Everything ached. His right leg ached. His head throbbed. The simple act of breathing was torturous. Everything ached and yet the pain slid off the top of Sepeti’s mind like water sliding down a waterfall. When he finally came out of his daze, he and Gran were approaching the outskirts of Extuahal-Tol.

His black, loose-fitting clothes billowed in the hot wind that softly blew from the desert into the city. Sweat made his shirt stick to his back. It felt nice, if he was being honest. Despite the heat of the slowly descending sun, each breeze that passed over him made him shiver. A side-effect of Gran’s strange healing magic. At least, the giant claimed as much. He’d said something about the healing relying on drawing out internal mana flow and using it to accelerate the natural healing of the body. Sepeti hadn’t cared nor bothered to understand what the hell the giant was going on about.

All he’d cared about was finding out more about Gran’s relationship with Boba. Other than revealing that he had, somehow, been in contact with the inept God, Gran hadn’t said much. The relationship remained a mystery. And a point of further annoyance.

“We’ll head over to the Hunter’s Quarters in the foreign district,” Gran rumbled as he waved nonchalantly at the janky little gate guard who was nodding off at their raggedy guardpost. “I’m sure we can get ya signed up for the collective exams, hopefully they’ll have all three portions up and running within the next few days.”

“What makes you think I’m gonna join the Hunter’s?” A spike of annoyance flowed through Sepeti. He was tired of never having a say in what he wanted to do. Ever since, maybe even before, he’d arrived on this forsaken planet, his ability to make choices for himself had been completely erased. If there wasn’t a God forcing bullshit quests on him then there was, conveniently, a much stronger being around to force his hand.

“Because they’re yer best bet for gathering info to hurry up and get yer quest going. And they got the most benefits as far as being able to move around without being hampered by red tape.”

“Nah, I wanna join the Artisans.”

Something tugged at Sepeti’s consciousness as he stubbornly stated his intent. Maybe a pang of guilt? He wasn’t sure. But it felt wrong just stating his intent to go against what was obviously most beneficial to his current needs.

Gran harrumphed, long stride shortening as he looked over his shoulder. “Son, that won’t do. Ya got a monster related quest and I’m pretty sure ya don’t even got much in the way of skills or experience that would allow you to pass the Artisan exam’s. Trust me, Hunters are the way to go.”

Sepeti avoided the giant’s disconcerting all black eyes. It made his back itch whenever the large man turned them on him.

“I do have skills that’ll make me valuable to the Artisans. And I have… ideas.”

A pit knotted in his stomach. Not because he was lying but rather because he knew the giant’s reasoning was infallible. A cursory look at his skill list showed that he was completely useless outside of combat situations. Hell, he was barely even competent when it came to fighting. Sure, he had the memories of extensive training but those were useless when it came to practical application. His fight with Delijia had proven that theoretical know-how didn’t automatically translate into mastery. The only good thing that had come out of his duel was his having picked up an unarmed combat skill, |Unarmed Combat - {Low}|, a martial arts passive, |Nak Muay|, and an active, |Frenzy: Lose Your Cool|. He’d gained other skills but he wasn’t all that interested in going over them.

“Ok, sure ya do sonny,” Gran said. Sepeti wasn’t sure but it felt like the giant was rolling his pitch black eyes at him. “Then we can go to the Artisan’s Marketplace and get ya checked out and registered for their exams.”

They walked in silence. Sepeti felt loopy, that odd sensation from earlier grew with each step. He couldn’t quite decide what he was feeling. A weight pressed down on his head. He hoped he wasn’t concussed but that was definitely a possibility. Before he knew it, he found himself in the middle of a crowd. He hadn’t noticed how long they’d been walking or how far but this place definitely felt like a marketplace.

Unlike the uniformity of the city, the Artisan’s Marketplace was a large space filled with the chaos of many bodies busy with their business. Stalls and storefronts surrounded the wide plaza. Even more stalls littered the area, many were little more than a cloth spread on the ground with wares laid out for easy perusal. There was a pattern to the chaos but Sepeti’s head ached as he tried to figure it out. Pathways through the marketplace seemed to grow organically as the space between merchant stalls varied from spot to spot. Some of the merchants were literally shoulder to shoulder, pitching their wares as compliments to one another. Somehow, the milling masses were able to navigate the plaza. This was his first time seeing so many people in one place in a very, very long time. And it made him nauseous, nervous, and jittery.

Or maybe it had something to do with the odd sensation of wrongness that had been growing in his head.

“Come on, sonny,” Gran rumbled over the hubbub. The giant guided him through the crush of bodies with a large, reassuring hand firmly pressed against his sweaty back. “The collective house is just up ahead.”

