“Well? What did she need?” Shannon asked.
Eric sat down on the couch. “There are problems in Trok that Seraphine wants our help in dealing with, in time. Also, we may soon be approached by people trying to marry us into their families.”
This resulted in different reactions from everyone. Naomi sighed with recognition and seeming resignation, Shannon gasped, and Peter looked down at the floor and appeared to shut down.
“Don’t worry, we don’t have to,” Eric said in as reassuring a way as he could. “Just wanted to let you all know. But, rich people and nobles with a lot of political pull will probably push us towards it. However, we can also buy time, and elongate any dating if we just tell them that things go slower on Earth.” He looked to Peter pointedly and tapped his foot on the ground, right in Peter’s line of sight, to prompt the man to look up. “A wild guy like you wouldn’t want to get tied down, right?”
“Yeah, man.” Peter said halfheartedly, seemingly defeated. He looked out the window and then stood up, his voice lifting a little bit. “Oh hey, looks like the Butler is back. I’m going to help him carry those boxes.” Peter quickly left the room.
Naomi looked at Eric. “Well, I think I’m going to use my Components and make some stuff.”
She headed upstairs, with Shannon following a second later. “I want to watch. I can’t think about the possibility of getting approached for marriage.”
Eric leaned back into the couch cushions and once again went through his mental list of people he wanted to talk to at the soirée, and what he would need to say to each that would pique their curiosity. His conversation with the Index, well, Indedroma, was still fresh in his mind from the night prior and made planning difficult.
Oh, right, there will be gambling. I’ll need to set up my cover story for how I got so skilled at the game I’ll be playing. We should have a book on it in here, and I just need to make a few alterations.
He stood up, grabbed a book on gambling from the bookshelf, and absentmindedly thumbed through it. He found a page on strategies for a specific game that was a mix of chance and strategy. He ripped it out, crumpled it, and incinerated it with a little burst of Blackflame from his fingertip. Then, he snapped the book shut and put it back onto the shelf.
He headed downstairs and set to cooking up a simple soup base. “Index, I have a question.”
[Go ahead.]
The response had been Indedroma’s voice. “Well now I have two. Why do I hear—” Eric stopped himself.
Right. Can’t say it aloud in case others are listening in. Why do I hear your voice now in The Paths’ announcements? I figured it would just be the usual mana construct, and not you.
[I’ll be replacing the mana construct—most of the time, at least. However, I cannot talk to you unless you indicate you wish to with Index commands.]
Right. Okay. Next question—
[Why is Blackflame Mage unique, aside from the fact that it is a primal force?] came Indedroma’s voice, interrupting his thoughts.
Yes, that’s the question I had.
[That is what makes it unique: the fact that it is primal force. I figured that would be obvious.]
To his surprise, her voice sounded irritated.
Is the Class associated with Blackflame a Mage by default? Or could it be something else?
[Primal forces, if bound to a strong will, mold themselves to a person’s inner desire or most aligned framework. Martial versus magic. In your case, your past timeline as a Healing Mage made the determination easy. You were a Mage, you had the most experience in that style of Class, therefore the primal force molded itself to that.]
“Thanks, Index. Close.” Eric continued his task in the kitchen and, after setting the soup base aside to cool, headed upstairs.
He almost stumbled into Benson and Peter, who were standing close to each other in the hallway. Benson seemed flustered, but was blushing in a good way, and Peter was being his cocky, confident self that Eric knew so well from the last timeline, given how he’d pushed his bravado and machismo down everyone’s throats for years before finally coming out.
However, the conversation between the two men was awkward. They were two people who were into each other but didn’t know if the other was into them, and were just trying to be appropriate and cordial until they felt it out. Eric had seen it dozens of times in his past timeline, between apprentices in their late teens and early twenties. They were very much attracted to one another, but afraid to make a disastrous first move. It was, quite frankly, annoying, and he just wanted them to get it over with.
Okay, time to play matchmaker.
