Leonidas stepped into Ceruviel’s office casually, his hands in the pockets of a pair of comfortable sweatpants, which were paired with a short-sleeved black t-shirt. His eyes scanned the interior idly and took in the many bookshelves, random artefacts, and items of note that populated his mentor’s little sanctuary within the east wing of her expansive mansion home.

  “I take it you enjoyed your ablutions?” the Dusk-Lord herself said from behind her desk, finally looking up toward him with a faintly amused expression.

  “I did,” Leonidas confirmed with a nod, stepping further into the office and blowing a strand of damp hair from his eyes. “It keeps amazing me how much superior magitech is to our old way of doing things.”

  “There are very few luxuries which you cannot acquire for the right amount of Aetherium, Achilles,” Ceruviel said with a wry look. “Remember that. It will serve you in the future.”

  “I will,” he promised, while removing his hands from his pockets and assuming a calm parade rest. It felt proper, somehow, to be in her presence that way. “I see you’re still insisting on practicing English with me.”

  “It will be important one day, I‘m sure,” Ceruviel said confidently and set down the pen she had been writing with. “But I didn’t call you here for talk of bathing or language. You said you had something important to tell me after Uriel left. I dislike being kept in the dark, though the two hours you asked for to refresh yourself were, admittedly, well-earned.”

  “And appreciated, Ceruviel,” he said with a genuine smile. “I needed to feel human again, as the saying goes. Especially after discussing my revelations about Elatra with you.”

  “Mm,” she said, bridging her fingers the same way she had when they’d first met, and peering at him over her hands. “Administrators, a curated world, and living people translocated for your experience. It certainly adds a layer of complication to everything, though I hope you will not let it ruin your future in the here and now.

  “I won’t,” he confirmed wryly, while shaking his head. “Any more than I won’t forget to keep training to get that third Psionic ability for the ability fusion. I’m still irritated I missed it in the Arena.”

  “None of us saw the tribulation coming in that manner, Achilles. There is no point cursing over it. You can earn it during your travels with Aylar,” Ceruviel said, and then eyed him critically. “I take it you know I am due to report to the Moonstone Keep take over the watch, soon?”

  “I do,” Leonidas confirmed, and glanced around the office. “So I won’t waste your time. Is there someplace we can go that me using magic won’t risk damaging, er, something important?”

  Ceruviel stared at him for a moment, snorted, and then gestured for him to follow as she rose, attired in full armor still, as was her wont, and marched toward the back of the massive office. Her hand raised, and Leonidas’ Affinity picked up on the Psi she used to rapidly unweave a series of psionic wards upon what appeared to be a normal section of wall.

  A moment later, it rippled with lavender light, and then slid backward and to the side—revealing a hidden chamber beyond.

  Leonidas followed Ceruviel within when she entered, and let out a low whistle. He had spent all of his time in the mansion either in the meditation rooms, arena, his quarters, or the solar; he’d never had the time during his hell-week of training to actually explore his mentor’s home. The chamber she led him to was a large circular construction, with a domed ceiling and arcane lamps burning a soothing, warm gold along the walls.

  “Is this a meditation chamber?” he asked the Duchess while looking around, and approaching one of the walls to feel the shallow grooves of mana conduits carved into the stone. It was artfully done, not with a blade, but with something more precise. Perhaps Ceruviel had used her Psi to forge the lines; it would fit with her need for perfectionism.

  “It is many things, Achilles, but primarily that,” Ceruviel affirmed while watching his observations. “You know, Uriel was in quite a tizzy about everything when he left.”

  “A tizzy?” Leonidas asked with an unveiled look of genuine amusement.

  “I find the word titillating,” Ceruviel said shamelessly, and smirked back. “Yes, a tizzy. He seemed profoundly disturbed by the revelations you shared, even though he never said it to you. I believe my old friend may be reconsidering everything he thought he knew about the process of a System Integration, and evaluating the strategic and tactical benefits of your presence, as well as the liabilities.”

  “I suppose having a System-ordained Cataclysm wandering around would make anyone uncertain,” Leonidas said in empathetic understanding.

