“Okay, apprentices,” the professor said, clapping to get their attention back. “Today, we’ll need to skip the break if we’re to have any hope of finishing our intended material. I know all of this is very shocking, and that there’s still much left unspoken that you will need to find out yourselves. The optional lectures are a great place to start. But for now, we need to keep going!”

  A bar of blue, orange and white appeared next to the square.

  “I was going to go into the numbers first, but since we’re talking about houses and spirits, let’s talk about two other things first. Time tracking and aethermancers,” he said.

  Time tracking? Nar asked, frowning. What else do we need to know about that?

  “As I mentioned before, the knowledge granted to you by the System can be whimsy, for lack of a better word, which can result in the loss of a lot of crucial, and oftentimes basic knowledge,” Professor Thim told them. “And so, to ensure we’re all on the same page, let’s just quickly and briefly add some more to time tracking. There are 14 months in the year, each of them with 35 days, divided into 5 weeks, for a grand total of 490 days a year. And if you might have wondered at the coincidence between having 14 months and having 14 Great Houses, then you’re spot on!”

  Really? Nar thought. That’s why?

  “Each month corresponds to one of the Great Houses. Right now, we are on the 17th of Karolinos, Year 64387. Karolinos is the name of one the 14 Great Houses, under the leadership of the Goddess Karo. And as for our era… Well, those are not counted,” the professor said, and Nar noticed how he almost shrugged, but caught himself just in time. “We live in the eternity of the Radiants. Countless eras have gone past, and infinite more will come to pass. At the end of each era, there is what we call the Great Reset. That means that all the data and information gathered and stored across the System and the entirety of the Nexus will be written over, starting from the oldest.”

  “But then, we’re just forgetting everything…” Cen said, her voice wavering with either shocked sadness or stumped rage. Maybe both.

  “So it goes with time tracking in the Nexus,” Professor Thim said. “And so it goes with knowledge. Much is forgotten and much is rediscovered and uncovered anew. In this way, the Nexus never stagnates.”

  “But we never advance either!” Cen said.

  “Hey… Not so loud,” Mul whispered to his sister. He looked shocked that he was the one scolding her for once.

  “And that is that. You all have access to the calendar through your UIs, it should’ve integrated seamlessly with your Scimitar schedules. If it didn’t, as it might happen on rare occasions, speak to a member of the faculty and we’ll get it sorted,” their teacher said. “Make sure to also look for the Radiant Days and other holidays, which are usually times for festivity and relaxation! Yes, even aboard the Scimitar sometimes!”

  He chuckled at that.

  “Right, onto aethermancers then. As the Master of Aura mentioned to you, the whole of the Nexus is, unfortunately, completely powered by aether. This means that everyone needs aether, and for that to happen, everyone needs to be bonded to a spirit, and thus, be what we call a class holder. Of course, the vast, vast majority of people do so just for the access to aether, and they hold what we call the non-combat classes, or professional classes. These are your chefs, artists, programmers, researchers, construction workers, ship builders, and yes, myself, your very teacher.”

  “No way,” Mul said.

  “Yes. You must have been wondering why we emphasize the combat part when talking about classes, and this is why. To give you myself as an example, I started out with a basic class, as we all do when we are kids we bond with our first spirit at 2 years old. Then, when I was older, I became a student of various levels of education until eventually I entered the workforce. My first professional class was [Assistant Teacher of Social Sciences], then [Teacher of Social Sciences], and later on, after more studies, I eventually became a [Professor of Social Sciences], which is when I joined Tsurmirel, nigh on twelve years ago… But what does it mean, exactly, for me to be a non-combat class?” he asked the rows of stunned silent students. “Do I get gains and levels and experience like you do? Yes, I do. By performing actions related to my profession I level up just like you do, but at a much lower rate. In terms of level, if you stay for the full two year delve, by the time it's over, you will all have far surpassed me in level. And even now, you will all have far more attributes per level than I do. This is what we call attribute density, and it’s normally far, far higher in the combat classes than the professional ones. It is also why, provided you’re not killed obviously, combat class holders live longer.”

