LunaWolve

[TAS Art Release] Christmas / Holiday Wishes

EDIT (29/12/25): 

Update for all y'all lovely people:

I'll have to move back the return-to-regular-schedule by a week.

I have, once again, underestimated how thoroughly exhausting social gatherings are when it comes to Christmas and the holiday season in general, particularly in regards to my own physical health.

I woke up with a damn fever, scratchy throat and coughs today, as somebody in my extended family CLEARLY did not care to stay home so everyone else could have a healthy holiday time :SeraRee: 

I'll continue editing, as well as starting to write the chapters for the releases next week, so Fixers and Wolf Lords should see at least one chapter pop up in their inboxes within the next few days.

*For TAS readers specifically*: I'm currently editing the Prologue and have finished a batch of chapters. I will soon be updating the first 10 chapters of TAS on RoyalRoad, so if you're one of those people that likes to do before<>after comparisons, please re-read those chapters in the next few days (it's not worth it; the new ones are straight upgrades and remove practically nothing; you're seriously wasting your time, but I figured you'd want the headsup either way).

That's all for today, enjoy the rest of your holiday time and have a great start into 2026!

TL;DR: *Return to regular schedule on 5th / 6th January for ND / TAS respectively.*

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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Wishing all y'all a wonderful christmas time and holiday season from Germany (we celebrate on the 24th, which means, TODAY!)

I hope y'all will fill yourselves up on a ton of warmth and happiness from your loved ones, as well as delicious, delicious food, as I'm pretty sure that's what the holiday season is meant to be for.

I bring bearing gifts in the form of your annual Christmas Art release!

The SFW version will also be linked in the usual #TAS-Fan-Art channel in the coming hours (whenever I find the time to upload and pin it during christmas dinner).

The NSFW version is only available here on Patreon for you fine folk.

DO NOTE: This year's NSFW version is actually proper NSFW this time around; not merely slightly spicier. You have been warned.

(For those wondering where Desmond is, he doesn't have a Character Ref Sheet yet for the artists to work with. It's on the docket in the future. For now, just assume he's the one making the picture.)

I'll see you guys on the next chapter release.

Up until then, stay safe, stay satiated and stay happy!

[ND Art Release] Christmas / Holiday Wishes

EDIT (29/12/25): 

Update for all y'all lovely people:

I'll have to move back the return-to-regular-schedule by a week.

I have, once again, underestimated how thoroughly exhausting social gatherings are when it comes to Christmas and the holiday season in general, particularly in regards to my own physical health.

I woke up with a damn fever, scratchy throat and coughs today, as somebody in my extended family CLEARLY did not care to stay home so everyone else could have a healthy holiday time :SeraRee: 

I'll continue editing, as well as starting to write the chapters for the releases next week, so Fixers and Wolf Lords should see at least one chapter pop up in their inboxes within the next few days.

*For TAS readers specifically*: I'm currently editing the Prologue and have finished a batch of chapters. I will soon be updating the first 10 chapters of TAS on RoyalRoad, so if you're one of those people that likes to do before<>after comparisons, please re-read those chapters in the next few days (it's not worth it; the new ones are straight upgrades and remove practically nothing; you're seriously wasting your time, but I figured you'd want the headsup either way).

That's all for today, enjoy the rest of your holiday time and have a great start into 2026!

TL;DR: *Return to regular schedule on 5th / 6th January for ND / TAS respectively.*

=========

=========

Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Wishing all y'all a wonderful christmas time and holiday season from Germany (we celebrate on the 24th, which means, TODAY!)

I hope y'all will fill yourselves up on a ton of warmth and happiness from your loved ones, as well as delicious, delicious food, as I'm pretty sure that's what the holiday season is meant to be for.

I bring bearing gifts in the form of your annual Christmas Art release!

The SFW version will also be linked in the usual #ND-Fan-Art channel in the coming hours (whenever I find the time to upload and pin it during christmas dinner).

The Spicy version is only available here on Patreon for you find folk.

This year's ND Christmas Art is Uma Musume inspired, so our favourite girls are wearing Uma Christmas outfits to celebrate the occasion (cause they're super cute!)

I'll see you guys on the next chapter release.

Up until then, stay safe, stay satiated and stay happy!

[TAS] Volume 2 - Chapter 63 - Tech Talk

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Volume 2 - Interlude 59.5: Orbit has just released on RR with no changes except for the Title now having a number.

For the Wolf Lords, this chapter has seen no changes.

And also: Please do not read the chapters here on Patreon, but go for the googledoc, .pdf or .epub instead. Patreon butchers all forms of formatting and you're missing out on easier and more enjoyable reading experiences.

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REMINDER: NEXT WEEK IS ADMIN WEEK!

We will be back with more TAS on December 30th.

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By god, this one was tough to write.

I tried so hard to make it engaging, informative and still cover a lot of TIME, specifically. I hope I managed it... It ended up a bit longer than planned, but I couldn't figure out how to make it work any other way.

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I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is the link to the chapter:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1OLiw4yPAsjlf37pKWhP30J-ArsTcY5lJa-firBm_w-c/edit?usp=sharing

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Volume 2 - Chapter 63 - Tech Talk

“JOIN THE FRONTLINE BEHIND THE FRONTLINE”

Titan Forge Salvage & Recovery Needs YOU

Are you strong, steady on your feet, and ready to put your back into something that truly matters? Titan Forge Salvage & Recovery is expanding its workforce once again and is officially looking to hire more able-bodied workers—preferably with exo-suit or exo-loader experience, but not required!—to support ongoing reclamation efforts across the entire UHF space.

As every citizen knows, our brave UHF Marines, Navy, Armoured Division, and countless other branches fight day and night to protect our borders and push back the tyrannical Factions that threaten our way of life. 

But their victories come with a steep, steep cost—spent munitions, lost weapons and armour, damaged vehicles and hulls, wrecked local infrastructure, and, most importantly of all, truly valuable materials scattered across the burnt out husks of the battlefields they leave behind.

That’s where YOU come in.

Titan Forge S&R works hand-in-hand with the UHF to reclaim these valuable battlefield resources the moment the fighting ends, ensuring our Forces can continue to fight sustainably and strategically for dozens of years to come.

Every crate recovered, every armor plate hauled, every ship part salvaged keeps our military heroes running at maximum efficiency. Without us, there would be no “Miracle of Onlan”, no “Hold at Sina Prime”, no “Conquest of Falsien”, for there would be no resources to sustain these major defensive and offensive operations!

Now, be aware: This is not easy work—long shifts, harsh environments, and long months or even years away from home—but the reward is nothing short of life-changing. 

With hazard pay, supply-line bonuses, high-tier field stipends, and the super-rare chance of stumbling onto a legendary-grade find that could make you into planetary governor overnight wealth-wise, a single deployment has the potential to lift your entire family to Core-World living standards by the time you return.

What We’re Looking For:

• Strong physical condition (preferred, not required)

• Experience with exo-suits, exo-loaders, lift-frames, or heavy machinery (preferred, not required)

• Ability to work long, physical hours in high-stress or hazardous environments
  

• Willingness to relocate for upwards of six months, potentially for several years to forward headquarters to be closer to the action.
  

• A patriotic desire to support the men and women on the frontlines (preferred, not required—even non-patriotic salvage is good salvage!)

What You’ll Get:

• Great pay with full hazard compensation

• Housing and meals provided for all deployments

• Top-tier medical coverage through Titan Forge’s “Unified Wellness” Program, fully covering limb replacements, skin grafts and dental (Terms & Conditions apply)

• A sense of pride knowing you keep our Marines supplied, our fleets repaired, and our borders expanding

Stand with the UHF Military—by helping rebuild and reclaim what they have to burn down for all of our survival.

Apply today at your nearest Titan Forge Recruitment Office!

A message from: Titan Forge Salvage & Recovery — “One Faction’s trash…”

—

[UHF Galactic Bulletin – Sector-Wide Job Posting, Titan Forge Salvage & Recovery, PFC940]

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Thea hadn’t been this blissfully content and excited in a long time—if ever.

She and Peria had spent the last two hours going over the design sheets—the original design sheets!—of the Gram, which the weapons clerk had somehow managed to secure just for this meeting.

‘Peria is the fucking best,’ Thea thought to herself once more as she marvelled at the lengthy and in-depth array of schematics in front of her.

Most of the first hour had gone into the Gram’s design history, and it had revealed far more about the weapon—and weapon design in general—than she had ever expected. 

One thing that had stood out especially, was just how many factors went into building a weapon intended for wide-spread distribution. 

Even though the Gram was a designated marksman rifle and not exactly a mass-appeal product—unlike something like the AR303 or similar—it was still designed as an “off-the-shelf” weapon, not a one-of-a-kind build made for a particular user or purpose in mind beyond “designated marksmen will use this weapon”.

Because of that, a lot of design choices had been made not to build the perfect weapon for someone like her, but instead to make something that could function adequately in as many situations people in her role could get into as possible, without sacrificing too much in either direction. 

It was obvious when stated plainly like this of course, but seeing the actual process—the compromises, the narrowed options, the common-denominator decisions—that the original designers at Starfire Armaments had followed, struck her harder than she expected.

‘But it also means that there’s quite a bit of leeway to really modify and customize the weapon to fit what I need better…’

This past hour of discussion had focused on the finalized aspects of the Gram and its more detailed parts—especially the Laser-variant. 

Peria had insisted they start with that one, since it was the most complicated option but also the one Thea had the most experience with—and Thea hadn’t found a reason to disagree. 

There wasn’t a single weapon she knew better than the Gram, except maybe the Caliburn itself—and not knowing every tiny detail of that one would have been beyond dangerous, given the Solarium core inside it, so she had spent countless hours reading through every page of the manual and studying the schematics to the best of her abilities.

Right now, they were studying the exact schematic of the lens setup and talking through how the weapon actually worked on a basic level. 

Thea had insisted they start from the ground up, since she didn’t actually really understand how everything functioned under the hood yet. 

The maintenance manuals and schematics that came with her license were helpful of course, but not nearly detailed enough for her to simply reverse-engineer how it all worked on a fundamental level—at least not yet.

‘Maybe once I get all the Skill Classes sorted out, I’ll be able to look at those full-license schematics and actually understand how things work just from that,’ she thought. ‘Right now however, I can only guess which part does what based on breaking everything down and putting it back together a hundred times… It’s mostly semi-educated guessing though, really.’

That lack of knowledge was being fixed fast by Peria’s energetic breakdowns.

“At a basic level, laser-type weapons across the galaxy aren’t actually laser-based—not primarily,” Peria explained. “Anyone with half an eye for detail could figure that out sooner or later. If these were true lasers, a mirror-polish or reflective armor would shut them down instantly—or worse, bounce the beam back into your own lines.”

Thea nodded at that. 

It really was obvious, and something she had figured out the first time she had tried laser weapons in Terra’s games.

“Instead, these so-called lasers are more like high-speed mini plasma-particle weapons that fire two separate shots almost at once,” Peria continued. “Here and here.”

She pointed at two sections of the lens array, the schematic hovering in 3D above the bench. With a swipe she stripped away surrounding components, leaving the arrays hanging like exposed nerves.

“Every shot starts with what’s called the priming-laser. It’s the only part that’s even somewhat close to a real laser. Its job is to ionize the air from barrel to target, creating a clean tunnel of a mostly homogenous medium for the second shot, also known as the payload. Then the second array sends a condensed beam of light carrying a tiny mass of particles through that tunnel and into the target.”

On the hologram, a slowed-down firing sequence played out, breaking everything into clear pieces of motion. 

Thea stared, utterly fascinated—she had never even realized the Gram fired in two stages.

“This payload is why the shots glow and leave streaks in the air—it’s effectively a form of plasma that's being dragged through the ionized pathway. It’s also why your typical laser-variants cap out at 0.88c for shot-speed. That’s the fastest the bundle of particles can travel through the tunnel medium without destabilizing and simply ripping apart.

“And it’s that mass behind the shot that lets these rifles punch clean through armor in the first place. A true laser would need constant burn-time on the same point to get through anything thicker than a single plate of durasteel, barring truly unfathomable levels of energy investment. Power means nothing without a mass to push.”

A lot of what the clerk was explaining about the weapon’s inner workings was already drifting past Thea’s actual understanding of the material in question.

‘I can kind of follow the general idea, but I don’t really get the deeper parts… That’s not great,’ she thought, her brows pulling tight.

Peria noticed immediately. “Oh—sorry. Too much?”

Thea shook her head quickly. “No, not too much. Just… I’m missing the basics to understand what all those details actually mean. I get what you’re saying on the surface, but I don’t have real knowledge in… physics?”

Peria nodded along, then tilted her head. “Well—physics and photonics.”

“Right. Those. I don’t have a deep knowledge on either of those yet, so I can’t extrapolate what that really means for the weapon as a whole and what aspects might be problematic or could become useful to me as a whole…” Thea admitted.

A sudden thought struck her and she grabbed her datapad, opening it while speaking out loud.

“Sovereign, could you let Peria see my Skill Classes on here? Just so she can help me figure out which Skills I should focus on, if I want to learn this stuff properly?”

Peria visibly flinched when Thea addressed the ship’s AI directly, though Thea couldn’t even wager a guess as to why.

The Sovereign answered right away as usual, its voice carrying from the air around them, “I can. However, some Skill’s details may need to be redacted. Peria Akin is not fully Integrated into the Allbright System, therefore certain information is restricted. None of your current Skill Classes fall into that category, but the clarification was deemed necessary.”

Thea’s eyebrows rose. 

She hadn’t even thought about that before but, of course Peria wasn’t Integrated. 

She looked at the clerk properly and the difference was blindingly obvious.

Far smaller than even Thea herself, less lean and definitely lacking that strange gravitas, which was hard to really quantify—she could feel the difference instinctually however, being this close to the other woman.

“How does that work, exactly? The whole not-being-Integrated thing, but still being allowed to know about the Allbright System and most of what goes on behind the scenes?” Thea asked, watching Peria accept her datapad and begin scrolling through the Skill Classes—broken down into sub-Skills and topics.

“It’s quite simple, really,” the clerk replied while reading. “We’re offered a series of increasingly restrictive NDAs. First with the company that wants to hire us, then the Faction we’ll be working with—in this case the UHF—then the specific branches, so the UHF Marine Corps and UHF Navy for me. And finally, once all NDAs are accepted, we sign a direct contract with the Allbright System itself. That one enforces its rules a lot more strictly than anything else can really, so it makes sense.”

“Y-You directly talked to the System?!” Thea blurted out.

Peria nodded casually, like it was no big deal.

“What was it like?! What did it sound like? Was there anything weird? How does something like that even happen?!” The questions spilled out of her before she could stop them.

The clerk chuckled softly, lifting her gaze from the datapad to meet Thea’s eyes—briefly flinching, but pushing through the unease. “Sorry. I’m not laughing at the questions—just your reaction. It’s kind of a mirror, in a way... But anyway: It was… normal, I guess? Which sounds strange when talking about the System, I know. But I was basically just shown a System Interface with all the NDA information, got a verbal rundown—which sounded like any other AI, really. Nothing special or dramatic. Just… Exactly what I thought something like the System would sound like, in a way? And once I agreed and signed, I officially became a System Liaison for the UHF MC and Navy, so I could work aboard ships like the Sovereign. And that’s how I ultimately ended up here.”

Peria’s answer left Thea a little deflated. 

Normal? A simple Interface, a read-through NDA, a voice no different from any other AI? 

She wasn’t sure what she had expected, really—something grand, ominous, reality-warping maybe. 

But still, nothing?

Peria went on, almost casually, “And I haven’t heard from the System ever since. Honestly? I’m kind of grateful for that. Knowing something like that is always watching over you is… uncomfortable. So the less contact I need to have with it, the better.”

Thea could understand the feeling, although she didn’t particularly share it beyond a very basic level of unease that came with the sheer scale of it all. 

But where Peria evidently felt unease, Thea mainly felt fascination. 

Whoever—or whatever—had built something like the Allbright System existed on a level she couldn’t even begin to comprehend. 

She wanted to learn how it worked, however, to understand it as deeply as she could.

And maybe one day, she would get to a point where she could.

Peria finished reading through the Skills. “Okay, for what you want to understand, you’re going to want to focus here. Physics, Photonics, Weaponsmithing and Laser-Weaponry Design—obviously. But add Material Science and Engineering too, if you really want to know what’s happening under the hood.”

She tapped each one on the display as she listed them, then paused.

“But you don’t need to master it all right away. I’m not an expert myself, really. I just have enough to work with—and so will you. Just… don’t expect full understanding overnight. This could take years. Several thousand hours to get everything listed in those Skill Classes under your belt, I’d imagine. But Marines live for a long time though, right? You’ll get there eventually."

Thea blinked at that. Years? All her Skill Classes only took a few weeks each in the DDS if she pushed—until the realization hit her.

‘Right… Peria probably doesn’t know about the Time Dilation part at all—’

She opened her mouth to explain, then shut it again just as quickly. 

‘—but if she doesn’t know, there’s definitely a reason for it.’

Better to double-check clearance before dropping something like that.

So she just smiled instead. “I’m a quick study. I’ll work hard.”

Peria returned the smile without hesitation. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”

She handed Thea’s datapad back and smoothly shifted gears. “Now… about the modifications you made to the laser-type Gram during the DM. Do you want to go over those too?”

“Yes!” Thea answered immediately…

—

—

PoV: Peria Akin

“—so if you’d kept the weapon running like that for maybe another twenty or thirty minutes, it probably would’ve blown up in your hands, Thea,” Peria finished.

The Marine’s eyes widened at that, clearly not expecting the weapon to be in such bad shape. But based on everything Peria had been able to simulate, her assumptions were about as accurate as they could get.

They had spent the last hour talking about the in-battle modifications Thea had made to her Gram, which were, honestly, surprisingly smart and effective given the situation. 

Still, modifications could only get someone so far.

“What you really need to watch out for in the future, if you ever end up in something like that again, is that it’s not just about cooling but also about material stresses involved—this is something the Material Science Skill Classes will go over, from what I saw on your list. That’s why I recommended it,” Peria explained.

“When you rapidly heat and cool materials like that, they naturally get more and more brittle. It’s still better than an immediate meltdown of course, but weapons like the Gram aren’t meant to be used in the way you did. They’re rated to handle those conditions, sure, but only for a short time—not extended periods of punishment like that.”

She pulled up the Gram’s schematics again, and this time opened a second set—one she had prepared ahead of time for this exact discussion. Jonas had recommended it, and Peria was very glad she’d spent several hours picking his brain last night.

Thea herself looked beyond pleased and intrigued with how things were going, which was a massive relief for her.

‘Making sure to earn my keep here. Keep it up, Peri. You’re doing great,’ she internally cheered herself on, as she deftly brought up both schematics in a reductive comparison.

She zoomed in on the internal reactor, then the wires, then the barrel, overlaying the two schematics so she could flip between them with a tap and show the changes directly.

“So, as you can see here,” Peria continued, highlighting the internal reactor, which looked clean and intact in the base model but showed thin web-like cracks across the surface in the simulated version of Thea’s weapon, “the casing is already starting to fracture. The coolant you pushed through worked, but it cooled too fast and too often, which stresses the housing as it’s not designed for that kind of rapid heating and cooling cycle.”

She switched to the wiring schematic. “And here, some of the power lines have already been damaged by the excessive temperature changes as well. The remaining ones had to handle the full load alone, which sped up the spread of the damage even more.”

Finally, she flicked back and forth between both barrel images—one straight and polished, the other visibly warped and half-melted. “This part concerns me the most. The barrel would have been the first thing to go, I think. If the structure drooped just a little more, a shot could have clipped the edge mid-fire. In the best case, the barrel would have blown back at you. Worst case… a plasma-particle destabilizes at 0.88c. That kind of detonation would send shrapnels around that would probably kill you and anyone standing within a couple meters.”

Peria kept a careful eye on the VIPs' facial expressions, which were thankfully very expressive, most of the time. It made it easy to guess how Thea felt about a particular topic, whether it was something she wanted Peria to dive into deeper or whether it was something she didn’t quite understand. 

Thea was a downright perfect customer in her opinion. 

Easy to deal with in more ways than one, friendly and willing to let credits do the talking where the corporation might otherwise throw wrenches into the path of enjoyment.

The girl took a moment to process everything, then let out a slow breath. 

“Okay… so what could I have done differently, then?” she asked, clearly hoping there was some smarter path she missed.

Peria opened her mouth, paused, then gave a small shrug. “Honestly? Not much. Given what you were trying to do in that situation, you made about the best choices you could have.”

She tapped the hologram gently with her pen.

“It really just comes down to the Gram not being designed to act like a machine gun. It can shoot a dozen times a second, yes… but it’s not meant to keep doing that. Quick bursts or occasional rapid shots? Sure. But the kind of continuous punishment you put it through was just beyond what it was built for.”

Thea listened closely, brow furrowed but clearly focused on every word she said.

“And capacitor-based laser rifles in general are weak to that kind of stress,” Peria continued. “They’re built around a fixed cooling capacity. Enough to handle the normal charge from the reactor and the heat from the capacitor mags—but only within those design limits. It makes them lighter, as capacitor-mags are lighter than coolant ones, and able to punch a bit higher above the coolant-based rifles in raw power output, but it also limits them in a way.” 

She rotated the schematic to highlight the coolant lines. “When you force the caps to dump charge faster than the weapon can cool, and then also pump in external coolant the rifle isn’t designed to properly circulate like it is for its own internal cooling solutions… Well, things start fracturing. Everywhere.”

She leaned back, gesturing with both hands.

“A coolant-based laser rifle would’ve handled this kind of usage better. They’re built to move external coolant efficiently, so even with capacitor-mags modded in, they wouldn’t tear themselves apart so easily. Not because they’re better, but because they’re designed for that kind of rapid heating and cooling cycle in mind.”

Thea nodded slowly—understanding dawning clear across her face. 

‘Good,’ she thought. ‘Breaking it down simple was the right call.’

Peria had been worried she might be losing her with all the tech talk, but the Marine kept up well—shockingly well, considering her age. 

She guessed the girl was maybe eighteen or nineteen years old. And with how stupidly monstrous she already was in combat, a plurality of those years were almost certainly spent in training camps, not classrooms.

Plus, she was supposedly from a mid-world undercity of all places.

Which, in Peria’s experience, usually meant she shouldn’t understand any of this.

So the fact Thea was following along at all felt downright incredible.

It made her chest warm with a strange mix of pride and disbelief.

“So considering everything you just said,” the Marine said. “I should just try my best to not get into a position like that with the Gram, and if I do get into a position like that again, keep a close eye on the barrel at the very least, so I don’t end up killing everyone in my pillbox from it blowing up.”

Peria blinked a few times at how casually the girl talked about dying from a catastrophic weapon failure, but she quickly nodded, “Pretty much, yeah. If you ever find yourself in that situation again, that’s probably the safest approach. Technically, the reactor’s another risk, but you can’t exactly check that in the middle of a fight, so think of it as the part that’ll fail second. And based on the simulations I ran for this, the barrel always gives out before the casing does, so keeping track of its condition should give you a decent idea of how long you can push things.”

She paused, raised a finger to put emphasis on her next words, before continuing. “Just remember—I’m not telling you to run your gun like this. This is emergency-only advice. Ideally, avoid that scenario entirely. Or bring a different weapon—or even another Gram variant—if you expect mass engagements like that.”

Peria shifted the holographic schematics, clearing space for the next display. “Which brings us to the next part, actually. You wanted to talk about the Ballistic and Gauss variants too, right?”

Thea nodded vigorously without hesitation, her self-illuminating eyes sparkling.

Peria couldn’t stop the small grin tugging at her mouth. 

‘Yeah,’ she thought as she leaned forward to queue the next schematic, ‘she really is the perfect customer...’

—

They spent another four hours talking through each variant, tossing around possible modifications to help Thea get exactly what she wanted out of them—like adding a grav-lockable bipod to the ballistic version to cancel recoil during stationary fire—alongside Peria answering what felt like a thousand different questions about how each model worked and why. 

Some were simple, like “How does it function at a base level?”, which forced Peria to break the concepts down into bite-sized explanations the young Marine could actually follow. 

Others were far more fun—her favourites by far—like “How would you build it differently if you were on the design team?”, which let her stretch out creatively and talk about the things she wished she could try. 

Then there were the heavier questions, like “What if I want traits from two variants at once—how do I choose, and what do I change?”, which took them nearly thirty minutes to work through.

And honestly… Peria had loved every damn second of it.

Her boosters had worn off two and a half hours ago, but she hadn’t even really noticed—not with the excitement of getting to talk design at this depth with someone who actually, genuinely cared and understood how awesome these things really were. 

The jitters were definitely creeping in by now however, but she pushed through them easily enough, especially as she and Thea were already making their way toward the back exit to part ways.

“Thank you so much for your time, Peria,” Thea said, dipping her head. 

The gesture, paired with the gratitude itself, sent a fresh rush of nerves and leftover booster-aftershocks straight through the clerk.

Peria let out a controlled, definitely-not-unhinged-please-don’t-think-I’m-unhinged laugh, steadying herself as best she could. “Nothing to thank me for, Thea. You paid for my prep time, and I’m glad the work helped. I really hope the consultation was worth it—but judging by your reaction, I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Absolutely! This was fucking awesome!” Thea said without hesitation.

She paused for half a heartbeat, then added—almost shyly—“Um… would you be open to more sessions like this? Maybe something regular? After I figure out my Skill Class schedule and when our mandatory courses start. I can pay for any time you need off, of course!”

Peria blinked once, then twice, trying to catch up with the sudden shift in Thea’s tone. 

A second ago, the girl had been gleaming with downright bloodthirsty interest over weapon variants, and now she stood there fidgeting like a brand-new intern, nervous but hopeful, like asking for another meeting might’ve been too bold. 

The contrast would have given anyone whiplash.

‘How does one person swing between a war monster during a DM, hyperfocused tech-nerd and tiny overwhelmed kitten so fast?’ Peria wondered, feeling a laugh bubble in her chest. ‘She really is so young… That’ll get hammered out of her before Private, I’m sure.’

She matched Thea’s enthusiasm with a warm smile. 

“I’d be happy to,” she answered simply. “Once you know your schedule—Skill sessions, classes, whatever else gets thrown your way—tell me and we’ll set up more.”

Thea’s eyes lit up like bright-blue stars.

Peria continued, offering what felt like a surprisingly overdue option. “And we don’t have to do everything on store time, necessarily. If it fits for you, we can meet after my store hours. You wouldn’t need to pay for those meetings then, obviously.”

The look Thea gave her in response was almost comical—like someone had just revealed air was free on most planets. 

Clearly, the idea hadn’t even existed in her brain until that moment.

“Oh! Right—yeah. That’d be… that’d be amazing, actually,” she said, smiling awkwardly. 

“Thank you, Peria.”

“Of course.” Peria nodded, genuinely pleased. “Just let me know.”

With one last grin from Thea, and a small wave from Peria, the two parted ways—agreement loose but clear. She waited until Thea fully disappeared down the corridor before she let herself feel the weight of the day.

Her breath left her in a single, long exhale. “Fuuuck—”

Her spine unstrung itself all at once, her limbs shaking with booster come-down and emotional exhaustion. 

She loved spending time with Thea—truly—but maintaining perfect professionalism for hours around the VIP of the Sovereign? 

That was its own damn battlefield. And she didn’t even get any armour to go with it. 

She walked quickly to the backrooms and towards the door connecting the clerk apartments with the back of the store, before she teleported straight to her apartment’s hallway, feet dragging, hands shaky enough she had to double up her grip on the bag she carried. 

She only made it two steps down her hall before she froze.

A package sat neatly in front of her door.

Addressed to her.

“Huh…?” she whispered, scooping it up with hands that trembled harder the closer she held it. The booster crash was hitting hard now—jittery fingers, fraying focus, thoughts skittering sideways.

Inside, she found a small note.

[In recognition of your exemplary work. - L]

“L…? Do I even know an L?” Peria muttered, brow furrowing. “L for Logistics? Lieutenant? Lindon? Lila? L—no, this is stupid.”

She carried it inside, closed the door behind her and opened the box carefully.

Inside was a single injector.

Not a cheap one. This thing was art. 

The metal casing gleamed with a smooth, dark finish and intricate, shimmering engravings that curled around the cylinder like vines in all colours of the rainbow. Even the cap looked handcrafted—expensive enough that she felt unworthy even holding it.

Her brain stopped working entirely for a moment.

Only when she lifted the small accompanying card did everything crack open.

[Memento Vitae — 5 Years]

Peria’s heart skipped, then stuttered, then raced so fast it hurt.

“No. No, no, no—this can’t—this isn’t—” she whispered, voice thinning to nothing. 

These injectors were legendary. Spoken of like myth. 

Nobody could possibly get their hands on these. 

Nobody even knew if they truly existed or not.

A simple clerk like her would never receive them.

Her knees buckled.

‘This is impossible. Why me? Who would—How?!’

Her vision blurred as she toppled sideways, the exhaustion, booster withdrawal and disbelief all crashing down on her and forcing her consciousness to fade, the package almost tumbling from her hand. 

She barely registered the soft landing under her cheek, only dimly aware of pillows cushioning her fall.

‘…When did I put those there?’ she thought groggily, one last flicker of confusion passing through her disintegrating consciousness.

She was grateful for them, as they had stopped her from cracking her head open on the stone floor of her apartment.

And then she slipped under—no resistance left—carried away into a deep, dreamless dark…

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[Wolf Lord+ | Draft] Volume 2 - Chapter 66 - Squad Time II

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Welcome to the draft release of Volume 2 - Chapter 66 - Squad Time II for y'all.

As always, a quick reminder that this chapter is still in the process of being workshopped by me and that this is simply the first-draft.

And also: Please do not read the chapters here on Patreon, but go for the googledoc, .pdf or .epub instead. Patreon butchers all forms of formatting and you're missing out on easier and more enjoyable reading experiences.

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Finishing up all the DMs (except Thea's cause I need that one as a lead-in for the next one)!

Next chapter will focus on PV, Levels and the wrap-up for the squad party.

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I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is the link to the chapter:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1LCieDA8IlTRmLLw-U6nHa18SZ3WTEEL5iKzsSnd0heA/edit?usp=sharing

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Volume 2 - Chapter 66 - Squad Time II

“Colonel Harlan Vey,” the interviewer began, “thank you for joining us. I’ll get straight to it: A UHF world was lost. Command leadership was decapitated during an enemy offensive. And now we know there was a traitor involved. How could something like that happen?”

Colonel Vey did not bristle. He folded his hands on the table and answered calmly. 

“Because spies and traitors are hard to catch. Harder than most people want to admit.”

The interviewer leaned in slightly. “Even with Faction Traits in play?”

“Especially with Faction Traits,” Vey replied without missing a beat. “There’s a popular idea that Traits make everything easy. That we can just point at someone and force the truth out of them. But that isn’t how reality works. Every activation of a Trait comes with a Merit cost. For us especially, but also for them. You can’t just burn Merit on every suspicion that crosses your desk—in extraordinary circumstances, we do. But not as a general rule. You’d be burning down your own army to embers before the first shot is even fired.”

“So you didn’t test them,” the interviewer said pointedly.

“We couldn’t,” Vey said. “Not at the scale required. Not responsibly.”

He continued before the next question could even come. “People also imagine that we can just put every Marine into the DDS and let the AIs sort things out over time. And… In theory, yes, if we have the time. In practice, however, the answer is simply: No. There are limits. You see, respawn chambers are finite. When a ship is en route to a Battlefield, we board tens of thousands of Marines along the way. Many of them never enter the DDS at all. They come aboard combat-ready days before deployment.

“Add to that, a large portion of UHF Navy personnel being Unintegrated and you have a large collection of people that you can’t simply Faction Trait check, even if you wanted to,” Vey said. “And even those who are Integrated often stay outside the DDS. Someone has to keep the ships running, after all. Someone has to manage the reactors, the engines, and calculate the jump windows.”

The interviewer nodded slowly. “So there are gaps.”

“There are realities,” Vey corrected gently. “Add Void Incursion response teams manned by our own Marines. Add long-term external deployments made up of both Marines, Navy and AD. Add the fact that the Allbright System enables some very dangerous Abilities for assassins and infiltrators. And suddenly you’re no longer looking for one failure point. You’re looking at thousands of moving parts that all need to be perfect, all the time.”

“But this time,” the interviewer said, “they weren’t.”

Vey exhaled. “This time, someone happened to choose the exact right path. The exact right moment. They snuck in, then struck at headquarters and cut the head off the chain, just when the chain was being pulled taut. It worked.”

The interviewer paused, then asked the question many were likely thinking. “So why should people still trust the UHF Marine Corps to handle things properly, if something like this happens?”

Vey looked straight into the camera. “Because you’re all hearing about it.”

The interviewer frowned. “Elaborate, if you would?”

“If failures like this were common,” Vey said, “they wouldn’t be news. They’d be statistics, and I wouldn’t be here to listen to your questions and give answers. The very fact that this incident is being dissected across the entire UHF right now tells you something important.”

“That your defences usually hold,” the interviewer said quietly, realisation dawning.

“I always knew you were one of the smart ones,” Vey confirmed with a smile and a nod. “It means that our preventive measures work far more often than they fail. We caught tens, even hundreds of thousands of threats you’ll never hear about. This one got through. And because it did, we are tearing the system apart to make sure it never happens the same way again.”

There was a short silence.

Then the interviewer asked, “And the battlegroups responsible for that planet?”

Vey’s jaw tightened, just slightly. “They didn’t die for nothing. And the person who betrayed them will not be remembered as clever. Only as temporary.”

—

[Excerpt from UHF Public Affairs Network – (Integrated) Interview Segment, PFC 924]

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Watching Karania’s DM recording was a completely different experience from Corvus’ or Lucas’ altogether.

Alpha Squad’s Medic offered a few pointers and comments here and there about what she had been doing at the time—such as certain medical procedures or explaining her thought process on certain triage decisions—but for the most part, the recording spoke for itself.

The only real constant was Isabella’s downright manic laughter at the sheer, utter apocalypse unfolding on the screen at any given moment—and Thea honestly couldn’t fault her for it.

‘The Faultline modifier really is insane,’ Thea had to admit after seeing it for herself. ‘Kara mentioned how rough it was, but this… is on a whole different level than what I had in mind…’

She had expected some rumbling, maybe the ground cracking open in places, rockcrete shifting up or down by half a meter here and there. What actually happened in the DM, though, was far beyond anything she had imagined—let alone thought realistic enough to be used in something as reality-close as a training mission.

While Karania’s point of view was often buried deep inside the bodies and organs of wounded Marines, seeing her best friend’s work from a first-person view was both terrifying and awe-inspiring at the same time. 

But it was the moments between patients—when Karania lifted her eyes and took in the battlefield in search of the next target—that left the whole squad sitting in stunned silence; or manic laughter in the case of Isabella.

Not just because of the scale of the destruction, but also because of Karania’s freakishly precise situational awareness, even in the middle of all that apocalyptic chaos.

One moment in particular burned itself into Thea’s mind.

Karania’s view had burst out from behind a half-collapsed med-station just as the ground screamed beneath her boots. The earth didn’t shake so much as it ripped and teared—a deep, rolling crack splitting the street straight down the middle as if something massive underneath had decided it had finally had enough. 

Rockcrete around her buckled, folded, then shattered into clouds of dust that swallowed the lower levels whole. Buildings simply seemed to implode inwards and then came down in chunks, entire facades shearing off and smashing into the streets and fighting Soldiers and Marines below.

Artillery thundered overhead at the same time, the concussive booms stacking on top of the seismic roars until it was hard to tell where the battlefield even ended and the planet’s wrath itself began. 

Mortars walked their destruction across the ruins, Stellar Republic emplacements trading shots with Marines who were scrambling not just for cover, but for the few pieces of solid ground that still existed.

And Karania moved through it like she was dancing on a knife’s edge.

Her steps were light and impossibly steady—skirting cracks that widened into yawning chasms mere seconds later, vaulting over sinking slabs of street as they tilted away and then cracked into nothingness.

The HUD marker she was chasing flagged a Marine listed as “green,” mobile and uninjured, just ahead.

Thea had no idea how Karania had known this would happen, as she hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary to indicate as such, but by the time Karania had reached the Marine in question, that status was no longer even remotely true.

A fresh collapse had come down only moments prior. 

Several tons of shattered rockcrete and twisted durasteel rods had crushed the Marine against what had once been a wall. His vitals were spiking, then crashing, his body pinned so completely that only his helmet and one arm were visible beneath the rubble.

Karania didn’t even slow down at the sight.

She slid to her knees just as another shockwave rippled through the ground, debris raining down around her, hands already moving—injectors out, armour seals snapped, fingers morphing into medical tools one after another even as the world tried its best to kill them both. 

Somewhere nearby, the roaring sound of rockcrete being torn apart by nature itself sounded and a chasm opened, swallowing an entire fireteam whole, their icons blinking out in the corner of Karania’s HUD as if they’d never existed.

And still, she worked without pause to free the Marine from his predicament.

Watching it, Thea felt her throat go dry.

This was pure, unfiltered mayhem. 

The end of the world, happening again and again in every direction at once—and somehow Karania was running straight through it, carving out small pockets of survival in the middle of total collapse.

Ultimately, however, the recording and Karania’s run in the DM had ended with a fireteam of Stellar Republic soldiers catching Karania off-guard in yet another shattered section of the battlefield, where a small triage point had been set up. 

They had slipped behind the UHF lines—if the ongoing chaos could even be called lines anymore—and hit the first-aid area hard.

Karania had been working on another Marine when she realized what was happening, but even with her insane situational awareness, she hadn’t been fast—or armored—enough to handle a full fireteam on her own, and definitely not in the middle of surgery.

“So… yeah. That was Faultline,” Karania said into the heavy silence once the recording ended. “I can only recommend it if you want some experience with pure chaos. I’m pretty sure you’d love this one, Isa.”

Isabella’s answer came in the form of loud, roaring laughter. “Absolutely! That looked like a fucking blast, holy shit! I’m honestly tempted to jump into one right after this and see if there’s a Faultline modifier available… My own DM was boring as fuck compared to that, damn!”

Corvus was the first to visibly react to the whole thing wrapping up, even if only non-verbal. 

He simply nodded once, like he was filing the whole thing away for later.

Lucas, on the other hand, looked a bit pale. 

He scratched the back of his neck and let out a low breath. 

“I… don’t know if I’d last thirty minutes in something like that,” he admitted. “No cover, the ground trying to kill you, buildings falling over—it feels like the whole planet’s your enemy. And with my Super-Heavy armor, there’s no way I could get out of the way fast enough.”

He went quiet after that, staring at the frozen frame on the display, clearly lost in thought.

‘I’ll have to run a lot of drills with him once we start training in the arcade,’ Thea realized. ‘Super-Heavy types need that kind of practice more than anyone else, with all that extra weight. You can’t just trust the armour to tank everything for you in environments like that. It’s one of the main drawbacks of those armour types in the first place—that’ll be a lot of work…’

Desmond, however, was the one who surprised her the most—for what felt like the fifth time today.

“Honestly? That looked kind of amazing,” he said. “No stable sightlines, no predictable terrain, enemies everywhere… For drones, that’s a damn playground. So much vertical space, so many angles.” 

He paused, then added, “I mean—yeah, terrifying. But still. I’d love to try it.”

That… actually made sense, Thea had to admit. 

For a Drone Operator, a battlefield like that was practically tailor-made for highscores.

Karania stretched her arms over her head and broke the moment. “Oh, right—almost forgot. Friendlinks.” She grinned. “Got sixteen requests after that DM. I only accepted three.”

Corvus raised a brow. “Selective.”

“Naturally,” Kara said easily. “Two medics—both solid, knew what they were doing. And one Sergeant. Only Squad Leader in that whole mess that wasn’t completely hopeless.” 

She rolled her eyes. “I missed you in there, Corv. A lot of those people should not be allowed near command… But here we are.”

Thea winced in sympathy.

Her thoughts drifted despite herself. ‘How would I have done in that DM…?’

Her Passive [Glimpse] would’ve warned her before the ground split open—at least most of the time—but actually fighting in that chaos? 

Every engagement she’d seen had been extremely close. 

A hundred meters, maybe less. Practically CQC range for all of them. 

Finding clean lines of fire would’ve been almost impossible in that chaos—just the smoke from the mountains of debris alone would have made that tough, not even mentioning all the cover the broken buildings and chasms had created.

‘Still…’ She made a quiet mental note. ‘I should try a modifier next time. Faultline if possible, just to see how I’d deal with it all in the moment.’ 

Karania clapped her hands together. “Alright! Enough about my little adventures. Isa, you’re up, I’d say! You mentioned yours was boring…?”

Isabella groaned, dragging a hand down her face. 

“Ugh. Fine! But don’t expect anything exciting,” she said. “Compared to whatever the fuck that was? Mine’s gonna look like a damn training sim.”

Still, she reached for the controls, and the squad settled back in for yet another review…

—

‘Well… she wasn’t wrong,’ Thea had to admit reluctantly after Isabella’s DM recap had finished. ‘That really wasn’t particularly exciting.’

Isabella’s DM, which by all accounts should have been exciting just by virtue of who Isabella was and what her Role involved, had somehow ended up being the least interesting of all the DMs they’d seen so far—by a wide margin.

It had been a Point Assault, with Isabella in a squad made up of two Offensive Heavies, a Defensive Heavy, two Supports, and a Squad Leader. 

They were missing a Medic, but it hadn’t really mattered.

Everything had just… worked.

Like they were running a clean training sim, exactly like Isabella had described. 

No surprise attacks, no sudden complications, no mistakes. The squad moved smoothly, covered each other perfectly, and pushed the objective without any real resistance.

For all intents and purposes, it had been a flawless mission—which made it painfully boring to watch.

“So yeah,” Isabella said with a sigh. “That was my DM. Just a simple Point Assault, nothing special going on. I linked with the whole squad, ‘cause, well, you saw them. They rocked. Honestly. Hoping we’ll get to that level as a squad too, someday.”

Corvus nodded with genuine excitement, somehow the only one who seemed to have gotten a lot out of it. “That was truly marvelous… I’d like the full recording later, if you don’t mind, Isabella. There’s just so much to learn from it all…!”

Isabella gave him a slightly strange look, but agreed anyway, before quickly shifting gears.

“Well then,” she added, grinning. “I guess it’s time for our grumpy Drone Operator to go next. We’re clearly saving the best for last, even if nobody’s saying it out loud.”

She wiggled her eyebrows at Thea, who could only roll her eyes in response.

‘How was I supposed to know my first DM would turn into a fucking upscale…’

Aside from Kara, nobody actually knew what had happened during it, barring that fact—but judging by the energy in the room, they were all very interested to find out. Somehow, without anyone really mentioning it out loud, Thea had ended up with the unofficial final act of the entire review session.

Desmond, meanwhile, leaned forward at Isabella’s cue, looking far more animated than Thea was used to seeing him. 

“Okay, uh—no promises that this tops Kara’s apocalypse,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “but it was definitely not as ass-boring as Isabella’s.”

Isabella snorted, rolling her eyes. “Low bar.”

He grinned, then added more seriously, “Heads up, though. This one might be rough to follow if you’re not a Drone Operator. Or if your Perception’s kinda low.”

Thea almost asked what he meant—but then the recording started, and the answer became obvious immediately.

Instead of a single point of view, the screen split into four. 

Desmond’s own perspective sat in the center, while three additional windows bloomed around it, each showing the feed from a different drone. 

They moved independently—one skimming low over rubble, another climbing in a slow spiral, a third darting between broken structures—each camera tilting, rotating, and adjusting on its own.

“What am I even supposed to look at?” Lucas groaned barely a minute in.

“My eyes hurt,” Isabella added. “This is bullshit.”

Karania and Corvus fared a bit better, but both looked strained, utterly focused and remained silent, brows furrowed as they tried to keep up with all of the perspectives.

Thea blinked, surprised to find that she could actually follow it fairly easily. 

Not perfectly, but more than well enough. 

Her eyes jumped between feeds without much effort, piecing together how the drones overlapped, how Desmond used them to build a moving picture of the battlefield and even started getting an idea for how Desmond liked to position them around him in a sort of overlapping triangle to keep his own back in view at all times as well. 

Judging by the chorus of complaints around her, that acumen probably wasn’t normal.

‘I guess that’s thanks to my Perception… And having dealt with varying picture-in-picture’s in a lot of the games before. Nothing quite as intense as this, but it probably doesn’t hurt.’

After a few more minutes of suffering, Desmond cleared his throat. 

“Okay, yeah, that’s on me.” 

With a few quick inputs, he collapsed the extra views, only pulling them up when they mattered. 

The collective relief in the room was immediate.

The rest of the DM settled into a clearer rhythm after that. 

It was a Point Defense, focused on a singular compound, with Desmond feeding constant recon to his squad—calling out flanking units, marking incoming armor, sending drones out as bait once the enemy started digging in. When things got messy, his drones slipped behind enemy lines, forcing repositioning and buying space for the Marines to breathe.

The three-dimensional vantage point the drones provided wasn’t just great for gathering information, however.

Desmond was also using their flanking routes and strange angles to pick off high-value targets—such as Duplicators—that could be spotted far earlier thanks to the drones’ enhanced camera systems.

Alpha Squad’s Drone Operator had also clearly upgraded his kit since the Assessment too. 

Thea was fairly sure he hadn’t even had half of these tools back then. 

The first thing that really caught her eye was a probability-matrix overlay built into each drone’s camera, estimating how likely a given Stellar Republic enemy was to be a Duplicator based on movement patterns and positioning.

It was all genuinely impressive, especially considering this was still early Tier 1 tech—and without any advanced Drone Operator Class backing it up. 

Watching it unfold, Thea couldn’t help but imagine how different her own DM would have been if an Operator like this had been on the other side.

‘I would’ve had way less freedom to move,’ she thought grimly. ‘Drone Operators really are terrifying… I should put them extremely high on my to-kill list going forward… Not that they weren’t already near the top, but this definitely cements it.’

At around the eighty percent mark through the DMs recording, Desmond suddenly reactivated all of the drone feeds alongside his own view, a smug, almost giddy grin spreading across his face.

“Hold on—don’t complain yet,” he said quickly, holding up a hand when Isabella was already half-opening her mouth. “Just… watch. All of it. There’s something here I haven’t mentioned.”

The recording ran for a few minutes before Desmond paused it, rewound, and let the same stretch play again.

“I can loop this as many times as you want,” he added. “Take your time.”

Thea straightened immediately, her earlier half-focus fully locking in on the screen. 

Something about one of the drone feeds had tugged at her the first time through—a faint, uncomfortable itch in the back of her mind, that she couldn’t quite place. 

This time, she locked onto that specific POV, still keeping the others in her peripheral vision.

“This is bullshit,” Isabella grumbled. “My eyes hurt…”

The room went dead quiet as the footage played.

Explosions. Suppressive fire. Marines advancing, then falling back and letting the Stellar Republic come to them.

“What the—” Lucas swore under his breath. “I can’t even tell where I’m supposed to look!”

Then—

Thea’s eyes widened.

Two Marines went down. Dropping like they’d been punched straight through the chest.

But the shots from the Stellar Republic’s side hadn’t actually hit them. They’d been caught by the hard cover in front of the Marines—barely—but still stopped.

Yet the Marines collapsed anyway.

Corvus frowned, jaw tight as he tried to isolate each feed one at a time.

Karania, though, went eerily still. Her eyes widened just a fraction at the second death.

That was enough.

Thea spoke before the moment slipped—feeling a sharp spike of adrenaline at finally catching something before Kara did, just this once.

“Desmond,” she said, eyes still locked on the screen. “Did you queue into an Infiltrator DM?”

He blinked at her, clearly caught off guard.

“There’s a Traitor in your lines,” she continued, finally meeting his eyes and watching him flinch. “Isn’t there?”

For a second, Desmond just stared at her, mouth half open.

Then he sagged back with a sigh. “Yeah. I did. And… yeah, there is.”

He rubbed his face. “I honestly didn’t expect anyone to catch it that fast. Kinda ruins what I was going for a bit...”

His eyes flicked back to Thea, equal parts impressed and annoyed. “Your Perception is fucking disgusting, you know that?”

He quickly lifted a finger. “—In a good way! In a good way. I’m not starting shit, I swear.”

Turning to the rest of the squad, he added, “I didn’t say anything on purpose, just to see if you’d catch it naturally. I only managed to pin them down near the end of the DM, and that was with two drones actively hunting the whole damn time. Rooting out a good Infiltrator is fucking hard. Like… really hard. If the DM parameters hadn’t told me there was one, I don’t think I would’ve ever realized it at all.”

Desmond pulled the recording back a few seconds and slowed it down, isolating the exact moments Thea had pointed out. He highlighted the two fallen Marines, overlaying projectile paths and impact markers as the footage crawled forward frame by frame. 

This time, it was impossible to miss.

The incoming fire struck the cover. Clean hits. No penetration. No ricochet.

And yet—both Marines still collapsed, almost in sync, bodies jerking as if something invisible had passed straight through them.

“Yeah,” Desmond muttered, voice low, a little grim now that the reveal was out. “There. That’s the tell.”

He switched feeds, pulling up one of the drone POVs Thea had been instinctively drawn to. 

The drone hovered high, angled just enough to catch movement behind friendly lines—subtle, deliberate repositioning that didn’t quite match the rhythm of the ongoing firefight.

“Watch this angle,” he said, scrubbing back again. “Not the enemies of course, but our guys.”

They watched as a single UHF Marine shifted positions between volleys, always just out of direct sight, always close enough to be plausible. The next playback showed the same Marine adjusting again, moments before another “impossible” death.

Lucas let out a slow breath. “That’s… fucked.”

Isabella leaned forward, elbows on her knees, eyes narrowed. “Sneaky bastard.”

Karania nodded, as if approving, “Very clean work. Whoever that was knew exactly what they were doing, damn.”

Desmond let the recording continue. 

A few minutes later, his drones tightened their search patterns, one peeling off from recon to linger just a little too long near that same Marine. 

Then, a thermal spike. A delay in return fire at enemy lines that didn’t line up with the thermal spike and a half-second of movement that didn’t make sense in normal combat.

“Aaand there,” Desmond said, a hint of pride creeping into his voice despite himself. “That’s when I knew. Drones picked up the inconsistency first, but after that, it was just a matter of confirmation and passing the intel up the chain.”

The footage ended with the traitor being marked, boxed in by a squad of Marines, and quietly eliminated once command was notified. 

The DM summary flashed across the display a second later.

[MVP Award – Awarded for: Intelligence Superiority]

Desmond leaned back in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks just a little red. “So… yeah. Turns out that’s part of why we actually won the DM. Caught the traitor before they could do any more damage.”

For a heartbeat, the room was quiet.

Then Lucas grinned. “That’s huge, man.”

Corvus nodded. “Textbook example of why intel wins wars. Well done, Desmond. You’r really starting to fill out that role of yours, eh?”

Isabella gave him a firm clap on the shoulder, leaning far over the couch. “Didn’t think I’d ever say this, but—glad to see your drones are good for other things than just comedic relief.”

Desmond ducked his head, clearly pleased despite trying not to show it. “Yeah, uh… I got a bunch of Friendlink requests after that, too. Didn’t really know what to do with them though.”

He shrugged. “I accepted two. A Sergeant and a Corporal. Both seemed solid. Figured I’d at least keep them on the radar.”

Corvus’s smile sharpened just a touch. “Smart. Very smart.”

Desmond hesitated, then added, a little sheepish, “I’ll… probably pay more attention to that stuff going forward. You all kinda made a good point earlier, honestly.”

Then he turned, smirk sliding back into place as his eyes landed on Thea. 

He kicked one ankle up over his knee and gestured lazily toward the display.

“Alright,” he said with a sigh. “Enough about me, I guess. I think it’s time we see whatever absolute bullshit Miss Nonsense over here managed to pull this time around.”

Thea snorted, rolling her eyes, but she didn’t miss the easy tone in his voice—or the fact that it didn’t sting at all.

“Wow. Rude,” she said dryly. “I’ll have you know my bullshit was very carefully thought out this time. And I had Squad Medic approval!”

“Not fucking mine,” came Karania’s immediate, icy response. 

It made Thea flinch, but she did her best to ignore the bite in it. A few chuckles rippled through the room, and Thea felt a small, unexpected warmth settle in her chest.

Getting teased like this felt… normal. Even if it was Desmond doing it.

She’d dealt with all kinds of people back in Terra’s games, after all.

‘Teasing and ribbing is just part of the game,’ she thought with a faint smile. ‘And honestly… this feels like the right level of camaraderie for someone like him.’

She finished setting up her DM recording, then cleared her throat. “So… apparently DMs can upscale. Who knew, huh?”

“I did,” Isabella said immediately.

“Yep. Knew that,” Desmond added.

“It was in the post-lecture materials…? Why wouldn’t we know?” Lucas asked, genuine confusion on his face.

“Would be pretty irresponsible for an Alpha Squad member not to know, really,” Corvus noted, shooting Thea a pointed look.

Karania—ever-loyal, dependable and trustworthy Karania—was the only one Thea knew would back her up.

“Well, Thea didn’t, ‘cause she’s an idiot,” Karania said, instantly crushing that hope.

“Anyway!” Thea cut in, much louder than needed. 

“Upscaled missions are kind of insane. And I might have spent a bit too long testing different weapons before I realized just how bad it was gonna get, so—uh—let’s just start watching, yeah?”

And with that, under a mix of scrutiny, amusement, and mild exasperation from the rest of the squad, Thea started the recording of her own DM…

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[ND] Chapter 163 - Procedure

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Chapter 158 - The Emporium has just released on RR with no major changes.

For the Fixers, this chapter is new.

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REMINDER: Next week is ADMIN WEEK, for Holiday-related reasons! That means the next chapter is going to be planned for December 29th!

There will be a post around Christmas, wishing y'all a great holiday time etc. and releasing the Christmas-special Pinup!

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Time to get back into some action!

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I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is the link to the chapter:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1MZEA8SmBkWen9VQxa7ZwJYh26ckiHswMcitsAtIeSj8/edit?usp=sharing

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Chapter 163 - Procedure

Finding myself inside Miss K’s office felt oddly familiar by now, like I’d been here enough times for it to start counting as a routine. 

I sat across from her desk while she studied me with those golden eyes of hers, pen in hand, already halfway through the same edited explanation I’d fed Valeria just yesterday.

“...So when I woke up, I noticed the Sprites had finally finished their work,” I said. “I was still extremely sore and dealing with residual pain for a while, but that tapered off over the next few hours. My mother confirmed the Sprites had fully receded and that they weren’t going to be a problem anymore, so I mostly just rested for the remainder of the day. Didn’t do any major exercising.”

Dropping that Valeria was an experienced Practitioner felt like a calculated risk—but not much of one. If my read on Miss K was even remotely accurate, it wouldn’t come as a surprise. 

And judging by the complete and utter lack of reaction on her face, I’d been absolutely right.

What did have her full attention, though, was everything I’d said about the Sprites themselves.

“And they simply… what?” she asked, pen pausing mid-scratch. “Restructured your entire body? Musculature? Tendons?”

I nodded. “As far as either my mother or I can tell, yeah. That’s the rough version. It felt like everything tied to my musculature was getting torn apart and put back together again—just… better.”

The pen resumed its steady motion against paper before Miss K looked up again, golden eyes flicking over me with renewed intensity.

“Fascinating,” she muttered.

The word alone made me feel like an experimental lab rat—again. Valeria’s stare had done the same thing yesterday, and I really didn’t want this becoming a trend anytime soon.

“It does explain why your posture and movements are so completely different to before,” Miss K continued, tapping the pen idly against her cheek. “I’ll probably have to rework your entire training regimen. Again.”

I winced before I could stop myself.

She noticed immediately and waved it off. “Don’t worry about it, Sera. This is quite literally my job. It’s unusual to have to rework someone’s shard this often, but it’s not unheard of.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Though, usually, it’s because of chipping new cybernetics in sequence, rapid bionic upgrades, or genetic milestones. Your situation, though?” 

She leaned back slightly. “That’s a whole lot more… interesting.”

Miss K kept poking and prodding for a while after that, clearly fascinated, circling back to the Sprites again and again from different angles—how they felt, if I could sense intent, if there had been patterns, colours, anything at all I could give her to chew on. 

I answered as honestly as I could, which mostly amounted to a lot of shrugging and variations of “I don’t really know.” 

I hadn’t used Anima Sight before today, hadn’t been able to see anything while it was happening, and beyond pain, exhaustion, and the vague sense of being taken apart and put back together, I just didn’t have much to offer.

Eventually, even Miss K had to concede that there wasn’t any blood left to squeeze from that stone. 

She sighed, set the pen down, and closed the notebook with a soft tap. 

“Alright, I think we’re good then,” she said, more thoughtful than disappointed. “It’s not on you, really. You didn’t exactly get eased into this whole mess—you got thrown into the deep end with weights strapped to your ankles.”

She stood up and came around the desk, leaning back against it the way she always did, suddenly a lot closer than before. 

My brain very unhelpfully latched onto that fact immediately, but I shut that down with a quick push of Edge before it could spiral into something stupid—again.

“I did talk to my Anima Master,” she continued, watching my reaction closely.

That snapped my focus right back where it belonged.

She held up both hands preemptively. “And before you say anything—no, I didn’t tell him who you are, as promised. Nothing personal. No names, no dojo, no background. Just the Anima-related oddities. But nothing about our relationship at all. That part stayed fully confidential.”

My chest still fluttered a bit at the phrasing—”our relationship”—but I crushed that too and quickly nodded for her to continue.

“He found your situation, let’s just say… fascinating,” she said, a faint, knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Fascinating enough that he agreed to let me pass on some of his teachings to you.”

My eyes widened before I could stop them. That was—huge.

“Not everything,” she added immediately, fixing me with a look that dared me to get carried away.

“Just the fundamentals. The absolute basics,” she continued. “Enough to give you a proper framework, so you’re not stumbling around blind and accidentally tearing yourself apart.”

I nodded, because… well fair.

And I didn’t want to tear myself apart either, so double fair.

“Now, anything beyond that,” she said, leaning in just a little, “he needs reassurances first. He wants to meet you. Evaluate you. Decide whether you’re actually ready for a full Practitioner’s introduction.”

I didn’t even bother hiding the wave of relief that hit me at that.

No strings attached basics now, with the chance of real training later—once I’d proven I wasn’t about to blow myself up or liquefy my own organs, or whatever the hell else misuse of Anima could cause?

That was… pretty much perfect.

I didn’t hesitate for even a second longer. 

I agreed to the conditions outright and thanked her—genuinely—because this was more than I’d realistically expected to get.

Miss K waved it off immediately with a sharp, toothy grin. 

“Don’t thank me yet,” she said. “This is just as much for me as it is for you. You’ve basically signed up to be my little Anima test pet.”

My Edge stuttered. Hard.

I stared at her for half a heartbeat, wondering—again—if she was doing this on purpose. 

The timing. The phrasing. The smile. 

I cranked Edge back up and forced myself to stay neutral, even as my brain loudly filed several complaints it would absolutely not be voicing out loud.

I was also half-wondering if Ego would have been the better choice here, but I didn’t want to rely on that particular Attribute too much. 

Where Edge took off… well the edge off of my emotions, Ego just absolutely smothered everything into a uniform paste.

It was too heavy handed for daily use like this.

She, of course, looked entirely too pleased with herself and kept going like she hadn’t just drop-kicked my composure off a cliff.

“I should probably warn you,” she said, teeth continuing to flash in that infuriatingly smug grin of hers, “I’ve never actually taught Anima like this before.”

I blinked. 

“That’s… reassuring.”

She waved it off. “Oh, relax. I’ve covered combat-adjacent applications before—higher dojo classes, advanced stuff. How to move Anima through strikes, timing, intent. Surface-level things like that.” 

She leaned in a bit, clearly enjoying this. “But fundamentals? Structure? Teaching someone from the ground up?” 

She shrugged. “That’s new territory.”

Fantastic.

“So congratulations,” she added lightly. “You’re my first-ever, proper Anima student!”

I resisted the urge to groan, which was definitely helped by the very real excitement that came with actually having somewhat of a plan for the future, for once.

But then she shifted gears, her tone settling into something more grounded and practical. 

“That said, I’ll need time. A few days. Maybe a week. I want a proper schedule for this. A real teaching plan.” She met my eyes squarely. “Anima isn’t something I’m going to wing with you. It’s extremely dangerous, it’s complex, and if I screw this up, you could get seriously hurt—or die.”

“I understand,” I said quickly. “Yeah. I would prefer not dying.”

And it did make sense. Completely. Logically. 

Internally, though, I was definitely a little crushed at the postponement. 

Having real answers—actual explanations—right now would’ve been incredible. 

I was so damn tired of operating on vibes, pain tolerance—or the lack thereof—and blind luck.

Still though… this was a win. A massive one.

No two ways about it.

With that part settled, Miss K wrapped up the Anima talk and smoothly pivoted to the upcoming dojo session. 

“Today’s going to be interesting,” she said, matter-of-fact. “I can’t be one hundred percent sure yet, but your capabilities have definitely skyrocketed.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Based on what?”

She snorted and gestured vaguely at me, “Muscle definition. And even more importantly—how you move now. This is not the Sera we’ve all seen last week, not even close.”

Which immediately made me wonder how the hell she could see anything through the gi’s layers of cloth, but I let that one go for now.

“Yeah,” I admitted. “Things changed quite a lot, I guess… Sprites did a number on me.”

I hesitated, then asked the question that had been sitting in my chest since I walked in. 

“So… how am I supposed to explain that to the others without dragging Anima into it? Because I really don’t want to do that yet. And I’m guessing you don’t want them to know about it either.”

She nodded and then smiled a devious grin.

That alone was not reassuring.

“I’ll handle it,” she said simply.

The uneasy weight that dropped into my stomach was immediate.

“What does that—”

Before I could finish, she pushed herself off the desk and headed for the office door, already done with the topic. 

