I wake bright and early the following morning. Only a bit of pre-dawn light seeps in through the closed shades, and the only light in the rest of the room is the tiny diode of Chloe’s phone signifying that it’s being charged.

  The treasure contained within the lootbox was… honestly, underwhelming, especially after Armosi. A few more [Ether Canisters], some more powerful curative potions, both [Health] restoratives and those capable of curing System-imposed conditions like the drowsiness caused by Oneiros, and a pair of books.

  One of the two has a picture of a swan’s or maybe an angel's feather on it. I open it up and peruse its contents. It’s completely unreadable. Even though I’ve seen some of the individual glyphs before, they shift and contort in such a way that defies my attempts to decipher any meaning out of the text. I’d guess that Chloe can gain some use out of it, given both swans and angels are commonly associated with healing and healers.

  As for the other, the one with a picture of a wrench on it, I can read it just fine. In fact, I can read it as easily as I can read the English language. Rather than the System actively fighting me the way it was with the other book, this time, the System is actively aiding me in my understanding. No increase to my stats, and no new Skills, general or class, sadly.

  It's really, really weird; I don't think the words on the page were particularly insightful, but in the process of perusing the pages, I feel like my knowledge of glyphs and how to work with them has expanded considerably. Even stranger, once I finish flipping through the contents, the glyphs vanish, the teal glow of Ether vanishing from my [Ethersight] as the power and knowledge contained within finishes flowing into me.

  Knowledge that I'm all too eager to test out.

  But not just yet. Chloe is still sleeping on the other bed in the small room. Her breathing is calm and deep— I know not if she’s dreaming, but if she is, it’s very obviously a good one. I flicker on my [Ethersight] as I tiptoe around the room, gathering my belongings and making my way to the mess area for a much-needed breakfast.

  I’m impressed at how much my eyes have improved just since reaching Rank III in the Skill. My ability to make out mundane details isn’t quite as powerful as my ordinary daytime vision. In return, I am able to more easily make out small glyphs that appear on Chloe’s and my armor, weapons, and other gear.

  I can see how small connecting runes link the various glyphs on my [Blessed Sword], which continues to shine dimly when unsheathed. I can see the wisps of Ether that flow into my [Brigandine] and empower its various protective abjurations. Even my [Bandana of Swiftness] has new glyphs to experiment with. I notice the [Impulse] glyph, along with another that I suspect modulates its resistance to Wind-based attacks. And more of these various linking runes that I just don’t understand yet.

  My stomach growls. I blush, but thankfully, Chloe remains asleep. No sense trying to do glyph research on an empty stomach.

  I make my way down to the mess area. My eyes light up when I see the massive portions awaiting me. So many, many eggs and breakfast-fried potatoes. I take extra scoops of each, sprinkled with cheese and a side of ketchup, and make my way over to an empty table near the back of the hall.

  I don’t waste a moment as I shovel the first bite of my eggs into my mouth. But I quickly regret it. Delicious, but way saltier than I had anticipated. I cough and wheeze as the scratchiness in the back of my throat demands satiation. I want to rush through the crowd to get a pitcher of water. I restrain myself, if only just, and wait through a hellish forty-five seconds before I finally am able to quench my sodium-induced thirst.

  Another long guzzle of water and I return to my meal. Good goddesses above, this food might not be the best food from an objective sense, but compared to hardtack rations back in the dungeon, this might as well be ambrosia. My restless stomach demands more even as I finish what must be nearly a full pound of heavy, greasy, delicious food, but I stop myself against my primal brain’s demands. I don’t need any more, and if by chance I actually do, I’ll survive the fifteen minutes or so it will take for my stomach to register as such.

  I’m greeted by a pair of familiar faces, one friendly, and one considerably less so. Anna sits down next to me, warming the air around her with her very presence, while Jackie sits across from the two of us, immediately dispersing that warmth and friendliness with nothing more than a petulant glare.

  “So, if it isn’t the traitor to kin and country alike,” Jackie says. “I’m surprised you have the gall to show your face around here.”

  Anna opens her mouth to interject, but I cut her off.

  “My loyalty is to my conscience and my friends, not to whatever cocksucker decides to declare himself in charge, whether they call themself president, king, dictator, or whatever else.”

  “You are supposed to be a soldier, Sera. I don’t care about your civvy conscience. Around here, we do what we’re ordered to do, because people die when we don’t.”

