Stars Asunder

by Tao Wong

  “So why me? Why not go to the Forbidden Zone yourself?”

  He hesitates before he answers. “I did. Your mentor turned me down.”

  I snort, staring into space. More correctly, at the line that leads to my mentor. There’s a lot packed in there—both duty and obligations, and something personal. In fact, that personal bit wraps itself around the thread that holds them together. It balloons and sizzles in every interaction, tainting every responsibility and duty they might have.

  “Why?”

  “We disagreed. About what she was supposed to do, what I was supposed to do. We disagreed about the King and her duties, and by the time I realized she was right, it was too late.” Regret flashes across Kilgave’s face and I start piecing together their history.

  “You were the Champion for the mad King,” I state.

  “He wasn’t mad. He was just…” Kilgave seems to try to find a word. In the end, he shrugs. “Selfish. In need of control. Narcissistic. But not mad.”

  I snort at him cutting such a fine line. But it’s past history, not one I’m interested in digging up. I fall silent, regarding him. Prodding at the System in my head even as data, at the slightest loosening of my will, floats in. Information about his Skills, his abilities, what he can do, what he lost, and what he gained. A lot of information, but a fallen Champion is something the Questors would be very interested in.

  I come back to myself, the pair still staring at me patiently. I can’t help but shake my head, wondering if they thought I was considering the offer. Or accessing information about them. I wish Harry was here, but even the party chat is blocked right now. Communication seems to be off the tables.

  “You’re a Master Class. With quite a few Levels. How are you going to take mine?”

  “I’ll give this one up. I’ll take the penalty. If you’re willing to give me the opportunity,” Kilgave replies, his voice firm and without any trace of hesitation.

  “Again? You’ve already lost quite a few Levels, changing Classes once.”

  “It is what it is. For the Empire, losing a few Levels is nothing,” Kilgave says fervently.

  I stare into his eyes as he speaks, trying to judge how true he is. Not just because he’s not using a Skill, but how true it is in his soul. And I’m not surprised to see, to believe, that he’s telling the truth. He would give it all up. For an Empire that threw him aside once before.

  “And the Queen?” I turn to Unilo, fixing her with my stare. “What does she think of this?”

  “She doesn’t know,” Unilo replies, her voice dropping as she stares at the retreating cleaning robots now that they’ve done their job. Now that they’ve removed any speck of the liquid or glass she had broken. Leaving us in beautiful, serene, blue cleanliness.

  “And if she did?”

  “She would be less than pleased,” Unilo replies, the words seemingly dragged out of her.

  “Does Ayuri know?”

  “She… guesses.”

  I sit back, idly picking up one of the lemon bars and biting it. This one is more raspberry than lemon, but it’s tart and sweet and something to do with my mouth while I think. Plus points—it’d annoy the Queen. Negative points—it’d annoy the Queen.

  On the other hand, Ayuri knowing what is about to happen means that while it might anger the Queen, it probably is good for the Empire itself. That’s one of the constraints about her Class. Though I’m not entirely certain how constrained she is. Even that giant library in my head doesn’t have specifics—mostly because they haven’t done in-depth research into the Champion’s Class directly.

  Class restrictions are a known issue, but while it was useful for knowledge’s sake, it didn’t seem to help the System Quest. So that branch of research was dropped by the Questors. At least, in general. Others have continued to do research, of course, and it’s from those studies that I know more of Class restrictions. Which, as with most things in the System, can be as loose or as constrained as the System deems it. The trade-offs in power are significant though, which is why many continue to explore the intricacies.

  “Why do you want to be a Paladin?” I say. It’s almost a rhetorical question now, because I think I know. There are only a few kinds of people who become Champions.

  “To serve the Empire. The real Empire,” Kilgave says. When my silent and steady gaze demands more, he sighs. “I failed. The first time. Thinking I served the Empire, but what I served was a man. Now… now I want to make it right.”

