[I know everything there is to know about you. Every single little detail.]
“How come you never spoke to me in the past timeline?” he asked, lowering his voice to a whisper, unsure if he was being listened to by the servants.
[You didn’t have a primal force. And no, don’t ask me about it—I can’t reveal most of my information until you uncover the building blocks yourself. If you make the foundation, I can build on top of it.]
Eric grimaced at that new insight. She—he was assuming the Index was a she because of the voice—was only able to provide insights once he had laid the foundation. Unfortunate. “Can you talk to me whenever? Or intrude on my thoughts? What about other people, can you talk to them whenever you want to as well?”
[You have to open up the communication with the Index command. I can only talk like this to holders of primal forces, those who have traveled back in time—that was a new one I just learned—or those who reach level nine-hundred or higher. Oh, and apparently future-me was able to talk to the last living—technically living due to Self-Resurrection keeping you on the edge, that is—person on Elyndor before it was destroyed. You cannot tell others that I exist, either. If you try, it will not come out, whether spoken or written, unless they meet the threshold I mentioned.]
Alright . . . the Index is literally talking to me—
[I can read your thoughts. I have been able to since you arrived, but I elected not to interfere with you until the majority of stressful, initial-Summoning events that Trok puts its Summoned through were dealt with. I hope that my intrusion at this point isn’t too forced, but I needed to speak to you sooner rather than later, and, well, you did initiate contact tonight. I presumed that meant you were well-enough settled.]
Can you give me some privacy?
[I can, but I won’t.]
Eric could have sworn he heard a little laugh. The voice he heard in his mind was deep and terrifying, though it was also feminine. A rich, dulcet tone, who seemed amused and interested more than anything. A far cry from the dispassionate, ambiguous voices that had previously accompanied messages from The Paths.
Do you have anything to do with that moon I saw in The Paths? It looked like a dragon eye.
[That’s me. I’m the arch dragon who gave her life to help manifest The Paths and bound herself to it. A means for Elyndians to utilize the mana given off by the Ley Lines. I watched you make your decision in the library—very brave . . . or possibly reckless. The strongest Reaper Class of all. If your will was not strong enough, it would have consumed you utterly.]
Eric wasn’t surprised at the Index’s words. Dragons were the most powerful beings on Elyndor. But their demeanor and behaviors were very different from one another, aside from their need to eat a vast quantity of food every few hundred years. He had met one in his prior timeline, and that was for a brief, fleeting moment, and the experience had left him shaken and in awe.
The fact that one was willing sacrifice itself to save the world was not out of the realm of possibility, given the stories he’d read and heard in his travels. The Paths allowed for creatures on Elyndor to expel ambient mana that permeated their body. If they could not expend it through Rotes, then they would get mana sickness and die.
This dragon had given her life to keep the creatures on Elyndor from dying, and that was a truly heroic sacrifice. Eric immediately changed his mind about this entity. Whoever the Index was, she had literally saved them all.
Can you tell me about Classes? He thought. I mean more specific ones, as in speculation about future build paths and the like.
[Ones that you have experience with or general knowledge of.]
Exarch: Is that a Class I could find in The Paths on my own, or is it locked to a Scroll or Tome hidden out in the world? Could I just obtain it since I already have knowledge of it?
[It could be found in the library of The Paths if you searched hard enough. The Scroll you found in the White Keep was written by one who had the Class. If you were to do a mana dive to acquire it as your second or third Class, you might be able to find it in the library . . . but that would risk death from mana exposure if you spent too long there. I would advise finding the Scroll instead. As for acquiring it once you reach level fifty as you already have knowledge of it? Sadly, no. That’s not how The Paths work.]
Eric was familiar with all of those concepts. To obtain a second or third Class, a person had several options. The first was they could perform a mana dive by visiting a Ley Line Locus or immersing themselves into a Ley Line to re-enter the library of The Paths in that mindscape as he had during their first visit a few days prior.
