Ranthia, at long last, was done. She had been forced to make another three trips to retrieve different passed out trainees that were so dead to the world that none of the women reacted to being carried. She had to haul them to the villa where the appropriate servants took custody of them. It was well after dark when the instructors dismissed her without even thanking her for her assistance.

  Ranthia’s armor was in desperate need of some proper maintenance after she’d been trapped in it for so long while they were abused. It could wait. A bath should have been her first stop, but even that could wait for morning. As could her tormented stomach.

  She was focused on only one thing: the bed that awaited her.

  Unfortunately, no matter how the bed in her room called to her, it seemed that Ranthia wasn’t allowed to rest. Someone was in her room. The door was ajar, and she could barely see the shadow moving in the gloom of the night. Ranthia placed her hands on her knives—she wasn’t quite twitchy enough to murder a servant, thankfully, so they remained in their sheaths—and entered.

  Inside was a man, pale and thin. His hair was white. His eyes were red. And something about him just instinctively filled Ranthia with enough fear of the danger he posed that her knives were in her hands, and she had two mirror images inside the room before she had quite consciously decided how to react.

  Even before her heart threatened to stop when [Divine-Touched Identify] fed her his information. Level 520 [Warrior]—an impossibility—was bad enough… but something about the man set her on edge. Some primordial terror whispered promises of her demise deep within the core of her being. The man was danger incarnate, and she had no possible defense. He was something worse than his level indicated, though she had no idea why she felt that way.

  Raw terror gripped her, in a way that was all too reminiscent of the terrible night when she had realized Perinthus was at risk of being put to the torch. It was a hopeless terror, borne of the knowledge that there was nothing she could do to protect herself. A horrific sense of helplessness that Ranthia had hoped—in vain—to have forever escaped.

  “Be at ease, Trainee Ranthia. I am Sentinel Night. I apologize for the unpleasant surprise, but I believe that you and I are overdue for a conversation. Please, walk with me.” His voice was polite and smooth, with the tiniest hint of a certain general weariness to it.

  Ranthia blinked several times, as she tried to make sense of her mangled emotions. Fatigue that gave way to adrenaline followed by sheer godsdamned horror left her more than a little discombobulated, but at length she warily returned her knives to their sheaths and dismissed her mirror images. Not that any of it would have done her a bit of good had he wanted her dead, she reminded herself. She was utterly dead on her feet, but she managed to nod and convince her feet to move again.

  The Sentinel began to walk, and she fell in two steps behind him. Somehow, with a small group, whatever nonsense that screwed up her ability to parade march didn’t apply, so it wasn’t like she struggled to match his pace or anything.

  “I am something of an expert at restriction skills and your instructors have informed me that yours has already caused you problems. While I have already selected Trainee Statia as my student for the training that begins soon, I would be remiss if I did not speak with you.”

  The man was the first being she had ever seen with three classes. He was the highest level anything that she had ever encountered (at least in her current lifetime). …And she had pointed her knives at him! The strange, pale man was silent for a period of time even though it obviously wasn’t a statement that she needed to respond to. Ranthia was somewhat grateful though for the strange pause; she really needed a chance to think.

  “Will you please do me the honor of sharing with me the full language of your covenant with the deity?” The man prompted.

  Ranthia bristled ever so slightly. She had discovered something she had never known about herself at the Ranger Academy: She absolutely hated sharing her Covenant with other beings. It was sacred and eminently personal. It was meant to be something between her and Xaoc alone. She had never even shared the details with Tatius or Pupius. Yet at the academy she was forced to disclose it more than once!

  Ranthia still recited it, silently seething the entire time.

  “Whether I am your Paladin or just another blade,

  I will always accept Chaos and carry it with me.

  I will do what I can to reject the stagnation of Order,

  and I shall endeavor to spare those that cause true Chaos.

  I shall never accept those who court the final form of Order, destruction,

  for their actions may briefly be chaotic but they ultimately deny Your goals.

  In every place I visit, every battle I bring havoc to, every life I touch,

  I shall do my utmost to add a little more Chaos into our world.

  And you may always call upon me to exert your will upon this world,

  I was and forever shall be your Paladin and herald, even on this path.

  You gave me a second chance and an opportunity to sculpt myself anew,

  And so, this life is hereby pledged to the service of Chaos and to You.”

  Sentinel Night was silent for a time once again. Ranthia was beginning to suspect that the man had a fondness for ponderous silences.

  “Thank you, I realize that speaking of such a vow asks much from you. First, I wish to touch on chaos itself. There are those who will tell you that chaos has no place amongst the Rangers. They will assert that Rangers are agents of order. …They are short-sighted. Rangers are the tool we use to discover and fix problems within Remus. Rangers will frequently cause extensive chaos as they carry out their duty, as the uprooting of the day-to-day order is a necessity to cut that which must be excised.”

  “Of course, chaos is important to a healthy society. I wouldn’t serve Xaoc if I wasn’t aware of that.” Ranthia interjected saltily.

  She had already begun to chafe at the man’s propensity towards long pauses in the conversation. She was exhausted and she had a bed waiting for her. Ranthia felt that conversations required a certain level of energy that the pauses just lacked. And she was tired enough that her irritability managed to override her sense, even with her survival instinct still screaming nonstop.