  “You know, I put the initiates through a lot of training…”

  “Which I do not need,” Kilgave says, sounding almost affronted. I can’t help but chuckle, seeing the spark of arrogance in his eyes. “I have fought more and harder monsters than those you sent them for. And I learnt my lessons, the lessons you tried to impart, decades ago. At greater cost than I would wish on anyone.”

  “One last question then. Tell me the story.”

  “What story?” Unilo says.

  But Kilgave knows and squeezes that hand on her shoulder. She looks at him and he offers her a pained half-smile.

  “It is not an easy thing, to tell of your failures…” Kilgave begins, before he launches into the tale. It’s one of mistakes, of indecisions. Of lives taken and lost. And in the end, of a man who chose to stand aside when it was necessary. To fail his own Class to save an Empire.

  When that somber tale is over, I ask, “And what? You’ve been chilling at the family estates since then?”

  “I’ve been doing what I can to aid the Empire. Even a fallen Champion is a powerful force,” Kilgave says. “But I’m limited in what I can do internally. By those who believe what I did was wrong. By my former position. By my present Class.” He gestures upward. “I cannot affect the change I need…”

  “Yeah, yeah, I get it.” I wave, shutting him up. I see the flash of anger, the pride that he bites down on while I run pell-mell over his need to monologue. At his peak, he was nearly a Heroic. Then he lost it all and has had to claw his way back. “Don’t care. You want the Quest? Let’s see what the System has to say about it.”

  I feel for the System. It’s kind of like reaching behind your back, except not with your hands but with the tail that you never realized you had. And then punching a bunch of buttons, still sight unseen, with that same tail to make it dance to your commands.

  It’s weird.

  And, sadly, with the way the System has increased my Intelligence, with the way the library has downloaded so much information, all too doable. I find the portion of my Class that lets me designate new Paladin initiates, that allows me to offer them the Quest.

  It balks at first, because he’s a Master Class. And when I press, overriding the initial resistance, I feel the mental fuzz it throws at my will, the shock of its cold jaws clamping down on my desire. It strains and bucks at my commands, refusing to let me do it.

  That’s the worst thing the System could have done. Because suddenly, I want it.

  Not because of Kilgave and his idiotic need to serve an Empire that doesn’t give a damn about him. That might even hate him. I want it because the System doesn’t.

  I grunt out loud and ignore the pair before me as my head throbs, as my vision goes red. Will against System, I bring all the tools I have to play with—Mana Sense, affinity, knowledge from the library, and will—to bear.

  It buckles and finally gives in. Because while it might not want to, the Quest is still a possibility. Like stabbing a fork into a clogged up, dirty electric outlet to free it up till you could slot your computer in. It’s not smart and you might get shocked a little, but it’ll work.

  Eventually, I stare at the Quest notification.

  System Master Class Quest: Paladin of Erethra

  Your Paladin of Erethra mentor (John Lee) has designated the following requirements for your Master Class Quest:

  - Reset and lose Master Class Levels (XP will be refunded and banked at a reduced rate)

  - Defeat 11 Master Class Monsters (Level 1
50 or more) in the designated locale (~Error!~) without aid beyond your bonded team.

  Huh. I blink, prodding at the Quest with my mind and will. But that last error keeps throwing itself up, firmly deciding not to resolve itself. I get a feeling it won’t, not till it’s given.

  “Redeemer?” Unilo calls.

  “So… this might be interesting.” A push of will and I make the blue notification screen show up.

  Unilo’s face scrunches up and she leans forward, trying to assess what the hell it says.

  Kilgave’s reaction is much more dramatic. His knees give way and he flops down onto the chaise, missing it by inches and being saved from an ungainly spill by the chaise itself moving to catch him. His jaw is working while the couch moves itself and its occupant back into place.

  “Can’t have the furniture at the wrong angles,” Ali says, sounding amused.

  “You know, being shocked over a simple Quest doesn’t engender a lot of faith in your ability to complete it,” I say, drawling.

  “That… you… the location. Why…?”

