Jeremy stood in front of the house, Old Betty in one hand and bowie knife in the other.

Every other house in the area had been cleared. After leaving this house five days ago, he had warned all citizens of Carscott to stay away for their own safety. Of course it was for their safety -- why else would Jeremy, the man who killed a dire bear alone with only his knife, refuse to let others enter? Everyone feared him and his new power, even the monsters.

It couldn't be that Jeremy, new leader of the recovering Fort Carscott, was actually scared of what waited inside.

No, Jeremy refused to even consider that possibility. But his shaking hands and the sweat dripping into his eyes belied the lie he told himself.

Jeremy clenched his hands around his weapons, closing his eyes. He hated how he had felt the last time he was in this building. It reminded him of when he had stood before the judge, his ex-wife spewing lies. Weak. Powerless. Afraid.

But that was the old Jeremy. He was much stronger now than he had been the first time he entered the house, and he wouldn't allow himself to run again. He was the one the monsters should fear.

He walked up to the house, his pace steady, and stepped through the doorway into the darkness.

- Jeremy of Carscott, Inclusion +7 days 05:17 hours

The chamber is no longer empty. Five Alatir stand in a line in front of us, each twice as large as Sam, the tops of their heads probably the same height as myself. Only their large yellow eyes move, bouncing back and forth across the three of us. The rest of their bodies are as still as statues.

"The Alatir council of New Colony Seven dash Nineteen greets you, as well as this humble diplomat," my voice sounds out again. Looking to the origin of the sound, I see a sixth Alatir, this one of a comparable size to Sam and easily overshadowed by the five others.

There is silence following the Alatir's statement. Do they want us to do something?

"...hello," I finally say. As their silence continues, Pallas speaks as well.

"Hello."

Melete just waves her right hand in greeting. When there still is no response, she lifts her other hand to point to the still waving hand. "That means hey," she says.

Finally, the Alatir diplomat speaks again, but this time with Melete’s voice. "I have translated your greetings for the council, and will continue to act as translator as these proceedings continue."

"What are these 'proceedings'?" I ask. "Why did you bring us here."

"I apologize. I was under the assumption that Diplomat Three dash Two conveyed this information to you. You are here to determine the suitability of an alliance between Alatir and humanity," the diplomat replies with my voice.

"Yeah, yeah, that tells us jack squat though. What could we possibly do for you to prove humanity is 'suitable,' or whatever? We're just high-school students," Melete says.

"Wha-" her voice begins from the Alatir, but I cut it off.

"What she means," I say, giving Melete a small glare, "is that we are not entirely sure what is expected of us." The last thing we need is for the Alatir council to not find us useful.

A minute of silence is their response, but I wait patiently. The eyes of the council are directed to the diplomat, who is looking back at the different council members, so I assume it is relaying our question. Melete opens her mouth to speak, but I squeeze her hand, hard, before she says anything. She glares at me, thankfully in silence, but I ignore her.

Finally, the diplomat speaks, this time with my voice. "There are several reasons an alliance with humanity would be beneficial for the Alatir. First, your sapience. Those creatures which are not sapient are the natural enemies of both humanity and the Alatir. An alliance between us against these species would serve both of our interests. Second, this is your homeworld. You have a natural advantage on this planet. You know and have explored this world far beyond any other creature which has been here only since the inclusion. The Alatir would like to share in the advantage that this knowledge creates. And finally, population. As the native species of this world, you naturally have a far greater population than any other creature. Despite your weak Numbers, the Alatir do not wish to antagonize so populous of an enemy. Even the strongest of creatures cannot compete against the combined might of millions."

"...okay," I finally say when I realize it is done speaking. "But what does that have to do with us?"

"Humanity has much to offer. However, it is not clear if humanity is capable of offering it -- at least in a manner worth the risk for the Alatir," the diplomat responds. "Is humanity capable of cooperation and loyalty to an alliance? Is the power of humanity enough to prove it worthwhile? After all, a large population, if not united, is no threat at all. For answers to these, the council must see humans for themselves, must know your nature firsthand. And that is why you are here."

