Apocalypse Arena Chapters 1 - 11 (Patreon)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is a new project which I will launch on RR on April 1st. Its a Modern Fantasy LitRPG that focuses on multiversal combat tournaments, portalling to distant dimensions for quests, and all the economic/sociopolitical issues that comes with magic and people with fantastical abilities living alongside regular people.

Chapter 1: Fatal Shortcuts

Learn to differentiate between what’s real and what’s not. Trust the first. Not the latter.

Doctor Mendez’s words echoed in Nil’s ears. Usually, he used the mantra to ignore the visage haunting him. Whenever the woman in the bloody white parka and ripped jeans waved, gestured, or mimed something at Nil, he ignored her. Then another fireball exploded in the street behind him, and lightning flashed out of the windows in the building ahead. So, when she pointed at an alleyway to his left, Nil took the suggestion and ran.

Backtracking occurred to him as the wall stretching to his right trembled and dust rained on him. A hundred-meter sprint would take him back to Picadilly Circus. Mana-tech screens advertising Arthurtech’s latest defense wards or the next Apocalypse Arena event bathed the famous junction in permanent ethereal illumination. Given Soho’s chaos and its desirability as a target for terrorist attacks, security forces always patrolled it. If he retreated to its safety, he would survive the night unscathed.

Unfortunately, the sounds of Schema-enhanced muscles shattering concrete and arcane spells sounded behind Nil. Retreating would probably put him in the warring gangs’ crossfire.

A fireball roared across the junction ahead, and Nil skidded to a halt. He threw himself against the neighboring building’s entrance and ducked for cover. The door behind him creaked open.

“Ladki chahiye?” A man wearing an old corduroy coat asked. He leaned against the frame, picking at his teeth with a long and ugly pinky nail.

“I don’t speak Hindi, mate,” Nil lied, eyes darting from side to side as he looked for the best escape route.

“Why you lie, friend? Tell me what you want. I got everything. Local. Foreign. Summoned. I see you every day. I give you discount. Yes?”

“Can’t you see I’m trying not to die?” Nil asked.

The pimp laughed. “Arre, bhai. Who’ll pay the bills if I stop doing business because of those bloody bastards? This is everyday thing, no? If you don’t want girl, I’ll give you shelter for sixty pound.”

“No, thank you.”

A loud buzz and flash made the pair jump. The sound repeated, and a bright light pulse accompanied it. A heartbeat later, the stink of ozone assaulted his nostrils, and a car alarm went off. The pimp slammed the door closed.

It was lightning magic. Nil had seen it up close once before and didn’t want to again. So, despite Dr Mendez’s advice and against his best judgment, he followed the hallucinated woman’s directions and took off running once again. He kept his head low, hoping to survive the five hundred meters of dimly lit road unscathed. Oxford Street always had police or Corpo squads patrols. They ensured Soho’s chaos never leaked beyond its borders.

Walking down the much-better-lit and policed Regent Street would’ve taken Nil home to his shoebox apartment without risking a shank or fireball to the face. However, the route would add at least forty minutes to his journey. The actual walk wasn’t much longer, but he’d have to deal with checkpoints and suffer interrogations regarding his bag’s contents. Nil had less than nine hours until his next shift, and every second spent not in bed was a second lost. He still needed to do the laundry and at least hang up his chef whites to ensure he had work clothes for the day after the next.

There weren’t many avenues for the non-Summoned to achieve greatness. They needed to be born rich, have charisma coming out of the wazoo, or have genius-level intellect. Unfortunately, Nil had none of the above. He did well in school and college but failed to get a loan for the oh-so-necessary post-graduate degree. The cheffing bug bit him while part-timing, and he had finally clawed his way into a Michelin-level kitchen. Nil enjoyed the work, but the hours were grueling, and his time off involved polishing techniques to stay relevant. Worst of all, the only quick commute was life-threatening.

As Nil left the dangers of Soho and fled onto Oxford Street, he wondered whether a master's in mechanical engineering would’ve done him any good. Given the popularity of manatech, it was probably Summoned with artisanal abilities and qualifications in artificing or some other otherworldly trade leading the show.

“Oi! Stop right there!” A gruff voice yelled just as Nil slowed to a jog. A high-pitched whine followed, and Nil recognized it as an Arthurtech stun gun charging up. During his late-night power walks through Soho, Nil had heard the standard-issue Metropolitan Police weapon several times. He complied and pre-emptively followed the expected order. “Hands where I can see them!”

A pair of inhumanely strong hands grabbed Sam’s wrists and twisted his arms behind his back. “You carrying any weapons?”

“I’m a chef,” Nil quickly replied. He nodded at the zippered case slung across his shoulders. “That’s my knife bag.”

A familiar policewoman stepped in front of Nil and removed his knife bag. He had seen her patrolling Regent Street several times before. They had never spoken. Nil always acknowledged the police, nodding or smiling so they’d keep him in mind and not suspect him of the neighborhood’s crimes or violence. He hoped the invested effort would pay dividends now. She didn’t manhandle him like her partner. After retreating a couple of meters, she peeked inside the case. She nodded before speaking into her radio. Nil heard the phrases ‘possible suspect’ and ‘matching description’ over the pounding in his ears.

“Where are you coming from?” asked the policeman, still holding his arms.

“Work,” Nil replied. “I’m a sous chef at Misdirection.”

“That the place with the mage chef?” The question came from the officer holding his knife bag.

“He’s just a rogue.” Nil felt the hands holding his wrists loosen as he spoke.

“You mean to tell me all the shit he puts online is just a damned Sleight of Hand power?”

“He’s got a tinker-style artisan on staff, too. The chef should still be in the office. Would you like the number? My name is Sunil Roy. He can—”

“How about you tell us why you were running?” The policeman asked, guiding Nil by the elbows.

“Lightning bolts and fireballs,” Nil answered. “It's terrifying back there, officer. The bastards are going to bring all of King’s Square down. I didn’t want to get involved or caught in their fight. So, I ran.”

“Clever.”

“Take it easy, Jones,” the female police officer said. “I’ve seen this one around. He should be clear.”

“Just run his bios, will you?” Her partner grunted.

Nil found himself in front of a police van. It was the Arthurtech kind with an electrified cage in the back. “Is this necessary?” Sam’s heartbeat calmed somewhat. Anxiety still bubbled in his stomach, but at least he didn’t need to worry about a stun gun to the side. The weapons had settings to deal with defensive Summoneds with brute or knight classification powers. He feared a misfire or incorrect setting could cause permanent damage if not kill him. “Please. Just call my boss. My ID is in my wallet. You can look me up—”

“Do yourself a favor and shut up, alright?” The policeman liberated Sam's wallet. The previous interactions and the female officer’s confidence did not affect his handling or treatment. “I’m just going to secure you in here while we make a few calls.”

Nil sighed. He would need to slog through the coming fifteen-hour shift sore and sleep-deprived. Nil knew well that what he was experiencing wasn’t proper police procedure. Protesting or resisting would only earn him more discomfort and trouble, so he kept his thoughts to himself. The policeman commenced cuffing Nil while interfacing with the police vehicle.

The visage shook her head and hands. Her wide eyes betrayed her concern. After the evening’s guidance thus far, Nil wanted to trust her. Instincts demanded he run, but all he could do was prepare himself for whatever was to come.

The van demanded two forms of biometric scans before unlocking. The officer barely gripped the handle before a concussive force blew the door open. Fortunately, the shockwave only grazed Nil, throwing him off balance. He staggered to the side and almost tripped over the curb. The past seven years of regular self-defense classes had made footwork almost reflex. His apparently imagined apparition had also left him wary. The officer didn’t have such luck. The van’s rear door swung into him hard enough to knock him off his feet. The blow flung him into a neighboring lamppost, denting it.

A topless man leaped from the vehicle. His bloodshot eyes shot between the stunned police officer and his shocked partner. She had a hand on her holster but hadn’t drawn her weapon yet. The criminal leaped at Nil, moving too fast for an ordinary human. He felt a much too-powerful forearm and handcuff chain on his neck a moment later.

“Keep your hands off that bloody gun!” The criminal screeched. His pitch and the slurred words suggested off-market stimulants in his system. He vibrated every handful of seconds. It felt like someone had chained Nil to an off-balance washing machine. “I’ll break the kid’s neck. I don’t even have to try. He’s a twig.”

“Alright! Alright.” The policewoman held her hands out in front of her. “Nobody else needs to get hurt tonight. Okay? Just let him go, and we can talk.”

“Nah.” The man laughed. “Give me your keys. We’re going for a ride.”

“This isn’t necessary, is it?” Nil asked. He tried to sound calm, but his voice quivered. His heart wanted to pound out of his chest, and he felt his bowels begging to release, too. “We’re in the same boat. Aren’t we? Just—”

Nil shut up as soon as the hold around his throat tightened. “Why the fuck are you talking?”

The policewoman foolishly attempted to take advantage of the momentary distraction. The criminal roared as soon as she unholstered her weapon. He threw Nil aside like a rag doll and pounced at her. “Fuck it. I’ll just kill all of ya!”

Nil landed on the still-dazed police officer. As luck would have it, the handcuffs hadn’t closed completely around his right wrist. His hands were still free. Nil found himself with two options. He could flee or help. His eyes drifted between the policewoman now pinned under the screaming criminal and her partner’s weaponry. Drawing the stun gun was out of the question. He had read they scanned every officer’s unique arcane signature before activating. It would do him no good. On the other hand, the electric baton didn’t have such limitations.

Every instinct told Nil to run, but the officer’s bloody face concerned him. Her attacker was obviously strung out. The thrashing wouldn’t stop until she died or he passed out. He would probably take her keys and flee afterward. Given his enraged, drugged-out state, there was also a chance he would chase Nil afterward. The criminal had the physiology of a Summoned. His Might had likely ascended from the Mortal to the Iron Realm. The criminal’s Finesse probably wasn’t far behind. Nil would, without a doubt, lose a foot chase.

“Stupid idiot.” He cursed himself while wiggling the baton free of the officer’s belt. Blood leaked from the man’s forehead and red stained his white collar. As Nil hesitated again, he glanced at the visage. The supposedly imaginary woman in the bloody white park and blue jeans shook her head and hands violently. Her deep blue eyes pleaded he avoid the decision.

No. Not again.

A swing sufficiently extended the baton, and its tip hummed to life, emitting a silver glow. Nil raced at the criminal, stifling a war cry. The policewoman’s resistance had less life to it. Gashes covered her arms, and her head had a few abrasions from where it had bounced off the pavement. On the bright side, the frequency and intensity of the man’s vibrations had dropped significantly. Nil heard sirens in the distance, but he doubted she would last long enough to benefit from the support.

Nil had no weapons training. However, he knew to poke with the pointy end. He emulated a fencing move from ‘Princess Bride,’ driving the baton’s tip into the man’s exposed spine. “You bastard!” He screamed, spasming. The thug fell on his side, scrambling away from Nil and the policewoman. His hands frantically clawed at the touch point.

Even though his instincts told Nil to retreat, he pushed forward, jabbing with his borrowed weapon again. This time, he hit the soft flesh around the navel, forcing another bout of spasms. Unfortunately, instead of retreating, the man lunged forward. After seven years of spending every day off in self-defense classes and daily gym visits, Nil had little trouble avoiding the wild attack and used the following opening for another strike. It gave him hope regarding his chances. He didn’t need to win. Just delay until help came.

The following swings missed, too, as Nil bobbed and weaved. His training involved punches, kicks, knee and elbow strikes. However, physical strikes from an ordinary human had little chance of doing much to someone with Might already in the Iron Realm. In fact, Nil was sure he’d already be dead if not for the intoxicants in his opponent’s system. The exchange thus far gave him hope in regard to his success.

Nil never thought he’d end up in a situation that involved facing off a violent Summoned again. He went to classes to feel secure and confident and deal with survivor’s guilt. Now, as he used the regularly drilled footwork to parry a wide hook and poke his opponent again, he saw the fruits of his labor and felt good about himself for the first time in a very long time. Then, he got overconfident and went for a follow-up attack instead of returning to defensive and avoidance tactics.

The Summoned criminal vibrated and blurred forward, abruptly gaining a burst of speed. He punched Nil’s torso, forcing all the air out of his lungs and causing several stomach-churning cracks.

The next thing Nil knew, he was flying through the air. He struck the police van head-first, and everything went dark for a moment. When his eyes refocused, Nil felt an instant physiological change. Nothing hurt. He wasn’t on his face or back but upright. Words in a thick, blocky font drifted in front of him.

The Schema recognizes your bravery and grit. When given the choice of fight or flight, you picked fight! A highly valued Summoned escaped probable death because of you. Sunil Roy, you have the necessary traits to serve as one of the Summoned. You may pursue a future of adventure, growth, and power or return to your old life of mediocrity.

Would you like to shed your injuries and sicknesses and ascend?

Nil’s stomach fluttered. He wasn’t on Earth any longer. The danger had passed—for the time being, at least. If he accepted the offer, it wasn’t just power that awaited him, but also otherworldly threats and more near-death experiences.

Chapter 2: Unfortunate Attributes

“What happens if I reject the Schema’s offer?” Nil asked. If he were closer to twenty than he was to thirty, he would’ve accepted the gift without question. Now, Nil had a career he had built over five years of grueling effort and sacrifice. Ascending to the status of Summoned would cost him his job.

The newly Summoned received frequent tasks and quests, taking them away from Earth several times a year—once every six to eight weeks for most early in the service of the Nexus. The duration of the summonings varied, and some didn’t make it home. The government had spent the last decade and a half debating bills on Summoned rights and employment protections and trialed several programs. Unfortunately, nothing had yet become permanent. Employers, more often than not, terminated Summoned workers, and Nil was sure the same would happen to him.

There were dozens of cooks clawing for Nil’s position, and he hadn’t held it long enough to win the chef’s favor. If he no-called-no-showed the following morning, his boss would call someone to fill in and reprimand him when he returned. If he were away for any longer, the chef would start looking for a replacement. Either way, he’d be out of a job by the end of the month, and the restaurant would have a full-time cold-kitchen sous chef replacement.

You’ll be returned to the moment following your moment of bravery in the same condition as before your summoning.

“So, broken ribs and a concussion at best. Dying at the worst.” If the Metropolitan police recognized his efforts to save one of their own, they could reward him with a Summoned healer’s touch. It was rare, but the city was known to do so, especially to avoid liability cases when they were at fault. The officers hadn’t followed procedure, and Nil believed he was owed.