The giant expertly wove through the crowds. He was tall enough to see over the crush of bodies and large enough to move people out of his way with his presence alone. The collective house was the only double storied building in the whole plaza. It sat right in the middle of everything, making it easy for the market goers to orient themselves based on where they were in relation to the building.

Sepeti let out a sigh of relief as they entered. Being in such a large crowd had made it hard for him to breathe. The Artisan House, in stark contrast to the plaza, was mostly empty. Much like the Association building, it reminded him more of a restaurant or a bar than a place of business. A pair of receptionists, a man and a woman, sat behind the raised counter in the middle of the large, open concept room.

“Heya, how’s it going?” Gran greeted the pair, leaning on the counter and flashing his jagged smile. “We’re here to see about the exams. This one wants to join the Artisan’s. Ya got any info for him?”

“Welcome, gentlemen,” the man said, voice a pleasing baritone. The woman smiled and nodded as she pushed a brochure at Sepeti. “May we take a look at your ID, please?”

Sepeti handed his metallic ID over as he began reading the brochure. It was little more than a page folded in half. The word ‘Artisans’ adorned the cover, letters heavily stylized. It reiterated some of the information that had been covered in the pamphlet he’d gotten from the Association interview. What caught his eye was the list of Factions. Only three were currently listed but, probably through some quality of life magic, there was an indicator that blinked slowly. He touched the indicator and felt a tiny amount of mana flow into the paper. The list of Factions expanded right off the edge of the brochure, magical ink floating translucently as the list kept going.

Sepeti skimmed the names and quickly came to the understanding that, outside of the first three Factions listed, each one catered to a specific profession and life skill. Touching the names of the Factions caused the long list to disappear. Taking its place was a brief explanation of the selected Faction and a listing of the Factions chair, assistant, and location. He found this extremely convenient and pleasing. Not for the first time, he mulled over just how easy magic made things. He made a mental note to eventually learn how to use some of this life magic. Then he promptly forgot.

At random, Sepeti opened and closed different Factions. The Weavers Club, the Embroidery Coalition, Stitch and the Posse, the list went on. He found some of the names to be clever but most were pragmatic and to the point, selling themselves exactly for what they were. The one he was most interested in, Blacksmithing Anonymous, happened to be one of the largest.

He’d always loved reading stories that featured brilliant Blacksmiths and Metallurgists who worked wonders with metal and their derivative parts. ‘Oseni was far too advanced for blacksmithing to still be a popular thing but he had always been interested in the metallurgists from his homeworld. Much like the blacksmiths of old, the metallurgists he’d admired had made art out of the science of molding all types of metals and material. His parents would have probably allowed him to pursue it as a career path had the Presage never occurred.

“Mr. Sepeti.” The woman held his ID out as his reverie broke. “Thank you for making the Artisan’s your first choice of Collective. Please place your hand on this reader for me.”

She motioned to a familiar metallic slab resting on the counter. This one looked like the one he’d used at the Association but there were symbols carved into the surface. The memory of what had happened the last time he’d touched one of these ‘readers’ made him shiver.

“I’d rather not,” he mumbled. “Can’t I just tell you what I’m interested in? I already have a pretty good idea of what I want to go into.”

The man shook his head. “Unfortunately this is part of the induction procedure. We check the skills of all prospective applicants so we can better steer them toward a profession that they would excel at.”

“I thought members of the Association could join any collective and any faction?”

“Yes,” the man nodded and gave Sepeti a tired smile. “That is technically true. All members have the opportunity to join all three collectives and as many factions as they can handle. But the reality is that all of us are limited in our capacity to be able to effectively serve in the varying roles and professions offered by the Association. For example, a master blacksmith may have skills that can apply to learning how to become a tailor but it would take them far too long to ever advance beyond the basic and moderate levels of mastery to be able to learn and properly apply skills and experience toward becoming a decent tailor. This would ultimately end up in them toiling away at a profession they aren’t meant for and squandering their potential.”

Sepeti couldn’t help but frown. This was just like the vaunted career path acclimation they’d had back on ‘Oseni. He found it vexing that even here, in this far off corner world, he couldn’t get away from life trying to force him into conformity.

“And what if somebody shows they can be good at anything they try?”

“Then they’re welcome to do so,” the woman said as she took over for her coworker. “But we, as in the Association and the Artisan Collective, see that as a waste of time. Specialty is much more valuable and sought after.”

Sepeti rubbed his chin, ruffling the few chin hairs he’d managed to grow during his month-long stay in the city-state. Again, people were making way too much sense for his liking and it was annoying. First Gran and now these two nameless mooks.

“If you will,” the woman motioned to the metallic slab again.

