Tutorial's End

Mav

Ki'ai'en and Mav's Home, Farcem City, Motrendi

A deep sigh tore from Mav as she watched the sleeping children. Jonah lay sprawled out across two of their zabuton, with Naomi's head resting atop his belly as she lay in a half-curled ball on her side.

"They are so young." She told Aī as he stepped behind her and reached up to rub at her shoulders.

Letting herself relax, she enjoyed his attention. "They are." He agreed, a sadness hiding underneath the casual agreement.

He saw the same as she, unsurprisingly. Both children had been set on paths of strife and struggle. Naomi might be persuaded off of it, as Mav could see the longing to remain bathed in her mana's comforting embrace. Unfortunately, her hospitable home ability would never remain in her soul, no matter how long the girl remained in the house. As soon as she left, her mana would begin to drain away.

Allowing her to stay her would do nothing but stunt her growth and create a dependence which would quickly become unhealthy.

"Is there nothing we can do for them?"

"We already have. They need friends and comfort for now… And perhaps some encouragement. From my conversation with Naomi earlier, her plans appear to be quite… Ambitious."

Slowly turning, Mav frowned down at her man, "What are her plans? Are they related to her following that path?" Mav's tongue was laced with vitriol as she spat the last two words, her disdain clear.

The antithesis of her own path, Mav couldn't help but feel horrified at the very thought of The Empty Nothing. Despite Naomi's words making her doubt whether it was exactly the same, she trusted Aī's reading of other's paths.

He shook his head with a smile, "No… Not exactly. Her goal is driven by compassion, if you can believe it. And possibly anger. She is quite an enigma. Her goals and disposition almost seeming to be at odds… Come, let's retire for the night and I'll tell you more in bed. We shouldn't disturb our guests' sleep."

Nuu

Scene Incubator 22, O.F.F. Oversight Post, Desvin

Hands clasping his most recent and most treasured tome to his breast, Nuu's bright eyes flickered between each monitor as he stood vigil behind the unknowing sentry.

The O.F.F. bastion on Desvin pulsated with life and energy when the fae had first discovered it, bursting with energetic motion and endless progress. Technologies were devised and tested rapidly upon the surface of the mineral-rich world, yet the industry had slowly run to a halt in recent years.

At least, such as the story Nuu had written. His lips were pursed as he observed behind his unwitting guide. The orc, and all of the orcs on this planet, were utterly unaware of his presence. No matter the disturbance he might cause, or the trouble he may bring, they would be none the wiser. The prose of absolute ignorance Nuu had written were both ironclad and subtle. They were also the cause for his visit.

In years past, Nuu had written the long narrative of this world with the intention of testing his ability to make sweeping and dramatic changes which ran counter to the nature of his test subjects. At that time, he'd skulked and slunk about, careful to avoid detection. Ever vigilant, only able to find his way on and off the world with great care.

This time, he had written an indirect narrative with the intent of blinding and deafening all who wondered this planet to his prescience. In total, he had written forty three thousand words. Not a single verse mentioned any being on the planet by name, save himself. Not a single verse indicated hiding, remaining undetected, or otherwise directly stating effects he intended. Coming here had been a risk, for he knew full well the orc's blood-lust and predisposition toward cruelty. Had they detect him, he believed centuries of torture to be the most likely outcome.

Yet, here he stood. Unmolested and unnoticed. Pulling the small messenger bag hanging from his shoulder around, Nuu carefully slid his current tome 'The Precipice of Design' into the bag and retrieved the narrative which enabled him to stroll about as a living ghost.

Opening to the first page, he quickly began to skim through his work. He wished to verify his word usage, style, and pacing. Every aspect was of the utmost import to his craft and, given the great success of this experiment, he wished to cement every aspect into his mind lest he make a mistake while implementing the lessons learned here in his current work.

Half way through the tome, he found a passage he'd forgotten. Yet another thing he wished to test. A mechanism he'd dubbed a 'fulcrum passage.'

The ghost of Desvin makes known its presence with whisper and touch, heralding a descent into madness drawn to its conclusion as the time of completion is heralded.

Each sign witnessed marks the encroaching madness' ultimate descent. Madness unknown, witnessed by mind or eye of any who know its touch.

