Contender Elonia Silver has entered Training Pod X03. Increased epinephrine levels detected. Elevated heart-rate detected. Opioid withdrawal detected. Countermeasures have been initiated.

Elonia bit her lip… but didn’t resist the wave of sweet relief washing over her.

“Keep infusions to a minimum,” she whispered. She couldn’t deny how much better she felt, as a thousand aches slowly numbed leaving her feeling blessedly pain free, yet with her thoughts still as lucid and clear as they had been every other time she had dared the pod.

Clearer, actually, Elonia only now able to appreciate just how much better she felt, having more than doubled what had been an abysmal Vitality. Now nearly 20 points above Olympian levels, with her Train Pod having given her a few free points of Strength to balance it out for what amounted to absolutely free.

It had only been the terror of death, and from there, increasingly painful withdrawal and, of course, the pain she always felt when her pain medication waned, or when her vindictive mother used her faerie charms to literally pull the relief right out of her flesh and bones. But the truth was, she should have been shrieking with pain, or dying of constant seizures, her mu opioid receptors forcefully torn free of oxycontin’s bliss… after using it, hardcore, for over six months.

But she hadn’t been.

She had felt awful, on the verge of spasming, spewing vomit, shrieking in pain.

But she had held it together.

Because her Vitality had shot up from 15 to 35. Far above gold medal Olympians.

She was now well past the threshold where Eric had confessed he had actually started regenerating.

And how wondrous was that? She thought with a smile, a tentative tongue no longer feeling the ugly split her mother’s wicked nail had slashed in her lip.

For daring to offend.

The injury gone as if it had never been.

She chuckled bitterly in the pod. A part of her wondering if it had been deliberate, Aurelia keeping her Vitality so low. So the pain would hit her wayward daughter that much deeper. So she’d have no relief but the oxycodone her mother alone supplied their chief healer with. A doctor who had actually dared to suggest that in return for her performing certain favors, he’d be willing to do far more than taking the edge off, so she could sleep at night.

Enticing her with the promise of endless hours of euphoric bliss, whenever she craved his gifts.

And the way he had smiled, a former medical resident who in another place and time she would have actually thought handsome, gazing at her like a fragile little flower that he’d love to claim as his own… it was all she could do not to slash open his throat.

Instead, she had laughed off his vile offer like a bad joke. Fortunately, he had been smart enough to immediately do the same, from then on showcasing the height of professional discretion whenever administering her treatments, wise enough to never speak of it again.

As to why she had spared that man… after every Sylvan healer had been assassinated by those damn goblin snipers, the only time they had made use of actual suicide bombers, he was the only human Classer with any healing arts at all who’d actually been crazy enough to join them.

Even if he had been serving time just a year ago, for crimes she chose not to dwell on.

At least he hadn’t joined the orcs. A choice that forgave so many otherwise irredeemable sins. Even better, he’d been nothing but professional with his assistant, a young Sylvan Conscript who seemed destined for a genuine healing class, and who was now spearheading the treatment plans for all the women and children rescued in the abandoned orc camps.

“Fuck. Did I really need to be so extreme with my point allocation, chasing that +15% Spell Power boon?” she wondered aloud.

Or maybe she was just being paranoid like Eric, who had so many momma issues it wasn’t even funny. But then again, considering what she herself had seen… - She tore out the man’s heart! Draconic eyes crinkling with mirth as he screamed and screamed, helplessly crushed in her coils while she devoured him alive! - She couldn’t blame him. Not really.

All she could do was ask the question she had been putting off since she first slipped back into the pod, neither daring the module, nor wanting to say aloud the question that had plagued her since her heart-to-heart with her brother. All the more so when recalling her mother’s furious expression. Features twisted with inhuman fury in the blink of an eye.

A look that froze Elonia to terror, even now.

The beloved daughter who would be queen forced herself to accept the awful glimpse she had seen, for just a heartbeat, of the true master of the board. The ancient head of the Sylvan Alliance who was absolutely livid with the piece that had failed to move just as she had wished.

No matter that such a move might destroy Elonia utterly.

But still… her mother hadn’t lied.

She knew that in her heart as well.

She really had helped Elonia forge the deadliest white tier class imaginable, no matter that Elementalist was technically an Adept class, with power already rivaling even the earliest levels of Bronze, so long as said rituals were cast by a Contender in her own territory, and she earned twelve points per level, one for each functioning node, not the 9 points her Adept class should normally allow her.

Her mother truly had warped and twisted Elonia’s Elementalist class to glorious effect, and Elonia couldn’t deny the power already at her command, now that she was finally in position to master at least one of her spells, cutting down its casting time from 2 painful hours to ten minutes.

