“Come on, Eric. Let me take you through the Hall of Wonders. It’s this way!”

  Eric blinked, desperately trying to gather his thoughts as he was led along multiple dizzying corridors by an animatedly talking Marsha who truly seemed to come alive as the strode through ancient primeval forests, stormy oceans, endless deserts, and cottony clouds kissed a fiery hue by the setting sun. Yet he simultaneously knew that his feet had never left the polished marble corridors as his eyes were captivated by one breathtaking view after another, only a tiny corner of his brain worrying about how they had ever left the rooftop at all. They had made their way through the foliage and suddenly they were traveling between worlds.

  Then their odd journey through corridors that somehow echoed with overlapping realms of reality and living dream came to an abrupt end before the imposing oak edifice that could only be the headmaster’s door. An unmoving edifice of wood that Eric doubt even his strength could shatter without him putting higher order concepts into play.

  And perhaps not even then.

  Yet all it took was the slightest trembling touch of Marsha’s hand for it to open without a single creek, displaying the room within.

  The animated Marsha suddenly grew quiet, flowing into a low curtsy as they entered a grand chamber filled with bookshelves, a crackling fireplace, a grand polished cherry wood table, and multiple leather wingback chairs presently holding both queen and headmaster.

  Eric felt an odd frisson of wonder and bemusement, gazing at his sister wearing an elegant ivory white dress with a golden tiara offset by brilliant sapphires who was presently sipping tea with the headmaster, looking exactly as he remembered her, and simultaneously so much more.

  Flawless features filled with a sister’s love peered warmly into his stunned gaze, yet her beauty was far more than that. She had well and truly transcended as a ruler, it was obvious from her every movement and gesture, even if her physical attributes were in the thirties, far closer to the absolute limits of mortal man than Eric’s absurd scores. They were still beyond what any Olympian had ever achieved, and her beauty was so much more than the adorable features of a former Hollywood starlet.

  Hers was the regal countenance of a queen who was now at one with her land.

  Even if she was gazing at him with the exasperated affection of a sister who had clearly been worried for her closest kin.

  Yet even as he helplessly tried to think of what to say, his eyes were drawn to the warmly smiling man who radiated both advanced age and the ageless vitality of an ancient oak tree, stormy grey eyes twinkling with warmth and welcome, for all that he radiated the unbridled power of a Silver.

  Not simply a Bronze with potential or a half-step wonder on the cusp of greatness… but an actual Silver. Not surprisingly, Marsha was doing all she could not to fall into a swoon as the potent might of a being powerful enough to conquer a continent gazed upon the trembling girl with a grandfather’s benevolence.

  “Thank you, Marsha. You have done well. I very much look forward to seeing your star shine brightly in the semester to come.”

  “I... yes, Headmaster!” Marsha anxiously squeaked, giving the room one last curtsy and Eric an unreadable glance before fleeing with all the grace she could.

  Eric’s thoughts were whirling as he gazed into the warm smiling features that made him think of such august personages of fantasy and film as Gandalf, Belgarath, Merlin, and countless others. The warm twinkle in the headmaster’s eye made it clear that he understood and was both touched and amused by what had no doubt been the awe and adulation of any prospective student who truly understood the force of nature and magic before them, guided and nurtured by the gentle benevolence of a favored grandparent eager to see all his grandchildren in the arcane arts flourish and succeed.

  Eric blinked away the mist in his eyes, his sister’s indulgent smile making it clear she understood his state exactly.

  “Wow, my brother at a loss for words,” she said with a gentle smile. “I never thought I’d see the day when—”

  “Wormy two! How are you, man? You’ve definitely leveled up with some of that Endless Bounty goodness our master loves to give out, haven’t you? Kudos, bro!”

  Everyone froze. The room grew deathly quiet as Eric’s bunny flopped across his now naked curls, mithril armor instinctively stored away when he had strode the corridors feeling like a kid lost in the most wondrous of dreams… and his bunny really was incredibly soft and furry and Eric thought his cheeks would blaze at the way his sister was looking at them both, having absolutely no idea what his familiar was talking about.

  Elonia had clearly been caught of guard to see that he had a familiar at all, yet even she sensed that Bunny had just crossed the greatest of lines without a care in the world and Eric halfway expected the entire chamber to erupt and it did as golden peels of laughter emanating from the Gandalf-like figure who might have nothing on Eric’s now Ascended mother but who could wipe out an entire fleet of carriers and destroyers and how the heck had so much power been unleashed with a single ascended territory? But of course he knew how… as Marsha’s dreams had made so painfully clear, reminding Eric once more of the terrible stakes they played for as the room filled with gentle mirth, the twinkling grey eyes of the headmaster that of a man who found a bunny’s quips both charming and outrageously funny.

  “Eric Silver. It truly is a pleasure to make your acquaintance at last.”

  Eric, heart hammering, didn’t hesitate to bow low, honoring what he knew damn well, all niceties aside, was a sovereign lord in whose domain he had been made welcome.

  “We are honored to meet you, revered Headmaster.” Eric glared up at his smirking familiar still flopped on his sweaty curls. “Isn’t that right, Bunbun?”

  “Absolutely! Because now we can finally learn magic at a real honest-to-goodness magic academy! And unlike the delves of Ashland, this isn’t barred to you! You pulled so many souls free of nightmare that now it’s nearly seven million people holding up this glorious pillar of eternity, not just your sorry ass!”

  Eric froze mid-bow with those words. Because in his heart of hearts… he had wanted so desperately to believe that maybe there was a way he could capture that dream of innocence and wonder he had seen in Marsha’s eyes. Yet after enduring countless lost opportunities that forever seen just a single twist of irony or mischance away from becoming reality, repeatedly denied access to spiritual treasures and realms, forced into one perilous encounter after another, compelled to imperil his life against ever-more insane odds… with even his precious cultivation tomes torn from his grasp before he could even learn a single bloody movement technique… he had come to the bitter conclusion that he would forever be denied any access to carefully harvested wisdom at all.

  Yet the sweet, dark boons he had received in turn, his own perilous path serving as the crimson fount to so many profound insights and an astoundingly explosive path to growth and peerless power, sufficient to tear through an entire fleet of interstellar dreadnoughts when he had set his very core ablaze… had served as a balm both bitter and impossibly sweet for the countless opportunities to learn and blossom and grow in anything but the crucible of conflict having been uniformly torn from his grasp.

  Yet here and now, with the way the headmaster was looking at him with a bemused half-smile as if holding onto a delightful secret, and the way his exasperated sister looked on the cusp of saying something before Eric’s goofy familiar who was so much like him in so many ways that he and the Lilly of before probably would have been an item if reality had spun just a little bit differently… had managed to leave even his sister speechless.

  There was so much Eric wanted to say. So much he needed to do! Most especially hug his sister and tell her how much he loved her and how proud he was of her. Yet for some stupid reason the first words to leave his dry lips were…

  “Is it true? Can I actually learn magic?”

  And the twinkling eyes of both headmaster and his beloved twin made it clear that they knew exactly what he meant. It wasn’t just about learning how to use a trio of elemental wands, lessons he had embraced and was grateful for. Nor adding to his handful of powerful runes where he poured so much of his own fury and intensity to echo with primal meanings to transform the world around him, at least to a limited degree.

  It was about tapping into those glorious planes of magic and wonder that he had glimpsed just striding the halls to this very office, those alternate realities that were both as ephemeral as a dream and simultaneously more real, more profound, than the fragile corner of the universe he called home could possibly be.

  Elonia was positively beaming, he could sense the glorious affirmation on the tip of her rosebud lips. The headmaster leaned back in his leather recliner, sipping his tea while regarding Eric.

  “Our school has a unique path to mastery, Your Grace. It is a path that will open up avenues of power unlike anything that most self-taught wizards will ever experience.”

  His gaze grew oddly solemn, with a hint of what Eric almost thought pity.

  “Our school is in a most unique juxtaposition, infused with the promise of a world force-bloomed into the grandest of wonders...or the greatest of tragedies. We stand before greatness, on the cusp of something legendary, yet the cost is one that I fear, quite ironically, the young scions born of this world, most deserving of this academy’s gifts, will be least likely to accept.”

  Eric frowned at these words, tilting his head curiously. “Could you please elaborate?”