The rest of the chapter continued on, describing the madness. Previous chapters had established the signs, of which there were twenty. Each sign was a specific event, while everything else was left vague. Nuu snapped the novel closed and slid it back into his bag.

To test his 'fulcrum passage' worked as designed, Nuu stepped forward and leaned in toward the orc observing the comprehensive monitoring system. His hand gently rested on a broad shoulder as he whispered softly, "The madness begins."

Wyshaami

Frazzlen Compound QI-3, Hevren Outlook, Motrendi

Walking through the compound, Wyshaami ignored the shocked looks and quick bows of deference from the many beings he passed. He made his way directly toward the branch president's office, intent on his task.

Opening the door, he found the human engaged with an elf woman. Had he a nose, he'd have crinkled it in disgust at the sight. The president cursed and drew breath to shout, then realized who stood in his doorway and contended himself with spewing more filth. The woman meanwhile quickly leapt away from the president, rushing to gather her clothes.

Wyshaami sighed and tapped his foot, waiting for the inefficient creatures to get themselves in order. He cared not what they were doing, so long as it didn't reduce their effectiveness within the roles they were assigned. Given the reason for his visit, Wyshaami found himself feeling quite willing to believe the president's effectiveness was undeterred by their mid-day dalliance.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Watching impassively until both employees were decent, the Hazzabi leader waved the woman out of the room. She fled without question. All five eyes turned on the president.

"Herold." He spoke without inflection, having found long ago that a neutral tone was nearly always the best way to approach an uncertain situation. The secondary party would interpret it to mean he knew much more than he did, and as such would admit that which they feared he knew.

"Leader! I… I'm very sorry you had to see that. I would have made myself presentable, had I known of your arrival." Herold, it seemed, would not be admitting to anything more than was already plainly clear. Likely one of the reasons he'd ended up as branch president. Wyshaami could hardly remember each and every mere branch president, considering the millions under him.

He decided to simply bypass the formalities. "I am here regarding a certain Ki'ai'en and the recent changes he made to two of our newest member's contracts."

Wyshaami was intrigued by the man's reaction. Sweat begin to accumulate on Herold's brow, the stench of fear wafting from him plain to his olfactory eyes, and the human's dilating eyes suggested he was experiencing an adrenal response.

So, I should not be lauding this man for the actions of his subordinate. Ki'ai'en clearly acted within his direction. Interesting.

"I'm sorry, sir! We've always allowed administrators a bit of leeway so they can alter deals to get the faction the best possible candidates. It only recently came to my attention that Ki'ai'en had taken advantage to give a pair of humans a contract more favorable to them, and less to us. We are still in the process of determining the best form of punishment to enact."

Remaining silent, Wyshaami waited to see what else the man would expose without provocation.

"We… We are considering stripping his administrative title and sending him to a class one post. Maybe mining on one of the asteroid belts, or assigned as a respawn attendant…." The sweat was now soaking the man's shirt as well as his head.

Humans. Wyshaami scoffed to himself, The multiverse's worst deceivers.

"I see. And do you know the reason Ki'ai'en made this contract change?"

"Uh…" The man hesitated, then answered slowly, "We… We believe he was coerced by Madrick Lark. Lark likely took advantage of prior personal ties, as his file indicates that Ki'ai'en and Lark knew each other at some point in the past…"

"Hmm…"

"But that's no excuse, of course! Exceptions should never be made! Policy is there for a reason and we'll ensure it's enforced better in the future. Certainly. You have my word, sir."

Wyshaami sighed, it was always so troublesome to remove a president. It meant he'd have to find a new one, but he simply couldn't allow anyone who would try to lie directly to his face to remain. He appreciated the sly and cunning, but part of being sly and cunning was understanding when to be straight forward and honest. This man was clearly a fool and was not fit to run any part of his faction, his empire.

With a flicker of thought, Wyshaami heralded a speck of his mana and sent it through his center eye. The optical organ forged a connection between Herold's soul and his own and Wyshaami pulled. The man's soul popped out of his flesh with hardly any resistance. Another idle thought was enough to compress the man's soul into a bead which flew into Wyshaami's open hand.

"At least you'll make a decent component. The I.G.C. always needs additional processing power."

