The years since what Terrans called the ‘System Incursion’ had changed the planet once known as Earth, or Terra, and now simply named [Planet 42] by the System, into an unrecognizable place. Plant life grew where once only man was permitted to exist, consuming cities and small, now-abandoned townships and remote properties with rapid progress as the System’s mana infused the world with hitherto unseen vitality.

  Native wildlife transformed and mutated in any number of unpredictable ways, giving birth to the manabeasts that the Adventurers, Hunters, and other such organizations across the multitudinous territories of the once-United States of America set out to slay for rewards. The world was built, since the Incursion, on the singular and most primal truth of reality: survival. Civilization was a luxury, and civility an even rarer gift—one greatly sought after by many, and found only by a lucky few.

  Such as those in the area known as [Unclaimed Sector 117].

  The Thronehold City of Dawnhaven, in the heart of the aforementioned Sector, was luminous under the light of the midday sun, its streets and engineered buildings gleaming like jewels when viewed from on high. The Quarters and Districts of the city bustled, filled with citizens going about their business as the economy of the budding nation turned on the wheel of commerce. Hawkers offered rare monster parts, resources, or items found in the various dungeons within Dawnhaven’s purview by bold parties of Adventurers. In the same breath, cafe owners and restaurateurs called for customers to come and try their cuisine, either Terran or Alteran, with relentless enthusiasm.

  It was through these crowds, markets, and lively streets that Leonidas Achilles Romulus Paendrag walked, hands in his pockets, wearing his usual black-and-silver suit—complete with embellishments and jewelled affectations at the collar and along the folded-back inner edges of the jacket.

  His black hair rustled faintly in the breeze as he walked, falling just past his shoulders and carried by the wind in ripples of ebony tresses.

  His eyes, as blue as the sapphire inlaid in the brooch where a tie or cravat would normally be, shifted from person to person with casual interest as he walked. According to his mentor—the infamous Duchess of Twilight, Ceruviel of House Latherian—there was no better training for an Archon’s psionic senses than immersion in a crowd. Leonidas’ assigned task had him trying to parse the chaotic surge of minds into something resembling a proper catalogue.

  It was an evolution of his [Psionic Focus] Skill, and a requirement for him to successfully unlock the [Psionic Communication] Skill that Ceruviel believed would be useful for his upcoming Dungeon Delve alongside the Princess-Royal of Dawnhaven, Aylar Taleria Lux Fortuna Eldormer, a Swordmaiden. Also to join them were the ‘Princess’ of the Adventurers’ Guild, the Draconic-blooded Sorceress Synthra, a Mender from the Duskguard named Parnym, and finally the closest thing Leonidas had to a best friend after his short time within Dawnhaven; Bardulf, a half-Lycanus Shadowblade.

  “{Would you like to try one of our Alteran Slurpies, sir?}” an orcish salesperson asked him when he passed, and elicited a polite smile and shake of the head from Leonidas.

  “{No, thank you, but you have my gratitude for asking.}”

  The orc blinked at him when he spoke, and looking mildly unnerved, nodded and turned to the next traveler, who also gave Leonidas a quizzical look.

  It isn’t that bad, is it? Leonidas wondered as he moved on and continued focusing on trying to simply hear the mind-voices around him, never mind organizing them. Ceruviel had told him he spoke in an extremely archaic manner when it came to Haelfennyr, the unofficial common tongue of Altera, where Dawnhaven’s non-Terran citizenry and military originated from.

  The fault for his odd manner of speech was, of course, not his alone.

  He had learned to speak from a Haelfar named Lyara, in another world, during a transmigration before the System Incursion—a transmigration that turned out to be an engineered test by the System itself, and the direct cause of the Incursion later on. Leonidas had not been the only human transported and given the ‘test’ to defeat the Demon Lord Azrageth and his Legions of Hell. He simply had the misfortune, from his perspective, of being the first one to succeed, and as a result, branded for his ‘success’.

  Mind-glows everywhere, but no thoughts yet. Come on, Ace, focus.

  His right hand moved to touch his abdomen—and the dantian within it—unconsciously, where the marker of his bloody, terrifying successes against the Demon Lord Azrageth lurked. His [Cataclysm Core], a unique and transcendent Mana Core that he alone possessed, to his knowledge. Its power was second-to-none, but its stability left much to be desired, and he wondered if something had happened to interfere with his ability to resonate with the mind-glows he could see around him.

