This process is now live. A new understanding has grown within you, and a new role for you has been designated. The purpose of this borrowed power is to extend the frontier and push back the ancient foes of purpose.

  To this end, you are granted a new title.

  Oncoming Apocalypse: You are a weapon of the Heavens, and when the time is right, you will be aimed at the frontlines in the hopes that you will be an apocalyptic event for the opposing side.

  No stats or other benefits are currently granted by this title as it has been created through your own work as an Architect.

  Well, that was some BS. A title that ominous should come with some big perks, but I took a small amount of solace in the word ‘currently.’ It still sucked, but I could live with it. What bothered me more was that no matter how much I poked or prodded, the system wouldn’t tell me any more about this mysterious foe it had mentioned.

  I was left with no choice but to move on to the next notification.

  Accounting for your proclivity for recognizing patterns and identifying priorities, a new group has been created to match your new title.

  Horsemen of the Oncoming Apocalypse

  Hell System—Samvek Rayden

  Divided Realms—

  Dragon System—

  Fey System—

  A Horseman is empowered by being connected to you, and by receiving power from another system. The potentiality of all Horsemen is boosted to a minimum of one percent.

  I thought about that, wondering why those who were bonded with a dragon didn’t already count as having power from another system. In the end, I decided that this had to do with designing new paths for the system rather than simply gaining outside power. I’d need to think about it more, but for now, I kept going with the notifications.

  Analysis has been completed. Psi defies complete system quantification, so estimations have been made.

  You have granted Samvek Rayden, and gained for yourself, a new Psi ability: Physical Enhancement. This will provide a baseline five percent increase to the effectiveness of all your physical stats, but it is theorized that by expending Psi, you will be able to produce temporary but radical enhancements to one or all of your physical stats.

  You continue to regenerate Psi through a process that has not yet been quantified. It is estimated that Samvek Rayden will need to have any Psi that he uses replaced by you or otherwise replenished from an outside source.

  That was fascinating. Now that the system mentioned it, I could feel the new ability within me. I wasn’t sure exactly how it worked, but as with all of the Psi abilities so far, it would require experimentation.

  There was another notification from the Hell System about how my Golem Molder abilities had improved, and how I’d gained a vassal. Was what I’d done to Samvek really that similar to making a golem? If so, the experience might come in handy this afternoon when Tad and I got to work again.

  I wanted to ask Samvek what he thought about it, but his eyes were still closed. I imagined that with his new class he had more to unpack, so I’d leave him to it. I had my own gains to go over, anyway.

  Vitae Reservoir: 6,754/15,500

  Occupation: Architect of the System, Level: 166 >> 173

  Trade Skills:

  System Design: 41 >> 48

  System Sight: 10 >> 11

  System Interface: 27 >> 28

  Skills:

  Short Blades: 608 >> 610

  Grappling: 624 >> 626

  Defensive Fighting: 946 >> 952

  Slashing Weapons—Life Slash: 1029 >> 1030

  Polearms: 966 >> 970

  Aerial Combat: 832 >> 835

  Piercing Weapons—All In: 1024 >> 1025

  Natural Weapon Fighting: 872 >> 876

  Trainer: 458 >> 460

  Mana Channeling: 882 >> 883

  Active Abilities:

  Spirit Singing (Legendary 62%) >> 64%

  Passive Abilities:

  Blood is Life (Ascendant 1%) >> 2%

  Race: Heretical Trailblazer of the Fused Path (Legendary 69%) >> 71%

  Titles:

  Soul Progenitor II >> III

  Flesh Builder III >> IV

  Draconic Dust: processing 1% >> 2%

  Interlude Two: Moving Pieces

  The air on the Australian coast tasted wrong, sharp with mana and heat even before anything moved. Jiang stood at the front of the formation of troops, spear grounded lightly in one hand. His dragon, Veracian, was far enough away to not take the focus off the lesson he intended to teach today, but close enough to intervene in the worst-case scenario. Jiang was a little worried that Veracian might not see the need to intervene to save any of their guests. Not for a single instant did he doubt the bond the two of them shared, but dragons had their own priority lists.