The second method was to read a Tome, which contained a full explanation of the Class, its concept, its mechanics, and all Rotes, Skills, and Traits, written by someone who held the Class. It was just like a mana dive, without the risks of mana saturation. The final method was to gather snippets of information about a Class, called Scrolls, and put together enough bits and pieces to create a full enough picture that a person could conceptualize the final Class as a whole, and therefore attune to it.
The native Elyndian population would have to fully comprehend and understand the content of the Tome or Scroll described in the second and third methods.
Summoned got to cheat.
They could just touch a Tome to choose the Class if they had an open Class slot, just like if they had chosen a Class from a Tome in the library; Rotes, Skills, Traits—the full setup.
If they touched a Scroll, they immediately obtained a single Rote, Skill, or Trait from that Class that was described on the parchment. They could also choose the Class if they had an open Class slot, but they would not get the full loadout immediately—that would come with a subsequent milestone being met, and the accompanying level-up.
Okay. What about Blackflame Mage? Is that a Class that I could write a Tome or Scroll for?
[No. Others cannot learn of a primal force. They must acquire it from the library, and only if there is not an existing wielder who controls its power.]
Why was it chained up?
[Only the strongest of wills can obtain a primal force. That burning-alive feeling you had when you grabbed it? That would have incinerated your soul if you did not have such drive. The chains are meant to keep people from choosing it. It did not dissuade you, though.]
You know about the Titan. If it hatches from the world, do you die?
[Oh yes. So, I really hope you keep it asleep. As you’ve theorized, if it dies, then all mana dies. That means I would die. I really don’t want that. I rather like being an immortal entity who gets to watch everything going on.]
Eric felt a sense of triumph—his educated guess was correct. And he also felt kinship with the Index. It knew everything about him, and if the Titan was killed or broke free, they both would suffer. There was a little discomfort as well, though, as the Index was definitely voyeuristic.
Can you tell me how I can access my memory reservoir from my past timeline?
[Past-future timeline. It is a bit weird, but the best way I can summarize it for you is thus: your consciousness, mind, memories, all of that—future me was able to compress that down into a packet of data and shove it into your Paths Within, and shove that into the past.]
Why not push yourself into the past instead? Wouldn’t that have been more beneficial? Not that I’m complaining.
[I am too vast. You, comparatively, are an insect. No offense intended.]
None taken.
Eric was comforted by the fact that he had survived, no matter how convoluted the method, and that he had this wonderful second chance at life to do things right. He had an opportunity to set the world on the right course, and thanks to the future version of the Index, he had access to all of his memories from that past timeline. It would be a major boon.
And yet he had more to ask. He needed to probe further. To know more, and add to that memory storage even further.
Do you know anything about the people working on freeing the Titan?
[I can’t say much, thanks to the restrictive parameters the creator deity placed on me during his visit some eons ago—that’s where all the redacted stuff comes into play. I can say that there are three factions in play in regard to the Titan. One Summoned who touched the Summon Stone per stone was told of the impending doom by yours truly; that’s the first faction. Congratulations! You’re not alone in trying to stop the doom!]
Thanks. The other two factions?
[The second seeks the Titan’s release, thinking it’s a trapped god. No clue where they got that idea from, and those are the ones who are accelerating its release, but I do not know how that is happening and am actively investigating. The third seeks its demise. They are small, but fervent in their beliefs.]
What is the Titan?
[REDACTED. Damn. My apologies. I wish I could tell you, truly, but REDACTED. Ah, creator damn it.]
Eric wanted to grumble and complain, but did not, as the knowledge he was gaining in the moment was invaluable.
Well . . . thank you anyway. It’s a bit rude of me to just ask you a ton of questions and not give you the chance in return. Is there anything you want to talk about?
A sense of gratitude washed over Eric, but it felt like a cloying, thick fog that settled upon him: a feeling made external instead of being felt within.
[I appreciate that. However, I know everything you have thought. I have seen your entire past life. I have no questions about you. If you desire, you may call me Indedroma.]
