizations? I shake the thought out of my mind after a moment. Not important right now.

“Rarity aside, what is the actual Trial?”

“Patience, Cael. I’m getting there. From what we’ve seen in the past, the Trial revolves around a group of four contestants, one of whom is the Primus Candidate. The four of you will be given some sort of task and expected to complete it. The tasks can be anything from retrieving something to fighting against another city. The only unifying aspect of the Trial is that it involves a group of four with the Candidate as the leader.”

I digest this information for a few moments. Obviously I need to assemble a small team that can accomplish a breadth of different tasks. My skill set is quite flexible, but it doesn’t cover everything, which means I should look for people with drastically different capabilities. Some of the citizens with Classes, perhaps. Maybe even take someone without a Class and start training them, leading them towards a more powerful option that they wouldn’t normally receive.

My memory of the meeting is interrupted as I arrive at the guard’s training grounds. A large building with a tile roof, recently repaired of all damage from the change, rises high above a five foot wall, a physical representation of the looming presence of the guards. Tan walls hold up the three story building, one of the tallest within the city, and a slight haze rises into the air just north of it. Beneath the haze lies a large open space filled with sand, a makeshift training field.

The sounds of physical exertion make their way over the wall as I head towards the gate, walking through to find dozens of trainees spread out over the sands. My success in the First Trial apparently inspired a host of young men and women to enroll with the guards, all of them hoping to one day be able to defend their city. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about their motivations, as some of them look at me with open admiration and others with uncomfortable anger, but the outcome is a net positive.

The dust of distributed sand rises into the air, rubbing uncomfortably against my skin, and I walk to an outcrop in the main building, the only covered area in the entire training field. Grabbing myself a cup of water from a barrel filled with the liquid, I watch a single trainee get relentlessly knocked down over and over. Despite his consistent defeat, he refuses to surrender.

I’d refused to concede on not recruiting the young boy with the ‘Son of Mischief’ Class, a point of contention between my father and I, so he had recommended this young man when I’d mentioned my interest in training someone. At only seventeen years of age, I’m reluctant to make my offer to this teenager, but my father’s advice sticks in my head.

I’ve never met anyone as determined as him. He’s the first one at the fields in the morning, and the last one to leave at night. If you’re looking for a blank slate to train and mold, you won’t find anyone else better than Hakim.

Trying to squash the whispers of doubt, I signal to the training leader and he sends Hakim over to me. Despite our small age difference, only a little over three years due to the time difference of Helldarvin, I can’t think of him as anything other than a teenager. He makes it over to me and his eyes widen as if in recognition.

“You’re Cael King, aren’t you?” his voice is tinged with admiration and a hint of awe. It makes me feel uncomfortable, but I hide my discomfort with a nod, feeling obligated to try and not disappoint this kid.

“Yep, that’s me. Your name is Hakim, right?” I ask, knowing full well that it is.

He nods his head, seeming too awestruck to answer. The silence carries for a few seconds, and as I realize he’s not going to respond further, I begin my sales pitch. “I’m looking for people to help me with the next Trial, and my father recommended you. I know you don’t have a Class and that you’re only Lvl 8, so you don’t need to worry about that. What I’m looking for is someone who is willing to train underneath me. Someone who can survive what I am going to throw at them and thrive. If I’m being honest with you, I’m basically looking for someone who wants power enough that they are willing to put up with a month of living hell.”

The second I finish, he claps his hands together. “I’m in. Whatever you need me to do, I’m your guy.”

That … was easier than I expected.

I clarify what I mean, telling him about the training and what it will entail and Hakim remains adamant through the entire thing, accepting the risks and still wanting it. Giving him instructions on where to meet me tomorrow morning, I leave the building and start heading back to the manor.

Two down, one to go.