As he watched these visions play out, he bled out, his brain eroded. His life force flickered.

  He also healed, but death came faster than health. He had forgotten what he was supposed to be doing here, but he'd chosen.

  It was his whole thing. Reliability. If his life were a path, Rafael Kingsley only really wanted to be competent. Competent enough to be wanted, to be needed, to not be abandoned. Like a simple swordsman with the simplest sword swings. He was not the strongest by a long shot, but he belonged at the top. His whole bearing was a testament to the effort he'd put into this.

  The vision played out before him again. And again, and he forgot everything aside from the swings. He forgot everything about his life, his near death, his family, his team, his girlfriend who sucked face with that annoying kid.

  What annoying little kid though? What family? He couldn't remember a damn thing. But he had to survive, and he had chosen to live.

  ****

  Six soul remnants watched a body float in the void, time suspended for it as it was for everything here. Their attention, though, was focused on the blue screen in front of them.

  Name: Rafael Kingsley

  Race: Human (lvl-)

  Class: N/A (lvl-)

  Health: 1/50

  Stamina: 35/50

  Stats

  Strength: 6

  Agility: 9

  Coordination: 7

  Vitality: 5

  Endurance: 5

  Intelligence: 3

  Wisdom: 4

  Paranormal: ???

  “Hmm,” the enchantress started while she rubbed her chin. “I’d never considered the potential people from Essence Deserts presented. This status screen screams raw potential, a blank slate, moldable clay. Why had we never tried this before now?”

  “I think it's pretty obvious why we've never tried that, En,” the red-haired damsel next to her spoke. “Having no essence at all, their bodies are weaker than even those of children. Look at his stats! It's a miracle he survived long enough to be extracted from the aperture. He's lucky we were so close.”

  “In any case, this boy is very interesting, very raw. Did you notice that skill he learned, before even unlocking the system? You cannot deny this boy is worthy of inheriting my path.”

  “No one is worthy, surely, of inheriting the genius of the multiverse,” a black-haired female spoke sarcastically. “It is just a skill. Skills are weak, regulated. You cannot compare this little skill to that bloodline ability you had.”

  “I never had a bloodline, nor innate ability, only one of us did,” the enchantress replied, staring at one of the males, the one who was most focused on the slowly healing body.

  “Yes, only one of us did,” the male spoke. “And I couldn't pass it on. Not through my blood, not through the mantle.” His voice was wistful.

  A man carrying a bastard sword on his back stepped forward.

  “Let me guess,” he said. “You think the boy might be able to carry it?”

  The first man shrugged. “I do. And it's not a bloodline, it's an innate ability.”

  “Same thing,” someone commented.

  "Why though? What makes him different from the millions that came before?" the swordsman continued to ask.

  "I'm not sure. I won't be sure until the process is completed, but that skill..."

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  He looked at the enchantress who was now frowning in concentration.

  She shrugged. "We'll see."

  "Great," the woman with a hood of shadows spoke. "That overpowered bloodline is going to make a bloody return, isn't it?"

  "It is not a bloodline," the enchantress said patiently. "It is an innate ability, hence why it cannot be transferred through something physical like blood." Then she frowned, turning to the First. "How do you intend to transfer it, if I may ask?"

  The man shrugged. "The librarian."

  There was a chorus of gasps.

  "But, the other lost weapons will—"

  "It has been a million years. I'm sure I've tamed them all well enough," The First said.

  "The librarian contains a piece of your soul then?" the enchantress asked.

  "Of course. Otherwise, it would be mist. All of them would be."

  "Why have you never considered this before?" she asked again.

  The man shrugged. "Time. We never had enough with any of the challengers."

  "Do not let hope blind you."

  "While all of that is interesting," the shadow monarch chimed in, "the boy did spend an awful amount of time in that spatial aperture. We could get him a spatial affinity easy as breathing."

  The gigantic winged man in the corner grunted, but other than that said nothing else. The red-haired woman decided to join him in his corner. They had no business joining in this particular discussion.

  “I wish to claim the boy. I have some theories I need tested,” the enchantress said.

  “Such a happy accident cannot be dismissed, this is surely fate!” the thief cried, trying her best to cause chaos as always.