She glanced back and crooked a finger at me. “Come on. The session’s about to start.”

And just like that, I was already out of time to worry—because whatever explanation she had planned, I was apparently about to have to live with whatever consequences it caused…

—

“You’re all going to have to work harder than you have so far,” Miss K announced, practically beaming as she let her gaze sweep across the group, lingering just long enough on each of them to make the point stick.

Standing shoulder to shoulder with Kenzie and Tom, with Jin looming just off to his left, I still felt that low, crawling unease in my gut. I had no idea what Miss K had decided to tell them as an excuse for my changes—and that uncertainty was doing me zero favors.

“Because if you don’t,” she continued lightly, “you’re going to fall behind.”

That did it. 

Every last scrap of attention in the room snapped into place, if it hadn’t already.

She let the silence sit for a beat longer than necessary, then lifted a finger and pointed straight at me. 

My stomach dropped.

“Sera’s had a bit of an upgrade,” Miss K said cheerfully. “And no—before anyone asks—it’s not Cybernetic, Bionic, or Genetic in origin.”

That earned more than a few raised brows.

“This one’s baseline-human centric,” she went on, her smile turning sharp and knowing, “which, oddly enough, makes it even more interesting, really. Baseline humans generally don’t have upgrades like this, but… Well, you will see for yourself, I guess.”

All eyes swung to me at once. 

Miss K’s tone hardened just a notch as she added. “I’m certain I don’t need to remind any of you that talking about this outside the dojo will come with immediate and particularly unpleasant consequences, correct?”

The three of them immediately nodded and “Yes, Ma’am!”, “Yes, Master!”’s followed.

“Excellent,” she said, clapping her hands once in clear satisfaction. “Now—Sera wasn’t here last session because she underwent an experimental procedure. I don’t have the full details, and frankly, I don’t need them. A brief look was more than enough to tell me this:”

She gestured vaguely at me.

“If you want to keep up with her, your effort from here on out is going to need to double.”

That was when the staring really started. 

I could practically feel them trying to peel me apart layer by layer, searching for whatever had changed about me.

I did my best to keep my eyes on Miss K, trying not to betray my unease at the situation.

“Normally,” Miss K continued, unfazed, “I’d test something like this myself before letting it anywhere near a sparring floor. But since this upgrade is firmly based on baseline-human parameters, I don’t have to worry about Cybernetic malfunctions, Bionic failures, or sudden claws popping out of her wrists, that could become dangerous in unexpected ways.”

Kenzie’s snort at the claw comment was the only sound breaking the quiet.

“So,” she finished, “I’ll let you lot explore her new ceiling firsthand. I’ll be watching closely, of course—to step in if you underestimate her. Or if she underestimates herself.”

Then Miss K turned and pointed at Kenzie.

“You’ve sparred with Sera the most. Care to do the honors of being the first one to try?”

Kenzie studied me for a long second, her fluffy ears twitching excitedly, before her lips curled into a grin full of teeth. 

“Wouldn’t let anyone else take that from me, Ma’am.”

Moments later, Jin and Tom stepped off the mat alongside Miss K, leaving just me and Kenzie facing each other with the familiar stretch of sparring distance between us.

“You know,” Kenzie said casually while we waited for Miss K’s signal, head tilting slightly, “I was wondering why you smelled different again. But that whole procedure thing… yeah. Guess that explains it.”

I gave her a crooked, slightly pained smile. 

I had absolutely no idea how to respond to that, so I latched onto the safest thing I could think of. “Your nose is incredible.”

That earned me a sharp-toothed grin. “It really is, isn’t it?”

Before I could come up with anything else even remotely coherent, Miss K’s voice carried in from the sidelines. “Get ready, both of you. Standard sparring rules. Kenzie, try to get a bead on Sera’s new capabilities—don’t underestimate her. Sera… figure out what you can do.”

We both nodded without breaking eye contact.

Kenzie dropped into her usual low stance, powerful legs bunching beneath her like coiled steel, every line of her posture screaming explosive movement. 

She looked ready to launch at me the second the signal dropped.

I mirrored my usual stance out of habit—and immediately felt the difference. 

My center shifted a hair lower, my balance settling more naturally than before, posture aligning itself without conscious effort. They were the same quiet adjustment I’d noticed back when Valeria had made me test myself after the Upgrades.

I took a split second to check in on myself, making sure the unconscious limiter was fully disengaged. No point in holding back now on that front.

It was off. Good.

‘Let’s keep [Flow] in the back pocket for now,’ I told myself, steadying my breathing. ‘Save it as a surprise. Preferably on Miss K—maybe manage to snag that reward for landing a hit.’

No need to show every card right out of the gate.

Miss K’s hands came together in a sharp, echoing clap—and Kenzie exploded forward.

She shot off the mat like a round out of a railgun, low stance snapping into a full-body pounce in a blink. 

Even held back, cautious, she was damn fast. Faster than a person had any right to be. 

Her first strike wasn’t meant to land—it was a probe, a testing swipe meant to force a reaction.

I slid sideways without really thinking about it.

My footwork felt clean, grounded, like my body already knew how to move before I consciously decided on where. 

Kenzie sailed past where I’d been standing, claws cutting air instead of skin, and I felt a flicker of surprise ripple through me. Gone was the slight panic that usually came with facing Kenzie, as her pressure had been incredibly difficult to deal with for me before.

‘Oh. This… is so easy?’

But Kenzie didn’t slow down. She never did. 

She twisted mid-landing and came again, this time with a low kick meant to sweep my legs, followed immediately by a snapping elbow. I let the kick bounce against my shin, rolled my shoulder through the elbow, and felt the impact skim past instead of crack into me. 

Every exchange pushed the pace higher—her movements getting sharper, more aggressive, mine growing looser, more confident by the second.

This wasn’t like the static reaction testing with Valeria yesterday.

This was full-body CQC; a lot more involved.

Kenzie darted, leapt, rebounded off the mat, forcing angles, forcing commitment. 

I answered in kind—sidestepping instead of retreating, turning with her momentum instead of fighting it, my breath hot as my heart kicked into overdrive. Each near-miss fed into the next, and somewhere along the line, a thought crept in uninvited.

I was keeping up.

No—

‘I am ahead.’

Kenzie went for another pounce, this one meant to truly go for a clean hit—one of Kenzie’s full-commitment attacks. 

In the past, I would’ve backed off.
Would’ve stepped aside, if I could manage it.
Would’ve eaten it and tried to recover, if I couldn’t.

But this time, I stepped in.

I slipped forwards and to the side as she passed, then reached out on pure instinct—and my hand closed around her right leg mid-air.

For a split second, everything froze. 

Her eyes widened. Mine probably did too.

Then I planted my feet, felt my back and shoulders engage, and pulled.

Hard.

The world lurched as I swung her through the air, rotating with her momentum, the sheer weight of another human stretching my balance—but my Body held. 

I twisted, put everything I had into it, and then slammed her into the mat after a half-turn to bleed off the excess momentum.

The impact boomed.

Air and spit burst from her mouth with a grunt as her back hit with a loud thud, and I staggered a few steps myself, chest heaving, arms trembling from the effort of catching and throwing a whole-ass person my own size—if markedly lighter.

I stood there breathing hard, heart hammering, staring down at a groaning Kenzie in stunned disbelief.

I had really done that just now.

And judging by the stunned silence around the dojo—

Everyone else was just as surprised…

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[TAS] Volume 2 - Interlude 62.5: Keeps

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Volume 2 - Chapter 59 - Trust has just released on RR with only minor changes.

For the Wolf Lords, this chapter has seen no changes, barring the Title having a number now.

And also: Please do not read the chapters here on Patreon, but go for the googledoc, .pdf or .epub instead. Patreon butchers all forms of formatting and you're missing out on easier and more enjoyable reading experiences.

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Another Interlude today!

I've been doing quite a few of them recently, I'm aware, but it's part of the acceleration process of the story, to get us where we need to be.

Getting out of Thea's head allows for some time jumps that would otherwise be tough for me to justify, and allows for Thea to learn things off-screen at times, so these chapters serve as a way to both progress the story (as unlike Intermissions, Interludes always go right back to Thea's story directly) as well as show some other important aspects of the world happening.

I don't think there should be any more Interludes anytime soon, but I'm keeping this avenue open for whenever it seems like a great fit.

Hope you will enjoy this one!

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I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is the link to the chapter:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1d2Kf4IpTzd8KevbpEWOj2XCP4mxUdzSJqGRSbuJHewc/edit?usp=sharing

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Volume 2 - Interlude: Keeps

“When people talk about Legacies, they tend to romanticize the whole thing—like we’re some kind of noble houses of old-Terra chosen by fate to carve our names into the halls of the UHF. 

“That’s nonsense. 

“A Legacy is exactly what the name implies: A continuous passing-on of knowledge, sharpened and polished across generations. There is nothing mystical about it.

“A Legacy exists because one generation of Marines trains the next, who then trains the next, and so on—until the knowledge stops being a pile of good habits and becomes a system; a method. A tradition strong enough to survive the shifting tides of doctrine, politics, and the very Galactic War itself.

“In theory, any retired Marine who takes the time to teach their child about the Corps—its culture, its tactics, its way of life—counts as a Legacy. A generation can pass on a great deal. 

“But there’s a difference between handing over a few lessons and handing over more than six generations’ worth of refined doctrine, training structures, and hard-won insight. 

“One generation is practically nothing, in the grand scheme of the Allbright System’s complexities. Two is fragile. Three is promising. Only after at least six generations do you really get the beginnings of something worthy of the title of a Legacy.

“That is where the divide between Minor and Major Legacies sits. 

“Minors are those families in the early stages—less than six generations deep. They may be talented, even exceptional, but they have not existed long enough to burn away their inefficiencies. Their teachings still wobble, their results are still inconsistent by the very nature of their lack of refinement. 

“A Major Legacy has endured long enough for its methods to become sharpened, tested, and, most of all, proven.

“Now, don’t mistake this for misplaced arrogance. The Prime Legacies likely say the same about us—perhaps with good reason. Every rung of this ladder believes the ones above are overrated and the ones below are unpolished. 

“Tradition builds pride by necessity; and pride inevitably builds blind spots. That, too, is part of our Legacy: To impart the knowledge of this danger onto our children as well.

“There is however, one truth we all agree on: The Allbright System does not allow for perfect preparation. No Legacy—Minor, Major, or Prime—can guarantee its children will follow the exact path you imagined for them. 

“We can shape them. Guide them. Give them every advantage our ancestors and we ourselves carved out. 

“But the System always introduces its own chaos.

“So, what truly matters? The only thing that has always truly mattered in the UHF: Personal merit.

“The drive to carve out what is rightfully yours with your own two hands, the drive to be the best with your own blood, sweat and tears, and the drive to use whatever knowledge you are given, or can get your hands on, to your best advantage. 

“Legacies, in this dance, simply tilt the battlefield heavily in our favor, giving our children a head start toward this very excellence.

“After that, it’s up to them to claw their way into history and leave even further improved foundations behind for their own children.

”That is what makes a Legacy.”

—

[Excerpt from an interview recorded for the Vespera System Historical Initiative (VSHI) – Raymond Oleaven Masters, Patriarch of the Masters Major Legacy, PFC927]

======

======

PoV: Rachel Veronica Masters

“Victory!” rang the female announcer’s voice through the arena, before Rachel’s avatar disintegrated and she found herself back in the booth inside one of the Sovereign’s arcades.

It had been over two hours since her irritating conversation with Callahan and McKay, most of which she had spent grinding through training exercises in Terra’s games, trying—and failing—to burn off the lingering frustration. 

Yet Callahan’s complete and utter disregard for her very existence clung to her like an oil film.

“How fucking dare he…” she muttered through clenched teeth, wiping the sweat from her forehead. The VR-Dive-Helmet always made her run hot, and her long golden hair stuck messily to her damp skin. “Asking ‘Who are you again?’ like he didn’t fucking know! Piece of shit!”

There were a few mistakes she could already pick out during her time in the UHF Marine Corps—ones that would undoubtedly haunt her for a long time.

The first, and most obvious, was her reaction to Major Quinn’s devious trap—painfully clear in hindsight, especially when no other Award had gone to more than one Marine at a time. She had been warned about some of the Proprietor’s habits by her teachers, but she hadn’t expected to be on the legendary Major’s radar from the very beginning.

“A stupid assumption, Rachel,” she chided herself, leaning back heavily in the seat and staring at the ceiling. “You’re a Masters; you always talk about how much you’ve gained from your family—knowledge and training most of all—and then you ignore that exact legacy the moment you actually need to remember you are one? Stupid. Beyond stupid.”

It should have been obvious that Major Quinn—as well as the other officers, professors, and command staff aboard the Sovereign—would keep a close eye on her every move.

She was a Masters, after all. And that came with two sides, not just the favorable one.

Her reaction and the blowup at her squad had cost her a lot of the goodwill she’d built up—some of which was likely never to be repaired.

‘Won’t matter if I make it into Alpha Squad—when I make it into Alpha Squad,’ she told herself, but cracks had already begun to form in that certainty—cracks large enough that even she couldn’t ignore them.

Those had mostly come from her second mistake—the one that had probably given Callahan enough confidence to mock her so openly. 

“I really should have upgraded my Attributes, filled out my Abilities, and prepared my equipment properly before facing Itoku that day,” she muttered, running a hand through the damp strands of her hair. 

Losing that fight had been a mistake, and shocking in more ways than one.

Not only had it given Callahan—and the rest of Alpha Squad—a real reason to believe they could win; after all, Itoku had already beaten her once, so why wouldn’t the others think they could do the same? But the most shocking part had been her own lack of knowledge.

‘That damn [Redundant Organs] Ability…’

She had searched frantically for answers after her defeat, trying to figure out how Itoku had survived a blow that should have been fatal, only to eventually get an answer through an anonymous message. 

A message she hadn’t known the source of—until earlier today.

“A damn Sen, of all Legacies, in the same Drive, huh…? At least she seems to be on my side for now, giving me information like this,” Rachel muttered. “Whatever her goals are for Callahan, it doesn’t look like she’s trying to help him beat me—or help Alpha Squad as a whole, really. Major Legacies should stick together like that, after all. Only makes sense.”

That had probably been why the Sen girl—Evelyn, as Rachel had learned—had given her the details on Itoku’s Ability days ago, after her own attempts at gathering the information had failed repeatedly. 

The reasoning behind Evelyn’s actions was clear as well: It wouldn’t do for a Major Legacy to embarrass themselves against some mid-world grunt, as spectacular of a specimen as Itoku inarguably was. 

Rachel had even prepared a long, strongly worded letter to her teachers back on Vespera Prime, to very kindly inform them that their lack of knowledge on powerful low-grade Abilities was dangerous for a young Marine’s early career.

“It’s probably not something mum and dad ever had to deal with, considering how stacked this Drive is compared to any others before,” she sighed. “So I get why it probably didn’t appear important to them… But they still should have known! The Drives have been getting more and more high-roll every year, they even said so! Someone should’ve given me a primer on the best Abilities to grab right after the first Assessment, so I don’t have to swim through the sludge myself!”

But that was the nature of the System. 

She’d been warned about that—the possibility that she’d still be missing information. 

That she’d have to do her own research, find her own path through all the chaos.

And she had been prepared for that, honestly.

She just hadn’t expected it to literally punch her in the face several times, then crack her skull and splatter her brain across the training grounds, despite the amount of training and knowledge she had ahead of everyone else.

‘I’m ready next time, Itoku… I know your one trick now, and I’ve picked it up myself, so… what do you really have to threaten me with anymore?’

A wide, sharp grin stretched across her face as she imagined her next chance to face Alpha Squad’s Offensive Heavy.

‘I should honestly thank you, Itoku. [Redundant Organs] should have been part of our Legacy ages ago. I have no idea how my parents, teachers, and ancestors never thought of it as a possible staple, especially early on. You’ve shown me something genuinely valuable that I can pass down too...'

She was now more than ready to take on Callahan and whatever support Alpha Squad threw at her.

She was going to play for keeps...

—

—

PoV: Peria Akin

“No. No, really. It makes complete sense she’s also a fucking Psyker,” Peria muttered for what felt like the tenth time in just as many minutes. “Why wouldn’t she be. It’s not like she can’t already crush my skull in one hand like it’s pudding. Why wouldn’t she also be able to control fucking reality itself or whatever the living fuck it is that they do? It’s actually very sensible, if you think about it.”

And, in a strange way, she actually really believed that, deep inside.

There had been a full moment of panic, of course, right after watching the recording of the Digital Mission the girl had sent her—right at the point where she finally understood what kind of absolute monster had somehow chosen her, of all people, to be the contact for her weapons needs.

She had already known bits of it from the recent Assessment highlights still trickling out of the UHF MC’s media division, of course. 

The newest showcase had featured an impressive assault run by Alpha Squad. 

The context for what they were actually doing was vague, but the part where Thea launched herself halfway into the sky through a series of jumps and what had appeared to be some form of air-platforms, just to get a cleaner angle on a few targets? 

That had been everywhere—the Sovereign’s internal clerk forums were still buzzing with edits and replay loops of the moment.

But none of that had prepared her for watching Thea through the lens of an entire, almost unedited, Digital Mission from start to finish. And definitely not for the fact that she had been able to jump straight into Thea’s own point of view and see everything exactly as the girl must have seen it, whenever she wanted to.

What came after the sheer, unfiltered terror of realizing the girl was the Sovereign’s Ace for a very good reason… was a surprising moment of clarity and relief, on more than one front.

First and most obviously, she would never be facing the girl on a battlefield.

That alone took a huge weight off her shoulders.

‘Being a simple store clerk isn’t so bad, not when it means you don’t have to worry about something like her ending up across the field from you,’ she thought, a crooked smile tugging at her lips.

The second reason was… strange, but somehow comforting. 

It was the realization that, if Thea really wanted to kill her, she wouldn’t need to crush Peria’s skull with her bare hands—her main fear up until now. 

A simple thought would probably be enough, since the girl was a damn Psyker.

Not that Peria believed Thea would ever do something like that, of course.

The girl was extremely polite and downright adorable in how awkward she appeared at times, but given the sheer difference in power between them, it was not something that Peria had managed to fully set aside as a recurring possibility in her mind.

‘Everyone seems reasonable and downright cute at times when they’re not angry about something in the moment,’ she reminded herself. 

She’d learned that one early in life—the hard way.

And the third reason was the most practical of all: If Thea saw value in her, then Peria had that monster on her side in any future calculations.

‘As long as I can somehow keep her happy,’ she grimaced.

That part had been the hardest over the last twelve hours.

Trying to make sense of what Thea had been doing inside the DM had been tough enough—Peria barely understood what the Marines’ objective even was, much less why the girl was hauling all three Gram variants around inside the trenches at once. But trying to predict Thea’s questions and requests on top of that? It had nearly driven her mad.

Thankfully, help was on the way.

She checked the time on her datascreen again—for the twentieth time in two minutes—and right on cue, the moment 04:15 hit, her datapad chimed with an incoming call.

“Bless you and your punctuality, Jonas,” Peria muttered, snatching up the device and accepting the call right away.

Her own sleep-deprived, messy reflection appeared beside the face of a slightly older man, his short, rumpled black hair contrasting against pale skin. 

His red eyes and raised eyebrow said everything without a single word.

“Thanks for taking the time, Jonas,” she said quickly. “I know it’s late, but I really need to pick your brain on this.”

“So you said in your messages,” he replied, tilting his head. “So… what exactly has you this rattled, Peri? You’re not the type to practically beg anyone for help. Should I be worried? You’re not dragging me into something I’m going to regret, right…?”

“It’s nothing bad for you, I swear!” She said quickly, lifting her free hand as if to ward off the suspicion he hadn’t even voiced yet. “Really. I’m just… stressed about work. Well—semi-work, semi-personal contacts, I guess? There’s… this  client, and they’re going to ask me questions about things, but I can’t prepare the answers ahead of time because I don’t even know what the questions are.”

Jonas blinked once. “...I’m going to need more than that, Peri.”

She let out a thin, exhausted sigh. “It’s a Marine. Obviously. And the questions are going to be combat related—more specifically about the weapon variants I sold them a few days ago. I need to pick your brain about the models, about the configurations, about what you think they might ask. I basically need to simulate the whole conversation before it actually happens, so I know what kind of stuff they might ask and what I don’t know I don’t know about yet.”

Jonas sat back in his chair, taking that in. 

Then, slowly, he nodded. “Okay… but why not just ask the client what they want ahead of time?”

Peria made a pained sound. “Because that would be horrible form. They’re a VIP, Jonas. An important one. I can’t just ask them to pre-submit their questions like I’m sending them homework. It’d make me look completely unprofessional—and probably violate several hundred rules.”

That got his full attention. 

His eyes sharpened; the raised eyebrow dropped in favor of a more serious look. 

“A VIP Marine,” he echoed. “Alright. That explains the panic.”

“Yeah,” she muttered.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Alright then. What else can you tell me? Start from the top. Everything you’ve got. Let’s figure this out.”

Peria exhaled a long-held breath, slumping a little as she muttered, “Thank you, Jonas. You’re a damn life-saver…”

Then she straightened up again, drew in a steadying breath, and launched into the full rundown—twelve hours’ worth of jumbled observations, worries, and notes spilling out in a fast but surprisingly organized stream. 

Jonas listened without interrupting, his expression unreadable.

She kept things careful, leaving out Thea’s name, squad, and anything else that could identify her. She only covered what mattered for the upcoming conversation: General combat style, the fact she was a Psyker, how she used the weapons in question, the mods she’d made both in and outside the DM, and a few details Peria had picked up during their first meeting. 

Everything else stayed firmly off the table.

The whole explanation took almost an hour—Jonas only chiming in with the occasional sharp, targeted question—before Peria finally sank back into her couch and let herself breathe again. 

Jonas stayed quiet, eyes distant, clearly processing everything she’d just unloaded. 

At least, Peria hoped that was what he was doing and he hadn’t simply fallen asleep with his eyes open.

Jonas eventually leaned back in his chair, confirming he was not in-fact asleep, arms folding loosely as his eyes drifted off in thought. He stayed quiet long enough that Peria started to worry she had overloaded him, but then he let out a slow breath and nodded to himself.

“…Alright,” he said, voice steady. “I think I’ve got enough to work with for now.”

Peria perked up a little, tension easing from her shoulders.

Jonas continued, “We can start sorting through what this VIP might actually be after. If their combat style looks anything like what you described—and since they’re the one who bought those variants from you—we can narrow down the likely angles of questioning pretty fast. There’s only so many things someone like that would want to know—even if they sound deeply interested in the matter as a whole.”

He rubbed his stubbled jaw thoughtfully, the faintest hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“So. Let’s dig into what they might be planning to ask you and play this through a couple of times, to see where it leads...”

—

They spent another five hours going back and forth on different ideas, running mock-meetings and working through every angle they could think of. 

By the end of it, Peria was sprawled across her couch, head pounding with a brutal mix of sleep-deprivation and too much thinking.

“I think that about wraps it up, Peri,” Jonas said, yawning hard. “And if all that prep doesn’t make the VIP happy, then it’s not on you. You’ve got the logs to prove you did your homework, and I can vouch too.”

That made her perk up. 

She reached for the datapad she’d abandoned on the coffee table two hours earlier when her arms couldn’t keep holding it up.

“Listen, Jonas,” she said. “This isn’t about work… not really. This VIP… I… They saved my life. It’s more than just wanting to do a good job. I really don’t want to disappoint them.”

His red eyes widened, and he leaned forward. “Saved your life…?”

“Didn’t have the time to talk to you about that yet… Was planning on it, the next time we met up for drinks,” Peria sighed heavily. “The first time I met them, I ended up in a room with all the talking heads—every single one. Regional sector manager included. I was being terminated. Guaranteed.”

Jonas’ eyes practically bulged at that.

“I didn’t exactly behave like an Abundant Ammunition clerk should around a VIP—tons of violations of that stupid manual. You know how it is. But the VIP… they’re a big one, Jonas. The kind you cannot afford to mess up with.”

He nodded slowly.

“So the talking heads were furious I broke protocol. They listed every little thing I did wrong, right to my face, building the case in real time like my presence didn’t even matter. I was done. Truly done. No wiggle room, nothing. And I just sat there, because what else could I do? Clerks like us mess up, we get terminated. That’s it.”

She rubbed her forehead, feeling the memory settle back in like a weight.

“But then—Jonas, I swear I still get chills—the VIP came back. After they’d already gotten their gear, paid, everything. Mid-termination meeting, I get another VIP request pinging on my datapad. The talking heads kicked me out instantly, because even they can’t ignore a VIP summon. And then… they asked for my personal contact. Asked for me, specifically, to be their personal weapons tech going forward.”

Jonas let out a long, low whistle, sinking back in pure disbelief. “And suddenly the talking heads couldn’t afford to let you go, huh?”

She nodded hard. “One-eighty, instantly. Massive promotion. Larger room—” she moved around the datapad to show it, “—but most important: No termination. The VIP is the only reason I’m still here. I owe them, Jonas. And they’re actually… really nice. Personable. Easy to talk to. So I really don’t want this to go wrong. This is the only thing I can do to repay them for their kindness—intentional or not. They literally saved my life. You get me?”

“I get you,” Jonas said gently, the tired edge in his voice softening. “And don’t worry, Peri. You’re not going to disappoint them. You’ve put more work into this than most full research teams do in a month. If anything, they’ll be impressed you took their request this seriously.”

Peria let her head sink back into the couch cushion, eyes closing for a moment as the tension finally eased out of her shoulders.

“Yeah… I really hope so,” she murmured.

Jonas gave a quiet, thoughtful hum. “Just remember: Whatever else happens, you’re not walking into that meeting unprepared. You’ve done everything you possibly could.”

She nodded, even if he likely couldn’t see it clearly from her slumped angle. “Thanks, Jonas. Really. And… sorry for keeping you up all night. I know you had a long day already.”

“Anytime, Peri. And don’t mention it; I know you’d do the same for me if I needed you,” he said, and the sincerity in his voice made her smile despite the pounding in her head.

Jonas was good people—the first real friend she’d made aboard the Sovereign, and probably the only one she’d ever actually call that.

A few pleasantries and a wish for a restful night later, Peria ended the call, letting the room fall into a comfortable silence. 

She sat with it for a few breaths, then forced herself up from the couch.

She shuffled into the small kitchen area and grabbed one of the injectors from the counter—the boosters she’d bought after her shift had abruptly imploded yesterday, knowing she’d need something to keep her sharp for the lengthy prep.

She pressed it to her neck and released the dose, feeling the cool rush spread through her veins. Her headache thinned out almost instantly, replaced by a sharp, almost jittery clarity.

“Haaa… These things are pure poison, aren’t they,” she muttered with a tired chuckle. “Only for today. If I get hooked on these little bastards, I’ll end up drowning in debt instead of heading home with a nice fat savings account.”

Shaking off the last of her grogginess, she collected herself and left her room, heading straight for the virtual firing range she’d booked out for the entire day in the store’s backrooms.

Inside, an array of weapons sat waiting for her—three Gram variants and the two Hybrid-types she’d sold to Thea just days prior.

She reached for the first gun, the Gauss-variant Gram, slid in a magazine, and settled it against her shoulder.

“Alright,” she murmured, lining up her first shot. “Let’s see how these things really perform. First-hand experience always beats staring at second-hand data…”

—

It was early afternoon, and after a long, relaxing shower, Peria was now fiddling with the sixth outfit she had tried on in the past hour.

“That should do,” she muttered, nodding at her reflection. “Yeah. That should do nicely.”

It was technically just a VIP consultation—more like a private meeting between herself and Thea—but that didn’t mean looks didn’t matter. Presentation was half the job when dealing with someone that important.

‘If she were a man, she’d definitely be more friendly to me in this outfit,’ she thought, brushing a loose streak of hair behind her ear. ‘Now whether she’s into women or not… guess we’ll see. Wouldn’t be unheard of, considering she’s a Marine. Something about their freakily boosted physiology makes that whole attraction-to-everyone thing way more common, or so people say. Who knows if that’s true… But nobody dislikes something pretty to look at during a long conversation, so it’s a win either way.’

She put away her makeup and started clearing the outfits scattered around the apartment, since the rest of her prep work was finally done.

Time to head to the store, where she and Thea had agreed to meet for the afternoon. 

Peria gave herself one last look in the mirror, admiring how the tailored dark-blue blouse hugged her frame while still looking perfectly professional.

‘Yep. Worth every credit,’ she thought with a smug little smile.

It had been her first big purchase aboard the Sovereign, after several months of working at Abundant Ammunitions at Jonas’ behest. He had extolled the virtues of having something dolled-up-but-professional available for moments just like these, when important VIPs or otherwise interested parties wanted a meeting.

It had come in handy several times over the recent years, so she had definitely gotten her credits worth already.

Then her mind drifted.

‘I wonder if Thea would even be the type to look twice at a clerk like me…? She’s probably drowning in suitors by now, right? Not that I’d be interested—it’s more the muscle-y guys for me. Usually. Though I can’t deny the danger factor with her is… ridiculous. And she still somehow feels perfectly safe and cute. What a nastily alluring combin—’

She froze.

“What the fuck are you even thinking about, Peria? Get it the fuck together, girl.”

She knew the signs immediately: Booster withdrawal.

They always caused people’s thoughts to go absolutely haywire in all the wrong directions—directions that they definitely were not supposed to go in, more often than not.

And her last dose had been three and a half hours ago now. 

If she didn’t top up, she’d be a jittery mess before they even started getting into the nuts and bolts of the conversation.

One last shot to top-up with, then she slipped an extra injector into her bag and left the apartment, heading down the hallway toward the Abundant Ammunitions portal. 

The route was much shorter now after her promotion.

Stepping through, she moved from the backrooms to the front of the store, settling in near the registers to wait for Thea’s arrival…

—

Peria caught more than a few stares from her coworkers and the steady trickle of customers coming through the doors, but she ignored all of it. 

Her thoughts kept looping back through her prep, double-checking that she remembered every bit of data she had collected and where she had stored it on her datapad—not that she couldn’t just use the search function, but still. 

Saying she was nervous felt like an understatement, yet she kept her expression professionally calm, greeting people with a polite smile, listening when spoken to, nodding at the right moments.

Technically she wasn’t on duty today—Thea had paid for her full day off, after all—but that didn’t mean she could afford to trash her own reputation in the store. 

Or Abundant Ammunition’s, for that matter.

After a few minutes of lingering near the front, the attention she kept getting pushed her patience to the limit. She politely explained to yet another Marine that she was only waiting for a consultation appointment, then let her eyes sweep the storefront again in hopes of spotting Thea.

‘Please show up soon… I know I can’t complain about having shown up early on my part, but I could really use some backroom and workshop time right abou—’

“Hi Peria,” Thea said right beside her.

Peria jumped so hard she nearly tripped backwards, her heart punching straight into her throat.

“Ahh…! Sorry!” Thea blurted, looking genuinely guilty for startling her.

Peria gathered herself, though not before thinking, with pure exasperation, ‘People that tall and especially someone that fucking lethal should not be able to appear out of nowhere like that—what the fuck is the Allbright System doing to us?!’

“Thea! Glad you could make it,” she said with a real smile after taking a steadying breath. “Don’t worry about that, I was just lost in thought and you caught me off guard—entirely my fault. Sorry for the unsightly display.”

It was only then that she noticed Thea looked different from last time. 

Not only was she dressed nicely—a well-chosen green blouse that Peria immediately approved of as a certified blouse-enjoyer and a pair of tight-fitted pants—instead of her UHF uniform like last time, but she was also wearing some light makeup. 

A clean blend of eyeshadow and almost-invisible masking; nothing heavy-handed, but then again, the girl really didn’t need anything heavy in the first place. 

It showed a good grasp of her own appearance and some solid experience with makeup, which Peria instantly flagged as potentially useful future information.

‘She’s good with fashion and experienced with makeup too, huh…? Anything this girl isn’t good at?’ she thought with a quiet spark of amusement mixed with exasperation. ‘I guess I’m not the only one who figured dressing up a bit for a long meeting was a smart idea. Good job, Peria—looks like you actually nailed that call.’

Thea stood beside her somewhat awkwardly, clearly weighing how to move the conversation forward, so Peria stepped in and said, “Why don’t we head to the back? I’ve got a room prepared, away from all the busy nonsense out here.”

The girl’s face lit up and she nodded, “That sounds great! I have a lot to ask about—did you have enough time to check out the recording I sent over?”

Peria almost tripped as she led the way, not expecting Thea to just openly bring up personal dealings in the middle of the store with half a dozen customers within earshot—but then again, nothing about her suggested she cared much about professional etiquette to begin with. 

So that one was on Peria, really.

“I did, yes. Thanks to your very generous offer of payment for my time,” she replied smoothly as she guided Thea through the aisles. “It was… impressive, to say the least. I saw you used all three Gram variants; those are part of what you want to discuss, right?”

Thea nodded a little too eagerly. “Yes! I tried them all out because I wanted to get a better feel for them. I’ve tried them before, right after Integration, but never in a real-ish situation. So I figured I might as well test them properly since I had to do the DM anyway… well, not this one in particular, but a DM. And not necessarily yesterday but any day, really… Ehh… Anyway, I wanted to talk about them, yes.”

Peria couldn’t stop the smile breaking through her professional mask at the girl’s adorable rambling—though the content of her words hit her a second later, and the smile twisted into a lopsided mix of bewilderment and deep concern.

She was glad Thea was slightly behind her, so she couldn’t see her face.

‘She’s talking about killing hundreds of people like it was a simple experiment—nothing more. Like it was just a casual stroll. “Oh, just a little test, no worries,” she says, melting her own brain and breaking every gun she brought in. What kind of testing is that?! There are virtual shooting ranges, Thea! You can just go there and fire the guns! You don’t need to do… any of that other stuff!’

She wanted to blurt all of that out—and more—but she knew better.

And she couldn’t exactly fully emphasize with the realities of being a Marine either. 

Killing people was their job, just like repairing and knowing things about weapons was hers, so chiding Thea for doing exactly what her job entailed would be fairly hypocritical.

So instead, she turned slightly mid-walk and gave Thea a bright, professional smile. “That’s great to hear! I’ve prepared some data on all of them, including the detailed spec and design sheets from Starfire Armaments’ designers themselves—that one took me a bit to get, but I hope it’ll be of use to us.”

Thea’s eyes widened, lighting up instantly. “You… You got the full, detailed spec sheets from the original designers?!”

Peria nodded, unable to stop the swell of smug pride.

She’d pulled those through a favor from Irisha, another clerk she’d met aboard the Sovereign and helped transfer to a different Abundant Ammunition location on a separate ship around a year back, after certain… unpleasant issues with an overly handsy manager had made staying problematic.

‘Calling that favor in was absolutely worth it,’ she thought, watching the sheer awe on Thea’s face.

“I did. Only the best for you, Thea,” she added with a small, playful wink before turning forward again and leading her into the backrooms—toward the private consultation room she had prepared for their long talk.

Her confidence settled a little deeper.

The first reveal had landed perfectly—but she still had plenty more to show.

‘Time to earn my keep…’

[Wolf Lord+ | Draft] Volume 2 - Chapter 65 - Squad Time I

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Welcome to the draft release of Volume 2 - Chapter 65 - Squad Time I for y'all.

As always, a quick reminder that this chapter is still in the process of being workshopped by me and that this is simply the first-draft.

And also: Please do not read the chapters here on Patreon, but go for the googledoc, .pdf or .epub instead. Patreon butchers all forms of formatting and you're missing out on easier and more enjoyable reading experiences.

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Should be a two-parter, if things go according to plan.

Recapping 6 DMs, even in a condensed and "tell"-y format, is still a lot of words!

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I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is the link to the chapter:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1hEJvCjxM-NXzGJEoyGiFElHPkUsQWLHzY4uhIouyJnM/edit?usp=sharing

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Volume 2 - Chapter 65 - Squad Time I

UHF Command has confirmed mixed progress across both primary fronts as the Galactic War enters its next operational phase.

On the western front, UHF forces have secured three systems along the Eltaris Corridor, including full control of the Rhyx Belt and the outer worlds of Verin and Lasker-7. 

These gains have come at a steep cost. 

Two full UHF battlegroups have been declared combat-ineffective following sustained fleet actions near the Kade Expanse, with one additional battlegroup withdrawn after taking heavy losses during a failed push toward the Republic-held industrial hub of Tarsis Prime. 

The Iter Sector remains locked in heavy fighting on all fronts, with neither side showing any clear signs of gaining the upper hand.

Meanwhile, Stellar Republic counterattacks remain aggressive, and analysts warn that the western front is likely to stay fluid for the foreseeable future.

The eastern front paints an even harsher picture within the last month. 

UHF forces have been forced to abandon the Myridian Spur after coordinated Dominion strikes collapsed local supply lines. Four worlds have been evacuated under fire, and three battlegroups were confirmed destroyed or missing during the retreat, including the veteran 17th Hammer Group. 

However, UHF Command has reported a major strategic success in the same theater as well: The capture of the Ashkel Rift Gate, cutting Dominion reinforcement routes into two adjacent sectors. 

Dominion losses have been described as “severe but unverified,” with intelligence suggesting at least seven enemy battlegroups shattered during the ongoing battles.

High Command has emphasized that while territorial lines continued to shift, neither front showed signs of decisive collapse or victory. 

“This war is being fought tooth and nail,” a spokesperson stated. “Don’t misunderstand: Every system taken or lost feeds directly into the long game. The UHF remains fully committed across all theaters and our Marines, Navy and Armoured Division are putting their entire backs into every fight.”

Further updates are expected following the next fleet rotation cycle.

—

[UHF News Net: Strategic Update – War Fronts, PFC 943]

======

======

It had been a thoroughly thrilling experience to watch Corvus’ recorded DM with the rest of Alpha Squad—Thea couldn’t deny that.

The leader of Alpha Squad gave steady, play-by-play rundowns of his thoughts as they followed his point of view through the sped-up recording, slowing things down for the important or especially tense moments.

One thing that really stood out to her was how Corvus interacted with the world around him, just from the way he looked around and seemed to perceive things.

‘It’s so different from how I fight… He’s watching his teammates more than the enemy. I barely even check what the rest of the squad is doing—I just assume they’ve got it all handled properly.’

That constant awareness wasn’t born from any lack of trust, though. 

If anything, it showed how well Corvus understood both his squad and his own role within it. 

Throughout the DM, he kept adjusting positions, giving short pointers here and there, and tightening their responses to enemy movements—which, in a Point Assault, was absolutely critical.

Unlike her own DM, Corvus had been forced to push an enemy position alongside Marines he had never worked with before, much less seen until that very mission. 

And yet, he handled it smoothly, downright effortlessly.

The part that struck Thea the most came in the latter half of the DM. 

Several of Corvus’ original squadmates had already died, and what remained of his group had linked up with a few other battered squads in a temporary safe zone in front of the enemy lines—a crater left behind from a large munition gone astray. 

They had watched as Corvus quickly struck up a rapport with the only other surviving Squad Leader and, in under two minutes, folded the remaining Marines into their two squads. 

Then they moved out together as two oversized units to continue the push.

‘That’s… honestly kind of crazy,’ was the first thought that came to Thea’s mind. ‘How did he manage to get all of that done so fast…? And how did he know to fold them into the squads instead of just making a third and fourth?’

When she had asked him about that moment, he had explained, “We knew the position was only safe for a short time, so we couldn’t sit around waiting for reinforcements—like more Squad Leaders—to show up. But we also couldn’t just let the other Marines form their own new squads, since they didn’t have the command structure for it.

“Especially during an assault, you need a clear chain of command. Orders have to move cleanly, up and down. Without someone trained to lead—or at least someone with a basic, natural grasp of it, like you, Thea—a ‘rogue’ squad that close to enemy lines is more likely to cause problems than solve them. And none of the Marines there seemed able to take charge like that. The way I could tell was fairly simple: Nobody had taken charge. If somebody has a natural aptitude for it, they will take charge when they realize that nobody else is doing so.”

Thea had been a bit taken aback by his claim that she had an inherent knack for leadership—she very much disagreed, considering that the only two times she had ever led squads so far, they had all effectively died—but his explanation still made sense. 

And she also couldn’t deny that she would have stepped in and taken charge if she’d realized nobody else was doing their job properly. 

Still, that didn’t exactly make her a natural leader.

‘Yeah… I really wouldn’t want to worry about a rag-tag squad with bad comms while trying to shoot at the enemy.’

Corvus’ DM ended with him taking a shot to the chest, a clean hole blown straight through his torso during one of the final pushes.

“Haaa… So yeah, that’s how this disaster of a DM ended for me,” he said, offering the squad a tired smile. “Great, huh?”

“You went out like a boss,” Isabella shrugged, surprisingly the first to speak. “Can’t really ask for more than that. You helped a ton of Marines do their jobs better than they would’ve otherwise, so… that’s a win in my book.”

Thea nodded along. “Honestly, I’m not sure what else you could’ve done differently.”

The rest of the squad seemed to agree, offering their own words of support, but Corvus still looked mildly unconvinced.

“There are a lot of things I could’ve done differently, honestly. But… it’s hard to put into words. I know where I went wrong now, though. So I can fix it next time,” he said, and there was enough steel in his voice that Thea didn’t try to argue.

“Now… as for the friendlink system, I didn’t really run into anyone particularly noteworthy during my DM. I did make a few connections with people I worked well with, though. So nothing earth-shattering to report there. Still, we should all keep an eye out for promising Marines. Those kinds of contacts can become useful later on—trust me on this. My parents drilled that into me early.”

That made everyone perk up a little, and Karania asked the question they were all thinking. 

“What do you mean by that, exactly?”

Corvus exhaled, leaning back into the cushioned armchair and running a hand through his slightly ruffled auburn hair. “The DMs are galaxy-wide. We all know that from UHF 101. That means the Marines we run into there are real people, out there somewhere, already fighting the same war we’ll be joining in less than a year.”

They all nodded.

“So if we find people who are particularly competent,” he continued, “we can learn from them. Group up a few times, ask about their experiences, get advice, tips, even build-related insight. There are limits, of course—no specific deployments or sensitive details. Basic OpSec. But the rest? That’s fair game.”

He pointed at Thea, catching her off guard. “Especially you. It’d be really useful for you to link up with other Psykers. You’ve got the Runepriest now for personal lessons, sure, but even he won’t have time to cover everything. And for someone at his level, the basics might be so far removed from his own experiences that he skips right over them without intending to. Talking to people closer to your own level can fill in those gaps.”

Then he gestured toward Desmond. “And you too.”

Desmond groaned and waved him off. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. More intel from other Drone Operators and Support-role types would help lock down my build. Fair.”

Corvus just grinned at him with an unmistakable I-told-you-so look before turning back to the rest of the squad.

“And I’m sure the rest of you can find some interesting Marines to learn from too—and if nothing else… If they find you competent as well, there’s a real chance that once we’re promoted to Private, we might end up on their ships at some point. Or on the same Battlefields. Maybe even get invited into their squads, companies, or platoons, if you leave a strong enough impression.”

He raised his hands slightly, as if to stop any protests—which was probably for the best, as Thea had absolutely been about to blurt out something along the lines of, “We’re staying together as Alpha, what do you mean their squads?”

“Don’t make the mistake of thinking we’ll always stick together as one squad,” Corvus continued, the words hitting Thea like a slap across the face. “I hope we will for a long time, but don’t assume we’re invincible. I hate to bring that kind of talk into a celebration, but you all need to remember this is a war we’re joining. And not just any war, but the war. I gave each of you a box to keep mementos in—I didn’t do that just for show.”

His eyes met Thea’s for a brief moment, the familiar flinch tightly controlled but still there, before he looked at the rest of Alpha Squad. “There’s a good chance some of our names will end up in someone’s box. So don’t waste the chance to network during these DMs. Having options matters, if the worst ever happens. We all hope it won’t—but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t at least plan for it.”

Then the seriousness eased from his face, replaced by a grin, as if he couldn’t help himself. 

Thea had started to notice that about him in the past days—Corvus never liked leaving things heavy for too long unless he absolutely had to.

“And hey, if things do go according to plan,” he added lightly, “we can always poach them for our own squads, companies, or platoons later. I’d much rather have hand-picked Marines than randoms. So either way, it’s a win-win, right?”

For a moment, a heavy silence settled over the room.

Then Isabella scoffed, leaning back with her arms crossed. 

“He’s right,” she said bluntly. “War isn’t a playground. Hope doesn’t keep you alive out there—plans do. People die. That’s just reality.” 

She glanced around the group, eyes hard. 

“You don’t get to pretend otherwise just because it makes you uncomfortable.”

Nobody argued with her words. 

They all knew her background, or at least the parts she’d chosen to share about her time as a mercenary. 

This wasn’t mere theory to her, like it was for Corvus—not that anybody would think he was wrong on this. But for Isabella, those words came straight from memory.

And that, in itself, made all the difference in terms of weight.

Corvus nodded once at her and Thea caught the motion out of the corner of her eye.

“Alright,” he said, clapping his hands once and letting the tension break. “That’s enough existential dread for one morning. We’ve still got five DMs to go through, and I’d rather not end today feeling like a funeral.” 

He gestured at the group with a grin. “So—who’s next?”

A beat of silence.

Then, Lucas shrugged from his seat. 

“I’ll take it,” he said easily. “Might as well rip that bandage off.”

Corvus smiled. “Good man. Alright, Lucas, you’re up…”

—

Lucas’ DM was, unfortunately, fairly uneventful, leaving little room for any deep breakdowns.

He had chosen a Point Defense mission to ease himself into the DMs, much like Thea had picked a Hold-the-Line for the same reason—even if hers had ended up scaled way up and the whole “easing into it” part had been lost entirely.

Most of Lucas’ DM was spent staring at the backside of the Stalwart, as that was where he had stayed for the vast majority of the mission.

Still, it had been interesting to see combat from his point of view.

‘I don’t think I could do this,’ Thea thought. ‘The pressure of being stuck behind a wall like that, without really knowing what’s happening on the other side… Sure, he’s looking around, firing the Havoc over the top, still interacting with the fight—but being mostly stationary, with such a small field of view? Just watching this is making me feel claustrophobic.’

As the recording came to an end, Lucas commented on it himself.

“Unlike our fearless leader, I survived the entire thing. But I’m still not exactly happy with my performance. I felt like I was barely doing anything for a good chunk of the DM—just standing there as a shield. Which, yeah, is kind of my job, but I feel like I could be doing more, you know?”

To Thea’s surprise, the others actually agreed with him.

She had expected a wave of reassurance like Corvus had gotten, but instead, the rest of Alpha Squad stayed thoughtful and honest with Lucas’ self-assessment.

‘Awesome,’ she thought, warmth spreading from her core.

This was exactly the kind of team she had always wanted—people willing to speak up when something wasn’t working, competent enough to notice it, and determined to improve every step of the way.

“Think you might need to work on your offensive switch there, big guy,” Isabella commented, nodding like it was obvious. “Havoc’s solid and all, but I’ll be honest—if you’re not standing next to me, you’re pretty easy to ignore.”

Lucas nodded slowly. “Yeah. I definitely felt that a lot during this DM. Didn’t have anyone even close to your level to draw attention, and it made me feel almost invisible at times.”

“You could try taking a page out of Rachel Masters’ book,” Karania added, casually—and Thea’s head snapped toward her, eyes going wide.

‘What the fuck, Kara?!’ Thea thought, stunned. ‘Masters?! Lucas is ten times what she could ever be!’

The knee-jerk anger made her pause. 

Because she knew what she was thinking wasn’t true in the least.

‘No… No, she’s right,’ Thea admitted to herself with a quiet sigh. ‘Masters is a bitch, but she’s terrifying. And she fills the same Role as him. If Lucas could tap into even some of that aggressiveness when it mattered, he’d be impossible to ignore.’

What they had seen during the Awards Ceremony—and even during the one-on-one fight with Isabella shortly after—left little doubt that Masters was an incredibly skilled Marine, far more so than Lucas, as much as Thea hated to admit it.

“I’m not sure I can switch like she does, honestly,” Lucas said with a pained smile. “The movements, the raw… just straight up skill she brings as a Defensive Heavy—it’s beyond me right now. By Xagis, I don’t even know where I’d start to reach that level, if I’m being honest.”

“Then just ask Thea to help you figure it out,” Desmond, of all people, suddenly cut in with something Thea had never expected to hear. “She’s our official Build Advisor… whatever thing, right? And I remember Isabella saying she’s an absolute menace in the arcade. She can emulate builds and playstyles, no?”

His eyes met Thea’s. 

She was still caught off guard by him saying it at all, but he held her gaze after the initial flinch and added, “You could help him get something together in time for the Challenge, yeah? He doesn’t need to be perfect—just good enough to show the brass he’s worth keeping.”

Thea thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. I think I could.”

She wasn’t completely confident, but Desmond had basically handed her a chance to do what she was best at—build planning and fixing playstyles—and she wasn’t about to turn that down. Especially since it was the first time he had openly asked for her help—even if for somebody else.

“I’ll probably need help from all of you at different times,” she continued. “If I need specific enemy types for him to fight. I can emulate a lot of builds, but you’ll still be better than me in your own niches. That said… I do have a few ideas on how we could push Lucas toward a more well-rounded build and playst—ehhh combat style.”

Karania’s eyebrows lifted as she shot Thea a teasing look, which Thea promptly ignored.

The rest of the squad agreed right away to help whenever needed—Isabella most eagerly of all, to absolutely no one’s surprise.

“But we were already planning on some of that, weren’t we?” Thea tossed the conversation back to Lucas, who nodded gratefully.

“Yeah. I think we could start tomorrow, if you’re free then?” he asked.

Thea answered with a simple thumbs-up. 

“Works for me.”

“I’ll let the girl know too, then. If that’s okay with you,” Lucas added, and it took Thea a second to remember what he meant—until Evelyn and their agreement came back to her.

“Ah, right. Yeah, that makes sense,” Thea agreed.

She wasn’t exactly thrilled about entertaining a fan, but if Evelyn really had the kind of intel on Masters she claimed, it was a very small price to pay.

“The girl?” Karania asked inquisitively.

“Uh—remember that girl who ran up to me after the DM?” Thea said quickly. “We met her during System 102. She said she has some information on Masters that could help with the Challenge.”

She shot Karania a pointed look, silently begging her not to mention the autograph or the fan stuff.

Their eyes locked, and with growing dread, Thea saw the sparkle of pure amusement in her best friend’s gaze. Kara was absolutely enjoying this moment of uncertainty.

“Girl’s a real fan of Thea’s, that’s for sure,” Lucas added casually.

Thea’s eyes went wide.

Karania snapped her head toward him, then back to Thea, clearly mouthing, “Wasn’t me,” before breaking into all-out laughter.

“A real fan, huh?” Isabella teased, one brow lifting.

Corvus jumped in without missing a beat. “Not exactly surprising, considering our star Recruit over here. #1 isn’t just for show. Bound to have a whole fanclub by now.”

Even Desmond decided to chime in, rubbing the back of his neck with an awkward half-smile. “I mean… yeah. Kind of checks out. You are scary competent. I’d probably be a fan too. Uh… Not like that though,” he added quickly, somehow managing to make it worse.

Thea groaned, dragging both hands down her face. “Please. Can we not do this right now…?” 

She took a breath and forced herself back on track, pointing at Lucas. “Anyway. Your DM. Did you end up friendlinking with anyone you might want to keep tabs on?”

Lucas chuckled, gracefully granting her the out. “Honestly? No. I didn’t really bother with it at the time. Was too focused on trying to figure out just how many things I had managed to mess up…” He shrugged. “But after what Corvus and Isa said earlier, yeah. I’ll start paying attention to that stuff going forward, for sure.”

The room settled into a brief lull, the energy dipping just enough for Thea to hope they’d moved on.

They hadn’t.

Isabella slowly turned her head toward her, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “So. About that fan of yours…?”

“Nope,” Thea said immediately, louder than necessary. 

She spun toward Karania and jabbed a thumb in her direction. “Kara. Your DM. Show it. Now. You’ve been teasing it for days and I want to see what crazy stuff you got up to!”

Karania blinked once, then smiled in a way that told Thea she absolutely understood what was happening. 

“Wow,” she said sweetly. “Changing the subject already? Tragic.”

Thea shot her a pained, pleading look.

Karania laughed and raised her hands. “Alright, alright. I’ll save that for later.” 

She leaned forward, already pulling up the recording. “You’re not wrong though. I’ve been dying to show you all this.”

Thea sagged back into the couch in relief as the display shifted, silently thanking whatever force in the universe had convinced Karania to show mercy—at least for now.

As the recording started playing, Karania gave a quick introduction. “So, I picked one of the DMs with a special modifier. This one was called Faultline and… yeah, it hit a lot harder than I expected. The basic idea is constant seismic activity—earthquakes, the ground splitting open, chasms forming, all that fun stuff. Except they really cranked it up to like twelve.”

And with that, the DM recording kicked off from Karania’s point of view…

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[ND] Chapter 162 - Cleaning

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Chapter 157 - Trust has just released on RR with no major changes.

For the Fixers, this chapter is new.

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Anima tiiiime

-----

I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is the link to the chapter:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-fY8hRQrxkvK4Er6QtTTmnWp4ObdQ8H4O-P3TLmFdPs/edit?usp=sharing

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Chapter 162 - Cleaning

My eyes fluttered open almost the instant I mentally confirmed the Rest Function, just like it always did.

[System]: Rest completed. Time rested: 08:00:00
[System]: 600 rested XP added to available Bonus XP.

Not having to deal with the soul-crushing grogginess of natural sleep—like yesterday, when Valeria had been watching me breathe like I was a science experiment—was honestly one of the most criminally underrated perks of the Rest Function. 

It always dumped me straight back into full awareness with no dragging limbs or sluggish thoughts attached.

‘Thank you, Rest Function,’ I thought quietly as I swung my legs over the bed and started getting ready.

Today was going to be another mentally exhausting one. 

Interacting with Miss K and the rest of the dojo crew was guaranteed to be an Olympic-level bullshitting event, and I already felt tired just thinking about it.

But first things first: Morning workout. Shower. And then the usual stint at Mr. Shori’s…

—

By the time I stepped out of the shower after my shift at Mr. Shori’s—because walking into the dojo smelling like algae noodles and ramen oil really wasn’t the vibe I was trying to cultivate with them—I was relieved to find that the visit had been blissfully uneventful. 

Just a simple day at work with a kindly old man—and a delicious bowl of Ramen for lunch, just what the Ripper had ordered.

Except he didn’t. 

The Ripper hadn’t even talked to me after being half up in my guts.

Rude, honestly. But not exactly unusual for the business.

Now, with a towel slung over my shoulders, I finally took a moment to check my gains from the last couple of days of social juggling and damage control.

[System]: Notice: Experience rundown has been condensed further, for ease of interaction. This setting can be changed by the User via the usual channels.

[System]: The following Skills have gained experience: [Contortion], [Athletics], [Stealth], [Acrobatics], [Cooking], [Negotiation], [Appraise], [Accounting], [{Anima Razor}]

[System]: The following Attributes have gained experience: Body (+ Bonus XP), Reflex (+ Bonus XP), Intuition, Edge, Tech (+ Bonus XP), Ego, Anima (+ Bonus XP)

My eyebrows shot up as I stared at the list, a vague sense of disappointment creeping in.

‘…That’s it?’ I thought flatly. ‘Where are the numbers? Where’s the dopamine? Where’s the satisfying “number go brrr” part of all this?!’

Sure, the lists had been getting long lately, but this felt downright aggressively minimalist.

I sighed and pulled up the System Settings, navigating straight to the notification preferences. It didn’t take long to find what I was looking for—a dropdown tucked neatly under Experience Rundowns.

Very Condensed
Condensed (Current)
Condensed + Highlights
Changes Only
Full Breakdown

I squinted at the options.

‘This isn’t even the Very Condensed one?’ I muttered internally. ‘What does that show—“Something changed.” that’s it?’

With a flick of mental input, I selected Condensed + Highlights after skimming the description. It promised to flag outliers and unusual gains instead of lumping everything into a polite blur, which sounded far more my speed.

I reopened the earlier System Notifications.

A few new lines slid neatly into place.

[System]: The following Skills have gained experience: [Contortion], [Athletics], [Stealth], [Acrobatics], [Cooking], [Negotiation], [Appraise], [Accounting], [{Anima Razor}]

[System]: Skill gain Highlights:

[System]: 400xp gained for [Negotiation] Skill.
[System]: 200xp gained for [Appraise] Skill.
[System]: 300xp gained for [Accounting] Skill.
[System]: 200xp gained for [{Anima Razor}] Skill.

[System]: The following Attributes have gained experience: Body (+ Bonus XP), Reflex (+ Bonus XP), Intuition, Edge, Tech (+ Bonus XP), Ego, Anima (+ Bonus XP)

[System]: Attribute gain Highlights:

[System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for Anima Attribute.

[System]: Remaining Bonus XP Available: 2700.

“Oh yeah, that was way better,” I muttered as I started pulling on my gi for the trip to Arkion Dojo. “There really is something special about seeing numbers instead of vague text, isn’t there…”

I couldn’t deny it, though—cutting out the endlessly repetitive lists of tiny experience bumps for Skills that wouldn’t level for weeks, if not months, was probably healthier in the long run. 

As much as I loved seeing numbers go brrr, those lists had started to feel more like visual noise than motivation.

‘This’ll probably also help with the creeping dread of figuring out how the hell I’m supposed to push Attributes like Reflex any higher…’ I thought grimly. ‘Rank 7 basically means I’m getting, what, one drop of experience a day if I’m lucky? And that’s with Bonus XP already factored in. Unless I start actively getting into fights, an hour of daily workouts just isn’t going to cut it anymore for any speedy progress.’

Reflex Rank 7 had come with its own lovely System rundown on “effective training,” of course, and “effective” apparently meant several hours of borderline torturous drills. 

I’d already folded some of those exercises into my new morning routine—thank you, System-granted knowledge and muscle memory—and yeah, the results were technically there.

They were just… painfully limited.

‘At this pace, I won’t see Reflex 8 for another two months. Maybe three.’

That sounded absurdly long until I stopped reacting on pure instinct and actually thought about it for more than half-a-second. Two to three months for what amounted to the equivalent of three years of high-level reflex training?

‘Yeah… okay. Fair. That’s still completely insane.’

I snorted softly to myself. ‘I’m really out here whining about a couple months of—let’s be honest—pretty casual effort. I’m absolutely being a spoiled brat here.’

The System really was a cheat. And it was cheating entirely in my favor, at that.

Though, all that said, I really wasn’t all that eager to experience a Rank up to 8 anytime soon anyway, so the fact that the experience gains were starting to slow to a crawl was probably a blessing in disguise.

‘If I never reach Rank 8, that might honestly be fine with me too…’ I caught myself thinking—right before the numbers gremlin in my brain jumped me in a dark alley, beat that thought senseless, and dumped it in a ditch. ‘No. No! You absolutely want Rank 8. Without Rank 8 you can’t get Rank 9, and without Rank 9 you can’t get Rank 10. Get it together, Sera. Just because the last Rank up hurt so badly you briefly considered dying as a lifestyle choice doesn’t mean you get to abandon your numbers-going-brrr dreams. Focus, girl.’

The pep talk did absolutely nothing to dull the memory of that sheer, unfiltered agony from the day before, though. Just thinking about it sent a cold shiver crawling up my spine and left my stomach doing uncomfortable little flips.

So I did what any perfectly reasonable, well-adjusted person would do in my situation: After shoving my Raz into my gi for any potential trouble coming my way, stepping out of the apartment, and listening to the familiar automatic lock beep behind me—nobody home, as usual—I crushed those thoughts down hard and distracted myself with other, equally stressful problems.

All while walking straight toward the place that was directly responsible for most of that stress existing in the first place.

‘So… How the hell do I deal with the dojo crew and Miss K today…?’

—

By the time I reached the Arkion Dojo, I still hadn’t gotten anywhere near a real plan beyond, “Just try bullshitting your way through it. Surely it’ll work out, somehow,” which—yeah—was not exactly a stellar showing on the strategy front.

‘Sometimes I really do wonder if I’m actually just stupid, or if I’m way, way over my head with all of this… Or both,’ I thought, and not for the first time.

At least I had arrived twenty minutes early like I’d intended, so I had that going for me, which was nice.

I stepped inside and headed toward the back, slowing a little as I entered the large training area and watched one of Miss K’s other groups sparring with her inside the blue-marked area. 

Five students this time—one more than our usual crew—throwing themselves at her with the same desperate creativity I’d grown intimately familiar with: Feints, coordinated rushes, sudden surprise attacks, even the classic “everyone move at once and hope chaos does the rest” approach. 

Someone actually bumped into another mid-move and nearly ate the floor.

I couldn’t help but smile. 

We’d tried all of that too. Every single dumb idea like that.

And just like us, they weren’t even close to touching her.

They were drenched in sweat, breathing hard, movements getting sloppier by the second, while Miss K looked… completely and utterly fine.

It took her less than a minute to call the session after I had entered, glancing at the time and clearly deciding they were done for the day, before someone actually ended up hurting themselves from exhaustion.

It struck me as oddly surreal to realize—properly, this time—that she wasn’t just our instructor. 

She had other students. Other groups. 

Seeing it firsthand felt a bit like running into your teacher in a random supermarket and suddenly remembering that they did, in-fact, exist outside your own little life’s bubble.

‘It would’ve been pretty weird if she didn’t have more Blue-group students than anything else. No idea why that never clicked before,’ I thought, returning the slightly rushed bows from the other students as they filed past me and out of the dojo.

Miss K, meanwhile, was doing… something… inside the blue-coloured zone they’d just finished sparring in. 

I couldn’t see exactly what, but it didn’t take a genius to tell it was Anima-related. 

And honestly, with Miss K right there and very much available, I didn’t feel nearly as anxious about the idea of activating Anima Sight and then potentially failing to shut it back down again. She’d mentioned last time that I should be able to turn it off properly—I just hadn’t ever actually tried.