If I said your name out loud then people would think I’m crazy, talking to someone who isn’t actually next to me. I will absolutely call you by your name when we converse like this, though.
[Hehe. Very true. You don’t want to come off as a wacko.]
You seem quite casual in this conversation—not at all some ancient being from legend. I thought arch dragons were all prim and proper with . . . gravitas to their demeanor.
[I change my behavior based upon who I am interacting with. I’m drawing on a mix of your past life on Earth and your previous time on Elyndor in the now-extinct future timeline.]
Eric pushed aside the fact that she had just acknowledged that the universe ran on a single-timeline and not a multiversal-timeline theory, and that the prior timeline he had been in ceased to exist. There was no point in thinking about the fact that everything that had once existed no longer was. It was useless to think about, to ruminate upon. He just had to move forward.
So . . . how do I stop the conversation to focus on sleep?
[Just tell me you’re done talking. It has to be out loud though. ‘Index, goodnight,’ would work.]
“Thanks. Index, goodnight.” Eric waited for a few moments, but heard nothing further in his mind. “Index: awaken.”
[Thought you wanted to sleep?]
Just testing. I’ll leave you alone.
“Index, goodnight.” Eric closed his eyes and began undulating his mana channels to allow his body to train its capacity throughout the night. But his mind was filled with and busy processing all of the new information.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
There are two groups that are going to lead to the world’s destruction if they have their way. I guess in the last timeline, the other Summoned who touched the stone and received that message I didn’t get in this timeline did some major work in either stopping these groups, or they pushed back the timer on the Titan’s awakening . . . somehow.
But ultimately, they failed. Either these factions grew powerful enough to just override any work that the Summoned were doing, or they killed the Summoned, which left no one in their way.
That disquieting thought left him restless. Sleep did not come easily that night.
Morning arrived, and Eric went into his routine: swim, calisthenic exercises after each lap, and stretches to cap it all off. Following that was breakfast with the other Summoned. As they had finished their food and were about to leave, Mari entered the room and bowed. “Magistra Seraphine d’Orveil asks for an audience. Shall I show her in?”
Eric glanced at his allies, then stood up. “In the lounge, please.” He led the way, and the Summoned sat down on couches.
Seraphine was led inside, and Mari left. The Magistra took a seat and smoothed out her deep green dress so that it sat immaculately. “Well, it is good to see you all hale and healthy.”
“Thanks for coming to visit!” Shannon said with a smile. “That dungeon was so fun. I don’t know what I was scared of before.”
Peter put an arm around her shoulder and squeezed for a moment, then just let it linger there—casual, as if he was naturally used to being the big brother doting on the little sister. “What’s up? Here to check in on us?”
“Not quite,” Seraphine replied. “I am here to inform you of two items. The first is that the soirée is in four days. To that end, I have hired several etiquette and behavior professionals who will teach you how to act at the party and among high society. They will also be instructing you in Elyndian norms when it comes to shared cultural touchstones around the world, as well as Trok-specific behaviors.” She reached into a cream-colored hip pouch and pulled out her notebook. “The second is that I wanted to review your time in the mega dungeon.”
“The ratings,” Eric stated as he leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands clasped under his chin.
“Correct. I took extensive notes, and the guards who accompanied me were doubtless taking mental ones as well. They will have reported back to whoever was paying them for the information on the side.” She tapped the notepad she held. “But my records are what the small council considered in our discussion. Plus, I used the rubric that The Consortium considers for first timers. I’ll start with the negative, as I always prefer ending on a positive note. I have a sheet for each of you to look at, but first, the group score—”
Naomi interrupted. “What’s the point of scoring us?”
Seraphine’s eyebrow twitched slightly at being interrupted, but her voice remained perfectly measured as she replied, “The Twilight Consortium scores every first-time dungeon-diver. That is the correct term, by the way, for a person who makes their living off of going into dungeons. If you score well, you may be invited to join an organization that goes into the wilds beyond the city walls and patrolled areas, where dungeons can spawn and dangerous animals—mana beasts—roam.”