  “So what? You want me to build you more weapons so you can kill even faster?”

  Jackie sneers.

  “Whatever weapons I build are going to be for me and whoever I trust. Because I’m the one who’s going to have to live with the consequences of whatever those weapons might do in whoever’s hands they might end up falling.”

  “All so you can prance around like a little holier-than-thou bitch about how you’re so innocent and good and righteous and–” Jackie spits onto my empty plate and gives me the single-fingered salute. “Up yours, you arrogant–”

  “That’s quite enough,” Anna says. “Sera has her own reasons for what she does, and it’s not fair to her to–”

  “Why the hell do you think it’s okay to defend her? We fight together or we fall together!”

  “That’s enough, both of you!” We all three turn around to see Nicholas standing there. In contrast to his iron-wrought battle garb, he’s now wearing the glasses and lab coat of a chemist or physician. He adjusts his glasses slightly as he approaches our table.

  Jackie’s fists are clenched and she’s already got her right arm pulled back slightly as though she’s about to deliver a payload directly onto my forehead. And without most of my gear, it’d hurt like hell. Probably not enough to kill me in a single blow, but her class is all about unarmed combat, quick movements, and martial arts. Without the level advantage in her favor, I’d have a difficult time of things should the situation deteriorate to blows. With it factored in, I know I’d not stand a snowball’s chance in hell.

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  Cooler heads prevail as Jackie exhales and sits back down. The glow in Anna’s hands dissipates, and I take another sip of water before I inadvertently say or do anything that causes further offense. Nicholas sighs loud enough for all four of us as he approaches me, nodding and offering me his hand as he stops.

  I stand up and reciprocate the handshake. “Good morning, Nicholas,” I say. “Is there something you need from me?”

  “Yes, and no. I think this conversation would benefit from a little privacy. If you wouldn’t mind coming with me.”

  I nod, grab my stuff, and follow him out the door and into the nearby compound. Nicholas scans his ID card to unlock the door, and once inside, he then exchanges a few coded words with the secretary sitting at her desk in the front lobby. He nods, writes something down on his computer, and then waves us inside.

  A bunch of small offices are scattered throughout the complex. Judging by the small size and relatively modest furnishings straight out of an IKEA or whatever the military equivalent would be, I imagine they’re mostly for lieutenants and enlisted officers, not the senior staff of the facility. We walk past all of them and into one of the larger offices near the very back of the building. Nicholas sits behind the desk, gesturing to me to sit down at the small and rather uncomfortable-looking chair on the near side.

  “Please, relax, Sera. You’re not in any trouble, legally or otherwise. And the conversation isn’t particularly private, either. I do want to talk to you, and I needed a good excuse to get you and Jackie away from one another before I ended up with a court martial on my plate.”

  “Your plate?”

  “I didn’t mention before that I’m a Major? On paper, at least, I’m the one running these expeditions into the wilds.”

  “And Alexey?”

  “Former Master Sergeant, twenty-four years in the service to my nine. He’s been in more battles on the front lines than the rest of us put together. I might be the [Tactician] and the commander on paper, but I know well enough to defer to him in every way that matters. That’s one of the things they teach you in officer school, by the way, though it usually takes a few years for us to really learn it first-hand. We have the ranks and the authority on paper, but authority on paper doesn’t mean half a damn when the shit starts flying. Plus, my class is about as useful as a space heater down in Death Valley without a squad backing me up.”

  I nod. “So, what did you want to talk with me about?”

  “Well, I’m not going to be as brusque about it as Jackie, but I don’t disagree with her in spirit. We could use better gear to outfit everyone, and you’re more knowledgeable about that sort of thing than anyone else here is.”

  “But–”

  “I understand your hesitation. And, as I alluded earlier, I understand you well enough that ordering you to do something is the surest way to get you to do exactly the opposite.”

  I can only shrug my shoulders. Damn [Tactician] insights playing me like a fiddle.

  “Lindsey reported back last night after the two of you returned to quarters. Said the three of you cleared the dungeon just south of town.”

  I nod before muttering out a pathetic, “Yes, Sir.”

  “At ease. You and Chloe aren’t military, even if you have been working alongside us. With that said, you in particular seem to have a particular knack for fighting under the System, something that Lindsey’s report has confirmed.”