We sense your hesitation. Your potential has been deemed above average. The Nexus moderators are surprised you weren’t contacted before. A destiny more extraordinary than that of an ordinary Summoned might lay ahead of you.

The Schema picks individuals with grit and mettle, individuals with talent, or those who exhibit bravery in the face of grave danger. You ticked multiple boxes.

If you accept, you will be assigned a priority caseworker, and a signing bonus might also be on the table. The latter is subject to the results of your attribute assessments.

Greed reared his ugly head. Nil doubted he’d ever make it to the status of Michelin-ranked chef. Nil was good, but he knew for a fact that he wasn’t that good. He had the necessary skills but not the mad genius or gimmicks essential for the media attention and sociopolitical favor such accolades demanded. Living as a Summoned had its dangers, but he could not think of any other way to make his family proud. It could potentially earn him enough to pay off his student loans and help his father with his debts. Rising costs forced him to continue working grueling hours despite being of retirement age. The man had two minors to support and rejected Nil's help. He had no choice but to send aid through his sister. She had a part-time job and pretended it was enough to pay for groceries and a couple of bills.

“I accept.”

A wave of warmth washed over Nil, and the surrounding white gained luminosity until it was nearly blinding. When it finally faded, he found himself on an old gym floor with nothing but a mannequin and a sled with nothing on it. The visage walked around them, studying both closely but not touching them.

“Hit me, you wide-eyed, dozy-looking bastard,” the wooden humanoid statue said.

“What?” Nil asked, eyebrows raised.

“Did I stutter? This is the Might assessment. Hit me and move on. I got better things to do than stare at your stupid mug.”

“You’re a blood mannequin. What—”

“Just get over with it, will you? Hit me. Push the sled. Move on.”

“Fine.” Nil sighed.

“You get three strikes. Use everything you got.”

Nil obeyed. His first right hook did nothing to the mannequin but left his knuckles stinging. The second came with the same discomfort, but he successfully got the head to turn a couple of degrees. Nil’s last blow involved a spinning roundhouse kick and sent jolts of pain from the impact point—his lower shin—up to the knee. The pain disappeared almost as quickly as his injuries when the Nexus summoned him.

“Now, grip the sled tight and push it for as long as you can,” the mannequin said, sounding amused. Nil was tempted to ask what the featureless, mouthless, wooden man found so funny, but it felt pointless.

The sled moved with ease at first. He didn’t see the point of the test. Then, a couple of steps later, it appeared to get heavier, and the handle rolled. Nil gripped tighter and continued pushing. Every subsequent inch got harder. The sled’s weight increased, and holding on to it proved more challenging. Much to his embarrassment, he made it only eleven steps before it wouldn’t budge.

“Might assessment complete! Next!”

The lights went out, and the environment changed when they lit up again. He now stood in an auditorium. Several benches and stations stood around him. He saw no humanoid figures in his vicinity besides the familiar woman. She waved him toward a collection of workstations. Nil found a large section that resembled Misdirection’s kitchen and automatically gravitated toward it.

A blue screen materialized when he stopped in front of a butchery station with a whole, skinned, and gutted deer carcass.

Finesse Assessment.
The Schema has already observed how well you move during the previous trial and during your summoning event. Please demonstrate how good you are with your hands.

Butchering and taking apart the young doe felt like the most natural thing to do. Fine dining and especially Michelin-starred kitchens often used game animals and liked to have the staff take apart protein and dry age it in-house. Nil had grown familiar with such tasks early in his career. He took his pick from the selection of knives and got to work straight away. A comfortable rhythm took over; before he knew it, the limbs and torsos sat separated before him. He was in the middle of separating the saddle from the shoulders when darkness took over again.

When the lights returned, Nil stood in a grand temple-like structure made of marble and crystals. Ethereal lights floated overhead. Individuals in robes, armor, and general medieval armor surrounded him.

Arrows blinked in front of Nil, directing him to the opposite side of the dome-ceilinged room. When he hesitated, a luminous line appeared on the floor, too. The people walking around him frequently glanced at blank spaces on the floor, walls, or empty air. The Schema probably had similar indicators for them. A handful of individuals materialized after him. Instead of walking toward the offices, they headed toward an auditorium full of people to the right.

“This way, Sunil Roy,” a pink-skinned woman in luminous pink attire said when Nil reached his destination, waving him through a doorway. Once he passed, she closed the door and pointed him toward a desk.

“Thank you.” When Nil glanced over his shoulder, the pink woman had disappeared. Instead, an identical individual with normal human coloration sat behind the desk. Her clothes were neither luminous nor had a pink hue.

“Please sit down, Sunil Roy. I’m Layla, your personal case worker. I’ll talk you through induction, attributes, discipline, and skill options. We can discuss your possible bonus as well. Does that sound okay to you, Sunil—”

“I prefer Nil.”

The woman raised an eyebrow. Her eyes flashed a salmon shade as she scrutinized him. “Very well. Sit down, Nil.” She continued after he complied. “The Schema doesn’t frequently offer bonuses.” Even though she was looking at him, her eyes appeared focused on something closer. Perhaps the Schema interface. “Looks like you got hurt saving someone we favor—an inductee with a promising powerset and great potential. People don’t regularly hesitate or second guess the Schema’s offer either.”

“I thought twenty-nine was a bit late to start a life as a Summoned,” Nil replied. “I spent the past eight years building a career. Working for the Nexus marks the end of that life.”

“Yes. You’re a cook.” She paused, frowning. Her eyes darted across a screen that appeared before her. “Apologies. You’re a culinary artist serving royalty and the rich and powerful. Your work schedule and dedication suggest you have grit and mettle. The Schema values such qualities just as much as talent. It's true that people younger than you are called on more frequently, but there is no limit on when one can display such qualities.”

“So? What’s next?”

“We test your final attributes. Then, we’ll discuss your available disciplines and the best distribution of your extra Schema tokens.” Layla glanced at the wall to her left. A luminous pink hand manifested by the attached shelf. It grabbed a clear crystal disk as big as Sam’s face and carried it to the desk. “Touch it.”

“I don’t get elaborate tests for the other two?” Nil asked, studying the device before him.

“Mind and Spark are harder to measure than the physical attributes. Estimating your potential for either is even harder. We usually test them in the auditorium near the Nexus Market entrance so other Summoned can see if you’re worthy of their attention, guilds, and a lot more that many find grating.” Layla smiled, waving at herself. “However, a Schema-assigned priority case worker comes with privacy, in-depth guidance, and a better transition to Summoned Life.” She redirected his attention to the disk. “This will provide us with a reasonable measurement of your remaining attributes. Please touch the disk.”

Nil did as instructed. He felt a soft tingle before a Schema interface manifested, floating above the desk.

Might— Mortal 4 | Potential: Bronze
Finesse— Mortal 5 | Potential Silver
Mind— Moral 3 | Potential: Iron
Spark— Mortal 9 | Potential Platinum

“That’s an unfortunate spread and assortment of potentials.” Layla sighed. “At least you have an unnaturally high Spark. I suppose we can work with that.”

“What does that mean?” Nil enquired, scrutinizing the screen with narrow eyes. He had read and heard some of the jargon before, but outside of super sports and especially the Apocalypse Arena—he didn’t have the time to watch their broadcasts—the Summoned didn’t discuss their attributes, how they worked, or potential. In fact, many hoarded information regarding the Schema, a closely guarded secret, and the government did little to educate the public on the details. He had read up on them when he still had hopes of ascending, but the accuracy of the data always felt questionable. “Why the hell is my Mind attribute low? Am I supposed to be stupid?”

“Mind doesn’t have anything to do with intelligence. I can understand why your people often make the connection. It's an unfortunate translation issue. You appear to lack a word or concept that combines memory and the ability to handle mental strain. Do you know much about the rest of the attributes?”

“I know that Might covers strength, durability, and natural recovery,” Nil answered. “Meanwhile, Finesse is a measurement of my motor skills and perception. I used to think Mind involved analytical power. Mages use it as their primary attribute. Right?”

“Correct. We don’t use such strict classifications here, but arcane powers demand memorization, image-holding, and psychic control, which can strain the brain. So, mages—as you humans like to say—need a high Mind and a decent score in the final non-physical attribute.”

“Spark. The arcane attribute.”

“Spark affects the potency of your personal power. It might not be overtly important for, say, a Sleight of Hand, Cat’s Grace, or similar passive ability. They can benefit by just investing in the relevant attribute. However, Spark can greatly benefit individuals with active abilities and magic.”

“I thought it affects arcane recovery, too,” Nil said, frowning.

“It can in some cases. For example, if someone’s Schema-gifted ability involves fire magic, Spark would determine the potency of his spells. Typically, they’d recover their arcane resource pool by absorbing the essence of wild or naturally occurring fires from their environment. Spark would affect the efficiency and speed of this recovery.

“Someone of your people’s knight classification with a shield power would also benefit from Spark. The attribute would determine his defense’s potency and how often he can conjure said shield. However, if his ability passively boosts his durability, relying on Might and simply nurturing said gift would do him better than spending Schema tokens and artificial boosters on Spark.”

“Alright. I understand. So, what does this mean for me? Why is my spread unfortunate, as you said? High Spark should help me become a mage. Correct?”

Layla sighed. “If only it were that easy.”

Chapter 3: Caseworkers And Curses

Layla brought up a chart.

“I must reiterate. The Schema and Nexus don’t use terms like mage, knight, brute, or rogue. These are classifications created by your people and media for the sake of Apocalypse Arena groupings and sensalization. We only drew this up so your kind will better understand the abilities available to them. Your attribute spread, and in-born potentials determine them.”

It did a decent job of summarizing how things worked, relating Earth's classification of powers to the rarely discussed attributes.

[TABLE can be found here: https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/71030/department-of-dungeon-studies-arcane-academy-litrpg/chapter/1539903/apocalypse-arena-teaser]

The list went on. Much to Nil’s disappointment, he saw no discipline or classification that had Spark as a primary attribute and Finesse as the secondary.

“What abilities you’re offered is in the Schema’s hands. Unfortunately, all your attributes besides Spark are low to middling. I almost understand why you weren’t summoned before. Platinum potential is certainly impressive, but you don’t have anything to supplement it.”

“The Schema says I have Silver Realm potential in Finesse. Is that no good?”

Layla’s eyes betrayed a hint of pity. “It's very ordinary, to be honest. Spark is a great attribute since it deems your ability's potency, but you need more to accompany it.”

“Well, that sucks balls.” Nil sighed.

“All hope is not lost. The Schema is never wrong. If it says you have incredible potential, there must be something about you we haven’t discussed or noticed yet. A high natural Spark and potential isn’t enough for summoning.”

Layla’s eyes turned pink. Several devices floated off her shelves and took up orbit around Nil. Some flashed lights at him. One drew his blood. Another zapped him with a light electric shock, almost making him jump out of his chair. Another cast a line of light across his body that slowly traveled from his feet upwards. It froze halfway across his forearms.

“Why do you have an unformed soul weapon?” Layla asked, jumping up from her chair. “And why in Yggdrasil’s name is it brimming with cursed energy?”

“Soul weapon?” Nil’s eyes widened at the mention of the phrase. He had only heard them in reference to Apocalypse Arena. They involved magical devices and weapons the combatants flashed during their bouts. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“My scanner says you have had an unformed soul weapon for just over seven years.” Layla straightened her dress and returned to her seat. “The Schema assures me there are no Cursed Ones on your earth yet. I apologize for the reaction.”

“You’re throwing jargon at me that doesn’t mean anything, Layla.”

“The Nexus and Schema exist to fight the Void’s influence on mortal plains and eliminate the Cursed Ones. They’re beings born of twisted, arcane forces, negative emotion, and corruption. You’ll occasionally come across quests that involve defeating or avoiding these entities. Neither threat exists in your world. It’s why 2007’s cataclysm wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been.”

“I mean, we only lost a billion people. Middle East, Northern Africa, and Central South America are hellscapes full of monsters and inhospitable to humans.” Nil’s words dripped with sarcasm. In hindsight, treating Layla well was in his best interests, but minimizing the global horror from his early teen years felt moronic. “Sure. You can say the cataclysm wasn’t so bad.”

Layla ignored the jibe and carried on with her explanation. “The Schema theorizes an individual smuggled cursed energy into your world, and you somehow absorbed it and contained it in that soul weapon.” She leaned over the table, studying Nil’s eyes and face. Layla waved in the air, and a screen appeared. “Did something happen seven years ago? It seems like both came to you at the same time. Soul weapons can often gain sentience. They develop a mind and personality of their own. The Schema says a part of the cursed energy has merged with this weapon’s mind. It doesn’t seem to be physically harming you, though.”

Haunting Visage.

Nil glanced at the woman exploring Layla’s office. The caseworker appeared not to have noticed her. At least now Nil knew it wasn’t hallucinations or some sort of mental illness. Dr Mendez had spent hours talking to him. Nil had undergone brain scans and spent months on sickening medication that left him numb and robbed him of any and all motivation and creativity. Nothing made the visage go away. Nil felt somewhat relieved to know the woman in the blood-soaked parka and ripped jeans wasn’t just a figment of imagination. He wasn’t schizophrenic or suffering from any similar ailment.

“I’m cursed.” Nil chuckled.

“It's not a laughing matter, Mr Roy,” Layla said.

“I know. It's just a relief to know that this Haunting Visage is a product of cursed energy and a soul weapon. Not just my imagination.” He slowly exhaled and refocused on the matter at hand. Nil thought it best to ignore Layla’s question regarding the event seven-and-a-half years prior. “So, what does this mean for me? Does this weapon even the odds? Does it mean I can get decent abilities and have a good life as a Summoned?”

“Not quite. It explains why the Schema and Nexus haven’t noticed you all of this time. A man of your qualities is certainly desirable. You can’t use your soul weapon unless we repurpose or purge this cursed energy. It's generally not advisable, but I could use your bonus to turn a portion of it into an attribute boost.

“Cursed and negative energy is a semi-regular part of Summoned life. When treated right and contained, it's not the worst of things. You can repurpose it into something helpful, but—”

“You also need to take a negative trait to go with it,” Nil said, completing the thought for her. “There was a time long, long ago when I had the time for video games. I understand the concept. Before taking such a step, can I see what powers I have available to me now?”