She cleared her throat and began a run-down of each chamber.
The first chamber, they used too many Sigils for her liking, but overall they did very well, not even suffering injury. The use of tactics was deemed above average. Overall, they were rated at an eight out of ten.
In the second chamber, they scored nine out of ten. Except for the mistake of Shannon’s footstep, they were deemed as more than capable of handling traps. Nearly perfect.
The third chamber was more of a mixed bag. They had dealt with the Graveborn Striders but suffered some injuries. The tactic of splitting up the foes was seen as optimal, and Shannon especially received high praise, which made her beam with delight. Naomi, however, was heavily criticized due to her lack of killing blows delivered compared to the other three. Overall, seven out of ten.
“One thing to note here,” Seraphine said as she locked eyes with Eric, “Is that you fought something no one else could interact with. There are no recorded mentions of that happening before—we checked. Either it has happened and no one reported it, or the dungeon detected something unique about your Class. To that end, the king has commissioned a research group to delve through archives and libraries to dig up information on your Class. We have also sent word to Bhlast about your unique situation, as they have a prominent interest in dungeon anomalies, and this situation absolutely qualifies. They wish to examine you when their diplomatic group arrives in a few seasons.”
Eric felt his heart skip a beat. He was getting his ‘in’ to meet Luciana without having to do any extra legwork at all. If he didn’t have so much restraint and self-control, he would have fist-pumped and shouted for joy. Instead, he put on a quizzical look. “So I’m special, is what you’re saying.”
“Perhaps. But we don’t know to what extent. Now, onto the rest of your blind trial . . .”
She spoke about the obstacle course and how Peter really impressed them here with his creative means of passing the challenges. Naomi was praised for finding the mechanism that enabled the entire chamber to be bypassed. Eric was criticized for his lack of maneuverability. They were rated at eight out of ten.
The last chamber with the Corpse Amalgamation was where they had a truly mixed score. Peter’s dire injury was a big negative, but combined with their smart tactics and coordination, they ended up scoring six out of ten.
“Overall, thirty-eight out of fifty as a group,” Seraphine said as she flipped pages and began tearing out individual pages for the Summoned to look at. “Here are your individual scores.”
Eric looked down his personal score sheet, hoping he’d placed higher than he had the last time.
- Chamber 1 - 10/10
- Chamber 2 - 10/10
- Chamber 3 - 9/10
- Chamber 4 - 6/10
- Chamber 5 - 8/10
“Forty-three doesn’t seem too bad,” Eric said. He knew it was actually a really good score, considering the average Combat Class usually scored around thirty.
Shannon grinned and waved hers. “I got a forty-nine!”
Peter sighed. “Damn. Good job. I only got forty. Chamber five and the injury screwed up my score, big-time.”
Naomi remained silent, but she was gripping the paper with a white fist. Eric glanced over and saw her score. Eighteen. He rubbed her back reassuringly again. He tapped her outer thigh with four fingers, indicating to her that last time she had scored a four in the last timeline.
She looked over at him with wide eyes. “How?” She seemed to have picked up his message.
“It was rough,” Eric replied, leaving it at that.
He vividly recalled how she had lost a leg in the first chamber, had fallen into the acid pit three different times in the second chamber, had been run down and stomped to near-death in the third . . . The entire ordeal had been a mess with her constantly near-dying. It was one reason she’d become a recluse and why Eric had only spoken to her through gear she crafted, as she’d stayed fairly secluded minus her few world improvement projects. Even then, those were mostly done through intermediaries.
Seraphine let the Summoned take in the numbers for a moment before speaking. “At the soirée, you will be approached by some of these diving organizations. The most prominent is the Delvers’ Guild, but there are other groups, such as the Twilight Depths Consortium that only deal with the mega dungeon in the capital. There are dozens of smaller organizations.”
She pointedly looked at only Eric, then Shannon, then Peter. “You three will be sought out by these groups.” Then, she looked at Naomi. “Don’t fret, Tinkerer Takinaka. These same organizations often have in-house Gathering, Refining, and Artisan Classes. But earning their interest will require you to make something of note.”