  “No, I think he was less worried about that and more considering the possibility of your use as a guardian for Dawnhaven.”

  “What?” Leonidas queried in amused disbelief. “That doesn’t fit at all with—”

  “I know,” Ceruviel cut in calmly, “but you do not know Uriel. That male—ah, rather, man—is so engrossed in his duty that he approaches everything from that lens. He has always been that way. In this case, it is to our advantage, yours specifically. If Uriel believes you can be genuinely invaluable to the colony’s security, he will actively protect you.”

  “And you think he’ll reach that conclusion?” he asked skeptically.

  “I think he knows that trying to be rid of you is harder than trying to harness you, given my involvement, yes,” Ceruviel said with pristine confidence and a look of self-satisfaction. “If you aid Aylar in her Rite of Ascension, I believe it will cement a favorable image of you within Uriel’s mind, and that, my Squire, is where you will find the unifying thread you need to become King.”

  “Assuming Aylar will even have me. We may end up having no romantic involvement at all, Ceruviel. You can’t just engineer attraction and—”

  “She has already imagined you on top of her, Leonidas, and I am hardly ignorant of your own imaginings of her naked,” Ceruviel said with such brutal honesty it made him freeze. “Thus far, her thoughts have been the untempered imagination of a virginal Princess reading too many love stories, especially Terran ones, that she thinks no one knows of. Thankfully, Mithrander keeps me well-informed. He served the Heroine-Queen before he did Aylar, and he and I have a long-standing relationship when it comes to watching over the Princess-Royal.”

  “You’re completely fucking incorrigible sometimes, you know that? You’re supposed to be three centuries old, for Christ’s sake.”

  “I’m an Elf, Leonidas, and a Sixth Tier Cultivator. I will live for many more centuries yet. You could probably consider me the equivalent of my mid-thirties, by your estimations.”

  “Well, you certainly don’t look decrepit, true enough, you old perver—”

  A lash of psionic power clipped his ear, and Leonidas swore.

  “Careful now,” Ceruviel said, though her voice held no real anger.

  “Jesus! Okay, sorry,” he grumbled while rubbing his ear, which he knew would rapidly heal, and turning to face her. “Anyway, we got sidetracked. I called you in here for a reason.”

  “Yes, I have declined to probe your mind out of respect for our arrangement, but I admit to some measure of keen interest as to the point of this.”

  “Well, first off, I need your advice: my Sword and Armor have both said they’re ready to be evolved, I have Skill Purchase points, and I have four Attribute points to distribute. I have no idea how to share my [Profile], so I can just tell you my—”

  “Tell the System you want to enable [Information Sharing], and pour your Intent into allowing me to see your [Profile]. The sharing will last until verbally cancelled, and it is not something you should ever—and I do mean ever—do lightly. This is typically something reserved for parents and their children, close siblings, sworn allies, or married couples. In your case, especially, you should be extremely cautious.”

  Leonidas lifted his hands in mock surrender at her barrage of caution and smiled wryly despite himself. “I get it. I’m not about to be a moron, Ceruviel. I already figured out that my [Profile] would be problematic.”

  “The Cataclysm designation?”

  “Well, partially. You’ll see…”

  Leonidas brought up his [Profile] a moment later with an utterance of “Character Sheet” and then looked at Ceruviel, squinting in focus subconsciously and pouring his Intent into allowing her, specifically, to see his information before speaking again: “I want to enable [Information Sharing] with Ceruviel Latherian, my Mentor.”

  A moment of silence followed, and then a kind of tension Leonidas had not realized had existed was released, and Ceruviel’s eyes widened as a projection of his [Profile] appeared in front of her, visible to his eyes as well. Leonidas raised his eyebrows and walked forward, scooting around to peer over the shorter Duchess’s shoulder as she took in his information.

  “Hey, that’s pretty coo—”

  “Your screens are red?” she demanded.

  “I—Well, yeah? I told you it was going to be weird.”

