Chapter 9

Cybernetics are a common sight across Anogwin. The modifications can range from affordable and functional to excessively priced augmentations able to turn the meekest man into a threat. Body augmentation can become an addiction, leading people to discard their bodies piece by piece to eventually become what is called a Cyber-Freak.

Day 1, Igniday

I tentatively touched my throbbing right temple. It and the base of my skull were an unsettling combination of burning pain and complete numbness, a reminder that I was missing flesh and bone in those locations.

I sat in a backmost seat of a lecture hall in the main school building, the Aegis Hall. The massive semicircular room had dark-stained cherry wood walls. At each student’s station was a desk-mounted holo-display. While waiting for class to start, I had been toying with the graphical interface, finding access to a slew of textbooks.

A cacophonous slam resounded through the hall. I nearly jumped out of my seat as a surly-looking old Human man stepped into the room. The professor was stooped, his walk little more than a shuffle. Atop his head was a pointed cap, now a limp, floppy thing. Over his Mystagogue uniform was a musty cloak with ink stains across the sleeves. His snow-white hair was cut close to his scalp, his eyes hidden in shadow. In his left hand was a staff capped with a glowing blue gem. Under his right arm was a massive tome bound in white leather with black iron bands.

He shuffled to the master’s desk, muttering under his breath, the staff clacking angrily with every step. He dropped the tome as if it were a sack of stones. He propped his staff against the back wall and planted both hands on his desk.

“I am High Mystagogue Joseph, and you will refer to me as such or Professor Joseph,” his voice was a whining, growling thing. “I will normally be the instructor of your mathematics, geography, and politics classes. But today, I am here to explain what a terrible decision you made in joining this academy.”

He folded his hands behind his back and shuffled to the front of the desk. As he started speaking, the holo-displays lit up. “You are training to join the Hermetic Order of the Aegis. No doubt you hadn’t heard of the Order until your sponsor recruited you. This is how we like it. We work from the shadows, only taking the spotlight when needed, and when those times come, we do not reveal the existence of the Order. We simply state that we are a part of something greater.” He said the last bit with air quotes.

“As a member, you will have access to resources like few others. Depending on your sect, you will have access to hidden knowledge, limitless resources for crafting, a spy network unlike any other, and many of you will also be given an adventurer’s license.” This last tidbit had most students on the edge of their seats.

“Many of you will never see graduation. The tests are difficult and, at times, dangerous. Out of the fifty of you in this room, by the end of this year, most likely ten will fail out, five will drop out, and another five will be dead.” The class met this with a cold silence. “If you fail or drop out, all memory of this place will be wiped, and you will be gated back to your hometown.”

“A key component is right there in the name: ‘Hermetic’. We are not a government organization. We are a religious group following The Shattered Goddess. As Slates, your study of the Order’s beliefs will be purely academic. When you become a Tier One trainee, you will be indoctrinated into your sect’s culture.”

“No doubt you have never heard of our Fractured Goddess. In an era lost to time, a great evil rose from the void. This entity was so terrible not even the Primordials dared face it. But where the powers that forged the realms would not stand, a simple goddess did. She locked it away, but she fell in the process, broken. Our earliest members were priests of this goddess. They knew that to remember the entity’s name was to give it power, so to make people forget, they had to forget the goddess herself. She became known as the Shattered Goddess, only remembered by those who acted on her behalf.” Professor Joseph stopped, letting the silence linger.

When the hollowness was almost unbearable, he crooked a wicked grin. “Now you must be wondering why we still worship her. What blessings could a dead goddess give? Well, when she fell, she shattered into five shards, each a distilled, pure fragment of who she was.” The holo-displays showed a female outline wielding a blade against an entity of smoke, then falling and breaking into five crystal fragments.

“Many think she covered a wide range of domains because of titles like The First Mother and The Final Guide. But her fragments raise many questions. Each is powerful enough to be a goddess in their own right.” He began pacing, gesturing wildly.

The display zoomed in on a crystal with the symbol of a blade crossed over an eye. “The first is Her Fragment of the Warrior’s Eye. She rules over strategy, war, wisdom, courage, and honor.”

Next, a fragment with the symbol of a cracked crown. “Then came Her Fragment of the Fallen Lineage, who presides over magic, intelligence, wisdom, and sovereignty.”