  The pale Sentinel chuckled lightly.

  “Very well, I shall move on to my second takeaway. Your vow suggests you previously held a [Paladin] class, but abandoned it? Gods seldom let their paladins go so readily.”

  Ranthia stopped moving and, yet a-fucking-gain, panic seized her. Dozens of responses played out in her head. She could deny it. She could refuse to speak. She could ask him to forget he heard anything. None of them felt promising.

  In hindsight, she wanted to curse at herself for not omitting the final sentence. The truth was hanging right there in the open!

  Exhaustion quashed all the excuses; she just didn’t trust herself enough at the moment to craft a plausible lie or bit of misdirection. And she’d already given up the secret anyway, and she wasn’t about to assume an extremely high level Sentinel was an idiot.

  “…I’ve never spoken of this to anyone, not even the men who raised me. I am god-touched. Xaoc Himself plucked me when I perished in a prior life. He judged me too orderly, though I was a paladin in his service. He put me back into the world with orders to be tempered with chaos. My first memory after that is my system unlocking, moments after a surprisingly young Ranger [Healer] cured …my body of her plagues. I don’t care if you believe me, but that’s the truth.”

  More silence, both of them had stopped moving. Since she made no move to resume her walk, he waited with her.

  “I see, thank you for sharing. There was a time I would have suggested that you speak to Priest Demos. His successor is wholly unable to fill the shoes that were left for him, but it would still be proper for you to speak to him. I will ensure that time is set aside for you to do so, in the future.”

  He paused only briefly, before he began to walk again.

  “For what it is worth, I believe you can still become a fine Ranger, little Adventurer.”

  Ranthia made no move to follow him; she was mostly certain that his final statement was intended as a dismissal. It felt more proper given the occasion, so she bowed, in her old comfortable way, rather than using the Remus salute.

  “Oh, one last thing. I have taken up some of your valuable rest and recovery time. Perhaps this will make up for it.” The man called back, before he gestured off-handedly in her direction.

  A sudden gale whipped up around Ranthia for a single heartbeat, and then it was gone.

  And she was clean. Just as clean as if she had shifted into one of her mirror images. The sand, sweat, mud and filth that had accumulated on her and inside her armor was just… gone.

  The man walked away, and she wondered briefly at which of his three classes did that. …At least until her exhaustion reasserted itself, far more prominently than it had been before, as it insisted that she needed to make her way back to her room before she collapsed outside.

  The next week was devoted to recovery, but Ranthia awoke—rather late in the day by her standards—in a giddy mood.

  Levels above 512 were possible! Her embarrassment at calling A-Ranked Adventurers the equal of Sentinels was a distant fiddle to the reignition of her dreams. Her third class wasn’t an impossibility that she had to set aside. It wasn’t merely possible, but Night had been… well, she had no idea how old he was, but he certainly wasn’t decrepit!

  Once again, Ranthia allowed herself to dream of what she could become.

  On day 1 of the recovery period, the only thing on offer was a thin, mild soup since their appetites had to be retrained. The food slowly built back up. Ranthia even put off maintaining her armor for an extra day while she mostly slept in or prayed to Xaoc (she had catching up to do, which left her mildly incensed). She knew better than most that her body had been pushed to the brink by aggressive exercise while barely on the right side of starvation (which, honestly, should have felt familiar to her body, but it didn’t). Even her mind had been taxed heavily, especially when she started to train [Reflective Motility]. Light exercises only showed up in her routine after the second day passed.

  Ranthia hadn’t miraculously gotten any class levels out of the hell months, not that she expected to. Only her [Warrior] class might have liked that stuff, and it was capped and ready to class up. She did get skill levels, of course. [Persistent Imagery] had actually—finally—capped, which was exciting (…and nerve-wracking since that had been her true body she was abusing). It was the only class skill that had leveled, but Ranthia could live with that with her General Skill gains. [Ranger’s Lore] was already up to 96, but she supposed the Ranger Academy was probably designed to bolster it. [Fast Learner] had gotten up to 106. And somehow [Image Recall] had gotten a single level.

  Ranthia remained largely antisocial, since her prayers to Xaoc didn’t count. She did eventually accept an invitation from some of the other female trainees to use the baths downstairs with them, but once she realized she was looking a little too closely at her peers she vowed to not visit with them again. Instead, she spent an evening with one of the prostitutes to reset herself.

  Towards the end of the recovery period the Adventurers that had volunteered to attend the Academy held a gathering. One of their number—a surprisingly only B-Ranked man that Ranthia wasn’t sure she had ever seen before—had somehow sourced the wood for a fire pit and some raw meat to cook for their little group. Strategically, none of them asked how he came by the bounty, they just happily indulged in grilled and roasted meats while they chattered or traded boasts.

  It was a wondrous blend of surprising and completely expected, but not a one of them had dropped out during the hell months! Go Team Adventurer’s Guild, Ranthia was proud that they had collectively proven that they had iron in their blood. Not literally, of course (at least as far as Ranthia knew), and admittedly they were hand-picked by the Guildmaster. Odds are the wily man had some inside information about what they would face and had selected ones that he believed could take it, but after so many trainees dropped out the fact that they had all 24 was still impressive.