  The Headmaster smiled indulgently, before dipping his head to his sister.

  “It’s good to see you again, Eric.” Elonia said, touching his heart with her smile.

  Eric swallowed the lump in his throat, more relieved than he could possibly put into words to see his sister hale and healthy and glowing with hope. Not just hope, but excitement. Both for her ascension as queen of New Arcadia, he was sure, and equally so for the wonder clearly before them both.

  “I missed you too, sis. And I’m sorry I missed the coronation.”

  She chuckled softly, lifting herself from her seat, sedately stepping forward to clasp his hands with her own. His eyes widened in gentle surprise when she squeezed. Somehow simultaneously sensing both her 25 Strength, having blossomed so much from the healthy mortal she had been before… and the strength of a kingdom behind her grip.

  His eyes widened with awe. “Elonia… how?”

  Her eyes twinkled merrily. “The coronation, Eric. It was everything I could have hoped for. When I swore myself to the land… I became the land. And she became me as well, in ways I can scarce put into words. And I’ll forgive you for missing the coronation. I know better than anyone how much you enjoy pomp and ceremony.” She winked. “Thank you for saving us all.”

  Eric swallowed, stepping back and bowing his head in both deference and admiration. “You and New Arcadia are a perfect fit,” he said at last, and it was true. His sister was radiant with a superluminal glow, echoing the warmth, beauty, and wonder of this entire territory now the size and population of a small country.

  His words earned a throaty chuckle. “There is so much I would love to share with you, Eric. So many secrets and wonders!” Her gentle smile grew forlorn. “Alas, the one thing at a premium is time. As always, am I right?”

  Eric’s lips pressed together against the sudden twist in his gut. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing!” His sister hastened to assure. “It’s nothing like the desperate circumstances of before. It’s just… well, when the moons align, that’s when the semester will start, and there is no putting of classes her at Mistridge, no matter how deep your mother’s pockets, ha ha.”

  Eric chuckled at that. “Truly. So, tell me, the sensations I experience while striding the corridors by Marsha’s side… Is it what I think it is? All of it?”

  Elonia gazed at Eric intently. His heart raced at the profound look they shared before she dipped her head. “Yes, Eric. It’s true.”

  And with that one phrase, his questions were answered, his growing suspicions solidified in truth. This school was about far more than simply mastering how to use a handful of wands or arcane knickknacks or opening up what for some would be a magic-using class of one sort or another.

  If his sense of those realms of desert heat, an ocean’s might, endless aerie expanses, and lush vibrant forests was anything to go by…

  “The students here aren’t just learning to cast a better fireball or more efficiently use their wands. They’re learning something far more profound. Aren’t they?”

  His sister flashed a brilliant ethereal smile. “You’re so right, Eric. Our training goes far beyond wand maintenance and efficient casting. Here, the students will learn how to channel the primal forces of magic itself.”

  Eric’s eyes widened, instantly understanding. If the average mage was equivalent to a man using oars to row across a small lake of Mana, a Mistridge graduate would be learning how to fasten sails to the vessel of his will that would allow him to harness the mightiest of howling winds to blow him across the sea. Or harness the power of volcano to sweep an entire shoreline away. And all that was nothing at all compared to tapping into the potential locked away in every single elemental plane adjoining their reality.

  He shivered at the solemn nod Elonia gave him. “Exactly, Eric. The students will be learning how to commune with the primal elements directly. The very planes of their creation, their being. Whether the pristine elemental might of fire… or living dreams of image and perception where masters can turn dreams and fantasies to reality in truth. Any force of destruction and creation that you can imagine has its echo in the primal magical weave encompassed by all the various arcane techniques and elements.”

  Eric’s heart was pounding with excitement. The potential was beyond what even he had dared to hope. He licked suddenly dry lips, knowing there was a catch. That there absolutely had to be a catch! And he didn’t care. Not a bit.

  Because if there was even a chance that this could enhance what he thought it might… “Alright, sign me up.”

  His words earned a sigh from the headmaster. “I think it best you first explain the cost, my queen. And the benefits, in terms that our champion will best understand.”

  Elonia dipped her head. “Of course, Headmaster Wyrmwood.”

  Eric did a double-take.

  “Seriously?” Bunbun huffed from her favorite perch. “That’s the name were going with?”

  The headmaster’s smile didn’t so much as twitch before Bunbun’s quip, but Eric felt his cheeks flush all the same. “Bunbun…”

  “Sorry, fearless leader! Now let’s find out the bitter horrible cost or suicide mission we’ll have to accept before we get any of the sweet, sweet fruit we helped to bring about in the first place.”

  Eric scowled. “Weren’t you the one who said we’d finally earned a chance to enjoy some slice-of-life well-earned chilling, Lilly? Since this school was a lot more than just a territory transformation?”

  Bunbun snorted. “In your dreams! You know damn well that fate isn’t happy if we’re not covered in blood and roaring for freedom before the day is done… or fleeing for our lives or obliterating empires or whatever. Because when do we ever get to have nice things without some super-twisted catch?”

  Eric’s scowl deepened. “Fuck if you don’t actually have a point. And we don’t ever flee. We just tactically reposition ourselves.”

  “Sure, we’ll go with that.”

  “Damn right we will! If Eve hasn’t penalized it, it hasn’t happened.”

  “Eric!”

  “Sorry, what’s up, sis?”

  His sister gave him an oddly strained look. “You can become a student here, Eric.” She gave him a smile so filled with concern that he had to lower his gaze for reasons he could scarce put into words.

  “You’ve already done so much. Even if I have so little idea about the true scope… still, I feel it in my heart. You’re aloud to take a break. And yes, Eric. You can have nice things!”

  Eric gave his sister a relieved smile. “Thanks, Elonia. It… even if I don’t ever see myself slowing down, it really does feel nice to hear you say that.”

  “But Eric?”

  “Yeah?”

  “There is a cost.”

  Eric’s happy smile faded with a sigh. “Of course there is.”

  “Please, don’t be like that. You really can learn magic beyond anything that’s been revealed on Earth so far!”

  “Somehow, I seriously doubt that.”

  His sister’s gaze hardened. “It’s true.”

  “Okay, fair enough. So what’s the catch?”

  Elonia rubbed her eyes. “Why do I feel like this is going to totally play into your cynical outlook?”

  Eric smirked. “Because there clearly is a catch, and it’s a doozy, or you wouldn’t be prevaricating.”

  “I’m not prevaricating!”

  “Waffling, then.”

  “I’m going to hit you.”

  Eric smirked. “Sorry, sis. It’s… it’s been a really long couple of days. And it really is good to see you. So I’ll just shut my mouth and let you say your piece.”

  Elonia wrapped him up in her arms, giving him a heartfelt hug, smelling of lilacs, peppermint, and hope.

  “Jeezus, Eric! You smell like blood and steel and gunpowder and things I don’t even want to guess at. When was the last time you bathed?”

  “Do wind baths at four hundred miles per hour count?”

  “Not if the air resistance was kept so low that it barely ruffled your hair, fearless leader,” his bunny quipped.

  Elonia just gave him a look, before filling the air with lighthearted laughter. “It really is good to see you, Eric!” Her smile grew strained. “But yes, there is a cost, and it’s steep.”

  Eric took a deep breath, heart pounding with excitement and dread. “Okay, tell me.”

  “Okay, first the good news. You’ll gain access to Primal Arcane skills. Elements and techniques that help you master the fundamental elements of reality itself.”

  Eric nodded. “Like the primal five cultivation elements or those of a storm magus.”

  Elonia chuckled. “I think you’d be surprised by just how many different elements there are, in terms of overlapping planes of reality. They include mastery over plants and animals, bringing images to life, manipulating the bodies of faerie and man directly, and of course mastery over the physical elements themselves. Tied to that are mastering primal techniques of control, creation, destruction, and transformation.”

  Eric’s heart was racing as his sister’s lips curved in a teasing grin, drawing it out just as she used to back when they would do weekend gaming sessions, describing the glorious prizes Eric and his friends won when completing one of her dungeons. She loved to tease, and it was always worth the wait.