There’d never really been a good opportunity to experiment since then. 

The risk of messing it up, pulling the Sprites off my vision, and getting stuck half-blind or worse had always outweighed whatever benefit Anima Sight might’ve given me in the moment.

‘Still,’ I thought, watching Miss K work, ‘that’s something I really need to ask her about. Why my Anima Sight is always on unless I actively block it with Sprites. There has to be a way to flip that around, right?’

So, for the first time in what felt like forever—but also not nearly as unpracticed as it probably should’ve felt, considering I’d dumped a whole heap of Anima into yesterday’s [Anima Razor] show-and-tell for Misha and Jade—I focused inward. 

Not on my eyes themselves, but on the Sprites clinging to them. 

I couldn’t see them, obviously, but I knew they were there. 

I could very-so-faintly feel them, like pressure just behind my vision, if I focused just right.

‘Alright… please, uh… move aside for a bit, so I can see?’ I thought, mentally awkward as hell and very aware of how ridiculous it felt to politely address the World’s microscopic robots, or whatever the hell they were.

And something answered.

That something tugged in that strange, intangible reservoir inside me—the same one Ego leaned on, the same one [Wall Runner] drank from, the same quiet well everything System-adjacent seemed to touch in its own weird way. 

The pull was gentle but unmistakable, like a hand taking mine and guiding it.

And then my vision bloomed.

Colour flooded in all at once—threads, gradients, faint currents drifting through the air like heat haze made visible. The dojo didn’t change, not really, but suddenly I could see the thousands upon thousands of Sprites of all different colours—although mostly green here in the training area—and I had to fight the instinctive urge to suck in a sharp breath.

Miss K stood at the center of it all like the calm eye of a storm.

What I’d previously thought were idle, half-unconscious finger movements suddenly snapped into sharp focus. Each twitch, each subtle curl or flick of her fingers sent ripples through the vortex around her, the Sprites responding instantly—like she was conducting a massive, invisible orchestra. 

The air around her positively churned with color. 

Most of the Sprites in the dojo were green, sure, but the ones wrapped tight around Miss K were different—thick bands of orange dominating the swirl, threaded through with streaks of red and green that flared and dimmed in time with her motions.

I didn’t think about the implications, move to get a closer look or anything. 

I just… stared.

It was mesmerizing in a way that went beyond pretty colors or spectacle.

This was control. Absolute, precise control. 

Every Sprite moved with an unseen purpose, sliding into place like they’d rehearsed this exact moment a thousand times before.

I watched her work without really understanding it, my brain completely short-circuited by the scale of it. The way the currents bent around her. The way the colors shifted in response to movements so small I would’ve dismissed them entirely without my Anima Sight pointing towards them being more important as a result of the Sprite’s reactions to them. 

I couldn’t even begin to guess what she was doing—only that it was deliberate, clearly well practiced, and far beyond anything I’d ever touched in the realm of Anima so far.

And then, just like that, it was already over.

The vortex unraveled. 

The orange Sprites peeled away first, the majority of them thinning out as they drifted into the wider room, fading as they merged with the ambient flow and some rare ones slipped cleanly out through walls and ceilings. 

The red and green followed, until the space around Miss K looked almost normal again—if “normal” could even really apply to what the world looked like with Anima Sight active.

Next, she raised both hands slightly, palms open.

And the ground beneath her feet responded immediately.

A surge of green Sprites poured up from below like a living tide, flooding the cleared combat zone and settling into it. They spread evenly across the floor and air, thickening the space where hand-to-hand training actually happened into an almost soup-like consistency from the looks of it.

‘The healing Sprites she was talking about last time…’ I recognized.

When she finally let her hands drop, she exhaled a slow, shaky breath. 

A bit of sweat had gathered along her brow, which she flicked away with the back of her wrist before turning toward me.

“Well?” she asked, a faint smirk tugging at her mouth. “Enjoy the show?”

I nodded, still half-stuck staring at the space where the vortex had been only a moment ago. 

“Yeah,” I admitted honestly. “I really did. I just… don’t actually know what I watched.”

Miss K tilted her head, studying me for a second, then nodded once. 

“Good. Then tell me what you saw,” she said, tone casual but clearly testing me. “And I’m glad you’re getting more comfortable using your Anima Sight.”

“Ahh… About that,” I scratched the back of my neck, a bit sheepish. “That was actually the first time I’ve ever used it on purpose. I’m still not entirely sure I can make it stop again, so… I’ll probably have questions about that later, if it’s not too much to ask...”

She chuckled softly but gestured for me to continue.

I took a breath and replayed the image in my head. “You were standing in the middle of… everything. Like a storm of Sprites. Most of the room was green, but around you it was mostly orange, with some red and green mixed in. And your hands—your fingers were moving, barely at all, but it felt like they were… directing it. Like you were conducting them.”

Miss K nodded along, expression unreadable but approving. “Good.”

She tapped two fingers together. “Each colour governs a different domain. Green is life—healing, growth, recovery. Orange is matter. Structure. Physical reality. Red is just energy, really. Bit hard to describe without going metaphysical, so the freebie is that they weren’t really that important to what I was doing. Knowing that…” She looked at me sidelong. “What do you think I was doing here, exactly?”

I could tell immediately that this was a test. 

Not a harsh one, but a deliberate nudge to make me actually think instead of just gawking. 

So I replayed the scene in my head—the timing, the colours, the way she’d done it right after the previous group left, before the next one arrived. 

The spotless floor, the clean, non-sweaty smell in the air… Then it hit me.

There had been a distinct lack of cleaning supplies anywhere in the dojo, despite how much sweat, blood, and spit inevitably hit the mats during training.

“…Cleaning?” I ventured. “You did it right after the last group left. And I’ve never seen mops, cleaners, or anything like that around here. With orange handling matter, it would make sense that you were breaking things down, resetting the space. Sweat, blood, spit—everything that shouldn’t be there.”

For a split second, she just stared at me.

Then she smiled.

It was quick, sharp, and way too confident—and my stupid heart absolutely jumped at it. 

‘Damn teenage hormones…!’

“That’s exactly it,” she said, nodding. “There’s a bit more nuance to it, but that’s all you need right now. The dojo stays clean because I tell the matter in it where it belongs—or whether it does at all.”

She wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, exhaling slowly. “Not bad, Sera. For your first time seeing properly… you’re paying close attention. That’s good.”

I swallowed, feeling a weird mix of pride and dawning dread, like I’d just taken one more confident step into waters I absolutely could not see the bottom of yet.

“Now, try turning off your Anima Sight,” Miss K said, walking closer until we weren’t practically shouting across half the dojo anymore.

I did as told and reached for the Sprites I’d nudged aside earlier, or at least the idea of them.

‘Alright… please come back and hide all this again,’ I thought, vaguely picturing the blue Sprites settling over my eyes like a blanket being pulled up.

And… Nothing happened.

I frowned and tried again, pushing a little harder, which was strange in itself—trying to apply effort to something that didn’t really exist in any physical sense was deeply unintuitive.

‘Hide the Anima. Like before. Please,’ I thought, slower and more deliberate this time.

For a heartbeat, it still felt like nothing was happening, and I could feel that familiar spike of doubt creeping in. Then something tugged deep in my chest and the riot of colour bleeding through my vision began to fade. 

Threads dulled, currents thinned, until the world snapped back into its normal, boring state.

“Ha!” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

Miss K raised an eyebrow.

“I… I did it,” I added awkwardly.

She nodded once, utterly unsurprised. “I told you so. You’re a bit of a natural at this, clearly.”

She continued with a smug smile, “You know, most new Practitioners actually struggle quite a lot with this. But I figured telling you that you’d have no problems with it would do just fine, given your intuitive understanding of all this stuff.”

My jaw was half-slack at that admission, but that didn’t last long.

Miss K crossed her arms and let her gaze sweep over me in a slow, assessing way that made me shift my weight without meaning to.

“Now,” she said, tone sharpening just a touch, “you weren’t here last time, and your sudden interest in all things Anima already gave me a hint. That, and the ominous message from your mother.”

She met my eyes.

“But I still have to ask.”

Here it came.

“Just what, exactly, happened to you, Sera? What’s going on with your body…?”

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[TAS] Volume 2 - Chapter 62 - Intel

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Volume 2 - Interlude 57.5 - A Proprietor's Lot has just released on RR with no changes except for the Title now having a number.

For the Wolf Lords, this chapter has seen no changes.

And also: Please do not read the chapters here on Patreon, but go for the googledoc, .pdf or .epub instead. Patreon butchers all forms of formatting and you're missing out on easier and more enjoyable reading experiences.

------

There is, in-fact, intel inside this chapter.

------

I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is the link to the chapter:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Wmifm_NzJsLbcEDsncLGz0xgeFhJbl4nv-EMt8SFuJM/edit?usp=sharing

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Volume 2 - Chapter 62 - Intel

“Of all the gifts the Allbright System offers humanity, none are as quietly monumental—or as dangerously underestimated—as Classes. 

“Attributes push us past human limits. Skills refine our very understanding of everything around us. Our Faction Trait keeps us alive. 

“But Classes? Classes define us.

“Classes are the single most important component of the System when it comes to personal power. Not because they overshadow everything else, but because they shape and get shaped by everything else in-turn. 

“A wisely chosen Class at Tier 1 can snowball into unimaginable strength at Tier 4 or 5, while a poor one locks a Marine into a struggling foundation before they ever even realize they had the chance to touch true potential. 

“The compounding effect is brutal: Every Tier, every Class, every grown Ability matters. 

“And the ability to bring Unique Abilities from one Tier into the next is what allows high-Tier Marines to wield powers that reshape entire sectors.

“We’ve all seen the like on the propaganda reels: Those few legendary Battlefield Aces, the UHF specifically ships around and even stations at the worst hotspots in the galaxy. 

“The ones the other Factions whisper about in pure dread. 

“When they unleash their true array of Abilities—stacked through careful Class choices, carried over from Tier to Tier, woven into their Attributes, Skills, and real experience—the result is something the rest of us can barely even comprehend. 

“They aren’t just powerful; they are downright cataclysmic in nature.

“And all that starts at Tier 1 already. Before that, as a Recruit, even.

“One Class. One decision. One path that overwrites every mistake—or locks them in forever.

“Which brings me to the part nobody likes talking about.

“The UHF’s current approach to Classes, especially in Recruitment Drives, is… hands-off. 

“Too hands-off. 

“Recruits are given information, yes. Some guidance, yes. Even some private lessons and advice for the few that go out of their way to ask. 

“But no structured training on build theory, no enforced planning, no mandatory preparation on how to navigate the decades of progression in a more efficient, mathed-out manner. 

“The System lectures and classes throughout the first year barely scratch the surface, when it really comes down to it, and then the UHF sends tens of millions of new Marines out into the Galaxy armed with half-formed ideas and a vague sense of “figure it out later.”

“Is that really the best we can do?

“We all know the truth: Most Recruits will die before reaching Tier 2. 

“Everyone accepts it because that’s just how the Galactic War works. 

“But if the UHF truly values human life as much as it claims, then why let so many walk into the grinder with suboptimal foundations? Why let ignorance lock away future potential that could save lives—maybe even win battles—years down the line?

“I understand the counter-argument, I truly do. 

“Too much control risks stagnation. Too much guidance could create predictable soldiers, predictable strategies, predictable weaknesses. 

“It fuels innovation—sometimes even raw genius.

“But the cost of that innovation is truly staggering to consider.

“For every Battlefield Ace forged through clever Class choices and lucky instincts, hundreds of millions of capable, promising Marines die before they ever get the chance to climb even a single Tier.

“And so I pose the question that needs asking, again and again:

“Is this truly the kind of Faction the UHF wants to be?

“A Faction that claims to put human lives first, yet treats its entire Tier-1 force like a colossal testing lab?
“A Faction that prides itself on efficiency, yet allows avoidable inefficiencies to snuff out talent before it ever matures?
“A Faction that wants victory, but sends its most valuable soldiers into war with tools they don’t even fully comprehend, much less know how to use?

“Classes are the beating heart of the Allbright System. 

“They determine what a Marine can become.
“They determine who lives long enough to matter.
“They determine whether your name ends up on a memorial or if it becomes etched into history.

“Perhaps it’s time the UHF Marine Corps started acting like it, and stopped throwing the lives of our sons and daughters away for nothing.”

—

[“The UHF MC’s stance on Classes” — Arthen Valcor, Military Systems Columnist for the Helion Strategic Review – PFC912]

=====

=====

The remainder of the System 102 lecture went about the way Thea expected, with the flood of questions thrown at Professor Hirana—and the rapid clarifications that followed—pulling her full attention back into the moment.

Most of what was asked already felt obvious to her, thanks to her years with Terra’s games.

The whole idea that “games were modeled after real life to bypass System restrictions” was still something she couldn’t fully wrap her head around, so it kept catching her off-guard each time another mechanic she had long interacted and gathered experience with in a game lined up almost perfectly with reality.

But there were also parts of the Q&A that she found genuinely useful to hear explained or re-emphasized.

Things like Class Abilities transferring into the next Tier moving into the usual 5 Active and 8 Passive slots—meaning she’d have to free up space every single time she Tiered up if she wanted to build a large collection of Unique Abilities.

Or the revelation that some Classes didn’t offer one of the three aspects at all. 

Some didn’t have a Base Growth Rate.
Others have no Variable Growth Rate at all.
And some rare ones didn’t even come with a Unique Ability Portfolio. 

Just a heavier focus on the remaining two that they did have.

That was also something she’d seen before in Terra’s games.

‘That’s going to be so difficult to math out without proper information on a large number of Classes, damnit… I might actually have to ask Major Quinn for access to the UHF’s Class database before the end of the year… somehow,’ she’d thought when the professor explained that part. ‘How am I supposed to convince the brass that I’m not just asking for it for fun…? Should I tell them I have actual experience with this stuff from the games? But would they even care about video game experience, even ones created by Terra…?’

The last thing she wanted was to look like a complete fool in front of Major Quinn, especially after their latest talk. She owed the woman a debt of at least some professionalism now. 

And going, “Hey, I’m pretty good at this video game stuff, can I please have access to one of the most closely guarded database servers in the entire Faction for my personal use,” didn’t exactly sound professional in her head.

She pushed the thought aside for later, to mull about in the next weeks or months, until she could figure out how to approach it without sounding like an idiot to refocus on the end of the lecture.

The final point she found especially useful to have confirmed—again something pulled straight from her experience with Terra’s games—was that higher-Tier Classes could have prerequisite Class choices attached to them. 

If you didn’t take a specific Class in the Tier before it, you would never gain access to the one it unlocked. 

“Class-chains” was what she remembered them being called.

‘Another one where having prior knowledge of Classes would be invaluable…’

Naturally, there had also been a storm of questions, trying to pry details out of the professor on how exactly to acquire the specific Classes shown—especially the (Deadeye) one—but Professor Hirana shut every attempt down. 

She reminded them that there would be in-depth classes on Class selection and acquisition later in the year, and that half-baked answers right now would only do more harm than good.

That had quieted most of the hall… though not well enough to stop half a dozen more questions about the exact same topic—just rephrased in increasingly creative ways—from being thrown out anyway.

The lecture finally wrapped up with Professor Hirana once more stressing the importance of their Recruit year. 

“Do not mistake this first year as a simple warm-up, Marines. This is where you build the foundations for the decades—possibly centuries—ahead of you. Don’t take it lightly just because it feels like you have all the time in the universe to fix mistakes later. The moment you step out of the DDS and onto a real Battlefield, there are no more guardrails. 

“You are not invincible, and you are entering a war that has burned for almost a thousand years. The horrors being unleashed on those fighting grounds across the galaxy are enough to make even me lose sleep sometimes—and I’ve been doing this for several decades now.”

The room grew quiet and heavy at that, but Professor Hirana didn’t leave them on such a grim note.

“However, also remember this,” she said, her expression softening into a gentle smile. “The entire Marine Corps—and the UHF as a whole—is behind you. You are never alone in this war unless you choose to isolate yourself. Trust your squadmates. Trust your officers. Trust the brass. Much like the other Factions have spent centuries trying to wipe us out, so have we been denying them that pleasure. And you are all part of that legacy now, too.”

She swept her gaze slowly across the room, giving small, reassuring nods to anyone who looked like they needed it.

“So do not be afraid. We’re all in this together. And never forget: Shoulder to shoulder, UHF Marines stand as the strongest fighting force in the entire galaxy.”

With those final uplifting words, Professor Hirana dismissed the hall, stepped back from the podium, and began gathering her materials.

Thea and Lucas packed up slowly at first, both of them still riding the mental high of the lecture.

“Honestly?” He said while folding up his stylus and slipping it into the side of his datapad case. “That might’ve been the most interesting class we’ve had so far. Confusing, in a way, but… very good. It’s really nice to see just what we’re actually working towards, that was kind of a genius move by the Professor to include the Class examples at the end.”

Thea snorted softly as she started putting away her own pad. “Yeah. It was… kind of a lot. But I’m actually glad she explained the messy parts of this first year’s importance instead of simply sugarcoating or ignoring them entirely.” 

She paused for a second, tapping her datapad against her palm. “I do wanna stop by the Professor, though. There’s something she said earlier that I keep circling back to, but it didn’t really fit into the Q&A…”

Lucas nodded easily with a shrug. “Sure. You go do that, I’ll wait outside. Might as well stretch my legs a bit before we head back to the dorms.”

Thea shot him a grateful glance, a big smile spreading across her face. 

She was very glad he’d picked up on her unspoken question—maybe she really was starting to get the hang of this whole social interaction thing, slowly but surely. 

“Thanks. I appreciate it, Lucas.”

They wrapped up their things side by side, still chatting about random parts of the lecture—Lucas muttering about the Tier 1 vehicle-related Classes he really hoped existed, Thea half-laughing but still half-serious as she told him she already knew about a dozen of them, assuming her game knowledge was accurate to real life analogues.

Lucas made her promise—enthusiastically—to write him a list, which she agreed to without any reservation.

With that settled, they started down the stairs toward the podium—Thea already rehearsing how she was going to phrase her question about lowering her own PV, while Lucas stretched his absurdly large frame like a cat, as if sitting for a few hours in the lecture hall’s seats had somehow strained every muscle in his body.

They only made it halfway down when Thea’s habit of scanning her surroundings—something she’d consistently been doing since she remembered the importance of it during the middle of the last lecture—paid off. 

She stopped dead, cursing underneath her breath.

“Fuck, not this shit now…”

Lucas blinked, caught off guard by the sudden cursing and halt, then followed her line of sight.

Standing directly in their path—having just risen from her seat moments earlier—was the one person Thea would’ve happily avoided forever.

Rachel Veronica Masters.

Her perfect, cascading golden hair framed that familiar sneer, posture stiff enough to make durasteel feel inadequate, eyes locked onto Lucas with a look that dared him to even consider existing incorrectly—or at all, really.

“Callahan,” she began, her voice soaked in disgust.

Lucas took a long second—much longer than Thea ever would—before answering, “Yes, that’s me. Hello, fellow Marine. What can I do for ya?”

Thea watched him from the corner of her eye, though she didn’t dare take her attention off Masters for even a heartbeat. She wanted to step in out of pure instinct, to tell the Masters girl to fuck off and leave them alone, but there was nothing she could say here that wouldn’t come across as petty or childish. 

Masters wasn’t here for her. She wasn’t even really part of this conversation.

“I… What?” Masters muttered, clearly thrown off by Lucas’ lack of respect, fear or even mild recognition. She shook her head sharply. “Whatever. Listen—I would rather not waste my time, but I consider it proper courtesy to at least inform you that I have issued an official Challenge for your position as Alpha Squad’s Defensive Heavy. Major Quinn accepted it this morning, and it will be formally announced, along with the date of conductment, at the end of the week.”

Thea sucked in a sharp breath, but Lucas didn't so much as twitch.

They’d known this was coming—expected it even—but hearing it straight from the pest’s mouth gave the whole thing a weight that pressed directly against Thea’s ribs. 

It wasn’t some theoretical future problem anymore, but something very real that would require extensive work dealing with as soon as possible.

Masters’ grin widened into something sharp and smug. “I recommend you take this next month seriously and prepare properly. Not that it will help you, of course, but I would prefer you make a decent showing of our Challenge. Otherwise it will not be clear enough to everyone else that they should bother people other than me once I am part of Alpha Squad.”

Then, her eyes shifted to Thea—and to Thea’s shock, the sharpness actually eased. The sneer faded, not gone entirely, but softened in a way that felt… strangely genuine.

“As for you, McKay. I hope to maintain an amicable working relationship in the future. You have proven yourself worthy of what the UHF has bestowed upon you, against all odds and expectations. I very much look forward to seeing what we might accomplish together in the future.”

Just like that, Thea was pulled into the conversation.

A dozen sharp retorts flared in her mind, but almost none of them made it past the what the fuck? moment of suddenly being addressed somewhat respectfully by Masters of all people. 

She barely had time to inhale before Lucas cut in.

“Thanks for the heads-up, Marine. Real kind of ‘ya,” he said, and Thea didn’t miss the exaggerated drawl in his voice. “Eh… just for the record though—who are you again? Gotta match the face to the name when Major Quinn announces it, you understand.”

And that’s when it clicked for Thea.

‘Oh, you’re evil,’ she thought, forcing her face into something resembling neutrality as she struggled not to burst into outright laughter. ‘You’re one nasty man, Lucas. I did not expect that.’

Masters slowly rotated her gaze back toward him, staring like he had sprouted two—no, three—heads right in front of her. Her jaw tensed, a vein pulsing at her temple, and Thea had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself from reacting.

Lucas didn’t blink. His expression remained perfectly bland, perfectly polite and curious.

Finally, Masters managed, “You will remember my name, Callahan. I promise you that. Consider this the one and only courtesy I show you.”

Then she spun on her heels and stormed off down the stairs, leaving a small trail of confused Marines staring after her rapidly disappearing golden mane.

Lucas and Thea just stood there on the steps, both trying to process whatever that had just happened.

And then Thea started chuckling—soft at first, then slipping into full-on laughter she couldn’t hold back. Lucas cracked a grin before giving up entirely and joining in a moment later, only managing to keep a halfway serious face for about a second before he broke too.

Lucas and Thea laughed until their ribs hurt, the kind of helpless, breathless laughter that only came after something absurdly stressful. 

Thea wiped her eyes, catching her breath as she leaned slightly onto one of the nearby desks.

“Her jaw was clenched so hard I thought her teeth were gonna snap,” she managed between snickers, then pointed an accusatory finger at him. “And you—I didn’t think you had that level of pettiness in you!”

Lucas just shrugged with an easy smile. “I’ve had to deal with people like that before.”

Thea raised a brow, curiosity slipping past the fading laughter.

“Back on Quaris,” he explained, voice casual, “we kinda had this whole… caste-system thing going on, I guess. I was born in one of the higher castes, technically. Supposed to act all proper, follow traditions, care about status—blah, blah, blah.” 

He waved a hand dismissively. 

“Never really fit me. And a few of the more ‘noble’ types didn’t enjoy that I didn’t play along. Made them all look bad or something like that.”

Thea nodded slowly as he continued.

“So I spent more time with the lower-caste folks. Better people, honestly. They were the ones who took me out to the hunting grounds, taught me how to fend for myself. That’s where I learned how to do my whole Defensive Heavy schtick, too, I guess. Rinox hunts always needed someone to get the beast’s attention so the others could take them out safer.”

“You couldn’t just shoot them from afar?” Thea asked.

Lucas snorted. “Could’ve. But that’s not how we do it on Quaris. Hystasis, the god of the hunt, would not have been happy with us. There’s a whole tradition behind it too—respect for the hunt, respect for the land, respect for the creature. Sounds kind of weird when I explain it like that, but it’s just… how things worked.”

He stretched again, rolling his shoulders with a sigh. “Anyway, the hunts ended up giving me more recognition and credits than sticking to my caste ever would’ve. And that, ultimately, got me here. To the UHF, to Alpha Squad. So honestly?” 

He shrugged again, relaxed and confident. “If people like Masters want to act all high-and-mighty, that’s their own damn problem. Folks like that, treating me just like that, are exactly why I am where I am in the first place. Not changing that for her either.”

Thea shook her head, smiling despite herself, still trying to get the last of the laughter out of her system. “Well… whatever it was that made you do all that just now? It was glorious. So it’s definitely golden in my books.”

Lucas’ grin widened. “Happy to be of service.” Then it slipped away, replaced with something quieter. “All that said… the Challenge is real now, huh?”

Thea’s own amusement faded. “Yeah. It seems that way… I’m sorry we couldn’t get you better moments in the Assessment, so you didn’t have to deal with this sort of stuff…”

Lucas stared at her for a moment before shaking his head. “That’s not your job and not your fault. Don’t make it yours, Thea. It’s a bad habit. I just didn’t perform as well as I could’ve with the situations we ended up in, that’s all. No point crying over a lost Rinox—there’ll be more. There always are.”

He let out a long sigh. “Though this Challenge… honestly, it does have me worried. I’ve really been enjoying my time in Alpha so far, and I’d really hate to leave, you know?”

A sharp pang hit Thea at the thought of losing him from the squad. “I will help you prepare as best I can, promise.”

He nodded gratefully. “I’d appreciate that a lot. I don’t think I could even get close on my own. But Isabella’s been working me hard this past week already, and if I could get you to help me figure out my build stuff—maybe even show me some things in the arcade like you did with Isa…?”

Thea nodded without hesitation.

“That would be awesome. Truly. I’m in your debt, Thea,” Lucas said, dipping his head slightly.

Thea shot that down immediately. “No, no, no! We’re a squad! No owing anyone anything, what the fuck, Lucas? Shove that high-caste, owing-shit-to-others up your ass. We help each other when there’s a need for it. That’s all there is to it.”

Lucas blinked at her outburst, then let out a low chuckle, shaking his head like he’d just been scolded by a very small, very angry bird. 

“Alright, alright. Message received,” he said, hands raised in surrender.

Thea huffed, but the edge of her frustration faded fast. “Still… it’s going to be tough to actually prep for this. We don’t even know what Challenges really involve yet, at a detailed level. This’ll be our first one, so we’re basically going in completely blind. And trying to prepare for someone like Masters…” 

She trailed off, grimacing. 

“She’s had way more training than any of us in this sort of stuff. Probably taken together, even. Kinda hard to know what to train for without any idea of what the fight looks like...”

Lucas opened his mouth—probably to say something reassuring—but another voice spoke up from directly behind them.

“I might be able to help with that. If you’d be willing to entertain my company.”

They both turned at once.

A young woman stood a few steps above them, ebony-black hair framing her face in a clean, deliberate style. Soft velvet shadow around her eyes added a quiet elegance—not flashy, but unmistakably high-class at a closer look.

The words she’d spoken had been directed at Lucas, but when her gaze shifted to Thea, meeting her eyes without so much as a twitch—

Recognition hit her like a pulse-jolt.

‘Evelyn?!’ Thea’s eyebrows shot up.

It was her. 

The same girl who’d been a trembling mess asking for her autograph just the day before. 

But the resemblance stopped at her eyes. 

The hair was different, the makeup was new, the posture wasn’t even close, and the timid stammer had mostly disappeared.

This… was not that girl.

Evelyn swallowed, suddenly looking a bit more like the version Thea remembered as she stumbled over her next words, now addressing Thea directly. “I—I’m sorry, I don’t want to intrude or anything of the sorts. I just… overheard. Hard not to, when you’re in the stairway… And I… um… I actually know quite a bit about how Challenges work in the UHF.” 

She paused, then added in a quieter voice, “And about Masters. As a person, I mean. I could help with information on those topics.”

Thea narrowed her eyes at the girl, suspicion-levels off the charts.

‘The same girl that I just met yesterday, just so happens to have the exact information we’re looking for today…?’ 

Thea held Evelyn’s gaze for a second longer, the thought prickling at the back of her skull. 

The timing was too neat. Too convenient. 

Yesterday this girl had been practically shaking herself apart asking for an autograph, and now she suddenly had intel on Challenges and on Rachel Masters specifically, just as they were looking for exactly that kind of information?

But necessity nudged past her paranoia. 

If Evelyn actually knew anything about how UHF Challenges worked—and especially about Masters’ build or intentions with it—then she’d be worth her weight in damn Crysium for Lucas’ prep.

“…Right,” Thea finally said, exhaling slowly. “That’s… a big coincidence, no?”

“It is!” Evelyn blurted, hands coming up quickly in a half-defensive gesture. “I swear it’s just a coincidence. I—I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or anything; I only caught the last part when I was considering squeezing past.” 

Her voice softened, and the nervous tremble returned now that she was addressing Thea directly. “I just thought… if I can help, I should.”

Lucas looked between them, eyebrows tightening. “Uh… do you two know each other?”

Evelyn winced. “K… kind of? We… met yesterday. Briefly.”

She shifted her weight, eyes dropping to the floor as she added quietly, “I, um… I asked for her autograph.”

Lucas’ confusion melted into recognition. “Oh. Got it. That tracks, actually.”

He shot Thea a teasing smirk. “I get it—secret fan club stuff you couldn’t talk about.”

“W–What! What do you mean that tracks?! And what secret fanclub stuff?! There is no secret fanclub!” Thea snapped, then immediately turned on Evelyn. “Tell him! There is no secret fanclub!”

A beat passed, and before Evelyn could speak, Thea added weakly, “Ehh… there is no secret fanclub… right?”

Evelyn jerked in place, eyes going wide.

“I—no! There’s no secret fanclub!” she sputtered, hands lifting in a panicked little half-defensive gesture. “I just… I thought you were really cool… and what you did during the Assessment, and I… I guess I went a little overboard…”

Lucas raised both brows, struggling not to grin. “Mhm. Totally sounds like something a non–secret-fanclub member would say to disperse suspicions.”

“Lucas!” Thea hissed, cheeks heating.

Evelyn shook her head so fast her carefully styled twist shifted out of place. “There really isn’t one! I swear! It was just me being—” she swallowed hard, face flushing, “—weird.”

Thea felt something tight inside of her squeeze at that. 

“…Okay,” Lucas said at last, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Okay, fine. No fanclub. My bad.”

Evelyn let out a small, shaky breath, her shoulders finally easing.

“But I was being honest,” she said carefully, meeting both of their eyes with cheeks still burning red. “About the helping stuff. I really can help with the Challenge—and with getting you the information you’ll need to prepare for Masters.”

Thea and Lucas exchanged a silent look, an entire conversation happening without a word. 

Lucas was clearly asking for her read, and—honestly—Thea couldn’t bring herself to distrust Evelyn. 

The girl was strange, sure, but she was also painfully, downright brutally genuine.

‘That level of embarrassment aired this openly… in front of your celebrity-crush, no less,’ Thea thought, wincing. There was no way anyone could fake that.

So, in the end, she gave Lucas a small nod.

Lucas took that cue and stepped in. “Alright. What exactly do you want in exchange for your help? I assume you wouldn’t give up your afternoons for nothing.”

Thea blinked. 

She… hadn’t even considered that. She’d just assumed Evelyn was offering for free, but—of course—people usually wanted something out of a deal.

Evelyn didn’t flinch. 

If anything, she straightened, as if she’d expected the question, immediately proving Lucas’ approach completely right.

“I…” Her eyes flicked briefly to Thea, then back to Lucas. Her blush deepened. “I’d just… like to be part of it? If that’s okay? Sit in while you train. Maybe learn something. You’re both Alpha Squad, after all… it might help me figure out what I’m doing wrong.”

Her shoulders dipped with a quiet exhale before she added, voice smaller but steadier, “And I… I’d like to consult with Thea on things. When she’s not busy helping you. I’m sure there’ll be moments where she doesn’t need to focus on your training the whole time. I’d just… like the chance to talk to her then.”

Lucas didn’t move to answer—he just looked at Thea, clearly leaving the final call to her.

Which made sense. 

She was the one “paying” here, so to speak. 

But Thea honestly didn’t see it as much of a cost at all. 

Talking to someone who admired her? She’d done that hundreds of times before as MMM. 

It wasn’t difficult. It wasn’t even annoying, most of the time. It might be different in-persona like this, but it’s not something she didn’t feel like she could handle.

But learning about Challenges—and especially about Masters’ plans for them—was practically priceless right now.

So she nodded almost immediately. “Sure. That’s fine with me.”

Evelyn blinked, almost stunned she’d gotten a yes that quickly.

Lucas took that as confirmation and nodded once, decisive. “Alright then. Sounds like we’ve got a deal.” He pulled up his Interface, flicked over his contact ID, and sent it to her. “I’ll message you once we’ve got a time for our first prep session. Probably a day or two, tops.”

Evelyn accepted the ID right away, her whole posture brightening with a barely-contained jolt of excitement. “T-Thank you! Both of you! I won’t waste the opportunity, I swear… Ehh, or your time!” 

She dipped her head several, several times—far too many times—then hurried down the stairs, already fixing the strands of hair that had shaken loose from her twist mid-flight.

Lucas and Thea watched her go. 

Then quietly exchanged a look.

Lucas didn’t say a single additional word about Thea’s very obvious superfan. 

‘Bless him,’ she thought.

With that, they finally continued toward the podium—only for Thea to realize, with a small deflated noise, that Professor Hirana had already packed up and slipped out during their conversation with Evelyn. 

Her question would have to wait for another day.

Not a big deal. They hadn’t been that pressing and they’d gained far more in exchange.

And as she and Lucas stepped out of the hall together, Thea felt a sharp spark of excitement climb up her chest.

Only a few hours left until her meeting with Peria.

Guns, builds, and theorycrafting.

It was going to be a very good afternoon…

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[ND] Chapter 161 - Trust (Redux)

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Chapter 156 - Improvements has just released on RR with no major changes.

For the Fixers, this chapter is new.

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Arkion Dojo session up next!

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I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is the link to the chapter:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/19TSlWASjEoyhWhNKIK-96olHGw1P-I1MQxIjpH2ILj4/edit?usp=sharing

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Chapter 161 - Trust (Redux)

Of all the reactions they could’ve had, that one was nowhere on my list—which, looking back, was embarrassingly naïve on my part.

‘Obviously they’d want the magic wall-running and the magic fucking super-blade, you idiot. What exactly did you think was going to happen when you flashed that in front of them?! They’d just go “oh, that’s neat, thanks for showing me, but I’m good”?!’

I was still bent slightly forward, catching my breath from the [Anima Razor], so I had a couple blessed seconds to think before either of them expected me to say anything. 

My hands still throbbed, but nowhere near the “crippling agony for hours” level the technique used to inflict before. 

Honestly… the difference was kind of wild. 

Faster activation, smoother control, and my fingers weren’t even completely busted. 

If push came to shove, I could probably fire it off again. Maybe twice, if I really pushed it.

‘That’s stupidly good progress… A few more Skill levels for it, maybe a dip into [Manifestation], and some more Anima Attribute… this could actually turn into something properly usable.’

But none of that helped me with the actual problem in front of me.

How the hell was I supposed to talk myself out of this?

It wasn’t that I was opposed to teaching them Anima in principle. 

If anyone deserved answers or tools to defend themselves, it was these two. 

But wanting to teach and being able to teach were two completely separate things, and right now, I knew absolutely jack-shit.

My entire understanding of Anima could fit inside a shot glass, sloshing around sadly with room to spare. Jade and Misha, just from watching me for five minutes, probably now possessed about fifty percent of my total working knowledge. 

The blind leading the blind wasn’t exactly a solid foundation for learning about an entirely different dimension of reality—it was all but a recipe for someone blowing a hole in their hand or slicing their own face off.

And I just so happened to like both of their faces.

Additionally, judging by the way Miss K had reacted when she had learned about how Mr. Shori had taught me Sigils first—before anything else—there was clearly a reason Anima wasn’t just passed around like a party trick. 

It needed proper structure; guidance. 

Someone who knew what the hell they were doing.

Which… yeah. Definitely wasn’t me yet.

‘But maybe that, in itself, is already good enough for now? They’re not unreasonable…’

I took a slow, steadying breath and pushed myself upright, trying to regain at least a little dignity after almost toppling over.

“Ela wouldn’t mind trying to teach Misha and Jade, but Ela cannot do so yet,” I said, putting a hand up before either of them could jump in with the inevitable protests. “As mentioned, Ela has only recently learned about the existence of Anima, and Ela’s knowledge is very, very limited. The only reason Ela has not been torn apart by Ela’s own uses of Anima is pure, unadulterated luck.”

I pointed toward the durasteel plate still in Misha’s hands. 

The Gryplik had picked it up like it was some priceless artifact, examining the impossibly clean cut as if expecting it to start talking.

“That blade uses something called Sigils. That’s… almost everything Ela knows about how it functions. And Ela is not exaggerating here. The Sigils were taught to Ela by an acquaintance, but even they don’t understand what the Sigils actually do, how they do it, or how catastrophically dangerous they actually are. When Ela first showed even the beginnings of that Sigil-sequence to a more experienced Practitioner—that’s what Anima users are called, apparently—Ela was chewed out thoroughly. Ela was told to never show those Sigils again until much, much more experienced.”

It wasn’t until I said it out loud that the realization hit me like a brick to the face.

“…And Ela has, in fact, just broken that rule,” I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck with a wince. “So. Ehh. Ela would ask Jade and Misha not to tell anyone about this part in particular. Even more so than everything else. Even though you both already agreed to secrecy, definitely do not mention Sigils. Ela does not want to be snapped over a knee like a twig.”

An uninvited, teenage-body-hormone-driven thought wriggled its way up before I could stop it—’Although… having Miss K break my back like a glowstick might not be that terrible a thought…’—and heat crept into my face immediately at the sheer indignity of it.

‘What the fuck is wrong with you, Sera? I know it’s been a while, but fuck me, keep yourself together,’ I thought, as I fought to keep myself from facepalming in front of the other two.

Thankfully, both Jade and Misha were still staring at the bisected durasteel, too distracted to notice my thoughts had very briefly wandered into extremely questionable territories that would hopefully never happen again.

Misha was the first to react, humming thoughtfully as she turned the bisected durasteel plate over in her hands. 

“Misha accepts this reasoning. It is wise to know one’s limits of knowledge. And wiser still not to teach dangerous things one does not fully understand.” She tapped the edge of the plate with three of her fingers, almost absentminded. “Misha would not teach creating chemical explosives without knowing much about them either.”

Both Jade and I froze for a beat at that.

The way she’d phrased it implied—very clearly—that she was, in fact, teaching exactly that to someone.

Misha didn’t correct herself. 

She just blinked at us with calm, innocent confusion, as if wondering why we were staring at her.

Jade blinked several times—hard—then shook her head like she was clearing static before turning back toward me.

“Jade is… admittedly disappointed,” she admitted, arms crossing loosely. “But Jade can’t exactly fault Ela for not wanting to teach super dangerous things.” 

She gestured vaguely between my hands and the bisected durasteel plate. “Even if simply knowing about it at all is already… apparently dangerous.”

She hesitated, then added, quieter, “So… this danger. What is it actually? Because so far it sounds incredibly vague at best.”

I winced and shook my head. “Ela cannot say more because Ela doesn’t know more. Not really. The people who warned Ela were all very clear that the danger is real—the kidnapping, torture, death pipeline kind of real—but none of them explained who or what is behind it. Ela only knows that certain extremely high-ranking corpo people already do know about Anima, which… probably puts this whole thing into the ‘black-site project’ tier or just a tier below it.”

Their faces tightened at that, especially Jade’s.

“So Jade and Misha should treat it like… knowing extremely sensitive internal corpo project details,” I continued, keeping my voice firm. “Absolute secrecy. Not a word. Not to anyone.”

I met Jade’s eyes deliberately.

And she met mine.

For several long seconds we simply held each other’s stare, my meaning plain even without words. And I was very glad that Jade was one of the smart people in this world, who got the unspoken meanings behind words instinctively.

Vega’s protege, measuring the angles, the consequences, the leverage. 

But underneath it all, something steadier flickered inside those eyes as well—a sort of hunger or ambition, maybe?

But definitely understanding.

After several beats, she gave me a single, small nod.

A breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding for a while finally left me, tension draining out of my shoulders.

‘She’s not going to tell Vega. Not yet, at least. Maybe that’ll change someday… but as long as I keep her in the loop, I might actually be in the clear here.’

I finally decided to sit back down on the improvised seat from earlier, not feeling like standing any longer. A few seconds later, Jade followed suit with a quieter kind of thump, though Misha was still off to the side, practically nose-to-metal as she continued scrutinizing the durasteel plate like it held the secrets of the universe.

“Ela has managed to get a teacher, of sorts,” I began, settling back against the mountain of clothes behind me. “Still unsure what and how much, exactly, they’ll be able to teach, but if Ela can acquire enough understanding and knowledge, Ela promises to teach Jade and Misha about Anima. Until then… Ela hopes that knowing all this explains at least some of the strangeness that’s been going on around Ela.”

I lifted my hands a little in a vague gesture. “Ela is willing to take any questions for now—better to deal with it all now than let unspoken questions fester, yeah?”

That finally tore Misha’s attention away from the bisected plate. The Gryplik lumbered over and reclaimed her usual perch, settling onto it with an expectant trill.

“Is this whole Anima thing part of the reason Ela is not… well… dying right now?” Jade asked, flicking her fingers loosely in my general direction. “Like—some sort of healing enhancement?”

“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “That’s basically it. The Anima does… something to improve Ela’s healing capabilities. Ela has no idea how, exactly. But Ela was fully recovered maybe half a day after the surgery.”

Both Jade and Misha went slack with shock—exactly what I’d expected, honestly.

I did want them to understand the scale of weirdness we were dealing with, when it came to Anima as a whole—although part of it was the System’s fault, obviously. But by all metrics I could use to measure, the System was Anima, in a way… So I wasn’t exactly lying.

And I wanted them to understand that I trusted them enough by now to let them in on this—because this was the kind of information that corps would murder entire families to get a whiff of. 

Near-instant recovery from major physical trauma? Yeah. That wasn’t small stuff.

If even just the pharmaceutical corporations were the only ones interested in this kind of knowledge, I’d be more than surprised.

“And Ela’s blood disappeared because of Anima too, yes?” Misha asked eagerly.

I nodded. “Ela leaves no physical traces for long. Blood, spit, footprints, sweat, hair—doesn’t matter. Anything Ela leaves behind that counts as a trace is removed by Anima. No idea why or how. Ela hasn’t found a way to turn it off, either.”

“Fuck me… So that’s how…” Jade breathed, staring at me with an expression that was one part awe, one part hunger. For someone whose entire life more or less revolved around stealth and escape, this was like dangling the juiciest of steaks in front of a starving lion.

“And Ela is sure this can’t be taught…?” she pressed, inching closer. “Even if it can’t be turned off? Jade wouldn’t really mind if it was… y’know… active all the time. Could definitely learn to handle that kind of problem.”

I nodded gravely, having to smother the small, bubbling laugh that threatened to slip out at the sheer sparkle in Jade’s eyes—but laughing here didn’t feel right. 

She wasn’t joking. 

She was genuinely starving for a way to get better, to stop feeling like she was behind everyone else, and I understood that feeling a little too well.

“Yeah… that’s one of the parts Ela knows the least about, unfortunately,” I admitted, rubbing at my forearm as I tried to put it into words. “These weird… powers—whatever we want to call them—they just kind of… appear. Ela doesn’t go hunting for them. They show up when they want to show up, like they’re part of whatever the World’s plans are. Or something equally vague and unhelpful as that.”

I winced at how stupid that sounded even as it left my mouth.

“One of Ela’s acquaintances—someone who actually knows things about this whole Anima mess—said that the World, capital W, has started taking interest in Ela for some reason.” I hesitated for a second, then added, “That’s apparently why the Sprites… uhh, think of them as the smallest particles of Anima, sort of atom-like but maybe a little sentient?—keep reworking Ela’s body every now and then.”

I flexed my fingers, then my arms. 

They both immediately zeroed in on the motion like hawks.

I wasn’t ripped, but the difference to just a few days ago was very noticeable. Absolutely a definition around my biceps and just along the entire musculature in my arms that had never really been visible like this before.

Body 6 had done a lot of work.

“But don’t misunderstand,” I continued, letting my voice drop a shade lower as I met their eyes in turn. “This isn’t without consequences or major risks.”

Their attention sharpened instantly.

“When the Sprites rework Ela’s body… it is painful. Horrifically so. They pull apart muscles, tendons, bone structures, nerve bundles—everything—microscopically, then stitch it all back together stronger than before.” I tapped my sternum lightly. “It feels like being dismantled and rebuilt in real time. Without Ela’s weird healing enhancements from the Anima as well, Ela isn’t sure if it would be survivable. Or if surviving is even the right wording… maybe it’d just take months to recover each time.”

Both of them stared, wide-eyed—Jade pale, Misha’s tufts flattened halfway in distress.

“Point is,” I finished, leaning back a bit, “whatever Ela has… it’s not clean at all. Definitely not safe. Not something Ela would give out, even if Ela understood what was happening, unless there was a way to get around the dangers.”

Jade deflated a little at that, clearly still having hoped that maybe there was something I could teach her that could help her immediately improve in some capacity, but she also nodded slowly. “Jade understands… That really does not sound fun at all.”

“Definitely not fun…” Misha confirmed with a series of nods of her own, then stopped mid-way through and tilted her head. “But potentially interesting to observe, yes.”

I chose to ignore that last part, then spread my arms in an invitation, “Anything else Jade or Misha want to ask about this whole thing?”

And they both asked every question they could come up with…

—

It took around an hour to get through everything, most of it me deflecting with a frustrated “Yeah, Ela wishes Ela actually knew that,” which—honestly—wasn’t even a lie. 

I wanted to give them clean answers, not the repeated variations of “Sorry, no clue” that ended up making up half the conversation. 

Still, little by little, the questions slowed, and both of them eventually settled into a kind of cautious satisfaction.

We’d shifted around a lot over that hour, dragging crates and cloth and cushioning into something that resembled a lopsided nest more than proper seats. 

The first setup had been fine for a few minutes, but absolutely awful for anything longer, so the three of us had gradually built up this weird, cozy arrangement as the conversation went on.

Somewhere along the way, I’d ended up divulging a fair amount of my physical toolkit—mostly because Jade’s questions kept hitting a bit too close, and Misha’s curiosity had a way of boring straight through defenses. 

I’d talked about [Blademaster’s Strike] when Jade had asked about the incident with that annoying Valir-brat and covered most of my other physical-related Perks like [Ambidexterity] as well, though I made very sure to keep every mental aspect far, far away from the table. 

All the more abstract Perks—[Spiritus Machina], [Cultural Savant], anything that smelled even remotely like System-assisted knowledge—stayed firmly unmentioned. 

Same for the more… magical ones, like [Resourceful Chef]. 

I had no clue how to begin explaining that one anyway, especially as I had not even used it yet.

Even so, between everything I had shared, both Jade and Misha walked away with a surprisingly solid picture of what my physical capabilities looked like. 

More than anyone else in this world knew at this point.

A small, uneasy knot lingered in the back of my mind when I glanced at Jade. 

She wasn’t mine—not in loyalty, not in priority—and she reported to Vega first. 

Yet… everything I had shared with her didn’t feel like a terrible risk. 

My Intuition had been weirdly active throughout this whole conversation, nudging me toward certain topics and away from others, arranging my scattered abilities into something that looked coherent and logical, even to me.

From the outside, it must have seemed like I’d revealed practically everything I knew, as I had not blitzed off any of their questions even once. In reality though, it had just been my gut pointing me away from anything that wasn’t purely physical. 

Anything that hinted too hard at Anima altering my immediate knowledge or brain had stayed locked away without a second thought.

‘Which, to be fair, still sounds extremely smart and logical to do, now that I think about it. So… yeah. Good job, Sera. And good job, Intuition. Great teamwork, you two. Keep it up.’

It felt decidedly odd to spill so much of myself to what were, if I was being blunt, still basically strangers—though that was sort of how friendships started, wasn’t it? 

You handed someone a piece of trust and hoped they didn’t drop it. 

And both Misha and Jade had already done that for me. 

They’d trusted me first, when I’d asked them for time to explain, which they’d given without complaint.

So this—me offering something real back—was just the natural next step in the progression.

At least, that was what I kept telling myself. 

Repeatedly.

‘And I’m definitely not just running that line on loop to make myself believe it. Nope. Just very deep, very normal philosophical musings. Totally normal, yep.’

Either way, our little meeting started winding down. 

Not just because guilt was nibbling at my heels—Misha’s poor shop had been closed for hours thanks to me—but because we had simply hit the bottom of the Anima-topic barrel. 

Questions answered, mysteries acknowledged, and no real way forward until I actually learned more myself. 

On top of that, the day was getting late enough that the lights inside the Emporium had started shifting more evening-cozy than midday-bright, the kind of lighting that made you realize just how late it really was getting.

So we wrapped things up, the three of us sitting in our lopsided nest of crates and cloth like we were finishing the world’s strangest study session.

I pushed myself to my feet, brushing off a few non-existent threads, and turned to Misha first.

“Ela will be back soon. To shop… and to talk,” I said, and I meant it. “Misha can message Ela whenever Misha feels like it.”

Her tufts perked instantly, ruby eyes lighting up with that warm, earnest friendliness she never even tried to hide. “Misha will! Friend Ela must also message Misha, yes! Always welcome here, whenever.”

I smiled softly at that. Then I faced Jade. 

She’d already stood, hands in her pockets, trying very hard to look casual despite the million thoughts clearly racing behind her eyes.

“I will get in contact when I have more information,” I told her. “Or if I need anything specific in regards to your other duties. But you can also message whenever.” 

I hesitated for a second, then added, “Seriously. Whenever, alright?”

Jade gave a short nod—almost crisp, almost formal—but the look in her eyes was warmer than I’d ever seen from her. “I will. And… thanks. For trusting me with all this. I… I wasn’t expecting that.”

I nodded back, then glanced between them both.

“One last reminder,” I said, tone dipping into something dead-serious. “Everything Anima-related stays between us. Not for friends, not for coworkers, not for curious idiots. Not for anyone. This is for your sake as much as Ela’s. Seriously.”

They both answered immediately.

“Misha will not tell anyone,” Misha said, tufts flattening in solemn promise.

“Jade understands,” Jade added. “No slip-ups.”

And with that, our strange little secret meeting finally came to a close.

Misha lumbered off toward the front, flipping signs and tapping through security measures with the practiced ease of someone who could probably rebuild her entire shop from pieces of scrap if she really had to. 

The Emporium hummed back to life for the evening crowd.

Jade gave me a last nod before slipping out into the neon-lit thoroughfare, already vanishing into the shifts of foot traffic like she’d never been there at all.

And I… I headed back toward the nearest elevator to get back to the apartment Valeria had set me up in, letting the day finally settle across my shoulders. 

Finally, there wasn’t anything left that absolutely needed doing for the moment. 

No fires to put out. No secretive meetings. No looming deadlines gnawing at my spine.

Tomorrow, though… Tomorrow was going to be a whole different marathon once again.

The next Arkion Dojo session was on the schedule, which meant I’d have to bullshit my way through explaining what, exactly, had happened to my body since the last time they’d seen me—and more importantly, how I’d somehow managed to jump several rungs up the ladder in performance overnight.

Miss K would absolutely demand answers straight away—of that, I had no doubt. 

The rest of the dojo crew would have questions of their own. 

And I sure as hell didn’t have a rehearsed explanation ready for any of them.

But the chance to actually test the new Attribute rank-ups… and [Flow]…?

That part had me positively buzzing with excitement.

But first, I’d probably need Miss K’s help to even begin covering my ass on the “how did Sera suddenly turn into a different person” front.

But that was something tomorrow’s Sera would deal with.

Today’s Sera was absolutely fucking done and needed another nap…

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[Wolf Lord+ | Draft] Volume 2 - Chapter 64 - Just Another Day

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Welcome to the draft release of Volume 2 - Chapter 64 - Just Another Day for y'all.

As always, a quick reminder that this chapter is still in the process of being workshopped by me and that this is simply the first-draft.

And also: Please do not read the chapters here on Patreon, but go for the googledoc, .pdf or .epub instead. Patreon butchers all forms of formatting and you're missing out on easier and more enjoyable reading experiences.

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A micro-focused chapter today, but it's an important one.

Still thinking about how I want to structure the next chapter, let me know if you want to see the full breakdown in the next chapter or if a quick-and-dirty version would be better.

I'm more inclined towards a quick-and-dirty recap for the next chapter to be better, but I'm open for feedback.

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I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is the link to the chapter:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1VhSYSL2VTLOS3NCnEDJdUOlSJ53rDUZD58CEd02FXXs/edit?usp=sharing

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Volume 2 - Chapter 64 - Just Another Day

“And you are certain of this…?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve cross-referenced and triple-checked everything. I even went to several of our Long-Term Precogs personally—one at a time, isolated consultations—just to make sure there was no cross-contamination. But every single one reported the same exact result.”

A long silence followed, heavy enough to bend the air.

“That’s impossible,” the superior officer said quietly. “All Long-Term Precogs, across multiple inquiries, seeing the same massive shift in the Galactic War? One anomaly, perhaps. But universal alignment? No. There must be something else at play.”

“I know, sir. I can’t explain it either… but I’m certain about this. This has happened twice now.”

The chair creaked as the superior officer slowly sat back. “Twice?”

“The first instance was a few weeks ago. It was dismissed at first, because no one filed anything formal—nobody realized others had seen similar visions. Long-Term Precognition is an inherently difficult and, at times, faulty Path after all. It was dismissed by the Psykers as nothing more than the usual inaccuracies. It was only after several of the Precogs casually compared notes later that they recognized the overlap. By the time this was reported however, the data was already too old to start any real investigations as to its origin.”

“And today served as confirmation.”

“Yes, sir. The moment the second event happened, reports flooded in immediately.”

Another silence—longer this time.

“You’re absolutely certain here? They all say the same thing?”

The report-bearer swallowed. “Gravely certain, sir. They all describe a massive shift radiating from Terra’s southern Factions—the Stellar Republic, the Celestial Dominion, and the United Human Federation. Something happened among one of them—or maybe all of them. Something there has detonated through the Void like a sort of… psychic supernova, for a lack of better word. It is drowning out every other Thread. They can’t see anything past it at all.”

The officer’s fingers drummed once, sharply. 

Silence stretched to the breaking point before he finally prompted, “There’s more, isn’t there?”

“It’s not just ours, sir.” The words came out strained, reluctant. “I have a… friend, in another Faction. One who should not be speaking to me at all. Especially not about things like these…”

The officer’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t interrupt.

“They’ve confirmed the same thing. Their Precogs saw it too. All of them. Every single Long-Term Precog they have is reporting an identical end to their Threads.”

The report-bearer exhaled shakily.

“It… It might not just be ours and theirs, but all of them, sir. Every single Long-Term Precog in the entire galaxy…”

—

[Unknown Excerpt: Report Of Galaxy-Wide, Long-Term Precognition Anomalies, PFC943]

======

======

When Thea woke the morning after her long Gram-and-weapons deep dive with Peria, she knew instantly that something was very wrong.

Her whole body felt tight, her chest wound up with a heavy knot of anxiety that tightened with every breath she took.

“W… What’s going on…?” she whispered, slowly pushing herself upright and scanning the room.

She was in her own quarters. Everything looked normal.

Nothing out of place, nothing broken, no alarms blaring, yet the dread in her stomach only got worse, coiling like she was waiting for an impact she couldn’t see.

‘Did I forget something important…?’ she wondered, going back through the last day in her mind. But there had been no schedule set, no appointments, no looming deadlines or lectures that she needed to attend. 

This had been supposed to be the first day in what felt like weeks where she didn’t have anything planned—her own self-declared break from the never-ending madness of the UHF Marine Corps’ schedule.

And still, the feeling wouldn’t let her go. 

It sat in her chest like a warning she couldn’t interpret, like something was coming and she was already too late to stop it; could only look on in dread as it approached.

She got up from her bed and took a steaming-hot shower to try and uncoil her tense muscles, but even before she stepped out to dry herself off, she already knew it hadn’t really helped.

“No, seriously, what the fuck is going on…? Do I need to check with Kara if I’m sick or something…?” she muttered, slipping into her favourite pullover—comfortable clothing usually worked wonders against anxiety.

“Good morning, Thea,” the Sovereign’s voice came from everywhere and nowhere at once, like it always did when she started her morning routine. “Is everything alright?”

Thea sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “I’m not sure. I’m feeling really tense today… Did I forget some kind of appointment? Anything I mentioned and then spaced? Something happening today that I should know about?”

She didn’t really want to lean on the ship’s AI too much, given both Kara’s and Æht’s warnings still echoing in her mind, but this kind of request wasn’t exactly breaking the bank in terms of offered trust, she figured.

“I have no records of any planned or scheduled meetings involving you today,” the Sovereign answered smoothly. “Nothing forgotten or unaccounted for that you had planned, from what my records show.”

“Hmm.” Thea hummed under her breath as she finished getting dressed, pulling on simple black pants to match the pullover and checking herself once in the mirror. “Not my best work, but I’m not exactly trying to impress anyone today…”

She considered putting on make-up—something she’d been experimenting with a bit lately—but decided against it. 

Today was meant to be low-effort, pure relaxation.

But as she moved toward the door to step out into Alpha Squad’s communal area, something odd finally caught her eye. As the display beside the door lit up as it always did when she got closer, a small red number 2 resting above a delivery-box icon made her stop dead in her tracks.

‘Two deliveries…?’ Thea frowned. 

She’d never woken up to anything like that before. 

She’d ordered things to her room before—tools for her small workbench, basic materials to experiment with—but she had never gotten anything overnight. And she definitely hadn’t ordered anything recently that would take extra time to arrive; everything she’d purchased had already shown up days ago.

Carefully, like the screen might explode if she tapped it wrong, she swiped the display and opened the details for the first delivery.

Her eyebrows shot up when she read who it was from.

“Councillor Lumis…?”

She accepted the delivery request, and a package immediately materialized on the floor in front of her door.

Her fingers brushed the smooth, matte surface of the small rectangular parcel as she gently picked it up. It was wrapped in a sleek, dark packaging with the Sovereign’s standard delivery seal and a tiny holo-tag clipped to its side. 

She peeled the tag open first and started reading the Councillor’s message.

“Of fucking course that’s the reason I’m feeling like shit today…” Thea muttered under her breath, stomach twisting as soon as she caught the first line.

She forced herself to read the entire message anyway:

“Happy Birthday, Thea.
I have received the go-ahead to provide a gift for you on this day from the UHF, to both celebrate your special day, as well as continue to show our goodwill towards you, given everything you have gone through as a result of our mistakes.
Please accept it as a token of our appreciation for you.
I hope that you will enjoy this gift and find plentiful use for it in the upcoming years.
Have a wonderful birthday.
– Councillor Lumis”

A humorless laugh escaped her as she finished reading. 

‘No wonder I’m feeling like this. Of all the things to forget about…’

She opened the actual package and immediately froze when she laid eyes on what it contained.

Inside—resting snug in shock-foam—sat a sleek, silver-black device shaped a bit like a reinforced forearm bracer, its smooth surface splitting into modular segments towards the front that hinted at its hidden transformations. 

A faint blue trace light ran across its spine as it recognized her body’s proximity, almost like it was breathing in anticipation of being put on.

Thea couldn’t even breathe. She knew exactly what this was.

“Is that… a fucking Helion-Works VectorForge Omnitool…?”

She had stared at one of the predecessor models on the GalNet back on Lumiosia—watched every review, every flashy ad, dreaming about it—but she never even as much as considered owning one. 

First and foremost, Helion-Works didn’t ship to Midworlds, period.

And even if they had, the price tag alone could’ve probably bought half the damn Undercity itself, if not more.

Her hands trembled slightly as she gingerly lifted it out of the foam.

Two things stood out to her close scrutiny of the tool immediately, just like in the ads:

First—the adaptive toolface: Thousands of micro-machined components able to reorganize into different toolheads on demand. Need a soldering pen? A precision cutter? A micro-wrench for weapon internals? It could shift forms in a fraction of a second and could even be controlled via simple thoughts, once paired with a proper link.

Second—the integrated holo-lens: A tiny projector along its side, which naturally could also move around the tool without impediment should other angles be required, capable of magnified holographic schematics, material stress overlays, component tracking, and so much more—it could map the full internal structure of any given item in real time as she worked on it. 

Even weapon schematics, like the one Peria had shown her yesterday, would make a heap more sense with something like this assisting as she took the weapon apart.

“This… This is too much,” she said quietly, shaking her head.

It was simply too expensive. Too advanced for somebody like her. Too perfect a dream gift. 

Something she’d wanted for years but always assumed she’d never even get to look at, much less touch—and definitely not own.

Thea swallowed hard, staring at the gift in stunned silence.

“Holy fucking shit…” she whispered, unsure whether to feel grateful, overwhelmed… or maybe even a little terrified about what a gift like this could imply.

A thought struck her then. 

She turned toward the air as if the ship’s AI itself was standing there with her. “Sovereign… how do gifts like this work inside the DDS? What happens if I leave the DDS? Does this… come with me?”

The AI replied without hesitation.

“Items purchased within the DDS fall under several categories: Licenses, Digital Items, and Products. Licenses you are already familiar with. Digital Items are things such as your clothing, the tools and materials you have obtained for your workbench, and most things bound strictly to the DDS environment. Products, however, function as both Digital Items within the DDS and as a limited physical item once outside; a sort of hybrid between the other two.

“Unlike Licenses however, Products are not infinitely reprintable. They exist as a singular item that becomes part of your physical equipment upon exit. Products acquired within the DDS are transferred into your personal storage aboard the ship once procured—typically within several weeks to a month, depending on the exact item and current supply routing.

“The gift you have received from Councillor Lumis is classified as such a Product. A real-space version of the Helion-Works VectorForge Omnitool will be delivered to your storage locker once acquired. The current estimate of procurement for this particular Product sits at around a week. It will be loaded aboard during the next scheduled resupply window.”