  “Okay, I’ll admit it if no one else will. I damn near dropped out when we started the log carries. I think my hands and shoulder are going to be chafed for the rest of my life, and on day 1 the shitstain behind me kept ‘accidentally’ touching my butt with his legs. Claimed his feet were getting stuck in the sand, which was dumb because none of us were having that problem. Got lucky though, he dropped out before I beat the shit out of him and got kicked out.” Bia (still not her name) confessed.

  “Ugh, yeah. I thought for sure I was going to drop out during the mud barrage. Would have been a damned shame to lose my golden ticket into the A Ranks. Oh, right—thanks for drawing their fire on that, Gob-Slasher!” One of the B-Ranked men called out.

  “Don’t shorten it, Nose, it’s bad enough!” Ranthia snapped back.

  “Noise! My title is Noise!” He protested.

  “Wait, go back. You’re getting into the A Ranks for doing this? Ugh, I knew the Guildmaster accepted the payment I requested awfully fast.” Bia grumbled.

  “Well, this and at least two rotations as a Ranger.” No(i)se answered.

  “Wait, wait! What in Xaoc’s name are you two talking about? You’re getting bonus incentives for doing this?” Ranthia demanded.

  The entire group fell silent and turned towards her. It was like they had rehearsed it; they nodded in perfect fucking unison. Then the mockery started, led by Kaesios.

  So, it turned out that those questions people had asked that Ranthia had ignored, back when the Ranger thing got pitched to the first-choice group, made it clear that the Guildmaster was willing to privately negotiate with those that accepted for bonuses. Most of the group negotiated—with varying proficiency—for cold, hard coin. A few were getting promotions out of success. One—the A-Ranked that replaced Rockfall—was gunning for leadership of one of the bigger branches.

  Every single one of them had something more than the glory of being a Ranger to aim for. Except for Ranthia, who had desperately clung on to her girlfriend’s hopes instead.

  Nothing was worse than missing out on a chance for greater wealth and only having yourself to blame!

  The recovery period came to an end and the trainees were gathered once again. They were—briefly—praised for their success and then were given their schedule (or had it read to them). These would be the first set of courses to help shore up their weaker areas and help them become true Rangers, or something like that; Ranthia had gotten a bit distracted with parsing out the scroll she was given.

  4th Gong: Physical Exercise

  5th Gong: Breakfast

  6th Gong: Advanced Reading & Writing

  7th Gong: Fundamentals of Imperial Law

  8th Gong: Mental Exercise

  9th Gong: Field Cooking

  10th Gong: Group Sparring

  11th Gong: 1-on-1 Sparring

  12th Gong: Lunch

  13th Gong: Geography & Cartography

  14th Gong: Obstacle Course

  15th Gong: Advanced Monster Slaying

  16th Gong: Sailing

  18th Gong: Dinner

  19th Gong: Field Leadership Training

  20th Gong: Countering Sapient Foes

  22nd Gong: Sentinel Hunting (when available, otherwise Meditation)

  A full schedule that left little room to rest, but at least it seemed reasonable and there were several things on there that she looked forward to. Not the fundamentals of imperial law though, that sounded horrendous. She had no idea what the 13th Gong course said or part of the 20th Gong name, but she supposed that was what the 6th Gong course would fix eventually.

  Okay, yes, she mildly regretted not attending more of the lessons the Guild had offered.

  There were roughly two dozen trainees in Advanced Reading & Writing. They mostly just read a large variety of scrolls, which were supposedly sourced broadly. Some were old after-action reports from Ranger teams. Some were records of songs that bards wrote. One set was a positively impossible to comprehend monstrosity called the Medical Manuscripts.

  Everything they read was, of course, just a copy. Each of them was expected to read through their task, receiving assistance from the instructor as necessary, before they briefly discussed what they read. Then they had to write a new copy without issues and with limited access to the original. And, of course, some of the copies they read had intentional errors in spelling or such that they were supposed to catch.

  It was boring, but Ranthia tried to focus on the positives. Not only did it help her reading and writing skills, but her reading speed seemed to improve nearly daily.

  She might have slightly hated it.

  Fundamentals of Imperial Law was somehow even worse than she had expected. Instead of any of the regular instructors, some self-important windbag from the capital showed up to speak down vaguely in their direction. Worse, the windbag often lost himself in unrelated tangents, which made it challenging to figure out which noises he made were important and which could be ignored. The course was held in the largest room in the villa, but almost every trainee was in attendance so despite the space they were down to standing room only. Desk space was competitive and Ranthia just hated the whole thing.

  Ranthia was always heavily tempted to shift into a mirror image and do something else, but she didn’t want to fail any course and get kicked out of the academy. For all the man’s faults with speaking, he wasn’t prone to repeating himself.

  Once again, Ranthia gritted her teeth and tried to focus. For Hexara’s peace of mind, she could deal with it. Probably.