  “Eric… it’s more than that. Far more than that. Remember, you’re not just accessing the echo of a form copied by countless struggling mages on innumerable planets that the System allows us newly forged classers to tap directly into.” Elonia’s brilliant sea-green irises sparkled with wonder it captivated Eric to see, feeling suddenly dizzy, as if he were falling into twin worlds of a perpetually blooming New Arcadia, filled with warmth, laughter and boundless opportunity… and a howling winter storm without end.

  “You’re tapping into the primal planes of realty. You’re not just tapping into the System’s memory of a wizard’s fireball fueled by your own magic and whatever wisps of Mana the local region supplements with your own… you’re also tapping into the elemental plane of fire itself!”

  Eric clenched his hands into excited fists, visualizing himself channeling mighty elemental storms that could sweep over entire cities, or the armies of his foes. Every bit as powerful as his sister’s Doomtwister. Or it could be. One day. Yet as glorious as the image was, he still knew it to be pure fantasy, because there was always a catch.

  “And what will this cost me?”

  “Every rank of those arts that you earn will give you a bonus to all future spell use involving those Elements, Eric. Even the spells you know now!”

  Eric’s brow tightened, hating the anxiety, the worry he saw in his sister’s eyes. “Must be a pretty big fucking catch.”

  Headmaster Wyrmwood chose that moment to speak, the entire chamber vibrating ever so slightly with the arcane echo of his baritone voice. “And yet perhaps you will find it worth it, when you discover for yourself that Primal Art masteries will enhance even those abilities which various counsels absolutely rife with corruption have agreed have no place in this world, so we will speak of them not at all.”

  Eric froze, turning to gaze into the enigmatic gaze of the headmaster himself.

  His mind raced with questions to ask… but, truly, who would know better than him the deadliness of his most forbidden attacks? Even pretending that this benevolent headmaster wasn’t the reincarnation of a massive half-mile-long Titan Wyrm that had experienced firsthand the power of Eric’s essence-enhanced Fire Fist. And, to be fair, perhaps he wasn’t. Wormy II’s power had been off the charts. But the soul it had incarnated with when Eric had transformed this entire realm was clearly that of a practitioner both wise, and powerful enough to both run a Legendary-tier academy able to tap into the font of magicka directly… while radiating a Silver classer’s power.

  “So, it affects Qi Attacks, or powers based on spiritual energy as well.”

  Headmaster Wyrmwood dipped his head. “Indeed it does. Even a cultivator’s Spiritual Energy can be enhanced with Primal Arts, but this is definitely beyond most novice practitioners. Regardless, time, training, and diligent mastery of the fundamental forms will allow those with true talent to blossom far beyond the ken of lesser practitioners, even those who have already ascended a full tier above you.”

  Eric’s heart skipped a beat as the true significance of what the headmaster before him was saying.

  For a split second his mind danced back to those moments when he had truly ascended. Blazing across the heavens as a phoenix by his mother’s side. As powerful as he knew his flames were becoming with the right abilities and essences synergized for truly potent if not outright transcendent attacks that he dare not unleash, lest the entire corrupt global council immediately declare war with him… still, he knew its potential. Just as he knew as well that the incredibly sweet multipliers he had been able to cobble together were limited. His increase in power from this point on he feared would be incremental at best. The farthest thing from logarithmic. But if there was a way the blazing Phoenix that was his potential could tap into the very plane of fire and synergize it with higher order concepts of flame…

  His heart pounded at the thought of just how far he could go. Long before he ever hit Bronze, let alone Silver and Gold. And when he eventually achieved those milestones… assuming he even survived that long...

  “Are you serious?” he whispered. “Do you even know what this means? Forget White-Tier novices just desperate for a few effective spells. If harnessing those arts has as much potential as I think it does, that changes everything. Everything! Can you even imagine how many desperate Silvers might one day…”

  “Exactly,” Elonia said, reaching to squeeze his shoulder, right before picking up and petting Eric’s purring bunny. “Which is why Earth’s status, and the additional treaties signed to make sure that whatever third party violations might have occurred never happen again… is so vital. But even so, with so many powerhouses having already slipped through the cracks, Deep Bronze monsters and half-step Silvers that could utterly devastate our home and slaughter millions in their bid for power… this academy just might be the key to preventing disaster.”

  Eric blinked, suddenly getting it. “Wait… you’d, what, offer free scholarships to our legendary school here in return for promises of good behavior? And you’re not afraid they’d emerge even stronger, more deadly than ever?”

  Elonia flashed a cynical smile. “It’s not quite that simple, and you’re forgetting the best part.”

  “And that would be…”

  “All swear an oath to cause the queen and her realm no deliberate harm.” Her eyes blazed. “Which means that no matter what happens with the rest of the world, scores of outrageously powerful Contenders will be oath-bound to leave us be at the very least, and upon graduation, they will be expected to provide us at least token support to assure that the territory fostering the greatest marvel any of them ever experienced will never fall to a predatory outsider.”

  Eric grinned in genuine admiration. “You’ll be forming bonds of school spirit with the most powerful future Contenders on the continent. Powerhouses that, at the very least, will have sworn never to obliterate New Arcadia in their pursuit of power. Even if world conquest with so many powerhouses on the board is looking less and less certain, you’ll still be keeping your home, and the millions counting on you, safe. Considering everything we’ve been through this past year, how many times we rode the razor’s edge of oblivion, that’s a heck of a sweet boon. Well done, Sis.”

  Elonia paled and flinched. Eric’s cheeks flushed, suddenly recalling that only he recalled what had truly happened over this past year. For so many others… the actual past was no more real than a fading dream.

  She was graceful enough to turn her stumble into a graceful step back, her features once more a mask of calm equanimity. Somehow petting his familiar’s luxuriously soft fur seemed to ease away the final haunting flickers of nightmare from her once-more serene gaze. “Certainly knowing that our home will be an inviolate sanctuary in the hearts and minds of those who might otherwise destroy us far too easily is a weight off all our shoulders. But the non aggression accord doesn’t hold to conflicts between individual classmates. We don’t want any of our future prodigies feeling that this school is out to trap them or freeze their ability to progress, though their conflicts are to be fought only in sanctioned duels or other non-lethal encounters while they are attending, not in proxy wars devastating entire kingdoms. They also know better than to unleash attacks that might damage New Arcadia in general and the school in particular.”

  “Makes sense to me,” Eric said, eyes drawn inexorably toward the pots of tea and silver plates full of delectable-looking pastries on polished tables beside the leather chairs. “And I’m guessing in a school like this, those oaths hold a hell of a lot of weight.”

  Elonia’s smile didn’t reach her hard, knowing gaze. “You’re damn right it does. But there’s another catch as well. A catch that, I promise you, absolutely none of the future sector powerhouses from the most privileged of worlds or clans will hesitate to accept as a matter of course. Even seeing it as the tremendous boon that it is. And it’s a catch that I fear far too many of our fellow Terrans, so used to power-leveling and not realizing just how difficult and time consuming it becomes when inspiration and breakthroughs slow to a crawl… will hesitate to pay, even though they’re the ones who will truly benefit the most.”

  Eric swallowed at this, somehow just knowing that he was most definitely being considered as falling into that latter group.

  “Alright, so what’s the cost?”

  Elonia sighed, petting his bunny some more before placing it back on top of his unresisting head. “You’ve grown taller, Eric.”

  “Yeah, I hear it happens.”

  “Think Isekai, brother dearest. You get a fresh start and a new class. You start as an Arcane Conscript at level one.”

  Eric blinked once, before turning on his heel and walking out.

  “You get three points per level that you can put into any art you’re able to unlock! You will also earn one or more points per season that will naturally elevate your arts. Where are you going, Eric?”

  Eric turned around, gaze unreadable. “You have no idea how hard I’ve fought. How far I’ve come. What I’ve had to endure. The thought of throwing all that away…” He swallowed the awful lump in his throat. “I’m sorry, Elonia. That you’d even suggest that… maybe I shouldn’t have come.”

  His sister’s concerned gaze filled with sudden heat. “I know damn well how powerful you are, Eric. I’m the queen of this entire province, thanks to you! You’ll never know just how grateful I am, or how much you glow like the sun when you take your mask off, even for a second!”

  Eric’s features paled. “Wait, I radiate that much potency?

  “Among the elites you most need to fear, you do.” Headmaster Wyrmwood qualified, steepling his fingers. “And if it concerns you that your closest allies can sense your power… how will you fare when parties who have no sense of love or loyalty to you pick up on the anomaly that is your existence?”