  “I think his little skill might give me enough time to graft the librarian, and a piece of my soul onto him. At last, my bloodline—”

  “Hah! so it is a bloodline ability?!” the thief said smugly.

  “No, it's not!” the enchantress and the First answered together.

  The two stared at each other in surprise and appreciation, and they never noticed the thief looking at them and rolling her eyes, and mouthing something about geniuses having to die, and millennia-old virgins and the like.

  Someone cleared their throat.

  “So funny and selfless of all of you to make plans for my apprentice. But…he is my apprentice.”

  The enchantress groaned. “Come on, Noid. This boy would be perfect for an experiment I've been thinking of.”

  The swordsman shrugged. “You have so many hypothetical experiments, Enith, I'm sure you can think of one to carry out even after I've had the kid for a few decades, give or take a century.”

  “Century? Surely you don't plan to keep him under suspended time that long?” The First asked.

  “What does it matter? I trained for decades just to gain a little mastery of a never-ending path, and I am damn good at swords. No challenger can be here more than two years subjective time. This boy, if the skill grows right, might be able to last more. He's forgotten his damn past! He is perfect. I cannot give him up.”

  The other three groaned. They did have rules, and the boy had gravitated towards the swordsman. There was nothing they could do.

  “Well, a decade might be optimistic, but I'll hope for much more. Remember to block the system from him, will you Enith?"

  "What? Why?" the Shadow monarch asked.

  Noid, the swordsman, shrugged. "I never use the system in my trial.That kind of thing makes soft warriors, warriors always ready for their mother to bail them out. In our time—”

  “Yeah, yeah. The system did make me, you know?” the enchantress quizzed.

  Everyone in the room just stared at her until she snorted and clicked her tongue in annoyance.

  “There are other ways to fail the trials, especially yours Noid, aside from running out of willpower," The First Skyholm commented.

  Noid nodded. "A good point. But the boy will be stuck here until most of his body is healed, and how many years subjective is that? His damage is worse than most we've received, and he does have that initial magic resistance to wade through. Even if his mind cannot handle it, it will be hard for him to leave the void before his body heals."

  "Maybe that's why he got that skill?" the red-haired woman dared to chime in from across the room.

  "Maybe," Noid conceded. "In anycase, his lost memories might make him giving up unlikely."

  "And why is that?" The First asked.

  Noid shrugged. "Well what if he thinks this a real world and that all the stakes are real. He will be much more likely to power through every day."

  "You wish to withhold information from a trial taker!" the First bellowed.

  "Not permanently. Initially. To see what he does."

  "There are two problems I see with that," the enchantress spoke. "One, if the system is actively monitoring him...well. Two, he is practically immortal. Why would he take it seriously?"

  Noid scratched his cheek for a time. "I could convince him he is some kind of legendary hero chosen to save the world. Given immense power for that one purpose."

  The enchantress blinked at him in surprise. Then she shrugged and nodded her approval to The First.

  “Do you think the boy's mental state will survive the amount of time it will take me to graft the librarian onto his soul?” The First asked Noid.

  “Are you sure you want to do that? This is something you've held onto for a long time?” Noid asked.

  The first shrugged. "This has to be a sign. It has to be. Fate brought this child here, and why if not for that did we build these damn things? If not now, then when? When the system has existed a million years?"

  "Well, it will either work or it won't. He will either survive or he won't."

  Noid knew it was a little more complicated than that. The First would have to call in a few favours from his fellow remnants to get enough of the librarian back. He would have to convince them.

  The enchantress just scoffed, but she looked at the floating body with a little interest. There was already another experiment in her head, the swordsman was sure. She was always quick to bounce back.

  “Good,” The First spoke again. “You may start your training then. The rest of you should prepare your …gifts, for the latest trial taker. His circumstances do indeed seem ideal, but we cannot control what he'll do with our gifts.”

  All the excitement vanished from the god's faces. The thief was considering the matter seriously, but the swordsman was sure the enchantress was only thinking about the kind of data she could get from an evil powerhouse.

  He sighed as all six of them went their way, preparing for the first thing that might have interested them in eons.