No place is out of reach.

Wisdom of the Ancients, Book 2

That’s the kind of fight you don’t dare to begin, even with skills, Moore realized. Five significant level enemies, a proper team with loads of ranged attacks, against just two people. He didn’t know which skills they had within their specialization, or even how they got them, but that could be very bad. A healer changed everything in a team, but without one, risks became too high. He was only starting to know New Sandusky, but Laura wasn’t close, as he checked that view where she was shopping with Peter. The odds were not good.

He looked at the interface, allowing him extra time to decide on what he could do to change. He had kept loads of XP. A monstrous amount, sure, but then, a pair of levels and one additional skill for Johanna and Tom were not going to change anything at this point, even if she realized their sudden appearance. Not with a fire-resistant main opponent, a pair of bow specialists that looked competent even before skills, and without the backup of Laura. Any incapacitating hit and they were done for.

Then he opened his personal options. And notably, the one whose use he’d delayed until now.

Exchange.

Like the other, he had zero help outside of the interface itself. Moore had played with it back in Washington, and along with the name, he had ideas about what it truly meant. He’d delayed testing it, but time was no longer on his side. It was the only disrupting factor here.

He mentally sighed and realized one level, at least, might be useful. Level 9. A single commit and Johanna had one more skill point. Useless for her, apart from seven additional maximum mana… yet potentially important for what he could do with it.

He then pulled open the Exchange interface again. 150k, plus 10k per level of Johanna.

240k XP. And 45XP per second afterward. Either he was correct in his interpretation, or maybe, if it was just a temporary change of skills… she would have to improvise if she realized what happened.

Skills came naturally, right?

The main thing was that none of the nine skill slots that were now in the interface were locked. And he knew he could emplace up to nine skills of any tier, any stat, any level, and pick whatever specialization he had in his repertoire to apply to these skills, individually, for the highest multiplier he could find if he wanted to. And as he filled the UI, he saw Johanna’s level and stats of the temporary descriptor increase as well to match what he added.

Granted, he did not have many skills visible at the higher levels, even with his newly expanded level 10 horizon, but at least he could use some of the best he knew.

Multiple scenarios played out in his mind and on the interface. And every single one filled Moore with uncertainty. It had been over a year since he realized he still existed, and he did not want to risk his consciousness, retreating to a mindless existence. Survival of the four was paramount.

Johanna’s Level 9 meant nine skills to play with. Not one more. He had to compromise. Nine skills sounded a lot, but he needed to make up an entire team, against an entire actual team. Use the Talents for surprise, shock and awe, minimize the risks to her and Tom, and if he could cause them to run away, that would be for the best.

Just like a normal descriptor, he started playing with it. The modified descriptor didn’t show an increased mana pool available – just maximum mana, which would be next to useless given the time limit implicit in XP consumption. Same for stamina-based skills. He wouldn’t get more than one stamina to spend. He hoped that it would not go through a specialization-less phase that would empty Johanna’s mana pool, since it did not touch on her specialization.

That would make sense, but given how wonky the System was, he would not be surprised if it didn’t work that way. He should have tested it, but if he had… he would not have enough experience now to use it when needed.

He wiped his previous selections and set out to pick a theme. And as he filled it, it felt right.

Fleshless. Impressive on its own… and providing near-immunity to most piercing attacks, like those Ranger and Deadeye ones. Too bad no Master spec worked on that hybrid. But arrows? Pfft.

Shadow Wings. Another, not entirely for the effect. It would give him unmatched maneuverability once combat started. He could fly away in the worst case… but probably leave Tom behind. So, not really an option, unless he could get to reinforcements in time.

Ghostly Armor. Complementary protection to Fleshless for blunt damage. And guaranteed to add VFX oomph.

Falter was going to pay for itself there. Even if you knew what it was and steeled yourself to ignore it, its Tyrant Minister’s level effects were guaranteed. Or so he assumed – after all, he’d never experienced them, only the most obvious reactions of others.

Investiture of Ice, both for some visual effects, for local defense, and as a safety net, in case someone tried frost attacks. It was a Deadeye option, after all. He doubted he needed the extra fire resistance, but layering defenses… then he realized he might not have fire resistance unless he had something else…

It’s only a Fire Shaper. Active protection will have to suffice.

Sphere of Freezing Light. One of the handfuls of level 10 fresh unlocks. If the goons expected to face a Fire Master, that water-metal skill would be a nasty surprise, and the Fire Shaper wouldn’t have defenses.

Earthbind, because locking down your enemy while you fired on him always worked, as he’d seen so often.

Silence, which would confuse them when applied selectively.

He briefly hesitated, because there was only one slot left. Then he realized he’d layered defenses, but no defense was absolute. And Tom definitively did not have those.

A safe fight needed First Aid, even if he did end up using it.

He spent a few subjective moments checking the modified version of Johanna’s descriptor. After so long being constrained and shackled by the limits of the System, that one felt weird.