  Eric froze at those words, knowing he was playing into their hands, but unable to help himself. “What parties would these be?”

  Elonia exchanged a look with the headmaster.

  “Fear not, my queen. Our academy is even more significant than the Towers of Zor. No one below Gold could listen in, and our gracious emperor no doubt has a trillion other things on his mind than the goings-on within this newly ascended world.”

  Elonia swallowed, stepping close and squeezing Eric’s hand, her words hardly more than a whisper, and their communication in the language they alone knew, no matter the headmaster’s assurances.

  “Eric. Inquisitors have come.”

  Eric stiffened at those words, knowing what it meant. What it had to mean. “Fuck.”

  “It’s a good thing you’ve gone the Path of Endless Bounty route, hey, boss?” Bunbun quipped, also sharing in their conversation.

  “Why are they here?”

  Elonia flashed a tight smile. “It appears that Sapphira 3 suffered a catastrophic Mana cascade when a naked hyperion core that should have been prevented by countless safeguards from entering any planetary gravity well was somehow gated right into the capital city.” Her eyes flashed like sparkling emeralds. “Right on top of Lord Augustine’s Palace. A Silver-tier monster. Obliterated, along with his entire clan.”

  Eric stumbled, shaking more than he wanted to admit to hear the words said out loud, spearing him with the gravity of his heinous act.

  How many millions of lives had he sentenced to death?

  His sister gently steadied his balance, again with a strength far exceeding the miniscule 25 on the character sheet of her soul that he had sensed the moment they made physical contact.

  “Why are they here?” He asked in a raspy voice.

  Elonia flashed a brilliant smile. “That is the pertinent question, isn’t it? It appears that a gate was opened here in the Northeast, right in the heart of the Blue Palace, just long enough for the city to suffer a flash of hyperion radiation responsible for hundreds of lives lost. Yet it was only a fraction, the tiniest fraction of the sheer and absolute devastation that would have not only obliterated Freetown in a split second, but would also have obliterated New Arcadia and at least half the continent, even with countless hundreds of wildly variant territories and mana fields acting as the equivalent of breakwaters on our hyper-ascending world. Make no mistake. If that thing had been unleashed here… the consequences would have been beyond catastrophic.”

  Eric’s vision was tunneling. He took ragged breaths as his heart pounded. Understanding the heartfelt love and, yes, gratitude in his sister’s eyes. Knowing damn well what he had done. Having effectively saved both New Arcadia and Freetown and Queensland, and New York and Boston as well. To name just a tiny handful of the communities dotting pretty much the entire Northeast that would have been obliterated. Yet he couldn’t help gravitate to what else she had implied.

  On a world not effected by wildly churning mana fields, territory patchworks and mad rapid ascension… the devastation would be at least as bad. If not so much worse.

  Somehow, his sister helped him into her former chair, still warmed with her presence, a fresh glass of tea now in his hand, inhuman Finesse alone allowing him to maneuver it to his lips without shattering it to dust.

  Elonia’s soothing voice washed over him. “So, as far as the Inquisitors can make out, at least so far as Caliban has been able to discretely inform me, it appears that Lord Augustine for some insane reason dared to open a gate between our worlds and was preparing to force a Hyperion Core through. A clear breach of countless protocols that would have earned the emperor’s own ire, had Lord Augustine not been forced to pay the ultimate price for his own foolishness. Obviously, his insane maneuver failed. The gate warped under the mana well generated by the core, and Freetown was extremely lucky to suffer only the briefest contact with such devastatingly destructive radiation with the complete obliteration of only a single building.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “So that is the conclusion that the Inquisitors have reached?” Eric asked, surprised he could voice anything at all through lips parched, no matter how much tea he drank.

  His sister chuckled. “Hardly! The official story is that our dear innocent tyrant was rendered insensate by foul machinations designed to goad him into opening a portal that spelled his doom. Oh, they also want to question one ‘Spite Bane’ and what kind of name is that? Who declared himself the mastermind of Lord Augustine’s destruction. Though how a complete unknown managed to gain access to both a hyperion core and construct a rift that normally takes a square mile of carefully calibrated hardware to design are questions that no one has a good answer for. The assertion is that this Spite Bane was a lackey of the late Lord Augustine and either sabotaged him deliberately... or took advantage of the disaster with false claims in pursuit of notoriety or unknown titles.”

  Eric frowned. “So these inquisitors are after this Spite Bane fellow?”

  Elonia nodded brightly as she seated herself right next to him with a fresh cup of tea. “Him and an Ernest ‘Edgelord’ Slaughter. A Contender who we, of course, revere here in New Arcadia for his work in restoring this land. Yet he’s now being accused of goading not one but multiple members of the former Sapphira Royal clan into duels that ended in their deaths, including Lord Augustine’s direct heir. That, of course, is being sighted as the reason for the Silver’s insensate rage that left him vulnerable to a devious Goblinoid attempt to eliminate his entire clan.”

  Eric froze at this, caught between dismay, horror, and a growing anger. “Let me get this straight… a diabolical Silver attempts to devastate our planet after his relatives failed to kill some Contender, and now it’s this Contender’s fault that the power-mad psychopath went off the deep end and tried to kill us all? Because it’s pretty fucking obvious from the earlier strictures mentioned that there’s no way anyone here on a freshly ascended planet full of White-Tier nobodies could have gotten a hold of this core that’s so utterly restricted and I’m guessing as expensive as fuck if it’s used to power starships. And how the hell are there even starships in a fantasy universe? Whatever.”

  Eric shook his head. “Bottom line is that the only way this Augustine asshole could have been vulnerable to any White-Tier goblin machinations is if he had both opened the gate and provided the core.”

  “And why are you so sure of that?” Elonia asked brightly between sips of floral tea.

  Eric smirked, playing along. “Because why the hell would even tricky goblins waste whatever it cost to buy such a thing as a starship core, assuming they could even afford it? Sure, they’re vindictive fucks and I hate them more than anyone, but I’ve never heard of them ever attempting a gambit that didn’t both torment their enemies and net them a profit. Preferably a fat one! Attempting to spite some Silver-tier monster multiple worlds away who seems to be getting along well enough with those goblins to open an intergalactic portal to them, just to throw away however many billions of credits it cost them to toss a core through and risk System-wide ire without netting them any sort of profit at all… sounds like a stupid and incredibly expensive way to both spend a fortune and commit financial and literal suicide if the entire galaxy puts them on a kill list, or at least a ‘do not truck with them under any circumstances’ list. It’s about as anti-goblin as them actually giving anyone without power a fair shake! In other words, it’s not happening.”

  Elonia flashed a jaded smile. “Really, Eric. What a silly assertion! If you had a choice between preserving the honor and reputation of a devastated Silver-Tier clan, even if just for posterity’s sake, or painting him as a murdering psychopath which also taints any powerful allies he had by simple association, and all you had to do to avoid that PR nightmare was to pin as many crimes as you could on a vulnerable faction and a wanna-be hero with no connections or clan to speak of... of course you pin that crime on a handful of goblins and that fool of Contender who doesn’t know his place just as fast and hard as you can!”

  “Your Grace,” Headmaster Wyrmwood cautioned with an indulgent smile.

  Elonia smirked, crossing her legs and taking a leisurely sip of her drink. “By which I mean, of course, that our brave and noble Inquisitors seek only the truth. And no doubt they have only the most innocent of questions for the brave and daring human Contender who managed to survive multiple duels with Bronze, even Deep Bronze-tier opponents from distinguished clans. A Contender also accused of using extremely unorthodox arts to transform large swathes of land in miraculous ways never seen before. No doubt they wish to commend him with a medal, and if he disappeared without a trace immediately after their interview, it would of course be no one’s fault but his own. No doubt he ran off with a big head after his commendation and dared some black-tier region or other that was far beyond his means.”

  Eric’s dismay turned to a hot ember in the pit of his stomach. His cup shattered in his hand, no matter his absurd Finesse.

  “No.”

  His word was rough and jagged and as sharp as his bitter hate that someone, anyone, no matter how malicious and conniving, would be allowed to wreck his life or force his hand. Not even manipulative Inquisitors who thought they could persecute him for the crime of surviving and protecting his family, his people, from tyrannical psychopaths, just because they were corrupt, jaded fucks eager to use him to make their own lives easier. Because the only justice that mattered to them was preserving the power and reputation of the status quo.