Naomi seemed to breathe a little easier at that, and her grip on the paper became less tense. “Thanks.”
“You did well as an Artisan Class. Be proud of that score. Refiner Kole—I believe she also goes by Mama K—scored a twenty on her first-floor clear: the highest ever recorded for a non-Combat Class. You almost tied hers. Be proud of that.” Seraphine stood up and put her notebook away. “You have a few hours to spend here doing what you want, and then the instructors will arrive. I wish you the best.”
“What about what we’ll wear?” Peter asked.
“Butler Benson Gravis has already taken your measurements, so—”
“How?” Shannon asked.
Seraphine’s smile cracked a second time, with clear irritation at being interrupted again. “A Trait, I presume, that lets him note your dimensions at a glance. In any case, he is a bit of a fashionista with an eye for excellent attire. You will be dressed well, don’t worry.” That said, Seraphine curtsied and headed toward the foyer.
Eric glanced at Peter, noting he was slightly flustered at the statement.
In the last timeline, Benson and Peter had been quite amorous with each other. But it had taken Peter nearly dying in the Twilight Depths to realize he had so much life to live and couldn’t keep his true desires suppressed forever: not with death so close around every corner while inside the mega dungeon. However, that connection had been made too late; the bond was not strong enough to force Peter to resist the allure of greater power from going deeper and deeper, until one day he just never returned.
Eric needed to prompt that connection sooner rather than later. He couldn’t risk Peter nearly dying before he would finally realize there was something outside the mega dungeon worth coming home to. Hopefully, getting the two together earlier would result in a stronger connection between the Butler and the Reaver, and thus Peter would be less likely to go dive-crazy, as he would be incentivized to take consistent breaks to return home from the Twilight Depths to visit his beloved.
This is for you, Peter.
Eric got up and moved after Seraphine. Mari had opened the front door, and the Magistra was on her way down toward the gate. “Quick question,” he said, loud enough that everyone still inside the lounge could hear him.
Seraphine turned around. “Yes?”
“What is Trok’s overall opinion on men like Benson who seem more effeminate? I don’t see him as a uh . . . ladies’ man, if you understand my meaning.”
Seraphine shrugged. “What happens in a person’s bedchambers is their own business. As long as they do not break public-decency laws, their choices are their own. Other kingdoms, and some regions besides the capital, will be less tolerant. Flescion in particular detests anything other than female same-sex and straight relationships, as they elevate women above men, and view pregnancy as holy. Some places such as the Empire of Pwish are male dominant, whereas Bhlast is fully neutral on the matter entirely.”
“Thanks,” Eric replied. “I was just curious.”
Seraphine inclined her head, “Come walk with me through the garden, Blackflame Mage Mercer. I would speak with you briefly, if you would spare me a few minutes of your time.”
Eric glanced back and saw Peter’s face poking out of the still-ajar door alongside Mari’s. The man looked abashed, but had a slight smile on the corner of his lips.
And there you go, Peter, Eric thought. Now you won’t feel as awkward when I tell Benson you’re into him. I never imagined playing matchmaker, but you won’t want to go dive-crazy if you have someone you love up on the surface to bring you back home each night. A bit of manipulation for your benefit. You’re welcome.
Eric joined Seraphine in the small flower garden, which was on the opposite side of the estate from the pools. The workshop stood nearby; a separate building that looked like its own small cottage. She sat down on a stone bench in the middle of a crushed stone path between the pansies. “What did you want to discuss?” Eric asked.
Seraphine shot him an inquisitive look. “Blackflame—”
“Just Eric is fine.”
Seraphine swallowed, her composure lapsing into concern. “Eric. I know you believe in fate, or destiny if you prefer the term. I have consulted with a Divination Mage—”
Of course you did. Too bad their predictions only take into account the most probable outcome and can never be perfectly accurate, since free will is a thing.