  “The Error? Not my fault.” I lean forward, pouring myself more of the fruity drink, then glug it down, trying to wash away the slight headache conjuring that damn Quest notification had produced.

  “What error?” Kilgave says, sounding confused. “I’m talking of sending me to Bohmer.”

  The name sends a shiver through me. I know that name, though I rarely use it. Because that name brings too many bad memories. Too many horrors from the four years I spent there. And so, instead of facing the fear, I wall it away, pushing it down and focusing on something else. Something a little more incongruous.

  “Why there?” Unilo mouths my question.

  “I…” I shake my head. The System… sometimes. I wonder about it. Some of its decisions, some of the things that happen, it makes no sense—unless it’s alive. As circles get completed, as narrative and karmic ends… fit. For Bohmer is more than just another Forbidden Planet and the center of my own slew of nightmares.

  It’s also the ex-capital of Erethra. And where their ex-King fell.

  Where Kilgave chose to stand aside.

  And where Suhargur refuses to leave, fighting her never-ending battle to save those citizens who refused to go. Or, in many cases, have nowhere left to go, on pain of death.

  So many circles completing. And staring at the Quest, I laugh softly. And do as the System wants. Because I can think of nothing more fitting. I offer him the Quest and all that it entails. The danger, the despair, and the return to his failure.

  And maybe his salvation.

  While Kilgave stares at the Quest notification, his brash certainty gone, I stand. My motion does nothing to distract the pair, so I walk out, leaving Unilo and the ex-Champion to their considerations.

  Though not before snagging the plate of snacks.

  Chapter 22

  They came for me when I was Leveling. Gaining access to the city dungeons was simple enough, just a matter of showing up. I’d gone alone, leaving my friends behind. Not wanting to be burdened by their XP debuff, not wanting to be slowed down by Harry. And, most importantly, because they’d found better things to do.

  Like indulging himself in the city for Bolo, and fighting in the arena for Mikito. Dornalor left almost immediately after his mission, to run another trip. From what the trio said, the “routine” mission had turned out to be just that—a pure pick up and deliver event. When asked, Dornalor had pointed out that most missions didn’t involve violence.

  Harry was enjoying himself on the planet, bouncing from city to city. Restricted as he was in the palace, he’d found a niche doing touring documentaries all through the planet. It wasn’t his preference, but he was still waiting on additional approval to get to the frontlines.

  Which left me to myself. Alone and vulnerable.

  The dungeon itself was nothing special, other than the fact that it wasn’t a fantasy rip-off. Instead, we had robots in all kinds of configurations that you could think of—swarming across walls like spiders, flying through the air as hordes of mini drones, even a few humanoid terminators.

  Most interesting of all were the bipedal robots wielding gun arms, firing upon me as they twisted all around their torso. They were mini-bosses, roaming sentinels. They popped up every time I was between zone transition in levels, before I hit next level boss.

  The city dungeon itself is twelve levels deep, and I’m down in level nine when they come.

  I’d started at the top, working my way down in quick order before slowing down at the last couple of levels. Partly to keep my Mana levels high, partly because things are beginning to get interesting.

  I skip along the pale gray walls, armored feet tearing into the metal as I run along it, mass impacts ringing throughout the rectangular room we’re fighting in. For the creativity shown in building out the robots, in developing the variety of androids, the actual environment is a letdown. Other than the occasional blockade of metal, most of the rooms and corridors are smooth surfaces, leaving open lines of sight and few places to hide. Good thing I’d recently been fighting in a space station with almost the exact same problem.

  An exertion of will and the spell finishes, the formula for the Mana escaping my mind as I release it, creating a small hill on the floor. Not a large hill, but more than adequate to throw off the aim of the sentinels as they fire. The small hill grows, metal warping and bulging, and the sentinels stagger, trying to right their balance.

  I’m grinning, ready to destroy the staggering sentinels, when a pair of two-foot-long blades fly through the air. These attackers are new, and definitely not a dungeon feature as they make their presence known.

