CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Septimus Preach missed his master terribly. This was not a particularly uncommon state of affairs. Ever since his master set off to explore the greater cosmos with that devious, conniving, master stealing harlot, he’d been left, all alone, to oversee his master’s path trials. A rather mind numbing post, considering no one had actually seen fit to take the shaper’s path—despite it clearly being superior—in, oh… what was it now? Two…? Three hundred millennia? You know, it was so hard to keep track.

  In all that time, he hadn’t had much in the way of company. Well, apart from an abandoned deck of cards he’d found collecting dust in an old broom closet, which he’d since grown to consider a stalwart companion. It was a lonely existence, to be sure, though on the bright side, he had gotten rather good at solitaire.

  Regardless, you can imagine his surprise and delight upon sensing the arrival of a potential junior in the grand hall—a grand reception area which he’d given his own, unique brand of artistic flair over the centuries.

  One who may very well prove themselves a fellow Shaper’s disciple.

  A friend, a companion, a comrade in arms! A brother in Shaper, that they might revel together, maybe even for days at a time, in the glorious worship of his divine excellence. Of course, he’d attempted to convey the masters unrivaled distinction from the very beginning, to avoid any awkward misunderstandings down the line. Unfortunately, he’d been so enraptured while singing the master’s high praises, that he’d failed to notice just who he was speaking to.

  “A… baby…?” he closed his eyes, shook his head, pinched his cheeks, then opened them again. The baby was still there. “T-this…? This can’t be! There has to have been some sort of mistake!”

  And yet the master did not make mistakes! If the baby was here, it could only have been by the masters will! And yet he still could not fathom it! What would the master stand to gain from bequeathing a portion of his power to a mere infant? It made no sense! Ugh! What a terrible conundrum! He spun, pinning the infant to the ground with a fierce glare.

  “You! Baby! Tell me! From where do you hail, and how do you come to be here?”

  There was no response. The child merely looked up at him with those too large eyes.

  “Silent treatment eh? Well! Two can play at that game!”

  Septimus took in a deep inhale and held his breath. Seconds ticked by. Then seconds turned to minutes. His face growing progressively redder as time went on. He trembled. Shut his eyes. Tried to hold on for just a moment longer, but it was no use.

  “Puuuaaah!” he gasped. “You,” gasp. “Are formidable,” gasp. “I’ll give you that!” he panted. “Like a steel trap! Though don’t think that means you’ve won!”

  Curse take him, he’s won!

  “I have ways of getting the information out of you!”

  How in Shapers name am I supposed to get the information out of him?!

  “If you don’t tell me, you’re going to regret it!”

  Maybe if I bluff hard enough he’ll spill the beans!

  “On the count of three! One… Two…! Thhhree…!

  Argh! How is he so calm! This kid isn’t normal!

  “Alright fine! You win! Keep your accursed secrets! I never even cared to begin with.”

  I’ve never cared about anything more in my life!

  +++

  Richard thought he was beginning to understand the boy in the statues on an intrinsic level. If his growing hunch was to be believed, this man was a lot like Alice in a hyper fixated, ultra possessive sort of way, only somehow cranked all the way to eleven.

  “Ugh! Fine, well, let’s have it! You’re here to take the initiation trial, yes? Well then, come along!” the man said, spinning on his heels and marching across the massive marble space. “Not that there’s even the smallest chance you’ll succeed, mind, but I suppose it isn’t my place to bar you from entry. You’ll manage that all by yourself when you fail spectacularl- wha-?!”

  He finally noticed that Richard was not following.

  “What are you still doing back there? Are you here to take the trial or not?”

  Richard said nothing. He couldn’t have managed more than a strained gurgle anyway, and that fact was far too demeaning to reveal in the presence of company. Even this company. The man stalked back towards him, hair trailing behind like a golden banner.

  “Well?!” he came to a halt bare inches away, standing over him with arms akimbo, heels rapping sharply on the stone tiles. “What’s the hold up here Mr.?”

  Richard looked up at the man, looked down at his tiny baby legs, kicked them helplessly a couple of times, then looked back up in exasperation. The man, blushed.

  “Oh. Well, if you couldn’t walk then you should have just said so from the beginning! Instead of making me walk up and down the hall like a fool. Honestly lord, the lengths I go to…”

  Reaching down, the man gingerly grabbed him about the armpits, holding him out at arms length as if Richard was contagious and the man was afraid of catching something. A pained grimace was fixed on the man’s pretty features.

  “Well, right this way I suppose,” he sighed, as if he were being forced to bear the weight of the world.

