Five figures sat in a circle atop a plateau. The plateau was a freshly crafted arrangement from one of the rolling hills that seemed to ebb and flow across the landscape. This one had once contained a lightning-struck anpivia tree. This tree would have been optimal for crafters, to various systems, but most importantly to the Environ. Feeding a tree with the innate ability to contain and control the flow of lightning would be a godsend to any Environ with an electricity based Spore.

An anpivia tree had a natural affinity to controlling the mana, nectar, ages, dark matter, or whatever the individual races called the substance. Some even had different inherently “magical” substances that were roughly lumped into what the Reforms called mana. When one had prolonged exposure to a particular element, it would take that natural affinity and use it to control that element. For example, typically anpivia would gain the earth element, and use it to form walls, defenses, and traps to protect itself. It was one of the few plants that sapient beings deemed as sentient.

So when an anpivia was struck by lightning, it would take on those properties. Granted, only if it was consecutively struck. The lone tree that once stood upon a tiny hill was a rare case. A case that had an infinitesimally small chance of occurring on Start once more. The tree was able to form tendrils of electricity —resembling a jellyfish— to protect itself.

Sadly, the day it met Justinia, it did not even have the chance for self defense. Its root network was cut in half seamlessly. At least, it was too small of a seam for the anpivia to notice. It was then pushed off of its peak with little preamble. Pushed with enough force to keep it and half of the hill that was once its home off of the ground for a few seconds. It landed in the distance, out of the line of sight. Its story was one for a later day.

None of the three adventurers, nor the two faction members noticed the natural wonder that the dark haired woman had summarily evicted from the premises. No, two adventurers instead came to the realization that they were dancing in the hands of an angry god. The other wanted to fight the god. The blue-haired faction member was considering if she could use the sound waves from the decapitated half of the mountain for long distance travel. All important thoughts.

Khalil stared at the dried beef in his hand questioning every single choice in his life that brought him to this moment. At first, the task the Mayor had given him seemed plausible. As Meagan had fought the Janus, it became difficult. Currently, it seemed like a death sentence. Did their party do something to offend the Mayor? Had Jenny, one night after visiting the tavern, stepped on Sam Colon’s shoe? What could have landed him in this predicament?

“Are you gonna eat that, or not?” Justine called from across the circle.

“No. I don’t believe I have much of an appetite,” He responded.

“Then toss it over here. I have had nothing but Orthodox rations for months now. Do you want highly nutritious flavored air? That's what I thought!”

“Justine! We aren’t supposed to mention we are from a faction!” Meagan protested.

“Yeah yeah. It’s not like they don't know. By this point I would be surprised if they haven’t seen our tell,” Justine waved away her friend’s worries.

“So you both are really from the Faction of the Mind?” Khalil spoke up. When his only response was an open palm, he reluctantly parted with his jerky.

“How did you know we were from the Faction of the Mind? I didn’t think the Reforms were familiar with our symbols. Did someone tell you?” Meagan was bright and cheerful in her questioning, perhaps that was why Khalil was so nervous. Her tone of voice made it seem like she was playing around, but it actually felt like he was being toyed with.

“No, I caught a glance of it during your sparring sessions with Darryn, the Faction of the Mind is quite infamous afterall. I am uncertain about the other symbols, but everyone can recognize the ‘tower watching over the city’.” Khalil fibbed. At Meagan’s seemingly disinterested response, Jenny decided to ask a question of her own.

“Is your symbol really modeled after your city?”

“No, our city was modeled after the symbol. I actually think Lan—ahem the matriarch’s home reef had the same principles. So when the Selection took place, she knew immediately what she wanted,” Meagan explained as Justine was busy gnawing on the tough meat.

“There have been rumors, and I’m sure there are books on it, but what does the symbol mean?” Khalil asked, trying his best to not offend. Meagan looked to Justine, who gave a barely perceptible nod. This was nothing that the faction kept hidden. They were proud of their symbol.

“Well, the study of the mind is an interesting one. As you undoubtedly know, factions need to develop as a group. We need to discover, explore, or fulfill the definition of our faction to progress. Fighting is relatively useless for us. In terms of the mind, it is a hard thing to study in depth. One avenue is the control of the senses, eventually leading to amplification. Another is psychology, knowing your mind well enough to bend it ever so gently to your will. The final path, what the core of the faction strives to, is Mind over Body.

“The tower represents the mind, and in reality, is where the most research occurs. It watches over the city, not only to show its importance as being over the body —what the city resembles— but also to remind the faction that while the other pursuits are worthwhile, our end goal is absolute control over our physical beings.” Meagan finished, dropping her teacher act. She visibly went over everything she said to ensure she hadn’t said anything that wasn’t public knowledge. She did give away a little, but Justine let it slide. The jerky was more important.

“Cool.” Jenny concluded. At her pronouncement, the group returned to their sustenance of non choice. Justine still looked as if she wanted to slaughter every member, but Meagan could tell she was enjoying solid food. Justine was visibly struggling to not eat too fast, it would be a shame if she shocked her body into dispelling the protein.

Justinia paused from her toil, and went over the group in her head. There was Khalil, a rather handsome Reform child —a child compared to her— with his hair typically tied back in some fashion. His skin was olive, lighter than her own. His eyes were a simple brown that hopefully had some further complexity as you got a better look at it. His thin frame held a mismatched outfit covered by a light-brown robe. There were a plethora of gold, silver, stone, and bone rings adorning seemingly random fingers. Similar earrings were chosen with indecipherable logic.