Her disbelief only grew with the Sovereign’s answer. 

Real-space. Not just a digital toy she’d lose once she left the DDS. 

A real VectorForge Omnitool was coming her way.

“That’s insane…” she breathed. “What the fuck did I ever do to deserve something like this…?”

Her hand moved almost on its own as she slid the omnitool’s bracer onto her forearm. 

The metal adjusted instantly, tightening and reshaping until it rested perfectly against her skin like it had been custom-made just for her.

A tiny, excited laugh slipped out when the holographic interface pulsed to life.

She went straight to her workbench, grabbing a few scrap mechanical parts to test the VectorForge’s different modes. 

A plasma cutter the size of a pen-tip sliced through metal like it was softened wax.

A micro-welder fused pieces back together without even leaving burn marks. 

She switched to scan mode and the tool threw up clean, detailed diagnostics right into the air above her arm. A simple flick of her wrist moved the schematics to overlay with the circuit, showcasing exactly where it had detected damage from her earlier slicing and splicing experiments.

For a few minutes, the anxiety that had owned her morning simply… vanished. She giggled under her breath like an idiot, because this stupidly amazing tool was just that fun.

Eventually though, after spending far too much time just playing around with the myriad options of the omnitool, she forced herself to take it off.

“Focus, idiot,” she muttered, setting it down as gently.

She walked back toward the room’s entrance, where the display still showed a second delivery waiting. 

When she tapped it, the only sender information listed was: Anonymous.

“Anonymous?” she said aloud, frowning. “Sovereign, what’s that about?”

“Interpersonal deliveries can be sent anonymously for an increased service fee,” the AI explained. “However, all packages are scanned for illegal or harmful materials before delivery. It is safe.”

“Huh… okay.” She scratched her cheek, uncertain. “Kind of weird, but sure… I guess.”

She accepted the delivery. 

Another box shimmered into existence—far bigger than the first. 

The holotag attached to it only read: “Happy Birthday.”

No signature attached, no additional message, nothing.

Thea opened it carefully, unsure of what to expect.

And froze.

Inside was an entire makeup arsenal. 

High-end palettes. Precision brushes. Skin primers and finishers. 

Even several datashards labeled: Beginner, Intermediate, Advanced and Artistic Styles.

“…What?” Thea stared like the box might start explaining itself.

She’d worn makeup for one day. One! And now this?

Suspicion crept in immediately.

“Kara?” she muttered. 

It made sense… except it didn’t. 

Kara would have just shoved the stuff in her hands and mocked her technique to her face. 

Anonymous wasn’t her style. At all. That wasn’t the kind of friendship they had.

Unless Kara thought her makeup looked that bad yesterday. But even in that case, which Thea seriously doubted, she’d have roasted her while handing over the box, not hidden behind anonymity.

“Okay… so if not Kara… then who?” She asked the empty room.

No answer came. 

Only the anxiety she’d briefly forgotten slid right back into her chest, heavier this time.

Someone was definitely watching her. And they were paying far too close attention.

But given the very clear cost of the gift—which had to be substantial, especially compared to how expensive her own tiny make-up haul had been already—it didn’t seem likely that any normal Recruit could afford something like this. 

Outside of Alpha Squad, Beta Squad and maybe a handful of the top Assessment scorers, no one could realistically have the credits to pull off a present like that.

‘Maybe one of the Professors or Majors…? But why would they even care?’

Thea let out a long breath, accepting that she probably wasn’t going to solve the mystery sitting in her room. 

She tucked the whole box away into her wardrobe—well out of sight. Kara was due to drop by sooner or later, and Thea really didn’t feel like navigating questions she couldn’t answer.

Only then did she finally step out into Alpha Squad’s communal space—then paused immediately mid-step.

Everyone was awake and present. All of them.

Usually, only Corvus or Kara were up at this hour, but today, every single member was already there, moving about like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Thea took two steps into the common room—then Lucas looked up from his plate, her door right in line of sight from his usual spot.

“Ah! Morning, Thea! Happy birthday.” A big tooth grin was plastered on his face, but Thea saw little of it, because her stomach lurched at the words. 

Anxiety spiked so fast she thought she might actually vomit, her vision going slightly blurry.

Corvus appeared, having gotten up from his seat and walked around the table before she even had time to respond, moving with that perfect social grace of his. 

He spread his arms like he was announcing a parade, urging her to come take a seat.

“Thea! Good morning and happy birthday! May the Emperor grant you a year of clean shots, stable footing, and minimal paperwork.” He grinned like this was a galaxy-wide holiday.

Isabella, meanwhile, didn’t even look up from her plate, “Morning, Thea.” 

Kara had practically launched herself out of her seat when Lucas had welcomed her. Before Thea could really brace for impact, warm arms wrapped around her waist and she was guided toward the table.

“Happy birthday, Thea!” Kara beamed, tugging her down into the empty seat beside her. 

“Pancake for breakfast—still hot, don’t worry.”

Desmond was the last to speak up. 

His voice caught in his throat before it came out—quiet, almost unsure.

“Uh… morning. And… ehh, happy birthday, I guess.” He scratched at the corner of his datapad, clearly wrestling with how much eye contact was considered appropriate for their newly agreed upon neutrality. “Hope it’s… good.”

Every word, every well-meaning syllable, twisted that coil of dread inside her tighter. 

She forced herself to smile anyway.

“Thank you all,” she managed, nodding to each of them. “Really. Just… surprised. I honestly completely forgot about it myself.”

She blinked at them all sitting there—like a staged intervention—and asked, “How did you even know?”

All fingers turned simultaneously toward Corvus.

The Squad Leader froze mid-sip, having sat down at his usual spot.

“I specifically told you not to tell her,” he said, voice razor-flat as he stared down his traitorous unit. “There will be consequences for this insubordination.”

Lucas didn’t look up and simply continued eating, Isabella gave him a shit-eating grin, Kara hummed innocently and Desmond pretended to check a notification that definitely didn’t exist.

And Thea—still dizzy from the tight dread grinding at the back of her throat—did her best to laugh along with them.

Corvus exhaled slowly, then met her eyes. “Well, that’s out in the open now… anyway.” 

His tone softened. “We thought it might be nice to do something for your birthday. Nothing crazy, nothing stressful—just something you’d hopefully enjoy.”

She forced her smile a little wider, doing her best to sound curious instead of nauseous. 

“Oh? Like what?”

Corvus’ grin grew, and he motioned to the rest of Alpha. “Everyone pitched in. We know you’d rather be productive than sit around, even on a break day, so I figured we should aim for something up your alley. A squad-wide first-DM review. All of us did ours as soon as we could so we’d be ready for today, and no one has shared their footage yet. We’ll watch them together, break them apart, talk improvements, maybe plan build adjustments—just a productive sort of fun.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Sound good?”

That actually did sound really fucking good. 

Far, far better than she had expected, if she was being honest with herself. 

Even with her chest still tight and her pulse too loud in her ears, the idea of reviewing their DMs together—improving, analyzing, learning—was exactly the kind of thing that clicked right into the part of her brain she trusted most. 

So she nodded, showing a toothy smile. “Yeah… that sounds great. Thanks, Corvus.”

She sat down at the table and tried to eat the pancake Kara placed in front of her. 

Tried being the key word. 

Every bite felt like it got stuck halfway, the tension still there, still coiled and ready to snap. 

Thankfully, the others mostly slipped back into their usual morning rhythm. 

Soft chatter, utensils, casual noise—but not pointed at her. Not centered on her. 

Only Kara nudged a few questions about yesterday’s meeting with Peria, and Thea answered them quickly between bites, sharp and short, hoping it didn’t sound rude. 

Kara just smiled and let it slide, so either she hadn’t noticed, or she assumed Thea was just hungry and half-asleep. 

Probably for the best.

Breakfast ended. 

Corvus clapped once, loud enough to pull every eye. “Alright. Couch. Let’s get this thing started. I’ll go first, so you guys can laugh at how terrible this all went for me and we figure out how we should structure this whole thing—bit of a free-form setup. Didn’t really spend much time thinking about what we should do here, figured that would be more fun.”

They migrated over to the living room setup—big couch, cushioned seats, a holo-projector ready and waiting. 

Thea took a spot beside Kara who was busy talking to Corvus about how they should structure everything, leaving the space on her right open for Isabella as always.

But Isabella didn’t sit down next to her right away.

Instead—sudden warmth. Strong pressure. 

Heavy, steady arms wrapped over the back of the sofa and around Thea’s upper shoulders from behind before she could even turn. 

Close enough that Thea felt breath on her ear.

“No need to speak; don’t turn. Just listen, alright?” Isabella’s voice was low, rough around the edges, almost reluctant. “I’m not good at this, but here goes: You’re fine, Thea. I won’t let anything happen to you, okay? The others… they don’t understand. Won’t really get it, even if we explain. Midworlds aren’t kind; never were. Undercities even less so. Birthdays aren’t happy for most of us, least of all for those of us that crawled out of the terrible orphanages alive.”

Thea didn’t breathe, her heart beating in her ears.

“But we’re not there anymore, Thea. Not me. Not you. We’re here now. Together. So just know—nobody’s going to do anything to you just because you got older. They’ll have to get through me first, Princess. And I just so happen to be the strongest damn fighter in this whole fucking Drive. So… Just another day, right?”

Thea felt a warmth radiate through her. So sudden she almost shook with it. 

The anxiety was not gone, not fixed, but markedly softened by the unexpected words—like someone had finally wrapped a blanket around all the splintering glass in her ribs.

Then Isabella released her, stepped around the couch, and dropped into the open seat like nothing happened at all. 

She looked at Desmond with a grin that was ninety percent teeth.

“Hey Des, think you’ll survive watching your DM with an audience, or should we set up a bucket in case you cry? What’s the over-under on whether you offed yourself with a drone again?”

Desmond sputtered, “I… What?! I don’t cry—Fuck me, one accident and suddenly everyone thinks—”

The room erupted in laughter and Thea simply took the time to breathe. 

Really breathe.

And for the first time that morning, she felt something other than dread…

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[TAS] Volume 2 - Chapter 61 - System 102: Class Primer

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Volume 2 - Chapter 57 - Debrief has just released on RR with no changes.

For the Wolf Lords, this chapter has seen no changes.

And also: Please do not read the chapters here on Patreon, but go for the googledoc, .pdf or .epub instead. Patreon butchers all forms of formatting and you're missing out on easier and more enjoyable reading experiences.

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Kept this one's excerpt deliberately smaller, cause I knew it would be a bit of a chonker in general.

Describing Abilities is quite wordy, unfortunately!

Hope you enjoy this first look at Build Theory and Classes in TAS!

PS: As always, .epub/.pdf or googledoc MUCH advised! Formatting/Colours don't work here, so the Class Descriptions might be completely illegible.

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I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is the link to the chapter:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1pNvnwLa4UJXRUK9VC6t6I2ws4wOsL1dTV2piK1k_Shc/edit?usp=sharing

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Volume 2 - Chapter 61 - System 102: Class Primer

“—as a result, I was ultimately asked to fill in as an expert, even if I’m officially retired still. But with so much on the line… I get it. 

“So, I’ll be heading to the Iter sector in the coming weeks. 

“By the time you get this, I’ll probably be halfway through the assignment already, if things go the way they’re supposed to.

“Anyway, just out of curiosity—and don’t read too much into this, because I know you just can’t help yourself—are there any new findings on post-Deterioration recovery in the last two decades? Is the general recovery period still around two months, or have there been any new findings on the matter? I haven’t really kept up with the literature, but it’s a topic I’ve heard a bit about recently and wanted to follow-up on.

“Also, thanks for the Assessment report. Great reading, actually helped keep me motivated while I was prepping for this little trip. 

“But now you’ve got me curious about even more things.

“So, one last question, since I know you’re a busy man these days instead of that unruly brat I used to smack around to get your head straight:

“How’s my daughter doing, Atlas? She managed to make any friends? She’s always been… a bit strange, that one, but with the type of people the UHF pulls in every year with the Recruitment Drives, I figured she’d at least find a few who’d stick around.

“If even I managed it, there’s no way she won’t. I’ve put a lot of effort into making sure that she’s a better person than me in every regard, so… has she?”

—

[Excerpt from private long-distance correspondence between (Clearance Level Insufficient) and a command-level personnel of the UHF Marine Corps — Author: (Clearance Level Insufficient) – PFC943]

======

======

Professor Hirana rose from the comfy armchair with a quiet grunt of displeasure—which Thea could fully understand, since the chair looked downright illegally comfortable—before stepping back behind the podium and catching everyone’s attention again. 

The conversations and the lively buzz in the room slowly died down.

“Now, I’m certain you’ve all had enough fun comparing yourselves to each other, so let’s get back on track with a few additional pointers regarding your PV,” she said, sweeping her gaze across the hall as if making sure every single Recruit heard this part clearly. 

“First and foremost, never assume that it is a completely accurate metric for just about anything but a quick overview. There are myriad ways to inflate your PV without actually becoming a better Marine or combatant, so don’t assume that just because your PV is high, you’re the reincarnation of the Emperor himself.”

Half a dozen hands shot up immediately and she rolled her eyes.

“And no, the Emperor is not dead, as far as I know. It’s a figure of speech.”

All of the hands went down at once.

“Finally, let’s set a baseline for what you should be aiming for with your PV toward the end of the year. This will give you a rough idea of where you stand right now, and what kind of Maintenance and Faction Trait costs you can expect going into your first real-world deployments once you all become Privates.”

That made Thea sit up straighter.

‘I have no idea what anyone else’s PV looks like… but based on the pre-Assessment comparison with the rest of Alpha, I’d guess the average is maybe half or a third of mine?’ she thought, forcing herself to focus on the next part.

Lucas, beside her, seemed just as interested; their eyes met briefly, a shared spark of curiosity passing between them.

“Your average Recruitment Drive, at this stage,” the Professor continued, “meaning after the first Assessment and coming off the first day’s worth of Digital Missions—which I’m sure some of you have already dipped your toes into—is a good baseline for comparison. Most Recruits would now be around Level 4, with Alpha Squad and similarly exceptional Marines being closer to Level 6, or in very rare cases, even Level 7.”

A wave of excited murmurs and small celebrations rippled across the hall.

Thea, however, went still, then slowly turned to side-eye Lucas. 

He was already looking at her with a smug, much-saying grin plastered across his face.

‘That can’t be right… I know I overperformed during the Assessment, but… seriously? Three whole levels above the “rare circumstances” group?’

Professor Hirana continued, while tapping her pen on the podium, “Now, based on the reaction that got, I’m fairly sure most of you are performing above the average—and frankly, that matches our expectations. You are what we consider a real bumper-crop of a Recruitment Drive. One of the most promising the UHF has ever had, across the board.”

That earned another round of excited murmurs. 

A few Marines in Thea’s view even high-fived each other.

A small smile tugged at the Professor’s lips as she went on, “When it comes to PV overall, Recruits at your current stage would normally be aiming for the 250–300 range. But I’d imagine most of you are closer to 350–400.”

Thea’s brain simply stopped.

Lucas looked to be dealing with the same issue—mid-swallow, coughing like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

“W… What?” Thea whispered, and Lucas nodded through watery eyes, fully agreeing with her shock.

‘At least I’m not the only one thinking this feels insanely low,’ she thought, feeling a small rush of relief. ‘I’m more than four times the average Recruit in PV…? Does that even make sense?’

She thought back to the pre-Assessment, where she’d already been at 411.

Then again… she had been placed in Alpha for a reason. She’d done well in the Cube Trial. 

She hadn’t lazed around after Integration either—she’d trained, made sure her equipment was fully prepared and decked out, and filled out her Abilities long before the Assessment had even begun.

And during the Assessment itself, she’d realized she had gotten absurdly lucky with her squad, the paths they took, and the situations they had ended up in—even if she hadn’t survived any of it. 

Lucky or not, she’d still earned the Two-Star Crysium MVM award and landed relatively high on the overall leaderboards.

‘Maybe it isn’t that strange after all… Statistically, the very top of the Drive being several times higher than the average is normal—especially this early. More than four times might be pushing it a little, but I have essentially already reached the cap. The gap will close after the next Assessments since I can’t level anymore or reliably increase my Attributes right now. All my Ability slots are also full, so… yeah. I guess it tracks, after all.’

Lucas had finally caught his breath again, though his expression had quickly shifted into deep concentration by the time Professor Hirana spoke up once more.

“Now, for the end of the year—going into Tier 1—you’ll want to aim for an average PV of around 1,500. Normally, we encourage Recruits to shoot for 1,250, but since you’re all part of a bumper-crop Drive, we’ll be expecting a bit more from you, naturally.”

The teasing lilt in her tone earned a round of chuckles and a few confident shouts of “You got it!” from the audience. Professor Hirana nodded approvingly, smiling faintly. 

“I’ll hold you all to that.”

Then, with a small shift in posture and a spark of anticipation in her voice, she moved to the topic Thea had been quietly waiting for the entire time. She had to consciously stop herself from literally bouncing in her seat in anticipation. 

Much to her surprise, Lucas looked just as eager, his previous concentrated expression having immediately been replaced by visible interest as she sat up straighter—as if he really needed to tower over Thea any more than usual.

“Now,” the Professor began, “with our discussion of Maintenance, your Faction Trait—which will have an entire course of its own later this year covering more specific and nuanced examples of its uses and the Upgrades available for it upon Tier advancement—and your PV goals and standings out of the way, let’s move on to our final topic of the day. It’s one that always gets the most attention, which is exactly why I saved it for last—to make sure all of you stayed awake until now.”

That earned a few groans, but mostly laughter.

“Let’s talk about Classes in the Allbright System,” she said, her voice lifting slightly with enthusiasm. “They’re the foundation of your future progression beyond basic Levels once you reach Tier 1. I’ll only be giving you a primer today—there will be plenty of in-depth lessons on this later—but I think it’s important you understand what you’re actually working toward this year, and what kind of possibilities might be waiting for you when you finally get to the graduation ceremony and the following Class-selection period…”

—

By the time the next break rolled around, Thea was practically panting, barely able to contain her excitement about everything they had just learned about Classes. 

Her mind was spinning in every direction at once, so fast it made her feel light-headed.

“Hmm… I’m really hoping the future classes will give us more to go off of. This was a bit too broad to be useful,” Lucas muttered beside her—more to himself than to start a conversation, but Thea’s brain grabbed onto the words like a lifeline. 

Something to anchor on and focus her thoughts towards.

“She already gave us so much though!” she burst out, startling Lucas with the sheer enthusiasm—and the slightly too-loud volume that thankfully blended into the hall’s ambient chatter.

“She… she did?” Lucas asked.

“She did! There was so much in there, Lucas! I don’t even know where to start. Or how. I—I’m trying to think straight here, but it’s hard right now,” Thea admitted, forcing herself to take a few deep breaths to settle down.

She hadn’t been this excited to learn something in… honestly, maybe ever.

Lucas, patient as always, let her take her time. He shifted toward her a bit, giving her his full attention, clearly ready for the lengthy conversation he knew was coming.

And, mirroring their earlier conversation—where Lucas had enthusiastically broken down the vehicles for her—Thea tried to return the favor by breaking down the Class rundown for him. 

He clearly wasn’t seeing the sun for the stars and she felt obligated to try.

It wasn’t so she could voice her myriad thoughts into the ether, so her mind stopped spinning—definitely not.

“So… just from what she told us, I can already tell this whole Class-system is a lot like some of the games I played back on Lumiosia. In the arcade,” she began, watching Lucas’s eyes widen a little as he caught onto her meaning immediately.

“In particular, it mirrors a lot of what Ashes of Centuries did with perks and specializations, and also how Krillson’s Paths handled Classes—minus the parts that leaned more toward Psyker stuff, of course. And Invictus Fall? That one’s probably the closest to how the Allbright System seems to work with Classes overall. If you mix all three systems together, and maybe toss in a few ideas from other games like Onegate’s level-up rules, it’s extremely obvious Terra has been easing people into these concepts for ages!”

Lucas stared at her, blinking slowly before giving a very deliberate nod. “Right… very obvious… Mind explaining what that means for the rest of the Recruits in the room? Since they are clearly not as smart as the two of us and wouldn’t know what that all means…”

Thea didn’t have the mental room to get annoyed at the teasing and clowning tone in his voice; she was too busy trying not to explode from sheer excitement.

“It means the whole damn Class system is basically what I’ve been using my entire life to make builds, Lucas! This stuff is second nature to me!”

She slid her datapad closer to him, tapping and scribbling across the screen as fast as her hands could move, drawing lines of numbers and little arrows.

“Look—what the Professor said is that there are three main things to consider when choosing a Class, right?”

Lucas nodded.

“First, you’ve got the Base Growth Rate. That’s a flat bonus to certain Attributes every level. Think of it like extra Attribute Points you don’t get to choose—whatever Attributes the Class boosts, you will be getting boosts in them. Like, say a Class has a BGR of 4 split between Finesse and Resolve. That’s +10% in both every level, on top of whatever you invest normally.”

She marked the example in red on the datapad, labeling the Attributes to give him a clearer picture.

“So… we want the BGR of the Class we want to take, match what we’d naturally focus on already, right? Like Vitality and Strength for me?” Lucas asked, rubbing his chin as he studied the numbers.

“Yesn’t!” Thea said immediately, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm.

Lucas gave her the most unimpressed look she had ever seen on a human being.

“Because,” Thea went on quickly, “we still have the other two parts to factor in! The second one is the Variable Growth Rate. And like the name says, it works like the BGR—but instead of being tied to specific Attributes, it just hands you a chunk of points you can toss wherever you want.”

“That’s just straight-up better, then,” Lucas said.

“Yesn’t!”

“If you do that again, I’ll pick you up and put you on top of a tall cupboard in the dorms,” he said calmly.

Thea froze. “W—What?”

That was Lucas. Lucas threatening to stash her on high furniture like a toddler. 

Her height—an above-average blessing for an undercity girl, mind you—did not deserve this level of slander.

“T-That was a joke, right?”

Lucas just stared at her with a completely blank, serious face. 

To distract him from his brutally violent tendencies, Thea quickly elaborated on her earlier point.

“S… So, when it comes to choosing a Class, you don’t just look at one of the aspects. You have to find the one that gives you the best overall benefit for what you’re trying to do. Well… Saying that you just go for the overall benefits is also… That’s not entirely true—there can be specialist builds or very specific tactics that change things but—actually, never mind. I’ll just talk about the last point and then give an example,” she said, cutting herself off before she could drift into another full-blown rant. 

It was a bad habit, one she’d tried to kill for years, but the moment build-theory came up, it always clawed its way back.

“For the third aspect, we kinda need to wait until the break is over and the professor shows us the actual examples, but if they’re anything like Terra’s games, then this might end up being the most important part. It’s the Unique Ability Portfolio the Class gives you.”

Lucas nodded. “Yeah, I can see that being massive. Just seeing some of the Abilities out there during the Assessment and yesterday’s DM was… eye-opening. I really need to figure out what Abilities I’m actually aiming for before I even think about picking something...”

“Exactly!” she said, grinning and pointing both index fingers at him. Finally, he got it! 

“Especially since, like the professor said, the Class Ability Slots don’t interfere with the ones you already have. So if your whole build leans on something like Stamina, Focus, and Recovery, then picking a Class with a huge Unique Ability Portfolio—one that gives a bunch of extra Abilities—could be way more valuable than just raw Attribute bumps.”

Her voice kept climbing in speed and pitch, excitement bleeding through every word. “And! When we Tier-Up at the end of each bracket, we actually keep one of the Abilities and bring it into the next Tier! It just gets moved into our normal slots, exactly like the professor said! It’s literally just like in Krillson’s Path, Lucas! We can mix and match our own Class over time, across all the Tiers we’ll be hitting!”

Lucas raised both hands in a quiet “ease up” gesture, leaning closer so he wouldn’t have to speak loudly. “Thea. Breathe. People are starting to stare.”

She froze, then clamped her mouth shut and nodded way too fast, cheeks heating as she forced herself to sit back down properly, not knowing when she had even gotten on her feet. 

A few curious glances from nearby Recruits drifted away as she did so.

Once Thea seemed less likely to rocket out of her chair, Lucas lowered his hands again. 

“Alright,” he murmured, keeping his voice even as if any show of enthusiasm in the topic could set Thea off again—which, fair, “you said something earlier—about different build options. That you can’t just look at the three numbers and pick whatever is highest. That’s… not obvious to me at all.”

He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing in thought. “From where I’m sitting, it seems like you just pick the Class with the highest mix of Base Growth, Variable Growth, and an Ability Portfolio that seems good. Highest overall value wins, right?”

Thea shook her head vigorously, her excitement returning—but this time more contained. 

“No, no. That’s the trap, you see? It’s not about the absolute numbers. It’s about what you’re trying to do with your build. Your end-goal determines the value even at the start.”

Lucas frowned slightly. “Explain.”

Thea took a deep breath, then pushed back into the explanation from earlier. 

“So, when it comes to build theory, there’s this really common misunderstanding that you should focus on one of two things: Either you maximize for the short-term or you maximize for the long-term. Like… you either grab every early advantage you can so you can snowball hard, or you sacrifice your early power to get some huge payoff down the line.” 

Lucas stroked his chin, nodding along.

“But that’s factually wrong. You really don’t want either of those to be the foundation of your build,” Thea said, shaking her head so firmly it was almost aggressive. “What actually matters is having a clear goal—knowing exactly what you want your build to achieve—and focusing only on the pieces that help reach that goal. Nothing else.”

She pointed at the datapad, drawing a simple line under her next words. “Say your focus is T1 Battlefields. What’s the point of picking a so-called ‘long-term’ Class that gives tons of BGR, but completely tanks your VGR and Ability Portfolio? You’re never getting another Tier-Up within T1. Those sacrifices never turn into anything. But that’s obvious, right? So what if we just focus short-term, because we’re only getting one Class? Just take as much BGR and VGR as possible and call it a day? But then you’re missing out on any Unique Abilities forever. So short-term gain is not an option there either.”

She drew three examples neatly onto the datapad: T1 focus, T2 focus, and T3 focus.

“If you’re targeting T2 Battlefields, you get a little more room to play around, since you’ll switch Classes at the Tier-Up. The stuff you gave up in T1 might finally pay off. But even then, you might have been better off choosing a Class with a very strong Unique Ability Portfolio instead, since you’d get to carry one Ability into T2 and stack it with your new Class.”

On the T2 example, she added two diverging paths, each one ending in a question mark—unknown results waiting for the right combination.

“Finally, if you’re focusing on T3 Battlefields, the most obvious choice would be long-term gains in T1 and T2, with short-term benefits in T3. But that still doesn’t make much sense when you look at the bigger picture of progressing through each Tier. If you dump the first two Tiers just for long-term returns, what guarantees you’ll even reach the third? And what if there’s an incredible Unique Ability Portfolio in T1 and T2 that would pair perfectly with a Class you want at T3? You’d be throwing that away just because you picked the “low-hanging fruit” options that seem smart on the surface.”

Thea drew out all the corresponding decision lines and marked them with different colours as she continued to speak about the topic, drawing a rapidly growing, interconnected web onto the datapad.

It grew surprisingly quickly into something that was hard to even keep track of.

“So… in the end, what really matters is information. First and foremost. You want as much info on all the Classes, from all Tiers—their BGR, VGR, and UAP—as you can possibly get. Then you compare everything across all the Tiers, match it to what you want out of each Tier, and look at the whole plan from both a macro and micro perspective. Don’t sacrifice an entire Tier or you might get stuck there, but don’t blindly grab the biggest short-term perks either. Now, if the information is not available, you have to make balanced decisions in each Tier, instead. Choose UAP’s that seem broadly synergistic with a lot of potential options out there, while keeping your BGR and VGR varied enough to not tank anything.”

She finally stopped talking and took a much-needed breath, glancing back up at Lucas—only to find him staring with raised brows and wide eyes.

Heat crept up her neck as she winced. 

She had definitely overdone it.

But before she could mumble an apology, Lucas’ expression softened into deep thought… and then split into a broad, toothy grin.

“I’m so damn glad to have you as our Official Build Advisor, Thea,” he said with a chuckle, and her head snapped up. “You’re insanely good at this. I wouldn’t have thought of half of what you just explained—and I’m guessing that was just the easy, surface-level version, huh?”

Thea blinked, surprised he wasn’t teasing her for info-dumping like a maniac. 

But he wasn’t wrong about the surface-level part, so she quickly nodded, cheeks warm.

His grin broadened. “That’s awesome. You’re amazing, Thea. I’ll definitely be checking with you before I pick anything… I just feel bad for the rest of the Drive, that they won’t have you to consult on a regular basis.”

Lucas leaned back in his seat a little, still wearing that lopsided grin that made it hard to tell whether he was impressed or just amused. “Seriously, the rest of the Drive has no idea what they’re missing. If everyone got breakdowns like that? Half of them would probably break out in tears of joy.”

Thea let out a tiny, breathy laugh at that, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Maybe… maybe it wasn’t too much, then,” she muttered, more to herself than to him.

Lucas shrugged and chuckled. “It was good. Detailed, yeah, but very good to learn. Kind of a bit like I hope you did earlier with my whole vehicle talk, eh?”

That thought hit her harder than it should have.

Because… right.

That was exactly what Lucas had done earlier—gone off about treads, armor ratings, maintenance quirks, the whole nine yards. 

And she hadn’t felt overwhelmed or annoyed or anything even close to it. 

She’d actually liked hearing him talk about something he cared about. 

It had been very nice. Relaxing, even.

So maybe he felt the same way now.

Maybe most people weren’t silently judging her every time she got excited and went all-in on a topic.

Maybe they were just… learning from her.

Enjoying it, even.

She’d have to ask Corvus later—he was the social expert and he’d give her a direct answer, even if it stung—but the more she mulled it over, the more it just made sense. 

Lucas hadn’t overshared earlier. He’d just shared. 

And she hadn’t felt pressured or annoyed for even a second.

So why assume he felt any differently about her elaborating on something he had specifically asked for in the first place? How did that make any logical sense at all?

Finally, Lucas leaned forward again to study the chaotic tangle of lines Thea had drawn on the datapad, tilting his head here and there like the picture might suddenly make more sense from a variety of different angles.

“I still don’t think I really get it, you know? Like, intellectually I understand what you said, but I can’t put my finger on anything concrete yet… I might need a few more direct examples,” he admitted, fingers automatically drifting to his chin again as he mulled it over. “Hmm… Maybe we should ask the rest of Alpha to hit the arcade with you, and you can walk us through your thinking using one of those games you keep mentioning? Ashes of Centuries, Krillson’s Path—whichever fits best?”

Thea’s eyes went wide.

“That’s a great idea! We totally should!” she said at once, already making a mental note to bring it up with Corvus—and to ask him about that earlier thought too.

A strange, strangled squeal sounded from behind her and to the right. 

This time, after hearing a few similar noises during her whole rundown for Lucas, she finally turned to look. 

She caught only a flash of ebony-black hair ducking beneath a table.

‘Did they drop something…?’ she wondered, narrowing her eyes slightly. From this angle, lower in the hall than the other Recruit, she couldn’t even tell who it had been.

Before she could think on it further though, Professor Hirana’s voice pulled her attention back to the podium.

“Welcome back from break, everyone. I hope your discussions have been fruitful and you’ve had some time to digest what I’ve said about the Classes so far. Let’s get to the truly fun part and look at some examples of potential Classes you can expect to pick up toward the end of the year, shall we?”

The datascreen behind the professor split into two sections, each displaying the details of a Class. 

Thea’s eyes widened instantly, trying to absorb every word at once.

“For the first example,” Professor Hirana said, “we’ll start with what is considered among the most popular Class among UHF Marines. A classic all-rounder—excellent upward mobility into the higher Tiers thanks to solid foundations in BGR and VGR. The UAP is a bit lackluster in the higher Tiers, admittedly, but you really can’t go wrong with a strong baseline like this. At the very least, the Unique Ability will make it easier to get to those higher Tiers, hence the popularity of the Class.”

[Class Information]
Class Name: Frontliner
Rarity: Iron
Base Growth Rate: 4 - 2/1/1 - Strength/Finesse/Vitality
Variable Growth Rate: 2
Unique Ability Portfolio: 1
Unique Class Ability: (Passive) [Frontliner’s Luck]

[Passive (Iron - Class) - Frontliner’s Luck - Level 0]
Description: Automatically redirects a potentially devastating hit slightly to the side.
Devastating Hit Threshold: Lethal - Redirection Range: 5mm - Cooldown: 15 Minute(s)
Growth: Devastating Hit Threshold (Lethal -> Grievous -> Debilitating / 10 Level) - Redirection Range (+1mm/Level) - Cooldown (-30 seconds/Level)

“Now for the second one, I figured I’d show you something from the opposite end of the spectrum—more of an aspirational reward for some of you,” the professor continued, shifting everyone’s focus to the second Class on the screen. 

“This one is a rare pick, usually only within reach for Alpha or Beta Squad members, unless some of you really push yourselves. But who knows? Maybe seeing it here today will motivate you to work a little harder in the future DMs and Assessments, yes?”

[Class Information]
Class Name: Deadeye
Rarity: Gold
Base Growth Rate: 3 - 1/2 - Finesse/Perception
Variable Growth Rate: 2
Unique Ability Portfolio: 2
Unique Class Abilities: (Active) [Deadeye’s Lock-On], (Active) [Deadshot]

[Active (Gold - Class) - Deadeye’s Lock-On - Level 0]
Requirements: Line of Sight
Description: Allows the Deadeye to lock onto a target within line of sight after a short focus period. Once locked, the target appears outlined to the Deadeye, even through walls or other obstacles up to a certain Material-Tier. The outline lasts for the full remaining duration of the Ability, the maximum number of locked-on targets is exceeded or until the target dies, whichever comes first.

Cost: 50 Focus + 50 Stamina - Lock-On Timer: 15 seconds - Maximum Locked-On Targets: 1 - Material Tier Limit: 1 - Ability Duration: 5 minutes
Growth: Lock-On Timer (-0.5s / Level) - Maximum Locked-On Targets (+1 / 10 Level) - Material Tier Limit (+1 / 20 Level) - Ability Duration (+ 30 seconds / Level)

[Active (Gold - Class) - Deadshot - Level 0]
Requirements: Line of Effect, Deadeye’s Lock-On OR Equivalent Ability
Description: Allows the Deadeye to loose a perfectly accurate shot at a locked-on target within a set maximum distance. The shot will pierce through any obstacles in its path up to a certain Material-Tier without impediment, striking the target’s vital point with guaranteed precision.
Cost: 100 Focus + 100 Stamina - Distance: 3km - Material Tier Limit: 1 - Vital Point: Heart
Growth: Distance (+ 350m / Level) - Material Tier Limit (+1 / 20 Level) - Vital Point (Heart -> Brain -> Faction Trait, if applicable / 10 Level)

Thea’s breath caught as her eyes ran down the list of Abilities—real Abilities, not hypothetical examples or vague descriptions. 

Actual, concrete powers that a Tier 1 Marine could wield.

Her heart thudded harder the longer she stared.

‘This… This is a T1 baseline? This is what basic Classes can give you?!’

Her eyes traced every line of the Frontliner and Deadeye’s toolkits. 

Attribute boosts. A guaranteed survival against a lethal strike every few minutes. Target marking through walls and everything. A penetrative, vital-point strike that ignored practically everything between her and the target, regardless of weapon type; that, based on its wording, could even lengthen the normal shot distance of a weapon.

A strike that could even auto-target Faction Traits at max level?!

It was downright overwhelming.

Not frightening persay—but overwhelming in the way standing at the edge of a vast, new frontier was.

She swallowed hard.

‘If this is what even starting Tier 1 Classes looks like… What the fuck does the rest of the ladder look like? What about Tier 2? Tier 3? Higher…?’

An almost electric excitement crawled up her spine.

Lucas let out a quiet, impressed whistle beside her, but Thea barely heard it.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the screen, even as she furiously copied everything word-for-word and number-for-number onto her datapad…

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[Wolf Lord+ | Draft] Volume 2 - Chapter 63 - Tech Talk

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Welcome to the draft release of Volume 2 - Chapter 63 - Tech Talk for y'all.

As always, a quick reminder that this chapter is still in the process of being workshopped by me and that this is simply the first-draft.

And also: Please do not read the chapters here on Patreon, but go for the googledoc, .pdf or .epub instead. Patreon butchers all forms of formatting and you're missing out on easier and more enjoyable reading experiences.

------

By god, this one was tough to write.

I tried so hard to make it engaging, informative and still cover a lot of TIME, specifically. I hope I managed it... It ended up a bit longer than planned, but I couldn't figure out how to make it work any other way.

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I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is the link to the chapter:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1OLiw4yPAsjlf37pKWhP30J-ArsTcY5lJa-firBm_w-c/edit?usp=sharing

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Volume 2 - Chapter 63 - Tech Talk

“JOIN THE FRONTLINE BEHIND THE FRONTLINE”

Titan Forge Salvage & Recovery Needs YOU

Are you strong, steady on your feet, and ready to put your back into something that truly matters? Titan Forge Salvage & Recovery is expanding its workforce once again and is officially looking to hire more able-bodied workers—preferably with exo-suit or exo-loader experience, but not required!—to support ongoing reclamation efforts across the entire UHF space.

As every citizen knows, our brave UHF Marines, Navy, Armoured Division, and countless other branches fight day and night to protect our borders and push back the tyrannical Factions that threaten our way of life. 

But their victories come with a steep, steep cost—spent munitions, lost weapons and armour, damaged vehicles and hulls, wrecked local infrastructure, and, most importantly of all, truly valuable materials scattered across the burnt out husks of the battlefields they leave behind.

That’s where YOU come in.

Titan Forge S&R works hand-in-hand with the UHF to reclaim these valuable battlefield resources the moment the fighting ends, ensuring our Forces can continue to fight sustainably and strategically for dozens of years to come.

Every crate recovered, every armor plate hauled, every ship part salvaged keeps our military heroes running at maximum efficiency. Without us, there would be no “Miracle of Onlan”, no “Hold at Sina Prime”, no “Conquest of Falsien”, for there would be no resources to sustain these major defensive and offensive operations!

Now, be aware: This is not easy work—long shifts, harsh environments, and long months or even years away from home—but the reward is nothing short of life-changing. 

With hazard pay, supply-line bonuses, high-tier field stipends, and the super-rare chance of stumbling onto a legendary-grade find that could make you into planetary governor overnight wealth-wise, a single deployment has the potential to lift your entire family to Core-World living standards by the time you return.

What We’re Looking For:

• Strong physical condition (preferred, not required)

• Experience with exo-suits, exo-loaders, lift-frames, or heavy machinery (preferred, not required)

• Ability to work long, physical hours in high-stress or hazardous environments
  
  

• Willingness to relocate for upwards of six months, potentially for several years to forward headquarters to be closer to the action.
  
  

• A patriotic desire to support the men and women on the frontlines (preferred, not required—even non-patriotic salvage is good salvage!)

What You’ll Get:

• Great pay with full hazard compensation

• Housing and meals provided for all deployments

• Top-tier medical coverage through Titan Forge’s “Unified Wellness” Program, fully covering limb replacements, skin grafts and dental (Terms & Conditions apply)

• A sense of pride knowing you keep our Marines supplied, our fleets repaired, and our borders expanding

Stand with the UHF Military—by helping rebuild and reclaim what they have to burn down for all of our survival.

Apply today at your nearest Titan Forge Recruitment Office!

A message from: Titan Forge Salvage & Recovery — “One Faction’s trash…”

—

[UHF Galactic Bulletin – Sector-Wide Job Posting, Titan Forge Salvage & Recovery, PFC940]

======

======

Thea hadn’t been this blissfully content and excited in a long time—if ever.

She and Peria had spent the last two hours going over the design sheets—the original design sheets!—of the Gram, which the weapons clerk had somehow managed to secure just for this meeting.

‘Peria is the fucking best,’ Thea thought to herself once more as she marvelled at the lengthy and in-depth array of schematics in front of her.

Most of the first hour had gone into the Gram’s design history, and it had revealed far more about the weapon—and weapon design in general—than she had ever expected. 

One thing that had stood out especially, was just how many factors went into building a weapon intended for wide-spread distribution. 

Even though the Gram was a designated marksman rifle and not exactly a mass-appeal product—unlike something like the AR303 or similar—it was still designed as an “off-the-shelf” weapon, not a one-of-a-kind build made for a particular user or purpose in mind beyond “designated marksmen will use this weapon”.

Because of that, a lot of design choices had been made not to build the perfect weapon for someone like her, but instead to make something that could function adequately in as many situations people in her role could get into as possible, without sacrificing too much in either direction. 

It was obvious when stated plainly like this of course, but seeing the actual process—the compromises, the narrowed options, the common-denominator decisions—that the original designers at Starfire Armaments had followed, struck her harder than she expected.

‘But it also means that there’s quite a bit of leeway to really modify and customize the weapon to fit what I need better…’

This past hour of discussion had focused on the finalized aspects of the Gram and its more detailed parts—especially the Laser-variant. 

Peria had insisted they start with that one, since it was the most complicated option but also the one Thea had the most experience with—and Thea hadn’t found a reason to disagree. 

There wasn’t a single weapon she knew better than the Gram, except maybe the Caliburn itself—and not knowing every tiny detail of that one would have been beyond dangerous, given the Solarium core inside it, so she had spent countless hours reading through every page of the manual and studying the schematics to the best of her abilities.

Right now, they were studying the exact schematic of the lens setup and talking through how the weapon actually worked on a basic level. 

Thea had insisted they start from the ground up, since she didn’t actually really understand how everything functioned under the hood yet. 

The maintenance manuals and schematics that came with her license were helpful of course, but not nearly detailed enough for her to simply reverse-engineer how it all worked on a fundamental level—at least not yet.

‘Maybe once I get all the Skill Classes sorted out, I’ll be able to look at those full-license schematics and actually understand how things work just from that,’ she thought. ‘Right now however, I can only guess which part does what based on breaking everything down and putting it back together a hundred times… It’s mostly semi-educated guessing though, really.’

That lack of knowledge was being fixed fast by Peria’s energetic breakdowns.

“At a basic level, laser-type weapons across the galaxy aren’t actually laser-based—not primarily,” Peria explained. “Anyone with half an eye for detail could figure that out sooner or later. If these were true lasers, a mirror-polish or reflective armor would shut them down instantly—or worse, bounce the beam back into your own lines.”

Thea nodded at that. 

It really was obvious, and something she had figured out the first time she had tried laser weapons in Terra’s games.

“Instead, these so-called lasers are more like high-speed mini plasma-particle weapons that fire two separate shots almost at once,” Peria continued. “Here and here.”

She pointed at two sections of the lens array, the schematic hovering in 3D above the bench. With a swipe she stripped away surrounding components, leaving the arrays hanging like exposed nerves.

“Every shot starts with what’s called the priming-laser. It’s the only part that’s even somewhat close to a real laser. Its job is to ionize the air from barrel to target, creating a clean tunnel of a mostly homogenous medium for the second shot, also known as the payload. Then the second array sends a condensed beam of light carrying a tiny mass of particles through that tunnel and into the target.”

On the hologram, a slowed-down firing sequence played out, breaking everything into clear pieces of motion. 

Thea stared, utterly fascinated—she had never even realized the Gram fired in two stages.

“This payload is why the shots glow and leave streaks in the air—it’s effectively a form of plasma that's being dragged through the ionized pathway. It’s also why your typical laser-variants cap out at 0.88c for shot-speed. That’s the fastest the bundle of particles can travel through the tunnel medium without destabilizing and simply ripping apart.

“And it’s that mass behind the shot that lets these rifles punch clean through armor in the first place. A true laser would need constant burn-time on the same point to get through anything thicker than a single plate of durasteel, barring truly unfathomable levels of energy investment. Power means nothing without a mass to push.”

A lot of what the clerk was explaining about the weapon’s inner workings was already drifting past Thea’s actual understanding of the material in question.

‘I can kind of follow the general idea, but I don’t really get the deeper parts… That’s not great,’ she thought, her brows pulling tight.

Peria noticed immediately. “Oh—sorry. Too much?”

Thea shook her head quickly. “No, not too much. Just… I’m missing the basics to understand what all those details actually mean. I get what you’re saying on the surface, but I don’t have real knowledge in… physics?”

Peria nodded along, then tilted her head. “Well—physics and photonics.”

“Right. Those. I don’t have a deep knowledge on either of those yet, so I can’t extrapolate what that really means for the weapon as a whole and what aspects might be problematic or could become useful to me as a whole…” Thea admitted.

A sudden thought struck her and she grabbed her datapad, opening it while speaking out loud.

“Sovereign, could you let Peria see my Skill Classes on here? Just so she can help me figure out which Skills I should focus on, if I want to learn this stuff properly?”

Peria visibly flinched when Thea addressed the ship’s AI directly, though Thea couldn’t even wager a guess as to why.

The Sovereign answered right away as usual, its voice carrying from the air around them, “I can. However, some Skill’s details may need to be redacted. Peria Akin is not fully Integrated into the Allbright System, therefore certain information is restricted. None of your current Skill Classes fall into that category, but the clarification was deemed necessary.”

Thea’s eyebrows rose. 

She hadn’t even thought about that before but, of course Peria wasn’t Integrated. 

She looked at the clerk properly and the difference was blindingly obvious.

Far smaller than even Thea herself, less lean and definitely lacking that strange gravitas, which was hard to really quantify—she could feel the difference instinctually however, being this close to the other woman.

“How does that work, exactly? The whole not-being-Integrated thing, but still being allowed to know about the Allbright System and most of what goes on behind the scenes?” Thea asked, watching Peria accept her datapad and begin scrolling through the Skill Classes—broken down into sub-Skills and topics.

“It’s quite simple, really,” the clerk replied while reading. “We’re offered a series of increasingly restrictive NDAs. First with the company that wants to hire us, then the Faction we’ll be working with—in this case the UHF—then the specific branches, so the UHF Marine Corps and UHF Navy for me. And finally, once all NDAs are accepted, we sign a direct contract with the Allbright System itself. That one enforces its rules a lot more strictly than anything else can really, so it makes sense.”

“Y-You directly talked to the System?!” Thea blurted out.

Peria nodded casually, like it was no big deal.

“What was it like?! What did it sound like? Was there anything weird? How does something like that even happen?!” The questions spilled out of her before she could stop them.

The clerk chuckled softly, lifting her gaze from the datapad to meet Thea’s eyes—briefly flinching, but pushing through the unease. “Sorry. I’m not laughing at the questions—just your reaction. It’s kind of a mirror, in a way... But anyway: It was… normal, I guess? Which sounds strange when talking about the System, I know. But I was basically just shown a System Interface with all the NDA information, got a verbal rundown—which sounded like any other AI, really. Nothing special or dramatic. Just… Exactly what I thought something like the System would sound like, in a way? And once I agreed and signed, I officially became a System Liaison for the UHF MC and Navy, so I could work aboard ships like the Sovereign. And that’s how I ultimately ended up here.”

Peria’s answer left Thea a little deflated. 

Normal? A simple Interface, a read-through NDA, a voice no different from any other AI? 

She wasn’t sure what she had expected, really—something grand, ominous, reality-warping maybe. 

But still, nothing?

Peria went on, almost casually, “And I haven’t heard from the System ever since. Honestly? I’m kind of grateful for that. Knowing something like that is always watching over you is… uncomfortable. So the less contact I need to have with it, the better.”

Thea could understand the feeling, although she didn’t particularly share it beyond a very basic level of unease that came with the sheer scale of it all. 

But where Peria evidently felt unease, Thea mainly felt fascination. 

Whoever—or whatever—had built something like the Allbright System existed on a level she couldn’t even begin to comprehend. 

She wanted to learn how it worked, however, to understand it as deeply as she could.

And maybe one day, she would get to a point where she could.

Peria finished reading through the Skills. “Okay, for what you want to understand, you’re going to want to focus here. Physics, Photonics, Weaponsmithing and Laser-Weaponry Design—obviously. But add Material Science and Engineering too, if you really want to know what’s happening under the hood.”

She tapped each one on the display as she listed them, then paused.

“But you don’t need to master it all right away. I’m not an expert myself, really. I just have enough to work with—and so will you. Just… don’t expect full understanding overnight. This could take years. Several thousand hours to get everything listed in those Skill Classes under your belt, I’d imagine. But Marines live for a long time though, right? You’ll get there eventually."

Thea blinked at that. Years? All her Skill Classes only took a few weeks each in the DDS if she pushed—until the realization hit her.

‘Right… Peria probably doesn’t know about the Time Dilation part at all—’

She opened her mouth to explain, then shut it again just as quickly. 

‘—but if she doesn’t know, there’s definitely a reason for it.’

Better to double-check clearance before dropping something like that.

So she just smiled instead. “I’m a quick study. I’ll work hard.”

Peria returned the smile without hesitation. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”

She handed Thea’s datapad back and smoothly shifted gears. “Now… about the modifications you made to the laser-type Gram during the DM. Do you want to go over those too?”

“Yes!” Thea answered immediately…

—

—

PoV: Peria Akin

“—so if you’d kept the weapon running like that for maybe another twenty or thirty minutes, it probably would’ve blown up in your hands, Thea,” Peria finished.

The Marine’s eyes widened at that, clearly not expecting the weapon to be in such bad shape. But based on everything Peria had been able to simulate, her assumptions were about as accurate as they could get.

They had spent the last hour talking about the in-battle modifications Thea had made to her Gram, which were, honestly, surprisingly smart and effective given the situation. 

Still, modifications could only get someone so far.

“What you really need to watch out for in the future, if you ever end up in something like that again, is that it’s not just about cooling but also about material stresses involved—this is something the Material Science Skill Classes will go over, from what I saw on your list. That’s why I recommended it,” Peria explained.

“When you rapidly heat and cool materials like that, they naturally get more and more brittle. It’s still better than an immediate meltdown of course, but weapons like the Gram aren’t meant to be used in the way you did. They’re rated to handle those conditions, sure, but only for a short time—not extended periods of punishment like that.”

She pulled up the Gram’s schematics again, and this time opened a second set—one she had prepared ahead of time for this exact discussion. Jonas had recommended it, and Peria was very glad she’d spent several hours picking his brain last night.

Thea herself looked beyond pleased and intrigued with how things were going, which was a massive relief for her.

‘Making sure to earn my keep here. Keep it up, Peri. You’re doing great,’ she internally cheered herself on, as she deftly brought up both schematics in a reductive comparison.

She zoomed in on the internal reactor, then the wires, then the barrel, overlaying the two schematics so she could flip between them with a tap and show the changes directly.

“So, as you can see here,” Peria continued, highlighting the internal reactor, which looked clean and intact in the base model but showed thin web-like cracks across the surface in the simulated version of Thea’s weapon, “the casing is already starting to fracture. The coolant you pushed through worked, but it cooled too fast and too often, which stresses the housing as it’s not designed for that kind of rapid heating and cooling cycle.”

She switched to the wiring schematic. “And here, some of the power lines have already been damaged by the excessive temperature changes as well. The remaining ones had to handle the full load alone, which sped up the spread of the damage even more.”

Finally, she flicked back and forth between both barrel images—one straight and polished, the other visibly warped and half-melted. “This part concerns me the most. The barrel would have been the first thing to go, I think. If the structure drooped just a little more, a shot could have clipped the edge mid-fire. In the best case, the barrel would have blown back at you. Worst case… a plasma-particle destabilizes at 0.88c. That kind of detonation would send shrapnels around that would probably kill you and anyone standing within a couple meters.”

Peria kept a careful eye on the VIPs' facial expressions, which were thankfully very expressive, most of the time. It made it easy to guess how Thea felt about a particular topic, whether it was something she wanted Peria to dive into deeper or whether it was something she didn’t quite understand. 

Thea was a downright perfect customer in her opinion. 

Easy to deal with in more ways than one, friendly and willing to let credits do the talking where the corporation might otherwise throw wrenches into the path of enjoyment.

The girl took a moment to process everything, then let out a slow breath. 

“Okay… so what could I have done differently, then?” she asked, clearly hoping there was some smarter path she missed.

Peria opened her mouth, paused, then gave a small shrug. “Honestly? Not much. Given what you were trying to do in that situation, you made about the best choices you could have.”

She tapped the hologram gently with her pen.

“It really just comes down to the Gram not being designed to act like a machine gun. It can shoot a dozen times a second, yes… but it’s not meant to keep doing that. Quick bursts or occasional rapid shots? Sure. But the kind of continuous punishment you put it through was just beyond what it was built for.”

Thea listened closely, brow furrowed but clearly focused on every word she said.

“And capacitor-based laser rifles in general are weak to that kind of stress,” Peria continued. “They’re built around a fixed cooling capacity. Enough to handle the normal charge from the reactor and the heat from the capacitor mags—but only within those design limits. It makes them lighter, as capacitor-mags are lighter than coolant ones, and able to punch a bit higher above the coolant-based rifles in raw power output, but it also limits them in a way.” 

She rotated the schematic to highlight the coolant lines. “When you force the caps to dump charge faster than the weapon can cool, and then also pump in external coolant the rifle isn’t designed to properly circulate like it is for its own internal cooling solutions… Well, things start fracturing. Everywhere.”

She leaned back, gesturing with both hands.

“A coolant-based laser rifle would’ve handled this kind of usage better. They’re built to move external coolant efficiently, so even with capacitor-mags modded in, they wouldn’t tear themselves apart so easily. Not because they’re better, but because they’re designed for that kind of rapid heating and cooling cycle in mind.”

Thea nodded slowly—understanding dawning clear across her face. 

‘Good,’ she thought. ‘Breaking it down simple was the right call.’

Peria had been worried she might be losing her with all the tech talk, but the Marine kept up well—shockingly well, considering her age. 

She guessed the girl was maybe eighteen or nineteen years old. And with how stupidly monstrous she already was in combat, a plurality of those years were almost certainly spent in training camps, not classrooms.

Plus, she was supposedly from a mid-world undercity of all places.

Which, in Peria’s experience, usually meant she shouldn’t understand any of this.

So the fact Thea was following along at all felt downright incredible.

It made her chest warm with a strange mix of pride and disbelief.

“So considering everything you just said,” the Marine said. “I should just try my best to not get into a position like that with the Gram, and if I do get into a position like that again, keep a close eye on the barrel at the very least, so I don’t end up killing everyone in my pillbox from it blowing up.”

Peria blinked a few times at how casually the girl talked about dying from a catastrophic weapon failure, but she quickly nodded, “Pretty much, yeah. If you ever find yourself in that situation again, that’s probably the safest approach. Technically, the reactor’s another risk, but you can’t exactly check that in the middle of a fight, so think of it as the part that’ll fail second. And based on the simulations I ran for this, the barrel always gives out before the casing does, so keeping track of its condition should give you a decent idea of how long you can push things.”

She paused, raised a finger to put emphasis on her next words, before continuing. “Just remember—I’m not telling you to run your gun like this. This is emergency-only advice. Ideally, avoid that scenario entirely. Or bring a different weapon—or even another Gram variant—if you expect mass engagements like that.”

Peria shifted the holographic schematics, clearing space for the next display. “Which brings us to the next part, actually. You wanted to talk about the Ballistic and Gauss variants too, right?”

Thea nodded vigorously without hesitation, her self-illuminating eyes sparkling.

Peria couldn’t stop the small grin tugging at her mouth. 

‘Yeah,’ she thought as she leaned forward to queue the next schematic, ‘she really is the perfect customer...’

—

They spent another four hours talking through each variant, tossing around possible modifications to help Thea get exactly what she wanted out of them—like adding a grav-lockable bipod to the ballistic version to cancel recoil during stationary fire—alongside Peria answering what felt like a thousand different questions about how each model worked and why. 

Some were simple, like “How does it function at a base level?”, which forced Peria to break the concepts down into bite-sized explanations the young Marine could actually follow. 

Others were far more fun—her favourites by far—like “How would you build it differently if you were on the design team?”, which let her stretch out creatively and talk about the things she wished she could try. 

Then there were the heavier questions, like “What if I want traits from two variants at once—how do I choose, and what do I change?”, which took them nearly thirty minutes to work through.

And honestly… Peria had loved every damn second of it.

Her boosters had worn off two and a half hours ago, but she hadn’t even really noticed—not with the excitement of getting to talk design at this depth with someone who actually, genuinely cared and understood how awesome these things really were. 

The jitters were definitely creeping in by now however, but she pushed through them easily enough, especially as she and Thea were already making their way toward the back exit to part ways.

“Thank you so much for your time, Peria,” Thea said, dipping her head. 

The gesture, paired with the gratitude itself, sent a fresh rush of nerves and leftover booster-aftershocks straight through the clerk.

Peria let out a controlled, definitely-not-unhinged-please-don’t-think-I’m-unhinged laugh, steadying herself as best she could. “Nothing to thank me for, Thea. You paid for my prep time, and I’m glad the work helped. I really hope the consultation was worth it—but judging by your reaction, I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Absolutely! This was fucking awesome!” Thea said without hesitation.

She paused for half a heartbeat, then added—almost shyly—“Um… would you be open to more sessions like this? Maybe something regular? After I figure out my Skill Class schedule and when our mandatory courses start. I can pay for any time you need off, of course!”

Peria blinked once, then twice, trying to catch up with the sudden shift in Thea’s tone. 

A second ago, the girl had been gleaming with downright bloodthirsty interest over weapon variants, and now she stood there fidgeting like a brand-new intern, nervous but hopeful, like asking for another meeting might’ve been too bold. 

The contrast would have given anyone whiplash.

‘How does one person swing between a war monster during a DM, hyperfocused tech-nerd and tiny overwhelmed kitten so fast?’ Peria wondered, feeling a laugh bubble in her chest. ‘She really is so young… That’ll get hammered out of her before Private, I’m sure.’

She matched Thea’s enthusiasm with a warm smile. 

“I’d be happy to,” she answered simply. “Once you know your schedule—Skill sessions, classes, whatever else gets thrown your way—tell me and we’ll set up more.”

Thea’s eyes lit up like bright-blue stars.

Peria continued, offering what felt like a surprisingly overdue option. “And we don’t have to do everything on store time, necessarily. If it fits for you, we can meet after my store hours. You wouldn’t need to pay for those meetings then, obviously.”

The look Thea gave her in response was almost comical—like someone had just revealed air was free on most planets. 

Clearly, the idea hadn’t even existed in her brain until that moment.

“Oh! Right—yeah. That’d be… that’d be amazing, actually,” she said, smiling awkwardly. 

“Thank you, Peria.”

“Of course.” Peria nodded, genuinely pleased. “Just let me know.”

With one last grin from Thea, and a small wave from Peria, the two parted ways—agreement loose but clear. She waited until Thea fully disappeared down the corridor before she let herself feel the weight of the day.

Her breath left her in a single, long exhale. “Fuuuck—”

Her spine unstrung itself all at once, her limbs shaking with booster come-down and emotional exhaustion. 

She loved spending time with Thea—truly—but maintaining perfect professionalism for hours around the VIP of the Sovereign? 

That was its own damn battlefield. And she didn’t even get any armour to go with it. 

She walked quickly to the backrooms and towards the door connecting the clerk apartments with the back of the store, before she teleported straight to her apartment’s hallway, feet dragging, hands shaky enough she had to double up her grip on the bag she carried. 

She only made it two steps down her hall before she froze.

A package sat neatly in front of her door.

Addressed to her.

“Huh…?” she whispered, scooping it up with hands that trembled harder the closer she held it. The booster crash was hitting hard now—jittery fingers, fraying focus, thoughts skittering sideways.

Inside, she found a small note.

[In recognition of your exemplary work. - L]

“L…? Do I even know an L?” Peria muttered, brow furrowing. “L for Logistics? Lieutenant? Lindon? Lila? L—no, this is stupid.”

She carried it inside, closed the door behind her and opened the box carefully.

Inside was a single injector.

Not a cheap one. This thing was art. 

The metal casing gleamed with a smooth, dark finish and intricate, shimmering engravings that curled around the cylinder like vines in all colours of the rainbow. Even the cap looked handcrafted—expensive enough that she felt unworthy even holding it.

Her brain stopped working entirely for a moment.

Only when she lifted the small accompanying card did everything crack open.

[Memento Vitae — 5 Years]

Peria’s heart skipped, then stuttered, then raced so fast it hurt.

“No. No, no, no—this can’t—this isn’t—” she whispered, voice thinning to nothing. 

These injectors were legendary. Spoken of like myth in the midworlds. 

Nobody could possibly get their hands on these. 

Nobody even knew if they truly existed or not.

A simple clerk like her would never receive them.

Her knees buckled.

‘This is impossible. Why me? Who would—How?!’

Her vision blurred as she toppled sideways, the exhaustion, booster withdrawal and disbelief all crashing down on her and forcing her consciousness to fade, the package almost tumbling from her hand. 

She barely registered the soft landing under her cheek, only dimly aware of pillows cushioning her fall.

‘…When did I put those there?’ she thought groggily, one last flicker of confusion passing through her disintegrating consciousness.

She was grateful for them, as they had stopped her from cracking her head open on the stone floor of her apartment.

And then she slipped under—no resistance left—carried away into a deep, dreamless dark…

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[ND] Chapter 160 - Anima

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Chapter 155 - Unexpected Outcomes has just released on RR with no major changes.

For the Fixers, this chapter is new.

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Oh boy, here we go.

Sera showing off!

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I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is the link to the chapter:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/167OccPgkVLeMt2NHvXQeRJviSoT5pDYGbTfY5nLR7H8/edit?usp=sharing

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Chapter 160 - Anima

The imposed minute dragged like an hour—my idea, yet somehow I was the one suffering for it. Every second itched under my skin, nerves twisting tighter each time I glanced up and found both of them studying me in silence. 

I briefly considered flicking open the System Interface, burying myself in Perk menus just to escape the weight of their attention, but that felt wrong. 

I’d dropped danger into their laps and asked them to really think about whether they wanted to know more; the least I could do was sit with the discomfort instead of hiding behind flashing menus and glowing icons. 