  My face goes white. Did Lindsey manage to piece out my actual class name? Does she know about my Unique Trait and what it does, or worse, its description? My mind starts to spiral, but Nicholas interjects before it gets any worse.

  “Rest assured, whatever secrets you may have will be discreetly swept under the rug. Not even a hint of them in an incident report to senior command.”

  “That’s oddly generous. Suspiciously so. I take it there’s a catch.”

  “Completely unflappable, even under pressure. Even without a soldier’s training, you have a soldier’s discipline. No catch on this one. Consider it a gesture of goodwill freely given as reward for a job well done, both on the patrols as well as clearing out a dungeon. Gives us a full week at least where we don’t have to worry about anything crawling out to cause trouble.”

  “Assuming the System isn’t lying about the recharge time. Then again, it didn’t seem like anything was even trying to crawl out in the first place.”

  “Always have to plan for the worst case scenario. Half my job before the arrival of the System was, well, systems analysis. We imagine problems, have the soldiers drill through our standard operating procedures, and identify the strengths and weaknesses of our current approaches. We do what works, but never for a minute assume that we’ve thought of everything, or that improvements can’t be made.”

  “And I’m one of those improvements?”

  “Well said. Plenty of people at my rank and higher are trying to rely on procedures and policies that were developed for a world that, quite frankly, no longer exists. Sure, we’re still on Earth, to some extent, but are we really? Monsters that we can’t fight now roam the landscape. Communications and alliances are asunder. Our entire bookshelf of military doctrines? Ruined. Useless for anything more than kindling.

  “Like I said, I’m not going to try to force you or anything. But your country needs you. Hell, this whole planet might need you.”

  I laugh off the obvious attempt at flattery. “I’m far from the only [Mechanist] in the city. Even if it’s not a common class, I’m sure you’ve got more than a few grease monkeys who can help you design all the new weapons you need for whatever it is you’re planning to do.”

  “Oh, sure, I’ve got a handful of [Mechanists] and similar. But you’re different. You’re bold, adventurous. Even that blowgun you have. The design is so wonderfully simple, and yet you managed to build something that can dwarf the destructive capability of tank cannons, let alone machine guns.”

  “For about twelve shots before I run out of juice.”

  “I’m sure that’ll change. You’re already thinking about how to move forward. It’s that drive that none of the others have. Quite frankly, it’s the reason why you can help me more than they all can. They’re trained to follow directives and orders. There’s an instruction manual, a doctrine, and they know the operating procedures and how to implement them. But doing something new, branching out, adapting? Trying ideas that make no sense, and slowly making sense of an entirely new branch of science and engineering? I don’t have a single soldier who can do any of that.”

  “And what kind of an offer do you want to make? Because I still have absolutely no intention of taking up a new class as an [Arms Dealer].”

  “I want to offer you full use of the laboratories on base, and whatever resources I can finagle from elsewhere to continue your studies and research. In return, we revisit this conversation after six months.”

  “I want to go on active assignments,” I say. “Research is all great, but we gain levels and Skill Ranks by actively using them in combat or other dangerous situations, not sitting behind a vanguard in a laboratory.”

  “That can be arranged.”

  “Seems like the terms are a little too good,” I say. “So what’s the catch?”

  “After six months, you prepare whatever treatises you can on the development of Ethertech, as you call it. No need to deliver prototypes or anything to me or the military. You just do whatever research you can, and you can wipe your hands clean of whatever weaponry we end up developing.”

  This proposal is… reasonable. Principles, ideas, general precepts. I’m sure he’s already figured out plenty, just from watching me do my thing. And I’m sure they’re going to keep surveillance on me. Then again, they’re going to do that no matter what I do at this point. He’s decided I’m too valuable of an asset, and he’s ensnared me perfectly into his trap. Might as well get the resources and opportunities that he’s going to avail me of.

  I curse myself. Screw the army and screw the cops, and here I am, working for the bastards. Damn it all to the nine hells indeed.

  “I guess that’s about as good as I’m going to get,” I say. “I want to talk things over with Chloe and hear her counsel on the matter before I formally commit.”

  “Wonderful. I’ll smooth things over with Jackie, let her know that you’ve decided to help us out after all.”

  “I– Thank you, Nicholas,” I mutter as I acknowledge the dismissal I’ve been given.