  As they walked, or rather, as one of them walked and the other was carried, he was given a better vantage of the various… “art” pieces on display.

  Previously unseen tapestries, paintings, and, of course, the aforementioned statues filled his vision. The vast majority were, effectively, a whole bunch more of the same. However, he stopped actively seeking them out when the artworks began to take on more… romantic connotations. Richard looked at the man sidelong, then where the man’s hands pinched his armpits, suddenly unsure whether he wanted to be as close to the creeper as he already was.

  They passed down one grand hallway after another, each more opulent and questionably decorated then the last. Décor aside, it was immediately apparent that whoever owned this megastructure was incredibly wealthy, the waves of mana radiating off of every material surface alone was testament to that. The simple fact he could feel them so clearly, despite his abysmal talent, even more so. It left him excited thinking what all he had to gain from this path moving forward.

  “And, here we are!”

  The man came to a stop before a large stretch of nondescript wall, what looked like nothing so much as a dead end. Richard looked at the man dubiously.

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  “Oh, don’t give me that look! I was in the middle of refurbishing and- oh, what am I saying, I don’t need to explain myself to you. Here’s where you’ll choose the difficulty of your trial. You’ll enter through a door here, fail miserably, and then be transported back to whatever hovel you crawled out of, never to return.”

  Richard looked at the blank wall. Looked at the man. Blank wall, then man. Blank wall. Man. The man rolled his eyes.

  “Here! See?!”

  The man first shifted his grip so that he was holding Richard by the nape of his pajamas, then, he began to snap his fingers, and with every snap a different door would appear.

  “Hardest. Very hard. Hard. Medium Hard. Normal. Very Normal. Easy. Effortless.”

  The presentation of each door ranging from the very first: a fiery gateway into the bowels of the underworld, wrought out of soot smeared metal, covered in massive skulls, and embossed with the screaming faces of the damned. The entirety of the three story tall double doors wrapped in massive chains that bucked and strained—struggling to contain whatever was on the other side.

  …to the one they were looking at now.

  “But, of course, you needn’t worry your simple little head about those other scary difficulties. I believe this one should suffice quite nicely! It’s far more… up your alley. Appropriate, shall we say?”

  Staring at the miniature door—looking like a rainbow had barfed up the contents of its stomach all over the ironbound planks, and the sweet smell of beatific bile had summoned up all the fanciful creatures of fairy land—only one thought readily came to mind.

  I… refuse…!

  “Now, off you go!”

  The man set him down carefully, then rose, and gently nudged him forward with the polished toe of his boot.

  “Go on, don’t be afraid! I know the horned horsey’s can be very frightening for a child your age, but they’re very friendly, I can assure you!”

  Ever so slowly, Richard turned his bulbous head up towards the smiling man—indignation giving him strength he’d never known he possessed. There must have been something in his expression in that moment, because in the next, the smug smile slipped from the man’s features. Now looking more than a little bit disturbed, the man flicked his gaze back up to the door.

  “Not a fan of the unicorns? W-well I suppose we could up the ante a little.”

  The man snapped his fingers. Out of his periphery, he saw that the door had changed from a seven year old girl’s dream door, to a bright red door covered in ivy, like you might expect to see on a mysterious cottage in the woods.

  “How’s that?!” the man crowed triumphantly.

  Richards gaze never wavered. His smile slipped.

  “Alright, you want more? I’ll give you more! How about this?”

  Snap. Not even his eye lids twitched. The man began to perspire. Another hesitant snap.

  “This…?”

  Silence. Again. Snap…

  “Okay, but surely this is more than acceptable!”

  Not a word. Not a single word. Snap…

  “You can’t really expect me to-!”

  Richard raised a trembling hand towards the door, pointer finger lifted arduously, his eyes never leaving the man’s. He slumped, defeated.

  “Oh, fine! Have it your way! It’s your funeral.”

  With a wave of his hand, the demonic portal from before appeared, towering over him and covered in blue flame. Richard finally let a smile onto his face.

  ?-|—PATH OF THE SHAPER INITIATION TRIAL—|-?

  ?[Difficulty: Impossible]?

  “Happy?! Now, run along to your death, if that really is your fixation. Just don’t think I’ll be there to save you when you realize you’ve gotten yourself in way over your head!”

  And so saying, the man turned to leave. Richard grabbed the man by the pant leg. The man spun on his heel.

  “What now?!”

  Richard, for his part, once more kicked his feet helplessly. Pointed at the door, then at the man, and then finally at himself—fighting the urge to roll his eyes. The man blushed a second time.

  “Yes! Right well… whatever!”

  The man once more picked him up gingerly.