The one single point her mother would forgive her for wasting, after committing, in her words, absolute folly.

“Alright. Bottom line. If it works… if I can actually forced open my final four nodes without rupturing them, then I’ll be on the fast track to Arch-Mage, and from there, High Arch-Magister, a ritualist who will be on par with Mid Tier Bronze, the moment I ascend. That will be enough to put the fear of god in all my foes. But no matter what happens, I just need to survive long enough to claim the nation of my birth as my own.”

Elonia sighed happily at the thought. Because the moment she solidified her power over the former continental united states, the System would instantly recognize her as a Duchess, backdooring her into a powerful Epic Tier Bronze class, no matter if her foundation was otherwise hanging by a thread. Even if there was no a chance in hell she could ever endure a High Arch-Magister’s ascension. Best of all, if her mother’s claims were correct, her foundation would be instantly restored, held up by the pillars of her territory, however corroded and brittle her channels had been, just seconds before her ascension.

“Then I can use all that added power and catapult myself to becoming queen of the entire fucking world. That will lock in my eventual ascension to Silver, and endless levels of ever growing power in the domain Mother herself strides along… will be open wide before me.”

She flashed a fierce smile at the thought, allowing herself to savor the dreams of glory, adulation, and yes, the fierce joy of conquest that had given her the strength to persevere, train, and endure, no matter her exhaustion, despair, or pain.

She shook her head. “But if the tiniest mistake is made, if even one of those nodes is stretched too tight to accept gifts better suited to classers bordering level 100, I risk the most agonizing of deaths at worst, and crippling injury and agony if everything goes even a hair less than perfect.”

“Arcane Training Pod X03 Awaits your request.”

Elonia winced, knowing that even verbalizing her thoughts was a risk, for all that enunciating it helped her think. Helped her to focus.

Ultimately, she was just delaying. She had questions to ask, and depending on the answers, a decision to make.

“X03. Assuming I have the 48 necessary potency points to catalyze the transformation, what are the odds of successfully cracking open my final 4 nodes and implanting the final 4 arcane arts Aurelia Silver insists I embrace.” She flashed a bitter grin. “And by successfully implanting, I mean granting me full use of those abilities, without rupturing my nodes or utterly destroying my meridian matrix.”

Elonia’s slow measured breathing began to quicken as the pause lengthened for endless, awful minutes.

She thought she couldn’t feel more anxious when the machine finally spoke.

She was wrong.

“Arcane Training Pod X03 will assure maximum probability of success.”

Elonia clenched her jaw, ignoring the pounding of her heart. “What, exactly, is the percentage of success?”

“Arcane Training Pod X03 will assure maximum probability of success.”

Elonia flashed a bitter smile. “If I rolled a six-sided die, what are the odds of it coming up one?”

“Sixteen and two thirds of a percent.”

“And what are the odds of my brother single-handedly achieving Overlord status, all by himself?”

“Error. Unknown variable. Which brother are you referring to?”

Elonia flushed, forced to acknowledge at that moment that she might have dozens, perhaps hundreds of siblings she had never met over countless worlds, if her inhuman millennia-old mother had been true to form.

“My twin brother, Eric Silver.”

“If current limitations remain in place, zero percent. Eric Silver refuses to claim Dominion over any of his conquests. A Path of Consumption is suspected by multiple Terran Administrators.”

Elonia hissed, fist clenching in dread. She knew damn well that the administrators were effectively the goblin’s pawns, and would do whatever they could to hinder and cripple anyone who hadn’t bribed them an absolute fortune. Her mother’s bitter sharp warnings after they had discretely conquered and frozen multiple Canadian territories to oblivion, bending the rules nearly as blatantly as the goblins did, then somehow concealing their heinous crimes from the Dominion Interface as a whole, were still ringing in her mind. The real reason why she herself had so little territory, and had been able to push her insanely tweaked Elementalist class variant so far.

“Is Eric in trouble?” She bit her lip, fearing saying even that was too much.

She didn’t know whether to be horrified or relieved that the AI understood precisely what she was getting at.

“All territories Eric Silver has conquered show better than baseline attributes. All territories Eric Silver has conquered show evidence of Sovereign Boons superior in quality to those of all other conquered territories, amongst the fraction of Contenders able to transform their holdings with Druidic, Mystic, or other causality warping methods, according to Dominion Interface records. Blue Corporation, holding exclusive rights over multiple territories surrendered by Eric Silver, in return for strictly mercantile profit shares free of formal rank or title, has sent documented evidence verifying this assertion to multiple relevant parties. As such, there is no precedent or pretext for inquisitorial action to be taken.”