So I focused on my breath instead. Slow and steady, forcing stillness into muscles that wanted nothing more than to fidget their way out of my body.

Mercifully however, the minute eventually passed. 

I exhaled and gestured for them to decide.

“Misha will not let Friend Ela deal with dangerous things alone,” Misha announced immediately, her head-tufts going ramrod straight. “Misha will stay and listen!”

Jade followed, slower but with surprising weight behind her words. “Jade will also listen, even if Ela says it’s dangerous… But Jade appreciates the choice—greatly.”

There was something fierce in her gaze when she said it—flinty and resolved in a way I hadn’t expected to see from her like this. 

While I hadn’t expected her to leave either, this was… different.

“So Jade will stay,” she continued, head tilting, mouth curving into the beginnings of a smirk, “and choose to potentially be in danger, if it means learning what kind of nonsense is going on with the blank named Ela in front of Jade.”

It blindsided me. 

Not the danger-acceptance part, but the soft jab buried in the middle of it. 

Misha reacted like Jade had fired a gun in the shop, her eyes widening, tuft-plumes stiff with alarm as she stared at Jade like she’d just insulted the Gryplik’s entire ancestry.

And I broke.

Laughter tore up through my chest, messy and helpless. 

Relief, nerves, Misha’s horrified confusion—it all hit at once. 

Jade just sat there with that smug little smile growing by the second, while Misha remained baffled, frozen in place like her brain needed a few extra moments to catch up.

By the time I got control back, my eyes were wet, my ribs ached, and I wiped my face with the back of my hand, breathing easier than I had all day.

“Thanks. Both of you. Truly,” I started, gathering my thoughts as best I could—surprisingly easy now after the outburst of relief from having the two decide that I was worth the trouble.

I still didn’t entirely trust Jade’s intentions on the matter, as she could just as likely be listening in to run straight to Vega, but something in the way her eyes had screamed of conviction when talking about the choice I had given her, made me feel more at ease than it probably should have.

But Intuition, strangely enough, was on my side for once.

Whether they meant it had been utterly duped by Jade or I was actually on the right track for once, however, was impossible to say.

“So… Here’s the full story, then: When Ela awakened from the incident that had almost ended Ela’s life, around two months back, Ela became aware of a different sort of… Energy, for lack of a better word.”

Both of them were watching me with rapt attention now, all prior jovialities forgotten; full focus mode.

“An energy that seems to be part of the very world we’re living in—some people even call it the World, with a capital W, although Ela is not sure what that is all about yet. That energy is colloquially called Anima, as far as Ela knows. It might be known as something else for different cultures than the one here in Delta, but Ela has not investigated enough to be able to tell one way or another. Either way, this Anima is the reason for just about everything strange that either Misha or Jade might have realized or suspected about Ela.”

Jade leaned back slightly, arms crossing as she frowned in thought. 

“So… if this Anima stuff is everywhere—this capital-W ‘World’ business—how has Jade never heard of it? Vega never mentioned anything like that. None of my sisters did either. One would think ‘all-encompassing cosmic energy’ would’ve come up at least once, at some point.”

I opened my mouth to answer, but Misha beat me to it.

“World,” she repeated softly, the word landing with unusual weight. 

Her eyes were unfocused, drifting somewhere far past the piles of merchandise around us. 

“Yes… Misha remembers hearing that. Not Anima. But World. Always capital W.”

Both Jade and I turned toward her as she continued, slowly piecing together a long-buried memory.

“When Misha was younger, before coming to Neo Avalis, before Delta…” she murmured, the cadence of her voice shifting into something almost reverent, “some of the Learned spoke of the World in their teachings. That the World is not only a place, but something that moves. Something that thinks. Something that even… interferes at times.”

Her tufts flicked with agitation as she tapped a finger rapidly against her chin.

“But Misha did not listen well,” she admitted, cheeks puffing in embarrassment. “Misha preferred to build things. To take things apart underneath the table. To see how the little pieces work.” She hunched slightly. “Perhaps Misha should have listened better... Maybe then Misha would understand more of what has been happening to Ela.”

She looked up again, wide ruby-bright eyes filled with concern and curiosity in equal measure.

“Not Anima,” she repeated, more firmly now. “But the World… yes. That, Misha remembers hearing about.”

That… was surprising, but also not surprising at the same time.

Gryplik had been the predominant species on the planet once upon a time, according to the wiki pages I’d sifted through in my past life. If anyone still had scraps of pre-Rapture knowledge about this capital-W World stuff, it made sense it would be them. 

And considering how hard they had supposedly fought during the Twilight Wars, despite their physical weakness… Things were starting to make a whole lot of sense, in a way.

Still. That I hadn’t connected those dots earlier felt like a pretty embarrassing oversight in hindsight—but what else was new, really?

‘I already know other species exist. Why wouldn’t they have completely different knowledge bases? Pull it together, Sera.’

After all, if the Gryplik had hints of this—then what about the Irush? The Olark? Anyone else? There could be thousands of puzzle pieces lying around the planet about this stuff, and I’d been cramming myself into one corporate-controlled city.

‘I really need to stretch my wings, talk to more people, get out of Delta—’ I cut the thought off with a grimace. ‘Right. After the fifty-seven things I’m already juggling. One crisis at a time, Sera. Take it slow or you’ll end up on some Ripper’s table again.’

I forced myself to refocus and met Jade’s stare.

“Ela understands,” I said. “Ela had the exact same reaction when Ela first learned about Anima. Even now, Ela barely has the beginnings of an education in it. But…” 

I took a slow breath, feeling both sets of eyes lock onto me, “Ela can show Jade and Misha proof. Real proof of its existence.”

Their reactions were instant—Jade leaning forward like a wolf scenting a challenge, Misha’s pupils going wide, tufts shooting up.

I stood from the makeshift seat and motioned for both of them to follow me toward the closest stretch of bare wall—grateful, for once, that Misha’s Emporium was large—and tall—enough to offer plenty of flat surfaces despite the chaos. 

“Jade might remember what’s about to happen, but probably hasn’t had the time to fully process it with everything else going on. For Misha, though… this will be new,” I warned, making sure I had their full attention. 

Their eyes tracked me as I started to casually jog straight toward the wall, which earned a startled squeak from Misha right before my feet hit the wall like they were magnetically drawn to them. 

It didn’t require any effort on my part to change my actual orientation—no elongated step, no strange muscle movement to have my feet and legs bend at weird angles to let me solidly touch the new “ground” that was the wall—as [Wall Runner] naturally activated. 

‘That feels a lot more fluid than it used to, doesn’t it…?’ I couldn’t help but think, remembering back to the last time I had consciously used the Perk. 

It had been a long time, no doubt, but I definitely remembered having to spend a bit more effort on my part to really “get” the effect and have it naturally continue from my normal movements.

Below me, Jade and Misha could only stare, wide-eyed, as I jogged up the wall like physics had politely taken a smoke break.

Misha’s ruby eyes sparkled up at me, head tilted so far back she nearly toppled over. 

“Ela is incredible…!” she breathed out, a wide, green-toothed grin stretching across her face.

Jade, meanwhile, had her arms crossed tight against her chest, eyebrows drawn low. “Fuck me… I—Jade knew that was weird and tried to figure it out. But Jade just assumed it was some top-shelf cybernetics or a hidden bionics package,” she muttered, squinting like she could brute-force the logic back into the scene. “Seeing it now though? That’s no augmentation tech Jade’s ever heard of; that’s for sure.”

Misha tilted her head, thoughtful in the way only a Gryplik could be I figured—half scholar, half gremlin—humming softly before speaking, “There do exist cybernetics and bionics capable of such things. But Misha can confirm Ela does not have them.” 

Her tufts twitched with emphasis as she continued, “It would have been very obvious during the Ripper’s treatment—far too few internal modifications for the technology to function. So unless Ela is filled with black-site experimental tech—which, if Ela is, please let Misha study it, Friend Ela! Misha promises to be very gentle while peeling off the skin!”

Jade shot her a thoroughly horrified look.

“—then whatever this Anima actually is, must be the culprit.” 

She nodded several times in quick succession, ruby eyes glinting like she had just uncovered a grand conspiracy, the kind of confidence only someone utterly certain of their own genius could pull off.

I quickly returned to the ground, feeling the pull on the strange inner reserve of energy that [Wall Runner] used to function, having been stretched by my demonstration, but not having been close to running out yet.

‘That is also an upgrade to before, isn’t it…? I wonder what determines all of this? Maybe Reflex for the gravity-switching stuff and Anima for the reserves…? I really wish I had some more time to properly create test cases and write down this information in a wiki page somewhere, damnit!’

Coming to a stop next to the two of them, I decided that this wasn’t quite conclusive enough—it wouldn’t be for me, at least.

“Ela has one more thing to show,” I said once I caught their eyes again. “But Ela needs Jade and Misha to check Ela’s hands first.”

I held them out.

Misha immediately latched onto one like a kid handed a new puzzle box—pressing, bending joints, poking tendons with scientific glee. 

Honestly, I shouldn’t have been surprised. It was Misha.

Jade, meanwhile, just stared at me, waiting for the rest of the instructions.

“Check for any bionic, cybernetic, or genetic enhancements,” I clarified. “Ela will show something… strange. If Jade and Misha confirm Ela’s hands are one-hundred-percent human beforehand, that’s irrefutable proof this comes from Anima. Not tech.”

She considered that for a beat before nodding. 

Then she got to work—careful visual scan first, eyes narrowed for seams or synth-skin imperfections. When she found none, her examination turned even more methodical. 

Fingertips traced along knuckles, feeling for plates or hidden seams. 

She tested joint flexibility, range of rotation, tension in my palms, methodically going through a sort of checklist.

Something she had likely been taught by Vega or her sisters, about figuring out if somebody’s physiology was potentially altered or not.

Meanwhile, Misha was studying my hands like they were a work of art, quietly muttering to herself in Gryplik about the tendon actuation and whether my hands were more flexible than a normal human’s my age, side-eyeing Jade every-so-often as if to compare—her guess was that yes, they were.

They took their sweet time with the inspection. 

A full minute of poking, bending, pressing along bone structure, and occasionally tugging at individual fingers like they were trying to detach them just to see what would happen. 

My hands had never felt so… scrutinized. Awkward didn’t even begin to cover it, but I grit my teeth and let them finish—this was the whole point, after all.

Eventually, both stepped back.

“Human,” Jade concluded, more reluctantly than she probably intended. “Just… better than I’ve seen with anyone our age. So… annoyingly human.”

Misha nodded rapidly, pupils blown wide with fascination. “Far more flexible than baseline human, yes. Strong tendon resilience. Very impressive. Misha approves greatly!”

I rubbed my hands together, more to shake off the lingering weirdness than anything else.

“Good. Now, Ela needs something durable to demonstrate the next part,” I said. “Preferably something Misha doesn’t mind getting destroyed.”

Misha vanished into the maze of merchandise with a determined trill immediately. 

Thirty seconds later, she returned lugging a scrap slab of durasteel about the size of my torso. Way more than I had been hoping for—definitely more than a casual demonstration needed—but this was Misha. 

If she was going to provide a prop, she was going to overdeliver, no doubt.

The plate clanged heavily as I set it upright, leaning it against the closest workbench. 

I stepped back, making sure there was a clear gap behind the strike zone. If this worked like I thought, I really didn’t want to put a hole through Misha’s table.

“Okay,” I said, glancing once at each of them. “Stand back.”

They did—Misha bouncing on her heels like she was about to witness fireworks, Jade crossing her arms but unable to hide the spark of curiosity snapping in her eyes.

I took one slow, deep breath, letting it sink deep and heavy into my lungs.

‘Time to show them what Anima can really do… and hopefully not make a complete ass of myself in the process.’

I let my thoughts drift back several weeks, to a certain evening in the back of Mr. Shori’s stall, when I had first consciously come into contact with Anima.

This time, it felt… cleaner. Easier. 

Like my body actually understood what I was asking of it instead of fighting me the whole way.

I let my fingers move, tracing invisible patterns in the air—those strange, jagged shapes that the technique had burned into my muscle memory. 

Sigils meant to coax Anima outward, meant to cut. 

The flow of energy surged almost immediately, quicker than I expected, threading through each tendon like live wire.

The cramps came a heartbeat later. 

Not quite as unbearable as back then, but still very much in the “this is extremely stupid and you’re definitely moving in a way that’s damaging something” category. 

Reflex made the movements precise anyway—every flick and curl of my fingers perfectly on point, even as the pain dug deeper.

Twenty seconds in, the pressure built—like holding a storm inside my palms.

Thirty seconds, and my hands trembled, muscles drawn tight as bowstrings.

That familiar tipping point finally hit—too much energy to keep caged.

I breathed out, focused everything forward, and gave the internal command:

‘[Anima Razor]’

—

—

PoV: Jade

When Ela had suddenly asked her to come to Misha’s Emporium that morning, Jade hadn’t really known what to expect.

The other girl owed her an explanation, yes, but Jade hadn’t intended on insisting to receive it right away. Ela had nearly died just a few days ago, to protect her, after all.

Something like that bought you a few weeks of recovery before anyone reasonable came knocking on your door to ask questions.

Now, however, the other girl wasn’t just completely and utterly fine, rather than the husk that Jade had expected to meet when she had shown up, but instead was thriving with a level of energy that was truly stupid to behold.

‘And she looks both even more solid and far more agile than ever before too… Is that how she does it? She just almost-dies and somehow comes out stronger as a result? How does that even make sense?’ 

But the strangest thing of all, was Ela’s insistence that all of the strangeness that was clearly some kind of black-site technology from a major corp, was some weird energy that permeated everything? 

Now that… That was a step too far.

Or so she had thought.

But Ela really did run up that wall, like she vaguely recalled from when the girl had saved her the first time around. But seeing it from a different angle and without fear, adrenaline and relief coursing through her every vein… That had definitely been anything but technology she was aware of.

Apparently, as the Gryplik had claimed, this was something that existed as tech, but not something Ela could have chipped—just like the speedware that Jade had seen first-hand with the Valir brat.

‘Also something she can’t possibly have chipped unless it’s black-site tech… But then again, I’ve already established as much.’

She had even told Vega about her thoughts on the matter, after that whole debacle, and he had agreed.

Not directly, but implicitly—just like Vega always did. He never said things outright when implication worked better, and Jade had learned to read that silence. 

He was just as convinced as she was that Ela was some sort of black-site project, a lab-grown asset or experiment that had gone horribly wrong—or terrifyingly right, depending on what the corpos behind her might’ve been aiming for.

So the whole “running up the wall like gravity was a polite suggestion” thing could, in theory, be explained with prototype black-site tech. 

That was the box Jade had tried to shove it into, even though it was a box with fraying edges and no bottom. A black-site human was already a safety red flag she wanted nothing to do with—but she was too deep to back out by now, attached by both circumstance and Vega’s interest alike.

And then Ela had done the most unnerving thing.

She’d offered her hands—openly, calmly—and told them both to check for alterations.

It was one of the first things Vega had drilled into the Gems: Learn to tell when a body was modified. Spot the synth-flesh seams, track joint tolerances, note unnatural smoothness in tendon glide. 

If someone had implants, you had to know—preferably before they used them on you. 

The inspection Jade had done was basically muscle memory; finger pressure, rotation test, skin elasticity, nail-bed responsiveness. Misha’s examination had been messier but no less thorough, her enthusiasm making up for technique.

And together, they’d found a grand total of fucking nothing.

Ela’s hands were completely natural—no alloy substructure, no carbon-fibre rebar, no micro-servo articulation. 

Just human flesh, bone and musculature.

Human—yet unnervingly limber, responsive, and strong in tiny fine-motor ways Jade would’ve sworn weren’t possible in this short amount of time without serious augmentation.

That was the part that left her quietly staring at Ela as she prepared the next part of her strange demonstrations.

Because Jade remembered the last time they’d gone out together and she’d had a close look at the other girl’s capabilities. 

To the gun shop, the incident with the Valir brat and his crew—Jade had been faster back then, barring the speedware moment. More limber and agile too.

She wasn’t imagining that. She knew it.

And now, only a couple weeks later—maybe even less—Ela had seemingly completely eclipsed her… Or been pretending to be far less than she was from the very get-go, which seemed utterly impossible.

‘How the fuck does someone improve like that?’ Jade thought, throat tight. ‘How do you go from normal to… this… without major alterations?’

All those thoughts and half-formed theories shattered the moment Ela started twisting her fingers through the air—slow, deliberate, and wrong. Not wrong like sloppy, but wrong in that nothing about a human hand should bend like that. 

Jade found herself frozen, eyes locked to the strange choreography, unsure whether she was more horrified or fascinated by whatever it was that she was seeing.

The other girl’s movements were incredibly precise, yet made no logical sense at all, her fingers clearly cramping and hurting under the strain—visible from the grimace on Ela’s face and the shallow breaths between clenched teeth every time her fingers moved in a way that clearly wasn’t meant to be done.

Pain, without hesitation. 

Intent, without doubt. 

She almost wanted to ask the other girl to stop out of concern, but then she felt something.

Something strange.

A buzz—not sound, not sight, but something like electricity across the skin, like static rolling through the room and pooling in Ela’s palms. 

It was faint, nothing she would’ve noticed if she hadn’t been watching like a hawk. 

Something was moving—gathering—pulled toward Ela as if the air itself obeyed her.

The strange current continued to gather more and more as Ela continued her strange hand motions, Jade trying to figure out if it was some sort of rogue’s cant, like Jade and the Gems used among themselves, but if it was some kind of cant, it was like nothing she had ever seen before.

None of the signs seemed to repeat, at least not in a way that she could tell, which would make language practically impossible. Nor were the signs easy enough to signal to be useful in any circumstance but a demonstration like this, making it completely useless for any real-world application.

No, this was clearly something else.

‘But what…? Is it an activation sequence for some other kind of implant?’

But Ela didn’t have any implants—both Misha and herself had already confirmed as such first-hand and also second-hand through watching the Ripper do his work.

Ela’s final gesture snapped the moment tight. 

She sucked in a shaky breath, shoulders tense—then the air screamed.

A high, razor-thin vibration tore through the workshop, sharp enough to feel behind the teeth and in every bone. 

Both Jade and Misha jerked in surprise as something—energy, force, whatever the fuck it was—shot out from Ela’s palms like compressed air given a blade’s edge.

Then, with a smooth, almost casual swipe of her hand, Ela dragged that invisible edge across the durasteel plate.

Silence dropped. The vibration died.

Ela staggered a step, sweat at her temple, breaths coming shallow.

“T… There,” she managed, voice strained but steady enough. “That should do it, yes?”

They just stared at Ela for a second, both of them clearly trying to process what they’d just seen. 

Then Misha’s head snapped toward the durasteel plate. 

Without a word, she rushed over and crouched down to inspect it like a priceless relic had just dropped from the heavens.

The plate hadn’t been dented. It hadn’t been scored or gashed or torn. 

It had been sliced—perfectly. 

A clean, surgical cut straight through durasteel, like someone had taken an industrial monowire and just… drawn a line.

Misha’s fingers traced along the freshly exposed edge, careful and reverent, her tufts trembling. “This… This is not possible. Durasteel does not cut like this. It shears… melts… warps. But this… This is perfect…”

She looked up at Ela, eyes huge, pupils blown wide. “Friend Ela did this? With only Ela’s hands? No tools? No blade?”

Ela opened my mouth to answer, but Jade beat her to it—her voice low, almost wary. “That wasn’t tech.” 

She wasn’t asking. She had decided. 

“Jade knows enough now to say that wasn’t tech. That wasn’t even close.”

Her gaze drifted from the bisected durasteel to Ela’s hands, then slowly up to her eyes. 

“That was… what Ela called Anima. Right?”

Ela simply nodded, running her hands through her black and cyan-coloured hair.

A heavy silence followed.

Then Misha snapped back into motion, standing so quickly she wobbled. 

“Jade is correct! This must be the Anima!” She pressed her palms together like she was praying, eyes practically sparkling. “Misha must relearn everything Misha thought Misha knew…”

Jade swallowed, tension rippling through every part of her body. 

“Okay,” she said quietly. “Jade believes it now. Or… Jade believes enough not to call utterly Ela insane anymore...”

She dragged a hand through her hair, breath uneven in her chest. “Holy shit.”

The dam behind her restraint cracked right there—no hesitation, no subtlety—just raw want.

“So…” she exhaled, her eyes flicking between Ela’s hands and the bisected plate as she couldn’t decide which of the two was more terrifying to behold, “when is Ela going to teach us how to use this Anima stuff? How to do that?”

Her hand shot out toward the ruined durasteel, still warm from the cut, and Misha held it up like a relic. The Gryplik’s eyes shimmered with unrestrained hunger, tufts standing tall, and she turned toward the girl like a starving scholar faced with the universe’s last library.

Misha didn’t even try to hide the interest.

Jade felt it too—that bone-deep, electric thrum of yearning. 

Because if this was real—if Ela could teach this—then Jade would never be the slow one in the Gems again.

Never be the liability in Vega’s shadow again.

Never be dead weight on a mission where one mistake could put her in a body bag.

Never have to rely on Ela to drag her out of death’s jaw once again, for what would be the third time in a row.

She could be more.

Just like Ela…

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[TAS] Volume 2 - Chapter 60 - System 102: Maintenance & Soul Transfer

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Volume 2 - Chapter 57 - Debrief has just released on RR with no changes.

For the Wolf Lords, this chapter has seen no changes.

And also: Please do not read the chapters here on Patreon, but go for the googledoc, .pdf or .epub instead. Patreon butchers all forms of formatting and you're missing out on easier and more enjoyable reading experiences.

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Welcome to System 102~!

Trying some hybrid showing/telling here to skip through some of the (otherwise) lengthy exposition.

There'll still be quite some exposition in this chapter and the next; just the nature of Academy Arcs, really, but it's hopefully not too grating!

Should only be 1 more lecture chapter in the System 102 series after this one.

------

I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is the link to the chapter:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1U61UXuEYcq20rTRdOB-9ggEwpTOR5tFrHWQVaEUkRt0/edit?usp=sharing

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Volume 2 - Chapter 60 - System 102: Maintenance & Soul Transfer

“Psykers did not begin with the Allbright System, nor will they end with it. 

“They are older than recorded history, older than our first colonies, older than even our earliest attempts to truly quantify the human mind in earnest. 

“But their independence from the System does not mean the System ignores them.

“The Psychic Attribute exists for a reason. And so do several functions, Titles, and hidden metrics within the System Interface that only Psykers ever see. Then there are several Abilities that are specifically designed to work with or counter Psykers—even Classes that specifically synergize well for the same tasks. Yet all these features, as remarkable as they are, never change the underlying truth: The System does not create nor exist for Psykers.

“It merely reacts to their existence.

“A person Awakens because their Attributes—while, yes, granted by the System—push their mind and biology past a threshold that our predecessors used to reach only through risk, trauma, or pure cosmic luck. 

“The System accelerates the inevitable; it does not inherently cause nor define it.

“This is why the PV—your Point Value—remains one of the System’s most controversial measurements. For all the versatility, raw force, and reality-bending potential that Psykers bring onto a battlefield, their PV barely reflects that truth.

“It is, frankly, the only area where humanity collectively believes the System shows a fundamental misunderstanding of the capabilities afforded.

“And we, as a Faction, are quite grateful for that.

“The Unified Human Federation is one of the few Factions that pours its heart, soul, and resources into nurturing Psykers—actively searching for and molding Marines that could fill this role from the very start. If the System ever accurately priced their power, as humanity understands it, our scant few advantages would erode into near nothingness overnight.

“Outside Integrated society, Psykers sit in a strange kind of middle ground: Feared, whispered about, sometimes praised, but always understood to be inherently real. They are treated almost like living myths—rarer than a million lucky coincidences, often exaggerated in rumor, but never dismissed as fabrications outright.

“They are one of the few pieces of the war that humanity does not need to lie about. No propaganda drapery, no data purges, no smokescreens necessary. 

“The Allbright System itself refuses to label them as System-born, and so humanity is free to acknowledge them and their capabilities openly.

“Some of the greatest Aces the UHF has ever produced were Psykers—heroes whose records the UHF can publish with barely any redaction at all. Their stories inspire hundreds of billions over the centuries.

“Their feats look like literal magic to the untrained eye—and even those that are trained, frankly—and unlike most of our operations, we don’t have to hide them.

“And in a war where every Faction is fighting for more than just territory or annihilation—where we’re fighting for the hearts and minds of our future brothers and sisters in arms—Psykers are our loudest, brightest message to the galaxy.

“They are living proof that humanity can do the impossible.

“They are our strongest blade—on the battlefield, and far, far beyond it.”

—

[Excerpt from “The Allbright System’s role in the Galactic War,” – Taran Eniv – PFC861]

======

======

“—something like the Sidoreno series, on the other hand, gives you way more cargo space and troop capacity, while also being far tougher against enemy fire. And all that for basically the same relative price once you adjust for the increased size. So… yeah. I’d practically always recommend one of those over the smaller, more ‘affordable’ variants, if someone can save up enough to get them. But I do get that that’s not always realistic,” Lucas finished, wrapping up his whole spiel on why patience paid off when buying vehicles.

Thea nodded along. 

She wasn’t exactly a vehicle person, but she understood the logic well enough—gear worked the same way in her experience. A high-end, purpose-built piece of equipment usually outperformed cheaper general-use stuff in the long run.

They’d drifted into this tangent during the first break of the System 102 lecture. 

Honestly, it felt nice. 

Talking to Lucas like this—about something he clearly loved—made him feel different from the normally quiet, more reserved Defensive Heavy she’d gotten used to. He only ever got this animated when vehicles were involved. 

Once he got going though, stopping him looked about as easy as stopping a freight train.

The topic had come up because she’d asked if he’d already made his list of Skill Classes for the month. She’d mentioned that Major Quinn had been willing to give Kara and herself extra Class Passes—and she was pretty sure Lucas would qualify too. 

Professor Hirana had gone over the basics of Skills earlier in the lecture, including how the System handled them and why some requirements still showed up as strings of question marks. 

To no big surprise Lucas already had a list, much like everyone else in Alpha Squad probably—he just couldn’t decide which (Driving)-related Skills to prioritize yet.

He wanted all of them, obviously, but choices had to be made. 

Even though there was a general-purpose (Driving) Skill he needed as a prerequisite, there were at least half a dozen specialized land-based vehicle driving Skills branching off from it.

‘Pretty different from my own experience with the Skill System so far, huh?’ Thea thought, turning the idea over in her head. ‘Outside of maybe some of the (Physics) and other science Skills, I haven’t really run into branching trees like that before… I wonder if some of my Skills have branches too at later stages. Like maybe (Sniping) splitting off into something else…? I might need more Skill Vouchers if that’s true.’

And just like that, the two of them had shifted fully into talking about the different (Driving) Skills—starting with something simple like (Driving – Personal Vehicles), moving up to (Driving – Squad Vehicles), and then all the way to (Driving – Platoon Vehicles) which was the Skill that included vehicles like the Sidoreno series Lucas had just finished extolling the virtues of.

There were even bigger vehicle ones than that, apparently. 

The largest Lucas had found so far was (Driving – Faction Vehicles), which he said almost certainly referred to Mobile Headquarters or similarly behemoth-sized machines.

Thea couldn’t say she knew anything about vehicles that size—she had never even heard of something like that before—but if Lucas said it existed, she trusted that he knew what he was talking about. He was, after all, the squad’s expert on anything with wheels, treads, or an engine, so there was no reason for her to doubt his words on the matter.

The whole day so far had been pretty enjoyable in Thea’s opinion, even with the presence of the less-than-ideal Masters brat lurking in the lecture hall.

It was nice getting time to talk with the others again—almost like the calmer moments back during the Assessment. Since it had concluded, everyone had been so busy catching up on everything they needed to do that she hadn’t really gotten much time to talk with anyone except Kara. 

The lectures and mandatory classes were, at the very least, a good chance to feel like more of a squad again, even if only for a few hours at a time before they all became busy again.

Much like their short break was already drawing to a close as well, when Professor Hirana returned to the podium and signaled for the Recruits to quiet down once more.

She glided back to the podium with her usual sharp steps—her long black coat swaying behind her like a curtain of ink. 

She was a middle-aged looking woman, with silver-streaked, ebony hair tied into a low knot that somehow never seemed to loosen, not even during the more animated parts of her lectures. 

As she spoke, her voice carried that soft, clipped tone that always managed to magically cut through any and all chatter without effort.

“Welcome back, Recruits,” she said, neatly silencing the conversation in the room. “Let us move on to our next topic: Maintenance and Deterioration under the Allbright System.”

A few groans immediately rose, only half-hearted, but Professor Hirana ignored them easily.

“As some of you may already know,” she continued, tapping her datapad once to pull up a floating schematic of a human body framed in blue light, “the Allbright System has been… lenient with you so far. Your bodies have been operating at enhanced levels without any associated Merit costs. I am here to inform you that this grace period is temporary.”

She raised two fingers.

“Exactly two months after your Integration date, the grace period ends. From that point forward, the System will begin deducting Merit on a weekly cycle to cover maintenance fees—essentially the cost of keeping your bodies functioning at the Attribute levels you possess.”

That earned her more than a few alarmed murmurs. 

A couple of Recruits cursed under their breath. 

Someone loudly whispered, “They’re charging us for existing?!”

Hirana didn’t even blink at that, her focused, green eyes darting to the Marine in question.

“Yes,” she answered simply. “The System’s support is not free. Higher Attributes mean a higher load on biological structure, neurological processes, and cellular integrity. The System supplements these. As such, it naturally expects repayment for those efforts.”

The murmuring grew louder. Thea noticed Lucas stiffen beside her, his brow furrowing like he was already recalculating his weekly Merit math.

Professor Hirana pressed on, unbothered.

“This is why the UHF mandates a minimum number of Digital Missions per week. Contrary to popular belief, this is not merely to ensure you can afford meals or occasional equipment, although that is, of course, part of it. But your Merit income must also cover these mandatory maintenance deductions, in addition to building a buffer for once you are deployed to actual real-world Battlefields, in order for your Faction Trait to function. If you do not complete enough DMs, your Merit will fall into a net-deficit every week. You can likely sustain this for a few months, just from the Assessment’s rewards, but if not…” She gave a pointed, razor-thin smile. “You will not enjoy the results.”

Someone in the front row raised a hand. “Professor—so the System can just take Merit whenever it wants?”

“Naturally. The System is effectively omnipotent, as far as we can tell. But: It only takes exactly what it says it will,” Hirana explained. “And it provides a full breakdown of the deduction if you bother to check your logs. This is not theft or anything of the sort. It is merely upkeep. A very literal Maintenance cost, to allow you to function at beyond superhuman levels. Without it, your bodies would collapse under the strain of your own Attributes.”

She let the words settle heavily over the crowd.

“So,” she concluded, tapping her datapad again to dissolve the projection, “complain if you must. Dislike it if you must. But accept it. Because there is no way around it. You receive. You pay. That is the exchange; nothing else to it.”

She explained that the weekly Maintenance cost was tied mainly to a Marine’s Point Value, but asked everyone to stop themselves from checking it right away—they would get to that later, once all the connected topics had been covered. 

There was more than one mechanic linked to PV in today’s lecture, she informed them.

‘Fuck,’ Thea thought immediately upon hearing that, stomach dropping. ‘I have the highest PV of anyone in the whole damn Faction at my own level, according to the “Without Equal” Accomplishment… If the pre-Assessment numbers weren’t lying, my weekly bill is going to be insane. And there’s even more tied to it, too? Please let there be some way to lower that thing… My Merit economy is going to fucking implode otherwise…!’

Professor Hirana, naturally, had no time to spare for Thea’s silent panic. 

She moved right along into the consequences of failing to pay upkeep.

“Now, the System is not unreasonable,” she said, leaning forward slightly. “If you cannot pay your weekly cost, it will grant you a one-month exemption. During that time you must gather both, all of the missed Merit and the following week’s Merit. Should you fail to do so, you will enter what is commonly referred to as a state of Deterioration.”

A wave of uneasy whispers rippled across the hall. 

Thea heard several nervous curses echoing her own thoughts. 

None of this sounded particularly pleasant.

“Deterioration,” Hirana continued, “is the symptom of the System clawing back some of the energy invested into your body. You will diminish. Your muscles will weaken. If your Vitality enhancements had halted your aging, that will resume. Your mental and physical faculties will return toward a more human baseline over the span of a month.”

She lifted a single finger, making sure every Recruit was paying attention.

“However, note this clearly: The System enacts these changes gradually. There have been zero confirmed cases of death caused by biological failure during Deterioration. And if you consider the logic, it is quite obvious why: Any previously Integrated individual is a potential future Participant. Should they return, the System benefits. Allowing them to die would be a net loss of energy—and the Allbright System is many, many things, but wasteful is not one of them.”

The Professor went on to give a rough rundown of how Deterioration usually progressed, stressing that it was essentially the System pulling back the energy it had once invested into a Marine. 

The Attributes someone had invested into the most would lose the most, as was logical.

The System generally left an ex-Participant at anywhere between one-third to one-tenth of their former capability, depending on how much total investment the System had put into them in the first place. 

The more the System had poured into an Attribute, the higher the final percentage loss thereof after Deterioration. The final numbers one would be left over with, would be based on the final deteriorated values or baseline human capabilities—whichever number was higher.

To make it clearer, she gave a concrete example: A Prime T1 Marine with their main Attributes in the low-20s and their lesser Attributes around five or six. 

After Deterioration, their primary Attributes would land somewhere around a two-point-five, while the rest would settle closer to one-point-five.

“Wouldn’t that mean we’d still be superhuman even after going through Deterioration?” one Recruit asked once the example wrapped up.

Professor Hirana nodded. “Yes, that would be an accurate description. Once you are Integrated, you will almost always stay at the peak of human capability, even if you stop participating in the System’s competition—”

Thea barely heard the rest. 

Her mind had slipped away from the lecture as a different thought clawed its way to the front.

‘If the System does this whole Deterioration thing once someone basically retires from conflict… then the Old Man would’ve been in that state too, right?’ The idea twisted strangely in her chest, a kind of mental dissonance she couldn’t shake. 

Even with every miracle-like thing she had seen the Allbright System do—everything it had done to her—she couldn’t make everything fit together. ‘But… he was stronger back then than Isabella is right now… How is that possible if he was already fully deteriorated by then?’

She was sure of it. 

Even if it had been years since she’d last seen him, even if she’d been a lot younger and more naive about the realities of the universe, she remembered him hefting wrecked old-tech trucks like they were nothing. 

Just casually lifting them during their routine expeditions into the undercity’s ruins.

Even Isabella—Isabella, who could punch straight through rockcrete walls if she felt like it by now—would have to plant her feet and put her full weight behind something like that, maybe even require a helping hand or two.

‘So how…?’

How could someone supposedly drained back to near-baseline still do that?

The hairs on her arms prickled at the thought.

‘I… I don’t actually know what Tier he was, do I…? Or even what rank. Now that I think about it, he never did talk about how far up the ladder he’d gone... I just always assumed he’d been a regular grunt because of how hard he always went after the brass, but… if his deteriorated Strength was higher than Isabella’s is now, then his fully maintained Strength would’ve had to be over 100—maybe even 150…’

Her eyes widened as the numbers lined up in her head. 

It wasn’t her math that was off. 

It was her quiet, unspoken assumptions—assumptions she now realized had never been grounded in anything but her own expectations.

‘For Attributes like that, he had to be way above Tier 1. Even Tier 3 wouldn’t cut it for that… Just who the fuck was the Old Man before he retired?!’

A cold shiver ran down her spine, equal parts shock and curiosity, and she made a mental note right then and there: Next time they talked, she was going to pry the damn answers to all of those questions out of him—no matter how long it took.

Ship-duty month couldn’t come fast enough. 

She managed to pull her attention back to the Professor’s voice after a few moments, letting the unsettling thought drift to the back of her mind for now—there was nothing she could really do about it anyway—just as Professor Hirana began moving into the next topic. 

“Now, as promised, there is another mechanic we’re going to explore today, which is directly influenced by your PV. A mechanic that is, quite literally, the most important thing in each of your lives going forward, as long as you are UHF Marines: Our Faction Trait,” she announced, right as the datascreen behind her shifted to display, in bold letters:

SOUL TRANSFER

A brief wave of murmurs rolled through the hall, and Thea couldn’t fault anyone for it. 

Even Lucas, who had pretty much remained stoically silent throughout the entire lecture, let out an involuntary hum at the mention of their Faction Trait. 

It was the very reason other Factions called them “undead,” and the reason they were all sitting here now—instead of having been reduced to dust by the sweeping laser the UHF had originally used to force the Integration on everyone below.

Without access to this Trait, any death would be final, same as it was for everyone else.

Thea leaned forward in her seat, focusing all her attention on the Professor. 

The rest of the hall seemed to do the same, the room settling into a tense, absolute silence for the first time since the lecture had begun.

A sly smile tugged at the Professor’s mouth as she looked over the silent hall.

“I’m glad you understand the weight of what comes next. Good… Very good.”

She eased the class into the core misunderstandings first. 

Some points she spoke plainly, others she merely summarized for brevity.

“First: It’s called Soul Transfer, not ‘Respawn Me.’ People joke about it, but the distinction matters. As you climb the Tiers, you’ll learn this Trait is far more than a simple ‘come back to life’ button. Treat it with the respect and reverence it deserves.”

She moved on, tapping her stylus against the podium.

“Second: The cost paid in Merit is required instantly—the moment the Trait is supposed to activate. There is no grace period, no borrowing, no hoping the System is feeling merciful that day. If you don’t have enough Merit on the spot, the Trait simply won’t trigger and you will stay dead—forever.”

A ripple of discomfort passed through the room. 

She let it settle before continuing.

“And third: Any death outside the DDS applies a permanent stacking penalty to all future uses. I cannot stress this enough—every death stays with you. For your entire lives. Some Marines forget that and burn through their Trait uses early on, thinking they’re untouchable. They are not. Most of them, unfortunately, learn this the hard way.”

She paused long enough for a few throats to swallow.

Then the datascreen behind her shifted to a clean bell-curve graph, as she recapped the framework behind the Trait’s cost.

“The cost of Soul Transfer scales off three main factors: Your PV, the distance to the nearest Respawn Chamber, and the total number of deaths you’ve already accumulated in your career.”

She tapped at the curve on the datascreen with her, now extended, stylus.

“The distance modifier is the tricky one. It doesn’t follow a simple linear pattern. On ground-based battlefields, yes—the further you are from the nearest Chamber, the higher the cost, more or less, but things are more complicated than a simple “every km is an extra percentage of cost”. There are several “zones” that are considered the same cost around a Marine’s body, and price increases are based on those zones. Some zones are small, others are large. It’s almost impossible to get an exact, accurate measure for it on the ground—only the local command will have the exact numbers available.”

She flicked to a new slide showing vast space between ships and stations.

“Now space complicates everything even further. Distances out there are huge, as you know. If the System applied normal increases using the same logic as on the ground, you’d Zero-out before your first respawn. So it compensates. In space, the ‘distance cost’ is heavily compressed, while zone sizes generally stay the same.”

Thea continued listening as the Professor pushed deeper into the nuance.

“However—and this is where I usually lose quite a few Marines—this compression does not apply inside the ships. Respawning within a ship defaults back to ground rules, but only if Respawn Chambers are still intact and cheaper to use than space-rules would be. That’s why you will sometimes end up with odd situations where respawning three decks up on the same vessel costs nearly the same as respawning hundreds of kilometers away on a neighbouring ship. And if those Chambers are destroyed… then you don’t respawn five decks up. You respawn on a completely different ship instead.”

Thea was already scribbling down notes, copying the rough shape of the bell-curve onto her datapad as fast as she could. 

She kept one ear tuned to the Professor, though half her mind groaned at how absurdly complicated the System insisted on being with all this.

‘Great. So you don’t even get exact numbers—just rough ideas,’ she thought, feeling a headache start to form. ‘Guess we’re meant to just… hope it’s affordable when we need it.’

She wasn’t the only one frustrated; the tense quiet had shifted into restless murmurs and annoyed whispers spreading through the lecture hall.

The Professor lifted one hand, palm open, signaling for silence. 

Once the room had finally calmed again, she continued speaking—more gently this time.

“I understand this is vague and not exactly comforting. So, after the lecture, I will provide the full zone-coefficients, distance multipliers and bell-curve references. You’ll be able to review all of them at your own pace and start learning about them on your time.”

She tapped the datascreen behind her, and new graphs briefly flickered into view.

“More importantly, however,” she continued, “is that when you’re deployed, Command will always ask for your current Merit status before you’re allowed anywhere near the frontline. They will track each of your profiles and make sure you aren’t sent into zones where the nearest zone would put you outside your safe-respawn range. That is their job. Just like it is your job to fight—so they can handle the numbers in the backline without getting their asses blown up.”

The sudden shift into blunt language snapped a ripple of surprised chuckles through the hall. 

Even Lucas and Thea couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“Every Battlefield will come with a minimum requirement for frontline deployment,” Professor Hirana went on. “That requirement is roughly three times your System-stated Faction Trait cost. If you don’t have enough Merit to meet that threshold, you won’t be deployed to the front. You’ll be shifted into logistics or other backline work until you earn enough Merit to be considered fit-for-duty again. Rest assured—the UHF cares a great deal about your survival as individual Marines.”

A sly grin crossed her face.

“After all, we’ve invested quite a lot of resources into each and every one of you. We expect a solid return on that investment. Throwing you straight into a meat grinder doesn’t exactly make for great dividends.”

More chuckles rippled across the hall, but she pressed on quickly.

“Now, let’s get more specific about both Maintenance and the Faction Trait. As I said earlier, both are directly tied to your Point Value—the PV the System assigns you based on your overall combat potential. Whether or not that PV is an accurate measure of your worth is a discussion for another day. What matters here is that the PV determines both of these costs directly.”

She tapped the datascreen behind her. “Your weekly Maintenance fee is equal to two-point-five percent of your PV, rounded down to the nearest whole Merit point. Meanwhile, your Faction Trait cost is equal to a whopping ten percent of your PV, also rounded down.”

Then she raised a finger.

“However. Deaths matter, as mentioned earlier. The distance modifier as well, but we already covered it, so let’s focus on the deaths. On top of that baseline ten percent, you add an extra two percent for every prior use of the Trait. And after all base and distance multipliers are applied, there is a final additional five percent increase for each prior death.”

The datascreen shifted to display the exact formula:

Maintenance: 2.5% of PV per week

Soul Transfer: (10% of PV (+2% per prior use) × ∆d [Distance Modifier]) × (1 + 5% per prior use)

A few seconds later, Professor Hirana clapped sharply, making half the hall jump—most of them were too busy scribbling numbers to notice her building up to it.

“Now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for: Your personal costs. You may now check your System Interface for your PV. However, it might be easier to open your [Ongoing Costs] tab, which will show both your current Maintenance fee—calculated every System tick, so around a thousand times per second—and your baseline Faction Trait cost all in one view.

“I recommend checking your PV first, so you actually understand where the numbers come from… But, really, I’m not here to babysit you.”

With that, she shrugged, sat down in the singular armchair on the podium, crossed one leg over the other, and adopted a relaxed posture.

“You have ten minutes. Copy whatever information you want from the datascreen—yes, I said that you’ll get all of it sent to your Interfaces after the lecture, but some of you insist on taking notes anyway, so who am I to say no to that? And check your personal information as instructed. Then we’ll continue.”

Thea met Lucas’ eyes, the Defensive Heavy flinching just a little at the contact, before both of them gave a small nod—as if to say, “Let’s do it.”

They had talked about their Point Values earlier that morning, an idle topic that had come up naturally before they’d even entered the lecture hall. 

Both had been curious how their PVs had shifted since the Assessment. 

According to Lucas, nobody besides Corvus had bothered checking theirs since then—not out of secrecy, but simply because nobody had seen a reason to yet. 

Too much had been happening.

Thea hadn’t been able to confirm whether Kara had checked hers either, so the two of them had been wondering if maybe they should ask Corvus to turn it into a little squad moment. A repeat of their pre-Assessment “tradition”—a shared check-in on progress, something to mark how far they’d come.

But the lecture had made all of that potential scheming pointless now. 

There was no reason to wait anymore, not when the information had suddenly become relevant in a very practical way. The brief chance for a fun squad moment had slipped through their fingers, but there was no helping that now—it wouldn’t be the last time they would get around to comparing their progress.

At the very least, doing it right before the next Assessment felt as good a moment as any to get the whole squad together again and compare how far they had come from one Assessment to the next.

With that in mind, Thea opened her System Interface and navigated to the menu in question.

First, she pulled up the [System Prowess Evaluation] Interface—

“Fuck,” she blurted before she could stop herself, earning a slightly startled side-eye from Lucas.

She waved him off. “Nothing. Don’t worry…” Then another thought hit her. “We’re keeping it a secret until we can bring it up with Corvus, right? We can still do the whole squad-wide reveal thing. Just because we know our own PVs doesn’t mean everyone else needs to know right away.”

Lucas considered it for all of a heartbeat before a wide grin stretched across his face. 

“Sounds like a plan.”

Thea nodded and focused on the shimmering blue window floating in front of her.

‘This is going to absolutely wreck my Merit economy… Over the full year, this’ll chew through several Digital Missions worth of rewards, just from the damn Maintenance alone—not even counting any purchases or whatever…’

[System Prowess Evaluation]
Point Value: 1,773

With a heavy sigh, she opened the [Ongoing Costs] Interface next.

[Ongoing Costs]
Weekly Maintenance Fee: 44 System Merit
Base Faction Trait Cost: 177 System Merit

‘This is ridiculous… I’m basically dying once a month just in raw Merit costs for the Maintenance,’ Thea thought to herself. ‘Is this what paying rent is like…? The Old Man was always complaining about it… I think I finally get it now.’

She added a mental note to check with Professor Hirana once the lecture ended, to see if there was any way—any at all—to lower her own PV…

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[ND] Chapter 159 - First Truths

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Chapter 154 - Rank 7 has just released on RR with no major changes.

For the Fixers, this chapter has seen no changes.

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For the chapter: There's a cliff at the end, hence "First" Truths, not "All" Truths. Most of the conversation will happen next chapter, not this one.

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I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is the link to the chapter:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1h5FVsb2sGJWFPlZzhrwlYB2EnVixD6AAn3MFWoUTq8c/edit?usp=sharing

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Chapter 159 - First Truths

It took my brain a few slow, grinding seconds before the words actually clicked into place. Not that their meaning was made apparent to me, but at least I had understood the words that were spoken.

“Ela’s blood…?” I echoed, hoping I’d misheard or at least get some extra context from her.

Misha nodded with grave severity, “Ela’s blood, which Misha had collected, has disappeared.”

I blinked once.

Then twice.

“And Misha was collecting my blood because…?” I tried again, hoping maybe she’d give a different answer this time—something more complete to make sense of what it is that she was talking about.

My blood disappearing, of course, was not what I was struggling with—that was part of [Lightfoot] and something I had ended up having to deal with quite a few times already.

It was the idea that Misha hadn’t simply asked about why it had disappeared, but rather claimed that she had collected it and then it had disappeared, that was confusing me.

“Because it was there!” Misha flailed both arms, all three elbow-joints bending at equally distressed angles. “Misha could either collect it, filter it, and make emergency blood packs and injectors for Ela’s future injuries, or wash it down the drain! There was much of it, so Misha decided it would be a waste to let it simply disappear.”

I stared at her. She stared anxiously back, her tufts twitching.

Then she continued, seemingly desperate to explain her side of the story.

“After the Ripper was done, Misha gathered all the blood and put it through filtration. Misha intended to return it as emergency stock for Ela later. But when Misha checked again, several hours after Ela left… all of it was gone.”

Misha sagged like a deflated balloon.

“Misha checked everything, Misha swears! Cameras, sensors, motion-detectors—nothing. No entry. No system override. No trace. It is a great mystery… one of dangerous significance.”

She straightened suddenly, eyes sharp and narrow, all traces of playfulness gone.

“So Misha must ask Ela—and Ela must think carefully: Does Ela have a significant enemy? One capable of such a thing? One that would want Ela’s blood for nefarious purposes, that would be aware of Ela’s injuries and subsequent Ripper-visit here at Misha’s Emporium?”

Now everything finally slotted into place.

“Ahh… yes, about that…” I said, rubbing my arm as I tried to line up the words in my head. “It’s actually part of what Ela came to talk to Misha and Jade about, really.”

Misha’s ruby eyes widened. “So there is dangers!”

I immediately held up both hands, palms out like I was approaching a skittish animal.

“No, no! Misha, it’s okay! There’s a very good—well, maybe not good but reasonable—explanation for all of it, Ela promises. But Ela would like to wait for Jade first, yes? So Ela doesn’t have to explain twice, if that is okay with Misha?”

She rocked her head from side to side, the Gryplik equivalent of deep contemplation, before finally nodding once. “Acceptable. But if Misha is unhappy with the explanation, Misha will ask Ela for more information afterward! Ela will not leave the Emporium without giving Misha satisfactory answers.”

That one I could absolutely agree with.

The whole reason I’d come here today was to keep the few actual relationships I had from spontaneously combusting under the stress of everything else happening in my life.

“Agreed,” I said with a nod. “Ela will stay until Misha is satisfied.”

That earned me a massive, green-toothed smile—warm and utterly unguarded. 

Then she started inching closer… and closer… and closer.

I blinked, utterly lost for a moment, until I realized what the darting glances at my arms and chest were about.

She wanted a hug but didn’t want to ask.

A small, instinctive smile pulled at my lips. I opened my arms wide in invitation.

“Misha deserves a hug after satisfying a customer and panicking over Ela’s missing blood,” I said. “And for being put through stress because Ela didn’t explain the weirdness around her sooner. A hug is the least Ela can offer.”

Misha didn’t walk into the hug—she launched.

Practically cannonballed into me from a meter away, slamming into my torso with enough enthusiasm to make me stumble back half a step. Long limbs wrapped around me like living rope as she nuzzled her cheek against mine, trilling softly. 

Her tufts brushed against my skin, smelling faintly of clean fur, machine oil, and that indescribable warmth that was just… Misha.

I held her carefully, letting the sheer absurd tenderness of the moment settle over me, a strangely grounding counterpoint to the utter chaos that had consumed my life recently.

I sank into the warmth of the moment, thoughts drifting as Misha kept nuzzling and trilling against me like some oversized cat-owl hybrid that had imprinted on my soul. 

‘I still need to find somebody who actually knows more about Gryplik—both the people and the language… I don’t want to keep too much hidden from Misha for much longer, but I can’t risk myself, or her, by making dumb mistakes born from impatience,’ I thought, letting my cheek rest lightly against her soft feather-tufts.

‘Maybe I can add that to the list of knowledge shards Valeria should look for…? It wouldn’t be weird to ask for more info on a species I interact with semi-regularly in some regard. And she almost definitely knows by now that some of my gear is Gryplik-made; she’s too detail-obsessed to miss it after hauling my stuff over earlier.’

Then again… she had been dead tired. 

She’d missed a few things I had expected her to catch. Or maybe she hadn’t missed a thing and was just saving it for later. Hard to tell with Valeria. 

Hard to tell anything with Valeria for anyone, really.

Or at least I couldn’t. 

Not yet.

The two of us stayed like that for a solid ten minutes, Misha snuggled against me as though the universe had granted her unlimited cuddle permissions. 

I didn’t mind. Not even a little. 

It was one of the very few physical contacts I’d had in… decades, honestly, counting my past life—one that wasn’t accidental or unwanted or… horrifying. 

And it felt fucking amazing.

Her soft trills and those deep, vibrating rumbles settled through my ribs and up my spine, sending pleasant little shivers down my arms. It was like a gentle massage mixed with ASMR, if either of those came wrapped in feathers and pure affection.

By the end of those ten minutes, though, I felt Misha’s hands start to wander in a way that was… different. 

Still gentle, still very Misha, but definitely venturing into territory that was not normal.

“Misha?” I asked carefully. I didn’t want to break the hug, not yet, but I also wanted to know why she was suddenly treating me like a very squishy puzzle box.

“Shh… Misha is testing,” she whispered, completely unbothered by my confusion.

So I just… let her. Trusted her. 

Let the Gryplik do whatever bizarre full-body diagnostic she seemed to be running.

Her many-fingered hands moved with surprising precision—prodding along my spine, skimming over my ribs, squeezing my hips, patting my butt, and even sliding down my thighs. It felt weirdly intimate without being sexual, like being handled by an overenthusiastic doctor who didn’t quite grasp personal-space laws. 

Uncomfortable, sure, but it was Misha. And Misha wouldn’t do anything without a reason.

Then she froze.

Completely.

Her hands stilled mid-touch, her body went rigid, and a second later she abruptly pulled back from the hug, eyes wide, unblinking, and shining like polished rubies.

“What happened to Ela…?” she breathed, barely above a whisper—like talking too loudly might make me shatter.

I blinked, thrown for a moment, then sighed because apparently this was becoming the theme of the day.

“Ela will explain—alongside the other things, like the blood,” I said tiredly. “Ela would just really prefer to only explain this once.”

But Misha wasn’t having it, not this time.

She shook her head so hard her tufts fluttered like she was trying to take flight. “No, no! Ela needs to explain to Misha now. This is not normal! What has Ela done to make this happen to Ela?! Ela is supposed to be Misha’s friend for a long time! Ela is not allowed to experiment and ruin Ela’s body!”

Her voice cracked at the end—part outrage, part fear, part something painfully protective—and I suddenly felt like the worst friend in the galaxy.

Misha’s rising panic hit harder than I’d expected, and for a second I just stood there, arms still half-raised, brain lagging behind the situation. 

Her grip on my shoulders was firm—borderline frantic—and those ruby eyes of hers were blown wide, bouncing over every inch of me like she was trying to memorize a before-and-after comparison that only she could see.

Guilt twisted low in my stomach.

I gently eased my hands onto her forearms, not pulling away but grounding her. “Misha… breathe. Please.”

She did—not calmly, but she did—her throat rumbling with that anxious trill she only ever made when something truly rattled her.

I swallowed once, realizing that if I dragged this out any longer, she might actually implode from sheer concern alone. Jade wasn’t here yet, but… Misha deserved something. 

Enough to stop her from spiraling. Enough to show I wasn’t brushing her fears off.

“Okay,” I said softly, letting my voice settle into something calm, steady. “Ela will explain… now. Not everything, but enough for Misha to understand that Ela is not hurting herself. Not experimenting. Not ruining anything.”

That earned me a fraction of relief—her shoulders dropped maybe half an inch, but her eyes stayed locked on mine, waiting.

So I pulled in a slow breath and continued.

“Ela’s body changed because of something called Anima. Not because Ela forced anything,” I said, choosing my words carefully, like navigating a minefield made of Gryplik-level emotional stakes. 

“Sprites—Anima spirits, as they’re called—did work on Ela’s body. Ela will try to explain what they are, but Ela isn’t too sure of that either… But, thing is, Ela didn’t exactly ask for it. Didn’t even know it was happening to this degree. But it’s done now, and… Ela is okay. Better than okay.”

Misha’s frills twitched, her brows knitting in that painfully earnest way of hers. “Sprites worked on Ela without permission…?”

“Yeah,” I admitted, wincing. “Kinda like that.”

A low, resonant growl rumbled through her chest—not anger at me, but something protectively indignant on my behalf. 

Very Gryplik. Very Misha.

“But,” I added quickly before she declared war on incorporeal forces, “Ela is safe. Truly. Ela checked with an expert on the matter and they said the Sprites were all done with their work and there were no real downsides. So… Ela is not in danger from what was done. It just made Ela’s body… stronger and faster. More efficient, in a way. Nothing broken. Nothing hurting. Just an upgrade.”

Misha stared at me for a long, tense stretch.

Then she reached down with both hands and squished my cheeks together, pulling my face up to her height.

“Ela must never scare Misha like this again,” she declared, voice trembling. “Misha’s heart cannot take it.”

Despite everything, a tiny laugh slipped out of me—muffled through my squished cheeks, but real.

“Ela will try,” I said once she finally let go. “Ela really will try.”

That seemed to soothe something deep inside her. 

Her tufts settled, her face smoothed down, and she let out a slow, relieved trill as she pulled me back into a gentler, more normal Misha-hug this time.

We stayed like that for another quiet minute, until the sound of a familiar voice wafted into the backroom from the reception area, “Misha? It’s Jade! Is Ela here already? Jade was waiting for her in front of the store, but it’s already past the time…”

I was surprised at myself for how excited I felt in hearing the other girl’s voice again, after what felt like a damn eternity.

Before Misha could answer, I figured that simply replying myself would get the point across faster, “Ela is here, yes! In the backroom, come on in.” 

Misha seemed fine with me taking the lead on this as it allowed her to nuzzle for a few more seconds, before she broke away from me—clearly not wanting to showcase her weakness in front of Jade.

Jade stepped through the doorway a moment later, her eyes landing on me first—and softening in that very Jade way where she pretended they hadn’t. 

Her posture eased, shoulders dropping just a hair, like she’d been holding tension she didn’t want to admit to. I felt a spark of warmth flare in my chest at the sight.

“Hey,” she said, voice casual but not actually casual.

“Hey,” I replied, a small grin tugging at my mouth.

She reached out and squeezed my shoulder—light, careful, like she wasn’t sure how fragile I still was—which was probably fair, since the last time she saw me I had been half a second from death. 

I leaned into it just enough to tell her I wasn’t made of glass anymore. 

She caught that and nodded, a ghost of something glad flickering across her face.

Behind us, Misha perked up with a trill of greetings, her ruby eyes brightening as she said, “It is good to see Jade again under better circumstances than last time’s.”

“Good to see Misha too,” Jade replied in that slightly awkward way where she was fighting her own brain to not include things such as “you”, “I” and the like, that would hurt the poor Gryplik’s brain. “And same. Definitely prefer it this way, that’s for sure.”

After their brief introductions, the two of them turned toward me in unison. 

It was clear, from the expectation in their expressions, that the baton was in my hands now. 

This was my meeting, my explanation, my mess to unravel.

I cleared my throat. “Before Ela starts—Can Misha close up the shop for a bit? Just to make sure no one wanders in. What Ela needs to talk about shouldn’t be overheard.”

Misha straightened immediately, all business. “Acceptable. Misha will secure the Emporium.”

She vanished through the front doors with surprising speed for a creature her size. 

Jade watched her go, then turned back to me with that same unreadable-but-soft look she always got when she was worried but doing her best not to show it.

“You look better,” she said quietly. “Like nothing ever happened, really. It’s impressive…”

“I’ll explain. Long story,” I muttered. “We’ll get there.”

Misha returned less than a minute later, dusting her hands dramatically. “Emporium secure. No customers will interrupt Friend Ela’s important revelations.”

She waited expectantly—so I gestured around at the piles of reinforced cases, stacked crates, and random fabric bundles scattered everywhere. 

“Alright. Let’s all sit down. Doesn’t have to be fancy—just comfortable.”

Misha immediately began rearranging her surroundings with the natural grace of someone who had spent years navigating their own chaos. 

She shoved aside a stack of armored cases, flipped two others on their sides to create makeshift stools, and tossed a thick cloth over a pile of sealed bags to make something resembling a cushioned seat. 

It wasn’t glamorous, but it was surprisingly comfortable—and very on-brand for Misha’s Emporium.

I took the cloth-covered seat. 

Jade settled next to me on a case that still had hazard stickers on it. 

Misha perched on her own improvised throne, towering over us both but radiating a focused seriousness I didn’t see often in her—if ever.

Taking a few deep breaths to settle myself, I felt nowhere near as confident as I had on the elevator ride up. 

Whatever script I’d tried to draft in my head had already dissolved into static. 

Hard to prep for a talk when I still didn’t know what the average person in this world knew, what counted as normal, what was taboo, or how Jade’s loyalties actually tilted when the pressure was on.

But this wasn’t something I could keep dodging. And I didn’t want to anymore either, not really.

“Alright, so… Ela will start off by saying that this strangeness regarding Ela’s body has been going on for a while now,” I began, easing myself into the words as if testing the water. “There was an accident, around a month, maybe two, ago, that nearly killed Ela. Even more than the recent one where both of you got Ela out safely.”

Misha gasped. 

Jade just stared at me with this look that said “Yeah, that sounds like your life,” and honestly? Rude. 

Completely uncalled for. 

It wasn’t like I went out of my way to get almost-murdered on a weekly basis. 

It just… kind of had a habit of happening around me recently.

I powered through the sheer and utter disrespect. “Since then, things have been… different for Ela. Things have progressed slowly. Some changes have been noticeable to others, like Jade. Other things were more subtle but became obvious when observed up close, such as Misha’s realization about Ela’s blood.”

Jade flicked a confused look between the two of us—clearly she’d missed the whole blood-disappearing subplot. 

That would be fun to explain later.

“So,” I continued, letting myself drop into serious-mode and tapping just enough of my Edge to steady my voice into something cold and controlled, “Ela wants to be perfectly clear that this is not something that can, or should, be shared with anyone else.”

Both of them stilled as they heard the level of seriousness in my voice.

“Ela has been made aware—by people far, far more informed on this entire mess—that even possessing knowledge about the topic can be grounds for… severe repercussions.” I held their gazes, making sure they understood this wasn’t melodrama. “Ela means kidnapping, torture, and even death. This is not hyperbole. It is an active, very real threat, and Ela does not want either Jade nor Misha walking into this blind.”

Jade swallowed hard. Misha’s tufts puffed in alarm, like she’d just been hit with a static charge.

“Ela will answer questions as best as Ela can,” I finished quietly, holding their eyes one at a time, “but understand the level of danger you’re accepting by even listening. Ela will grant a few minutes of thinking time; use it. Ela will not accept immediate answers.”

They both drew breath to protest—Jade with that stubborn tilt of her chin, Misha with a quiet, rising-pitched trill that usually meant she was about to fling herself into something headfirst, usually straight at me—but the moment they caught the expression on my face, everything died on impact.