“Hey there,” Eric said, drawing both men’s attention. “Mind if I ask Benson a few things?”
Peter frowned, but shrugged. “Sure, man. I was just talking to him about sports here, that's all.” He headed down the hallway and into the lounge.
Benson spoke. “Urm . . . Blackflame Mage Mercer—”
“I’ve told you, just Eric is fine here.”
Benson chuckled and pulled his collar away from his neck. “I . . . urm . . . what you saw—”
Eric shook his head and whispered. “I can read you like a book. You like him?” Benson froze, then almost imperceptibly nodded. Eric continued, “Stop dancing around the issue and make a move.”
“I was feeling out the situation—”
Eric cut him off, “Just go up to him, say you like him, and invite him to your chambers already. Watching you two try and flirt is so awkward. Just kiss him already. He’s into you too. Just go for it, make that first move, get plowed, have a good time.” He patted Benson on the shoulder. “Trust me. Peter is absolutely into you. Just go for it.”
Benson’s face went flush, and he looked down at the floor. “Erm . . . sure.”
Eric slipped past Benson and headed outside, where he took in a deep breath of the crisp air.
Mission accomplished. Hopefully, that’ll keep Peter’s interest up here on the surface, and he won’t go dive-crazy. He’ll have something important to come back to.
He saw the group of etiquette trainers approaching the gate and being let in by the guards. “Here we go,” he muttered under his breath, “time for some culture.”
He mentally prepared for a long, boring day.
The entire afternoon toward the evening was spent in various rooms of the estate, one-on-one with a trainer. Eric was paired with a middle-aged man who had an exquisite mustache that was perfectly oiled and curled.
Portraying himself as a newly arrived Summoned was difficult, as Eric had to fight years of instincts as he went through various tasks under the watching eyes of an expert in culture and proper presentation.
During a simple exercise that was meant to demonstrate the proper way to carry food across a room while conversing and eating, as one would do in between meals throughout the coming party, Eric elected to amplify his ruse by dropping a plate, letting the loud crash reverberate across the room, much to the consternation and ‘harrumphs’ of his tutor.
It was a stressful few hours. Not because Eric was worried about meeting expectations, but rather he had to make sure he didn’t go beyond them. Proper bows and movements were easy enough, but one part that would be tricky to get used to was how to correctly address one another. It had been so long since he had been amongst the highest of high nobility that the customary introductions and greetings that would be expected of him were something he would have to actively remember to follow. They didn’t come to him second-nature like the bows did.
In fact, the proper form of conversation in Elyndor outside of family gatherings or specifically designated group meetings was to converse one-on-one to prevent the need to restate the Class name over and over again. At the party, Eric would have to choose his social targets wisely, as he only had a certain amount of time between events to interact with these people and didn’t want to waste time saying titles repeatedly.
It was irritating, to say the least, and reinforced the fact that he needed Peter and Shannon on board. He had to inform them to some extent about the events of the future. Eric wouldn’t be able to speak with everyone he would need to.
The day ended with the tutors departing before dinner, and after a delicious meal of a roasted chicken-like creature called a grevtiral, augmented by a side dish of Eric’s soup, the group of Summoned went to relax in different ways.
Naomi moved outside to the separate workshop, Shannon headed outside to stargaze, and Peter went downstairs to help Benson with the dishes.
Eric walked outside and looked out at the capital as he often used to. The darkening night sky cast the world into gorgeous purples and blacks as the twinkling stars poked through. He was thinking about the best way to approach Shannon and Peter, respectively, and what exactly to say to each of them, when his thoughts were interrupted.
“Blackflame Mage Mercer!” one of the guards at the gates shouted. “You have a package and a visitor!”
Eric walked over and spotted Darius outside the gates, holding a brown sackcloth. He was dressed in scuffed and mended clothing that once would have been the height of fashion but now looked like secondhand garments a wannabe noble would wear. Darius was next to one of the guards, being held at bay just behind one of the lowered spears.
“Can we allow him in?” Eric asked.