Khalil also had an intricately carved wooden staff peaking above his shoulder, strapped to his back. The engravings seemed to be lined with gold, but Justinia had never gotten a chance to truly look at them up close. She was typically lost in thought about whatever book she was currently reading. She really hoped the main character changed how he talked soon, it was becoming painful to read. Of the three, Justine and Khalil had talked the most. The young man was fond of books as well, so they were currently trading between themselves, then discussing the intricacies at the end of each story.

Darryn was a close second place, with Jenny far in last when it came to which adventures Justinia liked. Darryn may not speak much, and was frankly weird, but his forwardness was refreshing. There was no deceit in the walking armory, only the desire for battle. In terms of appearance, the man looked like a Korean model from earth; if you looked past all the scars and large frame. He always wore a full suit of armor, and Justine was fairly certain the large bag on his back contained chain mail. Why he would switch between plate and chain was not a question Justinia considered asking.

One thing she had asked about was why he never wore a helmet, nor gauntlets. He responded with “armor is supposed to protect the most vulnerable parts” to which Justinia decided to nod along before going to talk with Khalil. Otherwise, the man seemed to be the designated porter. He held a three person tent, a change of clothes for each, flint and steel, but no weapon for himself.

Jenny was fast friends with Meagan. Their unique personalities complement one another. Both are loud and extroverted, with Meagan being more bubbly, and Jenny being more crass. Jenny was a type of girl that got more attractive as you got to know her; she was homely. Her personality did eventually endear her to all around, and her ability to make others feel comfortable was astounding. She knew the right time to joke, laugh, listen, speak, and seemed to understand you within moments of talking. Justinia hated this.

Justinia was a complex woman who did not appreciate lengthy conversations, prying, or inane babble with no purpose. In fact, she was quite frustrated being saddled with adventurers centuries younger than herself. It felt like Olania tricked her, then Chrysanthemum set her up. She felt she was an over-glorified, underpaid babysitter. Before Justine could solidify her thoughts on Jenny, conversation started once more.

Darryn stood up. He lunged. He sat down. He crossed his legs. He stretched them out. Eventually, the large figure could be seen squatting. His heels were the only contact to the earth, hips placed above and between his ankles, his behind hung suspended. Certain races from Earth would be impressed at the reincarnation of the squat named after them. The position looked both uncomfortable, comical, and silly. Darryn had decided this was the one. He got comfortable before asking his question.

“Can we spar again Justine?” The battle hungry dreadnought asked. In the past weeks of travel, after much pestering, Justinia had decided to spar with Darryn. To this point, there has only been ties between the two. This was because Justinia only dodged. Not once did she strike out at the man. To her, it would feel like a grown person annihilating a toddler with a cardboard box. Then again, Darryn was talented. At some points the other two adventurers would have a hard time watching their fights; they were simply too fast.

“If you give me some of your jerky. I know you have more in that bag,” She said as she reached into her bag to pull a book out. Why Darryn would get comfortable before asking to spar, and Justine would pull out a book before accepting, boggled Khalil. He decided not to comprehend the insane. Darryn stood up before circling multiple times in an attempt to find his bag. It was on his back.

“You two should refrain,” Khalil said, “we have been crossing paths with a significant number of other forward parties. I would prefer to neither reveal information about ourselves, nor get weakened amongst a sea of vultures,” He hurriedly added.

“That’s why you’re always cold Khalil,” Darryn answered.

“What does that even mean?” Khalil shot back. “Just relax for now. In a week we will reach the Misfortune, and you will have plenty of time to battle the bloodthirsty creatures. Supposedly, our goal is a few more weeks further into the heart of the forest.” Darryn nodded, before squatting once more. Justinia was glad she brought out her book. Typically, they would have resumed their travel, but they were waiting for a party to pass that had been trailing them for a while. It reminded Justine of when she would go on walks on Earth. There would be a person directly behind her, but moving at the same speed. The person would never pass her, but would be right on her heels. She would occasionally hear the scuff of their shoe, or their breathing. It was just awkward.

The party had finally caught up to them. The leader seemed to be going out of her way to talk to them, when she saw the cleaved hill. Instead, she settled with walking past them. However there was one thing to note about the new party. They all seemed ready to fight at a moment's notice. They were stiff and vigilant. Yet none of their roaming gazes stared at their party for long. This did not go unnoticed by Jenny.

“Khalil, why are they so tense? It's like they are about to lose their vir—”

“How should I know?” He cut off her crass comment once more. This was a common occurrence for the party.

“Is there any news from the relay?”

“No, not a thing. They have been quiet for the majority, and besides our reports, there has been no dialogue,” Khalil truly believed what he was saying. He was unaware that the communication bracelet that had been given to him was unconnected from the relay. It was a one-way communication with Sam Colon. She had yet to enlighten him about recent events. As Sam had yet to inform them, Meagan decided to withhold what she had been overhearing.

“Strange,” Jenny commented. As the alert adventurers crested a hill and fell out of sight, all were lost in their thoughts once more. Until, Darryn made himself known once more.

“Now that they are gone, can we spar?”