  “Like the Ol’Beast…” Tuk whispered.

  “Exactly!” the professor said, looking up at them. “The Ol’Beast, the God of Lightning, is the most extreme example of this. Crystal knows what kind of absurd [Constitution] he has, but the man has been alive for almost one hundred thousand years and across two eras! And this is a fact, well documented and verified by the System and Church itself. As for myself, and other non-combat class holders, I gain in [Constitution] too, but exceedingly rarely, and shall live a much more normal lifespan.”

  The shocked silence over the auditorium became almost deafening.

  “Now, now,” the man said, smiling brightly. “You guys may live longer, but I won’t have to worry about something eating me alive in a dungeon, or using me to lay eggs in. Nor will I be called upon to put my life on the line in the defense of the Nexus either. That feels like a fair deal to me, no?”

  A few nervous chuckles echoed flatly across the room. Nar looked away from their professor, unsure of what to think.

  “Besides, what I mean by a normal lifespan is already much longer than you expect, given the conditions in your cubeplants,” the man said. “And if I wanted to live longer, I would’ve done something to earn it. As it stands, I’m more than happy with my few attributes, especially the [Hearing] and [Sight] that allow me to keep on top of you all!”

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  And with that he chuckled, and Nar found himself smiling despite himself.

  I suppose it’s a fair trade, he thought. Though, I wouldn’t have minded it if it was all the same…

  “So, that’s how it goes for us aethermancers,” the professor said, rubbing his hands together. “Most people will change their bonded spirits when they move out of their parents’ homes, and then bond themselves to a new spirit in their neighborhood, joining and worshiping at any number of local churches, shrines, chapels, temples, sanctuaries, and on and on. You only really change your bonded spirit besides that if you change into a combat class, for professional advancement, or for fashionable and preference reasons. Of course, changing spirits for such frivolous reasons costs experience, but for the fashion conscious, it’s well worth the price! For the not so well to do people, the little neighborhood spirits are more than enough.”

  “And that brings us into the numbers at last,” he said, smiling gleefully. “Anyone want to guess the percentage of combat classes to non-combat classes in the Nexus? Hands up, come on. Over there?”

  “20%,” an apprentice ventured.

  “Nope. Over there?”

  “25%?”

  “Also no. There?” he asked, pointing at a third apprentice.

  “30%!”

  He chuckled. “Lower your hands, I can see that the trend is incremental. However, it is also going in the wrong direction. The percentage of combat classes in the Nexus is stable at slightly above 7%.”

  “No way!” someone shouted behind Nar.

  “So little?” Nar asked, frowning. “That can’t be right.”

  “That’s crazy…” Cen whispered. “That little? But we saw all those ships the other day!”

  “I see you’re surprised!” the professor said from below. “But why did you expect that number to be higher? Think about your own cubeplants! How bad is it there, and how many youths like yourselves actually choose to leave and brave the Climb in order to reach the O-Nex?”

  The auditorium silenced at his question.

  “He’s right,” Gad said. “Very, very few.”

  “There were what, twenty parties when we left? Fewer?” Kur asked. “There were tens of thousands of people of our age in the cubeplant. Fewer than two hundred of us decided to leave...”

  “Wait, were there that many people in the cubeplant?” Mul asked.

  “There… Were?” Kur said, frowning. “It’s hard to know for sure. I didn’t have all that knowledge and perception from the System yet. But I think there were a lot of people in the cubeplant. Hundreds of thousands?”

  “Crystal…” Cen whispered. “That many?”

  “I guess it’s not something you ever think about,” Nar mused. “You go to work, you come home. You do your bit and that’s about it. You don’t really think about others much…”

  “Not at all. Unless you're in upper management,” Kur said. “But however many it was, his point stands. Even as bad as things were back there, and still are, not many people are willing to risk their lives for it. And isn’t it the same here? There’s no guarantee you’ll actually live that long, right? And for most people, would they even care about attributes and stuff? I mean, things… Things seem a lot better in the O-Nex. I know we were in a bad spot in that healer’s room, but considering everything we’ve seen on the ship, life's definitely better out here. A lot better.”