  “Divines of Altera, you must never share this with someone you do not trust with your life. Red screens! Society would have apoplexy. It would be worse than when you revealed your [Knight Oath] and underwent your Tribulation. Magnitudes worse. Thank the Heavens you haven’t shared this with anyone!”

  “...that bad, huh?”

  “Leonidas,” Ceruviel said while turning to him, her lavender eyes intent enough that they faintly glowed, “different screens only appear when encountering one thing: Transcendant Mythicals, those being apex Monster-King level manabeasts. Even then, those screens, compared to the feeling of this one, are like pale imitations. The closest I’ve ever experienced was Sinalthria’s mother, and she was an Apex Red Leviathan!”

  “So… keep it secret,” he said succintly.

  “As the fucking grave, boy.”

  “Noted,” he said seriously, and then gestured. “Have you had a chance to read it yet?”

  “I am about to. I was more focused on the color. Let me see what we have here…”

  Ceruviel’s voice trailed off when she fully focused on the actual information, and then she went very still seconds later, staring at a very, very specific part of his [Profile] that seemed to have captured her. Her right hand rose, slowly, and reached out as if to touch the screen—fore and middle fingers brushing along the word ‘Archon’ outlined in imperial purple.

  Leonidas watched her in quiet satisfaction, and then blinked in surprise when her hands rose to her face, and she wiped tears from her eyes.

  That was unexpected.

  “Ceruviel?” he asked carefully.

  “Oh, you beautiful, foolish boy,” the woman said quietly, while still brushing away the tears. “You have no idea what this means to me. I promised him. I promised my Master I would not let our Order die, and this? This is proof, Leonidas. I did it. I did it!” she said with a happy, teary laugh. “Oh, Alurien, I did it. I fucking did it! I have an Archon apprentice!”

  “Yeah, I thought as much,” he said with only half-sincere disappointment. “I’d hoped things about the internal hierarchy would change, given it’s just the two of us.”

  “Traditions exist for a reason, Leonidas, even if I hate most of them,” Ceruviel said while wiping the last of her tears and taking a steadying breath. “You have achieved the first and one of the hardest hurdles in gaining the System’s recognition, but your path will not stop there. Remember: Archon is more than just a class; it’s a calling. You remember the next step?”

  “Class Evolution,” he affirmed with a nod and a faint feeling of satisfaction. Sure, being ‘the Squire’ sucked to some degree, but he was glad for the determination and animation that seemed to fill Ceruviel. “I need to earn the higher tiers of classification, all the way to Transcendant.”

  “The class name may stay the same or morph to match your growth, but what matters is the quality. You had a Unique Class before?”

  “Psiarch,” he agreed. “I thought it was strange to downgrade from Psiarch to Archon, but—”

  “You didn’t,” Ceruviel said with full confidence. “Unique does not always mean better. You could have the unique ability to fly by the power of farts, but it wouldn’t make you stronger than a Master Elementalist. Unique simply means it was crafted to be suitable, not that it was crafted to be perfect. It is a common and dangerous misconception. Some Unique things are powerful, such as this ‘Terran Forerunner’ title here, or your ‘Terran Cataclysm’ trait, but not everything is.”

  “I’ll remember that,” he said honestly, and then gestured to the sheet. “So, that all aside, what do you think? Where should I invest the points?”

  Ceruviel eyed him for a moment, as if to make sure he had listened, and then re-examined the sheet. Another smile touched her lips at seeing ‘Archon’, and then she reached up and calmly put her finger on his Intelligence attribute. “Here.”

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  “Intelligence?” he asked immediately. “Why that one?”

  “Because you’re an idiot,” she answered dryly, and then continued. “But also because it will increase your mana pool and allow you to process and recall information faster. The days ahead will not be solely the arena of martial prowess, and higher Intelligence will translate to a greater capacity for learning and application of that learning. You will need that, Achilles. It will be more important than you know, with the chaos that is coming for us.”