"Um, okay. Well, if you ask me, I think we're able to be loyal and helpful. And we've survived this long, so we're obviously strong," I say. I'm still not entirely sure where the Alatir council is going with this. Hearing the diplomat speak with my voice certainly isn't helping my focus though.

"Yes, but the report from Diplomat Three dash Two said that humanity's base Numbers are all zero…is this correct?"

I glance to my left and right at Pallas and Melete, my hands still clasped in their own. In any other situation, I'd find it awkward to hold hands with them for so long, but in this case I draw comfort and confidence from their grips. "If what you mean by 'base Numbers' is what we're born with, then yes, that's correct."

There's a moment of silence following this statement, and I notice one of the legs of the Alatir council twitch.

"And how often can humans reproduce? And how many offspring do they typically have over a lifetime?" the diplomat asks.

"Um, once every year, max, I think, and average is about two to three in a lifetime, although I've heard as much as ten or more. Oh, and that's per couple of people, not individually," I add the last part when I remember Sam mentioning the Alatir don't reproduce sexually.

We wait in silence for the diplomat to respond. Once again it seems to communicate with the council before its next question.

"Diplomat Three dash Two also reported that you had at least two skills between you?"

In response, I let go of the hands of my friends and roll up the sleeve of my right arm, displaying my two tattoos for them to see. As I make my skill tattoos visible to the council it's as if a wave hits them, their legs twitching in what I presume is surprise.

"Anything else you want to know?" I ask. Despite having at least one skill of his own, Sam always seemed unusually impressed by our skills. Hopefully the Alatir leaders are having the same response.

The wait that follows the revealing of my skills is the longest yet. Eventually, I roll my sleeve down and link my hands back with my friends. Beyond being encouraged by their touch, I don't want to give them a chance to separate us if at all possible.

Finally, the eyes of the council and diplomat return to us.

"We are impressed, and the council believes that an alliance is likely possible. However, we know that words and skills do not always line up with actions."

"And what exactly does that mean? Are you calling us liars?!" Melete yells out.

The diplomat turns its eye to her, responding with her voice. "No. But we do require a demonstration to verify your qualifications." As it speaks, a small round section of the wall off to our right slides upward, accompanied by a quiet grinding noise. From the shadows of the tunnel a clawed paw steps. A paw I recognize. "Defeat your enemy."

The dog monster, identical to the first monster I ever defeated, walks into the chamber with a dazed look in its eye. But as the Alatir finishes its sentence, its eyes clear and it shakes its head. Ignoring the presence of the six Alatir in front of us, it stares at us and snarls.

I let go of my friends' hands and pull my machete from its sheath. Melete pulls out her own knives, while Pallas grabs the rifle slung over his shoulder and holds it ready, pointed at the ground.

"Melete," I whisper. When she's looking at me, I flash the symbol for 'stop' with my left fist over my right arm, just above where my skill tattoos would be visible if my sleeve were pulled up. It takes a second, but then understanding dawns on her face. She looks at me in doubt. I change the sign to one of 'wait,' and she finally nods.

The dog monster takes one step towards us, teeth bared. I glance at Pallas. He looks at me for a split second before lifting the rifle to his shoulder, staring down the sights. A second later he pulls the trigger and a loud bang echoes through the chamber.

The dog monster jumps back in surprise, but then lowers itself into a crouch and runs forward. Pallas missed.

Pallas doesn't have time for another shot before the monster is on us. I step forward and swing out with my machete, making contact with the side of the attacking dog monster.

It's knocked to the ground, bleeding from a large gash on its side. In a flash, Melete is on top of the downed monster, knives flashing. A few seconds later and she's back up, blood dripping from her knives and a feral smile on her face.

I feel a rush as the Number on my palm reforms. But for some reason, it feels…strange. I struggle to place the difference for a moment, but then ignore it as the Alatir diplomat speaks.