Gran was busy undoing the braids of his beard. The giant gave Sepeti a knowing smile.

“Fine,” Sepeti said as he slid his hand onto the slab. He hoped nothing as weird as the branding would occur again.

The two receptionists pulled out an identical slab. Both slabs lit up, the one under his hand emitting a film of light that encircled his arm. He watched the pair's reactions, trying his best to gauge their facial expressions. What were they seeing on their slab?

He was pretty sure they wouldn’t be able to see any of his skills. He still had no real frame of reference as to what the average person’s skill list looked like but he was pretty sure that his wasn’t normal. He did a quick count of his skills, excluding his magic list, and found that he had twenty-nine skills in all. Way too many for his liking. Too much fluff and not enough substance, if anyone ever asked his opinion.

The receptionists frowned as they looked at their slab. The light that ensconced his arm was steady. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to feel anything but a slight heat made the small hairs on his arms stand on edge.

“Sir,” the man said as he looked up at Sepeti. “Just to double check. How many skills do you have?”

Sepeti cursed internally. He should have asked Gran for some advice on the matter before they’d arrived. He’d been so deep in thought about nothing in particular that he hadn’t thought to prepare himself. The giant smiled at him, pitch black eyes glistening knowingly. Damned giant had known something like this would happen.

“Five,” Sepeti said in a rush. “Why?”

“Oh,” the woman chirped as something on the slab happened. He really would have liked to know what they were seeing. It was irritating just knowing that people were privy to information about him that he wasn’t even aware of. “It’s updated. Maybe it was just a hiccup?”

The man nodded as he gave Sepeti a hard once over. Something in the man’s eyes said he was suspicious.

“So, it looks like you only have one applicable life skill,” the man said, eyes glued to the glowing slab. “Unfortunately, that one isn’t a |Mastery| skill. You don’t currently qualify for the Collective exam but we can offer you an apprenticeship.”

Sepeti wanted to ask which skill they were talking about but he didn’t want to out himself as an inexperienced Offworlder to randoms he might never see again. He figured they were probably talking about his useless |Woodworking| skill.

The receptionists gave him a rundown of the apprenticeship. Due to the broad nature of his only visible life skill, he would be apprenticing under the Woodsman Incorporated faction. There, they would help guide him into a specialized mastery skill surrounding any of the professions that work with wood exclusively. As the receptionists barraged him with useless, mind-numbing information, Sepeti began to regret being obstinate. He caught the shadow of a smirk on Gran’s lips. Or he could have imagined it, what with the heavy beard and drooping mustache getting in the way.

After what amounted to a little more than an hour of wasted time, the duo exited the Artisan house. Sepeti quietly cursed the overly helpful pair of employees. They’d inundated him with information and had gotten him to sign up for the apprenticeship despite his initial hesitance. They’d told him that the apprenticeship meant a minimum two year commitment. He didn’t have that kind of time.

“That was fruitful,” Gran rumbled, a hint of laughter in his voice, as they exited the bustling plaza. “Surprised ya let them talk ya into agreeing to the apprenticeship. And here I thought you were a real hard ass. Well, we still have some time. I’ll show ya where I’ve been staying. Ya can crash with me until we get ya set up with yer own place.”

“What time do they close?” Sepeti asked.

“Who?”

“The Hunter’s.” He purposefully avoided the giant's gaze as embarrassment flushed his cheeks red.

“They don’t,” Gran said. The giant showed mercy, leading the way without prodding. “Just for future reference, five skills is a lot for a level five. Those specialized skill reader Idennio’s are used by all three collectives. Tell ‘em ya got three skills and they won’t give ya the stink eye like that receptionist had. Knowing yer boon, I’m sure ya can use it to fool the Idennio’s just like ya did when they asked how many skills you had. How many do ya have, by the way?”

“Five,” Sepeti said, still avoiding the giant’s gaze. Sure, Gran was helping him. But that didn’t mean he’d earned Sepeti’s trust.

“Ok, five.” Gran chuckled as they continued to walk. “If ya have five, then yer in a better starting place than most common folk. But yer behind the curve as far as Offworlders and boon holders are concerned. Just for future reference.”

Sepeti wanted to ask so many questions. A part of him wanted to implicitly trust the mysterious giant. The giant's amiable mask had slipped back at the Elefani encampment but that only made him want to learn more about the enigmatic presence that was Gran d’emas Ter. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Trusting was a dangerous game.

“Here it is,” Gran said as they turned a corner. “The Hunter’s Quarters.”