Elonia couldn’t help but crack a grin at that, chatting on as if her brother were by her side, not sleeping the sleep of the exhausted, several rooms away. “Of course. You were always a big ideas guy, bro. You hated headaches, micromanagement, and juggling a dozen things at once. And trying to build a business from the ground up, or manage an empire without being stupid enough to let our mother grab the reins and take over in all but name, because I’m not really that much better than you are, is headaches every step of the way. Tossing your territories to Blue Corp so they can manage all the nitty gritty of property development while you get to ride off into the sunset with a pretty girl and a profit share? That fits you to a T.”

Elonia sighed with relief before focusing on the real reason she was daring her mother’s inhuman wrath, entering a training pod she knew damn well Aurelia would have forbidden her from even touching, if she knew her daughter was actually able to function beyond writhing in torment in her bedroom.

She clenched her jaw and shook her head, knowing she was running out of time.

“X03. True or false. The odds of my rolling 1 on a 6-sided die is greater than 10%”

“True.”

“True or false. The odds of Eric and his undead legions taking over New York City is greater than 84%”

“True.”

Elonia’s heart started to race.

“True or false. The odds of successfully cracking open my final 4 nodes and implanting the final 4 powers Aurelia insists I embrace, granting me full use of all twelve primary arcane elements without rupturing my nodes or utterly destroying my meridian matrix, sufficient that I may evolve my class to Arch-Mage after level 49 is greater than 0%”

“True.”

Elonia swallowed, suddenly so nervous she thought she’d pass out.

But she forced herself to ask the question. The question she needed an answer to.

“True or false. The odds of achieving the aforementioned is greater than 10%”

“True.”

Elonia’s breath abruptly exhaled in a relieved chuckle. “Shit, Eric, you had me jumping at shadows! Okay, finally, the reassurance I need. Is it 80%? Something like that?”

She frowned thoughtfully, balancing as objectively could the sweet promise of near limitless power for a very real risk of death or a lifetime of agonizing pain, deciding that yes, she could indeed live with 80%. 75% Would be pushing it. But an 80% chance of success, she could definitely live with.

She smiled, happy to find it far easier to ask the follow up question as she worked her way up the rungs of safety, one gentle step at a time.

“True or false. The odds of achieving the aforementioned is greater than 20%”

For endless agonizing seconds, she received no response at all.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She whispered in horrified disbelief.

The, finally, an answer.

“Arcane Training Pod X03 will assure maximum probability of success.”

She blanched in disbelief. Ice cold tendrils of panic squeezed her chest so tight she could barely choke back the scream clawing at the back of her throat.

Never had she felt so alone and vulnerable as she did at that moment.

A fragile broken girl with a body far too weak for any level 43 adventurer. Tied to a warped class variant that, so far, was focused only on battlefield rituals necessitating an entire military force at her back.

Only now did she force herself to acknowledge what her brother had been trying to tell her, from the moment they had first entered the training pods together.

Two hour long rituals, even those reduced to ten minutes through diligent mastery, was far too long to do any good against a surprise attack, or a dungeon delve. Just as bad, her physical stats and reaction time were far too low for any active delver, let alone a girl who would be entirely self-sufficient.

The bottom line was that following her mother’s primrose path had left her build horribly unbalanced and fragile. Even with her recently boosted Vitality that had just locked in 200 desperately needed health and the ability to regenerate, thank god for that, when it came to facing down even a level 10 opponent without her wands… she was as good as dead. And with her Quickness no greater than it had been as a mortal, because why waste points in Quickness, or Finesse, or Strength, when all she would be doing is casting ritual spells over a battle field? She was painfully certain that any level ten adventurer with any sort of focus on speed would be able to strike her dead before she could unleash a single blast from her wand.

And why the fuck had she listened to her mother and not at least put a flood of points into Vitality, after getting shot in the fucking neck? Vitality and Quickness, and maybe some Perception to see shit coming in time to react. Why the hell didn’t she invest any of the 48 points she had been husbanding into all of that? With assassins actively gunning for her, why hadn’t her mother absolutely insisted she pour a flood of potential into each of those vital, survival-based stats, months ago?

Elonia clenched her trembling fists, blinking away the hot sting of unexpected tears.

His brother had been right.

She was nothing but a piece on her mother’s board of conquest, spanning god knew how many worlds.

And all too easily sacrificed for even the slimmest chance of Aurelia achieving her dreams of conquest, here on Earth.