  His glare also made it clear that, no matter how well-intentioned his sister who was presently handing him a fresh cup of tea was, he would not be pressured to surrender what was his.

  No one and nothing was going to force his hand and compel him to give up absolutely everything he had worked so damn hard to achieve.

  “It’s temporary. You’re body’s put in chrysalis. You’re effectively reborn as you were before we ever fled for our lives into that twisted pod,” Elonia said in a hurried whisper. “And Eric? This isn’t a bullshit theft. This is like a character reset in the best games. It’s better, in fact. We give up nothing.”

  Eric blinked. “Nothing?”

  Elonia’s now stormy-gray eyes flashed with lightning. “Nothing! The abilities add! The training you do? All the new points you can earn ranking up your skills to Journeyman all over again? You keep those points forever. All the skills you earn with your do-over? You keep them too! And do you know what’s best about all of it, brother?”

  Eric’s frown didn’t abate, but he no longer felt the need to flee the room, not the least because his once more upright sister’s hand was on his shoulder and still had the weight of an entire territory behind it. A very big, fat, high population territory her best brother had brought about… and he still couldn’t move an inch.

  Then his sister winced apologetically and took her seat once more. “That perfect clone of you is effectively a free life, Eric. A living incarnation spawned from the academy itself. In tune with is magic and the intersecting planes of reality we happened to now be nestled right in the heart of. A living carnation molded from the very fabric of this precious miniature realm that allow you to channel forces that would utterly obliterate any lesser mage… even if novices will find their early spells just as haphazard as any apprentice ever.” They shared a bemused smile at that. “What’s most important, most vital to keep in mind, the ace that literally has had every major player in the know accepting our invitations with superluminal speed, is that for so long as you inhabit your academy-sponsored incarnation, you can continue to grow and rank up Primal affinities without limit! You could even advance them to a degree that might let you one day make the entire world dance to your tune.”

  Headmaster Wyrmwood chuckled. “Your sister paints a marvelous picture, Eric, but apprentices of any arcane school will be the same the galaxy over. Honestly, I’ll be happy if half the students can simply complete their first semester.”

  Elonia flashed the man a brilliant smile. “They’ll do you proud. Each and every one of them!”

  “I’m sure they will.”

  Elonia turned back to her brother. “Eric, the best part is… it’s a free life. You can keep on building and building power and affinities and when you eventually die… or simply wish for your incarnation to end… you’ll wake up in your old body, with all the new attributes and abilities you gained adding to your original form. It all stacks, Eric.”

  She flashed him an absolutely dazzling smile, her irises now as bright a blue as the summer day no doubt gracing her entire kingdom. “Can you imagine what an incredible boon that is for a late Bronze who stagnated? Having done all he could to master various avenues of power, having earned an extremely respectable collection of attributes… he now has the potential to both double his attributes before approaching his bottleneck. Only this time, he would in all likelihood break through, with massively powerful affinities to boot. Even if it took him a handful of decades to do what had before taken centuries, that would be an extremely small price to pay, a treasured once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, no matter how goofy and absurd we’ll all feel at first, playing at apprentices in brand new bodies.”

  Eric blinked, gazing at Elonia and Headmaster both with something close to awe. “You’re serious, aren’t you. What amounts to a backup life for any of us. And when we eventually choose to end it...we wake up more powerful than ever before.”

  “But there is a catch,” the headmaster cautioned.

  Eric chuckled softly before taking a fresh sip of tea. “Of course there is.”

  Elonia gave him a warning glare but Wyrmwood was nothing if not patient with his pair of highly eccentric, overpowered prospective students. That was clear even to Eric.

  “Once the incarnation ends for you… you can never go back. Attending further classes in your original body will do absolutely nothing to further enhance your attunement to the Primal Arts, since the body you inhabit was the original one you were born with. A body whose existential sovereignty is tied to a reality that, until very recently, felt very few fields of potency beyond gravity and electromagnetism. The farthest thing from an incarnation forged within an academy at the crossroads of existence itself.”

  Eric sighed. “So it’s a one-time thing. We can advance ourselves along what are potentially extremely powerful paths to power, but the minute our fragile shells break, we can advance no further. Got it.”

  “And you’d be a fool not to be cautious,” Wyrmwood cautioned with a raised finger. “Protecting your life during tests, proving ground trials, and confrontations as if you truly were mortal or low-level with mortal stats once more. As cautious as you were long before you realized that neither orc muskets nor sniper rifles nor artillery shells could hurt you.”

  Elonia’s eyes widened at this. “Eric, just how high is your Physical—”

  “Three Hundred,” he quickly said.

  Eric got perverse pleasure on seeing the look of awe cross his sister’s face.

  “See? Our boy isn’t completely hopeless. Just hyper-specialized to cut motherfuckers up!” Bunbun happily declared, dancing a jig on top of his head as Headmaster Wyrmwood chuckled, dipping his head in commendation.

  “Truly impressive, Eric. But should you accept this second life, as you so aptly put it, you’ll be starting as a boy with a Vitality of thirteen once more, with all your skills, those you are permitted access to, lowered to Rank nine.”

  “But you still have all your former knowledge,” Elonia quickly assured. “You just have to attune to it once more. Like an expert swordsman who let himself go for a season or two. Which means you can quickly rank them up to Rank 10 for all the stat benefits!”

  “Though it will take hard work and diligence, the same as always, and I expect all my students to focus on their classes and assignments above any extracurricular training,” the headmaster warned before taking a sip of his own tea.

  Eric swallowed, dipping his head. There was a hell of a lot to process. And the thought that maybe, just maybe, he might actually allow himself to commit the cardinal sin of NOT maximizing his abilities at all times, let alone taking a temporary step back…

  He groaned at the thought of an invisible audience glaring with disapproval at his life choices.

  Yet the unguarded look in the headmaster’s eyes made at least one truth perfectly obvious.

  One day, the easy insights, ranks, and levels that he presently enjoyed would pass. One day, they would all be struggling for every scrap of advancement or enlightenment they could find. By that time, all the easy paths forward would have been claimed, Eric’s own revelations maxed out. He’d have the power that he had, whatever it might be, and would have to fight tooth and nail for a scrap more.

  Yet at the cost of a few months or seasons, maybe even a few years time away from that mad grind… he could rank up powerful skills that could potentially make his eventual Golden Phoenix transformation twice as strong as it would otherwise be.

  Maybe more.

  Maybe a hell of a lot more.

  It seemed that his mother’s desperate ascension that had compelled his own forced evolution into an extremely powerful incarnation of himself that could ascend to Gold but no further… maybe that wasn’t the end of his journey, as absurdly potent as even Golds were.

  Maybe daring to embrace Higher Order concepts combined with pristine elements channeled through an entire realm… multiple realms of Primal Elements… would let him blaze beyond even his mother’s glorious ascension. Blaze like a Supernova so absurdly hot and potent that he might one day soar even beyond Gold’s confines.

  Though in his heart of hearts, now knowing the true cost for the Phoenix’s Ascension… he was no longer worried about blazing and evolving as he once had.

  13 worlds gone

  He shivered in the grip of awful memory that all save Eve and the Emperor thought no more than dream, or ancient 2000 year old history, but he knew damn well was true. A horrific cost paid to the System’s delight, an actual Gold-tier path forward created for all his future heirs. His and his sister’s as well. The only bit of solace was that he could at least ascend to Half-Step Gold without having to sacrifice the planet that meant more to him than any other. Earth itself.

  Before him was an opportunity unlike any other. Maybe Windridge would offer him and his future descendants to gain the Primal Powers needed to ascend all the way to Full Gold without having to sacrifice any additional planets at all. Maybe countless Golds could now safely ascend without the galaxy paying a terrible price in civilizations consumed for the ascension of an extremely elite few.

  And maybe he could take a temporary break, no matter all the other players nipping at his heels.

  He wasn’t worried about territory conquest. He’d happily feed on territories and enemy Contenders who thought he was easy prey. Hell, he even had perks to better facilitate that.