  “But the Nobles won’t act against us openly after what—”

  “You have a lot to learn about the Haelfenn, Achilles,” Ceruviel cut in with a grim tone. “Did you forget? All the repercussions are built around identifying the guilty parties, and beyond that, you think force of arms is the only weapon they’ll use? You’re a virile young man. They’ll send women beautiful enough to jelly your spine and attempt to coerce you into all kinds of compromising arrangements, even create a scandal to force you to wed them to protect their virtue. This skill here—”

  She affected a pretense of tapping ‘Honor Duel’.

  “—will be crucial. Honor Duel has several hidden requirements and conditions, one of which being that challenging those a Tier below you, without System-accepted provocation, can immediately damage your Archetype based on the nature of your [Knight Oath]. I’ll focus on helping you understand how your Aspect aligns with your Archetype in the days leading up to your departure to aid Aylar, but you must understand this: the colony you arrived in is not the one you’ll exist in now. Not after today.”

  “Alright,” he agreed simply, with no real reason to argue, and mentally assigned the 4 Attribute Points. The moment he did, he felt the subtle increase in his mana pool, and a greater clarity of mind came to him—as if he had been viewing the world through a slightly off-kilter viewpoint. Clarity settled on him like a comforting cloak, and Leonidas let out a sigh. Even his mind seemed… calmer.

  “Good choice,” he murmured. “Even my traumas seem easier to manage, though I thought Willpower would be the main influence on that.”

  “Willpower has its place with those things, but more important is your capacity for rational assessment. Trauma is often an emotional response, and the opposite of emotion—at least in terms of management—is reason. Intelligence is what affects that, not Willpower. In unison, that will be how you conquer your demons in truth—not external magic, and certainly not something as ambiguous and time-intensive as therapy.”

  “I suppose I’ll need to invest more points into Intelligence, then,” he surmised.

  “Alongside Charisma,” she said affirmatively. “You will need both at 30 before tier Two. Trust me.”

  “Is that even possible? I only gain two points per level.”

  “Study and Social Activity, Achilles. We will explore it more when I return from the Watch.”

  Leonidas nodded in acceptance of her logic and then snapped his fingers in remembrance.

  “And on the note of things I need to learn, my Sword and Armor have alerted me they’re ready to be evolved. How do I do that?”

  Ceruviel glanced over his sheet, nodded, and then looked up at him. “It’s Archon resonance. They’ll be awakening to your new Class. Good. The steps are simple: go to the middle of the chamber, summon your armor and sword, and pull in as much Mana and Psi as you can manage. Say you are beginning your Equipment Evolution, and then recite your [Knight Oath] until the System tells you you are done. You’ll see the rest.”

  Leonidas nodded and walked to the middle of the room, summoning his [Archon’s Psiblade] and [Archon’s Warplate], helmet included, with practiced ease, and feeling the weight of both settle comfortably into his grip and onto his body, respectively. “I assume I’m going to like this result?” he asked with faint amusement.

  “It is probably the most exciting part of becoming an Archon, yes,” Ceruviel agreed. “Most Archons don’t manage this until the second or third Tier. You did well.”

  “I had a good teacher,” he said with a feeling of amusement, and then sent his awareness down into his dantian to find his [Cataclysm Core], harmonizing with his own destructive Mana at the same time as he summoned the ribbons of his Psi from within that same churning mass. The sheer density of both his Mana and Psi was incredible compared to before his Tribulation, and more than that, his body’s ability to withstand the Cataclysm Mana was greatly enhanced.

  Instead of agonizing pain, the discomfort he felt in his channels was closer to a first-degree burn; sharp, but not searing. Compared to how it felt as if his body was being devoured from the inside initially, it was quite the step up—plus, the pain kept him alert.

  “System, please begin my Equipment Evolution for both the [Archon’s Psiblade] and [Archon’s Warplate].

  A chime of confirmation followed his words, and Leonidas staggered a moment later when every iota of Mana and Psi flowed into his sword and warplate equally, drained from him in a manageable but consistent flow. Thanks to the measured pace of the consumption alone, he managed to ‘open the tap’, as it were, to reignite the tidal flow of energy. His resource meters started dropping steadily when he flicked on his HUD with a twitch of Intent, and Leonidas shook his head in disbelief as he looked down at himself.