Despite being in the foreign district, the building that served as the Hunters headquarters was just as vibrant as most Extuano houses and shops. Maybe more so. The walls were adorned with all manner of magically affixed colorful flags. The flags seemed to be plastered to the walls and they moved much like the electronic banners once did back on his homeworld, scrolling along the walls in an endless rotation. It was a sight, he just wasn’t sure if it was the type he actually cared for. It was also the largest building he’d seen in the city, sitting at three stories high.

“I always forget how gaudy this place is,” Gran said. “Of the three collectives, the Hunters embody the multinational nature of the Association the most. Ya’d think it would be the Peacekeepers but these guys have ‘em beat.”

They entered the building and Sepeti still couldn’t figure out how Gran managed to fit through normal sized doorways. The giant was massive but something about his height and stature never really made sense. He’d have to figure it out at a later time.

Just like the Artisan’s and the Association, the Hunter’s Quarters sported an open concept interior. Unlike the other two, though, was the fact that the Hunter’s reception was much, much bigger. Counter’s lined the far wall and were currently manned by five receptionists.

“They really don’t close?” Sepeti asked as they slipped into a line behind some other hunters. “This late in the day and they’re still pretty busy.”

“Hunting business don’t ever rest, son,” Gran said. “This branch of the Hunters collective oversees a pretty big region. The Zen desert by itself is a beast, sporting one of the most populous and varied ‘non-humanoid’ populations in the world. Add to that all the neighboring islands that fall under the Hunters jurisdiction and ya got one of the most active branches around.”

Sepeti’s limited understanding of this world, a world that he still hadn’t bothered to learn the name of, was starting to bite him in the ass. Gran had shared a lot of knowledge over the month they’d known one another and he still had a hard time remembering most of it. The island that Extuahal-Tol was located on was in the middle of a vast ocean. The island was large enough to be considered a continent but had yet to be formally recognized as such by the rest of the world due to its being mostly uninhabited desert. Weird point to be nit-picky about but the Extuano were working on getting that changed, one geomantic expansion at a time.

“So a lot of hunters travel to the other islands?”

“Some,” Gran said. “Majority work in the Zen. Easier pickings, lower stakes. The more ambitious folks take the traveling gigs. Pays more and the difficulty rises the further out they go.”

Their line moved and Sepeti took in the many hunters that filtered in and out of the building. He glossed over their features, unwilling to take in that much information. He noticed some interesting looking humanoids he’d never seen before but they weren’t intriguing enough for him to pay much attention. Maybe he’d ask Gran about them later. None of the hunters had any weapons on display so he couldn’t make any guesses as to peoples combat professions.

“No one has any weapons,” Sepeti grumbled. He would have liked to have seen some sort of weaponry. In fact, his whole stay in Extuahal-Tol had been oddly devoid of weaponry despite being located so close to a monster infested desert.

“They ain’t allowed in the city,” Gran said. “Surprised ya didn’t notice earlier. Hunter’s keep their weapons stowed in their lodgings while they’re in city limits. Only the Peacekeepers are allowed to carry weapons.”

“What happens if there’s a large-scale attack or some weirdo’s like those desert dudes invade?”

Gran snickered at Sepeti’s question like it was some sort of joke. “Extuahal-Tol’s probably one of the safest cities in the world. The geomancy they use to expand the city limits has a weird effect on monsties. Didn’t you notice how there weren’t any monsters around when we went out to the desert?”

Sepeti hadn’t noticed. He’d been too busy enjoying the skidders on the way out to the encampment and too dazed on their way back. He shook his head.

“Well, monsters can’t get within twenty or so miles of the city limits. The Elefani fall under the purview of the Association so they’re technically in alliance with Extuahal-Tol. The only real threat to the city comes from the sea. Some pirates like to raid trade ships and fishing rigs every now and then but they ain’t been able to properly raid the coast of the city in years. That’s mostly due to the Association too. They regularly send out mercs to ‘set-right’ the raiders.”

“Next,” a receptionist called as their turn to speak to someone finally arrived. Sepeti immediately slid his ID across the counter.

“I’m here to register and see about taking the exams.”

This receptionist was much less talkative than the Artisan pair. He flipped Sepeti’s ID over, gave it a quick tap, then pointed at the skill Idennio. “Hand please.”

Sepeti placed his hand on the metallic slab and concentrated on the number three. Gran had suggested he try focusing on limiting his skill list by picking out three skills that were combat oriented, preferably |Mastery| skills so they wouldn’t have to deal with a possible apprenticeship. The slab in front of the receptionist lit up immediately.

“Three skills, level five. You meet the minimum requirements to take the exams. First one is tomorrow at noon.” The receptionist tapped Sepeti’s ID again before sliding it back to him. They also handed him a sheet that gave a basic outline of what the exams would be covering. “Anything else?”