The guards looked at each other, and the one who had spoken shrugged. “He must be searched, we’ll take down his name and contact information, and he must expend all of his Sigils as well. But otherwise—”
“That’s fine,” Darius replied as he set the bag down and held his arms out to his sides. “Someone like me doesn’t carry weapons.” The guards quickly searched him, looked inside the bag, and handed it back to him. He then held up his left hand, and Eric saw ninety-five Sigils rapidly flash out of existence, leaving a bare hand. “I am Darius Dromond, and I run D’s Diablerie down in The Consortium Concourse.”
“All clear, Blackflame Mage Mercer.” The guard opened the gate for Darius and let him enter. “I recognize the name. He’s just an Artisan.”
Not like the weapon search would help much, Eric thought. Darius can still kill me if he has a mind to. The weapon search is just to cover your asses. There’s no way to stop someone from using Rotes. Neither of you has any clue what he is really capable of.
That was one downside of life on Elyndor. Anyone with a Combat Class was potentially a deadly threat with access to a damage-dealing Rote, and outside of dressing like one’s Class, there was no way to tell what category of Class a person belonged to. There were some mana-draining items that existed on Elyndor, but those were exceptionally rare, and Eric had only come across one such item in his entire prior timeline.
These king’s guards were being incredibly stupid, and Eric couldn’t help but wonder if someone had perhaps paid them off to allow for the lax security. But then he spotted a glimmer in their eyes—a slight red hue, reflected as if they had their photo taken and the glow persisted.
Ah, of course Darius used something like that.
Elyndor itself had no type of Skills or Rotes that interacted with mental manipulation. Darius’ Demonologist Class, however, did not originally come from Elyndor. It was inspired by and crafted from an experience of another reality that the man had in a wild dungeon. Therefore, it slightly broke the usual rules. Darius used a mind-altering effect, a type of domination, to prevent the guards from accompanying him onto the estate grounds.
Darius walked up to Eric, displaying a curious, thin smile. “Is there somewhere we can talk quietly?”
“Yes,” Eric replied. He gestured for Darius to follow him as he headed to his bedroom.
Once the door was shut, Darius reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver disc. He set it down on the ground and touched it. Eric spotted the grey of the mana surging into the device, and a thrum of energy tickled his ears before a burst of grey light emanated out to completely outline the room’s interior. It left the room in greyscale, which was quite interesting—even in his previous life, Eric had never seen mana have that effect.
“Now that we have some privacy, let’s talk openly,” Darius said. His face was stern, and he focused intently on Eric’s eyes.
“Nice trick with the mental manipulation,” Eric replied. “That little red glow in their eyes?” He chuckled. “You should be lucky I’m the only one on the street who saw that. You shouldn’t be that overt with Devil’s Diversion. If Elyndians learned that your Class allowed for that, well, I don’t think that you would be safe anymore.”
Darius’ visage visible darkened, as if a shadow crossed his entire face. “How in the depths do you know that?”
Okay, Eric thought with a little trepidation, here we go.
Eric took a deep breath, then calmly said, “You had a wife and child. Shera and Kira. They both were killed when a monster broke out of a wild dungeon being farmed, and attacked your village—”
Darius’ face contorted into one of sheer rage. He stepped up to Eric with incredible speed and grabbed him by the collar, lifting him easily with strength belying his form. “How in darkest abyssal circles do you know that?”
“I’ll tell you everything,” Eric replied as he kept limp to show he wasn’t a threat. “But what you have to know is that I am from the future. A future where the world ended—a future timeline that doesn’t exist anymore. We were friends. You called me your best friend, and I valued you as mine.”
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Darius kept him in the air. “Continue talking.” His voice was a low, guttural growl. Eric could tell his curiosity was piqued, as the man hadn’t used a Rote to transform his body into that of a demonic entity that could rend him asunder, and hadn’t obliterated him with hellfire. Eric was alive, and that meant Darius was invested.