  His [Psionic Focus] ability was working just fine, operating with so little consumption thanks to his various bonuses that he was regenerating his Psi resource at a rate multiple times faster than his [Psionic Focus] drained it. With the bonus he’d gained from his Equipment, First Temper Tribulation, and more besides, he was about as well-off for magical economy as anyone at Level 11 could reasonably hope to be.

  If I don’t find a mind-glow I can hear soon, Ceruviel is going to smack me ag—

  His thoughts were cut off, abruptly, by a desperate and decidedly young voice within his mind; echoing as if coming from a specific direction, which caused him to turn instinctively to the north-west, where the voice was coming from deeper within the Prosperity Quarter he was exploring.

  Leonidas’ movement was swift, thanks both to his [Duelist] Aspect and his baseline body size, allowing him to cover distance with a single burst of effort. He moved in a flash of black and silver material, darting between people and launching himself through the crowd as fast as he could safely manage.

  Several people cursed, shouted, or cried out in alarm when he passed, but Leonidas paid them no attention.

  His pace pulled him closer to the voice he’d heard with shocking speed, and moments later, he emerged into a small, circular break in the main thoroughfare with a fountain at its center. The street split into a crossroads around the fountain, with two smaller laneways leading down to different areas of the Prosperity Quarter, while the main road led further along the main avenue toward the eventual Royal Heart of Dawnhaven.

  A shop was built onto each of the four diagonal corners of the crossroads, and Leonidas looked from the various healthy signs of civilian traffic through the nearest to his left—a coffee shop on the south-western corner of the small crossroads—toward the fountain proper. There, he found what he thought to be his target.

  His eyes assessed the situation quickly, taking stock.

  A young Terran boy, perhaps fifteen years old, was standing protectively in front of a girl around the same age. The boy was tall but skinny, perhaps 5’11”, with no muscle to speak of and a mess of blond hair on his head. He had a reasonably masculine face for his age, though he clearly had more to grow.

  The girl was shorter, around 5’6”, and had auburn hair. She would have been easy to mistake for an adult if not for the way she hid behind her companion, and she seemed to have chosen clothes to imitate a college student, as if to disguise her age. Leonidas rolled his eyes at the generationally consistent stupidity of wanting to grow up too fast. He could see the same youth in her that he’d known in his younger sister, Kairi, in her teenage years.

  The choice of clothing wasn’t enough to alter that fundamental truth.

  Leonidas figured either her appearance or some unwelcome comment from a creep was why they were being harassed by the three humans in fine leathers and chainmail, and he almost walked over to just get them to move on, then paused at hearing the truth from the echoing thoughts of the teenager.

  Leonidas frowned and looked from the teenagers to the three humans in thought. There was no woman among the trio, so it wasn’t one of them that the teenage girl, the presumptive Sonya, had made angry. So who, then?

  Thugs don’t get that sort of gear without House sponsorship, and Haelfenn Houses are picky with their Terran footmen, even though they take them to appease the populace. There has to be a…

  Leonidas’ eyes settled onto a young-looking—it was hard to tell, truthfully—Haelfar woman standing with two Haelfenn men as guards, both the latter in half-plate. The woman, no doubt a Noble as mentioned, was watching the siblings being intimidated with a smirk of satisfaction. She was dressed in a white blouse, tucked into a knee-length pencil skirt with a pair of black fishnets covering her legs and descending into a pair of thigh-high black leather heeled boots.

  More of this Neo-Terran fashion shit, he groused while walking forward, hands returning to his pockets. I should sort this out. I need to figure out why I heard that kid’s voice, and then replicate the process. Plus, bullying kids, with the colony’s current tensions? Are they fucking morons? Using Terrans to do it won’t fool anyone.

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  Unspoken in his thoughts was that the tension in the city was at least partially his fault, technically, but that wasn’t immediately pertinent.

  As he drew closer, the two guards finally seemed to notice him and placed their hands on the swords they wore cautiously.

  Idiots, he sighed mentally. Like that’s gonna help in this city.

  Leonidas did not let his irritation show out loud, however, and put an easy-going smile on his face when he spoke. “{Greetings,}” he called in Haelfennyr, allowing his voice to project enough to catch the attention of the three cornering the teens and the teens themselves. “{I was passing by, and could not help but notice the disturbance. Is there aught amiss here?}”

  The three Haelfenn reacted with varying levels of overt surprise at his artistic and archaic use of the language, and the two men turned to look at one another, while the noble woman stepped forward with her hands on her hips.