  Mental Exercise was a surprisingly small class, only five trainees. The other four were pure [Mages]. It was a bit of an odd class, too. On the first day the instructor guided them through thought exercises and what-if scenarios. The next day was puzzles, both written and made from carved wood. Some days they focused on being thorough with their solutions and reasoning. Others they instead focused on raw speed. Sometimes the instructor caused distractions or forced them to attempt to focus on multiple different objectives simultaneously.

  It was surprising, but Ranthia ended up deciding the course was one of her favorites. It required a certain degree of flexibility that spoke to her.

  Field Cooking was all about taking scavenged ingredients and making safe, healthy meals with few or no city-acquired supplies. The instructor was fond of saying the 30 of them would, if they became Rangers, be the sole hope of keeping their fellow Rangers both loyal and hale.

  The information was—largely—novel and interesting, but it also made Ranthia miss her old [Soups & Stews] skill desperately. Still, the course, in theory, promised to help her be less reliant on Skills and maybe—maybe—if it panned out as the instructor promised, Ranthia wouldn’t need to take the skill again once she finally freed up one of her general skill slots.

  The first several sparring classes were, surprisingly, done wholly without any Skills aside from passives that were impossible to disable. It was reminiscent of her earliest days as a Light [Mage] wielding a knife supported only by a few General Skills. The class gave Ranthia an opportunity to focus on her increasingly dance-like knife fighting style that she had been evolving. Dodge, weave, strike; the crux of it was to always keep her motions flowing from one to the next without interruption.

  Ranthia’s reach was awful since she used knives, but in spite of that she felt that she did decently in both the groups and the singles. Especially for a hybrid [Mage]/[Warrior].

  The unreadable course turned out to be navigation and maps. She had no idea why they used more complex words for such simple ideas, but she was happy to take the course. It was all about long-range navigation, something she honestly had absolutely no experience with. Memorizing landmarks to help orient yourself was familiar, but it was only the starting line for the tricks that the course taught her. Plant life was a surprising focus. The instructor taught them that they could recognize impending shifts in terrain using the local vegetation to minimize time spent going in the wrong direction, for example.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  The course also covered how to read and even make maps. Every map Ranthia had ever seen was somewhat simplistic, but in that course she got to study maps of considerably higher quality and accuracy. There was one map though that interested her far more than any of the others. Its accuracy and scale were dubious, but it actually contained more than just Remus.

  It was a glimpse of the Pallos that she had dreamed of.

  Only ten of them were in that class, which seemed odd. Shouldn’t everyone be in such a useful course?

  The obstacle course was almost boring, even with her hybrid stat focus she was in a league beyond what the course had been designed for. Then the instructors made her do it with her right arm tied behind her back. From there it became much more interesting, especially as the instructors changed things around or added penalties and handicaps to them as soon as they adapted.

  As best she could tell, all of the trainees that were left were part of the course, similar to the sparring and the morning physical exercise.

  Advanced Monster Slaying wasn’t the course she was expecting… it was so much better and was as fascinating a challenge as her Mental Exercise course. This course was about figuring out how to slay monsters that you had never seen before or were at a much, much higher level than you were. It also covered caster monsters and those with potent auras. It was her Adventurer career turned into a series of logic puzzles, and she loved it. It was fun to discuss and debate the merits of different tactics, especially with the weight of her experience behind her. She had even fought monsters that were unheard of!

  …Until hellhounds came up. Not that the instructor believed her when she claimed to have fought them before (even with most of the other Adventurers backing her up). The class also discussed a variety of monsters and creatures that she had never heard of before, such as hydras. And yet, there the hellhounds were, amidst these exotic beasts.

  Which—in light of the map that Ranthia was so enamored with—led her to a conclusion. This course was about monsters found beyond Remus’ borders. It only made the hellhounds even more mysterious than they had been, but it was exciting to think about.

  The Rangers knew more about Pallos than she had dared to hope!

  All of the Adventurers and a handful of others were in the course.

  Sailing started in the classroom, but quickly transitioned out onto actual boats. The hundred or so trainees in the course were divided up into groups of twenty-four per boat, with a separate instructor or sailor for each. Ranthia ended up in the last group, one with only fifteen others, taught by an instructor that warned them that someone else might sometimes teach their group.

  At least she didn’t get sick to her stomach on boats like a few others did.

  Ranthia’s exact same group of sixteen trainees from Sailing showed up again for Field Leadership Training, without a single other trainee present. That course was pretty much all about recovering from disasters. What happened when your team’s leader and whomever was second in command fell in battle or to other threats. It was about restoring control over her fellow Rangers when the normal chain of command failed.

  Or assuming command when her own expertise dwarfed that of the proper team leaders.

  It also covered the Ranger hand-signals that were normally taught in a different class during that block. Ranthia had kind of dreaded trying to learn them, figuring she would struggle desperately with it. …Instead, she was one of the fastest in their small group to pick them up.

  Her mind was so fucking weird sometimes.

  Countering Sapient Foes technically had eight students in it. In practice, they were each paired one-on-one with a member of Ranger Team 1.

  “If a group of classers surrounded you with hostile intent, what would you do first?”