“I am from a future that came to pass. In that timeline I was a Healing Mage, then a Barrier Mage, and finally a special, hidden Warden Class called an Exarch. You made all of my gear. We used to drink worldspine root tea together in that orchard you brought your wife to. You talked about her favorite flower—white lilies—and how Kira loved to climb the tree and try to drop apples on you two.”
Darius’ face went white with shock as he dropped Eric, who regained his footing. Darius’ voice was barely a whisper as he said, “It . . . there’s no way . . . I’ve tried meddling with time! Nothing can interact with it. No one can!”
Eric went and grabbed the desk chair, dragged it over, and sat on it. He gestured for Darius to sit on the bed, which the man did, still looking numb. “I don’t know how it worked,” Eric said. “I have a bit of information about the process that got me here. Index?”
[Hmm?]
“Was I—”
Darius cut him off. “Wait. Wait a fucking moment.” His eyes narrowed, and he grimaced. “Indedroma, why can I hear you in my head right now?”
[Three-way conversation. It will be easier that way.]
Eric was taken aback at that. He had no clue that The Paths mana constructs could interface with multiple people at once. Then again, this wasn’t just some mana construct. Indedroma was the controlling entity within The Paths. She could probably do things that the mana constructs could not.
Darius spoke again, and he sounded frustrated, “How can he talk to you?” He pointed at Eric. “There’s no way he is already a high enough level to talk to you.”
“Primal force holders and time travelers get a workaround,” Eric explained. “And I know that you can talk to her since I know you are level nine-hundred and fifty-three.”
[He is right. Darius, you’ve kept yourself from opening up to me for some time. How have you been?]
“Shut it, you big phantasmal lizard.” Darius sounded more annoyed than upset.
Eric ignored the two bantering and interrupted. “Indedroma, I had a thought. The version of you in the future, the timeline I came from, it had the same preservation instinct as this version of you, correct?”
[Yes. Giving my life to create The Paths made me immortal, as long as the world is intact and mana flows. Future me in that now-erased timeline had a hand in sending you back to this earlier point in the timeline—aka now. It was the best chance to fix things, given the tools at future me’s disposal.]
Eric looked at Darius, but also tried to imagine a dragon sitting on the bed next to him, a mental stand-in for the Index.
To his satisfaction, the outline of a dragon—a little one the size of a lap dog—appeared just as a message from The Paths would. Pink, glowing, and regal, styled after an Earth-like western dragon from fantasy novels. Eric replied, “I believe you said I was the only viable person around.”
[Correct. My best guess is that at the moment of Elyndor’s destruction, for a single, brief, fleeting instant, future me had full control of all remaining mana on the planet. And for that single second, future me was able to direct all of it to send a message back in time to past me. That message went through The Paths itself, and future me used your consciousness, your memory recall, as a tethering point. Your Paths Within became the focus that everything was condensed down into. When that occurred, that future ceased to be. This is a fresh start to prevent the apocalypse.]
She sighed, and the phantasmal representation of her swished her tail and hung her head low.
[Hopefully, we do not have to re-do it again, and again, and . . . well, you get the point. Time loops are a bitch to deal with. I can guarantee you we aren’t in one right now, since every iteration of future me would keep using you, Eric, as the tethering point, and keep embedding messages to each other within that node of your Paths Within.]
Darius stared intently at Eric, and his breathing was calm. The color had returned to his face, and his tone was steady. “If you were really my best friend, and you intend to be my ally on this . . . second chance at your life, tell me everything. I never mastered the Paths Within thanks to my Class and its urges, otherwise I’d ask you to let me delve into your memories myself.”
Eric took a deep breath and gave a full rundown, not holding anything back: his previous life in a quick synopsis, the Titan’s wrath, his death and regression, all his actions thus far to set himself up as a messianic figure, and the theory about the Titan and Ley Lines that Indedroma confirmed. He left nothing out, and thirty minutes passed before Eric finally stopped talking.