Exchange

Johanna Marcia Milton (level 9)

Cost: 240,000 XP

Ongoing cost: 45 XP per second

Fleshless

Unnatural Shaper (×3)

Shadow Wings

Metal Master (×3)

Ghostly Armor

Arcane Keeper (×3)

Falter

Tyrant Minister (×4)

Investiture of Ice

Water Master (×4)

Sphere of Freezing Light

Crystal Shaper (×2)

Earthbind

Earth Master (×3)

Silence

Tyrant Minister (×4)

First Aid

Combat Minister (x4)

Yes

No

Which, he had to admit, was the point. It should be impossible, and if the goons knew enough about the System… they’d realize it was.

Alea Jacta Est!

He mentally started the Exchange.

The lines in the endless blue space twisted around Johanna’s view as the separate interface merged with her descriptor.

Johanna was about to reply to the enemy forces leader when she felt a pull. It was as if… as if…

As if there were ropes tied to her hands. Her shoulders. Her hips. Her feet. Everywhere. And the ropes pulled, in a direction that her brain refused to feel.

The view in front of her folded, receding somehow… losing briefly perspective, before settling into a sort of window. Somehow surrounded by blue lines, but lines that extended beyond the square, stretching… stretching across impossible distances.

I’ve seen this. I’ve seen this kind of window before.

That was the same view she’d first seen over what looked like clouds. Back in the dreams in Zahl where she met with the skeleton. But instead of clouds, the view floated into some space, an empty sky full of blue lines crossing which her mind refused to understand. The blue lines stretched everywhere across the blue space that was a sea surrounding her.

A memory, distant, came back to her. Elena’s words, more than a year ago.

“For that one precious time in our existence, we swam in the ocean of mana before sleep ended. The endless blue and its light lines that make angles no one can picture, and its half-unreadable, half-unremembered words…”

I’m there. It’s that place. I’m in the place where… everything comes from.

I’m in the true realm of the Ancient. Not this liminal Dream he brings me to. His place beyond reality.

And there were still four windows, arrayed at dizzying angles. She tried to turn to look at them, and realized that although her point of view followed her will… there was nothing to turn. She tried to bring her hands in front of her, but there was nothing. She tried to look at herself, but there was no body. Nothing. She was a bodiless awareness floating in something that seemed impossible.

Two of the four windows showed more or less the same scene. The enemy leader was taking a step back, his eyebrows rising in obvious surprise, as she noted with the preternatural clarity of the views.

And she realized that one of the windows showed her standing there. How could she still be there if she was here?

But as she was speculating, she realized something was happening. Her flesh, as seen from the distance, was receding. Whorls of a translucent substance spread all over her. In a second, it was as if she had lost all her flesh. A skull, bony hands… her clothes vanished under what looked like a ghostly imprint of armor, and behind her sprang two ovals of shadow that resolved into something vaguely wing-shaped.

Her body stepped forward on its own accord, and she could see frost forming around her feet. The enemy leader’s eyes were starting to bulge, in what looked like slow motion.

What’s going on? Is that me or…?

As if to answer, something sprang from that window. As if a second window had come into existence next to the first. But that window was not a different view into the scene. It was… some form of text.

Johanna Marcia Milton

Douglas Jasper Moore

Female human, 20 years, 6 months

NULL, 183 years, 3 months

Human Resources Middle Manager

Level: 16

398/852 mana (+18 per hour)

0 unallocated skill points

XP: 8402

STR: 21

FLESHLESS (79)

GHOST ARMOR (100)

AUT: 26

FALTER (120)

SHADOW WINGS (94)

SILENCE (120)

AGI: 21

EARTHBIND (77)

PER: 18

DEX: 19

FIRST AID (92)

EMP: 23

INVESTITURE OF ICE (108)

SPHERE OF FREEZING LIGHT (62)

And the XP number dropped steadily. She blinked, or tried to. The text was immediately replaced by another

Johanna Marcia Milton

Douglas Jasper Moore

Female human, 20 years, 6 months

NULL, 183 years, 3 months

Fire Master

Level: 9 (55000 XP needed)

398/405 mana (+18 per hour)

1 unallocated skill point

XP: 0 + 8,267

STR: 18 (7410 XP needed)

Blazing Orb (45)

AUT: 21 (5562 XP needed)

Flame Handing (93)

AGI: 18 (4978 XP needed)

Cinder Circle (45)

PER: 18 (6005 XP needed)

Mana Sight (63)

DEX: 19 (4957 XP needed)

Flaming Blade (66)

Fireball (66)

EMP: 18 (4622 XP needed)

Steam Breath (27)

Wait, what’s that? She focused on the names… and found descriptions. Ones whose meaning she recognized.

She swirled to turn to Tom and focused. The text window that came out was highly different, but… it was Tom.

His Talents. Measurement of all kinds of things. And when she looked at the skills, she got the exact description of what they did. Add X% to trauma injuries. Know when enemies came after him.

Is this how it all looks… to Him?

And she realized suddenly what the other window for her was showing.