  “Whoa,” he said before looking back to Ceruviel. “They’re draining me dry.”

  “You will be left with dregs afterward, but the System would not alert you until you were ready,” she assured him calmly. “The equipment may leave your reserves on the cusp of complete emptiness, but the result will be very worth it.”

  “How long does it take?”

  “How much time remains until your reserves are drained?”

  “Maybe five minutes.”

  “There is your answer,” she said wryly, and went back to reading his [Profile].

  “What are you looking for?” Leonidas asked curiously.

  “I’m examining the individual descriptors for everything you have, and trying to find oddities, hidden messages, or deviations. Your experience with the System is limited; mine is not, and this is faster than asking you to read everything to me. If I find anything, I’ll inform you. It may save your life.”

  Leonidas blinked and then smiled to himself.

  “Thank you, Ceruviel.”

  “Mmhm,” she said distractedly, while focusing on her work.

  Leonidas returned to his task after Ceruviel gave her assurance, his eyes closing as he let himself feel the power surging into his weapon and armor. It felt less like a one-sided transaction, he realized after several moments’ consideration, and more like an exchange. As he worked, he spoke softly, repeating his [Knight Oath] under his breath like a mantra. It almost felt as if his warplate was drinking that in as well, and shaping itself alongside the words of the vow. The equipment was taking his power, yes, but it was also deferring to him to shape it through will—to use his subconscious needs to alter its form, its contours, and its tempering to suit his preferred manner of war.

  It was symbiotic, not parasitic. The thought was heartening and reassuring.

  It was as if his equipment wanted to be as useful to him as possible.

  Leonidas felt the changes as they happened: his warplate thickening and becoming more dense, his bastard sword broadening and reinforcing its own core, and the mold of the armor correcting for growth and size while maintaining a smooth, second-skin level fit over his frame. Of all the things he’d gained since returning to Earth—Terra, he mentally corrected—after Elatra, the equipment was probably the coolest.

  It appealed to some small, childish part of himself that had never forgotten the wonder of comic books and superhero stories.

  Leonidas opened his eyes the moment he felt the process nearing completion, and when it concluded, a pair of System Screens appeared before him in perfect unison.

  ARCHON’S PSIBLADE

  [Quality]: Rare → Epic

  [Requirement]: 100% Synergy, 100 Psi

  [Effect 1]: Reduces the cost of all Psi Abilities by 25%

  [Effect 2]: Leeches 5 Psi from eligible enemies on hit

  [Effect 3]: [Locked]

  [Description]: This Psiblade has fully Awoken to your call and has evolved from its Dormant state. Through trials and tribulations, it has hearkened to the call of your Mind and has avowed its loyalty. As a result, the dormant powers of this Psiblade have been partially unlocked. Future growth will boost existing effects and unlock new ones for your use.

  ARCHON’S WARPLATE

  [Quality]: Rare → Epic

  [Requirement]: 100% Synergy, 100 Psi

  [Effect 1]: Amplifies defensive Psi abilities by 25%

  [Effect 2]: Restores 5 Psi per second for 10 Mana per second

  [Effect 3 (Amplifier)]: Amplifies Psi Potency by 25%

  [Description]: This Warplate has fully Awoken to your call and has evolved from its Dormant state. Through trial and tribulations, it has hearkened to the call of your Mind and has avowed its loyalty. As a result, the dormant powers of this Warplate have been partially unlocked. Future growth will boost existing effects and unlock new ones for your use.

  Leonidas let out a low whistle at the information presented about each of the items, and laughed quietly, drawing Ceruviel’s attention. Instead of enquiring, she simply eyed him in consideration, and then nodded in approval.

  “Good. Now, Achilles, you look like an Archon in truth.”

  “I have no idea how I look,” he said honestly, “but it feels good.”

  In response to his unspoken question, Ceruviel’s eyes flashed, and an image entered Leonidas’ mind, showing him what she saw with her own eyes: a tall, heavily-armored Knight stood in the middle of the chamber, their armor a blacksteel masterwork with faint, purposeful red veins snaking across its various pieces like healed wounds. Feathery ornamentation protruded from the red-visored greathelm the Knight wore, lending a mix of majesty and intimidation to an already imposing image.