“Unfortunately, not. Generation of power seeds is a one-time event for each individual Summoned. Typically, cursed energy, negative traits, and bonuses come afterward. The Schema is offering you a bonus for the service that takes capital and several reagents. We can’t do more than that at this time. I'll be honest with you. The attribute spread doesn't give me much hope. You'll end up with mage or summoner discipline powers with not enough Mind to make the most of them. The same goes for rogue or artisan abilities.” Layla leaned over the table again. Even though none but the visage invisible to her walked the room, she continues in a hushed tone. “I abhor cursed energy and the negative trait system. However, as your case worker and after observing your actions during the pre-summoning event, I want nothing but your survival and success. A curse might also positively affect the pool of your available abilities.”

“Fine.” Nil sighed. “What kind of curses can I take on?”

“You need something that will positively affect your lagging attributes and their potential. Ideally, it needs to be something that can be overcome with your power selection. I can tabulate the best available.”

“Before we continue, how does potential work?”

“It's your growth rate in the attribute. Also Silver potential in Finesse means you'll get maximum returns until the Silver Realm. Afterward, the attribute will give you diminishing returns. Since your Mind’s potential is only Iron Realm, I’d suggest we focus on Might and Finesse.”

“Very well.”

Fear The Iron Maiden: Wearing any form of armor, conjured or manufactured, will induce mind-numbing pain. Ignoring the curse’s warnings will cause spikes to dig outwards from your bones and through your skin slowly.
Bonus: Might ranks increased by two. Potential increased by one stage.

Armsmaster’s Disappointment: Wielding any weapons besides one’s body or fist weapons with the intent of use will haunt you with memories of failure and slowly drain your motor skills.
Bonus: Finesse increased by one. Potential increased by one stage.

Fae-Touched: The fae know your true name and may use it to demand favors from you. Rejection will result in the loss of treasured memories and intense psychic trauma. They have stolen a fragment of your potential but sharpened your Mind in exchange.
Bonus: Mind increased by three. Potential increased by two stages, but Spark potential reduced by one.

“I'll get in trouble if I try to influence your decision, but be advised that tangling with the fae and owing them favors is never a good idea,” Layla said. “Mind is your weakest attribute. Letting it remain that way is not the worst of options. The trait might give you a chance at magedom or summoning, but the cost isn’t worth it.”

“I don't want to start my Summoned career tied to anyone in such a way,” Nil said. “Besides, it feels foolish to negatively affect my best attribute to empower another.”

“Good.” Layla appeared relieved. “People have made worse decisions for the chance of wielding magic. Do either of the other two appeal to you?”

“Armsmaster’s Disappointment feels like an automatic winner. Sure, a weapon would grant reach. I'm just below average height. My punches and kicks only go so far. However, I'd like to think that seven years of training during the prime of my life has made me better at hand-to-hand combat than I could ever get with weapons. Meanwhile, armor feels essential if I want to fight at melee range and stay alive.”

“Not necessarily,” Layla said. “Because of your high Spark, a decent power can compensate for your lacking Might or Finesse, making up for whatever shortcoming you have. Talking about my other cases is typically bad form, but I know a Summoned with the Arcane-Warrior discipline with high Finesse and Spark with a fondness for melee combat. The Schema deemed him appropriate for a close-range barrier power. It gives him enough protection to never get weighed down by armor. The barriers and exploding them gives him sufficient offensive power, too.”

“So, he can invest in his Finesse and Spark and not worry about falling behind in durability or raw offensive power.”

“Precisely. Again. I never gave you this example.” Nil mimed zipping his lips shut and a soft giggle out of Layla. Meanwhile, the visage rolled her eyes from across the room. “The real question is whether you want to lean into your current strength or increase your Might and its potential for a more balanced power and start.”

“What determines speed and agility?”

“They're a combination of Might and Finesse. The first leans towards Might and the latter toward Finesse.”

“I'll focus on my strengths then.”

Might— Mortal 4 | Potential: Bronze
Finesse— Mortal 6 | Potential Gold
Mind— Mortal 3 | Potential: Iron
Spark— Mortal 9 | Potential Platinum

Schema Tokens: 2

Curses:

Haunting Visage— The visage of a dead loved one possesses your soul weapon. They will linger around you, and the seed in your arm may attempt to communicate with you through it. Manifesting the weapon will absorb the visage into it.

Armsmaster’s Disappointment: An ancestor's poor weapon skills have drawn the Armsmaster’s ire. Wielding with intent of use any weapon other than your body or fist weapons will haunt you and slowly drain motor skills.

“I'd suggest investing the Schema Tokens in Might. Starting numbers have almost equal weighting in the available pool of powers as your potential. Six is just above average for your people's starting physical attributes.”

“Can't I use it to ascend Spark to the Iron Realm?” Nil asked.

Layla shook her head. “That would require an Iron Ascension Token. Only quests and trading in the Nexus Market will get you those.”

“And unless my prior knowledge is incorrect, I can't access the market until power and two attributes ascend.”

“Correct. That's a mark of you as an individual ascending to a higher realm of existence.”

“Fine.” Nil sighed, increasing his Might score. “Let's pick a power and start my first quest.”

“Great! This is my favorite bit. Are you excited?”

Nil nodded. “I would’ve been more seven years ago.” Nil smiled, eyes drifting past his caseworker to the visage behind her. “I never expected to become a Summoned after entering my late twenties. You could say I developed a degree of resentment and hatred, too.”

“I won’t advise you on the folly of hate. That’s not my job, and I doubt you’d appreciate it coming from me. So, how about we just see what the Schema births for you.”

Sonic Armament: Grow more sensitive to sonic stimuli, hearing sounds most humans wouldn’t notice. Consume calories to enhance your strikes with sonic pulses, disturbing your opponent’s inner ear and organs. Supercharging sonic armament will significantly increase its destructive power, allowing damage to bones and inorganic material. However, supercharging only lasts five minutes and will disable Sonic Armament's offensive component for an hour afterward.
Primary Finesse, Secondary Spark

Brutal Battery: Your body will become a battery and gain the paired abilities of Absorb and Expend. Channeling the first will let you absorb all physical attacks and trauma you might suffer. Expend will let you empower your movements and release stored energy through touch. Absorb and Expend may not activate simultaneously, and neither will hamper movement.
Primary Spark, Secondary Finesse, Tertiary Might

Serpent Tactics: Gain serpent-like flexibility, speed, and stealth. You may secrete venom from your palms, soles, and nails. Your blood and flesh are also poisonous.
Finesse further improves the altered physiology.
Spark increases the potency and volume of produced toxins.

Chapter 4

Objective: Ensure Mila Stark survives until sunrise.
Danger Level: Mortal 9
Rewards: 100 Schema Credit, 1 Schema Token

Nil materialized in the center of a glowing magic circle. A man in regal clothing lay on the ground before him. A gold chain connected his black, fur-lined clock across his collarbone, and an eyeball-sized red stone hung from it. He appeared pallid and shriveled. It seemed all life and vitality had left him. Then smiled at Nil and mouthed unintelligible words. Then, his eyes lost focus, and the final hints of light left them.

“Father!” A young woman—more likely a teenager—screamed as he went limp. She ripped free of the man holding her back and rushed to the fallen’s side. It was then Nil noticed the small crowd watching him. They all stood crammed into the room’s far wall. Their eyes betrayed fear, concern, and the desire to move further away from him. His Haunting Visage didn't stand among them. The now-sobbing woman looked up at Nil. She wore fineries nearly of the same quality as her father’s. “You better be worth it.”

When Nil stepped forward, a brave, matronly woman in a maid uniform broke free of the huddle and rushed to the sobbing teenager. The pair held each other. “Come now, Lady Stark. Now isn’t the time for mourning.” A bright-eyed little girl peeked at Nil from behind the maid’s wide frock. She appeared more confused than terrified. “We need to keep it together and get through the night.”

“It’s Baroness Stark now,” an older man said. Unlike the maid, he remained with the group. Several obvious servants, children, and women in elegant outfits or night clothes lingered behind him. “You. Summoned. Solve this mess, won’t you?”

“I can if someone will explain what’s going on,” Nil replied, straightening his clothes. They had changed during the summoning. Instead of a t-shirt, jeans, and a waterproof jacket, he now wore a leather vest and grey short-sleeved tunic with rough black trousers. They looked and felt alien but were still comfortable.

The magic circle ceased glowing, and Nil stepped out of its limits. He closed the baron’s eyes, removed his cape, and draped it over his head and torso. Layla had explained that summonings and contacting the Nexus had significant costs. The Schema didn’t extend to all dimensions, after all, and didn’t see all. Parties that needed help and assistance from other realms often paid using powerful arcane relics or vast quantities of life essence. Nil hoped he had sufficient ability to do the baron’s sacrifice justice.

The older man—the estate’s head butler—and the newly named Baroness Stark told Nil a disjointed tale, leaving him to piece the story together.

A handful of hours had passed since the quest started. Mila’s father, Baron Stark, consumed all of his life force and a powerful arcane artifact to issue the quest. The Schema briefed Nil during the teleportation process. The family had recently received the estate following a successful military expedition for their king. While restoring the derelict fortress, they uncovered several ancient relics and awakened something during excavations underneath the property.

The creature had successfully slaughtered a handful of servants and guards three nights ago. When it didn’t reappear the following two evenings, the fort’s residents and soldiers relaxed, but then it returned on the third day just after sunset, more powerful and faster than before. All of the baron’s defensive force had already died. As far as Baroness Stark and the head butler could tell, there were no survivors except the individuals before him.

The fort’s library had heavy doors, and they barricaded it with whatever furniture they could gather. Several holes had opened in the wood. Giant splinters stuck out of it where something enormous had tried to break through.

“So?” The baroness asked, drying her eyes. Dark makeup smeared her “What’s your plan?”

“Plan?” Nil looked around, confused. “I don’t know where we are or what I’m up against. The only plan right now is to get you out of the fort or somewhere safe until sunrise.”

“Runaway?!” The head butler demanded. “What kind of Summoned are you?”

“The best your former master had the strength and means to summon. My quest doesn’t involve finding and killing this beast. Given the meager information you’ve provided, I wouldn’t know where to begin.” Nil looked at the baroness. “My job is to ensure your survival.”

The conversation or the magic from the summoning appeared to have attracted the monster lingering in the hall outside. A deep growl sent vibrations through the floor and walls. Then something struck the door. It and the rough barricade trembled. Wood cracked, and dust rained from the ceiling.

“Is there another exit?”

“No,” the maid said. “We took cover in the library because there is only one way in and out.” She flinched when the beast rammed the door, and the hinges groaned. “The door was supposed to hold.”

“It was a stupid decision, wasn’t it?” The butler snapped.

“That’s not necessary,” Nil caught the man’s arm as he raised it to swing at the maid. “Infighting and violence won’t help now. We need to think of how to get out of here or distract the beast.”

“It’s not true,” the little girl clinging to the maid’s skirt said.

The baroness and the remaining adults ignored her, fueling the growing argument and the fearful cries of the remaining children. However, Nil heard the little voice and kneeled next to the girl. “What's not true, little lady?”

“There’s another door.”

The baroness fell silent, looking at the girl with confusion in her eyes. Meanwhile, the rest continued their cries and heated exchange as the monster continued to bash at the door.

“Can you show me?” Nox asked.

The girl nodded. She hesitated at first but eventually released the maid’s skirt and led Nil to the bookshelves on the far wall opposite the one where the crowd huddled. Baroness Stark followed close behind him, carrying a luminous candlestick with no flame. The light appeared to come from the tip of the seemingly ordinary candle. It wasn’t an electronic light and carried the characteristic blue luminosity of modern aether-tech.

The child struggled to climb the shelves, so Nil picked her up and helped her get to the book she wanted. When the girl pulled it, something clicked in the wall, and the bookcases parted, revealing a doorway and corridor just wide enough for one person to pass through at a time.

“Excuse me!” Nil called. “We have an exit!”

His words fell on deaf ears. The crying and arguments continued. Despite the monster trying to break through the door, the latter had intensified. The butler, maids, other noblewomen, and children only fell silent when Baroness Stark whistled.

“Do you want to die quarreling and crying or fight to survive?” She shouted. “We have a way out! Come on.”

The monster outside appeared to understand her words. It roared, and the banging stopped. Everyone fell silent for a moment, looking between the giant wooden doors and the narrow exit. The head butler broke away from the group and limped toward the hidden corridor. One by one, more followed, moving faster than him. Several children broke free of their handmaids and guardians, running toward Nil and the Baroness.

Unfortunately, the first of them only made it halfway across the room before the doors burst inwards. Nil felt horrible doing so, but he grabbed the Baroness and little girl’s hands and ran through the hidden doorway. He didn’t wait to see the monster or ensure more made it to the exit. The screams that followed left his chest tight and throat dry. However, he did not intend to die to the beast or fail his first quest. The consequences of the latter were apparently dire. Nil’s priorities involved ensuring Baroness Stark lived until sunrise, and he hoped to make that happen no matter what.

I might not have the strength to save everyone yet. But, at least I can start with two.

“What are you doing?!” Baroness Stark demanded, attempting to wrench her hand free. She lacked the strength to overpower him. “We can’t just abandon everyone.”

Nil ignored her. They slowed to a brisk walk when the monster’s sounds didn’t get any closer. He kept his ears pricked for any footsteps in the secret passage behind them. Unfortunately, he heard none.

“My father didn’t sacrifice his life, so you can let everyone die!”

“I don’t have the time to argue with you right now.” They slowed on approaching a dead end.

The little girl pointed at the dull metal hinges reflecting the candles’ blue glow. She stroked them, using Nil to reach the ones out of her reach, then pushed on a panel. The wall swung inwards, and a tapestry hung over the opening.

Nil peeked outside first. Scratched walls, a couple of decapitated bodies, and broken furniture lay in the corridor outside. He saw no threats and could still hear the monster accompanied by cries of pain and terror in the distance behind him.

“How did you find out about this?” The baroness asked.

Something stirred just around the corridor before Nil could shush her. Both women stiffened. He tried to usher them back into the secret passageway, but the door swung shut as soon as they were outside. The little girl’s panicked eyes suggested she didn’t know how to open the door from the outside.

A humanoid creature with leathery charcoal skin turned the corner. Its face had no eyes, but the two giant nostrils on its face twitched. Then its bat-like ears did the same. It grinned at them. Something deep within its throat glowed red, and the silhouette of several rows of jagged teeth sent shivers down Nil’s spine.

“Stay behind me,” he whispered when the creature charged.

Nil adopted a guard stance and activated the Schema’s gifts. The monster pounced and swung a giant clawed hand in a wide arc. Instead of trying to redirect the blow, he caught it on his forward arm. Nil felt no pain, and the creature’s arm stopped in its tracks as soon as they made contact. A strange presence swelled within. It felt like a balloon inflating.