The display moved to the next fragment, a flaming mechanical fist holding a hammer. “Next is Her Fragment of the Birthing Forge. She is a goddess of craftsmanship, her domains intelligence, innovation, architecture, and engineering.”

The next symbol was a set of blank, blind eyes crowned with seven stars. “Then there was Her Fragment of the Whispering Phantom, a goddess of spycraft. Her domains are intelligence, theft, secrets, lies, and truth.”

“Lastly is Her Fragment of the Beating Stillness. She presides over assassins, with domains of justice, vengeance, life, death, love, and hate.” The display showed an anatomically correct heart pierced by a dagger.

The lecture continued, covering the history of the Order. As it ended, we were told to get lunch before Mystagogue Kellennar would collect us. We all hurried out. I walked a little slower to fall to the rear of the pack.

Now I won’t lie. Anyone who has been bullied will have trouble with this next part, and I know plenty that will be upset with how I handled it. But you need to remember that the Iver back then was a timid and sensitive boy and not the Iver telling the story who would crack skulls if the need arose. But if you are willing to push through, I promise that things will get a lot more interesting.

The mess hall was a single-story structure with no windows. I passed through the front doors into a massive room filled with round tables. Along the right wall was a serving area. The walls were painted with murals dedicated to each of the five sects, with mounted monster heads in between.

I picked up a tray and was served a mess of runny mashed potatoes, a sad excuse for a biscuit, and a slab of some kind of meat by a Bear Vhenari. I gathered a glass of water and made my way to the furthest vacant table. I took a seat, ready to dig in, when several figures loomed over me. The Brightling and his crew. Before I could respond, my tray was flipped into my face, covering me with potatoes and gravy.

“How’s your meal, Freakshow?” mocked the Brightling. The others laughed.

“Nice one, Mallrimor,” came the Dracose.

“I d-didn’t do anything to you. Why single me out?” I asked.

Mallrimor flashed a wicked grin. “It is my duty as a son of the light to punish creatures like you.”

“B-but I’m not a creature. I’m not evil. I just want to be left in peace.”

“Peace? You? Everyone knows Darklings are the spawn of evil. If you don’t start trying to ruin people’s lives now, you will later. So it’s best to put you in your place now. You are not better than me, and you never will be.”

“I don’t want to be better. I just want to graduate and move on.”

“Well, we’re going to make sure you don’t graduate. And if I have my say, you will have a few accidents along the way,” Mallrimor proclaimed.

I stood and tried to press my way out of the semi-circle. The Orc and High Elf refused to let me pass. Then, the Elf stepped aside, stuck out his foot, and shoved me. I tripped and sprawled across the ground. Tears rose as the others laughed cruelly. “Nice move there, Gellar,” encouraged Mallrimor.

I scrambled to my feet and half-ran toward the restrooms. I slipped into the bathroom and did my best to clean myself off, ignoring the tears running down my cheeks. By the time I was done, lunch had just ended, and Mystagogue Kellennar was calling for the Slates to form up.

I got into formation, doing my best to ignore the snickering behind and beside me. Mallrimor stood right behind me, Gellar to my right. I already loathed my position and knew it was only going to get worse.

In formation, we marched toward a slightly smaller building emblazoned with the title ‘Foundry’. As we came to a halt, Kellennar told us we would enter one column at a time to receive our equipment.

When my turn came, I followed S18. As I passed into the Foundry, I knew I had found somewhere I’d be spending a lot of my free time. The inner walls were cinder blocks and concrete, displaying broken weapons above plaques detailing their history.

I stepped into a circular central chamber. I was quickly ushered into a room titled Cauldron 3. A Dracose girl, a Tier One student, met me at the door and, without preamble, tossed a grey rucksack at my face. I scrambled to catch it.

Her scales faded from deep royal purple to a dark scarlet ruby. Her hair was thick stocks of tendrils woven together and painted sapphire-cobalt at the tips.

She gestured for me to join her beside a table covered in boxed kits. She picked up a plastic case and clicked it open, displaying the contents. “This is your weapons maintenance kit. Do not lose it. You lose it, you die,” she spoke with a thick accent from the nation of Steel Cast. She shoved it into the bottom of the rucksack. The sack must have been six feet tall.

She shifted to the next table, picking up a clear plastic box with hygiene supplies. “Your hygiene supplies are to be replaced every five days at the dining hall.”

She moved on. The next table was laden with massive sword kits, designed so you could customize the weapon. This massive kit, my guide slipped into a pouch inside the sack. “This is your bladed weapons kit. If you break it, bring it back here. If you lose it, you die.”