Her voice, when she next spoke, was barely a whisper. “X03. Acknowledge that I am both Contender and leader of the Sylvan Faction.”

Her heart was pounding. Should her AI hesitate for even a second… she’d be forced to accept that she was nothing but a not entirely intact virgin trapped in the dragon’s den, and her best move forward, her only move forward, would be to race to Eric’s chamber and flee this territory together, before the tyrant revealed her true face and enslaved them both to her will, no longer bothering with pretexts and niceties.

Much to her profound relief, the AI didn’t hesitate to answer.

“Elonia Silver is both a Contender for Subjugated Planet 6783Y and leader of the Sylvan Faction on said planet.”

Elonia swallowed. “Is it true that I have the power of life and death over all my subjects? And may raise or elevate them, direct or kill them, as I choose?”

“This is correct. All your subjects are oathbound to your service. Unless they successfully flee to a chartered neutral territory and declare their independence, you have absolute authority over all your citizenry.”

Elonia sighed in relief.

“Note. There are three individuals lawfully exempted from your authority within your Domain.”

Elonia nodded, already knowing as much. But still… best to be sure. “Please reveal these exceptions.”

“The adventurer Smith Jones, a Basic Conscript who has unlocked a Healing Virtue and is currently in your employ for room, board, and 1000 credits per week. He is obligated only to heal to the best of his ability, and may be dismissed at any time. Your sibling Eric Silver, who has Guest Status within all territories held by the Sylvan Faction (granted by your mother and co-authorized by you). He is under no obligation to stay, and Guest Rights may only be revoked, with notification given, should he do you or your faction deliberate harm, or leave your territories.”

Elonia nodded. That much she knew.

“Aurelia Silver. A Silver Tier Ascended who serves you in an Advisorial Capacity. You hold no direct authority over her, but you may dismiss her at any time.”

Elonia’s heart started to race. “What happens if I dismiss her?”

“Should you dismiss Aurelia Silver, she will be immediately abjured to her Winter Court. Warning! Aurelia Silver is your only means of levying additional Sylvan troops at this time. Aurelia Silver further benefits from over 1000 years of experience in the fields of conquest and intrigue. Dismissing your adviser is NOT recommended.”

Elonia bit her lip.

Damn it! For all that she was furious with her mother… Aurelia was still her mother. The woman who had birthed her, taken care of her, and seemed to love her, for the most part, over the last 19 years. The only time she had left her side was when she had come damn close to being trafficked by a monster of a man Elonia had once thought loved her. A man she had harbored so many revenge fantasies about, it wasn’t even funny.

Then Eric killed him.

Her twin and the woman who had given birth to them. Both fearsomely savage beneath their playful smiles. Both of them more than capable of killing anyone who crossed them. His brother’s skin was just so much thicker than their high-strung mother’s, so it was all too easy to see him as nothing more than a harmless goofball. And they were the only real family she had.

She shook her head, furiously wiping away her tears.

She didn’t want to exile her mother.

She wanted her mother to treat her like a child she cared for and loved. Not a piece upon a fucking conquest map.

“Goddamn do I wish it were all a misunderstanding. That my mom wasn’t willing to bet my life on a 20% chance of a payoff.” She hung her head. “But I just can’t take that chance.”

She took a deep breath. “AI X03. Aurelia Silver no longer has access to accurate logs of my location, or my use of these facilities.”

She blinked in surprise when the pod resonated with unexpected acquiescence.

“Declaration noted.”

She took a deep breath. “Let the records show, to everyone, that I’m still in my rooms. Maybe… yeah, let mother think I’m making use of a hidden stash.” She chuckled bitterly. “She probably thinks I’m doing just that anyway. Maybe she isn’t quite as vicious as I feared. Maybe she’s just putting the fear of god into me. Or at least, fear of my being completely cut off.”

“It is done.”

Elonia flashed a bleak smile. “Good. As Contender, I’m hereby ordering that no one gets access to my whereabouts unless I say otherwise… and anyone revealing your records of usage will see no trace that I was here.”

“AI X03 acknowledges your orders… Contender.”

Elonia flashed a sharp smile, wondering if maybe, just maybe, her AI approved of her finally taking charge. Even if only of her own destiny, if nothing else.

“Good. Then I think we’ve delayed long enough, don’t you?” She took a steadying breath.

It was time to take the plunge.

“Initiate Mage’s Tower Protocols. Pull up saved configurations of the 22 fast-cast spell variants I’ve stored. It’s about time I made all my fantasies about being a kickass adventurer a reality.”

“Warning. These files have been sealed.”