  “Shaper preserve me…”

  And so, without any fanfare, the man kicked open the massive doors, casually tossed Richard’s infant body inside, and let the massive things slam shut with a final…

  “Good luck! Shaper knows you’re going to need it…”

  +++

  The first thing he saw upon opening his eyes was a system screen.

  Infirmity Detected. Accessibility Protocols Engaged.

  The next thing he knew, a newfound sense had blossomed in his mind. With a thought, he lifted himself up off the polished stone floor he’d been resting on, feeling like he were looking down at himself from a third person point of view, while also looking through his own eyes simultaneously. It was a bizarre sensation that should’ve been far more disorienting than it actually was.

  Experimenting with this newfound sense and the level of control it gave him, he floated his body around what he only now recognized to be a rather large workshop—feeling like he were cupping himself in his own hands and shifting them to move.

  It was a very odd sensation.

  Finally feeling like he had a handle on this “Accessibility Protocol” he turned his attention back to his environment once more. Giving it a closer look, he could Immediately tell that his initial impression wasn’t necessarily correct. The place he now found himself in—akin to a large open concept work space the size and shape of a small warehouse, with long wooden tables, high, clerestory windows, and tall shelves lining the walls—was nothing more than the cheap skeleton of a workshop. Entirely devoid of tools, personnel, or materials.

  As if summoned by his thoughts, a system prompt appeared.

  Select your specialty.

  Before him emerged a screen listing a range of very specialized crafting professions. From Armor Smith, to Locksmith, to Potter, the list went on. Richard stopped scrolling when he reached his own profession, letting out a quiet sigh of relief at its inclusion.

  Do you wish to select ?[Talisman Artificer]? as your specialty?

  YES/NO

  Richard thought, yes, and in the next moment the workshop around him changed. Gone was the soulless, barebones, hollow shell of a workspace. And in its place emerged the workshop he’d never dared to dream of. Brushes of every shape and size now covered the tables—resting in their own unique stands. Dried and bottled mana dense reagents lined the shelves, most of which he recognized, though there were a choice few he did not. While paper, reams upon reams of perfect off-white paper, practically took up every other inch of space.

  The nostalgic smell of mana-treated parchment and freshly ground ink nearly enough to bring him to tears.

  God, how he’d missed this.

  TRIAL OBJECTIVE.

  ?[IMPOSSIBLE DIFFICULTY]?

  You have ten days to prepare for a sequential monster wave type event. With each wave expanding upon the previous waves’ difficulty.

  What you do to prepare yourself in that time is entirely up to you. Just know that, after the ten days are up and you leave this workshop, you will be unable to return. Any defense you mount from there on out will be entirely dependent on what you prepare in advance these next ten days.

  Prepare wisely. Prepare appropriately. Prepare. Prepare. Prepare.

  That is all. I would wish you, “the best of luck,” but if you’ve prepared properly, you will not need it.

  Yours truly,

  Shaper.

  Richard stared at the trial objective for several long seconds, more specifically at those last few lines.

  Prepare prepare prepare, huh? I can’t help but admire the similarities. Less prepared is more dead, after all. Shaper…? Shaper… why does that sound so familiar…? Hmm. No matter.

  Unable to make the connection, if a connection there even was, Richard returned his gaze to the bountiful workshop, and all the myriad possibilities it represented. Fleeting though it may have been, in that brief instant, when he’d been allowed a glimpse of the Shaper Path and subsequently felt it’s aura, he’d been sure it was something akin to a Hybrid Class—a class that took on aspects of both a combat, and profession class.

  An extremely rare combination he’d only seen a handful of times in his past timeline.

  It was because of that connection that he’d dared to risk the highest level difficulty for this trial. Following a hunch that it wouldn’t simply throw him into the meat grinder immediately, but instead give him, well, give him time to prepare. Thankfully, he’d been right on all counts. And that really only meant one thing.

  He had a chance here. A chance to do something very few people have ever managed—each and every one of them going on to dominate the top spots of the global ladder. Obtain a Rare Class as his very first class selection. And what’s more, if he played his cards right, maybe even snag himself a Hybrid Class at that—one of the most versatile combinations out there.

  Now if only…

  Oh, that’s right. I almost forgot. Don’t worry about mana in this place. I hooked it up so that it’s basically on tap. For someone of your level—and I’m just guessing here, but you probably arrived from a tutorial right?—it should essentially be infinite.

  Happy crafting.

  Shaper.

  The slow smirk he’d been keeping at bay suddenly blossomed into a beaming smile.

  Now that’s more like it! Rare Hybrid Class, here I come.