  He had teeth to better facilitate that! He’d devour any opposing Contender and any trace he had ever existed. A charming little monster, just like his former—

  He shook the unwanted thoughts away. Yet it was also true that the longer he delayed claiming as much territory as he could…

  His sister’s slender grip once more squeezed his shoulder like steel.

  “And the best part of this is, Brother, that no one understands the boons that Windridge offers better than the off-world scions of dozens of elite clans who jumped at the opportunity to attend this academy for even a single semester! So eager they are to attend that I now have multiple oaths of nonaggression, several alliance offers, and way too many marriage offers!”

  Her teasing smile turned serious. “What that means, Eric, is that for the duration that various scions are here reforging themselves as the youths they once were, forging friendships and alliances that might unite a continent without any bloodshed at all, if we’re really, really lucky… is a duration that North America won’t be tearing itself apart under the heels of monsters devastating our entire fragile continent in their desperate pursuit of power.”

  Eric was struck by a shiver of wondrous possibility when he finally took a second to appreciate the depth of what his sister was saying. What those non-aggression oaths really meant.

  “Wait… so this school’s ability to transform and enhance us is so epic that just within a day of sending out the invites, all the galactic movers and shakers that managed to slip through the quotas agreed not to tear this world apart in their pursuit of power, so long as they get a chance to attend this academy, even as level one novices?”

  Elonia nodded. “Actually, yes, Eric. All the major powers who are actually a threat to our world’s stability are planning on joining Mistridge. All the small fry left over are native-born Terrans content to fight between themselves or struggling to tame even a single Orange territory.” She chuckled softly. “The irony, of course, is that that’s exactly the level of intensity that our world should be dealing with, but that’s far from the reality we live in.”

  “And the scions all coming here and signing accords of nonaggression for the duration of their stay… they’re not worried?”

  Elonia shared a smile with the headmaster.

  “I’m pretty sure, Eric, that by the time our future friends are ready to graduate and reclaim their original vessels… desperate White-Tier natives with access to nothing but a bit of luck, a couple fortuitous encounters, and Average or Advanced classes at best, will be the absolute least of their concerns. The lucky Terrans will be permitted baronies in return for oaths of fealty, or personally groomed into classers actually worthy of the title. And everyone else…”

  “I think I understand.” Eric said, taking a thoughtful sip of his fresh tea, even feeling inspired enough to claim one of the silver-plated cream-filled pastries on the tiny table beside his chair. “I’m not going to lie, Elonia. If there’s a chance that the powers-that-be can take a timeout from wholesale slaughter and try out the gentle slice-of-life scene for a while… that’s probably the only thing that’s going to keep me from showing those fuckers just how big a concern they should have for us ‘desperate White-Tier natives.’

  The headmaster chuckled. “And that is where we have high hopes for you, Eric Silver, should you be willing to accept a mission that will earn you considerable prestige at this school.”

  His sister nodded. “We’d love your help, Eric. But there is a catch. If you want to earn a serious boon, the largest it’s within our power to grant, then it has to be a 100% Diplo win.”

  Eric blinked. “Come again?”

  The headmaster sighed. “Ironically, the very nature of our territory’s rather remarkable evolution, and Freetown’s as well, meant that it was in the eye of the storm of fate that had swept over the world entire. As a result, there are a handful of territories nearby that are both vital for the long term interests of both New Arcadia and Mistridge Academy that have failed to respond to our System Interface.”

  Elonia gave a troubled nod. “It’s like they’re both on and off the DSI boards.”

  Eric quirked an eyebrow. “DSI?”

  “Dominion System Interface… duh, braniac with a thirty-four scholarship,” Bunbun snarked.

  Eric shrugged “That just means my memory isn’t the craptastic shit-fest it was back when Mother Dearest was shooting me up with roids and god knows what the fuck else. And it’s thirty-five. And that’s neither here nor there,” he said to his sister’s dismayed expression, as if she couldn’t believe how he could have such a shockingly high mental stat and still be, well, her brother.

  Eric took a fresh bite of cream-filled happiness, chewing thoughtfully. “So, what you guys need is someone who understands that there’s a bit of a probability wave problem going on, and you need it to collapse to a stable energy state where everyone’s firmly in the ‘yes, we love Mistridge camp.’ Am I right?”

  Elonia quirked a bemused eyebrow. “Sure, Eric. So long as it’s also understood that we’re going for a peaceful victory here. Extremely important for a host of territory karma and reputation reasons and since we really, really want to play the good guys here, we really, really need you to refrain from doing what—”

  “He does best?” snarked the rabbit that had somehow ended up back in Elonia’s bemused hands. “And you give the best scritches.”

  Elonia smiled. “I was going to say doing what comes all too easily to too many survivors. But I have confidence in my brother. I have no doubt that if he puts his mind to it, we’ll have a handful of fresh allies and additional students willing to reforge themselves beyond all the limitations that have held them back for far too long.”

  Eric blinked, gazing at the lazily smiling headmaster and his doting sister cooing to his admittedly luxuriously soft and furry and pretty much 99.5% genuinely living familiar who was pretty awesome but she was clearly giving him space to think it through, and he had to admit he did see the logic of it.

  Even if it paid for individual Contenders to be absolutely ruthless bastards, territories on the other hand, being stationary, bound by treaty and hungry for both citizens and investors, probably benefited immensely from any and all positive reputation modifiers. And if they could successfully pull fresh territories into their fold without a drop of blood being spilled… what high level professional craftsman or seasoned adventurer wanting a safe base to set up a guild or call home wouldn’t want to be a part of that?

  But as far as bottom lines went…

  “Just so I’m clear. These territories… even if you’d like a 100% diplo clear, I’m guessing it’s more important that they fall in line a bit battered around the edges than be perfectly—”

  “Zero deaths. Save, of course, in self-defense,” the headmaster firmly said.

  Eric winced. “I see.”

  “It’s alright if you don’t convince them all,” Elonia assured. “But every territory willing to fly my banner will both strengthen our position and the strength of the boon we can, in turn, infuse into our chosen champions.”

  Eric blinked at this. “But in my…”

  Elonia squeezed his hand, intent eyes gazing into Eric’s own. “Should you dare this as nothing more significant, at first glance anyway, than an aspiring Arcane Apprentice winning over various factions by diplomacy’s enticements alone, the boons we could grant without any Terran Accord conflicts would be… significant, brother.”

  Eric blinked at this, mouth all but watering at the enticement of grand boons he could only imagine, no matter that were the enticements offered by anyone but his sister and those she clearly trusted…

  He tamped down on his growing excitement, realizing that, yes, much to his own surprise, he was actually considering this. “Alright, let’s say blood is spilled. Does that negate any prospective… boon I might earn? And if so, can I just toss it to Blue?”

  His sister blinked, furrowing her brow. “Why would you possibly throw it to…” Her eyes widened, the strangest look on her features. “Wait… that’s right… once upon a time, you were limited, severely, in what you could do before third parties demanded you surrender your own neutrality… that’s right, isn’t it?” His sister frowned, rubbing her head as if suffering a migraine. “And you like to declare yourself a ‘free agent’… why? Or was that also part of my dream?”

  Eric blinked, thoughts racing. “Wait! Wait, wait, wait… are you saying I can throw territories your way without any Terran Counsel declaring me your lackey and trying to fuck with my own path of… never mind.”

  It was the headmaster who regretfully shook his head over his tea. “I’m afraid that is a risk, even should you ask for no return at all. But you need not worry. Should we be able to secure a diplomatic victory, our future students will be signing that territory into our care directly. ‘And you’ll hardly be going alone. You’ll have a trio of others beside you who will be handling the missives directly.”

  Eric gazed at the ancient mage radiating such grandfatherly sagacity, his social perks finally kicking into gear, fueled by the power of puff pastry. “You’re bringing a full party of four, so if I do do whatever needs doing… I can just leave the territory and one of your official recruits can claim that territory in Elonia’s honor without any stain to New Arcadia at all.”

  Elonia gazed intently at her brother. “You’re safety matters above anything else, Eric. And it really would be awesome if we could do it all bloodlessly. You’d also receive a significant boon if you dared embrace the Apprentice’s path before daring your first mission. More than one title might be available to new incarnates daring to cross territories and sway rulers all for the sake of the nation that Mistridge calls home.”