  The blade in the Knight’s right hand was black with scarlet edges and a bloody fuller, shining faintly with an inner power. The Knight’s body flickered and crackled with crimson lightning where he stood, buoyed by a haze of psionic energy that seemed to drift around the spellblade in complementary sparks of energy and mental potency.

  Leonidas smiled at the projected image, and after a moment, dismissed his equipment—which vanished far more easily than before.

  “Okay,” he said simply, “that was awesome.”

  “Yes, and now you are ready for what comes next,” Ceruviel agreed while finally dismissing the [Profile] screen he’d shared. “Walk with me. It is almost time for me to depart, and I have much to share with you, Achilles.”

  “Our next steps?” he asked with genuine interest, while following the muscular Archon out of her private sanctuary.

  “That, and more. It is time you learned the true weight of being my Heir, Achilles, and what it means to be the Black Knight. Your path ahead will be filled with challenges, and the coming months—and years, at that—will test you in ways Elatra never did. You must be prepared to face the stress that will be put on your mind.”

  “I understand,” he said simply, and with a settling of resolve.

  “Good,” Ceruviel replied with an appraising glance up at him, “because what comes may create the blueprint for the very foundation of this continent’s future.”

  Leonidas felt his resolve strengthen at her words and nodded.

  “Tell me what we have to do.”

  Ceruviel smiled, and together they walked—Master and Apprentice—toward the duty he had chosen to accept. The truth of that relationship carried more weight than Leonidas would have admitted aloud. Their relationship had blossomed from necessity to comfortable privilege, into continuity as well, of something ancient, reigniting after centuries of declining strength.

  The Archon Order would return. He would make sure of it.

  He felt it as they passed through the halls of her mansion, through the subtle hum of warded stone, of psionic wards, and quiet magic brushing against his System-enhanced senses. Dawnhaven no longer felt like a city he had stumbled into, wary and confused, nor merely a place of temporary refuge. It felt like the platform for his destiny, the forge in which he would be tempered—not as a Hero to be wielded, not this time: but as something so much more, something necessary for his world; a Sovereign that could lead them out of the coming night.

  Ceruviel spoke as they walked, her voice low and deliberate, already returning to the broader vision and the steps he needed to take to ensure success, from immediate training to longer-term planning. She spoke of fault lines in the Court, of the Houses and individuals she most expected to manoeuvre against them both, of threats that would not announce themselves with monsters or dungeons but with whispers, contracts, and flashing knives. The coming trials, she warned him, would not test his strength alone, but also his restraint, his temperance, and his very character.

  Leonidas listened, committing every word to memory, but his thoughts stretched further still. Beyond Dawnhaven. Beyond Terra. Beyond even the System itself. His Core stirred quietly, hungry for devastation, but restrained by his own ironclad Will. Wounded, damaged, frayed, but intact still despite it all—thanks to Ceruviel.

  Still, he understood inevitability: some paths, once opened, could not be closed again.

  He had survived Elatra by force of will and comrades he had leaned on.

  He would endure his warped Homeworld on his own strength because there were no other options. Allies were necessary, but in the end, he would be the final check on his own weakness. He accepted that. His path demanded no less.

  Whatever awaited him, be it Kings, Divines, or a System that believed itself eternal: he would meet it standing, blade in hand, and a roar of defiance on his lips.

  Not as a pawn.

  Not as a weapon.

  But as an Archon.

  As a Sovereign.

  For Terra.

  For his people.

  For a world where no one ever had to experience what he had, and relieve the nightmares that had stolen his rest, and sundered some priceless part of the child he had been.

  I am Leonidas Achilles Romulus Paendrag. He said into his mind with narrowed eyes, thinking of the System and the Divines that constituted its highest class. I am the Black Knight of Dawnhaven, and by the edge of my sword, I will have my vengeance.

  THE END

  OF

  CATACLYSM RISING

  BOOK 1 OF SYSTEM INCURSION

  Please comment on what you liked or with theories you have!

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