“—and he advised me that you would work for the good of the kingdom, even if your methods seemed unorthodox to me.” She sighed, and her regal demeanor finally slipped away. Eric, for the first time, saw her as a regular person: someone with doubts and fears. “There are problems here in Trok. I am aware of some, and have heard stirrings of others.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Eric replied, playing up his new-arrival role.
That inquisitive look became one of sharp concern, and Seraphine continued, “I have even kept other small council members away from you. Those whose motives give me grave concern. As your handler, I have a large amount of discretion in these matters.”
I was correct in my assumption that she is keeping the Admiral and Steward away from us. Thank you for that.
Eric frowned and said, "What do you mean by those who have motives that give you concern?"
"Don't you worry about them." Seraphine’s sharp concern faded to warmth. “You are an outside factor, an unknown force who is not corrupt. From the brief conversations we have had, you seem like you have a good heart, if one driven by greed. I would seek your assistance in fixing the problems plaguing us from within, including some at the highest levels of our government. I would ensure you were compensated, of course, for your work.”
“You didn’t even have to ask,” Eric replied sincerely. “Trok is going to be my home. You gave me a house to live in, a stipend, serving staff in the estate, and access to a means of progressing in my Path. I want this place to be the best it can be. I’ll do what I can to help it get there. I don’t even mind that we are restricted to being in the capital, though my allies do chafe at the limitation.”
Seraphine smiled. An authentic smile. Not fake and plastered on as if she was forcing a mask to shroud her true intentions. “That is good. I must say, your question about effeminate people caught me off guard.”
“Ah, that’s not the direction I lean toward,” Eric replied. “Let’s just say I got the feeling that Benson was into other fellows based on his interaction with me, and I was simply curious about how Trok treats it. On Earth, it really depends on where in the world a person lives. Some places punish it with death, while others are fine with it. I am interested in women, personally. But, I felt as if Benson was eyeing me in a manner that showed interest, hence my inquiry.”
Seraphine shook her head. “Bigotry exists, but not in Trok or Bhlast—at least not in public. Some may hold those views privately, though.” She stood up. “You and the other Summoned will doubtless be approached by eligible bachelors and bachelorettes at the event. People who seek to marry you into their families for fame and prestige. It is not a bad way to make friends and benefactors, but it will mean others become your enemies.”
She smiled. “Romantic endeavors amongst the nobility move quickly, so you should expect people to be quite forward about their propositions, and for offers of marriage within weeks if not days.
Eric stood up and let out a sigh for show. “Wow. That’s a lot.” He chuckled. “Hopefully there are a lot of not only gorgeous, but smart and strong women at this event whom I find myself enamored with.”
“I am sure at least one will catch your fancy.”
“Good to know. I’ll tell the others to expect rapid romance.” He grinned. “I look forward to learning about the culture at the event, and maybe even finding a prospective partner myself. Though, I must ask, would anyone be insulted if we asked for more time to consider engagements? Days or weeks is considered moving really quickly from where I come from.”
Seraphine’s lips pursed slightly, but she nodded. “I understand. As long as you present that fact, then I doubt any would brook hostility toward you for requesting or prompting an elongated courtship.”
I actually am looking forward to seeing what options there are, Eric thought. I’m not going to hedge all of my bets on Luciana falling in love with me in this timeline. There are old blood families I can entertain offers from that would strengthen my position in Trok. And this time, people will actually approach me, since I won’t be taken by the Admiral.
“One last question,” Seraphine said as she turned and lowered her voice to a near-whisper. “How did you know how to perform a proper Elyndian bow back in The Twilight Depths?”
In that moment, during that slip up, Eric had logged the incident in his memories. He had thought about how he would respond if questioned, and thankfully his assumption was correct. His prepared answer came out smoothly as he said, “That first night when we arrived, during my dreams, I had a vision of standing in front of someone on a dance floor, but everything was blurry. We bowed to each other before dancing. I tried to replicate that. Did I do it wrong?”
Seraphine shook her head, and her lips turned up into a little smile. “You did it perfectly.”