  “{What business is it of yours, Terran, what we are doing?}” she demanded, voice musical like the rest of her kind, but oddly hollow—bereft of the harmony that Haelfenn like Aylar or even Ceruviel were capable of effortlessly injecting. “{This is Dawnhaven. You are lucky to be considered a Resident, no matter how wealthy your blood is. Begone, before I call the city guard to haul you off. My father is a Count, you know! He even knows Earl Brightblade, and he knows the Princess-Royal, and…}”

  Leonidas’ attention faded halfway through her self-important rant, and he instead looked over her guardians with assessment and analytical consideration. Their stances spoke of formal training, but there was a lack of the normal quiet confidence he’d associate with Tempered individuals. Even a second-temper expert wouldn’t be too hard for him to handle, but the guards looked to be high-level Novice ranks at best.

  This is probably their training path before applying to the Dawnguard or Duskguard, he thought idly, suppressing a faint frown. If they’re just doing as ordered, probably as bannersworn, It’d be a bit excessive to hurt them badly. Is there a way I can resolve this without violence? Ceruviel did say to try to keep a low profile…

  “{Are you ignoring me?!}”

  The noble Haelfar’s voice cut through the air to pierce Leonidas’ thoughts, and he squinted against the unpleasant screech of her voice as it assaulted his ears. For a woman that looked like she would be the dream wife of any number of elf-enthusiasts the world over, her voice and personality made her about as attractive as a swamp hag.

  “{Apologies, I was—well, you had me terribly bored,}” he said impulsively, and drew narrowed gazes and stiffening spines from both the guardians, while the noble herself looked momentarily floored. “{You were going on about… something to do with a Count? Or Earl Brightlamp? I do not know. I do not care, to be quite truthful. Listen, I am going to just walk those children along, and you may return to preening, or whatever you wish to occupy yourself with. Okay? Excellent.}”

  Leonidas turned before she could do more than gape at him like a goldfish—he was sure someone would appreciate her in that pose, one day, he thought pettily—and strode toward the three humans that had momentarily halted their harassment, coming to a stop before them and looking across the trio with calculating assessment.

  All Novices, just like the two Haelfenn men.

  Don’t these people know they need to level up just to survive? Idiots.

  “Alright, gentlemen. On your way,” Leonidas said with an effort at civility, while nodding his head to the side. “You’ve made whatever point it is you’re making. Head on back to your employer.”

  “Look, friend,” one of the men growled quietly, “we know this situation isn’t great, but we’re getting paid to do a job—plus we really don’t want to mess up a fellow Terran, okay? So, kindly just fuck off, if you wouldn’t mind,” the middle man of the three continued, in a voice that seemed surprisingly sincere. “We convinced the Mistress that if we just scare these two a little, there’s no need to thump ‘em for the rudeness. We’re doing ‘em a favor.”

  Leonidas’ eyebrows rose faintly by the end of the explanation, and he leaned slightly to the right to look at the unknown teens. “Do you two feel like you’re being done a favor, by any chance?” he questioned mildly.

  “Fuck no!” the boy said, followed by an emphatic headshake from the girl, whose makeup had been smudged by tears he noticed now he was closer.

  Something clicked inside of him, and Leonidas knew Ceruviel was going to be angry again.

  He took a breath to calm the singing of his [Cataclysm Core] upon noticing its reaction to his sudden thought, and returned to looking at the three human adults. Clearly, they’d thought they were sparing the teens, based on their mind-glows, but they’d chosen coin over morals regardless. Did he understand? Absolutely, but he also had a [Knight Oath] he had avowed to, and the two teenagers had, the moment he’d look at them properly and they’d answered him with innocent fear, triggered the fourth of his five convictions.

  I shall be the Salvation that delivers those who prove to be truly deserving.

  Leonidas removed his right hand from his pocket and stepped to the side, looking left toward the noble—who closed the distance in a stomp of heels and hurried pursuit of her Haelfenn guards—and spoke in a voice that he intentionally voided of his normal charm.

  “{You should apologize,}” he said while his Core hummed within his dantian, and his mana surged through his body unseen. “{Before I decide to convince you.}”

  “{Apologize? To you?}” the Haelfar woman demanded.

  “{No,}” he replied coldly, “{to} them,” he finished, with the last word in English for the teens’ benefit as he pointed at them. “{They did nothing to you, Highborn. You have violated the peace for your own profit. You have incurred harm upon two deserving of my grace, and I will not easily forgive that trespass.}”

  One of the humans employed by the Haelfar widened his eyes in Leonidas’ periphery and abruptly turned, running over toward the Highborn and almost tripping over himself. Hurriedly, he spoke to one of the guards in a low and urgent voice, pointing at Leonidas like he were indicating the approach of a hurricane.