Silence settled over the backroom like a heavy blanket.

I wasn’t joking. I wasn’t exaggerating. And I was making damn sure they both saw that.

I did not want either of them stumbling into this because they felt they had to prove something to me, or to themselves, or to whatever idea of friendship they thought we had. 

This wasn’t a cute little shared secret. This wasn’t low-stakes gossip. 

This was the kind of knowledge that, according to every single person in my life who actually knew what they were talking about—Mr. Shori to some degree, Miss K, Valeria—could get people erased.

Anima wasn’t some half-forgotten rumor or hobbyist niche. 

It was a landmine with a handwritten sign taped over it that said “DON’T DEAD OPEN INSIDE” in increasingly frantic handwriting.

If they listened to my explanation now—if they crossed this line—there was no going back. 

They’d be carrying that danger for the rest of their lives, no matter how careful they thought they were. 

No matter how careful I tried to be.

So I watched them think.

Jade stared down at the floor, jaw tight. 

Misha sat perfectly still, hands folded in her lap—far too still for the energetic Gryplik—her tufts flicking every few seconds as if adjusting for invisible crosswinds.

I didn’t think either of them would choose to walk away; that wasn’t who they were. 

But I still needed them to choose it—not get dragged along by momentum. 

Not jump just because they cared about me.

This had to be intentional and carefully considered.

Chosen with both eyes open.

So I waited, breathing slow and controlled, letting them have the silence and the space to actually think, even though my own nerves were scraping against my ribs like broken glass the entire time…

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[Fixer+ | Draft] Chapter 159 - First Truths

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Welcome to the draft release of Chapter 159 for y'all.

As always, a quick reminder that this chapter is still in the process of being workshopped by me and that this is simply the first-draft.

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It's been quite a while since we've had a Fixer release.

I apologise for that, but things have been super stressful IRL with the whole insomnia-breakdown I had last month.

Been trying to get up on the horse again, so focusing on TAS unfortunately comes first in that regard.

But making progress, so here's to hoping that I'll be getting some advance chapters for ND in the near future as well, again.

For the chapter: There's a cliff at the end, hence "First" Truths, not "All" Truths. Most of the conversation will happen next chapter, not this one.

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I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is the link to the chapter:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1h5FVsb2sGJWFPlZzhrwlYB2EnVixD6AAn3MFWoUTq8c/edit?usp=sharing

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Chapter 159 - First Truths

It took my brain a few slow, grinding seconds before the words actually clicked into place. Not that their meaning was made apparent to me, but at least I had understood the words that were spoken.

“Ela’s blood…?” I echoed, hoping I’d misheard or at least get some extra context from her.

Misha nodded with grave severity, “Ela’s blood, which Misha had collected, has disappeared.”

I blinked once.

Then twice.

“And Misha was collecting my blood because…?” I tried again, hoping maybe she’d give a different answer this time—something more complete to make sense of what it is that she was talking about.

My blood disappearing, of course, was not what I was struggling with—that was part of [Lightfoot] and something I had ended up having to deal with quite a few times already.

It was the idea that Misha hadn’t simply asked about why it had disappeared, but rather claimed that she had collected it and then it had disappeared, that was confusing me.

“Because it was there!” Misha flailed both arms, all three elbow-joints bending at equally distressed angles. “Misha could either collect it, filter it, and make emergency blood packs and injectors for Ela’s future injuries, or wash it down the drain! There was much of it, so Misha decided it would be a waste to let it simply disappear.”

I stared at her. She stared anxiously back, her tufts twitching.

Then she continued, seemingly desperate to explain her side of the story.

“After the Ripper was done, Misha gathered all the blood and put it through filtration. Misha intended to return it as emergency stock for Ela later. But when Misha checked again, several hours after Ela left… all of it was gone.”

Misha sagged like a deflated balloon.

“Misha checked everything, Misha swears! Cameras, sensors, motion-detectors—nothing. No entry. No system override. No trace. It is a great mystery… one of dangerous significance.”

She straightened suddenly, eyes sharp and narrow, all traces of playfulness gone.

“So Misha must ask Ela—and Ela must think carefully: Does Ela have a significant enemy? One capable of such a thing? One that would want Ela’s blood for nefarious purposes, that would be aware of Ela’s injuries and subsequent Ripper-visit here at Misha’s Emporium?”

Now everything finally slotted into place.

“Ahh… yes, about that…” I said, rubbing my arm as I tried to line up the words in my head. “It’s actually part of what Ela came to talk to Misha and Jade about, really.”

Misha’s ruby eyes widened. “So there is dangers!”

I immediately held up both hands, palms out like I was approaching a skittish animal.

“No, no! Misha, it’s okay! There’s a very good—well, maybe not good but reasonable—explanation for all of it, Ela promises. But Ela would like to wait for Jade first, yes? So Ela doesn’t have to explain twice, if that is okay with Misha?”

She rocked her head from side to side, the Gryplik equivalent of deep contemplation, before finally nodding once. “Acceptable. But if Misha is unhappy with the explanation, Misha will ask Ela for more information afterward! Ela will not leave the Emporium without giving Misha satisfactory answers.”

That one I could absolutely agree with.

The whole reason I’d come here today was to keep the few actual relationships I had from spontaneously combusting under the stress of everything else happening in my life.

“Agreed,” I said with a nod. “Ela will stay until Misha is satisfied.”

That earned me a massive, green-toothed smile—warm and utterly unguarded. 

Then she started inching closer… and closer… and closer.

I blinked, utterly lost for a moment, until I realized what the darting glances at my arms and chest were about.

She wanted a hug but didn’t want to ask.

A small, instinctive smile pulled at my lips. I opened my arms wide in invitation.

“Misha deserves a hug after satisfying a customer and panicking over Ela’s missing blood,” I said. “And for being put through stress because Ela didn’t explain the weirdness around her sooner. A hug is the least Ela can offer.”

Misha didn’t walk into the hug—she launched.

Practically cannonballed into me from a meter away, slamming into my torso with enough enthusiasm to make me stumble back half a step. Long limbs wrapped around me like living rope as she nuzzled her cheek against mine, trilling softly. 

Her tufts brushed against my skin, smelling faintly of clean fur, machine oil, and that indescribable warmth that was just… Misha.

I held her carefully, letting the sheer absurd tenderness of the moment settle over me, a strangely grounding counterpoint to the utter chaos that had consumed my life recently.

I sank into the warmth of the moment, thoughts drifting as Misha kept nuzzling and trilling against me like some oversized cat-owl hybrid that had imprinted on my soul. 

‘I still need to find somebody who actually knows more about Gryplik—both the people and the language… I don’t want to keep too much hidden from Misha for much longer, but I can’t risk myself, or her, by making dumb mistakes born from impatience,’ I thought, letting my cheek rest lightly against her soft feather-tufts.

‘Maybe I can add that to the list of knowledge shards Valeria should look for…? It wouldn’t be weird to ask for more info on a species I interact with semi-regularly in some regard. And she almost definitely knows by now that some of my gear is Gryplik-made; she’s too detail-obsessed to miss it after hauling my stuff over earlier.’

Then again… she had been dead tired. 

She’d missed a few things I had expected her to catch. Or maybe she hadn’t missed a thing and was just saving it for later. Hard to tell with Valeria. 

Hard to tell anything with Valeria for anyone, really.

Or at least I couldn’t. 

Not yet.

The two of us stayed like that for a solid ten minutes, Misha snuggled against me as though the universe had granted her unlimited cuddle permissions. 

I didn’t mind. Not even a little. 

It was one of the very few physical contacts I’d had in… decades, honestly, counting my past life—one that wasn’t accidental or unwanted or… horrifying. 

And it felt fucking amazing.

Her soft trills and those deep, vibrating rumbles settled through my ribs and up my spine, sending pleasant little shivers down my arms. It was like a gentle massage mixed with ASMR, if either of those came wrapped in feathers and pure affection.

By the end of those ten minutes, though, I felt Misha’s hands start to wander in a way that was… different. 

Still gentle, still very Misha, but definitely venturing into territory that was not normal.

“Misha?” I asked carefully. I didn’t want to break the hug, not yet, but I also wanted to know why she was suddenly treating me like a very squishy puzzle box.

“Shh… Misha is testing,” she whispered, completely unbothered by my confusion.

So I just… let her. Trusted her. 

Let the Gryplik do whatever bizarre full-body diagnostic she seemed to be running.

Her many-fingered hands moved with surprising precision—prodding along my spine, skimming over my ribs, squeezing my hips, patting my butt, and even sliding down my thighs. It felt weirdly intimate without being sexual, like being handled by an overenthusiastic doctor who didn’t quite grasp personal-space laws. 

Uncomfortable, sure, but it was Misha. And Misha wouldn’t do anything without a reason.

Then she froze.

Completely.

Her hands stilled mid-touch, her body went rigid, and a second later she abruptly pulled back from the hug, eyes wide, unblinking, and shining like polished rubies.

“What happened to Ela…?” she breathed, barely above a whisper—like talking too loudly might make me shatter.

I blinked, thrown for a moment, then sighed because apparently this was becoming the theme of the day.

“Ela will explain—alongside the other things, like the blood,” I said tiredly. “Ela would just really prefer to only explain this once.”

But Misha wasn’t having it, not this time.

She shook her head so hard her tufts fluttered like she was trying to take flight. “No, no! Ela needs to explain to Misha now. This is not normal! What has Ela done to make this happen to Ela?! Ela is supposed to be Misha’s friend for a long time! Ela is not allowed to experiment and ruin Ela’s body!”

Her voice cracked at the end—part outrage, part fear, part something painfully protective—and I suddenly felt like the worst friend in the galaxy.

Misha’s rising panic hit harder than I’d expected, and for a second I just stood there, arms still half-raised, brain lagging behind the situation. 

Her grip on my shoulders was firm—borderline frantic—and those ruby eyes of hers were blown wide, bouncing over every inch of me like she was trying to memorize a before-and-after comparison that only she could see.

Guilt twisted low in my stomach.

I gently eased my hands onto her forearms, not pulling away but grounding her. “Misha… breathe. Please.”

She did—not calmly, but she did—her throat rumbling with that anxious trill she only ever made when something truly rattled her.

I swallowed once, realizing that if I dragged this out any longer, she might actually implode from sheer concern alone. Jade wasn’t here yet, but… Misha deserved something. 

Enough to stop her from spiraling. Enough to show I wasn’t brushing her fears off.

“Okay,” I said softly, letting my voice settle into something calm, steady. “Ela will explain… now. Not everything, but enough for Misha to understand that Ela is not hurting herself. Not experimenting. Not ruining anything.”

That earned me a fraction of relief—her shoulders dropped maybe half an inch, but her eyes stayed locked on mine, waiting.

So I pulled in a slow breath and continued.

“Ela’s body changed because of something called Anima. Not because Ela forced anything,” I said, choosing my words carefully, like navigating a minefield made of Gryplik-level emotional stakes. 

“Sprites—Anima spirits, as they’re called—did work on Ela’s body. Ela will try to explain what they are, but Ela isn’t too sure of that either… But, thing is, Ela didn’t exactly ask for it. Didn’t even know it was happening to this degree. But it’s done now, and… Ela is okay. Better than okay.”

Misha’s frills twitched, her brows knitting in that painfully earnest way of hers. “Sprites worked on Ela without permission…?”

“Yeah,” I admitted, wincing. “Kinda like that.”

A low, resonant growl rumbled through her chest—not anger at me, but something protectively indignant on my behalf. 

Very Gryplik. Very Misha.

“But,” I added quickly before she declared war on incorporeal forces, “Ela is safe. Truly. Ela checked with an expert on the matter and they said the Sprites were all done with their work and there were no real downsides. So… Ela is not in danger from what was done. It just made Ela’s body… stronger and faster. More efficient, in a way. Nothing broken. Nothing hurting. Just an upgrade.”

Misha stared at me for a long, tense stretch.

Then she reached down with both hands and squished my cheeks together, pulling my face up to her height.

“Ela must never scare Misha like this again,” she declared, voice trembling. “Misha’s heart cannot take it.”

Despite everything, a tiny laugh slipped out of me—muffled through my squished cheeks, but real.

“Ela will try,” I said once she finally let go. “Ela really will try.”

That seemed to soothe something deep inside her. 

Her tufts settled, her face smoothed down, and she let out a slow, relieved trill as she pulled me back into a gentler, more normal Misha-hug this time.

We stayed like that for another quiet minute, until the sound of a familiar voice wafted into the backroom from the reception area, “Misha? It’s Jade! Is Ela here already? Jade was waiting for her in front of the store, but it’s already past the time…”

I was surprised at myself for how excited I felt in hearing the other girl’s voice again, after what felt like a damn eternity.

Before Misha could answer, I figured that simply replying myself would get the point across faster, “Ela is here, yes! In the backroom, come on in.” 

Misha seemed fine with me taking the lead on this as it allowed her to nuzzle for a few more seconds, before she broke away from me—clearly not wanting to showcase her weakness in front of Jade.

Jade stepped through the doorway a moment later, her eyes landing on me first—and softening in that very Jade way where she pretended they hadn’t. 

Her posture eased, shoulders dropping just a hair, like she’d been holding tension she didn’t want to admit to. I felt a spark of warmth flare in my chest at the sight.

“Hey,” she said, voice casual but not actually casual.

“Hey,” I replied, a small grin tugging at my mouth.

She reached out and squeezed my shoulder—light, careful, like she wasn’t sure how fragile I still was—which was probably fair, since the last time she saw me I had been half a second from death. 

I leaned into it just enough to tell her I wasn’t made of glass anymore. 

She caught that and nodded, a ghost of something glad flickering across her face.

Behind us, Misha perked up with a trill of greetings, her ruby eyes brightening as she said, “It is good to see Jade again under better circumstances than last time’s.”

“Good to see Misha too,” Jade replied in that slightly awkward way where she was fighting her own brain to not include things such as “you”, “I” and the like, that would hurt the poor Gryplik’s brain. “And same. Definitely prefer it this way, that’s for sure.”

After their brief introductions, the two of them turned toward me in unison. 

It was clear, from the expectation in their expressions, that the baton was in my hands now. 

This was my meeting, my explanation, my mess to unravel.

I cleared my throat. “Before Ela starts—Can Misha close up the shop for a bit? Just to make sure no one wanders in. What Ela needs to talk about shouldn’t be overheard.”

Misha straightened immediately, all business. “Acceptable. Misha will secure the Emporium.”

She vanished through the front doors with surprising speed for a creature her size. 

Jade watched her go, then turned back to me with that same unreadable-but-soft look she always got when she was worried but doing her best not to show it.

“You look better,” she said quietly. “Like nothing ever happened, really. It’s impressive…”

“I’ll explain. Long story,” I muttered. “We’ll get there.”

Misha returned less than a minute later, dusting her hands dramatically. “Emporium secure. No customers will interrupt Friend Ela’s important revelations.”

She waited expectantly—so I gestured around at the piles of reinforced cases, stacked crates, and random fabric bundles scattered everywhere. 

“Alright. Let’s all sit down. Doesn’t have to be fancy—just comfortable.”

Misha immediately began rearranging her surroundings with the natural grace of someone who had spent years navigating their own chaos. 

She shoved aside a stack of armored cases, flipped two others on their sides to create makeshift stools, and tossed a thick cloth over a pile of sealed bags to make something resembling a cushioned seat. 

It wasn’t glamorous, but it was surprisingly comfortable—and very on-brand for Misha’s Emporium.

I took the cloth-covered seat. 

Jade settled next to me on a case that still had hazard stickers on it. 

Misha perched on her own improvised throne, towering over us both but radiating a focused seriousness I didn’t see often in her—if ever.

Taking a few deep breaths to settle myself, I felt nowhere near as confident as I had on the elevator ride up. 

Whatever script I’d tried to draft in my head had already dissolved into static. 

Hard to prep for a talk when I still didn’t know what the average person in this world knew, what counted as normal, what was taboo, or how Jade’s loyalties actually tilted when the pressure was on.

But this wasn’t something I could keep dodging. And I didn’t want to anymore either, not really.

“Alright, so… Ela will start off by saying that this strangeness regarding Ela’s body has been going on for a while now,” I began, easing myself into the words as if testing the water. “There was an accident, around a month, maybe two, ago, that nearly killed Ela. Even more than the recent one where both of you got Ela out safely.”

Misha gasped. 

Jade just stared at me with this look that said “Yeah, that sounds like your life,” and honestly? Rude. 

Completely uncalled for. 

It wasn’t like I went out of my way to get almost-murdered on a weekly basis. 

It just… kind of had a habit of happening around me recently.

I powered through the sheer and utter disrespect. “Since then, things have been… different for Ela. Things have progressed slowly. Some changes have been noticeable to others, like Jade. Other things were more subtle but became obvious when observed up close, such as Misha’s realization about Ela’s blood.”

Jade flicked a confused look between the two of us—clearly she’d missed the whole blood-disappearing subplot. 

That would be fun to explain later.

“So,” I continued, letting myself drop into serious-mode and tapping just enough of my Edge to steady my voice into something cold and controlled, “Ela wants to be perfectly clear that this is not something that can, or should, be shared with anyone else.”

Both of them stilled as they heard the level of seriousness in my voice.

“Ela has been made aware—by people far, far more informed on this entire mess—that even possessing knowledge about the topic can be grounds for… severe repercussions.” I held their gazes, making sure they understood this wasn’t melodrama. “Ela means kidnapping, torture, and even death. This is not hyperbole. It is an active, very real threat, and Ela does not want either Jade nor Misha walking into this blind.”

Jade swallowed hard. Misha’s tufts puffed in alarm, like she’d just been hit with a static charge.

“Ela will answer questions as best as Ela can,” I finished quietly, holding their eyes one at a time, “but understand the level of danger you’re accepting by even listening. Ela will grant a few minutes of thinking time; use it. Ela will not accept immediate answers.”

They both drew breath to protest—Jade with that stubborn tilt of her chin, Misha with a quiet, rising-pitched trill that usually meant she was about to fling herself into something headfirst, usually straight at me—but the moment they caught the expression on my face, everything died on impact.

Silence settled over the backroom like a heavy blanket.

I wasn’t joking. I wasn’t exaggerating. And I was making damn sure they both saw that.

I did not want either of them stumbling into this because they felt they had to prove something to me, or to themselves, or to whatever idea of friendship they thought we had. 

This wasn’t a cute little shared secret. This wasn’t low-stakes gossip. 

This was the kind of knowledge that, according to every single person in my life who actually knew what they were talking about—Mr. Shori to some degree, Miss K, Valeria—could get people erased.

Anima wasn’t some half-forgotten rumor or hobbyist niche. 

It was a landmine with a handwritten sign taped over it that said “DON’T DEAD OPEN INSIDE” in increasingly frantic handwriting.

If they listened to my explanation now—if they crossed this line—there was no going back. 

They’d be carrying that danger for the rest of their lives, no matter how careful they thought they were. 

No matter how careful I tried to be.

So I watched them think.

Jade stared down at the floor, jaw tight. 

Misha sat perfectly still, hands folded in her lap—far too still for the energetic Gryplik—her tufts flicking every few seconds as if adjusting for invisible crosswinds.

I didn’t think either of them would choose to walk away; that wasn’t who they were. 

But I still needed them to choose it—not get dragged along by momentum. 

Not jump just because they cared about me.

This had to be intentional and carefully considered.

Chosen with both eyes open.

So I waited, breathing slow and controlled, letting them have the silence and the space to actually think, even though my own nerves were scraping against my ribs like broken glass the entire time…

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[TAS + ND Announcement] Taking Monday/Tuesday off this week! Admin Week for December + Christmas Art info inside

Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Just a quick heads-up:

I will be taking Monday and Tuesday off for this week, as my work is getting mighty anal-y the closer we get to the end of the year and I need some extra time to not lose my goddamn fucking mind.

I'm likely going to be putting the Admin Week around Christmas, so I can spend some time with my family without worrying too much about chapter releases.

There will be Christmas-special pinups for both TAS and ND released on German Christmas (24th), if I don't forget to upload them, otherwise they'll be live on the 25th when I inevitably remember in a cold sweat at 3:13am.

The TAS one will be EXTRA spicy here on Patreon, as I gave the artist full control over how crazy they want to go with the spicy version. As a christmas treat for y'all.

That means the next ND and TAS chapters will be going live on Thursday/Friday 4th/5th December respectively.

Thank you for the support and continued enthusiasm for the silly lil' novels!

[TAS] Volume 2 - Interlude: Orbit

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Volume 2 - Chapter 56 - Melting has just released on RR and has had it's name changed to Chapter 56 - Exustio.

For the Wolf Lords, this chapter has seen some major changes in regards to a character's described appearance. Check the #Wolf-Lord-Chat in discord for exact rundowns on what changed.

And also: Please do not read the chapters here on Patreon, but go for the googledoc, .pdf or .epub instead. Patreon butchers all forms of formatting and you're missing out on easier and more enjoyable reading experiences.

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I've had WAY too much fun writing this one.

The initial Peria PoV was meant to be very short and the introduction to the System 102 lecture, as a comedic relief. But it got out of hand cause I was having too much fun.

So I added more stuff and another PoV to make the seamless transition to the lecture in the next one.

I think it makes for a good interlude, all things considered!

Let me know how y'all feel about it!

------

I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is the link to the chapter:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Na0iANEIh_c0mfN2LGeF9My9oJImLTO_6S1Jc4SJUw0/edit?usp=sharing

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Volume 2 - Interlude: Orbit

“Most people misunderstand Skills—not out of ignorance, but because the System makes them look deceptively simple.

“A Skill isn’t a reward for dabbling. 

“It is the System’s acknowledgement that the knowledge inside your head has reached a level of completion and consistency that it considers ‘fit for purpose.’

“Take [Mathematics], for example: Nearly every human alive can add, subtract, multiply, and divide. Many can manage basic algebra, a bit of geometry, maybe even a touch of calculus depending on where they grew up. 

“But simply knowing pieces of a topic does not earn the Skill.

“The System demands roughly ninety-five percent mastery of every fundamental sub-topic it considers relevant. What counts as ‘fundamental,’ however, is… flexible. Some areas require total understanding and perfect execution—such as addition, which the System treats as an absolute. Other fields, especially those tied to physical action like [Driving] or [Climbing], allow for a wider margin. There, the System cares less about rigid perfection and more about consistent, reliable performance across real-world conditions.

“After all, even the System cannot expect you to learn how to drive every single vehicle in the known universe, with every single configuration. Instead, it demands conceptual proficiency—the understanding of how to approach driving any vehicle in existence of the same class, to a satisfactory degree.

“Now, once you pass the halfway mark toward qualification—fifty percent, give or take—the System will, upon request, show you what topics remain for you to learn, to be granted the Skill. But it won’t hand you the answers, of course. It will simply show you which sub-topics are incompletely understood.

“And here is where most learners hit the wall: If you lack any conceptual foothold for a sub-Skill, the System will simply refuse to display it. It will mark it only as ‘???’. 

“This is not malicious. It is simply the System saying, ‘You do not yet understand enough to even comprehend the question.’

“Entire sections of the highest level of the [Physics] Skill remain completely shrouded behind those question marks. Not due to secrecy, but because humanity as a whole has yet to discover the underlying principles in the first place. 

“Marines often circumvent these kinds of walls with Skill Classes—paid training modules designed by the UHF that fill in the missing blanks efficiently; just like an intensive university course on a Core-planet would.

“There is, naturally, always that last path available—the slow path, the frustrating path—which has been the true engine of human progress since our very beginning: 

“When confronted with the System’s hardline stance on not helping us over the hurdles, we are forced to push outward. To experiment, to question, to discover what we now know must exist, somewhere.

“So if the System shows you a ‘???’, do not despair. You are staring at the very boundary of your knowledge. But you are not forced to stay there. It is an invitation, not a reprimand. 

“And if humanity is ever going to push past the Bubble and stand our ground against whatever horrors or wonders wait outside our galaxy, then someone has to be bold enough to take those invitations. 

“To experiment. To dig. To learn the things nobody has ever learned before.

“Because raising the knowledge of one mind, even by a little, raises the knowledge of us all.”

—

[Excerpt from “Foundations of the Allbright System,” 7th Edition – Dr. Ellivar Mune – PFC903]

======

======

PoV: Peria Akin

“—magnified optics up to 24x easily attachable, as well as several after-market modifications for your consideration, if you’d like more customization options down the line,” Peria finished her sales pitch, handing over the weapon in question to her newest potential customer with the proper Abundant Ammunitions flourish: A slight bow, both hands offering the gun, and a bright, practiced smile.

He was yet another Recruit, fresh off his first Digital Mission if Peria had to guess, which meant he was probably in the market for a new partial license to replace the standard-issue rifles he’d likely carried through the Assessment and DM. 

Nothing overly exciting—but at least he’d come in with a clear idea of what he wanted. 

He had asked for someone experienced with the finer details of the weapons instead of settling for a basic clerk.

Peria could appreciate that.

Anything that got her talking about the war-engineering masterpieces Abundant Ammunitions had on offer was already a win in her book.

And frankly, the late shift had been painfully boring, so she was grateful for the distraction.

She watched the customer handle the gun—his demeanour curious and movements practiced, which in her opinion boded well for a potential sale. 

Still, her thoughts drifted. 

Her life had gone through one hell of a shake-up over the past few days, and she wasn’t sure what she had really fallen into quite yet.

Ever since the Thea McKay had shown up at the store—and then, by seemingly pure accident, elevated and hauled Peria out of the fire in rapid succession—things had spiraled in directions she never imagined possible.

First and foremost: She wasn’t the Senior Inventory Specialist of Abundant Ammunitions anymore. 

No, she had been slapped with a shiny new job title created specifically “for her expertise in dealing with technically versed VIPs,” as the talking heads put it. The title itself was ridiculous enough to make her wince every time she saw it:

“Expert Weapons Consultation Specialist.”

She still didn’t know what to make of it.

She hadn’t exactly learned anything new about weapons that she hadn’t known before, so going from senior to expert felt preposterous, but who was she to gainsay the talking heads?

And then again, the raise was rather substantial—she wasn’t the type to complain about that kind of upgrade, ever—but the so-called promotion hadn’t come with any sort of briefing. Just a datapad notification saying she was an Expert Weapons Consultation Specialist now, with no option to accept or decline either.

And so she was one—whatever that was supposed to mean.

She hadn’t been given any new duties, responsibilities, or guidance. 

Her day-to-day life was identical to before: Same store, same shelves, same long shifts. 

The only real changes were the new plaque on her uniform and the thicker pay-stub sitting in her account.

‘And that I’m now the go-to whenever Marines like this one show up,’ she thought, watching the Recruit handle the rifle she’d picked out for him based on his specs. ‘Thought that was already kind of the case before as well. So not really that much of a change after all…’

The weapon in question was a Battle-Rifle called the “Ruin”—a workhorse that could fit into almost any loadout, even if Marines rarely picked it for reasons that Peria could only chalk up to pure idiocy on the Corps’ part.

Out of every rifle in the store, the Ruin was one of the most balanced choices, at least in her personal and exceedingly humble opinion. 

Strong ammunition that could punch through anything short of Super-Heavy armor with proper aim, reliable in almost any conditions, a solid fire-rate if things got desperate, and enough after-market parts to turn it into whatever the user wanted—except for pure close-quarters combat, which no Battle-Rifle excelled at anyway.

‘And the ammo economy is way better than the AR-303 too… No idea why that thing became standard-issue,’ Peria thought with a shake of her head.

She had never understood the Corps’ obsession with that rifle.

Sure, it did everything “fine,” but nothing about it stood out at all. Which might have been the entire point, but if you were going to pick something as the weapon that every single Marine trained with, you’d think they’d choose something with at least a hint of flair or personality.

‘I swear they’re just—’

Her thoughts cut off as a chaotic alarm burst from her datapad, shrill and sudden. 

Peria yelped, nearly dropping the device as she scrambled awkwardly to catch it before it hit the floor—an unflattering few moments where she was half-balancing, half-jumping on one leg just to snatch it out of the air. 

With the datapad barely secured, she let out a sharp breath and shut off the shrill alarm, her heart beating in her throat for more than one reason. 

The surprise, obviously. 

But also the embarrassment of having done that in front of a customer, who had just about jumped out of his skin at the sudden noise—definitely Peria’s fault, considering she was the one who had set this alarm up. 

And, of course, the meaning behind the alarm didn’t help either.

Personal datapads weren’t allowed during work hours at any Abundant Ammunitions branch, so Peria had gotten creative with her setup to receive important messages while on shift—and there was only one person she considered important enough to justify all that effort for.

It hadn’t been hard to convince the local manager to let her script and connection bypass the usual red tape, after she explained it was so she could keep the ship’s number-one VIP in the loop with Abundant Ammunitions at all times.

She checked the forwarded message quickly, excitement bubbling the moment she saw the sender.

[Hey Peria!

[It’s me, Thea. I hope you remember me...?

[I was wondering if you’d like to talk about some weapons, particularly the Gram variants I bought from Abundant Ammunitions with your help recently. 

[I just finished my first Digital Mission with them and have fairly thoroughly tested them in live-fire conditions as I’d want to use them for, so I figured it would be a good time to bounce ideas off each other about a few things.

[Would tomorrow afternoon be good for you?

[If you find the time, I’d like for you to review the recording of the Digital Mission, which the Sovereign will grant you access to, should you accept. (I already cleared it with her and she says it’s ok!) It should help with giving you an idea of what we might talk about in regards to the weapons.

[If there’s any payment required to make sure you have the time to review everything before our meeting, or to free up your time for us to meet at… let’s say like 1700? Just let me know!

[Best wishes, Thea McKay]

Peria stared at the message like the datapad had grown a very literal human head to stare back at her. 

‘Why does she message me like she’s writing a corporate message, but then also go full casual in the way she actually types? What is happening here…?’ she thought.

It would’ve been so much easier to just pick one tone—either all formal or all casual—but not both mashed together like a weird hybrid. There had to be some sort of reason for this choice, Peria was certain, but she couldn’t even begin to figure it out at first glance.

“Is… is everything okay?” the Marine next to her asked tentatively, and Peria had to remind herself for a brief moment that she was, in fact, not alone.

“Ah—yes! My apologies for the startling sound. I’ve just received an important communication from headquarters. I’ll need to check on this, if you’d excuse me? I’ll send someone over to continue assisting you and help with any purchases you might want to finalize.”

The Marine hesitated for a moment but eventually gave her a short nod, before returning to look at the Ruin with a kind of focus that told Peria she was definitely missing out on a sale by leaving now—but Thea’s message was simply more important, so she quickly waved over one of her co-workers to pick up where she left off.

Rushing into the back rooms, she dropped into the nearest workbench chair and pulled the message back up, trying to make sense of the VIP’s request.

‘Figures she’d be one of the first to jump into a DM, huh?’ she chuckled to herself. 

She’d heard plenty about Alpha Squads and Aces, but meeting one in person—and seeing that drive firsthand—made it obvious why Thea had already completed a mission, even though the terminals had only opened earlier today.

‘So she wants to go over the Gram variants… She bought the Gauss and Ballistic ones, so those will definitely be part of it. But she’ll compare them to the Laser version too; that’s just how these things go,’ Peria mused, already jotting notes onto her datapad. 

She needed to be properly prepared for this, especially with a VIP like her.

She’d learned that the hard way after the too-close-for-comfort scare with the talking heads during Thea’s last visit. 

Messing up was not an option—she couldn’t rely on Thea coming to save her by accident once again. She had gotten the galactic-mulligan once already and that was all she would ever get.

“Tomorrow afternoon… around 1700?” She grimaced. “That’s about two hours after my shift starts. The manager’s going to lose it if I ask for time off on such short notice—even for a VIP. I’m going to have to ask her for payment and make this a semi-official thing, aren’t I…?”

She kept reading—and then froze.

‘What… What do you mean you “cleared it with the Sovereign”, Thea?! The ship?! You talked to the damn ship’s main AI and asked it—her, I guess—to give me access to your DM recording?! I don’t even have clearance! Not even close! And it’s the actual ship’s AI, Thea, you can’t just ask it to run personal errands for you…?!’

She set the datapad down, forcing herself through long, deep breaths until the panic stopped making her fingers tingle.

“No, Peria. Maybe you’re the one being unreasonable here…” she reminded herself out loud. The sound of her own voice helped ground her. “Clearly Thea already got the approval from the… the Sovereign itself, so she was absolutely right about it being possible. VIPs really are just built different from normal people like you. Stop thinking they follow the same rules… I’m sure this sort of thing is very common for Marines to do.”

Having calmed herself down with that reminder, she picked up the datapad again and read the entire message once more, nodding to herself absent-mindedly as she worked through the math in her head.

‘Yeah… I’ll need to ask her for payment on this. There’s no way I can review a full DM, plus prepare everything I need to make sure I don’t disappoint her, if I also have to finish today’s shift and start tomorrow’s before the meeting…’

She quickly added up the numbers: Around fifteen hours of lost work today and tomorrow combined—assuming their conversation didn’t end up lasting her entire shift.

‘Actually… It might be safer to assume I’ll be busy the whole day tomorrow. Thea might really want to go deep on this talk. Last time, I got the feeling she only left because she had to meet up with her friend…’

So, around eighteen hours lost with the rest of today and all of tomorrow.

Adding fifty percent on top for the private nature of the consultation and the short notice, plus another thirty percent for it being held inside Abundant Ammunitions’ store…

Peria paled at the number forming in her mind.

‘Did I mess up somewhere…?’ she wondered, even though she was pretty sure she hadn’t. 

Calculating things like this was part of the very first weeks of clerk training—just in case a Marine asked for a private consultation quote. 

Not necessarily for your consultation, but for someone’s.

Abundant Ammunitions always preferred giving a quick, close-enough estimate over making a customer wait for a perfect one. And Peria couldn’t balk at the policy. Most people would rather have a fast ballpark number than a flawless one twenty minutes later.

And she had always been good at ballpark numbers… yet she still ran through the math twice more, just to be sure.

‘Fuck me… There’s no way I can ask her for this many Credits just for talking to me!’

Her head slumped into her hands as she stared at the empty workbench.

Thea had saved her. And now she was practically forced to fleece the girl, when all Thea wanted to do was talk about guns?

How was that even remotely fair?

‘But the damn regulations are very clear on this… It’s too many hours for a manager to justify writing off. And they’d never agree to take the loss just because a VIP wants a private chat with an employee—they want the VIP in the store, not hanging out with someone off-hours.’

She couldn’t really blame them for that either, as much as she wanted to.

Thea’s last purchase alone had brought in as much revenue as several weeks of normal sales—although, to be fair, the post-Assessment rush and the newly opened Digital Mission terminals always skewed things a bit.

With a heavy sigh, Peria started writing her answer, opting for a very casual one—quietly hoping she hadn’t missed anything important hidden between the lines about why Thea might have chosen such an odd hybrid-communication style in her own message.

[Thea! Happy to hear from you!

[I’d absolutely love to talk shop about the Gram’s, but I’ll be pretty busy at work today and tomorrow! I doubt I can review the whole DM and prepare all the information that might be useful, unless I take both days off…

[I don’t think it’s worth the Credits it’d cost to reimburse Abundant Ammunitions for my time, so maybe we can move it to a different day, later in the week? I’d be free in about four days, starting from around 1600.

[I’ll attach the payment request for Abundant Ammunitions’ reimbursement anyway, in case you think it’s time-sensitive enough.

[Talk to you soon!]

She read through it three times before sending it off, sinking into the chair like the message had drained the last bit of her energy.

‘One hundred thirty-three Credits just to talk to me for a day…? That’s way too much. I wonder if I could convince the talking heads to reduce consultation costs for VIPs somehow… Argue that it’s to build better working relationships with them…? Make sure they can always reach the consultants they want, whenever they want? That should boost relations and sales in the long run, right?’ she wondered, mulling it over and jotting down ideas for a potential proposal on the side.

‘So I’ll probably have around three days to review the full DM and get everything ready for Thea… Honestly might be better this way, since I’ll need booth time with the guns myself to get a proper feel for them. I could probably ask Jonas for his opinion too… No clue what his shifts look like right now, though. Last I heard Orange Armaments was slammed, so he might not be free anytime soon… I should just message him, surely he’ll—’

The shrill alarm from her datapad cut through her thoughts, making Peria yelp as she scrambled once again to catch the device before it hit the floor.

“Fuck!” She cursed, breathing hard as she tried to calm her racing heart. “I really need to change that fucking sound, holy shit.”

She opened the message that had caused the alarm and froze at how short it was.

[Awesome! See you tomorrow, Peria!]

“Huh?” she breathed, staring between the message and the attached payment confirmation.

A long second passed before her brain kicked back into gear. 

She blinked rapidly, almost as if that would make the message change.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait—what?! You can’t just pay that much to talk to me!” she blurted, throwing both hands up. “What is wrong with this girl?!”

One hundred thirty-three Credits. 

That was almost her entire newly-upgraded, weekly salary. 

For a single day of consultation. About guns.

Then the real horror hit her.

‘Oh. Oh no. I only have… what, less than twenty-four hours to prep…? Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!’

Eyes widening, she shot out of the backroom like she’d been launched, already mentally listing everything she suddenly needed:

Find the manager and tell him she wasn’t coming back for the rest of her shift today—or tomorrow. 

And request priority access to a virtual room. 

And pull three specific guns from inventory. 

And reserve the next-tech workbench. 

And gather notes, run calibrations, cross-reference specs—and message Jonas!

And…

—

—

PoV: Recruit Evelyne Midra Sen

Observing the mostly empty lecture hall, where the System 102 lecture would soon start, Evelyne was practically buzzing with excitement. It had been a hectic thirteen hours since she’d made what was likely the most life-changing discovery she would ever make.

She hadn’t slept a wink—not that it mattered. 

Her upbringing had included lengthy sleep-deprivation training modules, making sure she could function almost perfectly even after several days without rest. 

Still, the sleepless night showed just how turbulent everything had become. 

Her entire plan for her first year in the UHF had been flipped completely on its head.

Her family would probably disapprove—it was unbecoming of a daughter of the Sen to throw away her cover for something as “frivolous” as hope—but she couldn’t let an opportunity like this slip away. 

So she did what any normal person would do: She found an empty storeroom, away from prying eyes and ears, and made a deal with the most devilish of things the UHF had in store.

The UHF’s ship AIs were special, her tutors had always told her. 

They had… ways about them. 

An ulterior sort of programming almost nobody inside the Corps knew about—not even most of the higher brass, barring the Captains of each ship and select individuals. 

It was about their prime directives, which many simply took for granted. But their prime directive wasn’t to serve the officers, nor to serve the Marines aboard them.

No, their prime directive was to facilitate the best possible long-term outcome for the UHF as a whole, no matter what.

It was a secret the Sen family had learned generations ago, and one that they had agreed to protect, in exchange for certain concessions on the UHF’s side. But knowing it gave Evelyne a direct path to negotiate parts of her plan—to make sure she could keep an eye on her MMM at all times.

Not for free, of course.

She clicked her tongue, remembering the long negotiation and haggling session with the ship’s AI, and let her eyes wander over the arriving Marines trickling into the hall.

‘At least Beta Squad before the second Assessment, huh? You’re insulting me, Sovereign,’ she thought with a flicker of annoyance. ‘You could’ve at least demanded Alpha Squad from a Sen, you incongruent bucket of rust.’

She would’ve preferred to stay hidden a while longer, watching from the sidelines until later in the year, but that wasn’t an option anymore. 

In order for the Sovereign to place her into Thea McKay’s lecture cycle—starting today, with the System 102 lecture—Evelyne had to put in some small levels of effort sooner than expected.

She still had time before the second Assessment, but half-measures weren’t in her nature. 

So starting today, she would lay the groundwork for her rise to Beta Squad, as the Sovereign demanded, while also getting closer to her Thea in general.

She’d snuck into the lecture hall early, just to see where Thea would sit so she could pick a nearby seat—out of sight, but close enough to listen to any conversations the girl might have. And unlike every other day since joining the UHF Recruits, she’d actually done her hair properly and applied the makeup expected of a Sen stepping into the public eye.

They had been transformed from her usual “functional and unbothered” look into something far more precise—yet still subtle enough that an untrained eye would barely register the change.

Her previously dark auburn hair had returned to its natural ebony-black. 

The usually slightly disheveled, shoulder-length fall had been swept back into a sleek, low-tension twist that fed into a short, angled tail resting neatly along her neck. 

A few strands were left loose on purpose, softening her features just enough while still keeping her field of vision completely unobstructed.

It wasn’t an ornate style—not flashy enough to draw attention—but the layering was too exact, too controlled, for anyone with real training to miss. 

It was classic Sen efficiency: Elegant, restrained, and built to avoid giving an opponent anything easy to grab; unless she wanted them to.

Her makeup was, naturally, just as subtle. 

A thin sweep of muted ever-so-slightly velvet shadow around her eyes gave them a quiet sharpness without looking like makeup at all, enhancing the natural depth of her gaze.

Her lashes had the faintest lift—nothing dramatic, just enough to widen her eyes and make her look more awake and attentive after a sleepless night. 

A touch of neutral foundation blurred the faint scar beneath her left eye without hiding it, and a swipe of soft rose across her lips added a hint of color that vanished unless you knew to look for it.

On anyone else, it would’ve read as “light, casual makeup.” 

On a Sen, it was a carefully crafted mask—high-class restraint disguised as something ordinary, tailored to slip past most eyes while still meeting the expectations tied to her family name.

Evelyne’s focus snapped to the bright-golden strands of long hair drifting through the entrance, framing a face she had known would be here, but had still absolutely hoped would not appear today: Rachel Veronica Masters.

She allowed herself the briefest flicker of annoyance before smothering the emotion entirely, forcing her mind back into calculation.

‘There are only four Major Legacies in this Drive; I doubt Masters even knows I exist yet. She’ll recognize me now, though… but maybe that’s not such a bad thing? It could grease the wheels for avoiding half the problems this lecture might bring,’ she thought, shifting deeper into the shadowed corner of the hall, keeping just out of the Legacy’s line of sight. 

Better to hold the element of surprise until she chose to use it.

The buzz surrounding Masters—an ever-present hum of attention and admiration—made Evelyne’s skin prickle, even from this distance. 

Masters carried that natural pull common to her Legacy: The frontline stars, the faces of their squads, the born leaders. 

All attention, strength, and charisma.

But Rachel…? Rachel had already stumbled in that. Badly.

Her performance at the Awards Ceremony had been utterly appalling, at least to Evelyne’s eyes. 

A Major Legacy should have the composure to maintain their image at all times—not lose their temper to the most blatant, low-effort provocation Major Quinn had likely ever tossed out.

‘Truly disappointing,’ Evelyne thought.

Then again, Masters weren’t exactly known for their subtlety. 

Their entire Legacy revolved around shining on the battlefield, not the quieter games—the shadows, the whispers, the unseen nudges that shifted events without leaving fingerprints.

A few minutes later, the second half of the guaranteed problem pair arrived: Lucas Callahan.

‘Masters is going to hate sharing a lecture with him of all people. But I can’t let her start anything before I’ve secured a spot near my Thea…’

There were only so many variables a plan could account for, and letting a loose cannon like Masters take a swing at one of Thea’s closest acquaintances? That was exactly the kind of chaos Evelyne couldn’t afford to let happen.

And then, just behind Lucas, the reason she was here at all stepped into view—her Thea, laughing idly at something the giant had said.

Evelyne’s breath stalled in her throat.

Thea’s bright, high-pitched laughter rang across the hall like a melody crafted just for her ears, and Evelyne silently thanked every Attribute Point she had ever invested into Perception—for once, she had absolutely no regrets in following her family’s Attribute layout.

That same sharp Perception let her catch another curious detail: Her Thea had, much like Evelyne herself—oh, the cosmic symmetry!—put on a touch of makeup she definitely hadn’t worn yesterday. 

It was very subtle, almost hesitant in application. 

A hint of color dusted across her cheeks, barely there unless the light caught it just right, and a soft touch around her eyes—more “experimental try” than any real technique behind it. 

The kind of look someone achieved by having far above average hand-eye coordination, but no real experience with what it was that they were doing, merely referencing a two-minute tutorial and then deciding, good enough, after spending far too much time trying to get it perfect, before walking out the door.

It was definitely a new thing.

And, by all accounts, pretty sloppy—at least compared to Evelyne’s own learned standards.

‘But the intent,’ Evelyne thought, warmth sparking in her chest and stomach. ‘One simply cannot deny the intent behind it. With a steadier hand guiding hers… this would truly look like it belonged. Even with something she is as inexperienced in like this, my MMM still has an instinctive knack for it, huh…?’

Allowing herself just a second more to bask in the package of bliss before forcing the emotions down, Evelyne started forward, moving quickly but keeping her footsteps quiet and subtle, her mind already mapping out the next few seconds with unnerving clarity. 

Masters would spot Callahan. Masters would get annoyed—furious, even—and start something. She couldn’t take a swing at him here, obviously, but she would almost certainly bait him, challenge him, try to drag him into some unnecessary spat. 

And Thea? She would be irritated beyond belief, especially with Masters going after one of her squadmates this early in the morning. She wouldn’t be able to do anything about it either, and that frustration would follow her through the entire lecture.

That meant her Thea would be annoyed, distracted, her attention fixed on Masters, of all people, rather than anything else.

Evelyne felt her blood pressure spike at the thought and forced out two sharp breaths to center herself, just in time to see Masters stand from her seat with a visible sneer aimed straight at Callahan.

She had to stop all of this before the members of Alpha Squad even realized Masters was trying to cause trouble—otherwise, anything Evelyne did would just expose her far too early.

Comparing her distance to theirs with a glance, she realized instantly, ‘I’m not going to make it like this…!’

Without hesitation, she triggered one of her Abilities.

[Phantom Stride]

A darkened streak rippled forward—more heat-shimmer than shadow—before pulling her along its path. In barely an instant she was standing directly behind Masters’ seat, arriving just as the other Legacy pushed herself upright.

Evelyne stepped forward, cutting off Masters’ path with clear intent.

Masters froze mid-step, her confusion snapping into place as she suddenly found herself chest-to-shoulder with someone who absolutely had not been there a second ago. 

“Who the fuck do you think you—” she started, voice already rising, already pulling breath for a full tirade—

 —but then her expression stuttered, then froze.

Evelyne watched the moment recognition slammed into her like one of Itoku’s punches during their little spar a few days back.

The golden-haired Legacy’s eyes flicked once over Evelyne’s face—over the precise, subtle velvet eyeshadow, the short, perfectly arranged ebony strands and hair, the faint scar beneath the eye—and everything seemed to click into place all at once.

Masters recoiled hard, stumbling back a half-step as if Evelyne had physically struck her. 

The shock on her face was almost comical—raw confusion wrapped in a sudden spike of caution that she clearly couldn’t hide fast enough.

“Sit down,” Evelyne said quietly, tone flat, almost gentle—but with an edge that cut straight through the air. “Don’t make trouble. Not until after the lecture.”

Masters’ jaw tightened hard enough for Evelyne to see the muscle jump. 

Defiance first—natural, feral and instinctive—her words grating on every part of her Legacy-born pride… but it faltered as the rest of her brain finally caught up. 

Wariness crept in slowly, replacing the earlier fire. 

She swallowed, eyes narrowing.

“Why?” Masters hissed under her breath. “Why do you even care about some loser Defensive Heavy who stole my rightful spot?”

Evelyne didn’t bother acknowledging the question. 

Her voice didn’t lift or drop; it stayed perfectly even, almost bored.

“I would really appreciate it if you did me this minor favor.”

That was all she said.

And it was enough.

Masters froze again—this time because she understood. 

A favor—even if minor. From a Sen. Offered freely. 

For something this simple; this small.

Her eyes darted as she calculated the value, weighing whatever pride she had against a gift no sane Legacy would ever turn down.

With a sharp huff, she gave a short nod and sank back down into her seat, posture stiff but compliant.

Evelyne didn’t wait. 

She stepped away before the other Legacy could even consider addressing her again, weaving through the rows and climbing the hall’s stairs with silent, rapid steps.

And just in time too, as Callahan and Thea arrived at the bottom of the stairs—smiling, chatting, doing a magnificent job of pretending Masters didn’t exist at all.

They climbed up the rows and settled three rows behind Masters. 

Evelyne immediately drifted down toward them, timing her steps so she wouldn’t draw a hint of attention. When she finally sat—just one row back and a little to the side of Thea—she let out a quiet, controlled breath of relief.

A flicker of annoyance pulsed through her; offering a minor favor just to shut Masters down fast enough to stay hidden grated on her. 

It was wasteful. Sloppy, even. 

Not how she was taught to operate.

But then Thea spoke—her voice soft and melodic, completely unaware of the chaos Evelyne had just smothered in the crib—and all irritation evaporated as if it had never existed in the first place.

She could hear her Thea’s voice perfectly, and the topic was nowhere near the other Legacy’s name.

Everything was exactly how it needed to be…

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[Wolf Lord+ | Draft] Volume 2 - Interlude: Keeps

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Welcome to the draft release of Volume 2 - Interlude: Keeps for y'all.

As always, a quick reminder that this chapter is still in the process of being workshopped by me and that this is simply the first-draft.

And also: Please do not read the chapters here on Patreon, but go for the googledoc, .pdf or .epub instead. Patreon butchers all forms of formatting and you're missing out on easier and more enjoyable reading experiences.

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Another Interlude today!

I've been doing quite a few of them recently, I'm aware, but it's part of the acceleration process of the story, to get us where we need to be.

Getting out of Thea's head allows for some time jumps that would otherwise be tough for me to justify, and allows for Thea to learn things off-screen at times, so these chapters serve as a way to both progress the story (as unlike Intermissions, Interludes always go right back to Thea's story directly) as well as show some other important aspects of the world happening.

I don't think there should be any more Interludes anytime soon, but I'm keeping this avenue open for whenever it seems like a great fit.

Hope you will enjoy this one!

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I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is the link to the chapter:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1d2Kf4IpTzd8KevbpEWOj2XCP4mxUdzSJqGRSbuJHewc/edit?usp=sharing

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Volume 2 - Interlude: Keeps

“When people talk about Legacies, they tend to romanticize the whole thing—like we’re some kind of noble houses of old-Terra chosen by fate to carve our names into the halls of the UHF. 

“That’s nonsense. 

“A Legacy is exactly what the name implies: A continuous passing-on of knowledge, sharpened and polished across generations. There is nothing mystical about it.

“A Legacy exists because one generation of Marines trains the next, who then trains the next, and so on—until the knowledge stops being a pile of good habits and becomes a system; a method. A tradition strong enough to survive the shifting tides of doctrine, politics, and the very Galactic War itself.

“In theory, any retired Marine who takes the time to teach their child about the Corps—its culture, its tactics, its way of life—counts as a Legacy. A generation can pass on a great deal. 

“But there’s a difference between handing over a few lessons and handing over more than six generations’ worth of refined doctrine, training structures, and hard-won insight. 

“One generation is practically nothing, in the grand scheme of the Allbright System’s complexities. Two is fragile. Three is promising. Only after at least six generations do you really get the beginnings of something worthy of the title of a Legacy.

“That is where the divide between Minor and Major Legacies sits. 

“Minors are those families in the early stages—less than six generations deep. They may be talented, even exceptional, but they have not existed long enough to burn away their inefficiencies. Their teachings still wobble, their results are still inconsistent by the very nature of their lack of refinement. 

“A Major Legacy has endured long enough for its methods to become sharpened, tested, and, most of all, proven.

“Now, don’t mistake this for misplaced arrogance. The Prime Legacies likely say the same about us—perhaps with good reason. Every rung of this ladder believes the ones above are overrated and the ones below are unpolished. 

“Tradition builds pride by necessity; and pride inevitably builds blind spots. That, too, is part of our Legacy: To impart the knowledge of this danger onto our children as well.

“There is however, one truth we all agree on: The Allbright System does not allow for perfect preparation. No Legacy—Minor, Major, or Prime—can guarantee its children will follow the exact path you imagined for them. 

“We can shape them. Guide them. Give them every advantage our ancestors and we ourselves carved out. 

“But the System always introduces its own chaos.

“So, what truly matters? The only thing that has always truly mattered in the UHF: Personal merit.

“The drive to carve out what is rightfully yours with your own two hands, the drive to be the best with your own blood, sweat and tears, and the drive to use whatever knowledge you are given, or can get your hands on, to your best advantage. 

“Legacies, in this dance, simply tilt the battlefield heavily in our favor, giving our children a head start toward this very excellence.

“After that, it’s up to them to claw their way into history and leave even further improved foundations behind for their own children.

”That is what makes a Legacy.”

—

[Excerpt from an interview recorded for the Vespera System Historical Initiative (VSHI) – Raymond Oleaven Masters, Patriarch of the Masters Major Legacy, PFC927]

======

======

PoV: Rachel Veronica Masters

“Victory!” rang the female announcer’s voice through the arena, before Rachel’s avatar disintegrated and she found herself back in the booth inside one of the Sovereign’s arcades.

It had been over two hours since her irritating conversation with Callahan and McKay, most of which she had spent grinding through training exercises in Terra’s games, trying—and failing—to burn off the lingering frustration. 

Yet Callahan’s complete and utter disregard for her very existence clung to her like an oil film.

“How fucking dare he…” she muttered through clenched teeth, wiping the sweat from her forehead. The VR-Dive-Helmet always made her run hot, and her long golden hair stuck messily to her damp skin. “Asking ‘Who are you again?’ like he didn’t fucking know! Piece of shit!”

There were a few mistakes she could already pick out during her time in the UHF Marine Corps—ones that would undoubtedly haunt her for a long time.

The first, and most obvious, was her reaction to Major Quinn’s devious trap—painfully clear in hindsight, especially when no other Award had gone to more than one Marine at a time. She had been warned about some of the Proprietor’s habits by her teachers, but she hadn’t expected to be on the legendary Major’s radar from the very beginning.

“A stupid assumption, Rachel,” she chided herself, leaning back heavily in the seat and staring at the ceiling. “You’re a Masters; you always talk about how much you’ve gained from your family—knowledge and training most of all—and then you ignore that exact legacy the moment you actually need to remember you are one? Stupid. Beyond stupid.”

It should have been obvious that Major Quinn—as well as the other officers, professors, and command staff aboard the Sovereign—would keep a close eye on her every move.

She was a Masters, after all. And that came with two sides, not just the favorable one.

Her reaction and the blowup at her squad had cost her a lot of the goodwill she’d built up—some of which was likely never to be repaired.

‘Won’t matter if I make it into Alpha Squad—when I make it into Alpha Squad,’ she told herself, but cracks had already begun to form in that certainty—cracks large enough that even she couldn’t ignore them.

Those had mostly come from her second mistake—the one that had probably given Callahan enough confidence to mock her so openly. 

“I really should have upgraded my Attributes, filled out my Abilities, and prepared my equipment properly before facing Itoku that day,” she muttered, running a hand through the damp strands of her hair. 

Losing that fight had been a mistake, and shocking in more ways than one.

Not only had it given Callahan—and the rest of Alpha Squad—a real reason to believe they could win; after all, Itoku had already beaten her once, so why wouldn’t the others think they could do the same? But the most shocking part had been her own lack of knowledge.

‘That damn [Redundant Organs] Ability…’

She had searched frantically for answers after her defeat, trying to figure out how Itoku had survived a blow that should have been fatal, only to eventually get an answer through an anonymous message. 

A message she hadn’t known the source of—until earlier today.

“A damn Sen, of all Legacies, in the same Drive, huh…? At least she seems to be on my side for now, giving me information like this,” Rachel muttered. “Whatever her goals are for Callahan, it doesn’t look like she’s trying to help him beat me—or help Alpha Squad as a whole, really. Major Legacies should stick together like that, after all. Only makes sense.”

That had probably been why the Sen girl—Evelyn, as Rachel had learned—had given her the details on Itoku’s Ability days ago, after her own attempts at gathering the information had failed repeatedly. 

The reasoning behind Evelyn’s actions was clear as well: It wouldn’t do for a Major Legacy to embarrass themselves against some mid-world grunt, as spectacular of a specimen as Itoku inarguably was. 

Rachel had even prepared a long, strongly worded letter to her teachers back on Vespera Prime, to very kindly inform them that their lack of knowledge on powerful low-grade Abilities was dangerous for a young Marine’s early career.

“It’s probably not something mum and dad ever had to deal with, considering how stacked this Drive is compared to any others before,” she sighed. “So I get why it probably didn’t appear important to them… But they still should have known! The Drives have been getting more and more high-roll every year, they even said so! Someone should’ve given me a primer on the best Abilities to grab right after the first Assessment, so I don’t have to swim through the sludge myself!”

But that was the nature of the System. 

She’d been warned about that—the possibility that she’d still be missing information. 

That she’d have to do her own research, find her own path through all the chaos.

And she had been prepared for that, honestly.

She just hadn’t expected it to literally punch her in the face several times, then crack her skull and splatter her brain across the training grounds, despite the amount of training and knowledge she had ahead of everyone else.

‘I’m ready next time, Itoku… I know your one trick now, and I’ve picked it up myself, so… what do you really have to threaten me with anymore?’

A wide, sharp grin stretched across her face as she imagined her next chance to face Alpha Squad’s Offensive Heavy.

‘I should honestly thank you, Itoku. [Redundant Organs] should have been part of our Legacy ages ago. I have no idea how my parents, teachers, and ancestors never thought of it as a possible staple, especially early on. You’ve shown me something genuinely valuable that I can pass down too...'

She was now more than ready to take on Callahan and whatever support Alpha Squad threw at her.

She was going to play for keeps...

—

—

PoV: Peria Akin

“No. No, really. It makes complete sense she’s also a fucking Psyker,” Peria muttered for what felt like the tenth time in just as many minutes. “Why wouldn’t she be. It’s not like she can’t already crush my skull in one hand like it’s pudding. Why wouldn’t she also be able to control fucking reality itself or whatever the living fuck it is that they do? It’s actually very sensible, if you think about it.”

And, in a strange way, she actually really believed that, deep inside.

There had been a full moment of panic, of course, right after watching the recording of the Digital Mission the girl had sent her—right at the point where she finally understood what kind of absolute monster had somehow chosen her, of all people, to be the contact for her weapons needs.

She had already known bits of it from the recent Assessment highlights still trickling out of the UHF MC’s media division, of course. 

The newest showcase had featured an impressive assault run by Alpha Squad. 

The context for what they were actually doing was vague, but the part where Thea launched herself halfway into the sky through a series of jumps and what had appeared to be some form of air-platforms, just to get a cleaner angle on a few targets? 

That had been everywhere—the Sovereign’s internal clerk forums were still buzzing with edits and replay loops of the moment.

But none of that had prepared her for watching Thea through the lens of an entire, almost unedited, Digital Mission from start to finish. And definitely not for the fact that she had been able to jump straight into Thea’s own point of view and see everything exactly as the girl must have seen it, whenever she wanted to.

What came after the sheer, unfiltered terror of realizing the girl was the Sovereign’s Ace for a very good reason… was a surprising moment of clarity and relief, on more than one front.

First and most obviously, she would never be facing the girl on a battlefield.

That alone took a huge weight off her shoulders.

‘Being a simple store clerk isn’t so bad, not when it means you don’t have to worry about something like her ending up across the field from you,’ she thought, a crooked smile tugging at her lips.

The second reason was… strange, but somehow comforting. 

It was the realization that, if Thea really wanted to kill her, she wouldn’t need to crush Peria’s skull with her bare hands—her main fear up until now. 

A simple thought would probably be enough, since the girl was a damn Psyker.

Not that Peria believed Thea would ever do something like that, of course.

The girl was extremely polite and downright adorable in how awkward she appeared at times, but given the sheer difference in power between them, it was not something that Peria had managed to fully set aside as a recurring possibility in her mind.

‘Everyone seems reasonable and downright cute at times when they’re not angry about something in the moment,’ she reminded herself. 

She’d learned that one early in life—the hard way.

And the third reason was the most practical of all: If Thea saw value in her, then Peria had that monster on her side in any future calculations.

‘As long as I can somehow keep her happy,’ she grimaced.

That part had been the hardest over the last twelve hours.

Trying to make sense of what Thea had been doing inside the DM had been tough enough—Peria barely understood what the Marines’ objective even was, much less why the girl was hauling all three Gram variants around inside the trenches at once. But trying to predict Thea’s questions and requests on top of that? It had nearly driven her mad.

Thankfully, help was on the way.

She checked the time on her datascreen again—for the twentieth time in two minutes—and right on cue, the moment 04:15 hit, her datapad chimed with an incoming call.

“Bless you and your punctuality, Jonas,” Peria muttered, snatching up the device and accepting the call right away.

Her own sleep-deprived, messy reflection appeared beside the face of a slightly older man, his short, rumpled black hair contrasting against pale skin. 

His red eyes and raised eyebrow said everything without a single word.

“Thanks for taking the time, Jonas,” she said quickly. “I know it’s late, but I really need to pick your brain on this.”

“So you said in your messages,” he replied, tilting his head. “So… what exactly has you this rattled, Peri? You’re not the type to practically beg anyone for help. Should I be worried? You’re not dragging me into something I’m going to regret, right…?”

“It’s nothing bad for you, I swear!” She said quickly, lifting her free hand as if to ward off the suspicion he hadn’t even voiced yet. “Really. I’m just… stressed about work. Well—semi-work, semi-personal contacts, I guess? There’s… this  client, and they’re going to ask me questions about things, but I can’t prepare the answers ahead of time because I don’t even know what the questions are.”

Jonas blinked once. “...I’m going to need more than that, Peri.”

She let out a thin, exhausted sigh. “It’s a Marine. Obviously. And the questions are going to be combat related—more specifically about the weapon variants I sold them a few days ago. I need to pick your brain about the models, about the configurations, about what you think they might ask. I basically need to simulate the whole conversation before it actually happens, so I know what kind of stuff they might ask and what I don’t know I don’t know about yet.”