  Eric flashed a hungry smile before ruthlessly suppressing the avarice to claim yet one more juicy title. Because all it would take was a single fuckup, overestimating himself and losing his incarnation to lose out on the chance to benefit from this Legendary-Tier wonder forever.

  “Just so we’re clear,” Eric said between fresh bites of pastry and sips of his tea. “If the holdouts aren’t a lost clan of orcs broken off from past and future but, say, hyper-polymerized armored sentinels with a plasma first, ask questions later mentality… those of us making up this diplomatic mission risk losing out on all the wondrous potential being a student of this school might open up for us forever. Right?”

  Elonia lowered her gaze, an unexpected flash of shame creeping up her features. “You’re right, Eric. Absolutely right. Forgive me. It was unfair of me to even imply that you should dare this as anything other than the strongest version of yourself that you can possibly be.”

  Headmaster Wyrmwood’s expression didn’t shift an iota. “There is risk, and the rewards are equally immense. I expect you to use your best judgment and to trust your instincts. If you sense peril, leave. If you sense the opportunity to better our position… embrace it. I would counsel nothing more or less than that.”

  Eric dipped his head, thoughts racing as he happily filled his belly with treats from a silver pastry tray that he realized was a bottomless dimensional wellspring of deliciousness, enjoying the feel of the plush leather against his frame as he stared thoughtfully at the headmaster.

  “So what’s the boon for every territory I lock in for you without holding back?”

  Wyrmwood’s gaze pinned Eric where he sat.

  “Should you be able to successfully Reclaim Solaris, entire avenues of arcane study will open up to students, even those unable to access the Primal Arts at all. You will also find our school blessed with the wisdom of elves otherwise lost to the more violent eddies of the probability waves that have crashed so violently against Earth’s shores.”

  Eric froze at those words, heart pounding, gazing at the headmaster whose gaze bore a weight and intensity he had last seen in Aurelia Silver’s eyes, right before she ascended. In that moment he knew without a shadow of a doubt that this warmly smiling headmaster sipping his tea was as powerful and tied into the fate of this world as any Silver could hope to be.

  For a heartbeat, flashes of Headmistress Arci and her beaming boy Yiovri flickered in his mind’s eye. He had despaired of them making it past peril’s grip a second time with his mother’s ascension and the transformation of past and present once more… and hadn’t dared check for himself. There had been no time and it would have been a bitter blow indeed. But if Arci and her family had somehow managed to survive…

  Wyrmwood smiled, taking a bite of his own puff pastry. “Excellent, aren’t they? I have no doubt that any number off would-be adventurers will fine the Culinary Artist’s path as worthy and exciting an arcane specialization as any dungeon delve could hope to be.”

  Eric couldn’t help but nod at that, the tantalizing scents of cinnamon vanilla and cream a delight to his nose and tastebuds alike.

  “Should you and your fellow diplomats convince the lost residence of Dairyland to join our fold, Mistridge will have unlocked access to a paradigm of healing magic and gentle blessings that will bring a dash of fairytale wonder to many a future adventurer’s party. And should Silvergrove also be willing to fly Queen Elonia’s banner, then healing magics will be unlocked for the entire world, even those who never attend our academy.”

  “And the milkmaids?” The words slipped out before Eric could summon them back, his sister’s arched brow and the headmaster’s bemused smile causing his cheeks to heat up a bit more than was necessary with his high arcane resistance of 131 boosted an additional 50% to 196 against electromana attacks, thanks to a Hyperion Blazer perk from a past that this time around, had never happened.

  “Those of mixed heritage are of course welcome to join Mistridge as well and will no doubt evolve into extremely talented healers, though there are certain… strictures they will have to adhere to.”

  Eric frowned. “What strictures?”

  Somehow, the headmaster’s stare said all that needed to be said, Eric suddenly feeling like a boarding school student caught in a very compromising position which was entirely unfair since his questions were entirely reasonable and some things needed to be asked.

  “Sorry, Eric, but no romancing your fellow studentsis allowed,” Elonia explained.

  Eric wanted to roll his eyes at the look his sister was giving him. “Seriously?”

  She casually shrugged. “Well if you wish to risk jeopardizing the pristine incarnation juxtaposed between a dozen overlapping realities for a bit of fun and games that risk knocking you squarely back into humanity’s camp the second you manage to get a girl pregnant, because however sophisticated our arts, biology really does trump all, that’s on you. But I promise you that all your future competitors who’ve already achieved Bronze have the discipline to keep their pants zipped tight until long after they’ve squeezed every drop of power and potential from this second-chance that they can.”

  Eric gazed pointedly at his sister now smirking at him as she sipped her tea, the message loud and clear. Conception, not climax, risked knocking them off the peaks of their ascension. Which meant that certain things should be perfectly fine. Of course he’d be a fool dabble when any mischance could cause a certain outcome, and all he had to do to avoid a lifetime of what-ifs was to keep his junk in his trunk until he had gotten everything he could from this glorious second life that he was actually thinking of embracing.

  “Okay, so basically the same rules that most students attending private academies have to live by anyway. As long as its broken to my Milkmaids gently, I’m sure they’ll be okay with it. They’re smart big-picture girls anyway, and will do whatever it takes to assure healthy and powerful mates… even if it takes a few years for that particular crop to blossom.”

  Eric winced at the way both sister and headmaster were looking at him.

  His sister raised an arch brow. “Your Milkmaids, Eric? Seriously?”

  He winced, laughing it off. “Yeah, let’s not even go there. As far as this reality is concerned, I’m just talking out my ass.”

  “So, what else is knew?”

  “Ha ha. Any other territories of significance I should keep in mind?”

  The headmaster smiled, sipping his tea. “As a matter of fact, yes. Two in particular. Can you guess which ones?”

  Eric froze, his fresh pastry halfway to his mouth when it clicked. “Shit.”

  Elonia frowned in sudden concern, worried eyes meeting his own. “Eric, what’s wrong?”

  Eric wanted to groan. Looking at the headmaster’s too-knowing gaze, he immediately understood.

  “This is why Headmaster Wyrmwood is being so nice and putting up with my snarky self. He knows that I now know exactly what this is about.”

  Elonia’s lips pursed in a tight frown, hands firmly holding her cup. “Eric, what are you talking about?”

  Eric sighed, all but glaring at the calmly smiling headmaster. “Ashland, Picksonville, and Hope Province. Two of those three. My greatest treasures that fucking asshole backstabbing goblins and one twisted Contender after another utterly prevented me and Blue Corp from ever building up.”

  Elonia’s tightened features looked all the more puzzled. “But Eric, I thought your path forbade you to own anything at all?”

  Eric sighed, rubbing his temples. “It’s… nevermind, it’s a long story. And maybe in this particular time and place, it doesn’t matter at all.” HE flashed the headmaster a bitter smile. “Alright, I’ll bite. What could possibly be worth me not just charging in, slaughtering every fucker thinking they can set up camp in my territory, no matter what the hell this timeline says, and throwing them all back to Blue where they belong?”

  “Eric!”

  He ignored Elonia’s alarm, locking gazes with the linchpin of the entire academy.

  Headmaster Wyrmwood was entirely unfazed as he took a fresh sip of his tea. “Delightful brew, wouldn’t you agree, Elonia, Eric?”

  Elonia just stared.

  “Tea and cream puffs are both top notch,” Eric said, refusing to drop the headmaster’s gaze.

  “Indeed they are. Some of the best you’ll find in my sponsor’s most magnificent kingdom. As to the benefits of those territories being surrendered to my liege who would then in turn bequeath them to the academy’s care…” The headmaster gave Eric a too knowing smile. “Besides allowing for unlimited development and rapid growth for the natives, the delves themselves would blossom with rich arcane treasures like never before. Casting magical spells of the caliber that System enhanced classers can understand would cost only a fraction of the Mana that said spells do now, should Ashland fall under our care.” He took a sip of his tea. “In addition, the most gifted of our student class would find opportunities that have been too long denied to the citizens of this world.”

  Eric froze at those words… heart racing as it clicked. A shiver of possibility he and everyone else had given up all hope on. “Wait! Wait, are you saying this school would have access to delves, or portals leading to delves of Green and Yellow-tier? Dungeons that have so far been denied pretty much everyone? Dungeons that are all up for a first clear bonus?”