  The politicians clustered behind layered shields and armored transports, and appeared to be trying very hard not to stare at the wilderness stretching out before them. Australia had always been dangerous, but this was something else entirely. The council had representatives from each of the races currently native to Earth. For the Rigellians and Galenians, this was old hat. For the Crembori, it was new, but they were objective enough to take it in stride. It was the human leaders who had to be dragged kicking and screaming into the future.

  Some were better than others, but too many still thought that as the world stabilized, they could return to the life they’d known before. The success that Earth had under Silas’ guidance didn’t help on that front. There were now many cities, even outside of the safe zones, where people could live their lives without encountering monsters. Out of sight was often out of mind, and the night broadcasts all tended to be about other places.

  Yet Jiang had chosen this place deliberately.

  The land ahead was broken and feral, trees twisted into unnatural shapes, the ground scarred by massive tracks that no normal animal should have been able to leave behind. Mana rolled through the environment in visible currents, bending light and sound in subtle ways. It was almost like the environment was a monster in its own right, evolving with the growing mana concentration on Earth. Jiang felt it pressing against his senses, familiar and unwelcome. This wasn’t a controlled zone, but that was the point.

  The mana density did raise another question that he didn’t want to consider. Namely, what would happen when Earth’s mana concentration reached legendary tier, and some of the remaining incursions occurred? Or what if other nefarious forces found a way to reach Earth before the probationary period was up? With Silas gone, Jiang felt more exposed than ever.

  One of the council members muttered that the area looked abandoned. Jiang didn’t turn his head. “It isn’t,” he said calmly. “You just aren’t welcome here. The things out there have claimed this land as their own.”

  The first tremor hit a second later, the ground shuddering hard enough to rattle teeth. Then the wildlife announced itself.

  A massive shape burst from the tree line in a spray of dirt and splintered roots, resolving into a kangaroo that stood taller than an armored truck. Its hind legs were thick with corded muscle, its hide reinforced by mana into something closer to stone than flesh. It landed, crouched, and launched again, covering fifty meters in a single bound.

  “Contact,” Jiang said, his voice carrying without effort. “Vanguard, engage.”

  They moved as one.

  The first kangaroo came down in the middle of the formation, feet slamming into a shield with explosive force. The barrier cracked, light flaring, but Jiang was already there. His spear flashed out, driving through the creature’s chest and out its back, mana discharging in a violent pulse that dropped it mid-kick. He twisted the shaft and wrenched it free as the body collapsed, the impact shaking the ground. He had intended to let the Vanguard bear more of the burden, but most of them were rare tier, and that first monster had already been epic. This wasn’t starting out very well.

  There was no time to linger. More followed. Three, then five, bounding in erratic arcs that would have shattered conventional formations. Vanguard members broke into practiced pairs, drawing the creatures away from the civilians. One kangaroo kicked a transport hard enough to dent the reinforced plating, only to be brought down by a coordinated strike that severed its spine. Blood sprayed hot and bright, hissing as it hit mana-scorched earth. At least these were weaker than the first.

  The sky screamed.

  Oversized birds dove from above, wingspans stretching impossibly wide, feathers hardened into bladed shapes that cut the air. One clipped a Vanguard soldier across the shoulder, ripping armor and flesh in the same motion. Jiang leapt with the wind wrapped around him, spear spinning as he met the next dive head-on. He drove the weapon through the bird’s skull and rode it down, tearing free just before it hit the ground.

  Then the pressure changed.

  A deep, rolling presence pushed outward from the swamp beyond the trees, heavy enough that several of the politicians cried out and staggered. Jiang felt it immediately—an apex aura that didn’t care who noticed it. Water surged as something massive hauled itself forward, scales the size of shields scraping against mud and stone. The crocodile was enormous, easily four times the size of anything that should have existed on Earth, its eyes glowing with a cold, predatory intelligence.