Even though it had no eyes, the monster appeared as surprised as Nil felt. He ceased channeling the Schema given power’s first ability, and activated the second. The balloon’s contents flowed through his body, and Nil felt more powerful than ever. He drove his right fist into the creature’s upper abdomen, using his hips and shoulder to muster all the power he could afford. The monster’s torso caved as it flew several feet backward. A stomach-churning splat and several crunches followed when it struck the wall. His internal balloon deflated, losing all of its contents.

“Mr Summoned!” The little girl screamed.

When Nil turned, he found an identical creature standing behind Baroness Stark. It had shoved its giant clawed hand through her chest. He had neither heard it approach or attack her. When he charged, the beast dropped the woman and fled.

“No. No. No.” Nil fell to his knees, cradling the baroness’s body. She was already limp, and life remained in her eyes. He had failed the quest. The Schema wouldn’t take him home, and he would probably suffer a miserable fate in the distant world. His parents’ financial plight worried Nil more than whatever fate awaited him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to the dead woman.

“Silly saved me,” the little girl whispered. “I thought she hated me, but she saved me.”

“I’m sorry, little girl,” Nil said. He had done it again. He had let someone he could’ve saved die in front of him. It took all of his willpower not to let his voice tremble. “I should’ve done better. We’ll get out of here, though. You just wait.”

“You can call me Mila.” She leaned over the dead baroness and kissed her forehead. “It’s not your fault, Mr Summoned. You’re doing your best.”

Nil’s brows furrowed as he picked up the child. “I’m Nil, Mila. What’s your full name?”

The girl studied his face, looking confused. “Mila Stark,” she answered. “I suppose it's Baroness Mila Stark, now.”

Guilt and sorrow still weighed on Nil, but the tightness in his chest somewhat faded. He hadn’t failed his quest yet. “Alright, Baroness Mila Stark. Let's get you to safety.”

Chapter 5

“Why Brutal Battery?” Layla had asked when Nil made his decision. “I saw you fight. You seem better suited to parrying and dodging your opponent’s attack while landing opportune strikes. The high Finesse potential is excellent for that.

“Sonic Armament is all about quickly disabling your foes before dispatching them and using enhanced senses to avoid their attacks. Meanwhile, Serpent Tactics would let you become a hit-and-run fighter. Strike stealthily and swiftly while your venom slowly whittles away at your opponent.”

“Both are great options, but Brutal Battery ensures I can stand my ground and never have to back down,” Nil had replied. “Avoiding attacks takes a lot of focus. Some could get away from me and strike whoever I’m protecting. Serpent Tactics seem especially bad for helping someone in trouble. If I had it while that junkie was attacking the officer, would it help me pull her off him or get between them?”

“No, but with Sonic Armament, he would be off her, staggering around for balance, or perhaps unconscious.”

“True, but Brutal Battery seems more my style and, in my opinion, feels like it has greater potential. The Schema doesn’t use the exact words, but it sounds a lot like I’ll gain the power to absorb kinetic energy and then charge my movements with it. Sonic Armament perhaps has the best starting set of abilities, but its future will lean further into sound and shockwaves. Am I right?” Layla nodded. “What if the Schema lets me tap into true kinetic energy at the higher realms?”

“I suppose that’s sound reasoning.” Layla flashed a knowing smile.

“Besides. It feels like Brutal Battery’s only limit is how much energy my body can store. More Spark and ascending to higher realms should change that. All I need to empower myself is to get hit. Meanwhile, the others need time, rest, and proper food for recovery.”

“It’s not that simple,” Layla told him. “Absorb and Expend are channeled abilities, and no amount of growth will let you use either at the same time. You need to master their timely activation and how to switch between them swiftly. Absorb isn’t too challenging. However, Expend will take a lot of practice. Using all of your stored energy at once or charging your whole body with it is wasteful. Only time and practice will help you gauge how much to use at a time and only consume that quantity. Because once you’re depleted, you can do nothing but Absorb.”

Nil clamped his hand over Mila’s mouth as the creaking outside of the closet grew louder. She squirmed under his hold, but he ignored her protests. The little girl only ceased when a deep growl rattled the wooden walls surrounding them. They held their breaths, hoping the monster hadn’t heard them. Nil believed he could beat the giant outside using Brutal Battery’s abilities but doubted his ability to complete the task while protecting Mila. He refused to let the child suffer the same fate as her sister.

A distant scream and crash reached their ears. The monster outside heard it, too. It released an almost human cackle before racing away, proving far more lightfooted than its size would suggest.

“Why aren’t you fighting?” Mila hissed, prying his hand off her face. “My father issued the quest so you’d fight for us!”

“Nope.” Nil checked the quest parameters for the hundredth time. Nothing had changed.

Objective: Ensure Mila Stark survives until sunrise.
Danger Level: Porcelain 5
Rewards: 100 Schema Credit, 1Schema Token

The Schema had offered Nil a choice of three possible quests once he finalized his ability, distributed his bonus Schema Tokens, and finished his onboarding procedures. The first involved a reconnaissance mission in an active war zone. The second required him to assist in the extermination of an undead horde. Both felt too chaotic, with several moving parts for his first quest. Nil had combat training but only knew how to fight one opponent or focus on a solitary objective at a time. Protecting a teenager from a lone threat sounded like the easiest of the challenges, and it was one rank easier than the others. Now, after watching the last baroness die because of his negligence, Nil doubted his decision.

“The job entails keeping you alive, not fighting whatever that is.”

Mila protested when Nil attempted to silence her again. She bit his hand hard enough to draw blood. He gritted his teeth through the pain. They only moved after the footsteps had disappeared into the distance, and the visage nodded. The woman in the bloody white parka and ripped blue jeans had appeared an hour after the initial summoning. Now that he knew what he knew, it felt foolish to ignore her. Nil grabbed Mila’s forearm and dragged her out of the closet. Mila ran barefoot while he left his hard-soled boots on. Channeling Absorb as they moved nullified the sound and also slowly inflated the imaginary balloon.

Nil refused to go beyond the quest parameters unless necessary. He worried splitting his attention between fighting and protecting or safeguarding multiple targets would only result in failure. Several trained combatants and mages had already died at the creature’s hands. He didn’t have a chance.

• Might: Mortal 6
• Finesse: Mortal 6
• Mind: Mortal 3
• Spark: Mortal 9

Brutal Battery: Mortal 1

• Absorb: Mortal 1
• Expend: Mortal 1

Curses:

• Haunting Visage
• Armsmaster’s Disappointment

Layla had shown Nil how to simplify his interface and pull up only the section he desired. None of his attributes had naturally grown over the past handful of hours. However, his power and the accompanying abilities had already gained a rank after using it against three more humanoid beasts. Mila didn’t know what they were or where they had come from. Apparently, the giant had appeared alone during its first night of terror.

Nil felt a glimmer of hope when they reached the stairs. Two flights, and they’d be on the ground floor. Then, the exit was only a short sprint away. However, when he tried to descend, Mila stopped him. She wrapped her hands around Nil’s forearm and dug her heels into the rug underfoot.

“What the hell are you doing, Mila?” Nil whispered. He hesitated, forcing her forward. They stood far too close to the stairs, and Mila had displayed a clumsy streak during their past few hours of running and hiding. Nil would fail his quest and probably get stuck with the monsters if she stumbled and broke her neck on the way down. “We need to move before it picks up our scent.”

Mila didn’t answer. Her face appeared paler than usual as she stared down the dark corridor to their left. Nil guessed her silver-grey eyes had keener vision than his. A shape emerged from the blackness. It took him a moment to identify it.

“Ilsa?” Mila kept her voice low as she called out to the woman in the estate’s maid uniform. It was the same woman she had clung to when Nil first arrived. “I thought you were dead.” She waved Ilsa closer. Meanwhile, the visage vigorously shook her head. She looked sad and heartbroken. “Come with us.”

“We need to move!” Nil tugged on her arm, hoping she’d descend the stairs of her own free will. “C’mon!”

“No!” Mila hissed, tightening her hold on Nil’s arm. “She’s been my handmaid since I was six! We’re not leaving without her. Come, Ilsa! Nil will get us out of here. Lets—”

The words caught in Mila’s throat as Ilsa stumbled into the light. Red gouges cut across her torso from her left shoulder to her right hip. Red stained her lips and chin, and her eyes were a solid black.

“No.” Mila gasped. “Ilsa…”

The former handmaid released an ear-piercing screech as she raced toward them. Mila released Nil, but her knees failed her. The preteen noblewoman dropped onto her bottom, squeezed her eyes shut, and slapped her hands over her ears.

Nil had hoped to avoid further combat until he got the opportunity to practise switching between abilities. It was easy to constantly channel Absorb but switching to Expend took focus and a couple of seconds. Not all of his opponents had given him the opportunity or time as the first. His immovability and ability to stop their movement on contact didn't shock all of them for as long if at all. A rip across his vest, bleeding shoulder, and cut across the cheek remained as signs of his failure to time things appropriately.

Unfortunately, Mila dashed his hopes with her sudden shutdown. Retreat wasn’t an option. He didn’t like Mila’s chances racing down the steep stone staircase either. Nil had no choice but to stand his ground and fight.

The narrow, long corridors ensured nothing had room to hide. Yet Nil refused to leave Mila and meet the charge. Fighting with her next to him had its risks, but he felt close proximity gave him better control of the situation. Meanwhile, Ilsa gnashed her new fangs like a shark as she approached. Her fingers had grown into claws not too different from that of the bat-like humanoid beasts, leaving Nil to wonder whether they were once human, too.

The former handmaiden scythed her arms inwards. Absorb ensured they stopped as soon as they touched Nil’s raised forearms. He felt glad for the two tokens he had invested in Body. Brutal Battery ensured he didn’t need the strength or durability, but he was sure exhaustion would’ve affected his fighting skills if not for the additional stamina and recovery.

It was tempting to use the energy in the inflated balloon. An empowered headbutt would probably be enough to kill the cursed or reanimated Ilsa—Nil wasn’t sure which it was. He could also turn his block into a grab. Holding both of her arms would give him enough time to switch from Absorb to Expend. Then, a kick to the torso would kill his opponent.

Instead, he used all of the natural strength that Might gave him to turn and push Ilsa into the landing’s railing. She gnashed her teeth and wriggled as Nil held her forearms to her torso. His internal balloon continued to swell as her strength fought against Absorb. Despite the monstrous strength and transformations, Ilsa still weighed the same as a woman of her dimensions. He lifted the woman—using his knees instead of his back as taught by regular safety training—and then tipped her over the side. The black eyes widened as Ilsa fell. He heard her strike banisters on the way down before stopping with an ugly crunch.

Absorb has progressed to Mortal 2!

“I’m sorry I shut down.” Mila’s words came out as a whimper.

Nil had no answer for her. He ignored his screaming arm muscles and hauled her onto her feet. He pulled Mila up the stairs instead of leading her to the ground floor.

“Why are we going up?”

“The creature worked its way up from the ground floor, did it not?”

Mila nodded.

“Then Ilsa won’t be the only one raised by the curse. I bet the people it killed the last time it came are now those bat people. We’ll hide in the unused floors.”

A thundering roar shook the building. Human screams of varying pitches echoed it. The creature’s signature scraping footsteps sounded closer and heavier. Ilsa’s screeches and their scuffle had drawn its attention. Fortunately, it wasn’t the fastest of pursuers in its current state.

“The building materials and old furniture might just help us rig a trap,” Nil added.

The creature sounded close. When Nil and Mila reached the fourth floor, they could hear it scraping its way up the stairs. He hoped the heavy, disproportionate body, and balance issues would make its ascent slow, giving them enough time to find a decent hiding space.

A glimmer of hope stirred in Nil's chest when the pair passed an old, dirty window. The first lights of dawn bathed the stone floor. Sunrise was close. His quest would end as soon as the sun peeked over the horizon. He didn’t know whether that meant the creatures would perish in the light or retreat underground—the how didn’t matter as long as Mila survived and Nil completed his first quest.

“This will end soon, Mila. I promise.” He hoped the reassuring words would keep her from shutting down again. “You’re going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

“How?” Mila asked. Her voice was now little more than a croak. “Everyone is dead.”

Chapter 6

After spending most of his early teen years in the countryside just northeast of London, Nil knew the smell of rotting wood better than most. Damp from the regular drizzles and occasional overflowing canals often wore down the older structures in Hemel Hempstead. His father once worked as a civil engineer for the underfunded local council. As a result, Nil had learned to recognize minor structural issues and also recognize build history.

The fort appeared reasonably stable until the third floor. The ancient masons had done an excellent job of making the structure durable and long-lasting. Given the fantastical creatures and minor magic Nil had witnessed, it wouldn’t surprise him if the fort owed its longevity to arcane construction techniques.

The fourth floor looked like a comparatively recent construction. It appeared that the previous owners wanted another level and used unskilled workers to slap a ceiling over the old roof. Uneven support beams grew out of random spots on the floor, and in a handful of locations, they had bunched several thin pillars together. The ceiling had holes, and it was clear rain had been through.

As Nil and Mila ventured deeper into the floor, the pair encountered recent collapses. They appeared no more than a week old.

“The workers quit five days ago,” Mila explained when Nil asked her about it. “A bunch of them started getting hurt after they cleared the cellar and dungeons. The foreman said this place is cursed. We should’ve listened.”

Nil formulated a rough idea. Given their combined combat prowess, he and Mila had no chance of defeating the creature. However, if he triggered a collapse, perhaps they could slow it long enough to survive until sunrise.

When they reached the floor, Nil had spotted a corner with a stone ceiling above. Since they were initially looking for a hiding place, he dragged Mila in the opposite direction. So, Nil targeted the opposite corner, hoping to find a patch of stone for his ward to take cover.

“Careful,” he whispered, pulling Nil closer when Mila brushed against a crumbling wooden pillar. The half-a-second of contact sent waves of creaks and groans through the ceiling. The noblewoman tried stopping when the wood complained even louder ahead. “What can you tell me about this thing, Mila? Any bit of information, no matter how mundane, might give us a chance.”

“Father said this land belonged to the wildlings,” Mila’s voice quivered as she spoke. She kept her volume so low it was barely a whisper. “Ilsa told me stories about them. They worship the spirits of nature. When the wildlings turned their back on the land and sky, the benevolent spirits turned its back on them, leaving the wildlings desperate and starving. The cruel and desperate turned to murder and cannibalism. The evil and darkness in their souls seeped into the land, and it cursed them.