  Elonia blinked, her eyes growing as round as Alex knew his own were.

  “Eric, do you know what this means?”

  The pair turned to the headmaster who, much to Eric’s wonder, actually dipped his head. “Correct. Portals would be available to a limited number of delves per season… of all tiers. Though it will be quite some time before any of you are ready for anything beyond a White-Tier adventure as part of a well-organized and disciplined group, with a strong foundation in the core disciplines you have an affinity for… but yes. The potential for growth and empowerment will be quite...significant. Even for the grand majority which will never be in position to earn any sort of ‘first clear.’”

  Elonia was the first to assert practicality over the sheer jubilation Eric knew they both felt. “Alright, Headmaster, how strong is this connection, precisely? How many rifts will there be available?”

  Wyrmwood winked Eric’s way. “That depends. Just how many rifts are there in Ashland, how grand is their bounty, how far do they descend?”

  Eric sipped his tea before answering. “Twelve rifts that were granted the boons of Promise of Adventure and Adventurer’s Paradise. As to how deep they go… not deep at all.”

  He chuckled softly at his sister’s crestfallen expression. “It would be more accurate to say that they ascend. Ascend all the way to a planet now eternally linked to our own, as deep a Bronze as it is possible for any delve to go. Endless, or a trillion overlapping pocket realms long. Realms sufficient to stretch between overlapping worlds.”

  He smiled into the breathless silence. “Assuming our honored headmaster hadn’t already figured that out… yeah. There’s that.”

  The headmaster chuckled. “Then I suspect each and every season our academy will find the windows of possibility opening to a full dozen virgin delves of multiple tiers, and though very few will be able to safely explore any but the gentlest delve, there will be fresh opportunities with every season they seek to master themselves within our august halls.”

  Eric swallowed, finally appreciating the true significance of that boon. Even if he had hoped to profit off its resources, he had long resigned himself to the idea that he would never be able to explore his own delves. But if his sense of things was correct, not only would he be able to enter them, but he could enjoy first-clear bonuses as well. Even if he would be competing against hundreds or even thousands of fellow students, assuming he wished to compete with them at all… there would be fresh chances every season.

  If nothing else, it would be a way to gain levels without having to deal with orc rat dens which he had done his best to purge, or forced to deal with musket fire or swarms of territory-hungry humanoids of any race if he chose to walk this path from the very beginning once more.

  Yet he sensed that wasn’t the end of the marvelous ways he could effectively level up Windridge via the proxy of claiming additional territories under his Sister’s banner.

  “And if Picksonville falls under the Sylvan Faction’s sway?”

  The headmaster exchanged a glance with Elonia, sipping her tea so thoughtfully that Eric hardly saw her hand tremble, though he knew she was feeling just as awed as he.

  “Then our future students will be able to learn from master cultivators who have devised the techniques necessary to fuse Primal arts with abilities that depend solely upon Spiritual Energy or Qi.”

  Eric’s breath hitched, unable to hide his surge of excitement. With that one declaration, his hoped for possibility could be made an iron-hard certainty. Phoenix Strike was technically a Qi attack, infused with no Mana at all. Which meant that if he seized Picksonville and didn’t mind immediately surrendering it… the Phoenix Strike that had once torn through an entire flotilla of dreadnoughts might one day be his to claim once more.

  Not now, he knew that already. But long before he ever hit Gold.

  Nonetheless, old promises must still be kept, and cultivation oaths honored, even if he was the only one who remembered debts owed. Even if the Wind Step technique was now no more real than a faded dream.

  “One hundred Greater-tier spirit peaches were promised to the Feng Ren sect. And that’s a promise that must be kept.”

  His sister gave him an odd look, but the headmaster didn’t hesitate to nod. “It will be done.”

  “Alright,” Eric said breathlessly. “Then you’re getting Picksonville and Ashland both.” His eyes flashed. “No matter what it takes.”

  “Eric…”

  Jaw clenched, Eric shook his head, no matter his sister’s disappointed look. “Whatever it takes, Elonia.”

  “Even if you must kill hundreds?”

  “They were already my territories once before so… yeah. You better believe it.”

  “But the headmaster just said…”

  Eric shook his head. “Don’t worry, Elonia. If tragedy strikes our enemies’ strongholds from unexpected directions, I have absolutely no doubt that your chosen party will swoop in, present generous boons, and get that diplo win I know you’re hoping for.” He flashed a mirthless smile. “Even if my not being a part of your envoy means I receive no boons at all. I would still benefit beyond belief if those territories end up flying Mistridge’s banner.”

  His sister sighed, before flashing a wry smile. “I understand. And how big a fucking hypocrite does it make me to mourn the loss of lives when you’ve already embraced that bitter calculus to help so many of us enjoy a second chance at paradise?”

  Her winsome smile said so much. Still, Eric lowered his gaze, suddenly feeling just the tiniest bit ashamed.

  He really was a bloodthirsty bastard when push came to shove. Thank god his sister still loved him, regardless.

  Elonia exchanged a solemn look with the headmaster. “We understand, Eric. Whatever you can do to aid in our territory’s ascension—in our future academy’s ascension—will not be forgotten. But still… you can’t blame us for enticing you to at least consider a gentler path?”

  Eric smirked. “Sure, sis. For you. What is it?”

  “The promise of one lesser title and my personal assurance that you will be tutored until you achieve at least one additional rank in the Primal Art of your choice,” Wyrmwood solemnly declared.

  Eric could barely hold back is grin. “And that’s for each territory I bring with zero kills?”

  The headmaster chuckled. “One title, dear founder. But yes, I will extend the boon to one additional rank in the Primal Art of your choice for each territory you can gently bring under our sway before the semester formally begins.”

  “And no killing, save in self defense. Does self-defense include defending my party members from ambushes, attempted kidnappings, or the risk of certain death?”

  “Of course.”

  Eric dipped his head, holding tight to his elation. “Any other strictures I should know about?”

  “Don’t try to goad anyone into attacking you or your party members. Other than that? No.”

  “And what’s the boon if I manage to claim territories in Elonia’s name as a new incarnate?”

  Here, Wyrmwood’s smile was a match for Eric’s own. “Multiple titles that will provide boons of far more significance to you than what you might earn as the powerful Contender you presently are. In addition to earning double the tutoring time that you otherwise would.”

  Eric whistled. “With they way my sister’s looking at you right now, quality one-on-one time with professors is far more than a convenient cramming session.”

  The headmaster smiled enigmatically, saying only, “You will have to be the judge of that. Yet somehow, I don’t think you will be at all disappointed.”

  Eric solemnly dipped his head as an entirely unexpected opportunity manifested before him, already knowing the path he would take.

  “Alright, then. I guess I’m in.”

  ______________________________________________________

  Author's note. I hope you enjoyed the extra long chapter. Around 13,000 words!!

  In part, I wanted to lay the foundation for what will be a school training arc. Important to emphasize here is that there will be NO permanent loss of power, just a temporary hold on his former abilities once he formally joins. This stricture also holds for all the elite Deep Bronze and Half-step Silvers he would otherwise meet on the killing fields. Only now he'll get the opportunity to interact with them in a school setting where he might actually make some new friends, forge alliances, or just keep tabs on all the power-mad tyrants he'll be doing his best to take out in the seasons to come! -

  Of course, once Eric is done with school, he will come out of it with all the abilities and stats he earned in addition to everything he had before.

  (Possible Spoiler below!)

  Let's not forget, Eric has the advantage of multiple titles enhancing his attributes. Every point in Strength, for example, is worth 225% of what it would normally be. Which means he'll be advancing far faster than his fellow classmates might expect! And if he can secure a certain peach grove, maybe Mistridge will do more than enhance his Qi attacks. Maybe he'll also be able to earn fresh levels as a Cultivator as well! And those sweet, sweet 15 point cultivation level-ups, doubled with all his modifiers, would allow him to power up pretty damn quickly, if any fellow Contender tries forcing him into school sanctioned duels!

  That being said, the school arc is still a few chapters distant. Eric has territories to claim under his Sister's banner and he still has EVERY intention of seizing New York City and forcing the goblins out of their final sanctuary before surrendering an ounce of his power, even temporarily.

  I'm excited to see how Eric's story will continue to progress, and I'm grateful to have you all join Eric on his journey!