  “Hold your line,” Jiang ordered. “Focus fire. Don’t let it reach the transports.”

  Jiang assessed the threat and decided that this might work. It was well into epic tier, but rather than jumping in to help the Vanguard, he let them take the first wave of attacks. Their healers were pushed to their limits as they repaired the frontliners who were bearing the brunt.

  The croc pushed forward, and the Vanguard line had to back up to keep from collapsing. Soon, they were fighting with their backs to the armored vehicles, and the monster’s thrashing toppled one of the vehicles over. The politicians, even those accustomed to the mana-infused monstrosities this new world produced, had all backed up. Their guards were eying the beast warily.

  The creature lunged again, jaws snapping shut where a Vanguard member had stood a heartbeat earlier. Jiang slammed into its flank, spear biting deep between reinforced scales. Mana exploded outward, but the beast barely slowed, tail whipping around and sending two soldiers flying. Shields flared. One failed.

  Jiang rose higher on wings of air, then drove straight down. The spear plunged through the creature’s skull, pinning it to the ground as he poured everything he had into the strike. The crocodile convulsed, jaws snapping uselessly, then went still, its aura collapsing in on itself like a dying star.

  Silence followed, broken only by heavy breathing and the crackle of fading mana. A few more healing spells still had to be cast, and more than one member downed a potion to be ready as quickly as possible.

  Jiang landed and pulled his spear free, blood and mud sliding off the weapon in thick sheets. He turned slowly, taking in the damage, the fallen monsters, the Vanguard already reforming without being told. Then he faced the politicians.

  “This,” he said evenly, “was not a worst-case scenario. Not even close.”

  No one spoke.

  “This was manageable,” Jiang continued. “A routine response. We chose this location because it’s one of dozens where things like this happen regularly. There are places worse than this. Places we can’t afford to lose.”

  One of the council members swallowed and asked if this was truly necessary to show them. Jiang met his gaze without anger or pity. “You wanted proof,” he said. “You wanted reassurance that Earth is under control. It isn’t. The forces that want to take over have been held in abeyance, but without Silas, that grasp has slipped, if only a fraction.”

  He turned back toward the wild. For a brief moment, his thoughts drifted to Silas, wherever in the multiverse he was fighting his own impossible battles. Jiang hoped he was alive. He hoped he was getting stronger. In his gut, Jiang knew they were going to need all that strength.

  Then Councilman Chen Guoqiang spoke. “I think I speak for not only myself, but all of the council, when I tell you that we will do all we can to ensure that you have the resources you need.”

  Jiang nodded. It wasn’t what he was really after from them, but it was a start.

  The training ground rang with the dull thud of impact and the hiss of scorched air. Lana stood with her arms folded, eyes fixed on Cece as the younger woman ran through another set of spear forms. Cece’s phoenix blood made her movements fast and explosive, fire licking along the blade as she struck, but there was sloppiness in the transitions that grated on Lana’s nerves. Nearby, Cece’s dragon lay coiled in the shade of a reinforced berm, chest rising and falling in a slow, thunderous rhythm, utterly unconcerned.

  “Again,” Lana said, her voice flat.

  Cece bit back a groan and reset her stance. She drove forward, spear thrusting, flames flaring brighter as she poured mana into the strike. Lana stepped in at the last instant, fingers flicking as a thin ribbon of metal mana hardened the air just enough to catch the spearhead. The impact jarred Cece’s arms and sent a shock up her shoulders.

  “That’s not control,” Lana said. “That’s momentum doing the thinking for you.”

  Cece pulled back, breathing hard. “I’m doing what you asked,” she snapped. “I’m hitting harder and faster.”

  “You’re burning fuel, not learning,” Lana replied. She shifted her weight and the world seemed to stutter for half a heartbeat, time mana compressing the moment. Cece blinked, off-balance, and Lana was suddenly inside her guard, tapping two fingers against Cece’s ribs. “You’d be dead.”