“The monster—” Her face contorted, and her jaw clenched as she continued. “This filthy beast kills everything it sees. I suppose what it doesn’t consume comes back cursed.”

“Like Ilsa.” Nil sighed. “Probably those bat things too.”

Mila nodded. Her silver-grey eyes shone in the darkness. “Like Ilsa. She was a good woman. Ilsa took care of me after Mother died. She didn’t deserve this.” She tightened her hold on Nil’s hand. “I know we can’t kill this thing, but can we at least hurt it?”

“I’ll try.” Nil slowed as they reached the floor’s far wall. “I’m going to need your help, though. It won’t be easy.”

“Anything. I’m not scared anymore.”

“That’s fine. I’m terrified enough for the both of us.”

The creature roared when it finally reached the top of the stairs. While waiting, Nil and Mila had prepared for the final countdown to sunrise. Mila stood under a patch of stone roof in clear view of the stairs. The cursed entity stumbled around momentarily, bumping into the broken furniture piled around the top of the stairs and making the entire floor creak. Its deep wheezing sounded alarmingly human. Then it sighted Mila and released a blood-curdling scream.

Both Nil and Mila clutched their heads. The high pitch and volume hurt their ears, but it was the horrifying visions that almost forced the pair down onto their hands and knees. Nil had only heard the scream from a distance before and through several walls. Now, with nothing blocking the sound and the glowing red eyes staring them down, the discomfort was several times worse. It caused a headache worse than any he had felt before. In fact, the night he became a Summoned, Nil’s skull had cracked against the police van when the junkie threw him. The pain paled compared to what he felt now.

Nil saw flashes of the half-devoured corpses left behind by the monster. Then he saw images of the drug-crazed Summoned battering the police officer, followed by the familiar woman in a white parka and jeans. He simultaneously felt rage and horror as his late mother and then father substituted the mutilated corpses.

“Make it stop!” Mila shouted, and Nil worried the creature would kill them with its scream alone.

When Nil stepped in front of Mila and channeled Absorb, the headache didn’t cease, but the screaming stopped a couple of seconds later. The monster started its advance, grunting and snorting like a challenged bull. Nil finally got a clear view of the creature that had made the past few hours the second-most terrifying time of his life.

The entity stood at least a meter taller than Nil, and ugly black-brown matted fur covered its body. Its knees bent backward and had hooves instead of feet. The creature walked with a hunch as it advanced toward them, and its long arms almost dragged on the stone floor.

“Get ready,” Nil whispered as he slipped out of the creature's path, giving it a clear view of Mila. The defenseless noblewoman trembled but stood firm.

Very human-looking hands gripped the unstable furniture piles as the creature stumbled toward them. The monster’s torso featured a bulbous, furless abdomen that appeared mostly human. The odd shape and weight distribution made it front-heavy, and Nil wondered how it kept upright without constantly needing support. Its spindly fingers reminded Nil of a tarantula’s legs, and the jagged claws left gouges on the surfaces it touched. Then the creature passed the window, and Nil finally saw the ugly head.

It was once human.

A man’s face peeked out from under the giant stag-skull helm. The wearer hadn’t bothered cleaning the bone or curing it first. Rotting tissue stuck to it, explaining the ugly-sweet smell in the air. Limbs and the organs of its victims hung from the antlers. Given the monster's appearance and tale, Nil guessed it resembled Wendigos from Native American mythos.

“I don’t want to stay here,” Mila shouted. Despite the unnecessarily loud protest, she remained standing in the assigned spot. Her bravery paid off a moment later when the creature wandered into the trap.

Nil had used his stored energy to weaken several pillars between the stairs and Mila. They did nothing to deter the beast. However, the rotting wooden beams buckled as its limbs and disproportionate torso brushed against them. The creaks and groans overhead grew louder. The sounds alarmed Nil but did little to deter his opponent. The monster didn’t slow when wooden scraps rained on its head and back either.

Then, it passed Nil’s hiding spot, and he leaped into action. He raced towards a cluster of wooden beams just behind the beast. He burned stored energy just for a moment as he kicked off the ground and threw himself into them. The force shattered the rotting wood and carried him through it. Nil landed on his face.

Fortunately, he had successfully switched from Absorb to Expend just after breaking through the pillars. Splinters had scratched his cheeks but the rough landing resulted in no further harm. He ignored the discomfort and scrambled forward on all fours. Nil just about reached the stone wall and threw his arms over his head before everything came down. He screamed in pain as his internal battery reached capacity and pain arced through his shoulders and across his back.

Expend has progressed to Mortal 2!
Brutal Battery has progressed to Mortal 2!

Mila didn’t make a sound, and he sat immobile while the creature roared its angry protests. Several minutes passed before the cries ceased and the dust cleared. The sun had risen over the horizon, and its rays peeked over the mostly intact stone walls.

Nil climbed over the unstable debris and weaved his way to Mila. He found her squatting with her arms folded above her head. Mila screamed when he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s sunrise,” he said. “We made it.”

“Is it dead?” She asked, looking up.

“I doubt it. But the quest said you need to make it to sunrise. That must mean it's over, right?”

“I don’t know,” Mila replied, looking past Nil at the mountain of wood and rusted metal behind him. “I’m not sure how quests are supposed to work. Father said the cursed must rest when the sun rises. Maybe the beast has gone to sleep.”

A Schema notification flashed in the corner of Nil’s vision. Before checking it, he dispelled all the spikes buried underneath the rubble. He immediately felt lighter, and the mental fatigue somewhat faded.

You’ve completed your quest!

You have 100 Schema Credit.

Escort Mila Stark to the fort’s stables to trigger exit teleportation and earn the remainder of your reward.

“Let’s get out of here,” Nil said, offering Mila an arm.

Mila nodded. She tightly gripped his right hand. The pair moved slowly, climbing carefully over the rubble and toward the stairs. Much to Nil’s horror, the debris moved just as they crested a mound. A deep growl made the ground vibrate under their feet. He pushed Mila. The young noblewoman screamed as gravity and unstable footing forced her forward. Before he could follow, the rubble rose between them, and the monster’s torso burst free.

The crimson eyes met Nil’s, and he was sure he saw the ugly maw under the stag helm grin. The beast half turned, and its long arm shot forward. Mila screamed as the beast’s monstrous hand grabbed her around the waist.

Nil desperately scanned his surroundings. He was hoping to find something long enough to stab the creature in the neck or face. Brute force and burning all of his stored energy wouldn’t do. Then he saw his answer. A section of the roof hadn’t collapsed. The wooden beams were bent but still held it up. He scrambled toward it as the beast pulled Mila toward its expanding mouth. He hit the supports with an empowered punch, burning a third of his stores, and successfully broke the rotten wood in a single blow. Nothing fell on the monster. However, it lost its shade.

The beast instantly dropped Mila and screamed. Its fur immediately caught flame, burning away like toilet paper. The skin underneath bubbled and burned, too, revealing flesh and bone. A giant heart glowing with the same light as its eyes throbbed within the rib cage.

A familiar feeling stirred inside Nil. His instincts told him to take the opportunity to flee, but some of him believed damaging the heart would end the beast. Fields of tall grass surrounded the fort in every direction. Unless she ran into a patrol or sympathetic travelers, he guessed Mila would need to ride for at least a day and a night before finding someone capable or willing to help her. Nil saw the visage smiling out of the corner of his eye as he made his decision.

Apparently, the monster was speedy and agile when the night started. Combat and gluttony had made it slow and imbalanced. If Nil didn’t end the beast, it would probably take cover and then pursue Mila through the night. The noblewoman would perish with no one to protect her. The same could happen because of wildlife or outlaws, but Nil wanted to give her the best possible chance.

Nil picked fight over flight. He scrambled over the shifting wood, moving on all fours when necessary. Fortunately, the beast was too busy protecting its head from the sun and wriggling free of the rubble. It didn’t see him coming. Nil ignored the flames licking at his exposed skin and grabbed a slimy rib. He held his breath to avoid breathing in the acrid smoke and plunged his shield’s pointy end into the monster. It blindly swiped at him, but Nil pressed himself against the torso and avoided the blow. He didn’t dare get hit without Absorb active. Switching between the two abilities would make him too slow, so he imagined the balloon and holding the mouth closed with two fingers.

After taking a moment to steady himself, Nil released the restraints, channeled Expend, and struck the beast’s chest. The blow opened a gouge in the chest, drawing scalding blood. Black clots accompanied it and stuck to his skin like tar. Everything stung and burned, but he continued fighting. The punch had damaged the remaining hide and flesh, but the bones underneath appeared unharmed.

The creature thrashed and swiped at Nil, forcing him to switch from Expend to Absorb. The awkward angle and the injuries ensured it didn’t get any clean hits off. As a result, a single blow wasn’t enough to inflate his imagined balloon all the way. Instead, he got the chance to launch another strike. Unfortunately, the monster found another burst of strength and redoubled its efforts at shaking Nil off as soon as he switched to Expend. He had no choice but to desperately grab at the exposed ribs and hold on for dear life.

Much to Nil’s surprise, the bone in his grasp and the surrounding flesh exploded. Shards shredded his arms, and a chip sliced his cheek just below the right eye. Any higher, and he’d be half blind. It wasn’t his grip strength that inflicted the damage. He had failed to switch from Absorb to Expend and squeeze the balloon’s mouth shut. All of his stored energy rushed free through his now uncomfortable, hot, and slightly burnt palm. He had released the battery’s contents through touch alone. Something not included in Brutal Battery’s wording occurred to him, too. The bone shrapnel had damaged every exposed bit of him except his palm—the surface releasing the energy. The injury it suffered appeared connected to Expend.

Nil stuck his hand through the fiery wound, grabbed the heart, and pulled with all of his strength. Then, a thrashing limb struck his side and threw him off the beast. Mila was on him the moment he landed. The little girl had removed her blouse, leaving her top half only protected by a pink undershirt. She wiped at the blood clinging to Nil’s face and arms. The skin stung in the affected areas. It felt as if Nil had opened an oven set to steam and not moved away while the angry vapors assaulted him.

Behind them, the creature stood immobile like a statue, burning blood flowing from its open chest. The heat left its heart, and it crumbled like ash in Nil’s scorched hand, leaving nothing but an eyeball-sized sphere full of ugly orange, brown, and yellow flames.

“Now, it's over,” Mila said, throwing her arms around Nil. He winced as she squeezed his bruised ribs. The beast’s final blow had cracked several somethings in his body. If not for his increased Might, Nil was sure he would’ve lost consciousness. “Thank you.”

Chapter 7

Mila cried for most of their journey out of the building. Remains of the deceased littered the halls. They passed her half-siblings and staff, who had served the house since before her birth. Some lay in pieces, while the remaining displayed signs of brief reanimation. Instead of heading straight to the exit, they visited her father’s remains. Baron Stark’s pocketwatch was a family keepsake and vital for accessing their family’s treasuries and hidden caches. She made incoherent promises through quiet sobbing and hugged him one last time before they descended the stairs.

The newly appointed baroness almost collapsed when she reached the bottom of the stairs and found Ilsa’s twisted remains. Her claws and fangs had reverted to their former state. Mila kissed the dead woman’s cheek, and blabbering cries appropriate for a girl her age followed. Despite the pain racking his body and the mind-numbing discomfort of his right arm, he waited patiently. Fortunately, Mila didn’t mourn for long, and they exited the keep together.

“Where will you go?” Nil asked as they approached the stables. He knew nothing about horses, but they appeared calm and unharmed.

“My mother’s ancestral estate is one-and-a-half days’ ride east of here,” she answered. “Grandfather will take care of me and send word to my fiance. We'll scour the fort together once he arrives with his knights and ensure no curses or other ancient terrors are haunting it.”

“You have a fiance?” Nil raised an eyebrow. “Are you even thirteen?”

“I’m eleven. I’m unsure how they do it in your world, but we nobles are engaged young but only marry after reaching adulthood at sixteen.”

“Well, I’m glad you won’t be all alone. Ride safe. Alright?” He thought it best not to talk about Earth's morality and laws. His morals and beliefs had no place in the alien world. He had no duties beyond completing his quest.

“I’ll try my best.” Mila smiled. “If I make it, we’ll see each other again.”

“Oh? Will you request me specifically for quests? Is that possible?”

The noblewoman shrugged. “My betrothed is a prince. He’ll be king someday, and I his queen. Royals issue quests all the time. I bet they have the means to request specific Summoneds. You’re the first of your kind I’ve met, you know.”

“In case it wasn’t obvious, this was my first quest.”

“That explains a lot. However, you slew a Cursed One on your first outing. Something tells me you have a brilliant future.”

Mila hugged Nil one last time before saddling her horse. Now that the adrenaline rush had run its course, his ribs hurt even more. They unlocked the kennels, and Mila left the fort’s grounds. The family’s hounds followed her. It intrigued Nil how the Cursed One had only targeted humans and left all the animals alone. He suspected such entities would appear in future quests, and Nil needed to learn more about them.

A Schema message appeared in front of Nil’s eyes as Mila disappeared over a hill, and the world turned white. When color returned a heartbeat later, a fountain as big as Trafalgar Square’s centerpiece stood before him. The ceiling and surrounding architecture told him the Schema had returned him to the Nexus. Dozens stood around the titanic structure, talking amongst themselves or interacting with invisible Schema interfaces.

The Fountain of Pirene senses your injuries. Would you like to receive healing?

4 Schema Credits will remove all your bruises and partially heal all lacerations and burns.

13 Schema Credits will heal all of your injuries.

15 Schema Credits will heal all ailments.

Nil didn’t know what health problems he had but had heard and read about the fountain’s capabilities. More experienced Summoned reported using it to cure cancer, auto-immune diseases, and chronic illnesses. It was more expensive than using the strained and currently underfunded National Health Service and offered infinitely better results.

Despite the cost, Nil opted for the third option. All of his aches and pains immediately faded. New, unblemished skin replaced the stinging, burnt patches, and breathing became easier as well. The tension between his eyes eased. Nil wasn’t aware of any sinus issues but guessed the fountain had fixed whatever problem he had. He wished the Summoned had gained the privilege of bringing guests to the Nexus. He would’ve loved to rid his father of his chronic pain and perhaps cure his diabetes.

“Good job, Nil!” Layla exclaimed, making Nil jump. The fountain’s effects and possibilities intrigued him so much that he had momentarily lost track of the world around him. “The Schema was right to invest in you—” She paused, looking at the other Summoned in the area. It was Layla’s ego copy that had approached him. He guessed they weren’t used to seeing her out in the open. Talk of the Schema investing in someone probably wasn’t ordinary either. “How about we talk in my office? It's customary to meet with your caseworker following the first quest.”