"Well done, but that was a simple test to ensure you are aware of the stakes. We will test your true capabilities next." The yellow eye of the Alatir turns to Pallas. "I would also caution against reliance on any projectile weaponry, especially more complicated weaponry. While it may be useful for survival now, dependence will cause your eventual death."

Pallas simply glares at the Alatir in response, not relaxing his hold on the firearm in the slightest. Melete lifts one of her hands in the direction of the Alatir, a single finger lifted to form a symbol we never agreed upon but is still recognizable. I hear a quiet grinding from my right, and turn to see another door appearing in the previously empty wall.

"Get ready," I whisper, and Pallas and Melete refocus their attention on the immediate threat. As much as I want to get angry at the Alatir council for this insane 'trial,' survival comes first.

"Defeat your enemy," the Alatir diplomat says with my voice.

From the tunnel a new monster walks. This one looks similar to a bear, even down to the thick brown fur, but is larger even than the polar bear I had once seen at the zoo. At least six feet tall when walking on all fours, I'm scared to imagine how big it is when upright.

The monster's eyes are glazed and not yet directed towards us, but Pallas doesn't hesitate, bringing the rifle to his shoulder and firing once, twice, three times. The bear monster steps back and ducks its head, red blood appearing on its shoulder and neck where it is hit. I dash forward with Melete, careful to stay out of Pallas' firing line. I can hear the pop of the rifle behind me as Pallas continues to shoot.

The monster's head is still lowered when I get to it, shielding its face from Pallas' fire, and I take advantage of its lack of visibility by stabbing quickly with my machete. The monster reacts by leaning away from the blade and swinging one of its giant paws in my direction. I step back, gaining a few feet of distance, while Melete dashes forward from the other side to poke the wounded beast.

The bear monster swings its paw towards the most recent attack each time, but it's much too slow to catch either me or Melete. I keep waiting for it to charge us or Pallas, but it seems hesitant to commit to anything more than the occasional swipe.

The strange feeling from before returns even stronger as we continue to prod the monster. The battle feels in some ways surreal, almost as if I am dreaming rather than fighting a living breathing monster. I try to analyze the feeling as I continue to dash back and forth, as there's a pause in the gunfire while Pallas loads a new magazine.

Eventually, the monster goes down, either refusing or incapable of committing to an all-or-nothing attack, dying slowly from dozens of small wounds. I feel another rush as the Number on my palm reforms, once again disquietly…different. I'm starting to have a suspicion of what might be going on.

"Well done!" My voice rings out from the direction of the Alatir diplomat. I just frown in its direction. "For the next trial, you will actually have some assistance. This species is an ally of the Alatir, and if an alliance between Alatir and humanity can be formed, they will also be your ally. Can you work together in this next battle?" My frown deepens and is joined by Melete and Pallas' own frowns as a new door opens, revealing a strange, crab-like thing.

It is about the same size as Sam, so smaller than me or the Alatir council, but still fearsome. It has a dark green shell, at least a dozen legs, and two giant claws on either side of its body. It scuttles in our direction, stopping a few feet away. Melete and I have our bloody blades raised, and Pallas is tracking the new creature with his gun. Once again, something about this new creature just seems…wrong.

"This next trial is the most difficult so far," the Alatir diplomat says with my voice as the council looks on with impassive yellow eyes. "You will need to work together to succeed." A slow grinding can be heard as a new door starts to rise. How many of these hidden doors are there anyway? "Defeat your enemy."

I narrow my eyes. Enough of this. Before the new door can fully open, I glance to my left and right, making eye contact with my friends. They must see something in my gaze, because Pallas nods while Melete’s frown changes to a smile.

I activate my skill and painfully slowly grow a thick layer of skin over my ears. Looking Melete in the eye, I lift my left hand back over my skill tattoos and flash a new sign, the sign for 'attack.'

Melete’s smile transforms into something truly terrifying, and she starts to sing.

S: 148

D:144

W: 321

I: 102

C: 100

?

Skills: Adjust:Self, Bond:Mental