  Cece’s jaw tightened. “You didn’t have to freeze me.”

  “I didn’t freeze you,” Lana said. “I slowed you. There’s a difference, and you need to feel it.”

  They moved again, sweat and heat building as Cece cycled through strikes and counters. Lana corrected every error with ruthless precision, redirecting blows with metal-hardened palms or stepping aside at angles that made Cece’s fire splash harmlessly past. Minutes stretched into an hour, and the complaints finally broke free.

  “This is ridiculous,” Cece said, lowering her spear. “Selena didn’t train like this. Silas didn’t train like this.”

  Lana’s eyes narrowed, but her voice stayed calm. “Selena was too worried about upsetting Silas. Trust me, her training was far worse than this. Her tutors would have done everything short of killing her to make her stronger, and it started before she was even old enough to have the system. As for Silas, what works for him doesn’t work for the rest of us. I trust him implicitly, but I wouldn’t ask him for training. He’d ask me.”

  Cece laughed bitterly. “Still. You grew up with this. I didn’t.”

  “And it nearly broke me,” Lana said. She stepped closer, close enough that Cece could see the old scars along her knuckles. “I hated every day of it. I complained too. I thought it was unfair. Then I understood why.”

  Cece looked away, shoulders slumping. “I just wanted to help him. I thought being strong would be enough. Sure you aren’t just taking it out on me because he didn’t pick you?”

  Lana’s nostrils flared, but her expression didn’t change otherwise. “I’m going to forget you asked that and move on, this one time. Just because I see why Silas did what he did doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t have been happy to be chosen. But I’m content to be his friend. When he gets back, he’s going to need all the friends he can get.

  “That’s all the more reason for you to train. Strength won’t be enough by itself,” Lana said quietly. “Not where Silas is going. Legendary tier isn’t a trophy. It’s the minimum price of admission.” She paused, letting the words sink in. “You need to reach it before he comes back.”

  That snapped Cece’s attention back to the present. “Wait. We don’t even know where he is?”

  “No, but the search is narrowing,” Lana said. “Besides, if you don’t reach legendary soon, you’ll always be the protectee instead of the protector, and I know how much that would annoy you.”

  Silence hung between them, broken only by the crackle of dying flames around Cece’s spear. The dragon shifted in its sleep, a low rumble vibrating the ground, but did not wake.

  Cece straightened, lifting the spear again. The fire along the blade dimmed, condensing into a tighter, hotter glow. “Show me where I’m weak.”

  Lana nodded once. “Good. Start with footwork. Without balance, your flames will just burn themselves out.”

  They moved together then, slower and cleaner. Lana wove metal mana into the ground to change traction without warning, forcing Cece to adjust. She stretched seconds into long, punishing moments so Cece had to hold perfect form under strain. The complaints stopped, replaced by gritted teeth and focused eyes.

  As the sun dipped lower, Lana watched Cece drive the spear forward again, flames controlled and precise this time. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. That was how the system worked. Each bit of growth built upon what came before. Lana allowed herself a single, small nod of approval. Pain was coming, more of it than Cece could imagine, but this path worked. It always had.

  Terrel Nissun, head Inquisitor in Basetown, at least for the next few minutes, stood sweating. Normally, he caused others to sweat, but today was different. Today, he would be called to task for his failures. Yesterday, a pair of Dreadnoughts had disappeared, along with three Lawspeakers and a squad of Lawkeepers. The latter wasn’t really much of a loss. All the people on this world were so weak. But even lower-level Dreadnoughts represented a significant investment of divine resources. They didn’t vanish without a trace.

  He’d been taught long ago never to waste those resources. Yet they were gone, and no amount of scrying, searching, or questioning told them why or how. Finding faint traces of Order magic in the warehouse district was as close as he had gotten in his search, but nothing made any sense. No one on this world should have been able to defeat even one of those Dreadnoughts. Supposedly, the cursed fey didn’t have any awakened on Aerth.