And so on it went. I was given a pistol and rifle, an elemental handgun, a lance rifle, a soldering iron, a myst-welder, a book of runes for enchanting, a survival kit, an engraver kit, a thieves kit, an armor care kit, a bludgeoning weapons kit, and, for some odd reason, a taxidermy kit.

When I was loaded up, I turned to find another Tier One student staring at me, a Vhenari girl of the tiger breed. Most of her fur was silk-black, while her stripes and long, flowing hair were a fiery copper. Her just-as-fiery yellow eyes shone with interest.

I was so focused on her I failed to notice a grip on my tail. I felt a strong yank as I kept walking. My feet slipped out from under me, and I fell flat on my face, the rucksack flattening me. I heard a chortle from behind: Mallrimor.

I tried to push myself up, but the bag made me top-heavy. I managed to get on all fours, only to feel a hard kick to my ass, sending me sprawling again. Mallrimor’s amused chuckle bubbled as he circled me and headed out the door. I pulled myself to my feet and quickly made my way back, trying and failing to hold back tears.

The rest of the day was just as stressful. I got my therra-node and was instructed on how to use it. I got back to my room around five o’clock after a half-hearted dinner of limp veggies and dry meatloaf. I felt like I had a permanent hunch from the rucksack. I shambled up to my door and swiped my still-tender wrist over the scanner.

I dumped the bag on the floor and pulled a small, thin case from my breast pocket. I held the small black tin case and opened it gingerly. I looked on at the device within with reverence: a therra-node, model V, Valiant class.

After a long moment of admiration, I moved the small node to my right temple. When it was almost touching the circular plate, magnets took hold. The moment the device mounted, there was an audible click and a feeling like a static shock. Holograms popped into my field of view. A loading bar filled, replaced by a diagram of my body, layer by layer, stat by stat.

Skeletal Structure: Bone Density: 94% Checking for skeletal damage… None Found

Circulatory System: Blood Pressure: 100/85 White Blood Cell Level: Normal Checking for ruptures... None Found

Musculature: Muscle Density: Below Average Muscle Tensile Strength: Below Average

Nervous System: Reflex Reaction Time: Normal Synaptic Elasticity: Above Average Neuron Flash Time: Above Average Checking for damage… None Found

Endocrine System: Hormone Levels: Abnormal Chemical Levels: Abnormal

Mystwell: Mystwell Reservoir Capacity: (13) Below Average Myst Absorption Rate: 2 vp/min, Above Average Myst Channel Flow Rate: ERROR

I was confused by some of the readings. The lack of muscle was no shock. My nervous system stats were probably why I overthought so much. Digging into my endocrine readings, the holo-pages told me I was suffering from moderate depression, severe anxiety, and something simply labeled ‘Unknown’. The first two weren’t shocking. But ‘Unknown’ had me worried.

Next, my Mystwell. The below-average capacity wasn’t surprising; they had told me I had no magic talent when I was younger. But how could I have an above-average absorption rate if I didn’t even have an open channel? And the fact my flow rate read ‘ERROR’ instead of ‘N/A’ or ‘0’ gave me a reason for excessive worry.

Was I damaged somehow? Could I become a caster if I could fix this? Maybe with mystech? I would have to do some digging.

I tried surfing the LSN (Live Sigil Network), but a block notification explained I would only have access during class hours. I did have access to introductory text documents and training videos.

I pulled up a few diagrams and made my way to my bed. It was still a disaster. I balled up the sheets and began unpacking my bag, putting everything in its place. The weapons went onto the Black Rack.

Once all was put away, I curled up on my bed, gingerly fingering my new R.A.T. tail. I brushed my fingers along the perimeter of the Rear Access Terminal, slowly wrapping them around the retractable cable. I pulled the cord, feeling a rhythm of clicks as it extended. We were told it could stretch nine feet, but I wasn’t about to test that. I plugged the tail into a slot in the overhead panel above my bed. My sight vanished, and a strange sensation of falling in place took hold.

A new world came into existence. A world of blue and yellow lines forming strange shapes—programs. I floated in the air. I looked down at my hands to find my body appeared to be made of the same lines, only green, throbbing with sparks of light. Just as I was about to try moving, a cube of blue lines appeared before me with an audible pop. Yellow lines on its face formed a single word: “Tutorial.”