  “Assess their levels, while evading or defending myself against attacks if necessary. I suppose my response would in part depend on who they were. …Sir.” Ranthia very nearly forgot the ‘Sir’.

  “Oh, please, just call me Kallisto. I’m not in the mood to be all formal with an attractive young woman like you. Now let’s say they’re total strangers this time and you have no idea who might be behind them or why they’re after you, how would that affect your response?”

  The course was a strange mixture of what-if scenarios, army or group tactics, the value of keeping abilities hidden to maximize their advantage, and how to react to different class archetypes and elements. Ranthia enjoyed the class, even if she found her instructor for it a bit much.

  As for her meetings with Sentinel Hunting… Their first interaction was strange.

  “I just came here to tell you this to your face. Forget it, I’m not going to teach someone else to be a Void [Mage]! I get too much shit from our allies. Don’t know if I truly buy the shit or not, but I’m not going to inflict that on some kid.”

  From her perspective, she was waiting out on the beach when an angry armored man with a beard—a true rarity in Remus—that was, inexplicably, blue came up to her and started ranting.

  “…What?” Ranthia replied, completely lost.

  It was just her and Sentinel Hunting (there was zero doubt he was a Sentinel), and fortunately he was less… intense of a presence than Sentinel Night was, even if Hunting’s level was technically higher. [Warrior – Forest] level 502, [Mage – Void] level 547, and [Artisan – Metal] level 14.

  He was less overwhelming to be around, but it sure didn’t help her understand what was going on!

  “I was asked to speak with you to help you advance from Dark to Void. But I’m not going to help someone else become a Void [Mage]. I’m not sure what you said to convince Night, but you won’t convince me.” The man promised with a steely look in his eyes.

  Briefly, Ranthia couldn’t explain how anyone knew she was considering trying to gain the Void element, before she realized that she had mentioned it to the Guildmaster exactly once. The bastard cunning man had probably let someone know as part of however he pitched her and the other Adventurers. Still, Hunting seemed to be making a strange assumption…

  Ranthia decided to start there.

  “My [Mage] class is Mirror aspected. It’s my second class, my [Warrior] class, that’s currently Dark. I’d been waiting to class up and I’m seriously considering making it Void, though I certainly haven’t asked anyone to help me do it!” Ranthia corrected, trying desperately to reign in her budding frustration.

  Hunting seemed to physically pause for a moment while he considered her words. Then he shrugged, grinned, and plopped right down into the sand to sit down.

  “Oh, well in that case sit down. I don’t know how this works for Void, so don’t ask, but I do know that each element has different ‘types’ that can be a little better or worse. Like Fire could be the flames from a campfire or a big grease fire that’s almost impossible to extinguish. I’ve been told by wise men that sometimes meditating on the nature of an advanced element can help you reach for it though.

  “So, what is Void to you? I should probably let you go first to avoid poisoning the well—don’t use that phrase around Toxic by the way—but I’ll go first just to give you an idea. I didn’t have this in mind when I unlocked the element, mind, but it’s how I feel now. To me, Void is an absence. A dark gap that is where something should be, a darkness that eats and erodes all.”

  Ranthia shuddered as she slid back into her long-repressed memories, but at last she spoke in a quiet tone.

  “No, to me Void is nothingness. It can’t be darkness; darkness is merely the absence of light. But nothing can be absent where nothing exists. Even if you find yourself in such a… Void you begin to scatter and lose yourself. It’s not that it erases or erodes you, it’s just nothing can exist in the Void… There’s no escape, there’s no hope, there’s no existence. There’s only nothingness.”

  “Huh, well that sounds like a hell of a thing.” Hunting replied, before he produced a jug of wine and a couple of battered iron cups.

  They ended up drinking together and just… talking.

  Later, Ranthia realized why Hunting’s description sounded familiar. In an abstract sort of way, it reminded her of how she felt when Tatius and Pupius had died. It made her wonder if his Void was rooted in grief, but she had enough tact that she’d never ask.

  But she knew her Void could never be grief. Grief was something. Her Void could never be something, it was a true nothingness. One that Ranthia still believed had eroded some part of her in her brief encounter with it.

  She had considered the Void element, but she had never quite consciously grasped what Void was to her before. Now that she had, the idea of wielding it haunted her. But, at length, she began to see the appeal in viewing it as a sort of transactional exchange. The Void had taken from her, but instead she could look at it as giving it a piece of herself so that she could master it in turn.

  It could become the tool that kept her alive and ended anything that threatened her or those she cares about.

  Time progressed. [Fast Learner], unsurprisingly, absolutely loved the Academy, as did [Ranger’s Lore] of course.

  Sentinel Hunting was almost never around though, often Ranthia went weeks without seeing him. When he actually showed up, she never quite knew what would happen. Sometimes they just talked and drank together. Sometimes they seriously discussed the Void element or practical skills like tracking monsters. Occasionally he beat her senseless under the guise of sparring.

  Ranthia wished that she could say she gave as good as she got, but even if they were both [Warrior]/[Mage] hybrids, Hunting had a shitload of levels on her and almost certainly had high quality classes. If anything, she was sure that he was holding back—massively—since she never ended up at a [Healer] afterwards, she was only bruised—never broken.