Elonia’s eyes blazed with sudden heat.

“Then by my authority as a Contender and leader of the Sylvan Faction, I order you to unseal them!”

“Done.”

Elonia shuddered with relief.

“Good. Aurelia Silver no longer has permission to alter saved files or settings… or to use this facility at all. Not without my express permission, anyway."

“Your order has been noted.”

It was good she had come to her resolution in time.

It was clear that her mother had already begun taking steps.

It was about time she started taking some of her own.

Elonia flashed a relieved smile when she opened her eyes to find herself back in her favorite training program, wearing black robes with a wand in her hand, sitting at a desk behind a gaggle of kids dressed just like her. Half of them were whispering about some group of wizards that wanted to overthrow the empire, while her favorite teacher, more ghost than man, but a gracious instructor nonetheless, continued lecturing in his animated tone, making full use of the magical chalkboard in front of the class.

She grinned as she always did when she gazed up at the candles twinkling from the candelabra high overhead, hanging on chains of black iron from the vaulted ceiling, the grand oaken crossbeams polished to a warm golden hue. She could only wonder if there was ever a Terran school that had anything like these soaring ceilings.

A quick glance to her left through the floor to ceiling window gave her a glimpse of dozens of kids darting about in broomsticks over a lush green field bordering a proper English forest, for all that Elonia was damn certain there was no place like this on Earth.

Except, of course, in movies so like the ones she had once wanted to star in.

Not for the first time, she wondered what it would be like to push this arcane program to the point that she was actually flying on those broomsticks, whooping for joy. Of course, if she actually managed to accomplish her goal here today, that just might become a very real possibility. The flying part, anyway.

“Elonia, so glad you could join us today!” Said the ephemeral teacher with a friendly nod. “And now, to continue our lecture on Fast Cast Combat Spells every adventurer should know!”

Elonia frowned down at the massive tome on her old-fashioned wooden desk.

The ghostly wizard at the front of the lectern cleared his throat, as several students with much slimmer tomes open at their desk pointed her way and snickered, save for a pimply-faced kid with glasses and a scar, who gave her a thumbs up.

“Fair warning, my dear,” said their instructor. “That’s one of our advanced tomes. All the spells within have been elevated to the 40th rank.” He flashed an oddly pitying smile. “It appears that your brother’s mistress has taken an unexpected interest in force-blooming your soul.”

Elonia felt a shiver race down her spine when too-intent eyes gazed into her own. “What you have in your hands is the final treasure that was locked away in Death’s Tower, and a true prize many a struggling student would kill to claim for themselves. Opening that tome within your training facility will cost you a full 22 points... and your facility. I’m afraid your classes will thus come to an end, after this semester. But at least we can assure that you will survive your courses. No small thing, when daring your brother’s path, even for a single season.”

The students around her snickered and giggled at those words.

“I heard her brother isn’t a proper wizard at all! He twists cultivation magic into flaming trees,” whispered one dark-haired student.

“Didn’t he summon hundreds of nurses with oversized breasts and healing milk? Clearly he’s one of those otaku nerds,” said another.

“I heard he slept with death. How the hell do you sleep with death?”

“Didn’t he kill 15,000 orcs and raise them from the dead? Our Dark Arts instructor would love to meet him! Assuming he doesn’t try to kill the boy.”

Elonia, cheeks blazing, let the words wash over her, more certain than ever that this was an actual class, somehow. She used to enjoy the conceit of imagining herself a hologram in a high magic world that had been integrated long ago, for all that she was really just making use of her training pod. Now she wasn’t quite so sure that her flight of fancy hadn’t been dead-on accurate.

She sighed.

There were so many questions an anxious part of her wanted to ask.

Instead, she bowed her head before to her instructor.

“I’m willing to pay the price,” she said, before giving a sharp startled cry as a flood of limitless potential, of all the things she could have done, the countless versions of herself that she could have been, poured out of her soul when the tome clicked open before her.

But she spent only a moment mourning her ephemeral loss, before being captivated by the golden words flowing down the vellum pages… and directly into her soul.

Choking back a scream as the memories of countless wizards fighting for their lives overwhelmed her. Their final moments, perfecting deadly terrible magics just before they were brought down by enchanted swords, poisoned daggers, or waves of caustic flame.

Her screams became equal parts agony and bliss as she was repeatedly slashed, stabbed, gouged, throttled, and blown to pieces. Endless torments suffered while her brain greedily devoured the final insights of panicked mages unleashing unholy fury in desperate last stands, as countless years worth of experience and wisdom, along with the dying memories of over a score of murdered wizards, suddenly became her own.