Jonas sat back in his chair, taking that in. 

Then, slowly, he nodded. “Okay… but why not just ask the client what they want ahead of time?”

Peria made a pained sound. “Because that would be horrible form. They’re a VIP, Jonas. An important one. I can’t just ask them to pre-submit their questions like I’m sending them homework. It’d make me look completely unprofessional—and probably violate several hundred rules.”

That got his full attention. 

His eyes sharpened; the raised eyebrow dropped in favor of a more serious look. 

“A VIP Marine,” he echoed. “Alright. That explains the panic.”

“Yeah,” she muttered.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Alright then. What else can you tell me? Start from the top. Everything you’ve got. Let’s figure this out.”

Peria exhaled a long-held breath, slumping a little as she muttered, “Thank you, Jonas. You’re a damn life-saver…”

Then she straightened up again, drew in a steadying breath, and launched into the full rundown—twelve hours’ worth of jumbled observations, worries, and notes spilling out in a fast but surprisingly organized stream. 

Jonas listened without interrupting, his expression unreadable.

She kept things careful, leaving out Thea’s name, squad, and anything else that could identify her. She only covered what mattered for the upcoming conversation: General combat style, the fact she was a Psyker, how she used the weapons in question, the mods she’d made both in and outside the DM, and a few details Peria had picked up during their first meeting. 

Everything else stayed firmly off the table.

The whole explanation took almost an hour—Jonas only chiming in with the occasional sharp, targeted question—before Peria finally sank back into her couch and let herself breathe again. 

Jonas stayed quiet, eyes distant, clearly processing everything she’d just unloaded. 

At least, Peria hoped that was what he was doing and he hadn’t simply fallen asleep with his eyes open.

Jonas eventually leaned back in his chair, confirming he was not in-fact asleep, arms folding loosely as his eyes drifted off in thought. He stayed quiet long enough that Peria started to worry she had overloaded him, but then he let out a slow breath and nodded to himself.

“…Alright,” he said, voice steady. “I think I’ve got enough to work with for now.”

Peria perked up a little, tension easing from her shoulders.

Jonas continued, “We can start sorting through what this VIP might actually be after. If their combat style looks anything like what you described—and since they’re the one who bought those variants from you—we can narrow down the likely angles of questioning pretty fast. There’s only so many things someone like that would want to know—even if they sound deeply interested in the matter as a whole.”

He rubbed his stubbled jaw thoughtfully, the faintest hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“So. Let’s dig into what they might be planning to ask you and play this through a couple of times, to see where it leads...”

—

They spent another five hours going back and forth on different ideas, running mock-meetings and working through every angle they could think of. 

By the end of it, Peria was sprawled across her couch, head pounding with a brutal mix of sleep-deprivation and too much thinking.

“I think that about wraps it up, Peri,” Jonas said, yawning hard. “And if all that prep doesn’t make the VIP happy, then it’s not on you. You’ve got the logs to prove you did your homework, and I can vouch too.”

That made her perk up. 

She reached for the datapad she’d abandoned on the coffee table two hours earlier when her arms couldn’t keep holding it up.

“Listen, Jonas,” she said. “This isn’t about work… not really. This VIP… I… They saved my life. It’s more than just wanting to do a good job. I really don’t want to disappoint them.”

His red eyes widened, and he leaned forward. “Saved your life…?”

“Didn’t have the time to talk to you about that yet… Was planning on it, the next time we met up for drinks,” Peria sighed heavily. “The first time I met them, I ended up in a room with all the talking heads—every single one. Regional sector manager included. I was being terminated. Guaranteed.”

Jonas’ eyes practically bulged at that.

“I didn’t exactly behave like an Abundant Ammunition clerk should around a VIP—tons of violations of that stupid manual. You know how it is. But the VIP… they’re a big one, Jonas. The kind you cannot afford to mess up with.”

He nodded slowly.

“So the talking heads were furious I broke protocol. They listed every little thing I did wrong, right to my face, building the case in real time like my presence didn’t even matter. I was done. Truly done. No wiggle room, nothing. And I just sat there, because what else could I do? Clerks like us mess up, we get terminated. That’s it.”

She rubbed her forehead, feeling the memory settle back in like a weight.

“But then—Jonas, I swear I still get chills—the VIP came back. After they’d already gotten their gear, paid, everything. Mid-termination meeting, I get another VIP request pinging on my datapad. The talking heads kicked me out instantly, because even they can’t ignore a VIP summon. And then… they asked for my personal contact. Asked for me, specifically, to be their personal weapons tech going forward.”

Jonas let out a long, low whistle, sinking back in pure disbelief. “And suddenly the talking heads couldn’t afford to let you go, huh?”

She nodded hard. “One-eighty, instantly. Massive promotion. Larger room—” she moved around the datapad to show it, “—but most important: No termination. The VIP is the only reason I’m still here. I owe them, Jonas. And they’re actually… really nice. Personable. Easy to talk to. So I really don’t want this to go wrong. This is the only thing I can do to repay them for their kindness—intentional or not. They literally saved my life. You get me?”

“I get you,” Jonas said gently, the tired edge in his voice softening. “And don’t worry, Peri. You’re not going to disappoint them. You’ve put more work into this than most full research teams do in a month. If anything, they’ll be impressed you took their request this seriously.”

Peria let her head sink back into the couch cushion, eyes closing for a moment as the tension finally eased out of her shoulders.

“Yeah… I really hope so,” she murmured.

Jonas gave a quiet, thoughtful hum. “Just remember: Whatever else happens, you’re not walking into that meeting unprepared. You’ve done everything you possibly could.”

She nodded, even if he likely couldn’t see it clearly from her slumped angle. “Thanks, Jonas. Really. And… sorry for keeping you up all night. I know you had a long day already.”

“Anytime, Peri. And don’t mention it; I know you’d do the same for me if I needed you,” he said, and the sincerity in his voice made her smile despite the pounding in her head.

Jonas was good people—the first real friend she’d made aboard the Sovereign, and probably the only one she’d ever actually call that.

A few pleasantries and a wish for a restful night later, Peria ended the call, letting the room fall into a comfortable silence. 

She sat with it for a few breaths, then forced herself up from the couch.

She shuffled into the small kitchen area and grabbed one of the injectors from the counter—the boosters she’d bought after her shift had abruptly imploded yesterday, knowing she’d need something to keep her sharp for the lengthy prep.

She pressed it to her neck and released the dose, feeling the cool rush spread through her veins. Her headache thinned out almost instantly, replaced by a sharp, almost jittery clarity.

“Haaa… These things are pure poison, aren’t they,” she muttered with a tired chuckle. “Only for today. If I get hooked on these little bastards, I’ll end up drowning in debt instead of heading home with a nice fat savings account.”

Shaking off the last of her grogginess, she collected herself and left her room, heading straight for the virtual firing range she’d booked out for the entire day in the store’s backrooms.

Inside, an array of weapons sat waiting for her—three Gram variants and the two Hybrid-types she’d sold to Thea just days prior.

She reached for the first gun, the Gauss-variant Gram, slid in a magazine, and settled it against her shoulder.

“Alright,” she murmured, lining up her first shot. “Let’s see how these things really perform. First-hand experience always beats staring at second-hand data…”

—

It was early afternoon, and after a long, relaxing shower, Peria was now fiddling with the sixth outfit she had tried on in the past hour.

“That should do,” she muttered, nodding at her reflection. “Yeah. That should do nicely.”

It was technically just a VIP consultation—more like a private meeting between herself and Thea—but that didn’t mean looks didn’t matter. Presentation was half the job when dealing with someone that important.

‘If she were a man, she’d definitely be more friendly to me in this outfit,’ she thought, brushing a loose streak of hair behind her ear. ‘Now whether she’s into women or not… guess we’ll see. Wouldn’t be unheard of, considering she’s a Marine. Something about their freakily boosted physiology makes that whole attraction-to-everyone thing way more common, or so people say. Who knows if that’s true… But nobody dislikes something pretty to look at during a long conversation, so it’s a win either way.’

She put away her makeup and started clearing the outfits scattered around the apartment, since the rest of her prep work was finally done.

Time to head to the store, where she and Thea had agreed to meet for the afternoon. 

Peria gave herself one last look in the mirror, admiring how the tailored dark-blue blouse hugged her frame while still looking perfectly professional.

‘Yep. Worth every credit,’ she thought with a smug little smile.

It had been her first big purchase aboard the Sovereign, after several months of working at Abundant Ammunitions at Jonas’ behest. He had extolled the virtues of having something dolled-up-but-professional available for moments just like these, when important VIPs or otherwise interested parties wanted a meeting.

It had come in handy several times over the recent years, so she had definitely gotten her credits worth already.

Then her mind drifted.

‘I wonder if Thea would even be the type to look twice at a clerk like me…? She’s probably drowning in suitors by now, right? Not that I’d be interested—it’s more the muscle-y guys for me. Usually. Though I can’t deny the danger factor with her is… ridiculous. And she still somehow feels perfectly safe and cute. What a nastily alluring combin—’

She froze.

“What the fuck are you even thinking about, Peria? Get it the fuck together, girl.”

She knew the signs immediately: Booster withdrawal.

They always caused people’s thoughts to go absolutely haywire in all the wrong directions—directions that they definitely were not supposed to go in, more often than not.

And her last dose had been three and a half hours ago now. 

If she didn’t top up, she’d be a jittery mess before they even started getting into the nuts and bolts of the conversation.

One last shot to top-up with, then she slipped an extra injector into her bag and left the apartment, heading down the hallway toward the Abundant Ammunitions portal. 

The route was much shorter now after her promotion.

Stepping through, she moved from the backrooms to the front of the store, settling in near the registers to wait for Thea’s arrival…

—

Peria caught more than a few stares from her coworkers and the steady trickle of customers coming through the doors, but she ignored all of it. 

Her thoughts kept looping back through her prep, double-checking that she remembered every bit of data she had collected and where she had stored it on her datapad—not that she couldn’t just use the search function, but still. 

Saying she was nervous felt like an understatement, yet she kept her expression professionally calm, greeting people with a polite smile, listening when spoken to, nodding at the right moments.

Technically she wasn’t on duty today—Thea had paid for her full day off, after all—but that didn’t mean she could afford to trash her own reputation in the store. 

Or Abundant Ammunition’s, for that matter.

After a few minutes of lingering near the front, the attention she kept getting pushed her patience to the limit. She politely explained to yet another Marine that she was only waiting for a consultation appointment, then let her eyes sweep the storefront again in hopes of spotting Thea.

‘Please show up soon… I know I can’t complain about having shown up early on my part, but I could really use some backroom and workshop time right abou—’

“Hi Peria,” Thea said right beside her.

Peria jumped so hard she nearly tripped backwards, her heart punching straight into her throat.

“Ahh…! Sorry!” Thea blurted, looking genuinely guilty for startling her.

Peria gathered herself, though not before thinking, with pure exasperation, ‘People that tall and especially someone that fucking lethal should not be able to appear out of nowhere like that—what the fuck is the Allbright System doing to us?!’

“Thea! Glad you could make it,” she said with a real smile after taking a steadying breath. “Don’t worry about that, I was just lost in thought and you caught me off guard—entirely my fault. Sorry for the unsightly display.”

It was only then that she noticed Thea looked different from last time. 

Not only was she dressed nicely—a well-chosen green blouse that Peria immediately approved of as a certified blouse-enjoyer and a pair of tight-fitted pants—instead of her UHF uniform like last time, but she was also wearing some light makeup. 

A clean blend of eyeshadow and almost-invisible masking; nothing heavy-handed, but then again, the girl really didn’t need anything heavy in the first place. 

It showed a good grasp of her own appearance and some solid experience with makeup, which Peria instantly flagged as potentially useful future information.

‘She’s good with fashion and experienced with makeup too, huh…? Anything this girl isn’t good at?’ she thought with a quiet spark of amusement mixed with exasperation. ‘I guess I’m not the only one who figured dressing up a bit for a long meeting was a smart idea. Good job, Peria—looks like you actually nailed that call.’

Thea stood beside her somewhat awkwardly, clearly weighing how to move the conversation forward, so Peria stepped in and said, “Why don’t we head to the back? I’ve got a room prepared, away from all the busy nonsense out here.”

The girl’s face lit up and she nodded, “That sounds great! I have a lot to ask about—did you have enough time to check out the recording I sent over?”

Peria almost tripped as she led the way, not expecting Thea to just openly bring up personal dealings in the middle of the store with half a dozen customers within earshot—but then again, nothing about her suggested she cared much about professional etiquette to begin with. 

So that one was on Peria, really.

“I did, yes. Thanks to your very generous offer of payment for my time,” she replied smoothly as she guided Thea through the aisles. “It was… impressive, to say the least. I saw you used all three Gram variants; those are part of what you want to discuss, right?”

Thea nodded a little too eagerly. “Yes! I tried them all out because I wanted to get a better feel for them. I’ve tried them before, right after Integration, but never in a real-ish situation. So I figured I might as well test them properly since I had to do the DM anyway… well, not this one in particular, but a DM. And not necessarily yesterday but any day, really… Ehh… Anyway, I wanted to talk about them, yes.”

Peria couldn’t stop the smile breaking through her professional mask at the girl’s adorable rambling—though the content of her words hit her a second later, and the smile twisted into a lopsided mix of bewilderment and deep concern.

She was glad Thea was slightly behind her, so she couldn’t see her face.

‘She’s talking about killing hundreds of people like it was a simple experiment—nothing more. Like it was just a casual stroll. “Oh, just a little test, no worries,” she says, melting her own brain and breaking every gun she brought in. What kind of testing is that?! There are virtual shooting ranges, Thea! You can just go there and fire the guns! You don’t need to do… any of that other stuff!’

She wanted to blurt all of that out—and more—but she knew better.

And she couldn’t exactly fully emphasize with the realities of being a Marine either. 

Killing people was their job, just like repairing and knowing things about weapons was hers, so chiding Thea for doing exactly what her job entailed would be fairly hypocritical.

So instead, she turned slightly mid-walk and gave Thea a bright, professional smile. “That’s great to hear! I’ve prepared some data on all of them, including the detailed spec and design sheets from Starfire Armaments’ designers themselves—that one took me a bit to get, but I hope it’ll be of use to us.”

Thea’s eyes widened, lighting up instantly. “You… You got the full, detailed spec sheets from the original designers?!”

Peria nodded, unable to stop the swell of smug pride.

She’d pulled those through a favor from Irisha, another clerk she’d met aboard the Sovereign and helped transfer to a different Abundant Ammunition location on a separate ship around a year back, after certain… unpleasant issues with an overly handsy manager had made staying problematic.

‘Calling that favor in was absolutely worth it,’ she thought, watching the sheer awe on Thea’s face.

“I did. Only the best for you, Thea,” she added with a small, playful wink before turning forward again and leading her into the backrooms—toward the private consultation room she had prepared for their long talk.

Her confidence settled a little deeper.

The first reveal had landed perfectly—but she still had plenty more to show.

‘Time to earn my keep…’

[ND] Chapter 158 - The Emporium

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Chapter 153 - Options has just released on RR with no major changes.

For the Fixers, this chapter is new.

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We ended up not having the Jade x Misha chapter yet.

Things happened that needed addressing in this chapter first!

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I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is the link to the chapter:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1YjMWyK5JRX3QrKNo-V8bookltzePLbX7qB10E9IL5tQ/edit?usp=sharing

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Chapter 158 - The Emporium

Arriving at Misha’s Emporium, I was both excited and hesitant to see the Gryplik again. 

On one hand, it was Misha—which meant Misha-time, which was precious and way too rare as of late—but on the other hand, I was about to walk a tightrope made of half-truths and selective honesty. 

I didn’t want to lie outright, but I also couldn’t just spill absolutely everything. 

Not yet, at least. Maybe not ever, but I wanted to keep the door open to come clean with Misha, at the very least.

I had a rough outline of what I wanted to say, but it would ultimately come down to whatever questions Misha and Jade threw at me—and how they reacted. 

Especially Jade.

I wasn’t actually worried that Misha would suddenly hate me… though the fear was there in the quiet places of my brain.

Jade, though? Her loyalties were a little harder to read. I wasn’t entirely convinced she wouldn’t run straight to Vega if she thought it was the smart play.

‘Although even if she did, Vega and I have an understanding now,’ I reminded myself, trying to calm the jittery feeling in my chest. ‘Knowing I’m dabbling in Anima—however accidentally—shouldn’t endanger anything on that end. If anything, it might inflate my value in his eyes even further... Which will have its own associated problems, but nothing immediately dangerous.’

I took a slow breath and stepped inside through the heavy front doors.

I’d arrived a few minutes earlier than the time I’d given Jade—accident, not intent—but extra time with Misha beat extra time doom-spiraling in my own thoughts any day of the week.

The reception room was just as comfortably chaotic as I remembered. 

The clutter hadn’t changed.
The soft hum of the air conditioning system hadn’t changed.
The faint scent of clothing, oils, and long-stored tech hadn’t changed. 

The only thing missing was Misha. 

I even peeked behind the counter to make sure she wasn't “resting their eyes” again, but nope—no ball of tangled limbs and wires anywhere.

I made it halfway to the service bell when a loud clatter echoed from the store’s main room. 

Metal on metal, shifting piles, muffled muttering—that was unmistakably Misha rummaging through her hoard.

“Misha’s got a customer,” I realized, relief blooming in my chest. 

Business was good. Business meant safe income. Business meant Misha was fed, even without my recent patronage—not that I had any reason to doubt that in the first place.

I paused, wondering for a beat if barging in would be rude, but [Cultural Savant] stayed completely silent—no warnings, no social red flags in Gryplik culture about potentially walking in on a customer conversation—so I walked through the double doors without guilt.

Just like always, stepping into Misha’s store was like walking into a controlled avalanche. 

Piles upon stacks upon mounds of merchandise—shiny tech, battered relics, strange artifacts, tools that looked older than Delta itself—everything half-lost, half-displayed. 

Complete and utter chaos, or in other words: Misha’s pride and joy.

I wound my way through a narrow path between towers of goods, careful not to brush against anything unstable, and it took a few turns before I finally spotted someone through an opening in the maze.

Someone who was very distinctly not Misha.

He was a young man, maybe mid-twenties—which would put him somewhere around twenty years of age in this world, considering the longer years compared to my old life—dressed in a sleek black coat that was just a little too well-tailored to be anything but painfully expensive. 

Thin lines of golden light climbed from along his jaw up to his temples, tracing neat arcs toward a matching pair of golden eyes—only partially hidden behind perfectly styled raven-black hair. 

Nothing about him said “unimportant.”

If the wardrobe and visible chrome weren’t enough, his posture sealed the deal—straight spine, shoulders relaxed but exact, every movement measured. 

Corpo-adjacent written in big neon letters. 

He scanned the piles of Misha’s curated chaos with a kind of quiet precision that absolutely did not seem like it would belong inside a store where you sometimes had to wait for Misha to excavate your purchase from beneath three unrelated objects and a rogue plushie.

In his hand, he held a small metal device—cylindrical, matte-gray, palm-sized. 

He turned it slowly with a sort of clinical curiosity, as if he were evaluating it rather than idly looking at it, his expression unreadable and far too focused for comfort.

Misha stood somewhere beside him, her tall, lanky body half-buried in a mountain of electronics, muttering to herself in Gryplik in a way only she could pull off: Part annoyed, part delighted, part conspiratorial.

“Ah—Friend Ela!” She chirped the moment she spotted me as she took a look up from her work, her voice instantly brightening. “Ela is early!”

The young man turned at the sound of my name, eyes flicking over me in a quick, assessing sweep. Not hostile—just… calculating. 

The same way Valeria had always looked at me—at problems, not people. 

‘Wonderful… Just what I needed: More corpo shenanigans.’

Misha hopped down from the small crate that she had stood on to get a better vantage point over the chaos with the grace of a cat who’d practiced it a thousand times, landing with a thump.

“Customer is looking for something very specific,” Misha said, tilting her head toward the guy. “Something expensive. Something fancy. Something Misha can maybe find if lucky.”

Her tone made it very clear she did not think she’d be “lucky.”

The man gave a polite, tight smile. “Just browsing, really. Don’t let me interrupt.”

Yeah, right. He was absolutely here for something specific, yet vague enough in description that even Misha couldn’t promise she had it—and she knew practically every single item in her inventory by memory; as was the Gryplik way.

Still, he didn’t seem interested in me beyond that cursory glance, so I took the excuse Misha offered with her outstretched hands and let myself get ushered toward a corner of the shop a bit further away.

The moment we had a tiny bit of distance, Misha leaned forward, her voice lowered to a stage whisper that absolutely did not match the subtlety she was clearly aiming for.

“Friend Ela arrived early. Good. Misha was hoping to talk before Jade arrives. There is much to discuss.”

Understatement of the year.

“But Misha will have to finish with the previous customer first. Misha has to find customer’s request…” her voice dipped lower, no longer the stage whisper but genuinely hushed, 

“Misha is unsure of what exactly the customer wants. The customer does not seem sure either. Misha is concerned that Misha will not have what the customer is looking for, losing the customer’s business. It would not do for the greatest Gryplik merchant in Neo Avalis to fail the customer.”

I nodded along gravely.

I didn’t personally share the same religion-level devotion to customer satisfaction—years in retail in my last life had burned that out of my very soul, permanently—but for Misha this wasn’t just business. 

It was pride, identity, culture. 

For a Gryplik merchant, losing a customer wasn’t a lost transaction; it was a spiritual failing.

“If there is anything Ela can do to help, just say the words. Friend Ela will do anything for Misha,” I offered seriously.

That earned me a triple-segmented hug—Misha’s long, flexible arms looping around me with enough enthusiasm to topple a lesser person. She squeezed tight, her limbs winding around me like soft rope, before rubbing her cheek against mine in a full-body lean. The trill in her throat vibrated through my ribs; [Polyglot] told me it translated to deep affection.

“Misha appreciates Ela’s words greatly,” she murmured, “but Misha has to succeed alone. It would not do for a Gryplik to ask for help finding a specific item in their own inventory, no, no. It would not do at all.”

I could understand that—really, I could. 

[Cultural Savant] was giving me the information on it on an instinctual level, that what Misha was saying, was in-fact true. 

It would be a massive cultural taboo to ask for help.

‘There’s a loophole here, isn’t there?’ I thought, keeping my face neutral as Misha continued practically draping herself over me like an affectionate, overgrown cat—albeit one who stood several full heads taller and had to hunch down to rub our cheeks together.

I nudged [Cultural Savant], asking it to stretch that instinct a bit further.

A few seconds later, the answer slotted into my mind like a puzzle piece.

‘Right. She can’t ask for help. But if I—purely by coincidence—find the item… or coax the customer into being more specific… and she just so happens to be present for my discovery… then it counts as her finding the solution.’

A loophole wide enough to drive a freight train through.

“If Misha doesn’t mind,” I started gently, “Ela can ask the customer a few things in the meanwhile. Maybe Ela can figure out what they want, yes?”

Misha froze mid–cheek rub, head lifting just enough that all four of her eyes focused on me in perfect, crystalline alignment.

Slowly—so slowly—it clicked.

A loophole.

A perfectly acceptable, culturally blessed loophole.

“Misha would not be asking for help,” she breathed, voice almost reverent. “Friend Ela would simply… exist nearby, gathering useful information. And Misha would simply… benefit from Friend Ela’s existence.”

“Exactly,” I confirmed, trying not to smile too wide.

Misha’s entire body did a delighted full-body wiggle, limbs curling and uncurling in a ripple of joy. She released me at last, patting my head twice—like a proud, slightly chaotic auntie—before straightening to her full, towering height.

Misha’s ears flicked with pleased energy, the trill in her throat deepening. 

“Misha approves of Ela’s plan. A perfect plan. Efficient. Elegant, even. Very Gryplik in how it completely perverts the spirit of the taboo. Friend Ela would have made a fantastic Gryplik,” she nodded, each bob of her head almost aggressively enthusiastic.

A small, unexpected weight tugged at my chest at that. 

I’d learned enough about her by now, to know when she meant something Gryplik-related as a slight or a compliment, and she meant it as one of the highest compliments she could give. And knowing what I knew now—about her exile, the loneliness behind the bright merchant persona—it hit a little harder than I wanted to admit.

Still, I felt a warm little spark of pride settle somewhere behind my ribs.

I let a smile tug at my lips.

“Misha will begin searching again, while Ela conducts “The Plan”,” she declared with the solemnity of someone announcing the start of a holy ritual, before she slipped away with surprising grace for someone her size, vanishing behind a different heap of merchandise with the swiftness of a lizard diving into a rock crevice.

Which left me to deal with the mysterious not-Misha customer.

He had stopped turning the gray device in his hand and was now watching me approach instead, polite curiosity written in the tilt of his head but none of the warmth.

‘Alright then,’ I thought, rolling my shoulders once, ‘let’s see what the hell you’re actually here for, Mr. Corpo Mystery Man…’

I put on my most friendly smile—not overly welcoming, but nowhere near hostile—as I kicked things off. “Misha is as busy as ever, I see.”

He nodded once, slow and measured. “That she is.”

A beat passed. The polite kind—the kind you filled with a smile that wasn’t actually a smile. 

We watched each other in that corporate way of silently weighing threat levels, trying to see what the other person wasn’t saying. 

Then something shifted in his expression, just a little, like he’d reached a decision.

“You seem close with Miss Misha. Closer than I thought any human could possibly be.”

‘Miss Misha…?’

“We’re friends.” I kept my shrug loose and casual. “A bit of an odd pairing, I’ll admit, but Misha’s amazing and I don’t want anything bad happening to her. She’s helped me through some tough spots, and I help her wherever I can.”

His golden eyes tracked every movement—every blink, every tilt of my head, every twitch of facial muscle. A full scan, the way corpo-types did when they wanted to peel open your life like a folder and check the contents.

If I hadn’t already survived Valeria’s dissection-grade stare about fifty-trillion times over in the last few weeks, I probably would’ve folded like wet cardboard. 

As it was, I held steady without even really thinking about it.

‘Thanks for the training, Valeria,’ I thought dryly, irritation mixed with reluctant appreciation.

He was the first to blink. 

His polite smile shifted—fractionally—into something more social than tactical, and he extended a hand clad in black leather. 

“Leon Indras,” he introduced himself smoothly, voice pitched in that corpo-neutral register that somehow managed to sound both friendly and like a background threat. “Independent consultant.”

Corpo-speak for I don’t want you knowing who signs my paycheck.

I accepted the handshake without hesitation. 

Firm grip, steady pressure, no flourish. 

“Ela,” I replied.

A flicker of Instinct nudged me, and before he could fully retreat his hand, I slipped my Operator License from my pocket and offered it to him. 

“OPN,” I added casually, like it wasn’t the single best icebreaker to drop in a room full of corporate paranoia. “If you ever need anything.”

His posture eased almost instantly—shoulders loosening, chin tilting a little less sharply, eyes shifting from “threat analysis” to “professional curiosity.” 

The wariness didn’t vanish entirely, but it lowered enough that the air felt less like a negotiation room and more like two people browsing the same store.

“A licensed Operator,” he said, surprise threading through the words. “You’re… quite young for that.”

I shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “I know my way around the dangerous parts of Neo Avalis. And I’ve got some netrunning experience. Apparently that was enough for the OPN to care.”

He considered that, eyes flicking back to the License before handing it back with more respect than I expected. 

The conversation started smoothing out from there—both of us still circling each other a little, trying to figure out intent and angles, but no longer adversarial.

Precisely the state I needed him in if I was going to find out what, exactly, a guy like this was doing in Misha’s store.

There was another pause in our idle chatter—shorter this time—and as we both held each other’s eyes, the conversation finally began drifting toward the obvious question burning a hole in the middle of the room.

“So,” I asked casually, nodding at the metal cylinder in his hand, “what brings an independent consultant like yourself to Misha’s Emporium? Not exactly the kind of place I usually find the likes of you—no offence.”

Leon didn’t answer immediately. 

He rolled the cylinder between his fingers once, twice, like he was weighing how much he actually wanted to tell me. His posture stayed clean and composed, but that razor-edged caution he’d walked in with had softened into something closer to professional confidentiality.

When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, low, and very carefully measured.

“This isn’t what I’m here for,” he said, giving it a brief glance before slipping it into one of his coat pockets. “My employer assigned me to locate a set of… reports, for lack of a better term. But the problem is that these reports are buried behind a network architecture that is… inconvenient.”

He lifted a hand, searching for the right phrasing.

“I’m not a specialist in that field. I know enough to understand when a job exceeds my personal toolset. So I came to the one person in Delta with a reputation for having ‘one of everything,’ including items that—strictly speaking—shouldn’t exist on civilian markets. If anyone in Delta can supply what I need, it’s Miss Misha.”

There it was again.

He kept saying her name like a title.

Like someone invoking the power of a household god.

It made me blink for a second, because I could imagine a lot of people calling Misha many things—“merchant,” “wizard,” “miracle worker,” “hoarder with aesthetics”—but never with that kind of quiet reverence. 

It was almost… deferential. And coming from a corpo type? That was new territory entirely.

I couldn’t place it at all. 

But it tugged at the back of my mind like a loose thread I’d have to pull on later.

Leon continued, oblivious to my internal gears spinning.

“The difficulty is that I don’t know the exact specifications of the tool—I only know what it must accomplish. I need something that can breach a locked, privately maintained architecture without tripping the usual safeguards. Subtle, fast, and ideally… clean.”

Ah.

Yeah, I knew exactly what category of tool he meant.

Neon Dragons had always loved throwing missions like that at the Player. 

“Retrieve X.”
“Extract Y.”
“Walk into a secured network and try not to fry your brain while you’re at it.” 

Memories surfaced instantly; it was downright nostalgic.

There were dozens upon dozens of tools on the market that could break a private net open—but only a handful that corporate agents actually went for. They wanted reliability, stealth, and plausible deniability—preferably all in one sleek, overpriced package.

And of those corporate-specific tools that could qualify, there was only that I knew of that hadn’t been considered brand-new tech by the time the game’s story started—which was still several years in the future of my current timeline.

“Hmm…” I let the silence hang for a beat, brow furrowed like I was really chewing on the problem, even though the answer floated up in my mind almost instantly—courtesy of hundreds of hours of wiki-diving in my past life. “That almost sounds like you’re looking for something like the AD7, maybe…? Axiom Data-Lancet v7, that is.”

Leon froze.

His eyes snapped to mine—wide, sharp, suddenly very, very awake. The polite-corporate mask he’d been wearing cracked just enough for me to see the gears turning behind it.

“The AD7…?” he asked. “You’ve worked with one? Or seen it in use? How much do you know about it?”

He stepped in closer, not intimidating, but eager—like someone who’d just stumbled onto a map after wandering blind.

I very deliberately held up my hands in a small, easy gesture.

“I’m not an expert,” I said lightly. “But I’ve been around a few Operators who used one on jobs, and I’ve crossed paths with some other gear in that niche. Enough secondhand exposure to understand what it does, at least, I’d say. The AD7’s one of those ‘personal-use, vault-breacher, but don’t tell your compliance officer’ toys. Good for slicing into highly segmented data stacks without triggering the entire building’s security grid in the first second.”

I kept the details just vague enough—no internal schematics, no firmware quirks, nothing that would raise red flags about why a girl my age knew far too much about corpo-weapons-grade hardware.

Leon, however, looked like a starving man presented with a full-course meal.

“That… that’s exactly the category of stuff I’m looking for,” he murmured. “Do you know its limitations? Any operational caveats? Anything you can tell me would help.”

I shrugged, giving him the careful, curated half-truths I’d settled on already.

“It’s picky with encryption stacks, but strong against anything that doesn’t have a live runner babysitting it. Good burst capacity but overheats if you try to brute-force too wide a gate. Also eats battery packs like candy, so if you’re planning on a long breach cycle, you’d need backups.”

All technically correct. All things someone “in the vicinity” of one might’ve overheard.

Leon absorbed every syllable.

Meanwhile, movement flashed at the edge of my vision.

Misha.

The moment he had latched onto my words like a lifeline, she’d jolted like she’d been hit with a live wire. 

Now she practically launched herself toward a far pile—one of the really unstable, should-be-an-OSHA-violation ones—digging through items with frenetic Gryplik enthusiasm, long limbs sweeping aside goods that probably cost more than my life was worth in its entirety.

I had to smother a grin behind my hand.

Oh yeah. She had it.

Or at the very least, she thought she had something close enough to count—because Misha, bless her mercantile heart, did not miss a single cue when it came to what her customers really needed.

Leon mulled over my explanation for a few moments, then gave a thoughtful little nod. “That might do the trick… something in that range, at least.”

His tone had shifted—less guarded, more… relieved, almost. 

“I appreciate your expertise,” he said, dipping his head slightly. “Truly. Running into a netrunner-Operator here of all places… truly good fortune on my part.” 

He let out a breath, shoulders easing. “I only knew I needed a breach tool, but I couldn’t give Miss Misha any real specific examples of what I was looking for. She and I have been going over options for the last thirty minutes. Entirely my fault, of course.”

I bit back a smirk. Yeah, that tracked.

If you walked into Misha’s domain without knowing what you actually wanted, you were effectively consigning yourself to a very polite, very thorough avalanche of options—of that, I had no doubt.

“But now that I know what to—”

He didn’t get to finish.

Because Misha barrelled back into view like a happy tornado, hauling an armored case bigger than my torso and moving with enough speed that the piles of merchandise shivered as she passed. 

With a triumphant chirp, she slammed the heavy case onto the counter right in front of us.

The metallic thud echoed like a gunshot.

Leon actually jumped.

“Customer’s perfect item acquired!” Misha declared proudly, frills fluttering with excitement. “Misha delivers once again! Today is not the day Misha fails a customer in Misha’s Emporium!”

I had to bite the inside of my cheek not to start laughing. Misha was glowing with the kind of smug satisfaction that only a Gryplik could radiate without combusting.

So I stepped back and let the show run itself.

Once Misha locked onto her target, there was no room left for anything else—not even the oxygen in the room. Leon barely had time to flip the case open before she launched into her full, meticulously rehearsed sales pitch, talons tapping across the metal like an overture.

It definitely wasn’t the AD7 I had pointed him toward.

I had never even heard of the thing she’d dragged out, but judging by the way she rattled off specs like a machine gun—multi-stage encryption peel, adaptive lattice injector, triple-core decompiler, and some feature called recursive ghost-threading—it was basically the same tool with a different serial code. 

Maybe even an upgrade.

‘Of course she had something better. Why wouldn’t she?’ I thought, amused, watching her gesture so enthusiastically the tufts near her ears fluttered like a banner in a hurricane.

Leon seemed to think so too. 

The moment he understood what she had dragged out, his expression shifted from cautious interest to holy-grail-level relief. 

He paid before Misha was even halfway through explaining the safety protocols—classic corpo efficiency. Misha didn’t miss a beat, basking in the praise he kept pouring onto her.

“Miss Misha,” he said, bowing his head slightly in that polished corpo-way, “I genuinely can’t thank you enough.”

Misha waved him off with a delighted trill, smug in a way that made my chest weirdly warm.

Then he approached me, case in hand.

“Ela,” he said, offering another handshake, “thank you. Truly. I owe you one.”

His golden eyes briefly flashed a distinct shade of yellow as I received a transfer request notice. “My contact ID. In case you ever need anything.”

I accepted it, already partitioning the incoming data out of pure survival instinct. 

‘Not making that same mistake twice…’

I slipped it away, still wondering what he might want with me in the future.

He didn’t linger, however. 

Leon was already halfway to the exit by the time I looked up again, moving with the kind of single-minded purpose that came from finally having the missing puzzle piece in hand.

The moment the door shut behind him, Misha turned toward me.

“Perfect plan, yes. Friend Ela did very well,” she said, pride thrumming through every word.

Then her tufts stilled. Her posture shifted.

“Now,” Misha continued, voice flattening into something unusually serious, “Misha has something serious to discuss before Jade arrives. Misha is… embarrassed. And feels very bad.” 

She paused, her four eyes boring into mine with a level of self-reproach that made my chest hurt with worry.

“Misha has lost Ela’s blood…”

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[Wolf Lord+ | Draft] Volume 2 - Chapter 62 - Intel

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Welcome to the draft release of Volume 2 - Chapter 62 - Intel for y'all.

As always, a quick reminder that this chapter is still in the process of being workshopped by me and that this is simply the first-draft.

And also: Please do not read the chapters here on Patreon, but go for the googledoc, .pdf or .epub instead. Patreon butchers all forms of formatting and you're missing out on easier and more enjoyable reading experiences.

------

There is, in-fact, intel inside this chapter.

Had intended to take a day off of writing today, as is usually what I do on Wednesdays, but then I didn't.

So here's a new chapter.

Might take friday off instead.

But might not.

I'm enjoying myself right now.

------

I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is the link to the chapter:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Wmifm_NzJsLbcEDsncLGz0xgeFhJbl4nv-EMt8SFuJM/edit?usp=sharing

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Volume 2 - Chapter 62 - Intel

“Of all the gifts the Allbright System offers humanity, none are as quietly monumental—or as dangerously underestimated—as Classes. 

“Attributes push us past human limits. Skills refine our very understanding of everything around us. Our Faction Trait keeps us alive. 

“But Classes? Classes define us.

“Classes are the single most important component of the System when it comes to personal power. Not because they overshadow everything else, but because they shape and get shaped by everything else in-turn. 

“A wisely chosen Class at Tier 1 can snowball into unimaginable strength at Tier 4 or 5, while a poor one locks a Marine into a struggling foundation before they ever even realize they had the chance to touch true potential. 

“The compounding effect is brutal: Every Tier, every Class, every grown Ability matters. 

“And the ability to bring Unique Abilities from one Tier into the next is what allows high-Tier Marines to wield powers that reshape entire sectors.

“We’ve all seen the like on the propaganda reels: Those few legendary Battlefield Aces, the UHF specifically ships around and even stations at the worst hotspots in the galaxy. 

“The ones the other Factions whisper about in pure dread. 

“When they unleash their true array of Abilities—stacked through careful Class choices, carried over from Tier to Tier, woven into their Attributes, Skills, and real experience—the result is something the rest of us can barely even comprehend. 

“They aren’t just powerful; they are downright cataclysmic in nature.

“And all that starts at Tier 1 already. Before that, as a Recruit, even.

“One Class. One decision. One path that overwrites every mistake—or locks them in forever.

“Which brings me to the part nobody likes talking about.

“The UHF’s current approach to Classes, especially in Recruitment Drives, is… hands-off. 

“Too hands-off. 

“Recruits are given information, yes. Some guidance, yes. Even some private lessons and advice for the few that go out of their way to ask. 

“But no structured training on build theory, no enforced planning, no mandatory preparation on how to navigate the decades of progression in a more efficient, mathed-out manner. 

“The System lectures and classes throughout the first year barely scratch the surface, when it really comes down to it, and then the UHF sends tens of millions of new Marines out into the Galaxy armed with half-formed ideas and a vague sense of “figure it out later.”

“Is that really the best we can do?

“We all know the truth: Most Recruits will die before reaching Tier 2. 

“Everyone accepts it because that’s just how the Galactic War works. 

“But if the UHF truly values human life as much as it claims, then why let so many walk into the grinder with suboptimal foundations? Why let ignorance lock away future potential that could save lives—maybe even win battles—years down the line?

“I understand the counter-argument, I truly do. 

“Too much control risks stagnation. Too much guidance could create predictable soldiers, predictable strategies, predictable weaknesses. 

“It fuels innovation—sometimes even raw genius.

“But the cost of that innovation is truly staggering to consider.

“For every Battlefield Ace forged through clever Class choices and lucky instincts, hundreds of millions of capable, promising Marines die before they ever get the chance to climb even a single Tier.

“And so I pose the question that needs asking, again and again:

“Is this truly the kind of Faction the UHF wants to be?

“A Faction that claims to put human lives first, yet treats its entire Tier-1 force like a colossal testing lab?
“A Faction that prides itself on efficiency, yet allows avoidable inefficiencies to snuff out talent before it ever matures?
“A Faction that wants victory, but sends its most valuable soldiers into war with tools they don’t even fully comprehend, much less know how to use?

“Classes are the beating heart of the Allbright System. 

“They determine what a Marine can become.
“They determine who lives long enough to matter.
“They determine whether your name ends up on a memorial or if it becomes etched into history.

“Perhaps it’s time the UHF Marine Corps started acting like it, and stopped throwing the lives of our sons and daughters away for nothing.”

—

[“The UHF MC’s stance on Classes” — Arthen Valcor, Military Systems Columnist for the Helion Strategic Review – PFC912]

=====

=====

The remainder of the System 102 lecture went about the way Thea expected, with the flood of questions thrown at Professor Hirana—and the rapid clarifications that followed—pulling her full attention back into the moment.

Most of what was asked already felt obvious to her, thanks to her years with Terra’s games.

The whole idea that “games were modeled after real life to bypass System restrictions” was still something she couldn’t fully wrap her head around, so it kept catching her off-guard each time another mechanic she had long interacted and gathered experience with in a game lined up almost perfectly with reality.

But there were also parts of the Q&A that she found genuinely useful to hear explained or re-emphasized.

Things like Class Abilities transferring into the next Tier moving into the usual 5 Active and 8 Passive slots—meaning she’d have to free up space every single time she Tiered up if she wanted to build a large collection of Unique Abilities.

Or the revelation that some Classes didn’t offer one of the three aspects at all. 

Some didn’t have a Base Growth Rate.
Others have no Variable Growth Rate at all.
And some rare ones didn’t even come with a Unique Ability Portfolio. 

Just a heavier focus on the remaining two that they did have.

That was also something she’d seen before in Terra’s games.

‘That’s going to be so difficult to math out without proper information on a large number of Classes, damnit… I might actually have to ask Major Quinn for access to the UHF’s Class database before the end of the year… somehow,’ she’d thought when the professor explained that part. ‘How am I supposed to convince the brass that I’m not just asking for it for fun…? Should I tell them I have actual experience with this stuff from the games? But would they even care about video game experience, even ones created by Terra…?’

The last thing she wanted was to look like a complete fool in front of Major Quinn, especially after their latest talk. She owed the woman a debt of at least some professionalism now. 

And going, “Hey, I’m pretty good at this video game stuff, can I please have access to one of the most closely guarded database servers in the entire Faction for my personal use,” didn’t exactly sound professional in her head.

She pushed the thought aside for later, to mull about in the next weeks or months, until she could figure out how to approach it without sounding like an idiot to refocus on the end of the lecture.

The final point she found especially useful to have confirmed—again something pulled straight from her experience with Terra’s games—was that higher-Tier Classes could have prerequisite Class choices attached to them. 

If you didn’t take a specific Class in the Tier before it, you would never gain access to the one it unlocked. 

“Class-chains” was what she remembered them being called.

‘Another one where having prior knowledge of Classes would be invaluable…’

Naturally, there had also been a storm of questions, trying to pry details out of the professor on how exactly to acquire the specific Classes shown—especially the (Deadeye) one—but Professor Hirana shut every attempt down. 

She reminded them that there would be in-depth classes on Class selection and acquisition later in the year, and that half-baked answers right now would only do more harm than good.

That had quieted most of the hall… though not well enough to stop half a dozen more questions about the exact same topic—just rephrased in increasingly creative ways—from being thrown out anyway.

The lecture finally wrapped up with Professor Hirana once more stressing the importance of their Recruit year. 

“Do not mistake this first year as a simple warm-up, Marines. This is where you build the foundations for the decades—possibly centuries—ahead of you. Don’t take it lightly just because it feels like you have all the time in the universe to fix mistakes later. The moment you step out of the DDS and onto a real Battlefield, there are no more guardrails. 

“You are not invincible, and you are entering a war that has burned for almost a thousand years. The horrors being unleashed on those fighting grounds across the galaxy are enough to make even me lose sleep sometimes—and I’ve been doing this for several decades now.”

The room grew quiet and heavy at that, but Professor Hirana didn’t leave them on such a grim note.

“However, also remember this,” she said, her expression softening into a gentle smile. “The entire Marine Corps—and the UHF as a whole—is behind you. You are never alone in this war unless you choose to isolate yourself. Trust your squadmates. Trust your officers. Trust the brass. Much like the other Factions have spent centuries trying to wipe us out, so have we been denying them that pleasure. And you are all part of that legacy now, too.”

She swept her gaze slowly across the room, giving small, reassuring nods to anyone who looked like they needed it.

“So do not be afraid. We’re all in this together. And never forget: Shoulder to shoulder, UHF Marines stand as the strongest fighting force in the entire galaxy.”

With those final uplifting words, Professor Hirana dismissed the hall, stepped back from the podium, and began gathering her materials.

Thea and Lucas packed up slowly at first, both of them still riding the mental high of the lecture.

“Honestly?” He said while folding up his stylus and slipping it into the side of his datapad case. “That might’ve been the most interesting class we’ve had so far. Confusing, in a way, but… very good. It’s really nice to see just what we’re actually working towards, that was kind of a genius move by the Professor to include the Class examples at the end.”

Thea snorted softly as she started putting away her own pad. “Yeah. It was… kind of a lot. But I’m actually glad she explained the messy parts of this first year’s importance instead of simply sugarcoating or ignoring them entirely.” 

She paused for a second, tapping her datapad against her palm. “I do wanna stop by the Professor, though. There’s something she said earlier that I keep circling back to, but it didn’t really fit into the Q&A…”

Lucas nodded easily with a shrug. “Sure. You go do that, I’ll wait outside. Might as well stretch my legs a bit before we head back to the dorms.”

Thea shot him a grateful glance, a big smile spreading across her face. 

She was very glad he’d picked up on her unspoken question—maybe she really was starting to get the hang of this whole social interaction thing, slowly but surely. 

“Thanks. I appreciate it, Lucas.”

They wrapped up their things side by side, still chatting about random parts of the lecture—Lucas muttering about the Tier 1 vehicle-related Classes he really hoped existed, Thea half-laughing but still half-serious as she told him she already knew about a dozen of them, assuming her game knowledge was accurate to real life analogues.

Lucas made her promise—enthusiastically—to write him a list, which she agreed to without any reservation.

With that settled, they started down the stairs toward the podium—Thea already rehearsing how she was going to phrase her question about lowering her own PV, while Lucas stretched his absurdly large frame like a cat, as if sitting for a few hours in the lecture hall’s seats had somehow strained every muscle in his body.

They only made it halfway down when Thea’s habit of scanning her surroundings—something she’d consistently been doing since she remembered the importance of it during the middle of the last lecture—paid off. 

She stopped dead, cursing underneath her breath.

“Fuck, not this shit now…”

Lucas blinked, caught off guard by the sudden cursing and halt, then followed her line of sight.

Standing directly in their path—having just risen from her seat moments earlier—was the one person Thea would’ve happily avoided forever.

Rachel Veronica Masters.

Her perfect, cascading golden hair framed that familiar sneer, posture stiff enough to make durasteel feel inadequate, eyes locked onto Lucas with a look that dared him to even consider existing incorrectly—or at all, really.

“Callahan,” she began, her voice soaked in disgust.

Lucas took a long second—much longer than Thea ever would—before answering, “Yes, that’s me. Hello, fellow Marine. What can I do for ya?”

Thea watched him from the corner of her eye, though she didn’t dare take her attention off Masters for even a heartbeat. She wanted to step in out of pure instinct, to tell the Masters girl to fuck off and leave them alone, but there was nothing she could say here that wouldn’t come across as petty or childish. 

Masters wasn’t here for her. She wasn’t even really part of this conversation.

“I… What?” Masters muttered, clearly thrown off by Lucas’ lack of respect, fear or even mild recognition. She shook her head sharply. “Whatever. Listen—I would rather not waste my time, but I consider it proper courtesy to at least inform you that I have issued an official Challenge for your position as Alpha Squad’s Defensive Heavy. Major Quinn accepted it this morning, and it will be formally announced, along with the date of conductment, at the end of the week.”

Thea sucked in a sharp breath, but Lucas didn't so much as twitch.

They’d known this was coming—expected it even—but hearing it straight from the pest’s mouth gave the whole thing a weight that pressed directly against Thea’s ribs. 

It wasn’t some theoretical future problem anymore, but something very real that would require extensive work dealing with as soon as possible.

Masters’ grin widened into something sharp and smug. “I recommend you take this next month seriously and prepare properly. Not that it will help you, of course, but I would prefer you make a decent showing of our Challenge. Otherwise it will not be clear enough to everyone else that they should bother people other than me once I am part of Alpha Squad.”

Then, her eyes shifted to Thea—and to Thea’s shock, the sharpness actually eased. The sneer faded, not gone entirely, but softened in a way that felt… strangely genuine.

“As for you, McKay. I hope to maintain an amicable working relationship in the future. You have proven yourself worthy of what the UHF has bestowed upon you, against all odds and expectations. I very much look forward to seeing what we might accomplish together in the future.”

Just like that, Thea was pulled into the conversation.

A dozen sharp retorts flared in her mind, but almost none of them made it past the what the fuck? moment of suddenly being addressed somewhat respectfully by Masters of all people. 

She barely had time to inhale before Lucas cut in.

“Thanks for the heads-up, Marine. Real kind of ‘ya,” he said, and Thea didn’t miss the exaggerated drawl in his voice. “Eh… just for the record though—who are you again? Gotta match the face to the name when Major Quinn announces it, you understand.”

And that’s when it clicked for Thea.

‘Oh, you’re evil,’ she thought, forcing her face into something resembling neutrality as she struggled not to burst into outright laughter. ‘You’re one nasty man, Lucas. I did not expect that.’

Masters slowly rotated her gaze back toward him, staring like he had sprouted two—no, three—heads right in front of her. Her jaw tensed, a vein pulsing at her temple, and Thea had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself from reacting.

Lucas didn’t blink. His expression remained perfectly bland, perfectly polite and curious.

Finally, Masters managed, “You will remember my name, Callahan. I promise you that. Consider this the one and only courtesy I show you.”

Then she spun on her heels and stormed off down the stairs, leaving a small trail of confused Marines staring after her rapidly disappearing golden mane.

Lucas and Thea just stood there on the steps, both trying to process whatever that had just happened.

And then Thea started chuckling—soft at first, then slipping into full-on laughter she couldn’t hold back. Lucas cracked a grin before giving up entirely and joining in a moment later, only managing to keep a halfway serious face for about a second before he broke too.

Lucas and Thea laughed until their ribs hurt, the kind of helpless, breathless laughter that only came after something absurdly stressful. 

Thea wiped her eyes, catching her breath as she leaned slightly onto one of the nearby desks.

“Her jaw was clenched so hard I thought her teeth were gonna snap,” she managed between snickers, then pointed an accusatory finger at him. “And you—I didn’t think you had that level of pettiness in you!”

Lucas just shrugged with an easy smile. “I’ve had to deal with people like that before.”

Thea raised a brow, curiosity slipping past the fading laughter.

“Back on Quaris,” he explained, voice casual, “we kinda had this whole… caste-system thing going on, I guess. I was born in one of the higher castes, technically. Supposed to act all proper, follow traditions, care about status—blah, blah, blah.” 

He waved a hand dismissively. 

“Never really fit me. And a few of the more ‘noble’ types didn’t enjoy that I didn’t play along. Made them all look bad or something like that.”

Thea nodded slowly as he continued.

“So I spent more time with the lower-caste folks. Better people, honestly. They were the ones who took me out to the hunting grounds, taught me how to fend for myself. That’s where I learned how to do my whole Defensive Heavy schtick, too, I guess. Rinox hunts always needed someone to get the beast’s attention so the others could take them out safer.”

“You couldn’t just shoot them from afar?” Thea asked.

Lucas snorted. “Could’ve. But that’s not how we do it on Quaris. Hystasis, the god of the hunt, would not have been happy with us. There’s a whole tradition behind it too—respect for the hunt, respect for the land, respect for the creature. Sounds kind of weird when I explain it like that, but it’s just… how things worked.”

He stretched again, rolling his shoulders with a sigh. “Anyway, the hunts ended up giving me more recognition and credits than sticking to my caste ever would’ve. And that, ultimately, got me here. To the UHF, to Alpha Squad. So honestly?” 

He shrugged again, relaxed and confident. “If people like Masters want to act all high-and-mighty, that’s their own damn problem. Folks like that, treating me just like that, are exactly why I am where I am in the first place. Not changing that for her either.”

Thea shook her head, smiling despite herself, still trying to get the last of the laughter out of her system. “Well… whatever it was that made you do all that just now? It was glorious. So it’s definitely golden in my books.”

Lucas’ grin widened. “Happy to be of service.” Then it slipped away, replaced with something quieter. “All that said… the Challenge is real now, huh?”

Thea’s own amusement faded. “Yeah. It seems that way… I’m sorry we couldn’t get you better moments in the Assessment, so you didn’t have to deal with this sort of stuff…”

Lucas stared at her for a moment before shaking his head. “That’s not your job and not your fault. Don’t make it yours, Thea. It’s a bad habit. I just didn’t perform as well as I could’ve with the situations we ended up in, that’s all. No point crying over a lost Rinox—there’ll be more. There always are.”

He let out a long sigh. “Though this Challenge… honestly, it does have me worried. I’ve really been enjoying my time in Alpha so far, and I’d really hate to leave, you know?”

A sharp pang hit Thea at the thought of losing him from the squad. “I will help you prepare as best I can, promise.”

He nodded gratefully. “I’d appreciate that a lot. I don’t think I could even get close on my own. But Isabella’s been working me hard this past week already, and if I could get you to help me figure out my build stuff—maybe even show me some things in the arcade like you did with Isa…?”

Thea nodded without hesitation.

“That would be awesome. Truly. I’m in your debt, Thea,” Lucas said, dipping his head slightly.

Thea shot that down immediately. “No, no, no! We’re a squad! No owing anyone anything, what the fuck, Lucas? Shove that high-caste, owing-shit-to-others up your ass. We help each other when there’s a need for it. That’s all there is to it.”

Lucas blinked at her outburst, then let out a low chuckle, shaking his head like he’d just been scolded by a very small, very angry bird. 

“Alright, alright. Message received,” he said, hands raised in surrender.

Thea huffed, but the edge of her frustration faded fast. “Still… it’s going to be tough to actually prep for this. We don’t even know what Challenges really involve yet, at a detailed level. This’ll be our first one, so we’re basically going in completely blind. And trying to prepare for someone like Masters…” 

She trailed off, grimacing. 

“She’s had way more training than any of us in this sort of stuff. Probably taken together, even. Kinda hard to know what to train for without any idea of what the fight looks like...”

Lucas opened his mouth—probably to say something reassuring—but another voice spoke up from directly behind them.

“I might be able to help with that. If you’d be willing to entertain my company.”

They both turned at once.

A young woman stood a few steps above them, ebony-black hair framing her face in a clean, deliberate style. Soft velvet shadow around her eyes added a quiet elegance—not flashy, but unmistakably high-class at a closer look.

The words she’d spoken had been directed at Lucas, but when her gaze shifted to Thea, meeting her eyes without so much as a twitch—

Recognition hit her like a pulse-jolt.

‘Evelyn?!’ Thea’s eyebrows shot up.

It was her. 

The same girl who’d been a trembling mess asking for her autograph just the day before. 

But the resemblance stopped at her eyes. 

The hair was different, the makeup was new, the posture wasn’t even close, and the timid stammer had mostly disappeared.

This… was not that girl.

Evelyn swallowed, suddenly looking a bit more like the version Thea remembered as she stumbled over her next words, now addressing Thea directly. “I—I’m sorry, I don’t want to intrude or anything of the sorts. I just… overheard. Hard not to, when you’re in the stairway… And I… um… I actually know quite a bit about how Challenges work in the UHF.” 

She paused, then added in a quieter voice, “And about Masters. As a person, I mean. I could help with information on those topics.”

Thea narrowed her eyes at the girl, suspicion-levels off the charts.

‘The same girl that I just met yesterday, just so happens to have the exact information we’re looking for today…?’ 

Thea held Evelyn’s gaze for a second longer, the thought prickling at the back of her skull. 

The timing was too neat. Too convenient. 

Yesterday this girl had been practically shaking herself apart asking for an autograph, and now she suddenly had intel on Challenges and on Rachel Masters specifically, just as they were looking for exactly that kind of information?

But necessity nudged past her paranoia. 

If Evelyn actually knew anything about how UHF Challenges worked—and especially about Masters’ build or intentions with it—then she’d be worth her weight in damn Crysium for Lucas’ prep.

“…Right,” Thea finally said, exhaling slowly. “That’s… a big coincidence, no?”

“It is!” Evelyn blurted, hands coming up quickly in a half-defensive gesture. “I swear it’s just a coincidence. I—I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or anything; I only caught the last part when I was considering squeezing past.” 

Her voice softened, and the nervous tremble returned now that she was addressing Thea directly. “I just thought… if I can help, I should.”

Lucas looked between them, eyebrows tightening. “Uh… do you two know each other?”

Evelyn winced. “K… kind of? We… met yesterday. Briefly.”

She shifted her weight, eyes dropping to the floor as she added quietly, “I, um… I asked for her autograph.”

Lucas’ confusion melted into recognition. “Oh. Got it. That tracks, actually.”

He shot Thea a teasing smirk. “I get it—secret fan club stuff you couldn’t talk about.”

“W–What! What do you mean that tracks?! And what secret fanclub stuff?! There is no secret fanclub!” Thea snapped, then immediately turned on Evelyn. “Tell him! There is no secret fanclub!”

A beat passed, and before Evelyn could speak, Thea added weakly, “Ehh… there is no secret fanclub… right?”

Evelyn jerked in place, eyes going wide.

“I—no! There’s no secret fanclub!” she sputtered, hands lifting in a panicked little half-defensive gesture. “I just… I thought you were really cool… and what you did during the Assessment, and I… I guess I went a little overboard…”

Lucas raised both brows, struggling not to grin. “Mhm. Totally sounds like something a non–secret-fanclub member would say to disperse suspicions.”

“Lucas!” Thea hissed, cheeks heating.

Evelyn shook her head so fast her carefully styled twist shifted out of place. “There really isn’t one! I swear! It was just me being—” she swallowed hard, face flushing, “—weird.”

Thea felt something tight inside of her squeeze at that. 

“…Okay,” Lucas said at last, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Okay, fine. No fanclub. My bad.”

Evelyn let out a small, shaky breath, her shoulders finally easing.

“But I was being honest,” she said carefully, meeting both of their eyes with cheeks still burning red. “About the helping stuff. I really can help with the Challenge—and with getting you the information you’ll need to prepare for Masters.”

Thea and Lucas exchanged a silent look, an entire conversation happening without a word. 

Lucas was clearly asking for her read, and—honestly—Thea couldn’t bring herself to distrust Evelyn. 

The girl was strange, sure, but she was also painfully, downright brutally genuine.

‘That level of embarrassment aired this openly… in front of your celebrity-crush, no less,’ Thea thought, wincing. There was no way anyone could fake that.

So, in the end, she gave Lucas a small nod.

Lucas took that cue and stepped in. “Alright. What exactly do you want in exchange for your help? I assume you wouldn’t give up your afternoons for nothing.”

Thea blinked. 

She… hadn’t even considered that. She’d just assumed Evelyn was offering for free, but—of course—people usually wanted something out of a deal.

Evelyn didn’t flinch. 

If anything, she straightened, as if she’d expected the question, immediately proving Lucas’ approach completely right.

“I…” Her eyes flicked briefly to Thea, then back to Lucas. Her blush deepened. “I’d just… like to be part of it? If that’s okay? Sit in while you train. Maybe learn something. You’re both Alpha Squad, after all… it might help me figure out what I’m doing wrong.”

Her shoulders dipped with a quiet exhale before she added, voice smaller but steadier, “And I… I’d like to consult with Thea on things. When she’s not busy helping you. I’m sure there’ll be moments where she doesn’t need to focus on your training the whole time. I’d just… like the chance to talk to her then.”

Lucas didn’t move to answer—he just looked at Thea, clearly leaving the final call to her.

Which made sense. 

She was the one “paying” here, so to speak. 

But Thea honestly didn’t see it as much of a cost at all. 

Talking to someone who admired her? She’d done that hundreds of times before as MMM. 

It wasn’t difficult. It wasn’t even annoying, most of the time. It might be different in-persona like this, but it’s not something she didn’t feel like she could handle.

But learning about Challenges—and especially about Masters’ plans for them—was practically priceless right now.

So she nodded almost immediately. “Sure. That’s fine with me.”

Evelyn blinked, almost stunned she’d gotten a yes that quickly.

Lucas took that as confirmation and nodded once, decisive. “Alright then. Sounds like we’ve got a deal.” He pulled up his Interface, flicked over his contact ID, and sent it to her. “I’ll message you once we’ve got a time for our first prep session. Probably a day or two, tops.”

Evelyn accepted the ID right away, her whole posture brightening with a barely-contained jolt of excitement. “T-Thank you! Both of you! I won’t waste the opportunity, I swear… Ehh, or your time!” 

She dipped her head several, several times—far too many times—then hurried down the stairs, already fixing the strands of hair that had shaken loose from her twist mid-flight.

Lucas and Thea watched her go. 

Then quietly exchanged a look.

Lucas didn’t say a single additional word about Thea’s very obvious superfan. 

‘Bless him,’ she thought.

With that, they finally continued toward the podium—only for Thea to realize, with a small deflated noise, that Professor Hirana had already packed up and slipped out during their conversation with Evelyn. 

Her question would have to wait for another day.

Not a big deal. They hadn’t been that pressing and they’d gained far more in exchange.

And as she and Lucas stepped out of the hall together, Thea felt a sharp spark of excitement climb up her chest.

Only a few hours left until her meeting with Peria.

Guns, builds, and theorycrafting.

It was going to be a very good afternoon…

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[TAS] Volume 2 - Chapter 59 - Trust

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Volume 2 - Chapter 55 - Alpha Deployment has just released on RR with no major changes.

For the Wolf Lords, this chapter is unchanged.