Darius had gone through a range of emotions as Eric spoke over the course of an hour, but he had eventually settled on grim determination. “I didn’t want to believe you at first, but the details are too precise. The information you provided, particularly in regard to our jaunts through that demonic realm I can access for rapid transportation . . .”
Darius stood and walked to the window, staring out at the cliff face. “We have fourteen years, according to her message. I will set to work learning and investigating. I have resources at my disposal. A lot of them. And contacts." Darius turned to face Eric. "Seems like I can’t hide as an Artificer anymore and just sit in my retirement hole, cozying up to books. The world needs saving, like you said. Time for the Demonologist, hero and once savior, to make a comeback.”
Eric stood up and held out his hand. Darius looked down for a moment, then shook. “You’re a good man, Darius. I hope we rekindle our friendship on this second go-around.”
Darius smiled. “I’d like that, I think. It’s been a while since I’ve had a good friend.” There was a flicker of sorrow, and hope that crossed his face. “I mean that. It’s been too long.”
Eric replied, “While you’re researching, the other Summoned and I will be working on growing in power and stabilizing Trok from threats within. When you have actionable intelligence and we are strong enough to actually act on it, we will.”
Darius held up a finger, went to his sack, and produced a tightly wrapped bundle. He then returned and handed it to Eric. “Open this.”
Eric felt like a kid on Christmas, because any piece of gear made by Darius was bound to be useful to a Mage. He ripped open the packaging and held up the object within. It was a simple magic item, but one he was intimately familiar with.
[Gear Acquired: T1 Deflection Matrix.]
Eric slipped it onto his already-gloved left hand. It was a silver bracelet that wrapped around the wrist and had a cuff that attached higher up at the forearm, just below the elbow; it also had a few small chains connected to rings that went onto his index and middle fingers.
“I see you’ve used one before,” Darius said with a smirk. “And my design, no less.”
“I have,” Eric replied with a grin. “I always preferred your design. It’s a lot harder to remove in a fight.” He pushed a bit of mana into the object, and a one-foot-radius shield appeared just above the back of the same hand.
It was a great defensive tool: lightweight and the perfect barrier for a Mage to have on hand, as it was weightless and didn’t prevent ambient mana from flowing toward him. The mana cost was miniscule, and could be committed to as if a toggled Rote, so he could manifest it at the start of a dungeon and keep it active the whole time without risking it deactivating. The downside was that it was brittle, only able to take one or two hits before breaking and needing to be re-formed. “Thanks, Darius.”
“You did pay for it,” Darius replied with a smile. Then, that smile vanished and his face became serious again. “You had mentioned something about a primal force, as well. I had some thoughts on that, and I got some extra insight from a friend in another realm.”
Eric frowned. “You’re back to making deals with arch demons? You told me the last time you did that, you lost your sense of taste permanently, and you had to engage in a risky game of print-tal to get it back. Good thing you had me around to help you out that time. You always sucked at the second round of the game.”
Darius frowned. “We must’ve been extremely close if we gambled together in that reality against an arch demon. Anyway, he told me that primal forces are fundamental powers of creation. Elyndor has ten, each one coinciding with a specific Class-type. Other realities have differing amounts, depending on how complex their creation was. It’s one reason why mental manipulation doesn’t exist within The Paths by default: there is no primal force coinciding with that concept.”
Eric pondered that for a moment, then replied, “Interesting. And that’s good to know. Now to theorize: Exarch from my last timeline couldn't be the Warden-type, even though Self-Resurrection sounds like something that a primal force would have in its wheelhouse. It must be something else. Perhaps the naming scheme has something to do with it? Blackflame is just the prefix, and then the Class is appended onto it? Perhaps that is the naming schema for all of them.”
[REDACTED.]
Darius sighed and muttered under his breath, “Fucking useless lizard.”
[Hey. I can hear you, you know.]
Darius rolled his eyes and scooped the silver disc off the floor, then handed it to Eric. “This will help keep people from listening in. It only applies to a room up to twenty-five feet across on all sides. Also, the room has to be closed up—mostly—otherwise it will stop working. A gap under a door or a cracked window won’t stop it from preventing noise from escaping.”