  The guard blinked as he listened, then his eyes widened, and he looked at Leonidas in horror.

  Leonidas simply smiled back, showing teeth.

  “{My lady!}” the guard said urgently, “{My lady! We cannot—that is, you cannot aggravate this Terran, he is not who you—}”

  “{Shut up!}” the woman snarled, turning to her guard, and then turning back toward Leonidas. “{You! You vermin! How dare you! I will have you beaten, you and your ridiculous accoutrements!}” she declared, shoving forward the guard on her right. “{Go! Beat him! You two as well!}” she shouted at the humans, who glanced at their companion uncertaintly.

  The man, standing with the other Haelfar guard, shook his head vehemently and even repeatedly crossed his hands in front of himself to ward them off.

  The pair exchanged looks, eyed Leonidas carefully, and then, with a grim sense of obligation, started to approach.

  “I’m sorry!” the teenage boy called, his voice filled with guilt.

  “For what?” Leonidas asked instinctively as he looked over, a faint smile on his lips for the youths specifically.

  “You—You’re gonna get beat up,” the boy said with a look of determination, one wavering toward doing something stupid.

  “By who?” Leonidas asked instead of refuting him, his voice projecting amusement.

  “That elf and those two big adults.”

  “Kid,” Leonidas said while the three in question closed in, “you’re about to feel really silly for saying that, I promise, but I’ll let you figure that out for yourself.”

  The boy and his companion, Sonya, looked at him like he was crazy—but Leonidas just smiled wryly and turned back to the approaching trio. His gaze flicked toward the other two that hadn’t joined, and he saw the second Haelfar guard running off, waving his arms and shouting for the Dawnguard.

  That would be annoying, but given recent developments, easily managed.

  If I don’t kill anyone, it won’t be a problem, right?

  His eyes moved between the two humans and the elf as they neared the distance required to properly charge another Untempered, and Leonidas calmly drew on his Psi pool with a ripple of his [Cataclysm Core], Intent-triggering a skill in the same moment and raising his right hand, palm down, fingertips bending in toward his palm. The moment he did, power echoed through his connection to the System, and he forged the Psi of his Affinity into the proper Intent for the [Psionic Force] skill, layering it over the approaching Haelfar and both Terrans.

  All three smashed into the manastone streets with an echoing crash, sending screams rippling through the crowd, followed a second later by strangled silence.

  Around Leonidas’ arm had appeared scarlet, serpentine snap-crackles of aetheric lightning, accompanied by violet sparks of Psionic might. His eyes, he knew, would be aglow; faintly ringed in deep purple at the edges, and touched by scarlet threading through the blue of his irises.

  “I k-knew it,” the uninvolved human thug said, falling to his knees with a look of mixed terror and reverence. “I knew it was you. Forgive me. Please, forgive me, I should never have taken this job.”

  Leonidas’ expression twisted into something akin to disappointment at the man’s reaction, and he started to look away before another voice rang out.

  “ACHILLES!” someone shouted, calling from the street in a Terran voice, only to be taken up by another voice, and another, and another, until the Nyrterrae—the non-humans—in the area were watching in perplexity as humans began to kneel, pressing their fists to their hearts.

  “Haill to you, Leonidas Achilles!” the thug who had first recognized him said, his hands uplifted as if having a religious experience. Leonidas felt mortified. “Hail to the Defier of Heavens! Hail to the Black Knight!”

  “HAIL ACHILLES! HAIL THE BLACK KNIGHT!”

  Leonidas dismissed his skill when the Haelfar and Terrans on the ground stopped struggling, staring up at him in dread instead, and tucked his hand back into his pocket with a sigh.

  “Is… is it really you?” the teenager he’d originally come to help asked, still standing, thank the Divines, with the girl he was protecting beside him now, both of them watching him with eyes as wide as they would go. “Are you really the one they’ve been talking about? We weren’t allowed to see the Arena fights, and—”

  “Yeah,” Leonidas cut in with a faint smile, remembering his time on Elatra, and a similar-but-altogether-different kind of reverence. It was, as odd as it sounded, something he was disturbingly used to receiving. “I’m Achilles.”

  Great, he thought glumly. I lasted two hours. Ceruviel’s gonna hit me again.

  When he heard the approach of fast-moving armored footsteps, his head turned, and he let out another sigh.

  Yeah, he thought with resignation. She’s going to kick my ass.

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