Arrows directed Nil down crowded hallways and down a set of stairs. Fellow Summoned shot Nil angry glances when he bumped into them while following the Schema's directions. It took a handful of minutes to find Layla’s office.

“How much do you know about the Schema and how things work around here?” Layla asked when he claimed the seat opposite her.

“I know that we can pick available quests through the Schema interface at any time and must complete one at least every eight weeks,” Nil answered. “If there is a quest perfectly suited for me, the Schema will notify me.”

“So, not a lot then. That’s alright. You’re new, and I’ll update you whenever necessary. You’re mostly right about how quest issuing works, but the eight-week interval isn’t a hard barrier. The gap increases with service; long quests often come with longer breaks. However, you need to take a week off between quests and be in a reasonably calm state and not in physical contact with another living entity for the summoning to occur.” Layla leaned back in her chair and smiled. “That’s not what I wanted to discuss, though. This meeting is regarding your performance.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t do better,” Nil said. “It took me far too long to figure out the timings right, and I’m afraid my martial abilities aren’t yet adapted to Brutal Battery. Maybe I could’ve saved more people if I were more skilled.”

“What are you talking about, Nil?” Layla laughed. “You went above and beyond all expectations. Your actions unlocked a new possible future for this world.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“The Fates and the Schema are closely tied. We consult with them to forecast the outcome of the quest and how the actions of the Summoned might affect the world. The chances of Mila Stark perishing were unusually high.”

“Are you saying the Schema set me up for failure?” Nil frowned. “That’s a bit twisted, don’t you think.”

“Oh, not at all. This was a Mortal-Five quest. You were forecasted to have a seventy-percent chance of success. We believed Mila would flee the fort and make a beeline for her grandfather’s home. Unfortunately, the Cursed One would use the day to recuperate and grow stronger after digesting all it consumed. It would wake up faster and follow her scent after sunset.

“The Fates believed the Cursed One would find her on the outskirts of a hamlet and kill her and most of the residents. The survivors would spread the news, spreading rage and fear. In this possible future, her grandfather and fiance’s family would launch a campaign to eliminate the Cursed One and establish an organization to seek out all like it.”

“So, her death was to be a catalyst for greater change,” Nil stated.

“Exactly. Now, the Fates predict Mila will be the herald of change. You inspired her and showed her even the weak and meek can challenge and defeat a Cursed One. Mila will spend the next decade training as a mage and join the campaign to cleanse the land. She might become a warrior queen someday and save more lives. Your actions didn’t just save her life, Nil. You might’ve birthed a brighter possible future for the kingdom.”

Nil opened his mouth, but no words came out. He had only thought of the benefits the Summoned enjoyed and never thought about what impact their quests and actions could have. He thought he was doing nothing more than preventing a young noblewoman’s death. Nil didn’t expect the act—especially killing the monster—to have such an incredible impact.

“You also killed a high-Iron-rank foe,” Layla continued. “Dumb luck probably had a lot to do with your victory, but the Schema believes you displayed incredible grit, courage, and wits. As a result, it's upgrading your reward.”

A notification appeared when Layla flicked a finger.

Reward upgraded!

You may choose from the following on top of the promised Schema Token:

• 3 Schema Tokens
• 1 Ascension Token
• Curse and Attribute Bonus

“This is going to be a challenging decision,” Nil commented. “I know you’re not allowed to help me, but I imagine Schema Tokens are a bad idea.”

“Why turn down better rewards for attributes you can raise with training and quests?” Layla smiled. “That’s what I would ask myself.”

“I suppose the curse is the best pick—”

“It would be for a more experienced and an ascended climber. Someone who can deal with the drawback of curses more easily and easily counters them. If it were my decision—which it's not, I’d jump at the opportunity of getting an Ascension Token.”

“And ascending Spark straight away?”

Layla shrugged. “When I got my first ascension token, I did that but later discovered that the token can ascend two peaked attributes simultaneously or one’s ability. Can you imagine how disappointed I was?”

“You were a Summoned, too?” Nil asked, surprised. “How long have you served the Nexus?”

“We aren’t allowed to talk about things like that,” she replied, waving dismissively. “Besides, it's rude to ask a lady time-related questions, especially when such concepts don’t exist here, and it's up to us to track how long we’ve been single.”

“Right. So, I should pick the Ascension Token and hold on to it.” Nil sighed. “So, no replies but Schema tokens. That’s disappointing.”

“Don’t forget about your Schema Token!” She said. “You can increase one of your physical attributes to make the quest even easier.”

Nil picked the Ascension Token and checked his attribute menu. A new Schema Token awaited him. He thought about it for a moment before investing it in Might. Since he had Gold potential in Finesse, raising it with training would be easier. The accompanying physical attribute would take a lot more effort and have proven itself invaluable. He needed it to power through burns and exhaustion. He was sure the Cursed One’s blow would’ve left him significantly injured without the additional Might.

“So, these Cursed Ones. I imagine they’re fonts of cursed energy.”

Layla nodded.

“Could creatures like them exist in Earth’s desolate areas? Maybe the cursed energy that plagues my arm came from such a source.”

“Impossible. The Schema would know. We have agents patrolling and studying your world to look out for the Void and Cursed Ones, too. No such existences have infiltrated your earth. Someone smuggled it onto your Earth, and it somehow ended up causing whatever event birthed your soul weapon and the energy plaguing it.”

“And what precisely is the process of getting rid of it?” Nil asked. “It's kind of frustrating to know I have a soul weapon but can’t use it.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do anything until you ascend past the Mortal ranks,” Layla answered. “We need resources to complete the service, or you need to complete a task noteworthy enough to gift you the privilege. I wouldn’t rush it. Anyway, you can’t manifest a soul weapon until you’re in Iron Realm. There are means of passing it between containers, but—”

“But I need to ascend to use it.” Nil sighed. “I get it.”

“However, I could teach you how to sense cursed energy. Given your long-time exposure, it shouldn’t be too challenging for you. That way, you can avoid sources and ensure the burden doesn’t get any bigger.”

“I’d like that very much, Layla. Thank you.”

Chapter 8

The Schema sent Nil back to the spot from where he’d been summoned. He wasn’t splattered against a Met-Police van. Instead, he stood on the pavement’s edge, his back pressed against one. The vehicle beeped as soon as he stepped away from it. Nil needed to set a safe recall space for future returns to Earth. It was noon, and if the Schema had dropped him off in the middle of the road, Oxford Street traffic would’ve flattened him.

“Hold it!” A police officer stepped in front of Nil before he could move. The thumb-long string of alien text tattooed across her neck suggested she was a Summoned. She carried no tools or insignia to hint at her discipline, but her eyes had a sheen similar to Mila’s. “We’ve been waiting for you, Mr Roy. You’re coming with me.”

“Am I under arrest?” Nil asked, eyes darting to the holstered Arthurtech weapon and handcuffs hanging from her belt.

“No,” she replied. “But you’re detained.

“Look. I know it didn’t look good with me sprinting out of a war zone, but I had nothing to do with whatever happened in Soho last night.”

“You’ve been gone for two days, Mr Roy.” The policewoman’s demeanor and tone was much friendlier than that of the officers before his summoning. Two of her colleagues watched from inside the van. “You’re not in any trouble.

“The officers were searching for a criminal mage. Your summoning proved that you’re not a Summoned. Scanning your ID told us you have no priors. Though stupid, your bravery saved two officers’ lives. If anything, the Metropolitan Police force owes you a commendation.” She walked to the police car parked in front of the van and held the rear passenger door open for him. “Unfortunately, the quantity of unregistered Summoneds has increased recently. So, I’m the local escort to the closest registration center. Your compliance will convince my superiors that you’re not connected to Summoned gangs.”

“Doesn’t the police have better things to do than wait around for me?”

“Following recent events, the higher-ups have decided to post two vehicles in this location. My shift is almost up. Someone will replace me in a few minutes.”

Nil sighed. “I planned to declare myself as soon as possible. Can’t I exchange my Schema credit as an unregistered, can I?”

“You’d be surprised by how many blow their Schema Credits in the Nexus Market, then come back to find themselves broke and jobless,” the officer explained. “If we leave the decision up to them: register and follow government guidelines or make easy money as a gang enforcer, guess what the majority pick.”

“It can’t be the majority, can it?” Nil asked, not resisting as she gently pushed him into the car. The officer placed a hand on the top of his head, ensuring he didn’t hit it on the top of the door. “The news says Summoned crime is rising, but I thought it was a quarter or third.”

“I work in vice, not analytics, but the statistics rarely lie. This is based on projections of how many Summoned blow their early earnings in the Nexus Market. Of course, we cannot confirm this, but given how many halfwits we arrest daily, I believe the numbers.”

Unlike the police van, the car wasn’t Arthurtech. Nil was sure an Expended-empowered kick would have no trouble forcing the door open. He could run for it, and once inside Soho, the police officer would struggle to find him. Fleeing would keep the government from restricting his freedoms, and Nil could take longer quests, keeping him away from Earth for months at a time. He would only need to worry about the mandatory one-week rest time between them. No government would dictate where he lived, what jobs he could undertake, or constantly monitor him.

The freedoms would come at a cost. Nil would never get to trade his Schema credits for gold or local currency. His family would face questioning and spend the remainder of their lives under constant surveillance. The latter was the price Nil refused to pay.

“Why did you do it?” The officer asked, breaking the silence.

“What?” The abrupt question forced him out of his daydreams and musings.

“Why did you risk your life to save Officer Johanssen? I’ve seen the footage and can’t make up whether you’re brave or stupid. Did you know her?”

“No. Nothing of the sort.” Nil hesitated. He often didn’t like talking about the incident and generally skirted the topic. However, whatever bothered him before didn’t anymore. “A tweaking Summoned killed my girlfriend.”

“I’m sorry. Your records didn’t mention anything of the sort.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Nil said. “This happened just over seven years ago. Her parents didn’t want her dating someone like me—”

“Someone like you?”

“Her parents are Indian, and I’m only half. They weren’t keen on her spending time with boys outside of their community, let alone dating them.”

“So you kept your relationship a secret?”

“Only our closest friends knew about us.” He sighed. “We were visiting Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park. A Summoned dealer got high on his own supply and ripped through the ice skating ring.”

“I remember that,” the officer said. “My mum and I were planning to visit, but the incident came on the news, and she swore we’d never go to Winter Wonderland again. Even though we have Summoned officers posted around Hyde Park year-round, Mum won’t go near it or let us visit. Were you there, too?”

“I watched the bastard cave in her face and failed to do anything to stop him.” The words came out easily but didn’t sound like his own. Seven years was a long time for most, but flashes of the incident still haunted him. Aisha’s visage sat in the car next to him. The bloody park and ripped jeans ensured he never forgot about his failure.

“If I remember correctly, he was a brute-discipline Summoned with some strength and recovery-enhancement power. You couldn’t have done anything even if you tried.”

“I know,” Nil replied. “It took me forever to accept the fact, but I know that now. When I saw the police wom—Officer Johanssen, lying on the ground, getting clobbered, everything came back all at once.”

“The rage?”

“No. The desperation. I just couldn’t stand to see the same thing happen again.”

“This isn’t an official statement from the Met Police, but thank you,” the policewoman said. “Officer Jones’ carelessness could’ve cost the force a valuable life and maybe resulted in far more destruction. Your actions slowed and distracted the tweaker long enough for backup to reach them.”

“Is Officer Johanssen okay?”

“She suffered a few broken bones and a concussion. She’s only an acquaintance, so I haven’t checked in personally, but I heard she plans on accepting a quest once she feels a little better. The fountain will fix her right up.”

“You’re a Summoned, too, aren’t you?”

“I am,” she replied. “Psionic discipline.”

“Is the city almost exclusively hiring you—us lot nowadays?” He recalled seeing the Psionic discipline far down Layla’s chart. It gave Mind and Spark equal weighting as primary attributes and used Finesse as a secondary.

“It might look that way, but no. We are often deployed around Soho, Hackney, Islington, Wembley, and its borders. Command wants us where the Summoned gangs are most active. Why? Are you considering a career change?”

“No. Just curious.”

The police car stopped halfway between Tottenham Court Road and Leicester Square station in front of the local branch of the Nexus Bank. The buildings also served as the Summoned registration and housing assignment center.

“You won’t run if I don’t escort you in, will you?” The officer said. “My shift ended just as you reappeared, and I want nothing more than to finish my day.”

“I won’t run,” Nil replied. “My dad will kill me if I become a fugitive.”

The policewoman laughed. She unlocked the car’s doors, and Nil exited. She stuck her arm out of the car before he could walk away, holding out a card. “I have your contact details and will be checking up on you. My number might prove helpful if you want any information regarding decent luduses. I know living amongst civilians, friends, and family is comforting, but there is value in habitating with other Summoneds. It's safer for you legally when things go wrong. Being around people with lives similar to yours will help, too.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. The thought of joining a ludus already crossed my mind—more for the training facilities and power guidance, though.”

“Understandable. Think about it, and once again, thank you, Mr Roy.”

Once the officer drove away, Nil marched into the Nexus Bank, eager to discover the current exchange rates. A receptionist and signs directed him to the Summoned registration center in the basement. He needed to get on the system before accessing the rest of the building. Nil spoke to the woman at the desk, and she had him wait for an available agent.

He checked his phone in the meantime. Nil wasn’t surprised when he found a long list of expletive-laden messages from his chef. It started with notifications of his lateness, then demands to know his location, and then threats to his job. He had received double the number of messages when he didn’t show up for a second day in a row.

“Where the hell are you?” Chef demanded when Nil called.

“The Nexus Bank on Tottenham Court Road.”

“No.”

“I didn’t make it home the day before yesterday.”

“Fucking hell, Nil. What did I tell you? The sous chef position was contingent on you not doing anything stupid like quitting after six months or becoming a Summoned.”

“It's not like I asked for this, Chef. The choice was between trying to survive with life-threatening injuries or becoming a Summoned.”

“Are you coming to work today?” Chef asked. “We have a party of twenty in the private dining room. I need you.”

“I don’t know how long registration and all the formalities will take,” Nil replied. “I need to update my family on everything as well. It’s unlikely—”

The chef hung up on Nil. When he rang the man again, the call went straight to voicemail.

“Everything okay, sir?” the man at the registration office’s reception desk asked.

“I’m pretty sure I just lost my job.”