Darius walked over to the door and opened it, and the greyscale aura lining the room faded. Eric had to blink a few times before the colors returned to the world. “We’ll talk at another time, Blackflame Mage Mercer,” Darius continued. “I will investigate as you have asked. Focus on increasing your power and fixing what you can. Whenever you have Components or Dungeon Cores, bring them to me for your Mage-specific gear. I have an apprentice who can help if I’m not at the shop; he holds down the fort, as it were, and he is very discreet.” With that said, Darius waved and departed.
Eric let out a deep breath.
“Index, goodnight.” Eric put the chair back before examining the silver disc closely.
[Gear Acquired: T1 Silence Node.]
Eric departed his bedroom, went to Naomi’s room, and rapped his knuckles on the door frame. He heard nothing from within and slowly opened the door.
Must be in the workshop, he thought upon not seeing her.
He headed to Shannon’s room and didn’t find her either. “Where is everyone?” he muttered aloud.
A second later, he heard loud noises downstairs, which sounded like doors being slammed, and quickly hurried down. He stopped on the main floor as grunts and moans reached his ears from further down.
Oh. Alright, I guess we can fill Peter in another time. I wonder if he’ll try to keep his whole thing with Benson on the down-low, or if he’ll be open about his preferences. Meh. Either way, I did my job. Peter has someone to come home to after each dungeon dive. Hopefully, that keeps him from going dive-crazy. Have fun, Peter.
Eric went outside and called up to the roof, “Shannon? You up there?”
Her head poked over the edge, and she gave him a thumbs-up. “Yup!”
“Can we talk?”
“Wanna come up here?”
“I’d rather not climb and risk breaking my neck. Your Class is a lot more suited to climbing than mine.” He chuckled. “I’m a bit clumsy when it comes to climbing. When I was a kid I slipped on the playground jungle gym and broke my ankle. I really don’t want to do that before we have a party.”
Shannon swung over the edge and grabbed one of the poles that supported the roof and provided an overhang for the second-floor balconies. She landed lightly on her feet on the ground in front of him. “What’s up?”
“Let’s go visit Naomi, there’s something I want to talk about.” Eric led the way, and soon enough, the two were entering the workshop on the other side of the estate.
Naomi was hard at work, her hands dancing on invisible keyboards as screens only she could see consumed her vision. The Components on the table before her were in varying stages of processing and being turned into gear. Some of the bits of metal were elongated and smoothed, some were twisted and warped, and a few looked like they were being blended together in some odd animation program.
“Hey!” Shannon said.
Naomi looked at the two of them and lowered her arms; the green glow in her eyes faded. “What’s up?”
Eric glanced back at Shannon. “Close the door.” He pulled out the Silence Node and placed it on the table, activating it. A burst of black-and-white mana surged out from the device to line the room, turning the whole place into greyscale. Shannon jumped back from the now-closed door, but Naomi just raised an eyebrow. “Silence Node,” he told them. He looked at Shannon and grabbed her hand, gently squeezing it. “We have a lot to talk about . . . I’ve been keeping something secret from you and Peter. I don’t want to keep it secret anymore, and you deserve to hear the truth.”
Eric had contemplated upon exactly what he was going to share with her, and he had landed on what to him was the most reasonable: he was going to tell her about his death in the future timeline, his regression, the truth of him playing up the big brother role while pushing the fact that he was intentionally trying to build a sincere bond with her, and that he needed her help to save the world.
Shannon took the news surprisingly well. Her biggest question throughout the entire run-down was what had happened to her in the past timeline, which Eric was woefully unprepared to answer, as he had no clue. They hadn’t really socialized much in the intervening time between their arrival and the war, and she had vanished after the war had broken out.
Once the tale had concluded, Shannon took a deep breath. “That’s a lot . . . but I understand.” She turned away for a few seconds, paced to the far end of the workshop, then paced back and faced Eric. “You asshole! I should kick you in the shin!”