  The first two blades sink into my back, punching right through my active Soul Shield and Hod’s Armor before digging into muscle and bone. I fall off the wall, the weapons embedded in my back as I tumble to the ground. Notifications flash, too fast to keep track of all, but I get glimpses.

  Successful Dual Backstab!

  +1787 Damage Inflicted

  You have been Poisoned! (54% Resisted)

  +214 Damage per second

  Additional Effects: You are Disoriented!

  Duration: 6.3 seconds

  The blades fly out seconds later as my emergency Shield Ring kicks in, throwing the weapons away from me. Hod’s secondary defensive shields turn on as well with a quick exertion of will. I roll on the ground, coming to my feet, but the others are already attacking.

  Mana, that I hadn’t noticed building up, is unleashed. No fancy elements here, no special projection, just raw, harnessed Mana slamming into the shields. I tumble through white light, trying to balance out the damage the moment it pierces my shielding. It doesn’t do much, especially when I bounce off the floor.

  Instinctively, I reach for the Mana with my Elemental Affinity, hoping to see it off a little. And, of course, fail. Mana has no electromagnetic force, no physical aspect for my ability to grasp. Whatever it is, it’s not one of the fundamental physical aspects of the universe.

  A second after the raw Mana flames die off, as I regain my sense of balance, I’m slammed into by another figure. The Ram’s Rush throws me into the wall again, bouncing me off it, the ceiling, then the floor. My armor is smoking, damage notifications flaring everywhere and reminding me that I’m in a dire situation. Surprise assassinations are a nasty, nasty business.

  As I roll onto my knees, I spot the rushing, eleven-foot, stone-like creature—one of the Risen—on his way to finish the job. I feel Mana rising as the Mage continues his casting, readying another powerful spell. All of this in microseconds…

  More than enough information gathered. That’s when I act.

  “Standard formation,” I send to Ali.

  Abyssal Chains, rising from the ground, wrap around the tank and the mage, restricting their motions. I wish I could get the rogue, but he’s gone, a ghost in the System.

  That’s fine, because I keep moving, throwing my daggers at the tank, layering
another Soul Shield onto my defense. Hod’s force shield flickers back on after a second, regeneration kicking in as the Mana Engine goes to work. If the rogue wants to backstab, he’ll have to get into position, and I’m not looking to make it easy.

  Even so, uncertain if there might be more waiting, I keep angling around the tank as he breaks free. A second team perhaps, waiting for me to waste my Mana on these guys. So rather than do that, I use my knives, the inbuilt beam weaponry on Hod’s Armor, and my blades to trim down the Risen.

  Risen Tank (Erethran Vanguard Level 47) (A)

  HP: 2138/4840

  MP: 983/1780

  Conditions: Structural Integrity, Wrath of the Masses, The Sacrifice of One, Earthen Density, Lightfoot, Greater Health Regeneration, Greater Mana Regeneration

  A quick stutter in his health, when it drops after an attack and starts rising, makes me grit my teeth. The poison coursing through my blood is painful, fogging my thoughts, eating at my nerves and slowing down my reactions. That’s why it took me so long to realize it.

  An exertion of will, and threads appear. I dismiss the minor ones, then I dismiss those that lead to family, to those he loves. His crazed obsession with the Champion and another Legendary Artiste. Within seconds, the details of their team are all too apparent. I feel someone slide into my mind, share my senses for a second, then Ali pops out.

  “Three o’clock, three feet behind that crushed mass.”

  I can only grunt my reply as I block the swings of the Risen. He sends me skittering seven feet in the wrong direction. I wince, my hands throbbing, my blades all scattered by the sheer force of his attack. The Risen winds up again, getting ready to throw another gauntleted punch with a Power Punch combined.

  But I’m already murmuring, both hands up, my sword dropped to the ground. Power floods into my hands as the spell ignites. I can’t help but grin as I mutter, “Fastball special, coming right up.”