  “Why would you want to live such a risky life, you mean?” Cen asked.

  “Exactly.”

  Nar glanced at the professor, but he seemed happy to let them discuss amongst themselves with a beatific smile on his face.

  “Makes sense! Even the majority of the other Climbers will probably just go for a non-combat life, no?” Tuk pipped in, leaning in from the other side with Jul. “We’re… Well, we’re probably rare amongst Climbers too, aren’t we? Most will probably just want to find a nice place to live and settle down, I’d say.”

  “Who knows? Our choices seem more limited than for the ONs,” Gad rumbled. “But yes, that does sound like it makes sense. A life of delving is probably not for everyone. Far from it.”

  “Allow me to add some more data to the discussions,” the professor called from below. “You all have in-built, simple System calculators in your minds, so consider this… Across the entirety of the Nexus, there are about 560 trillion combat class holders, to keep it nice and round. I believe the System will give you the meaning of a trillion, but to properly understand it, remember that almost 50 thousand Climbers fought with you, at the Ceremony of Final Atonement. Survival rates vary widely across Ceremonies, but let’s say that it's usually around 40%. Not all Ceremonies have the maximum complement of about 50 thousand Climbers, but for now, let's assume that they do... How many times can you fit those 50 thousand into the combined 560 trillion combat class holders across the Nexus?”

  “11.2 billion times,” Cen said, faster than the rest of them. “That… That is a lot, isn’t it?”

  “Crystal…” Nar whispered. “Just how many people are there?”

  The Master of Aura had told him that there were quadrillions of people living across the Nexus, but even though he knew the meaning of such a number, he was struggling to understand it. To visualize and comprehend such a mind boggling, sheer, massive, endless quantity of people. And likewise, how big was the actual Nexus cube itself, that it was able to fit so many people on and in it?

  And how big is the Labyrinth, then?

  It shone a whole new light on the meaning of the words “infinite” and “endless”, a meaning that only kept expanding further and further.

  “Indeed, that is a lot of people, isn’t it," the professor asked, his tone almost reverent. “And if you consider that that is just 7% of all the sentients in the Nexus, that leads us to slightly above 8 quadrillion people! Now that is a big number, and it doesn’t even account for the unknown number of BNs down in the B-Nex! Even I cannot fathom the meaning of such a number of people! I’ve seen one or two million before, in sport events and concerts, but never anything bigger than that! You would have to join the great delves into the Deep Deep to see the amassed fleets and armies of combat class holders in order to be able to see and understand such numbers. Or join a raid, something you will learn more about soon enough.”

  Professor Thim made the screens disappear and the lights turned back on.

  “I believe that this is a good place to stop. My purpose with Nexus 101 was in conveying to you a sense and basic understanding of the Nexus and the Labyrinth, and I think that I have achieved that. You will receive a list of elective modules that you might want to take, on top of your mandatory curriculum, and I advise you to have a proper look at them,” the professor said. “There are many ways to build a path, and one has an infinite number of choices before them… So, learn as much as you can, so that you might make the best decisions for yourselves and your party.”

  “I will…” Kur whispered to himself, drawing a glance from Nar.

  “And, thus, to finish this lecture, before you go back to your… Hmmm, workouts,” the professor said, grimacing. “I leave you all with one last small, but pertinent bit of information. In the Nexus, nobody actually calls them experience points or even experience. We simply call it XP. The letters X and P, together. The X comes from the second and more pronounced letter in the word experience, and P comes from points… And with that, I hope to see some of you again on my elective modules. I promise you won’t regret coming along! For now though, good luck, and work hard!”

  “XP…” Nar said, trying out the word as Professor Thim exited the room.

  “I like it,” Mul said, standing up. “Short and simple. Why can’t everything be like that?”