“I probably deserve that.” He held out his leg. “Go ahead, I’ll take my lumps.”
She looked down, looked back up at him, and let loose with a kick. Eric winced, but held firm. Shannon said, “Playing up the big brother role just to get me on your side? You definitely deserved that!”
Naomi pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Shannon—”
“No! Don’t ‘Shannon’ me,” the True Stalker said, turning on Naomi. “I understand what Eric said and why he did it, but I can still be pissed off about it!”
Eric shook his head, ignoring the pain in his calf. “I told you all of this because I trust you. I could have kept it all secret, kept it to myself . . . but we need to do better this time.”
He moved his hand to clasp hers, but she slapped it away. It wasn’t a harsh slap, but more of a reaction. “I want us to be friends,” Eric said. “Real, actual friends. I need your help to save the world.”
“I said I understood,” Shannon replied in exasperation. “Why should I trust you now? Now that you’ve told me that you’re not who you say you are, that you’ve been lying—kind of lying this whole time? Jesus Christ, I’ve only just met you a few days ago!”
Naomi raised her voice in an admonishing way, as if she was used to speaking down to a younger woman. “Shannon!”
“What?!” she replied, turning to face the genius inventor.
“He could have kept you in the dark forever. We could’ve kept silent on this—”
“You knew too?” Shannon replied.
“I was the first one he told,” Naomi replied. “I had already put the clues together about him acting weird, like a native of this world.”
Shannon looked at Eric. “You asshole! You told her, but kept me and Peter in the dark?”
“That’s enough,” Eric forcefully replied. “Get ahold of your emotions, girl.”
“Girl?” Shannon said, taken aback. “What am I to you? Some child?”
“I’m thirty-fucking-three, so yes, you’re a child to me,” Eric replied. He turned away and sighed, taking a deep breath to compose himself, then turned back. He backed up to the wall and leaned against it.
Damnit, he thought. I might have just torpedoed all the progress I had made in building any type of friendly relationship with her with that single comment. I know she has father issues, and I bet I just reminded her of that with my words.
Shannon backed away, toward Naomi.
Naomi softly said, “Think about this logically. What would you do in Eric’s shoes?”
Eric followed up, speaking in a low, calm voice. “What would you do in my position? I had knowledge, and I chose to use it. If it came down to your comfort versus saving the whole world, what would you choose?”
Shannon went quiet at that, and her breathing slowly began to relax. Finally, several seconds later, she calmed down. “I . . .” The tension left her shoulders, and she sagged onto Naomi’s workbench, leaning against it. “I can’t say I’d do anything different.”
Naomi gently put a hand on her shoulder. “All four of us are stuck here on Elyndor. We’re in this together. If the world explodes, we all die. I know forgiving Eric is going to take a while, and you might not trust him for a while—maybe not ever again. . . but he was trying to do what’s best for everyone.”
“Like I said,” Eric added softly, “I didn’t know you very well last time. We weren’t close. But I want to be friends this time. I want us all to be friends. Real, actual friends. No lying, no manipulation, none of that. I can only say I’m sorry, and promise that I will treat you as an equal from here forward. No more secrets, no more lies.” He stared at Shannon until her green gaze met his eyes. “I swear it on the Ley Lines below, The Index within, and the creator wherever he may be.”
Shannon leaned into Naomi and let out an exhausted sigh. “I . . . it’s a lot to process.” She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, Eric spotted that small spark of resolve he had hoped to see. “I don’t want the world to blow up while I’m on it. I don’t want to burn bridges. You have to earn my trust back, Eric, but for now I’m on board with whatever plan Naomi cooks up. Hear that? What Naomi comes up with. She’s the smart one, after all.”
“Agreed there,” Eric said as he chuckled. “Her intelligence blows mine out of the water.”
“Glad we all agree I’m the biggest brain in the room,” Naomi replied. “Now we have to tell Peter.”