“That’s unfortunate. I’m sure one of our agents can help you figure out your options. We offer job-seeking services for Summoned.”

“It’s mostly police and Corpo security jobs, isn’t it?” Nil asked.

The man nodded. “It’s primarily for people who’ve served the Schema for a while and get long breaks between quests. They’d rather risk their lives here than in some alien world full of dragons, manticores, and all the other stuff. A job might not be necessary if you intend to work frequent quests. The earnings might be significantly greater than anything you’d earn with Earth-side employment—based on your discipline and core skill, of course.”

“Unless I’ve got a Thinker or Artisan discipline, right?”

“You won’t need our assistance if you got one of those,” the receptionist replied. “Just let us add your registration details to the public registry, and employers will hunt you down themselves.”

“What about the luduses?”

“We’re only allowed to discuss those tied to government jobs. You’ll need to approach the appropriate agents or organizations if the question is related to the Apocalypse Arena.”

Chapter 9

“Something isn’t right here,” the registration agent said, frowning at her screen. She refreshed it multiple times, but the confusion remained on her face.

“What’s wrong?” Nil asked, peeking at the dense blocks of information.

“Our readers can’t seem to identify your discipline. What did you say it was?”

“I didn’t. Are you sure something isn’t wrong with your scanner?”

“It was fine a moment ago.” She waved another agent over. “Any idea what the hell is wrong with this thing?”

“Nothing,” her coworker replied, following a swift scan. “This happens occasionally with odd or variant core skill combinations. Just do a manual entry.” He turned his attention to span. “What’s your discipline and skill, Mr Roy?”

“Brute.” Typically, brute-discipline powers involved passive Might boosting abilities. They rarely included active abilities besides briefly enhancing themselves. It was knight disciplines that involved skills demanding timing or tactical thinking. Since Brutal Battery leaned more into Spark than Might or Finesse, Nil doubted it fell into either category. However, he didn’t want to go into detail and divulge secrets. Layla had said that he wasn’t unique but an odd Arcane Warrior variant that used natural forces instead of magic. “I thought I didn’t need to disclose my core skills. Isn’t that a privacy issue?”

“We insist registrants share them in situations like this one,” the man replied. “Most disciplines have a small set of hyper-dangerous skills, too. If our scanner fails, we need at least a demonstration.”

“I’d rather not go into details, but I’m fine showing you what I can do.”

With no monster pursuing him and his life not in imminent danger, it took Nil only a heartbeat to activate and switch between abilities. He took the spoon lying next to the agent’s cup of tea and stabbed himself with all of his strength. Nothing happened to him or the object. Then, he twisted the handle into a spiral. “I can switch between defense and strength enhancement. They can’t function simultaneously, and the transition takes a couple of seconds.”

“I haven’t seen that one before,” Nil’s agent commented. She looked up at her colleague. “We don’t get a lot of brutes with alternating or switching skills. What should I call it?”

“Thuggish Tactics,” Nil lied. “I might as well tell you. My case worker didn’t give me many options on account of my low Mind and Spark potentials.”

The scanner only determined an individual’s discipline. Attributes were treated as privileged information, just like the core skill. Nil found the limitations arbitrary and inconsistent. They claimed dangerous core skills existed but didn’t scan for them for privacy reasons. Nil wondered whether they lacked the technology or the British government was cheap. They did the bare minimum to keep the non-Summoned voters placated while profiting off the relationship with the Schema and the currency the Summoned brought in.

Nil didn’t care as long as he got to control what everyone learned about him. He swapped his Might and Spark attributes’ ratings and potential when filling out the form. It made his lie more plausible.

“Why didn’t you go for something Finesse-focused?” The agent asked. “It’s your best attribute. Something swiftness or agility-based would—”

“Stick to the script,” her male coworker told her. “That question is much too personal.”

“It’s alright,” Nil said. “I don’t mind. I had options that let me use hit-and-run tactics and one that even made me venomous. This felt like the best bet.”

“Those won’t do you much good unless you know how to fight.” The agent received another reprimand for her comment but continued without missing a beat. “The agency can recommend trainers and luduses to teach you survival and combat skills. Some even have the resources to master your discipline and skill. The latter might be challenging for you, especially given your oddities.”

The registration process took four hours. Nil had a new physical and digital ID by the time he finished. It made opening a Nexus Bank account a breeze, and he exited the building by half-past-six in the evening, seven thousand pounds richer. The conversion rate initially put a smile on Nil’s face. At the time of the exchange, the British government valued a Schema Credit at a little more than one hundred pounds. Then, they claimed two-fifths of the value in taxes, dampening his spirits.

Nil visited his apartment, packed all of his belongings, and walked to Great Portland Street Station. He took the fast Metropolitan Line train to Harrow-on-the-Hill. Once at his destination, Nil entered the first fried chicken shop he encountered—his guilty pleasure food—and occupied one of the two tables. He ate a three-piece meal with two drumsticks, a thigh, and fries.

The man behind the counter sprinkled grated cheddar over the fries for an extra pound and topped it with crappy instant gravy. It was a cheap and nostalgic meal. He hadn’t eaten anything since before the summoning and ended up purchasing the same thing again. Nil’s eyes were hungrier than his stomach. He only ate one leg and a handful of fries before giving the rest to the homeless man outside. Nil hoped the gift would earn him the privilege of petting the man’s dog. He left disappointed.

The twenty-minute uphill walk took him twenty-five with his luggage. If not for the improvement to his physique thanks to the additional unit in the Might attribute, the journey would’ve taken him even longer. It was eight in the evening, just after his family’s dinner time when he reached their home.

Udit Roy lived in a small two-bedroom bungalow with his sixteen-year-old daughter and eleven-year-old nephew in a neighborhood well beyond his means. He and the late Elizabeth Gibson-Roy had bought the house using most of their life savings just before Nil started high school. The act ensured he got it into one of the better schools in the borough but made their finances tighter. It was on the verge of falling apart, and the garden had grown into a jungle after years of no occupancy. The family got it for cheap, and they spent all of their time off refurbishing it.

Ten years later, Udit was struggling to keep up with the mortgage and the bills. Investments that appeared secure before the popularization of magitech were no longer so. As Nil walked up the driveway, he noticed the overgrown weeds, the grass left a few weeks unmowed, and the long scratch along the side of his father’s car. The twenty-year-old vehicle appeared a pothole away from being written off.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home?” His sister, Emily, asked, pulling him into a tight hug. Nil and his mother shared the same light-brown eyes and black hair. They had similar complexions, but he was a few shades lighter than her rich mocha-shaded skin. “Aren’t you eating properly, Sunny?” She poked his side. Despite her status as the younger sibling, Emily had adopted maternal qualities since their mother’s passing. Nil hated the nickname Elizabeth used for him, but now his sister kept it alive. “I can feel your ribs.”

“I’m fine, Ma,” Nil replied, kissing his sister on the forehead. “Is everything okay around here? Are you and Baba well?”

“We’re fine.” Emily raised a thick eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s not like Baba to stop gardening. He’s still getting his insulin, isn’t he?”

“Oh. Don’t worry about that. He's just been busy at work. Sam and I have exams coming up, so we’ve been lagging with chores, too. Baba is still in his study, finishing the paperwork.”

“Why? The council can’t be working him that hard, can they?”

“Rakesh Patel is retiring,” Emily answered. She stepped away from her brother and looked him up and down. The woman frowned when she noted his backpack and suitcase. “Baba wants his job.”

“Isn’t Rakesh Patel five years younger than Baba?” Nil asked. “They both should be retired now.”

“If only things were that easy.” Emily smiled. She sniffed the air around him. “I can smell that you’ve already had dinner. Let me brew us some tea, and you can tell me why you’re here. Is everything okay at work?”

“I got summoned.”

Emily froze midstep. She looked up at her older brother wide-eyed for what felt like an eternity. He held his breath, half-expecting his sister to explode at him. Instead, she looked down the hallway to the open door in the back. Soft lamp light glowed through it. “Baba, get your arse out here!” She yelled. “Our son finally did something stupid.”

When telling his family about recent events, Nil embellished details and avoided revealing how many times he had almost died. He remained truthful about the circumstances surrounding his summoning, unique discipline, and abilities. Worried about his father’s health, he concocted a colorful tale regarding the quest. Emily appeared unconvinced but said nothing.

“The Schema will give me mostly escort and protection jobs,” Nil told them. “They don’t involve fighting things but keeping important people alive. I also get an option of three quests during each summoning. So, I can always pick the least dangerous.”

“And what about cheffing?” Udit asked. “You’re a sous in a Michelin-starred kitchen. Are you just going to give that up?”

“Chef fired me after I missed work because of my summoning.” It wasn’t a complete lie. “He doesn’t want a sous chef that disappears for indeterminate periods of time every couple of months. I’ll make excellent money with the quests, though. It's enough to support myself and help you out.”

“That’s not necessary, baba,” Udit said. “Your sister and I can take care of ourselves.” He smiled at the mostly silent Sam. The little boy had stuck to Nil’s side since the moment of their reunion. “You just worry about yourself right now. I don’t care that you’re mostly taking low-combat quests. This summoning business leaves a bad taste in my mouth. The thought of my boy getting magicked away to other universes is going to ruin my sleep.”

“Do you mind if I stay here for a few days?” Nil asked. “It's just until I figure out what to do.”

“Of course,” his parents said almost in unison. His father sped away to inflate an air mattress and arrange bedding for it while his sister threw his dirty clothes in the laundry. Nil did the dishes with Sam in the meantime, feeling optimistic about his future. Then, he saw the condition of the house, its furnishings, and appliances. The money he sent his family every week wasn’t enough. Things were worse than he had guessed, and they needed more help than earnings from a mortal quest would earn him.

Chapter 10

The rising prices of materials, labor, and general goods truly sunk in when Nil got quotes on fixing up the house and replacing damaged appliances. The number of tradespeople had dwindled despite the ever-growing unemployment rates. Meanwhile, almost all decent quality white goods—fridges, washing machines, driers, ovens—were aethertech and cost an arm and a leg. The seven-thousand pounds he earned wouldn't stretch as far as he had hoped.  In fact, waiting two months until the next summon no longer felt like an option.

Nil had hoped to invest in training, help his family, and then stretch the rest over two months until Nexus demanded he take on a quest. Now, training felt out of the question, and he doubted the money would last a month if he tried to make the house better for his family.

The window in Sam and Emily's shared room had a giant crack and chip, ruining the double glazing. It wasn't too big an issue now, but they'd struggle to keep the space warm in a couple of months once winter arrived. A leak in Udit's bathroom had caused dampness to spread, and Nil saw the early signs of mold, too. The drier barely worked. Because of autumn rains, the family had to dry their clothes indoors, resulting in a mildewy smell. So, despite his father's protests, Nil spent his money on improving their living conditions. He felt guilty for not visiting in over a year. If he knew how bad things were, he would've sent more money home.

“Absolutely not!” Emily exclaimed when, after a week of staying at home, Sam brought up the possibility of pursuing a career in Apocalypse Arena. “Don't you dare bring this up around, Baba! He'll have a heart attack!”

“But he could comfortably retire,” Nil said. “Think about it, Emmy. He can finally relax, garden, do pottery, and pursue his hobby of the day. You could go to a decent private university without loans, pursue your dreams, and go into a career the Summoned won't make obsolete.”

“People die in Apocalypse Arena, Sunil! You're not going to throw your life away just to make things easier for us. Summoned life and going off on dangerous interdimensional adventures is bad enough. Don't think for a second I believed that nonsense about safe quests.”

“The Schema, Nexus, or whatever it is gave you an ability meant for throwing in the path of danger and stopping it with your body. I know you. You're going to do just that. But there is no going back now, and we can live with it. You're not going to increase your chances of dying young by fighting in Apocalypse Arena. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Mom.” Nil sighed.

Emily threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “I appreciate everything you're doing for us, and the more you want to do, but we'll find a better way.”

“Okay,” Nil said, kissing the top of his sister’s head. “We'll figure something out.”

It was a lie.

After spending a couple of nights awake, Nil had already made up his mind.

In 2007, when the Large Hadron Collider fired for the first time, and the cataclysm came, Nil was only fifteen. He, like most of the residents of the United Kingdom, survived. Fear and fervor plagued the population as the world changed. The Amazon birthed giant monsters. Hundreds of meters long sandworms stirred in the deserts. The ground split open in the Middle Eastern countries drilling for oil. Creatures of fire, earth, ash, and sand spilled forth and spread to neighboring states, killing millions. The following migrant crisis would’ve followed a war if not for the Nexus’ arrival and assistance.

Not long after the Summoned came into existence and news of them spread, criminals with enhanced physiologies and magic emerged. Nil’s parents put him in martial arts classes and basic survival training for when and if he got summoned or cornered by the new gangs led by unregistered Summoned. He didn’t take the classes seriously until Aisha passed. However, the first six years built a foundation that he refined afterward while training with men who worked as night club bouncers and security guards. Nil was as confident in his hand-to-hand fighting as he was in his cooking skills.

For a chance at success in Apocalypse Arena, Nil needed to get better at timing Brutal Battery's timings and learn to meld it with his fighting style.

Absorb was reasonably easy to use and activate. However, switching from it to Expend and controlling the output proved challenging. Only a ludus could help him overcome the two hurdles. Ludus' organized competitions also served as the staging ground for Apocalypse Arena fighters. Only after proving oneself in a ludus could one ascend to the world stage.

Unfortunately, it was expensive to join a Ludus and just as expensive to stay in one. Some gave their residents work to make up for the housing and training fees, but a quick search on Summoned forums suggested they were rare and challenging to come by. Most decent luduses only entertained candidates with recommendations if they had already ascended to the Iron Realm. Most used their Schema Credit and Arena earnings to pay the ludus fees. Eventually, sponsors found the individuals and took on the costs.

The numbers shocked and sickened Nil, but he understood. Housing, feeding, and training individuals with supernatural powers was an expensive and dangerous affair. They had the capability to cause devastating damage to property or severely hurt someone with an incorrect muscle twitch. When Emily had Nil braid her hair, he had to stop several times whenever his nose tickled, or he felt a sneeze coming on. A sudden jerk with his seven points in Might could potentially cause severe damage.

After exhausting all possible avenues, Nil called Andrew, his friend from high school. The last time they spoke, Andrew had quit a dishwashing job to deal weed full-time. Now, according to his social media profile, he worked in the scrap metal recycling industry.

“Sunny-boi!” Andrew exclaimed as soon as Nil called. He had used Sam's phone, but his old friend identified him at hello. “I thought you forgot me.”