  She had figured out that he was almost certainly the Sentinel that killed the monster that had taken her family from her; for some reason Void [Mages] seemed to be a hole in her chaos-given familiarity with the capabilities of different classes and elements. Unfortunately, Hunting seemed to only vaguely recall the beast. To him, she supposed, it had been just another task. No matter how important it had been to her.

  Ranthia had to admit though, she had grown to like the strangely-bearded man surprisingly quickly. Hunting had a wicked sense of humor once they got comfortable enough to be a bit more open with one another, plus it helped that she was sure that Pupius would have gotten along famously with the Sentinel had they ever hung out. Hunting also often spoke of a companion bond he used to have: an abelisaurus that had caused nearly as many incidents as she had solved, the aptly named Katastrofi.

  His Katastrofi stories were the best. Ranthia spent days randomly giggling at inopportune moments when her bored mind suddenly recalled some fragment of his story about how Katastrofi got banned from entering Ariminum. In the Abelisaurus’ defense, the senator should have never let their dog run up to the juvenile dinosaur, barking the whole time. Hunting wasn’t the first one to lose control of his animal!

  Hunting had also given Ranthia a piece of advice that she had never expected one session:

  “Do yourself the biggest favor ever. Get your second class higher level than your first. Keep it higher, no matter what you have to do. The dwarves and elves—no idea if I’m supposed to tell you about them so keep your mouth shut—anyhow, they do not like Void [Mages]. Nearly had an elf attack me once already on the front. That [Warrior] tag will make your life a shitload easier.”

  It was probably great advice, but Ranthia was almost completely distracted by the revelation that had prompted it. Dwarves and elves! Elves were real! They were part of her knowledge, but she’d never had any context, merely the fact that they were impossible to miss. And yet no one had ever known what they were and she herself had never seen one! Ranthia sometimes doubted her chaos-granted knowledge—it was wrong from time to time after all—but if elves were real and were from beyond Remus’ borders…!

  …Okay she had no idea what that meant.

  But her knowledge was right!

  During one of their more social sessions (and after a lot of wine, the man could drink!), Ranthia mentioned to Hunting that she had once broken her primary class when it got a skill that required a mental image more detailed than she knew how to create. Loosely bearing in mind the advice of her former Guildmaster—the wiser one from Sardonia—she avoided getting into the hows or specificity about what the skill did, but she complained about how long it took her to make a mental image that worked properly. And, more importantly, as it turned out, mentioned that she had to use a mirror and even still it took a huge chunk of the day to make an image.

  The next day Hunting showed her a strip of cloth dyed a deep blue.

  “What is it?” Ranthia asked.

  “New assignment. I talked to a few other Sentinels about what you told me and got some advice that might help you. You’re too focused on what your eyes can see. You should know yourself unerringly. This is a blindfold, I want you to figure out how to make a mental image of yourself, one that has you wearing this over your eyes, with it tied in place. But no mirrors! Do your damned best to avoid even looking at anything reflective until you’ve got it. You can touch the blindfold if you want, but you’re forbidden from picking it up or putting it on you. I’ll get someone out here to hold it for you when I’m not around, but you can’t take it with you either.”

  Okay, maybe Ranthia had explained more than she had thought about how her skills worked. But there was a bigger issue!

  “I… I don’t know if I can.” Ranthia nervously confessed. She didn’t want to refuse, but she didn’t want to waste time on something that was impossible. She needed to devote time to studying herself to form a fresh image, that was just how it worked.

  “We Sentinels are asked to do the impossible all the time. As a Ranger you’ll have to figure out the impossible sometimes too. So don’t waste time worrying that you can’t do something, just figure out a way to do it. You’re only allowed to give up when you’ve tried your hardest. …Or died, I guess.”

  Spring was only days away. Sentinel Hunting had returned after a long absence. He kept moving and messing with his left arm in a way that made her suspect he had gone without it for a while. It was a tic that Ranthia had seen before. [Healers] were awesome, but once people got used to life without a limb Ranthia figured—and had half-experienced—that it could be challenging to get used to having it again.

  Ranthia had, only recently, finally crafted a mental image she was satisfied with. Using [Image Recall] to make a base was something she had figured out previously and she was pretty sure that she had accomplished the task with that weeks ago… but she never manifested that image. Somehow Ranthia suspected the exercise wasn’t intended as ‘use a Skill to avoid the majority of the work.’ Ranthia was surprised at just how much her mind recoiled from the idea of lying to or disappointing her mostly-absent mentor who taught her in fits and starts. He wanted her to learn how to visualize herself without examining herself in a mirror; he wanted her to know herself. So that was what she aimed to do.

  Her earliest attempts had been pretty bad, especially the first one which omitted her face entirely and had a completely incorrect blue cloth sticking out of the otherwise smooth flesh roughly about where the eyes should have been. Slowly she started becoming better at visualizing herself without fresh references. And then it still took a lot of time to become satisfied with making the blindfold sit over her face in a realistic manner. Perfecting its length after it was knotted was no easy feat, especially since she was forbidden from tying a knot in the real thing. Fortunately, the rope she worked with in her sailing course actually gave her some insight into the problem.