Vekres Unduule

Monitoring Deck, Operations, Hemmnesty

Tapping her foot, Commander Vekres of Clan Unduule waited impatiently for the data grunt to process her request. The desk-chained fool's eyes flicked up from the flashing off-UICI interface sitting between them nervously. The weak-willed orc was clearly terrified of her. Fitting, yet obnoxious. She was used to dealing with true orcs. Orcs with fire in their hearts and steal in their spines. Not these glorified elves in orcish form.

"Well?" She demanded, her voice still rough from taking that missile to the throat a year ago. Damn gnomish mechanics.

"I… I'm sorry, ma'am. It looks like Jemer Unduule is still on assignment. She has not checked in for a while and is currently marked as MIA. There is a possible desertion mark on her record."

Vekres scowled, as if her clan mate would do anything so dishonorable as desert! The idea was laughable.

"Give me her last known location and assignment." Vekres demanded coldly.

Hesitantly, the man tapped a few keys, then shook his head, "Uh… It… It looks like the system doesn't have that information… It… Looks like it was corrupted somehow?"

Considering whether splitting the peon's skull would improve her mood, Vekres ran her broad finger along the edge of the hand-axe hanging from her waist. It only took her a moment to dismiss the thought. There was no glory in the destruction of the weak.

"Tell me who to talk to about this problem. I require this information to properly monitor my subordinate. Failure to provide me the data I require will result in your reassignment. I'll make sure to send you to an elf faction as a slave." She growled the last bit as she leaned in, making certain the man couldn't possibly mistake her threat for jest.

Watching him swallow, she was gratified to note her ability to instill terror in bureaucrats was undiminished with time.

"Y-yes ma'am! I'll get you that information right away!" He quickly began typing away. Finally, the underling gave her a list of names. The people who might have handled Jemer's last assignment.

The 'helpful' clerk asked if she'd like him to send them messages requesting details and explaining the system fault. She agreed, though if they ever responded she'd be shocked. Every name in the list was a lieutenant or higher ranked and was unlikely to reply to some simple clerk's message.

It didn't matter. The thrill of the hunt had begun coursing through her already and she knew she'd go interview each of the contacts herself anyway. It'd been far too long since she'd stretched her legs and axe arm.

"Don't worry little Jemer. Your cousin's coming." She murmured softly as she left, offering her words to the spirit of the hunt. With any luck, her cousin would feel the ominous tingle of The Wargstride Huntress' promise breathing down her neck.

Madrick

The Throne, Larkenhold, Pashaka

Sighing, Madrick stared out upon his empire. He was old now, having unified the tribes through a mix of force, coercion, and inspiration. Once the tribes had all been joined, they had set out to battle against the invaders who brought with them gunpowder, steam, and death.

They'd defeated them as well, throwing them back into the ocean from whence they'd come. Now, he sat upon a throne forged of pure iron. His blood, sweat, and tears had forged this kingdom. His will as a ruler reignited. The passion of his youth recaptured.

He sighed again, as he knew his time in this world was coming to an end yet again. Though a blip within the sea of time he'd lived, he knew he would remember this experience. Just as he remembered his tutorial, his first life, more powerfully than almost any other period in his life. There was something truly meaningful about this place, these people, his blood and flesh. He knew no one from his original tutorial. Whether none came through, or whether they spawned so distantly that they'd never crossed paths, he didn't know.

All he knew is he finally realized, or perhaps remembered, why he'd set out on his path to godhood originally. It wasn't simply to become the most powerful. No, that goal was the twisted compromise he'd made with himself after failing in his true goal for so long.

His true purpose was to find his family. In his youth he'd longed to find them so that he could right the wrongs of his tutorial life. He'd unify them in the real world, as he'd failed to in the tutorial. After so long, he finally realized how unlikely that wish. He also realized the fulfillment of accomplishing his goals, and more-so alongside others of like mind.

As his head slumped forward, his mortal body failing him as he had suspected would happen any day, Madrick made a promise to himself. He would find a new family, and he'd forge them into the ultimate force. No one would stand in their way and live.

New Universal Achievement Gained!

Unifier

You have bridged cultural, religious, and world view differences to forge a unified nation from many scattered peoples.

Loyal members of your nation accumulate 0.01% less advancement strain, allowing them to advance faster with less risk of damaging their cultivation base or soul, per other nationalists within 100km per achievement holder's rank.

Effect is doubled within the direct domain of the achievement holder.