Eric grimaced. “Maybe tomorrow. He sounded like he was busy with Benson.”
Shannon smiled weakly. “Called it. Putting on that macho personality. The guy was way overcompensating. . . Oh wait, that’s why you asked Seraphine what you did. . .”
She gave Eric a little thumbs-up. “Good job getting Peter to break character. He’ll be better for it. It must be so freeing for him, not having to hide who he was anymore since no one around here will judge him for it. Plus, no family to disappoint.” She lowered her arm and frowned. “That’s one point, one little point of trust back. You did something nice for Peter. But you have a lot of work you’ll need to do to get back my full trust. Got it?”
“Understood,” Eric replied. “You only just met me a few days ago, and you learned earth-shattering revelations. I completely understand, and can only thank you for giving me a second chance. We’ll save the world together.”
“Yes, all interesting,” Naomi said, “but we have other things to work on.” She gestured to the Components on the table with a sweeping hand. “I’m working on manatech, which is just the catchall term they use here on Elyndor for any new technology that is barely understood except by those who make or maintain it.” She sighed. “I really need to just pipe raw mana into the workshop here, so I have easier access to it. I’d love to get a little arc welder up and running. We need more Components, or money to buy Components.”
Shannon said, “You could always marry someone at this party.”
Naomi made a disgusted face. “Eww, no. I’m ace. Computers were my love.” She picked up a Component. “Now I guess inventing is my new love. Unless I invent a mana-based computer.” She looked at Eric expectantly.
“Not that I’m aware of, but we were just acquaintances,” Eric replied. “You could have had a mana-powered supercomputer for all I know.” He stood up. “Before you go to bed tonight, I need to start teaching you this mana channel massage technique. It will help you sleep easier, but also improve your mana reservoir.”
Since getting higher up on the Rising Stars (All) list, the story has taken a few ratings hits. That's a shot to the gut right there, a big wallop to the ego, for sure.
If you're a fan of a story, any story, please show it some love. Less than 20% of followers and around 10% of readers bother to rate the stories they read, so those 0.5 and 1-star ratings really drag down the average.
And now, for the super fun, allowed by the terms-of-service incentives (yes, this is allowed, I have done it before with moderator permission on another fiction). I am going to be commissioning artwork! I had already planned to commission art, but you all can help decide what it is that gets commissioned! All you need to do is meet certain thresholds of Reviews! When I say "Reviews" , it is a combination of both regular and advanced. On the 'back end' of the Author Dashboard, I get a cumulative readout, so that's what I'm looking at for the 'review count' I'm using to evaluate the thresholds.
Threshold #1 - 20 Reviews = Poll to determine which 'Action Scene' I commission from the fantastic For samples of some of his work he has done for me, look and
Threshold #2 - 30 Reviews = I will commission a 'group portrait' of the Summoned from the fantastic ! You can see some of the work she has done for me , and . I hadn't planned on a group portrait, but I figured I'd toss this 'in-between' as a fun midway point. I'm also going to put up a poll as to whether the 'group portrait' will be them in their soirée attire, or their Twilight Depths dungeon gear.
Threshold #3 - 50 Reviews = Poll to determine which 'soirée interaction' I commission (the sub-plot romance interests Eric has, which appear in Chapters 23 and 24, respectively, which are coming up soon on a triple-chapter-drop day!). I am still looking for an artist to do this one, as I need to figure out a style that fits what I'm looking for.
Review Count as of 2/25/26 @ 7:50 p.m. PST = 12 out of 20
To be clear, I am not asking you to do a '5-star review' (unless you think the story deserves 5 stars). These need to be honest reviews. Give the story the review you think it deserves. Be honest. I love to hear your feedback and grow as a writer from your criticism. If you do lean into the territory of 'harsher' criticism, I would ask that you try to frame it constructively. Being negative just to be negative doesn't help my growth as an author at all.
You should not be making new accounts to make reviews to meet these thresholds. That breaks terms-of-service, and can get both you and me in a ton of trouble. So please, do not do that!