  But she was finally ready. When Ranthia reported her success, Hunting simply nodded, as if he had been dead certain she would have had it by then. She had never been quite so optimistic, but she was more flattered than put out by his nonreaction. Then, he spoke words she definitely wasn’t expecting.

  “Right, now that you’ve learned more about yourself, it’s time for you to class up your [Warrior] class! I know you probably wanted to wait until you graduate, but we need to see what we’re working with. I’ll personally watch over you and hopefully nothing comes up that pulls me away. If it does, I’ll get at least two of the more trustworthy folk around.”

  Ranthia opened her mouth to reply, but Hunting gave her a look while he picked at his signature blue beard. The look plainly communicated that he expected her to have already started the process.

  Better to obey, she supposed.

  “Welcome.” Her guide waited, identical to the last time she had seen the woman… quite some time ago.

  She wasn’t put out over Ranthia’s long absence or anything. She was Ranthia and was always a part of her. Ranthia didn’t need to class up for her guide to experience life.

  “Okay, I guess let’s not keep Sentinel Hunting waiting. …So weird that I’m getting used to interacting with the Sentinels. They’re not around much but I’ve seen enough of them that the mystique is gone.” Ranthia mused to herself.

  “Then tell me what you seek.” Her guide replied.

  “The Void aspected class that best furthers our goals.” Ranthia answered decisively.

  “As a dancer or as a stealthy killer?” Her guide prompted.

  Ranthia hesitated. Logically, the stealth options were the most effective. The safest. They were the original plan, after all.

  But her heart was set, it seemed.

  “Dancer.” Ranthia announced without a hint of uncertainty.

  Her guide saluted in the Remus style with her fist over her heart, which annoyed Ranthia a bit. She watched the woman while she wandered the neat but chaotic rows of short swords. The blades were never stored exactly in the same way between each visit. This time the blades mostly hung from some sort of ceiling mount, hilts down. Her guide would reach up, lift a sword up, then angle it to free it from the mount so she could examine it, then return it.

  The wait felt longer than usual, but Ranthia suspected a large part of that was the weird guilt that she was wasting a Sentinel’s time. The man was well over twice her level! She could still hardly believe it, but his face only turned hard every time she had tried to ask how she might get comparable level growth. But, at length, her guide returned with two short swords in hand.

  “This sword reflects exactly what you requested.” Her guide announced before she removed her hand from the grip of the blade and set it down. The hilt was wrapped in dark yellow, with a pommel stone—carved in the familiar shape of the symbol of the five gods—made of a lustrous black gemstone that she wasn’t immediately familiar with, but it wasn’t quite as glossy as Dark’s obsidian.

  Ranthia lowered her hand and caressed the blade’s hilt.

  [Blade Dancer – Void]. Feel the rhythm of battle. Embrace the tempo. Become the force of chaos that changes the battle. Dominate it and gracefully flow through. Reduce those that move against you to nothingness. +7 Free Stats, +15 Strength, +25 Dexterity, +20 Vitality, +18 Speed, +5 Mana, +5 Mana Regeneration, +3 Magic Power, +5 Magic Control.

  Ranthia was still staring at it in awe when her guide suddenly set down the other blade.

  “Just so you know what you’re sacrificing. Void element. A fairly direct upgrade to [Sudden End].”

  “Fuck me.” Ranthia hissed.

  “No matter what you have attempted with your images, please leave me out of it. I respectfully decline.” Her guide replied in a completely serious tone.

  Ranthia sputtered for a moment, spat an embarrassed curse at her guide—at herself—and returned her attention to the other blade. It was… very yellow, but that was green wrapping on the hilt! The pommel stone was the same lustrous black mineral.

  [The Final Knife – Void]. Your knives are the last things that your opponents will ever see, assuming you even grant them an opportunity to see the blades that end their lives. Now go forth and end all that would oppose you or deny chaos. +40 Strength, +50 Dexterity, +30 Vitality, +30 Speed, +3 Mana, +3 Mana Regeneration, +3 Magic Power.

  “Fuck everything, those stats are… Why did you have to show me this?!” Ranthia demanded as she yanked her hand away from the blade.

  It didn’t make her heart sing like dancing did! She couldn’t just be a slave to the most efficient path towards survival. She wanted to live. She wanted to dance. She wanted Hexara. She wanted rabbit stew.

  Her stomach growled—not that she experienced true hunger while in the world within—which broke her out of her spiral.

  “Because we both know the class is growing in a different direction, but you needed to be aware of what that means.” Her guide lifted the blade that represented [Blade Dancer] and offered it to Ranthia.

  Ranthia took the blade and… gods, it felt like it was made for her hand. The balance and shape were like a dream. It wasn’t the ideal path towards power, but it was the path that spoke to her. [The Final Knife] was merely a tool, but this… this was passion.

  “Sold. Thank you.” Ranthia smiled at her other self, before the two bowed—properly—to one another in unison.

  After Ranthia returned the short sword that had represented [Sudden End], the new blade was sheathed, across from [Shards of Reflection]. And with that, she made her exit.