Douglas Jasper Moore.

That was a name. The name of the Ancient himself… who, somehow, had taken over. He now replacing her, in the middle of the confrontation against the Warden’s thugs, bringing entirely different Talents into play. Breaking the rules that Gomez had started to explore.

And as she looked around, she spotted another scene playing over Peter and Laura’s views.

Zlatan had them cornered, he thought. Despite all the weirdness, their powers were well known. And thanks to their own actions, he had enough force, Talent builds to counteract them. Once split, they were manageable. And once hostages, they could be leveraged against each other instead of reinforcing each other.

But Johanna Milton looked at him, her gaze steeling, a blue light playing in her eyes… and she changed.

In seconds, her flesh vanished, bones held by a half-seen glow showing hints of moving things. An armor, made of light somehow, sprang around her. Behind her back, sheets of utter blackness unfolded, like wings made out of shadows.

And she looked at him, blue lights playing where eyes should be, in vaguely visible sockets of bone. He felt dread. He recognized briefly that sensation. Falter, he thought. But she wasn’t the sorceress with it. Her acolyte had it and she wasn’t even there. And then, shadowy lips parted, showing a bony rictus that was a smile.

“You interfere.”

The voice was Johanna Milton’s… yet it wasn’t.

She started rising in the air, and his eyes went wide. None of the Talents he knew about allowed people to fly like that. Her Talents definitively did not. She was supposed to be a fire-attuned Master, he even had the Talent list, but this was nothing like she should be…

She was now floating just above his head, looking down at him as she cupped a hand and a ball of white light appeared in it. She slowly floated forward, advancing as if she cared not a whit for his Talented team. “You should not…”

“Your interference is not allowed. I do not allow you.”

He tried to speak, but no word came. His mouth opened, but no sound came, as if he had forgotten even how to speak.

“Their choice is mine. I choose. And they have a mission. All of them.”

Zlatan felt his blood drain, even more than Falter could account for. This time, his voice was there when he tried to ask.

“Who… who are you?”

“You should know of me. I am what brings completion to the world.”

He suddenly realized what he was looking at. This wasn’t Johanna Milton. The information from Agnello, about an ancient skeleton, back in the northwest, which had been the source of their powers. Their talents, their ability to create the parchments of power that he’d used to get where he was now. It now made a terrible kind of sense.

That Skeleton, somehow, was now standing in front of him.

“Ancient…”

“I was before your world was remade. You are wise to recognize truths.”

Two arrows almost materialized, stuck into the… fleshless cover around the bones of the Skeleton. The bolts vibrated in place, before being somehow pushed out, falling and clattering on the ground. The Skeleton’s gaze turned, and the ball of ice in his hand launched.

One of the rangers screamed as the icy cold light struck and fell, clutching his chest where the orb clung, shrinking. His Stock Fixer dropped his knife and ran, before recoiling as he tried to touch the wound.

“It’s keeping it…” he started.

“Know the limits of your powers before you use them. You have a long way to go,” the Skeleton said, dismissively and a new ball of icy light sprang from the cupped skeletal hand, firing at the medic who bolted, the ball angling to follow. Another immediately rose before the ball even dissipated, floating inches above the hand.

The other Heroic bowman blanched, but the Ancient Power turned their gaze back toward Zlatan. The skeletal form was a few yards before him looking down. He felt the incredible cold that radiated from the Power, deeper even than the coldest winter.

“Go, new man. You have made the right step in accepting the powers. Now, make the right step in accepting the inevitable.”

“What do you want?” he stammered.

“I want nothing. The world wants from you. Your enemies await you at its edges, not here.”

Zlatan stepped back, and the skeletal Power stayed in place, its unnatural blue flame eyes watching him.

“Go forth and say to your masters that change is coming. Not as a storm… but as a tide.”

There was a small bark, which he recognized as a laugh.

“And you are part of the tide.”

Zlatan turned and started running. Seeing their leader fleeing, the Talented support looked briefly at each other and then started running as well.

Tom walked slowly to where Johanna… or whatever took over her was slowly descending to the ground while watching the men from the Montana fleeing.

“Jo?”

The skeletal form turned and watched him.

“Too little left now,” the weird reply came. “Need over nine thousand. No, ninety-five hundred now.”

The skeleton turned again, keeping watch as the last of the thugs vanished around a corner. Then, it made a sound that felt like a sigh. The darkness, the translucent armor, the shape vanished abruptly and Johanna suddenly bent in sudden shock, her flesh restored abruptly.

“JO!”

She raised her hand, the other on her knee. Breathing heavily, as if she’d run miles. Tom ignored the raised hand and squeezed her.

“I’m okay. I’m okay…”

“Was the Skeleton, right?” Tom asked.

Johanna breathed deeply again before answering, “Yes. Yes, it was Douglas.”

“Douglas?”

“He pulled me. He… exchanged his place with me. And I could see his name.”

“Name?”

“Douglas. Douglas Moore.”

Then she grasped him tightly.

“Peter and Laura!”