“The man that introduced me to all my vices?” Nil laughed. “Never.”

“So? What do you need? I hope you know I quit the naughty horticultural industry some time ago.”

“I just became a Summoned, can't afford to join a ludus, and need to make money. The only legal option right now is a government job, and I'm not too keen on them.”

“Yeah. Big Brother is a miser fuck. Do you remember the old scrap metal yard near South Harrow Station?”

“Where the playground used to be?”

“Meet me there in an hour. We'll catch up with a beer and a sandwich.” Andrew paused. Nil heard bubbling. Then nothing. Followed by a slow exhale. “You can tell me your tale then. I hate catching up on the phone.”

“That's a wild fucking story,” Andrew said an hour later. He and Nil sat on lawn furniture in a scrap yard, empty beer bottles and fast food wrappers littering the ground between them. Broken power tools and several dented car doors lay around them. Andrew had insisted on a power demonstration before they talked, and the pair got carried away with their experimentation. “So, what now? Do you want to become Wildshaper Wilson?”

“Adrian Wildshaper Wilson.” Nil laughed. He remembered pretending to be the now Gold-Realm Apocalypse Arena fighter. The screens in Picadilly Circus often featured him promoting one product or another. “I miss those. Adrian ‘Wildshaper’ Wilson versus his brother, Arthur ‘Technomancer’ Wilson. Is that how you ended up with this place?”

Andrew nodded. “I had just quit my old career with bags of unspendable cash. Then Mum died, leaving me a monster inheritance. Since the Nexus had no plan of picking me, I thought I might as well have some fun playing with her Artisans' products.” He nodded at the wall of discarded Aethertech on the other side of the three inter-connected mobile homes that formed his house. “Salvaging, repairing, and reselling parts is good money. It's almost as much as I make from selling recycled scrap metal.”

“But it's not strictly legal.”

“The best things never are.” Andrew grinned. “You’re not wearing a wire, are you?”

“Of course not.” Nil waved at his shirtless torso. He had removed it from the experimentation and not put it back on after getting grease on his chest. Additional units in the Might attribute had helped him overcome genetics and develop shape and definition that a decade of resistance training had failed to achieve. “I’m just curious about what contacts you might have.”

“A good deal of the interesting aethertech is licensed, patented, or government controlled. There are some I can resell legally, but they don’t make me enough to keep up with my hobby. So, I sell to the unsavory, collectors, and like-minded.” Andrew’s eyes narrowed as he spoke. “Why, good-two-shoes Sunil Roy? What did you have in mind?”

“I was hoping you knew something about the pits and how one could go about getting themselves a paying bout,” Nil answered matter-of-factly.

“I was worried you would say that,” Andrew said, slumping back in his chair. “You’re too straight and narrow for illegal cage matches, Nil.”

“I know, Andy.” Nil sighed. “I know. But things are worse at home than I expected. Baba can’t support himself, keep paying for the house, and maintain it with two minors. Becoming a Summoned cost me a job, and it will be a while before I can take on quests with decent pay that aren’t suicide missions. The pits might be my only option.”

“Fine.” Andrew pulled a pair of scratched metal rods out of his pocket. He pulled them apart, creating a postcard-sized screen. “I thought you might want something of the sort. So, I prepared this. It has the details of how to get in contact with the organizers. I’ve sold to the company before. They’re discreet, and getting to communicate through the device will mean I vouch for you. So, don’t do anything stupid like tell your new policewoman girlfriend, alright?”

“There is nothing of the sort between us,” Nil said, glancing at Aisha’s visage. She was busy studying a still glowing aethertech machine of some sort.

“The memory banks also have recordings of a couple of months' worth of matches,” Andrew continued, ignoring the interjection. “I suggest you watch them and decide whether you really want to do this. It's brutal down there. They stop the matches before someone gets killed, but it's too late occasionally. I’ve seen one too many fighters end up disabled.”

“Thanks, Andy.” Nil accepted the device and swiped through the horrifying thumbnails. His friend had crammed a lot more into the memory banks than he claimed. “This will be a lot of help.”

“For the record, I’m against this idea. Your mum would’ve kicked my butt if I didn’t tell you so.”

“Why did we stop talking?” Nil asked, changing topics. “I don’t remember us fighting.”

“Aisha and Naomi hated each other.” Andrew flashed him a sad smile. “There was drama, and it was just easier not to get together. We just grew apart with time. Then your lady died, and mine cheated on me with a Summoned rich boy. I was too ashamed to make the first call.”

“Well, that’s all behind us now. It’s great to have you back, bro.”

Andrew tossed Nil another beer, and they drank together, reminiscing about the old days. Despite almost a decade of no contact, it felt like nothing had changed between them.

Chapter 11

“Are you sure about this?”

“Stop stalling, Baba,” Nil said. “Just hit me with all you’ve got.”

“I really don’t like this.”

“Just trust me, will you?”

Udit Roy adjusted his grip on the sledgehammer. He pulled the hammer back before putting his hips and shoulder into the swing. It struck Nil’s square over the sternum and immediately lost all momentum. It didn’t rebound, and Udit stopped in his tracks, too. The older Roy’s brow furrowed, and Nill could see his father’s engineer brain ticking.

“The wording might not specify you’re absorbing kinetic energy, but that’s just what you did,” Udit said after hitting his son again. The effort already had him panting and rubbing the small of his back. “Fascinating. The hammer didn’t bounce back. Despite the lack of follow-through and getting stopped in my tracks, I didn't face any rebound. You stole the hammer and my kinetic energy.”

“I thought so, too,” Nil said. “Layla explained that the Schema gives the Summoned an innate multiversal translation ability. Perhaps it failed to translate things right.”

“Or it goes past kinetic energy and warps the rules of physics. Hence, the Schema doesn’t want to narrow down your view by using it. You essentially broke all of Newton’s laws using Absorb.”

“So, it encompasses kinetic energy under certain conditions but also goes beyond it.”

Udit nodded, studying the hammerhead. “If it absorbed all kinetic energy, it would’ve stolen heat from the impacted surface, too. You can have a lot of fun with this.”

“Do you feel better about this whole Summoned business now?” Nil asked. “Absorb protects me from almost all physical trauma—the most common variety of attacks while I’m out on missions.”

“My son is portalling off on interdimensional jobs, which is fatal for ordinary people? I’ll never feel better about it. However, seeing what you can do will help me rest easy. Have you thought about what you’ll do for work or to fill your time earthside? I know the quests pay well, and I certainly hope you won’t use it as an excuse to slack off.”

“When have I ever slacked off, Baba?” Nil laughed. “I know that I need to join a ludus—”

“A ludus?” Udit dropped the hammer, frowning. His eyes narrowed as he took a step back from his son. “Please tell me you’re not going to do something mad like compete in Apocalypse Arena. I know it is good money, but I hear reports of talented fighters ending up crippled or dead every day.”

“A ludus isn’t just for arena training. It's a good place to meet other Summoned and learn about quests. They have infrastructure and experts who can teach fighting and survival techniques. They’re great for mastering one’s power and adapting it to one’s personal style, too. I—”

“Why does it sound like you’re reading off a brochure?” Baba didn’t appear convinced. “I know you wished to become Adrian ‘Wildshaper’ Wilson when you were younger. I certainly hope you grew out of that idiotic dream.”

“There are government luduses now, too, you know? Not all quests pay well, and some people do the minimum demanded by the Nexus. Summoned police officers, soldiers, and other national service workers live in luduses, too. I’m not saying I want to become a government employee or become an arena fighter. A ludus might help me become the best version of myself.”

“I hear they’re terribly expensive, though. Unless you do jobs for them or take on other employment, won’t they eat up most of your Schema tokens?”

“Honestly? I haven’t figured everything out yet.” Nil sighed. “I can’t afford to join a ludus right now.” The fact frustrated him since, despite days of searching and investigating, he couldn’t find any legitimate means of getting involved in anything related to Apocalypse Arena, paying fights, or any athletics without joining a ludus. “Currently, I’m waiting out the minimum wait between missions so I can make more money and get this place fixed up.”

“I don’t need or want you to do that,” Udit said. “I can manage everything just fine.”

“Baba, I love you, and with all due respect, you need to get over that nonsense. Things are falling apart in here. You’re unwell and past retirement age and have two minors to support. I can’t live with myself knowing that I have the means to make decent money and am not doing anything to support the household. Especially after the great life you and Mum gave me.”

“That was our job as your parents. We didn’t do any of that with expectations of repayment.”

“Well, this is my job as your son. Arguing will do you no good. I’m almost thirty and can do what I want.”

Udit glared at his son for a solid moment. He sighed when Nil’s gaze didn’t falter. “I know you’ve been sending Emmy money all of this time.”

“How long have you known?” Nil asked.

“When she claimed to have a National Insurance number at fourteen. No legit job under twenty brings in what you were giving her. Your sister isn’t particularly discreet when she’s on the phone, either.” Udit chuckled. He gave his son a hug before taking a seat. They stood in the garage littered with incomplete DIY projects and junk that needed fixing. A dismantled radio and two broken drawers sat on the workbench behind Udit. “Things were hard after your mother passed, and I really appreciated the help, Son. Thank you.”

“So you’re okay with all of this Summoned business?”

“Oh, hell no! However, I respect that you’re a taxpaying adult and capable of making decisions. I just worry about you ending up like that friend of yours. What was her name?” Nil’s heart sank as he guessed the subject of his father’s point. Her visage stood leaning against the garage wall, watching and listening. He hadn’t told his family about their relationship at her request. She worried chatter would get back to her family. They lived a forty-minute bus ride away, but the news spread swiftly through the Indian and especially the Bengali community. “That’s right. Aisha. She was a lovely girl, and I know you had a bit of PTSD after her passing. Just thinking about what her parents went through gives me—”

“Well, I picked Brutal Battery, so things like that will never happen again around me,” Nil told his father. “I nor anyone around me will end up like that. Now, do you want to watch me use Expend? I would really like to break some of these old projects you wasted my Saturdays on but never finished.”

“Fine.” Udit sighed. “Show me what you can do.”

Nil targeted an old cannibalized dining table. They had removed the middle rectangular sections and only used the bordering semicircles. One half served as the base. Meanwhile,  the table legs held up the other half of the circle. It was rough but solid. Udit and his son were supposed to sand it together, but things always got in the way. Then, they moved on to something else.

An axe kick while empowering his movements with Expend turned the half-finished shoe rack into splinters. Next, Nil targeted a sideboard he had twisted his ankle unloading. His parents bought it from a charity store before his mother got sick. The drawers and doors needed fixing. Udit had tinkered with the hinges and handles but never found adequate replacements. They were supposed to sand and polish it, too. Father and son never got to it. A haymaker took care of it. Then, Nil broke the rest into smaller pieces so that the weekly rubbish truck would haul it away.

“Aren’t you just using half the ability?” Udit asked, rereading the description Nil had written out for him. “It looks like you’re only enhancing your movements and not releasing any energy through touch.”

“That’s difficult to do without blowing my load,” Nil answered.

“Wording,” Udit stated sternly.

“Wording.” Both men burst out laughing when Nil repeated the word. “Controlling how much energy I drain while empowering my movements is hard enough. I tried it again while hanging out with Andrew, and it’s impossible not to empty the battery in a flash. The aftermath isn’t particularly comfortable either.”

“So what is it like? An explosion.”

“Not quite. Perhaps it’s easier to show than tell.”

“Are you sure?” Udit frowned. “I don’t want you getting hurt showing things off.”

“It’s fine. I just need to focus on the point of Expend and keep a stopper on the balloon.”

“Stopper on the balloon?”

“It’s how I imagine it,” Nil explained. “Absorb inflates the balloon, and Expend deflates it. I just have to keep my fingers on the mouth so I can pinch off the balloon when I’m done using its contents. If I’m too slow, I lose more than I intend. When Expending with touch alone, the pinch—”

“That’s enough pinches and balloons. Just show me without destroying the house—” Udit paused, glancing between his son and the wall. “—or yourself, of course.”

The battery was still mostly full from the antics at Andrew’s scrap yard. So, Nil didn’t worry about his energy stores. However, he had concerns regarding damaging his family home. So, he targeted an old apothecary table. Nil pressed his finger against its narrow side, ensuring he pointed away from the house and not at his father’s car. He took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly before releasing the balloon’s mouth only for half a second.

Even though Nil tried to restrain the released energy, the balloon deflated to half its size. His fingertip burned, and it punched through the thick wood. Several cracks and miniature explosions sounded from within the apothecary table. Then, an eyeball section of the opposite side blew out. The woody shrapnel flew several feet. A couple made it halfway across the driveway.

“Damn that stings.” Nil winced, retrieving his finger and sucking on the tip.

Udit inspected the apothecary table closely. The energy had blown through the entire length of the table, cutting a neat circle through the first couple of drawers. The shape lost its uniformity around two feet into the chest-like piece of furniture. Meanwhile, the exit hole was an uneven oval with rough edges. Cracks surrounded the holes furthest from the entry point. They spiderwebbed through the wound.

“That could wreck someone’s head,” Udit commented. He grabbed his son’s hand and studied the burnt fingertip. The skin had charred around the point of contact. Concentrating the energy through such a minute point appeared to have significantly increased the damage. “Yeah. It's best if you don’t use it until you understand the ability and have better control of it.”

“That was the idea. It feels like a last-ditch move.”

“What about recoil? Could you use it to jump a long distance or increase the length of your strides?”

“I’m not sure,” Nil answered. “Layla, my Nexus caseworker, says intent has a lot to do with how these powers function. Perhaps my unwillingness to deal with recoil has something to do with the overheating and burns. I’ll get back to you on that once I get better.”

Father and son chatted and tested Brutal Battery’s abilities for several hours. It was Sunday, but Udit still had a lot of work to do. Nil took care of the man’s chores before helping his sister and cousin with theirs. Udit’s poor health, aches and pains, and other issues became more apparent as the day went on. So, once Nil got a moment away from everyone, he checked the data Andrew had given him and finally called the contact. A short conversation later, he had a power demonstration and possible fight lined up.

Nil had no intention of becoming Adrian Wilson. Wildshape wasn’t just one of the few Gold Realm fighters in Great Britain. He had also opened a chain of luduses and equipped them with devices from Arthurtech—owned by his brother, Arthur ‘Technomancer’ Wilson. The pair had found fame and fortune, and their influence had played a significant role in Summoned rights and privileges. Nil lacked the tenacity and opportunities to rise to the same level as them. He only wanted to do well enough to better provide for his family.