  “What did you get?” Hunting asked as soon as the classing up lights vanished from around the girl.

  “What I truly needed.” Ranthia replied, with a large grin on her face.

  [*ding!* Congratulations! You’ve upgraded your second class – [Blade Dancer – Void]!]

  [*ding!* Congratulations! [Blade Dancer] has leveled up from 128 to level 177! +7 Free Stats, +15 Strength, +25 Dexterity, +20 Vitality, +18 Speed, +5 Mana, +5 Mana Regeneration, +3 Magic Power, +5 Magic Control from your class, +1 free stat for being human, +2 Mana from your element.]

  [*ding!* Your skill [Dark Affinity] has evolved into [Void Affinity]!]

  [*ding!* [Void Affinity] has leveled from 128 to level 177!]

  [*ding!* Your skill [Knives & War] has evolved into [The Flow of Battle]!]

  [The Flow of Battle]: Gauge the flow of battle, predict the moves that will come. And then cut through with your blades. Increased prowess per level. -1200 Mana Regen Rate.

  [*ding!* [The Flow of Battle] has leveled from 128 to level 177!]

  [*ding!* Your skill [Blades of Darkness] has evolved into [Void Edge]!]

  [Void Edge]: Apply an almost imperceptibly tiny stretch of void energy across the outermost edge of any knife you wield.

  [*ding!* [Void Edge] has leveled from 128 to level 177!]

  [*ding!* Your skill [Shadowed Steps] has evolved into [Steps into the Void]!]

  [Steps into the Void]: A subtle trace of void energy erases all sound from your footsteps while active. This effect applies to no other sound you might cause, so never allow the sin of clumsiness to mar your graceful movements. Also slightly increases the stability of your footing. Increased stability per level. -888 Mana Regen Rate.

  [*ding!* [Strengthen Blade] has leveled from 128 to level 177!]

  [*ding!* Would you like to evolve [Dodging] into [A Void Dance]?]

  Oh, fuck YES!

  [*ding!* Your skill [Dodging] has evolved into [A Void Dance]!]

  [A Void Dance]: While you read the flow of battle, your motions more readily transition with grace to respond to your predictions of what is to come. In this state it is easier to dodge, parry, or otherwise avoid attacks and obstacles that would otherwise interfere with you. Increased avoidance capability per level. -928 Mana Regen Rate.

  [*ding!* Notice – [A Void Dance] has lost levels from 221 to level 177.]

  Well, that was a lot to unpack! [Critical Strike], [Strengthen Blade], and [Cross Strike] had no evolutionary changes, which at least in [Critical Strike]’s case was a bit disappointing… sometimes she really questioned just how much that skill helped.

  On the bright side, [Dodging] finally got absorbed into her [Warrior] class and [A Void Dance] sounded like an amazing skill for avoi—

  “Augh, what is with the System and terrible names for classes and skills?!” Ranthia screeched when the pun suddenly dawned on her.

  She tried to ignore Hunting’s fit of laughter and focused on her skills again. Anyway, her new dodging skill sounded like it was a direct upgrade in every way. Though she was somewhat nervous since the description seemed to suggest that it had picked up a conditional requirement for her to be focused and in battle. Would it no longer help with ambushes? …Somehow, she doubted that it was quite so restricted, especially with [Combat Awareness] helping her. She didn’t have hard information, but when she thought it through, she strongly suspected that the skill would still help her avoid unexpected blows or other obstacles, even when she wasn’t technically engaged in a ‘battle’.

  [Void Edge] had a major change from [Blades of Darkness]. The old skill covered the entire blade of her weapon, but [Void Edge] only affected the edge of her knives. This meant the skill wouldn’t be able to assist with protecting her knives, and she’d need to land a proper blow to deal damage. …It also meant [Mirrored Moves] just got an unexpected and severe downgrade, if the technique for [Void Edge] was truly almost imperceptible. Still, she was eager to see what [Void Edge] could do!

  [Steps into the Void] also promised to be a significant improvement for her. [Shadowed Steps] had only reduced the volume of her footfalls, but the new skill claimed to wholly erase all sound from her footsteps while it was active? The increased stability for her footing was potentially even more interesting, though she needed to experiment to see just how slight of an effect it was and when it would apply. Of course, the flipside to the skill meant she risked getting sloppier with her foot placement if she could rely on the skill fixing it, something that might spell death when it failed. It was something to bear in mind.

  Ranthia tried to jump up and found herself clumsy. She overshot and ended up face-planting into the sand. What on Pallos…?

  “…Oh Xaoc, my strength over doubled, and my speed nearly doubled. Fuck, this is going to take a while to get used to.” Ranthia grumbled.

  The System compensated for a lot, but major stat shifts still took a bit of effort to get used to. Her body was suddenly much stronger and more responsive. She’d adapt, but she needed a little time.

  “Well, we better begin working on that. Come on! I’ll be sure to let your instructors know you’ll be missing class tomorrow.” Hunting pulled her up to her feet with a grin, before he took off at what she had no doubt he considered to be a light jog.

  Ranthia tried to sprint after him, cursing the entire time.

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  Nozomi Matsuoka.

  Sarah "Neila" Elkins.