And also: Please do not read the chapters here on Patreon, but go for the googledoc, .pdf or .epub instead. Patreon butchers all forms of formatting and you're missing out on easier and more enjoyable reading experiences.

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Yes, this is the TAS Chapter.

No, this is not the newest ND Chapter; they just happened to have the same title at the exact same time by pure accident.

Heading back into a lecture on the next chapter, but gonna try to see if I can use some of that "Telling, not Showing" people seem to love so much to make it quicker than usual.

We shall see how it works out!

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I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is the link to the chapter:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/18gKBheL3RTG9yiggZONeCsEtbjuaOXBYMYXrz_sT7J4/edit?usp=sharing

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Volume 2 - Chapter 59 - Trust

Interview conducted by Senior Correspondent Milene Hart, UHF Internal Broadcast Network (IBN-UHF).

Hart: “Major Varrin, there’s a lot of confusion among new Recruits about how the economy aboard a UHF Recruitment Ship actually works. Could you break it down for us in simple terms?”

Major Varrin, nodding: “Of course. The short version is this: The Digital Mission System is designed to pay for your day-to-day life. 

“One standard Digital Mission a week—our mandated minimum—nets roughly a hundred Credits, even at the lowest successful completion payout. And with the cheapest meals going for about two Credits each, you can live a full week on less than forty to fifty Credits if you’re frugal. Naturally, that includes the one free daily meal every Marine gets from the Faction as well.”

Hart, noting down information on her datapad: “So the DMs cover basic living. What about the big-ticket items—licenses, Skill Classes or private DDS alterations by the ship’s AI?”

Major Varrin smiles: “Now, that’s where Assessments, Special Digital Missions, and your own initiative come in, of course. 

“Standard DMs aren’t designed to make you rich. 

“They give you steady trickle-income—Credits, some Merit, and, most importantly, a ton of first-hand experience in combat, which you will be very thankful for once real deployments start after your Recruit year. 

“But the heavier payouts come from the bigger-ticket events.

“Partial and full equipment licenses can run from a few dozen to a few thousand Credits. A Skill Class can cost even more, depending on what you’re applying for. Anything that alters your living space inside the DDS—new furniture, expanded space, even specialized training environments—can run from a few dozen Credits and quickly climb into the tens of thousands, depending on what you’re asking for.

Hart, puzzled: “Where does all that money go? Recruits ask this constantly, especially when they see just how expensive some of these purchases truly are.”

Major Varrin breaks into a lop-sided smile: “That’s by design, actually. The Allbright System itself is the one that requires a certain baseline of resource expenditure to allow the DDS connection with itself, and in-turn, to issue Credits, Merit, and Contribution Points based on activity inside it. 

“So every Credit spent feeds back into the miniature economy that keeps the DDS running.

“Part of it goes back to the Faction, of course. Another chunk goes to the corporations that provided the infrastructure and built the equipment you’re licensing. And a small piece—usually overlooked—also goes to the very designers of those pieces themselves. 

“If they’re not Integrated, which is more often the case than not, the UHF converts their System Credits into Imperial Credits at the going exchange rate. Usually around one-to-five, give or take, depending on the current course.”

Hart, circling information on her pad: “So the economy essentially revolves entirely around the Marines here?”

Major Varrin, nodding vigorously with a broad smile: ”Exactly! Every bit of it. 

“A Recruitment Ship isn’t just a military installation—it’s an economic ecosystem built around the people training inside it.

“Nothing is wasted. Nothing exists as busy-work. 

“Every DM, every Credit, every purchase feeds into a cycle that sustains the ship, the Faction, and the Allbright System’s requirements. 

“Recruits don’t always see it, but the whole structure is built to keep them fed, housed, trained, challenged, and—most importantly—improving.”

Hart, leaning slightly closer: “There’s also a rumor that Marines who keep failing DMs get flagged. Is that true?”

Major Varrin, now serious: “Yes. The ships track performance trends. 

“A Marine who fails occasionally? Normal. Downright expected, really.

“But a Marine who fails DMs every time? That’s a red flag, no two ways about it.

“We’d have to investigate how a single person could possibly crash that many simulations. Either they’re doing something incredibly wrong, or something deeper is at play. In either case, it wouldn’t be ignored.”

Hart, nodding to herself and leaning back: “Last question, then. What would you say to a nervous new Recruit worried about money, licenses, and getting the things they need?”

Major Varrin putting on a gentle, warm smile: “Simple: Don’t panic.

“Run your weekly DMs. Learn from them. Earn your Credits, use them wisely, but don’t fret about running out. As long as you consistently take part in the DMs, as you’re mandated to, you won’t ever run out.

“And always remember that the ship’s economy isn’t built to crush you—it’s built to support you while you grow.

“Now… If you want more than the basics? Work for it. 

“The UHF is a meritocracy, so show us your merit and we will reward this initiative in kind. 

“Always have, always will.”

End of transcript.

[Excerpt from Frontline Economics: Life Inside a Recruitment Ship, PFC896]

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======

Thea could hear her own heartbeat roaring in her ears, each thud pounding like a bell inside her skull as she waited for Major Quinn’s answer—an answer to what was undoubtedly the most dangerous question she’d ever asked in her entire life.

‘Questioning a superior like this is not a great move… but it’s the best one I’ve got,’ she reminded herself over and over again, just like she had on the walk here with Kara.

Æht’s appearance and words during the Digital Mission had forced her hand.

Not because Thea believed everything that strange… thing had said, but because, when she had actually taken some time to think about it and picked apart its ramblings, too much of it made uncomfortable sense.

She had been far too open and trusting with the Runepriest.

She had no real proof he was someone she could trust on a personal level—only that he would do what was necessary for the UHF. 

And that, decidedly, wasn’t the same thing at all.

And with Æht’s warning that just being near the Runepriest put them at risk, something Thea couldn’t fully confirm nor fully deny, falling back on James’ Golden Rules was the only sensible path left.

And those rules required trusting an individual.

Out of everyone she had met inside the UHF, Major Quinn was the only one who fit all of her requirements.

She held enough rank that she might be able to act, if acting became necessary—even if she was “just” a Major, she still ran the entire Recruitment Drive, which had to count for something. And she was also the only officer who had taken responsibility for the UHF’s screw-ups so far. 

She had apologized to her. Twice, even. 

Once in-person and once through Selene, who unfortunately didn’t hold enough influence nor knew enough about the Runepriest on a personal level to truly fit for her requirements, otherwise she would definitely have been her first choice.

It really wasn’t much that Thea could bring to the fore in favour of trusting Major Quinn, but it was something. And that was about as good as she could hope for her, given her current situation.

‘If I want answers about what’s happening with me, I have to trust someone eventually. I just really hope I picked the right person… Everything’s riding on how Major Quinn reads this—how she answers, and whether she actually knows the Runepriest well enough to judge him right,’ she thought, the stress clawing at the inside of her skull like a daemon trying to break free. 

‘Please don’t lie to me. Please don’t treat this like insubordination. Please understand that I’m barely holding it together and this is me reaching out as far as I can… Please, please, please…’

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of meeting Major Quinn’s searching gaze with every fiber of her willpower and being, the legendary Marine moved ever so slightly, leaning back in her cushy armchair and letting out a heavy sigh that seemed to stem from the deepest corners of her being.

“You are, without a doubt, the most troublesome Marine I have ever dealt with, Thea,” she started, Thea’s breath stocking entirely. “The question you just asked, if you had posed it to quite literally anyone but me, would have you written up for insubordination at best. It could even be considered treason by overeager officers, Recruit… But I take it you know this already.”

Thea nodded slowly, smothering the burgeoning flame of hope within her heart—hope was a poison that smothered reason, she had learned early in her life. 

There was no place for it in a situation like this, when she needed to be attentive and listen to the exact words spoken and how they were spoken, to make future decisions that could quite literally end her life, if she chose wrong.

“Well… you’re in luck, then. Or maybe you’ve thought this through more than I expected—maybe I misjudged you a bit… But either way, I’m not going to do any of the things you’re afraid I might,” the Major said. “Instead, I’ll answer your question honestly, in the same spirit you asked it. I’m assuming you’re dealing with something you’re worried could be misunderstood as dangerous to the UHF, even though you’re certain it isn’t.”

Thea considered her answer for a moment, then nodded.

Æht was something she more or less had under control—for now, at least. 

Nothing she had experienced so far, pointed to the strange entity being able to interact with the real world unless Thea let her. 

So, as far as she could tell, it wasn’t an actual threat to the UHF.

Major Quinn tilted her head, sighed, and continued, “I’m truly, deeply sorry that things ended up like this, Thea… The fact that you even have to ask a question like this means something went very wrong along the way already. And I get why you’d feel the need to. I really do… In a perfect world, I’d now tell you that there’s no difference between what’s best for the UHF and what’s best for you, as an individual Marine. But I don’t believe that—and based on what you’ve been through, I doubt you would believe those platitudes either.”

Thea’s eyes widened a bit at the blunt honesty. 

She hadn’t expected the Major to be this straightforward about the problems in the institution she served. But, then again, this was a problem that any sufficiently large institution faced, so it wasn’t like this was a particularly large revelation to admit.

“So,” the Major said quietly, “I will give you my honest answer to your question. But you are not to repeat this to anyone unless I tell you exactly who you can share it with. Most people wouldn’t believe you anyway if you tried to accuse me of something—but even rumors would be a nightmare to clean up. This stays between you, me, and whoever I authorize. Are we understand?”

“Yes, Major. I understand,” Thea replied immediately and earnestly.

And she truly did.

Even if she was just some random Recruit, Major Quinn’s position meant any bad rumors would explode into a huge mess. And Thea had already spent more private time with her than the average Recruit would likely do in their entire career, as a result of her strange Psychic nature and the fact that she had come out ahead on the first Assessment. 

Enough time that, if someone really wanted to connect invisible dots, they might be able to give just enough weight to any rumors Thea might spread that they would become the level of headache that the Major was concerned about.

Major Quinn nodded, fingers tapping once against the desk before she folded her hands neatly on top of it. “Then here is your answer: Anrake is, potentially, one of the very few people in the UHF who would give you a chance to explain yourself, if things ever reached that point, just for the sake of curiosity alone. While he’s part of the Faction’s core—same as I am—his personal power places him far outside the reach of most of the usual hierarchy. Plenty of people try to order him around, but he rarely bothers acknowledging them.”

She shifted slightly in her chair, posture straightening as if settling deeper into the role of teacher rather than officer. “He is, for all intents and purposes, unbound by almost every regulation in the Faction, barring only the most ironclad ones that no one can defy without major trouble. That freedom means he can act on his own judgement more than almost anyone else alive.” 

She paused, her gaze flicking briefly to Thea’s focused expression. “But the question is less about whether he can, and more about whether he would.”

Her fingertips drummed once more on the desk. “Anrake is… old. And not in the way I usually tease him about. I mean that he is truly ancient—among some of the UHF’s oldest monsters. He has lived through more versions of this Galactic War than you or I can even imagine. And because of that, he has lost more than either of us could ever hope to wrap our heads around. Comrades. Friends. Lovers. Family… Entire planets and even systems, sometimes. He’s jaded—deeply so. Not out of cruelty, or apathy, but simple exhaustion.”

She exhaled lightly, almost in a sigh, though her attention never left Thea’s face. “So getting him to take personal interest in someone is… rare. Very rare. Most of the time, he simply defaults to following regulations because they’re easy. Predictable. No thought or emotional investment required. And no one can fault him for obeying the letter of UHF protocol.”

Thea paid very close attention to the Major’s unexpectedly long answer.

‘She’s taking this very seriously… good,’ she thought, a small thread of relief pulling through her chest. ‘The Old Man always said the Proprietor was someone his own pupil had been close friends with… Somebody potentially worthy of trust… Thankfully, it looks like he was right on this.’

Major Quinn’s gaze met hers again, and Thea didn’t miss the faint spark in the woman’s eyes as she held eye contact without even a hint of a flinch. The Major’s stern expression eased—just a touch—shifting into something almost fond before she kept going.

“Now, I think you’ve already given him enough reason to put in that level of effort. He agreed to take you on as his mentee right after your first meeting, after all—not something I ever expected, or even dared to hope for, to be perfectly honest. I was fully preparing myself to just keep throwing you at him until he eventually warmed up to your blunt, earnest nature, but whatever you two talked about during that first lesson clearly impressed him enough—or interested him enough—that he’s willing to spend the considerable effort it takes for him to actually care about anything or anyone.

“So… I’d say there is a very good chance Anrake wouldn’t react too immediately if you ever showed thoughts, concerns, or behavior that someone else might label as ‘anti-UHF.’”

She raised a singular finger, “Make no mistake, though: He will question you. Thoroughly. And you had better have a clear reason and a solid argument ready if it ever comes to that, because there is nobody—and I mean that literally nobody within several weeks’ travel, even through the Void—who could keep you safe from him if you disappoint him in that answer.”

She raised both hands disarmingly as if to calm Thea before the panic she could feel rose up inside of her, could even begin to set in.

“I’m not telling you this to terrify you. I’m telling you because you asked for the truth, and you deserve the full picture before making any decision on this important topic. You need to fully understand the other side of the coin you’re planning to toss: Anrake has no leash anyone can pull fast enough to save you if he decides you’re a problem.”

Major Quinn’s gaze was ironclad, holding Thea’s own eyes in a spell that did not allow for her to miss the importance of her words, even if she had tried.

“The chance of him ever coming to that conclusion is equally as low, because you would first have to be capable of causing real damage to the UHF for him to even consider you a threat in the first place. And with him literally here, on the same ship as you, nothing on that scale could even realistically happen before he stepped in and erased you from existence.

“His idea of what counts as a major danger to the UHF is already skewed beyond what either of us could truly imagine, so I doubt anything you might say—as a Recruit, especially—would even register as dangerous in his eyes. But again… if you do happen to cross that line? Then it will be the very last thing you ever do.”

Major Quinn let the last sentence hang in the air. 

She didn’t soften the last sentence, didn’t walk it back, didn’t try to dress it up in any way. 

She simply folded her hands again, leaned back into her chair, and gave Thea the space to think.

Thea stood rooted to the spot, staring at the Major but not really seeing her for a few long seconds as her mind struggled to catch up. 

The answer… the sheer depth of it—it was so far beyond anything she had expected that her throat tightened around a breath she didn’t remember taking.

‘She… actually told me everything I could ever need,’ Thea thought, utterly stunned. ‘She didn’t dodge parts, didn’t sugarcoat it all, didn’t try to redirect me, downright threaten me as a result of the question or hold back parts of the answer I might not want to hear. She actually told me everything. All of it.’

For a moment, the tension she had been holding in her shoulders since before she’d even walked into the office loosened. 

It wasn’t gone—nothing about what Major Quinn had said was in any way comforting enough for that—but the painful strain eased just enough to let her breathe without feeling like her ribs were lined with knives.

It was more than she’d dared hope for. Much more. 

She wasn’t sure she even deserved an in-depth and seemingly honest answer like that.

The mention of Anrake’s age, his losses, his strictness, the weight of responsibility he carried and the personal power he could bring to bear, both being a freeing aspect, but also a shackle around his feet—it painted a picture she’d never truly considered before in this context or to such a complete degree. 

Not of the enigmatic, impossible powerhouse and potentially life-threatening danger she had built up in her head, but of something almost… human. 

Human in the oldest, rawest sense possible.

It didn’t make him less scary; not by a long shot. If anything—if she was really, truly honest with herself—it made him even scarier in her mind than anything Æht had ever said to her about him. 

But it also made the idea of approaching him—of trusting him with something she couldn’t tell anyone else—feel… maybe not safe, but not guaranteed to be suicidal either.

‘So he might very well listen,’ she thought slowly. ‘Not guaranteed. But… highly likely, at the very least.’

She wasn’t ready to take that leap yet. Not without thinking about it for hours—maybe days. 

But she finally had something solid to think about. 

A reference point, of sorts.

And Major Quinn had given it to her without much, if any, hesitation.

Thea swallowed hard, trying to tamp down the swirl of relief, fear, gratitude, and sheer emotional exhaustion starting to churn inside her chest. She didn’t know how to voice any of it—not in a way that wouldn’t sound childish or ungrateful or stupid.

But she didn’t need to, she realized as her eyes went searching for the Major’s. 

Major Quinn seemed to understand anyway. 

The woman’s expression hadn’t softened exactly, but there was something gentler in the way she met Thea’s gaze—an acknowledgement, maybe. 

A quiet reassurance.

Thea let out a slow breath she hoped didn’t sound too shaky.

‘Even if I don’t flip the coin yet… at least I have a better understanding of the odds,’ she thought, grounding herself on the fact. ‘And that’s more than I could have possibly hoped for, coming in here.’

Thea drew in a long, steadying breath and finally spoke, keeping her voice as even as she could manage, “I… Thank you, Major Quinn. I really appreciate your help with this. Thank you.”

A faint smile—somewhere between pained and gentle—pulled at the Major’s lips before she waved it off, almost dismissively. “It’s fine, Recruit. That’s what superior officers are meant to be for, yes? Clearing up confusions, solving problems, answering the questions that would otherwise stop our Marines from performing at their best.”

Her expression sharpened again. “That said, I trust you remember the conditions attached to this answer. You are cleared to share our conversation with Anrake, of course…” She paused, then added, “and also with Recruit Karania Faulkner.”

Thea blinked at that—Kara hadn’t been a part of this at all—but Major Quinn continued before she could ask.

“I’m well aware that you consider her trustworthy, despite the short amount of time you’ve known each other. You also have a tendency to trust her judgement—even over your own in many cases. That is dangerous, I have to warn you,” she said plainly, though not unkindly. 

“But it’s not something I can fairly admonish you for. I have… similar bonds with a few people myself. It can be freeing to trust someone’s ethics and intellect that deeply.”

She leaned forward slightly, folding her hands atop the desk. “So Faulkner is also cleared for the full contents of my answer, for you to mull over together with her. I doubt you will want to try to dissect everything spoken here by yourself, after all. However, do make sure she understands the conditions you were given, yes? She’s more than smart enough to grasp the implications, and I fully trust she won’t cause problems as a result.”

“Yes, Major,” Thea replied at once, nodding earnestly.

“Then, if there is nothing else…” Major Quinn let the pause stretch, giving Thea every chance to add something. 

She didn’t. 

She’d already gotten far more than she ever expected, and her mind was too busy trying to keep her thoughts from spiraling to even consider asking another life-altering question. 

“You are dismissed. Have a good rest of your day, Recruit—and make sure to think things through thoroughly from here on out.”

Thea gave a quick, proper salute, then turned and left the office—careful to keep her pace steady so she didn’t look like she was running away, even though it absolutely felt like she was.

The door slid shut behind her, and she let out a heavy sigh that almost buckled her knees. 

A steady hand landed on her shoulder, keeping her upright, and she looked up into Kara’s eyes.

“Thanks, Kara… That was… more than I bargained for,” she managed with a weak smile. 

Before her friend could even open her mouth, Thea added, “I’ll give you the rundown in a few days. I… I have a lot to think about first. But I promise I’ll talk to you about everything once I figure things out for myself.”

Karania didn’t answer right away. 

She just met Thea’s eyes, holding the look with that calm, unreadable focus of hers. 

For a moment, Thea couldn’t tell if Kara was worried, annoyed, or trying to piece something together behind those bright, sharp eyes—not that she ever reliably could, really.

But then a small, warm smile tugged at Kara’s lips. 

She nodded once and gently steered Thea away from the office door, one hand still lightly on her shoulder as if making sure she stayed upright.

“It’s alright,” Kara said quietly. “If you want to keep some things to yourself for now, that’s fine. I’m not going to get mad or anything, we all have our own thoughts and problems to deal with. But if you need help sorting through any of it… I’ll be right here.”

“I definitely will,” Thea muttered before she could stop herself, rubbing the back of her neck. 

“I just… need to figure out how to even bring it all up properly.”

Kara’s eyebrows twitched upward in open curiosity at Thea’s caginess, but—thankfully—she didn’t push. She just gave her another small nod, accepting the answer without turning it into an interrogation.

Thea felt a weight fall off of her shoulders at that. 

For the second time today, she felt something like real relief settle in her chest. 

Both people she’d chosen to trust—Major Quinn and Kara—had actually respected that trust. 

In Quinn’s case, it had been quite literally a lifesaver. 

If the Major had pushed even a little—had asked why Thea needed to know, or what had brought it on—she would’ve been trapped. 

A direct question from a superior officer wasn’t something she could simply refuse to answer, nor something she could realistically dodge appropriately.

And Kara… well, if Kara had pressed right now, Thea doubted she’d be able to explain without oversharing something she wasn’t ready to voice yet. 

She trusted Kara entirely, of course—that wasn’t the issue. 

But she still needed to be careful in what she said, and how she said it.

They walked in silence for a bit through the Sovereign’s hallways, Thea drifting into her own head until she realized she needed a break from her thoughts before they ate her alive.

“So uh… what else do we do today?” she asked, glancing over. “It feels like there should be something, but my brain’s completely fried.”

“It’s already late afternoon, thanks to the DMs,” Kara replied, shrugging lightly. “Probably nothing unless you had something specific planned.”

“I didn’t,” Thea admitted. “Honestly… I wouldn’t mind some time to think. Maybe watch the DM recording a few times—figure out what I can improve on or something...”

Kara nodded immediately, a smile spreading on her face. “Same, actually! I was going to do exactly that and note down things as I do. I already have half a dozen ideas on how to change my triage priorities in future, similar situations… I’m honestly more excited about this than I thought I would be.”

Thea couldn’t help but break out in her own smile at that.

Seeing Karania excited about something as oddly “her” as triage priority alterations just felt right. After the full day of absolute chaos and mayhem from start to finish, it was good to see that some things just simply made sense.

They turned toward the direction of Alpha Squad’s dorms, walking together but already mentally separating their plans. They ultimately agreed it’d make more sense to take a little personal time first before going over each other’s recordings and notes in the next few days.

“Oh—actually,” Thea said as they reached the corridor where their dorms were located, pulling out her datapad. “I wanted to message Peria. I tried out the different Gram variants during the mission, and I kinda want her thoughts on some things.”

“That’s probably a good idea. Get those questions out while they’re fresh,” Kara said, nodding. “And tomorrow’s mostly free after the System 102 lecture.”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Thea replied, grinning, already typing out the message to her newest acquaintance.

She let Karania look it over first, earning a raised eyebrow and a reluctant nod—which Thea counted as a win, since she didn’t have to change anything this time—then sent the message off just as they stepped into Alpha Squad’s dorms.

The dorm was quiet, empty of the rest of Alpha Squad, leaving nothing but the soft hum of the ship around them and the welcome promise of a few hours to breathe.

They exchanged quick goodnights, both clearly ready to collapse into their own thoughts for a while, and peeled off toward their separate rooms to go over the day and their Digital Mission recordings on their own time…

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[Wolf Lord+ | Draft] Volume 2 - Chapter 61 - System 102: Class Primer

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Welcome to the draft release of Volume 2 - Chapter 61 - System 102: Class Primer for y'all.

As always, a quick reminder that this chapter is still in the process of being workshopped by me and that this is simply the first-draft.

And also: Please do not read the chapters here on Patreon, but go for the googledoc, .pdf or .epub instead. Patreon butchers all forms of formatting and you're missing out on easier and more enjoyable reading experiences.

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Kept this one's excerpt deliberately smaller, cause I knew it would be a bit of a chonker.

Describing Abilities is quite wordy, unfortunately!

Hope you enjoy this first look at Build Theory and Classes in TAS!

PS: As always, .epub/.pdf or googledoc MUCH advised! Formatting/Colours don't work here, so the Class Descriptions might be completely illegible.

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I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is the link to the chapter:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1pNvnwLa4UJXRUK9VC6t6I2ws4wOsL1dTV2piK1k_Shc/edit?usp=sharing

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Volume 2 - Chapter 61 - System 102: Class Primer

“—as a result, I was ultimately asked to fill in as an expert, even if I’m officially retired still. But with so much on the line… I get it. 

“So, I’ll be heading to the Iter sector in the coming weeks. 

“By the time you get this, I’ll probably be halfway through the assignment already, if things go the way they’re supposed to.

“Anyway, just out of curiosity—and don’t read too much into this, because I know you just can’t help yourself—are there any new findings on post-Deterioration recovery in the last two decades? Is the general recovery period still around two months, or have there been any new findings on the matter? I haven’t really kept up with the literature, but it’s a topic I’ve heard a bit about recently and wanted to follow-up on.

“Also, thanks for the Assessment report. Great reading, actually helped keep me motivated while I was prepping for this little trip. 

“But now you’ve got me curious about even more things.

“So, one last question, since I know you’re a busy man these days instead of that unruly brat I used to smack around to get your head straight:

“How’s my daughter doing, Atlas? She managed to make any friends? She’s always been… a bit strange, that one, but with the type of people the UHF pulls in every year with the Recruitment Drives, I figured she’d at least find a few who’d stick around.

“If even I managed it, there’s no way she won’t. I’ve put a lot of effort into making sure that she’s a better person than me in every regard, so… has she?”

—

[Excerpt from private long-distance correspondence between (Clearance Level Insufficient) and a command-level personnel of the UHF Marine Corps — Author: (Clearance Level Insufficient) – PFC943]

======

======

Professor Hirana rose from the comfy armchair with a quiet grunt of displeasure—which Thea could fully understand, since the chair looked downright illegally comfortable—before stepping back behind the podium and catching everyone’s attention again. 

The conversations and the lively buzz in the room slowly died down.

“Now, I’m certain you’ve all had enough fun comparing yourselves to each other, so let’s get back on track with a few additional pointers regarding your PV,” she said, sweeping her gaze across the hall as if making sure every single Recruit heard this part clearly. 

“First and foremost, never assume that it is a completely accurate metric for just about anything but a quick overview. There are myriad ways to inflate your PV without actually becoming a better Marine or combatant, so don’t assume that just because your PV is high, you’re the reincarnation of the Emperor himself.”

Half a dozen hands shot up immediately and she rolled her eyes.

“And no, the Emperor is not dead, as far as I know. It’s a figure of speech.”

All of the hands went down at once.

“Finally, let’s set a baseline for what you should be aiming for with your PV toward the end of the year. This will give you a rough idea of where you stand right now, and what kind of Maintenance and Faction Trait costs you can expect going into your first real-world deployments once you all become Privates.”

That made Thea sit up straighter.

‘I have no idea what anyone else’s PV looks like… but based on the pre-Assessment comparison with the rest of Alpha, I’d guess the average is maybe half or a third of mine?’ she thought, forcing herself to focus on the next part.

Lucas, beside her, seemed just as interested; their eyes met briefly, a shared spark of curiosity passing between them.

“Your average Recruitment Drive, at this stage,” the Professor continued, “meaning after the first Assessment and coming off the first day’s worth of Digital Missions—which I’m sure some of you have already dipped your toes into—is a good baseline for comparison. Most Recruits would now be around Level 4, with Alpha Squad and similarly exceptional Marines being closer to Level 6, or in very rare cases, even Level 7.”

A wave of excited murmurs and small celebrations rippled across the hall.

Thea, however, went still, then slowly turned to side-eye Lucas. 

He was already looking at her with a smug, much-saying grin plastered across his face.

‘That can’t be right… I know I overperformed during the Assessment, but… seriously? Three whole levels above the “rare circumstances” group?’

Professor Hirana continued, while tapping her pen on the podium, “Now, based on the reaction that got, I’m fairly sure most of you are performing above the average—and frankly, that matches our expectations. You are what we consider a real bumper-crop of a Recruitment Drive. One of the most promising the UHF has ever had, across the board.”

That earned another round of excited murmurs. 

A few Marines in Thea’s view even high-fived each other.

A small smile tugged at the Professor’s lips as she went on, “When it comes to PV overall, Recruits at your current stage would normally be aiming for the 250–300 range. But I’d imagine most of you are closer to 350–400.”

Thea’s brain simply stopped.

Lucas looked to be dealing with the same issue—mid-swallow, coughing like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

“W… What?” Thea whispered, and Lucas nodded through watery eyes, fully agreeing with her shock.

‘At least I’m not the only one thinking this feels insanely low,’ she thought, feeling a small rush of relief. ‘I’m more than four times the average Recruit in PV…? Does that even make sense?’

She thought back to the pre-Assessment, where she’d already been at 411.

Then again… she had been placed in Alpha for a reason. She’d done well in the Cube Trial. 

She hadn’t lazed around after Integration either—she’d trained, made sure her equipment was fully prepared and decked out, and filled out her Abilities long before the Assessment had even begun.

And during the Assessment itself, she’d realized she had gotten absurdly lucky with her squad, the paths they took, and the situations they had ended up in—even if she hadn’t survived any of it. 

Lucky or not, she’d still earned the Two-Star Crysium MVM award and landed relatively high on the overall leaderboards.

‘Maybe it isn’t that strange after all… Statistically, the very top of the Drive being several times higher than the average is normal—especially this early. More than four times might be pushing it a little, but I have essentially already reached the cap. The gap will close after the next Assessments since I can’t level anymore or reliably increase my Attributes right now. All my Ability slots are also full, so… yeah. I guess it tracks, after all.’

Lucas had finally caught his breath again, though his expression had quickly shifted into deep concentration by the time Professor Hirana spoke up once more.

“Now, for the end of the year—going into Tier 1—you’ll want to aim for an average PV of around 1,500. Normally, we encourage Recruits to shoot for 1,250, but since you’re all part of a bumper-crop Drive, we’ll be expecting a bit more from you, naturally.”

The teasing lilt in her tone earned a round of chuckles and a few confident shouts of “You got it!” from the audience. Professor Hirana nodded approvingly, smiling faintly. 

“I’ll hold you all to that.”

Then, with a small shift in posture and a spark of anticipation in her voice, she moved to the topic Thea had been quietly waiting for the entire time. She had to consciously stop herself from literally bouncing in her seat in anticipation. 

Much to her surprise, Lucas looked just as eager, his previous concentrated expression having immediately been replaced by visible interest as she sat up straighter—as if he really needed to tower over Thea any more than usual.

“Now,” the Professor began, “with our discussion of Maintenance, your Faction Trait—which will have an entire course of its own later this year covering more specific and nuanced examples of its uses and the Upgrades available for it upon Tier advancement—and your PV goals and standings out of the way, let’s move on to our final topic of the day. It’s one that always gets the most attention, which is exactly why I saved it for last—to make sure all of you stayed awake until now.”

That earned a few groans, but mostly laughter.

“Let’s talk about Classes in the Allbright System,” she said, her voice lifting slightly with enthusiasm. “They’re the foundation of your future progression beyond basic Levels once you reach Tier 1. I’ll only be giving you a primer today—there will be plenty of in-depth lessons on this later—but I think it’s important you understand what you’re actually working toward this year, and what kind of possibilities might be waiting for you when you finally get to the graduation ceremony and the following Class-selection period…”

—

By the time the next break rolled around, Thea was practically panting, barely able to contain her excitement about everything they had just learned about Classes. 

Her mind was spinning in every direction at once, so fast it made her feel light-headed.

“Hmm… I’m really hoping the future classes will give us more to go off of. This was a bit too broad to be useful,” Lucas muttered beside her—more to himself than to start a conversation, but Thea’s brain grabbed onto the words like a lifeline. 

Something to anchor on and focus her thoughts towards.

“She already gave us so much though!” she burst out, startling Lucas with the sheer enthusiasm—and the slightly too-loud volume that thankfully blended into the hall’s ambient chatter.

“She… she did?” Lucas asked.

“She did! There was so much in there, Lucas! I don’t even know where to start. Or how. I—I’m trying to think straight here, but it’s hard right now,” Thea admitted, forcing herself to take a few deep breaths to settle down.

She hadn’t been this excited to learn something in… honestly, maybe ever.

Lucas, patient as always, let her take her time. He shifted toward her a bit, giving her his full attention, clearly ready for the lengthy conversation he knew was coming.

And, mirroring their earlier conversation—where Lucas had enthusiastically broken down the vehicles for her—Thea tried to return the favor by breaking down the Class rundown for him. 

He clearly wasn’t seeing the sun for the stars and she felt obligated to try.

It wasn’t so she could voice her myriad thoughts into the ether, so her mind stopped spinning—definitely not.

“So… just from what she told us, I can already tell this whole Class-system is a lot like some of the games I played back on Lumiosia. In the arcade,” she began, watching Lucas’s eyes widen a little as he caught onto her meaning immediately.

“In particular, it mirrors a lot of what Ashes of Centuries did with perks and specializations, and also how Krillson’s Paths handled Classes—minus the parts that leaned more toward Psyker stuff, of course. And Invictus Fall? That one’s probably the closest to how the Allbright System seems to work with Classes overall. If you mix all three systems together, and maybe toss in a few ideas from other games like Onegate’s level-up rules, it’s extremely obvious Terra has been easing people into these concepts for ages!”

Lucas stared at her, blinking slowly before giving a very deliberate nod. “Right… very obvious… Mind explaining what that means for the rest of the Recruits in the room? Since they are clearly not as smart as the two of us and wouldn’t know what that all means…”

Thea didn’t have the mental room to get annoyed at the teasing and clowning tone in his voice; she was too busy trying not to explode from sheer excitement. “It means the whole damn Class system is basically what I’ve been using my entire life to make builds, Lucas! This stuff is second nature to me!”

She slid her datapad closer to him, tapping and scribbling across the screen as fast as her hands could move, drawing lines of numbers and little arrows.

“Look—what the Professor said is that there are three main things to consider when choosing a Class, right?”

Lucas nodded.

“First, you’ve got the Base Growth Rate. That’s a flat bonus to certain Attributes every level. Think of it like extra Attribute Points you don’t get to choose—whatever Attributes the Class boosts, you will be getting boosts in them. Like, say a Class has a BGR of 4 split between Finesse and Resolve. That’s +10% in both every level, on top of whatever you invest normally.”

She marked the example in red on the datapad, labeling the Attributes to give him a clearer picture.

“So… we want the BGR of the Class we want to take, match what we’d naturally focus on already, right? Like Vitality and Strength for me?” Lucas asked, rubbing his chin as he studied the numbers.

“Yesn’t!” Thea said immediately, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm.

Lucas gave her the most unimpressed look she had ever seen on a human being.

“Because,” Thea went on quickly, “we still have the other two parts to factor in! The second one is the Variable Growth Rate. And like the name says, it works like the BGR—but instead of being tied to specific Attributes, it just hands you a chunk of points you can toss wherever you want.”

“That’s just straight-up better, then,” Lucas said.

“Yesn’t!”

“If you do that again, I’ll pick you up and put you on top of a tall cupboard in the dorms,” he said calmly.

Thea froze. “W—What?”

That was Lucas. Lucas threatening to stash her on high furniture like a toddler. 

Her height—an above-average blessing for an undercity girl, mind you—did not deserve this level of slander.

“T-That was a joke, right?”

Lucas just stared at her with a completely blank, serious face. 

To distract him from his brutally violent tendencies, Thea quickly elaborated on her earlier point.

“S… So, when it comes to choosing a Class, you don’t just look at one of the aspects. You have to find the one that gives you the best overall benefit for what you’re trying to do. Well… Saying that you just go for the overall benefits is also… That’s not entirely true—there can be specialist builds or very specific tactics that change things but—actually, never mind. I’ll just talk about the last point and then give an example,” she said, cutting herself off before she could drift into another full-blown rant. 

It was a bad habit, one she’d tried to kill for years, but the moment build-theory came up, it always clawed its way back.

“For the third aspect, we kinda need to wait until the break is over and the professor shows us the actual examples, but if they’re anything like Terra’s games, then this might end up being the most important part. It’s the Unique Ability Portfolio the Class gives you.”

Lucas nodded. “Yeah, I can see that being massive. Just seeing some of the Abilities out there during the Assessment and yesterday’s DM was… eye-opening. I really need to figure out what Abilities I’m actually aiming for before I even think about picking something...”

“Exactly!” she said, grinning and pointing both index fingers at him. Finally, he got it! 

“Especially since, like the professor said, the Class Ability Slots don’t interfere with the ones you already have. So if your whole build leans on something like Stamina, Focus, and Recovery, then picking a Class with a huge Unique Ability Portfolio—one that gives a bunch of extra Abilities—could be way more valuable than just raw Attribute bumps.”

Her voice kept climbing in speed and pitch, excitement bleeding through every word. “And! When we Tier-Up at the end of each bracket, we actually keep one of the Abilities and bring it into the next Tier! It just gets moved into our normal slots, exactly like the professor said! It’s literally just like in Krillson’s Path, Lucas! We can mix and match our own Class over time, across all the Tiers we’ll be hitting!”

Lucas raised both hands in a quiet “ease up” gesture, leaning closer so he wouldn’t have to speak loudly. “Thea. Breathe. People are starting to stare.”

She froze, then clamped her mouth shut and nodded way too fast, cheeks heating as she forced herself to sit back down properly, not knowing when she had even gotten on her feet. 

A few curious glances from nearby Recruits drifted away as she did so.

Once Thea seemed less likely to rocket out of her chair, Lucas lowered his hands again. 

“Alright,” he murmured, keeping his voice even as if any show of enthusiasm in the topic could set Thea off again—which, fair, “you said something earlier—about different build options. That you can’t just look at the three numbers and pick whatever is highest. That’s… not obvious to me at all.”

He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing in thought. “From where I’m sitting, it seems like you just pick the Class with the highest mix of Base Growth, Variable Growth, and an Ability Portfolio that seems good. Highest overall value wins, right?”

Thea shook her head vigorously, her excitement returning—but this time more contained. 

“No, no. That’s the trap, you see? It’s not about the absolute numbers. It’s about what you’re trying to do with your build. Your end-goal determines the value even at the start.”

Lucas frowned slightly. “Explain.”

Thea took a deep breath, then pushed back into the explanation from earlier. 

“So, when it comes to build theory, there’s this really common misunderstanding that you should focus on one of two things: Either you maximize for the short-term or you maximize for the long-term. Like… you either grab every early advantage you can so you can snowball hard, or you sacrifice your early power to get some huge payoff down the line.” 

Lucas stroked his chin, nodding along.

“But that’s factually wrong. You really don’t want either of those to be the foundation of your build,” Thea said, shaking her head so firmly it was almost aggressive. “What actually matters is having a clear goal—knowing exactly what you want your build to achieve—and focusing only on the pieces that help reach that goal. Nothing else.”

She pointed at the datapad, drawing a simple line under her next words. “Say your focus is T1 Battlefields. What’s the point of picking a so-called ‘long-term’ Class that gives tons of BGR, but completely tanks your VGR and Ability Portfolio? You’re never getting another Tier-Up within T1. Those sacrifices never turn into anything. But that’s obvious, right? So what if we just focus short-term, because we’re only getting one Class? Just take as much BGR and VGR as possible and call it a day? But then you’re missing out on any Unique Abilities forever. So short-term gain is not an option there either.”

She drew three examples neatly onto the datapad: T1 focus, T2 focus, and T3 focus.

“If you’re targeting T2 Battlefields, you get a little more room to play around, since you’ll switch Classes at the Tier-Up. The stuff you gave up in T1 might finally pay off. But even then, you might have been better off choosing a Class with a very strong Unique Ability Portfolio instead, since you’d get to carry one Ability into T2 and stack it with your new Class.”

On the T2 example, she added two diverging paths, each one ending in a question mark—unknown results waiting for the right combination.

“Finally, if you’re focusing on T3 Battlefields, the most obvious choice would be long-term gains in T1 and T2, with short-term benefits in T3. But that still doesn’t make much sense when you look at the bigger picture of progressing through each Tier. If you dump the first two Tiers just for long-term returns, what guarantees you’ll even reach the third? And what if there’s an incredible Unique Ability Portfolio in T1 and T2 that would pair perfectly with a Class you want at T3? You’d be throwing that away just because you picked the “low-hanging fruit” options that seem smart on the surface.”

Thea drew out all the corresponding decision lines and marked them with different colours as she continued to speak about the topic, drawing a rapidly growing, interconnected web onto the datapad.

It grew surprisingly quickly into something that was hard to even keep track of.

“So… in the end, what really matters is information. First and foremost. You want as much info on all the Classes, from all Tiers—their BGR, VGR, and UAP—as you can possibly get. Then you compare everything across all the Tiers, match it to what you want out of each Tier, and look at the whole plan from both a macro and micro perspective. Don’t sacrifice an entire Tier or you might get stuck there, but don’t blindly grab the biggest short-term perks either. Now, if the information is not available, you have to make balanced decisions in each Tier, instead. Choose UAP’s that seem broadly synergistic with a lot of potential options out there, while keeping your BGR and VGR varied enough to not tank anything.”

She finally stopped talking and took a much-needed breath, glancing back up at Lucas—only to find him staring with raised brows and wide eyes.

Heat crept up her neck as she winced. 

She had definitely overdone it.

But before she could mumble an apology, Lucas’ expression softened into deep thought… and then split into a broad, toothy grin.

“I’m so damn glad to have you as our Official Build Advisor, Thea,” he said with a chuckle, and her head snapped up. “You’re insanely good at this. I wouldn’t have thought of half of what you just explained—and I’m guessing that was just the easy, surface-level version, huh?”

Thea blinked, surprised he wasn’t teasing her for info-dumping like a maniac. 

But he wasn’t wrong about the surface-level part, so she quickly nodded, cheeks warm.

His grin broadened. “That’s awesome. You’re amazing, Thea. I’ll definitely be checking with you before I pick anything… I just feel bad for the rest of the Drive, that they won’t have you to consult on a regular basis.”

Lucas leaned back in his seat a little, still wearing that lopsided grin that made it hard to tell whether he was impressed or just amused. “Seriously, the rest of the Drive has no idea what they’re missing. If everyone got breakdowns like that? Half of them would probably break out in tears of joy.”

Thea let out a tiny, breathy laugh at that, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Maybe… maybe it wasn’t too much, then,” she muttered, more to herself than to him.

Lucas shrugged and chuckled. “It was good. Detailed, yeah, but very good to learn. Kind of a bit like I hope you did earlier with my whole vehicle talk, eh?”

That thought hit her harder than it should have.

Because… right.

That was exactly what Lucas had done earlier—gone off about treads, armor ratings, maintenance quirks, the whole nine yards. 

And she hadn’t felt overwhelmed or annoyed or anything even close to it. 

She’d actually liked hearing him talk about something he cared about. 

It had been very nice. Relaxing, even.

So maybe he felt the same way now.

Maybe most people weren’t silently judging her every time she got excited and went all-in on a topic.

Maybe they were just… learning from her.

Enjoying it, even.

She’d have to ask Corvus later—he was the social expert and he’d give her a direct answer, even if it stung—but the more she mulled it over, the more it just made sense. 

Lucas hadn’t overshared earlier. He’d just shared. 

And she hadn’t felt pressured or annoyed for even a second.

So why assume he felt any differently about her elaborating on something he had specifically asked for in the first place? How did that make any logical sense at all?

Finally, Lucas leaned forward again to study the chaotic tangle of lines Thea had drawn on the datapad, tilting his head here and there like the picture might suddenly make more sense from a variety of different angles.

“I still don’t think I really get it, you know? Like, intellectually I understand what you said, but I can’t put my finger on anything concrete yet… I might need a few more direct examples,” he admitted, fingers automatically drifting to his chin again as he mulled it over. “Hmm… Maybe we should ask the rest of Alpha to hit the arcade with you, and you can walk us through your thinking using one of those games you keep mentioning? Ashes of Centuries, Krillson’s Path—whichever fits best?”

Thea’s eyes went wide.

“That’s a great idea! We totally should!” she said at once, already making a mental note to bring it up with Corvus—and to ask him about that earlier thought too.

A strange, strangled squeal sounded from behind her and to the right. 

This time, after hearing a few similar noises during her whole rundown for Lucas, she finally turned to look. 

She caught only a flash of ebony-black hair ducking beneath a table.

‘Did they drop something…?’ she wondered, narrowing her eyes slightly. From this angle, lower in the hall than the other Recruit, she couldn’t even tell who it had been.

Before she could think on it further though, Professor Hirana’s voice pulled her attention back to the podium.

“Welcome back from break, everyone. I hope your discussions have been fruitful and you’ve had some time to digest what I’ve said about the Classes so far. Let’s get to the truly fun part and look at some examples of potential Classes you can expect to pick up toward the end of the year, shall we?”

The datascreen behind the professor split into two sections, each displaying the details of a Class. 

Thea’s eyes widened instantly, trying to absorb every word at once.

“For the first example,” Professor Hirana said, “we’ll start with what is considered among the most popular Class among UHF Marines. A classic all-rounder—excellent upward mobility into the higher Tiers thanks to solid foundations in BGR and VGR. The UAP is a bit lackluster in the higher Tiers, admittedly, but you really can’t go wrong with a strong baseline like this. At the very least, the Unique Ability will make it easier to get to those higher Tiers, hence the popularity of the Class.”

[Class Information]
Class Name: Frontliner
Rarity: Iron
Base Growth Rate: 4 - 2/1/1 - Strength/Finesse/Vitality
Variable Growth Rate: 2
Unique Ability Portfolio: 1
Unique Class Ability: (Passive) [Frontliner’s Luck]

[Passive (Iron - Class) - Frontliner’s Luck - Level 0]
Description: Automatically redirects a potentially devastating hit slightly to the side.
Devastating Hit Threshold: Lethal - Redirection Range: 5mm - Cooldown: 15 Minute(s)
Growth: Devastating Hit Threshold (Lethal -> Grievous -> Debilitating / 10 Level) - Redirection Range (+1mm/Level) - Cooldown (-30 seconds/Level)

“Now for the second one, I figured I’d show you something from the opposite end of the spectrum—more of an aspirational reward for some of you,” the professor continued, shifting everyone’s focus to the second Class on the screen. 

“This one is a rare pick, usually only within reach for Alpha or Beta Squad members, unless some of you really push yourselves. But who knows? Maybe seeing it here today will motivate you to work a little harder in the future DMs and Assessments, yes?”

[Class Information]
Class Name: Deadeye
Rarity: Gold
Base Growth Rate: 3 - 1/2 - Finesse/Perception
Variable Growth Rate: 2
Unique Ability Portfolio: 2
Unique Class Abilities: (Active) [Deadeye’s Lock-On], (Active) [Deadshot]

[Active (Gold - Class) - Deadeye’s Lock-On - Level 0]
Requirements: Line of Sight
Description: Allows the Deadeye to lock onto a target within line of sight after a short focus period. Once locked, the target appears outlined to the Deadeye, even through walls or other obstacles up to a certain Material-Tier. The outline lasts for the full remaining duration of the Ability, the maximum number of locked-on targets is exceeded or until the target dies, whichever comes first.

Cost: 50 Focus + 50 Stamina - Lock-On Timer: 15 seconds - Maximum Locked-On Targets: 1 - Material Tier Limit: 1 - Ability Duration: 5 minutes
Growth: Lock-On Timer (-0.5s / Level) - Maximum Locked-On Targets (+1 / 10 Level) - Material Tier Limit (+1 / 20 Level) - Ability Duration (+ 30 seconds / Level)

[Active (Gold - Class) - Deadshot - Level 0]
Requirements: Line of Effect, Deadeye’s Lock-On OR Equivalent Ability
Description: Allows the Deadeye to loose a perfectly accurate shot at a locked-on target within a set maximum distance. The shot will pierce through any obstacles in its path up to a certain Material-Tier without impediment, striking the target’s vital point with guaranteed precision.
Cost: 100 Focus + 100 Stamina - Distance: 3km - Material Tier Limit: 1 - Vital Point: Heart
Growth: Distance (+ 350m / Level) - Material Tier Limit (+1 / 20 Level) - Vital Point (Heart -> Brain -> Faction Trait, if applicable / 10 Level)

Thea’s breath caught as her eyes ran down the list of Abilities—real Abilities, not hypothetical examples or vague descriptions. 

Actual, concrete powers that a Tier 1 Marine could wield.

Her heart thudded harder the longer she stared.

‘This… This is a T1 baseline? This is what basic Classes can give you?!’

Her eyes traced every line of the Frontliner and Deadeye’s toolkits. 

Attribute boosts. A guaranteed survival against a lethal strike every few minutes. Target marking through walls and everything. A penetrative, vital-point strike that ignored practically everything between her and the target, regardless of weapon type; that, based on its wording, could even lengthen the normal shot distance of a weapon.

A strike that could even auto-target Faction Traits at max level?!

It was downright overwhelming.

Not frightening persay—but overwhelming in the way standing at the edge of a vast, new frontier was.

She swallowed hard.

‘If this is what even starting Tier 1 Classes looks like… What the fuck does the rest of the ladder look like? What about Tier 2? Tier 3? Higher…?’

An almost electric excitement crawled up her spine.

Lucas let out a quiet, impressed whistle beside her, but Thea barely heard it.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the screen, even as she furiously copied everything word-for-word and number-for-number onto her datapad…

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[ND] Chapter 157 - Trust

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Chapter 152 - Remuneration has just released on RR with no major changes.

For the Fixers, this chapter is new.

-----

Back to Sera-shenanigans in the world!

Time to tie up loose ends...

-----

I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is the link to the chapter:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1nvEY5xIRv5kJ1tN_qZNMrjvhRfkRA5_JlWQTByDo4Vo/edit?usp=sharing

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Chapter 157 - Trust

Walking through the 43rd floor felt off in a way I couldn’t quite pin down. 

I’d run these halls a hundred times, if not more—morning exercise routine, stumbling home bleeding like a stuck pig, getting around Delta in general—but starting from a different apartment threw the whole layout sideways. Everything looked familiar, but it didn’t feel familiar, like someone had nudged reality half an inch to the left when I wasn’t looking.

Which… Technically was just about as true as anything—except we had gone right, instead of left, if we looked at it from the main entrance of Delta.

I kept well clear of the path that led toward the old apartment during my wandering. 

I wasn’t in the mood to see whatever cratered nightmare the hallway had become after yesterday. The last thing I needed was an emotional flashback to being tortured on the damn living-room carpet. 

While my Rest Function took care of all my physical issues, I had no reason to believe it did jackshit for the psychological side of things—and if yesterday hadn’t left some nasty scars inside my psyche… Honestly I’d be much more worried about that outcome than if it did leave something.

Before leaving the apartment, I’d double-checked the security feed—just to really confirm that the EtherLabs officers Valeria had stationed outside were gone. I wasn’t in the mood for any lengthy explanations of potential misunderstandings right now.

‘Especially with [Double Life]… If they mistake me for Ela here, I’m absolutely cooked,’ I grimaced internally. 

No amount of smooth-talking would patch that kind of plot-hole.

I kept myself firmly in "Sera-mode" despite wearing Ela’s clothes—voice, stride, posture, focus. The Perk only kicked in when I actually acted like Ela, but given my recent track record with accidental disasters, I figured being overly cautious for once wouldn’t kill me outright.

Navigating from this side of the floor took longer than usual. 

The layout wasn’t complicated, but I’d never bothered with this end before, so every turn felt like an unfamiliar detour. Thankfully, Delta had info panels shoved into nearly every intersection, so after a few minutes of following glowing arrows and floor schematics, I found my usual elevator.

On my way down to the 16th floor, I made sure to consciously flip my persona to Ela, letting [Double Life] swallow up the edges of Sera until I was wearing my second skin. 

It wasn’t quite as easy as flicking a light switch—or my Ego switch, for that matter—unfortunately. 

It took real, deliberate effort to settle into the right mindset. 

As similar as I acted in either identity, there were tiny differences baked into the way I moved and carried myself, stuff the Perk had pointed out when it had first settled into my skull. Aspects that I had to keep up at all times, consciously or subconsciously, for the Perk to identify either of my persona’s as being properly assumed.

Aspects such as Ela walking with a bit more confidence than Sera did. 

That had been the main, non-verbal distinction, something shaped by necessity on that very first day I’d stepped outside the apartment—weak, unsteady, and doing everything I could to pretend I wasn’t. I’d forced myself to walk like I belonged, like I wasn’t one unlucky shove away from face-planting and breaking every bone in my body. 

Back then it had been pure survival instinct: Look weaker than you already were, and someone would take that as an invitation to test you. 

And I’d had zero ability to fend off anyone who tried.

Weeks later now, that fake confidence had hardened into something real, I couldn’t deny. 

Between the Attribute Upgrades, the drip-feed of combat experience from both real-life events and the Arkion Dojo’s intense sessions, as well as the unnatural poise that [Elemental Balance] wrapped around every single movement, Ela’s steps had become sure and grounded in a way that Sera’s never were. 

I leaned into that posture now, straightened my spine a hair more than usual, and let the rhythm of my gait settle into something fluid again.

‘And gods, my posture is better than it’s ever been in either life,’ I thought with a faint smirk, straightening even further until my spine felt like a steel rod wrapped in silk.

By the time the elevator doors slid open onto the 16th floor, Ela was fully in the driver’s seat, and Sera was tucked neatly out of sight where she belonged for excursions like this.

It didn’t take long for me to slowly find my way to Mr. Shori’s place. 

The mid-day bustle on the thoroughfare washed over me like a much-needed reset button, steadying my nerves more than I wanted to admit. Something about being surrounded by normal people—or about as normal as Neo Avalis and Delta had to offer—doing normal things grounded me in a way nothing else likely could have.

The shop was packed—as always around this time—lines curling in on themselves while the old man behind the counter conjured bowl after bowl of ramen like some grease-stained wizard. He bounced between languages mid-sentence without even blinking, tossing out jokes and comments, while keeping track of every shouted order thrown his way like it was nothing.

‘Always a marvel to watch the master at work,’ I thought with a smile as I slid through the crowd. ‘Would be awesome if I could be even half as good at anything as he is at this whole ramen thing… Maybe one day.’

I slipped into the back and found my usual apron and work clothes waiting in their spot. 

For a second I wondered if he somehow knew I’d come in today, or if he just laid them out every morning on the off chance I did wander in. 

Either way, I threw them on quickly.

Not a minute later, I heard him raise his voice over the crowd.

“I check kitchen, will back in five minutes, yes? Not leave line. Food for all is no problem!”

A chorus of “yes chef!” and “okay boss!” in half a dozen languages, coupled with a handful of dramatic groans rippled through the line. 

Then his head popped through the curtain, eyes scanning—until they landed on me. 

They went huge.

He practically charged me.

I jerked back on instinct, startled, but he wrapped me up in a tight hug that smelled of frying oil, cooked algae, broth, and soy—like comfort and deliciousness incarnate.

I froze completely, unsure where to put my hands or what was even going on.

“Ehh… M—Mr. Shori…?” I managed to press out.

“Ela, you fine, yes?” he asked immediately, pulling back just enough to hold me at arm’s length. His sharp eyes swept me up and down, checking for any and all signs of distress and injuries like he had a scan-tool built into his retinas.

Before I could conjure up any kind of response, he already slipped into Japanese, the way he always did when English failed him:

“{I received your mother’s message yesterday and have been worried what might have led to it being sent. Did the Clawed Beasts make trouble for you? I remember you and the Gem—girls with Jade having a scuffle that one time. Or was it the damn Red Snakes…? Did they finally decide to get revenge on me selling them out to the Clawed Beasts, by going after you?}”

There was a distinct thread of anger woven through his last words, sharp enough that I immediately lifted both hands in a placating gesture.

“No, no! It’s fine, Mr. Shori! Really,” I rushed out. “It wasn’t because of them… And, uh—whether I’m okay is a whole other question. Physically, I’m fine now, but it’s been… a really rough few days. Let’s put it like that.”

I tried a crooked smile to soften it, but it barely made a dent. 

Instead of loosening his grip, the old man hauled me right back into another hug, squeezing tight enough that I briefly wondered if the System needed to hand out rib-reinforcement perks.

“{I am relieved to hear that, Ela… Truly. I was worried you had not sent the message yourself—that something had happened and you were grievously injured enough to require somebody else to inform me or something of the sort. But seeing you now… You look healthy. If you need to talk about what happened, I will listen—after the mid-day rush, if possible. I can close the shop now though, if you need, of course.}”

The last line dropped like a weight—an offer so unexpected and earnest it almost hurt. 

But there was no universe where I’d let him shut down his entire livelihood, even if for a day, just because I’d had a bit of a day to work through. Not to mention being so overwhelmed by the old man’s outpouring of genuine concern and support, that I doubted I could’ve gotten any real words out about what had happened anyway.

A lump built in my throat and I had to clear it before I could manage a small, shaky, “After is fine… Thank you, Mr. Shori.”

It was all I could get out before my voice threatened to crack clean in half.

Mr. Shori held on for a few more seconds—just long enough for my brain to finish melting into a puddle—before he finally stepped back, giving me one last once-over. Whatever he saw must’ve satisfied him, because he gave a firm nod, wiped his hands on his apron, and snapped straight back into chef-mode like someone had flipped a switch.

“Ela,” he said, already pivoting back toward the divider in the centre of the kitchen with that determined shuffle of his, “Need two more broth pots before rush end, yes? And algae-noodle—three kilo. Also knives not good anymore. You sharpen?”

He rattled it off like a shopping list he’d memorized ten years ago.

I couldn’t help smiling—big, genuine, and stupidly relieved. 

This was normal. This was safe. 

These were tasks I understood and could actually succeed at without risking death or getting tortured or cut up by mega-corp goons. 

Just honest work with the kindest old man in the whole damn world.

“Yeah, I’ve got it,” I said, nodding with more enthusiasm than was probably necessary.

“Good! Talk later!” he barked, already half vanishing through the divider.

A wave of cheers and shouted greetings erupted the second he stepped back behind the counter, like his presence powered the whole place. 

The old man answered a half-dozen customers at once, straight back to flinging noodles with one hand and bowls with the other like he hadn’t just taken an emotional break.

Following his example, I slipped into kitchen-mode proper, grabbed the sharpening stone, and pulled the first of over a dozen knives from its magnetic strip. 

The familiar weight settled into my hand like it belonged there.

Just a bit of kitchen work. 

No corpo-war horrors. 

No Sprites rewriting my body. 

No Valeria staring me down like I was a particularly chatty lab sample.

Just me, a whetstone, a stack of blades that needed attention and a few pots of broths and algae to cook.

Honestly? This was exactly the kind of stuff I needed right now...

—

A couple hours later, Mr. Shori started closing down shop for the early afternoon, same as always, giving himself that tiny quiet window to prep for the evening rush. 

This time, though, instead of wishing me goodbyes for the day, if I had other plans, shooing me toward the sink or handing me another crate to break down, he dragged out two surprisingly comfortable folding chairs from behind the counter. 

He carried them into the back, set one down beside a cleared prep table, then placed a steaming bowl of his special ramen right in front of it. 

The gesture alone was enough to make my stomach growl like a feral beast.

I didn’t need convincing. 

I was drenched, hair plastered to my forehead, shirt sticking to my back—hours in a steamy kitchen tended to do that—and the sight of actual food felt like a blessing from the heavens. 

I dropped into the chair, downed half a glass of ice-cold water in gulps large enough that made my throat sting painfully enough to put tears in my eyes, and dug hastily into the ramen.

The first few bites disappeared so fast I barely tasted them, but after the initial frenzy, something warm and quiet settled over me. 

A weird peace I hadn’t felt in… I didn’t even know how long—too long.

‘A good day’s work with a good boss, amazing food, cold water… That’s the life,’ I thought, letting out a long, wistful sigh as the slightly tangy broth hit my soul in all the right places.

While I ate, Mr. Shori slipped back into his pre-rush rituals—chopping vegetables, checking stocks, fussing over broth temperatures. Time never seemed to stop for him; he simply moved with it, grumbling at it on occasion.

Fifteen minutes later, with my bowl empty and my body significantly less corpse-like, he finally sat down beside me. 

He angled the chair just enough to face me directly.

“You full?” he asked.

I nodded, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand like a savage.

He drew in a slow, deliberate breath. His eyes sharpened.

Then, in that low, steady Japanese he used when English didn’t cut it, he asked, “{What, exactly, have you done to yourself, child?}”

I blinked at him several times. 

My brain stalled like someone had yanked out the power cord. 

It took multiple seconds for the words—and their meaning—to actually register.

“W…what?” I managed, voice cracking under the surprise.

He didn’t soften. Not even a fraction. 

He repeated himself, slower this time, “{What, exactly, have you done to yourself, Ela? I have watched you work for weeks now—watched you climb from the emaciated state you walked in with to something stronger, more whole, every day. I did not question it. I let you keep your secrets, just as you do not pry into mine. I respect this. I appreciate it.}”

I heard the but coming like a freight train.

“{But I cannot sit quietly when a girl like you disappears, when I get a message from someone I do not know claiming to be your mother, saying you are ‘out’—and then you return like… this.}” 

He gestured at my entire damned existence with both hands. 

“{Your first recovery was miraculous, yes—possible, with effort and the right food. But this—this refinement, this precision in your movements—this is years beyond where you should be. Years, Ela. So I must ask you plainly: What happened to you? Are you in danger? Did that woman give you experimental drugs? Is that why you were out and how you made this leap? This should not be possible.}”

His voice didn’t waver in the slightest. His eyes didn’t move.

He wasn’t accusing me. 

He was worried. Deeply worried. 

For a moment, everything inside me just… folded inward.

Of course he’d notice.

He was the only person besides Miss K who I really should have expected this from.

He had seen me move day in, day out, for weeks. 

Saw me go from a completely emaciated husk of a body to a fairly well-defined girl that could hold her own in most standard situations in record time.

He knew my baseline better than I did, if I had to guess. 

And unlike Miss K, who openly lived and breathed combat, Mr. Shori hid his sharpness under that friendly ramen-shop exterior. 

But it was still always there—buried in the way his eyes tracked everything, in how fast he could pivot between tasks, in how he spoke and acted when things got even remotely serious. 

There was an old warrior beneath the apron; I would’ve bet my life on it without a second thought.

So whatever Mr. Shori really was behind the apron and the smile, he definitely wasn’t some random street chef who couldn’t tell when someone suddenly moved like they’d conveniently skipped a couple years of intense levels of training.

‘From his perspective, this must all look utterly insane…’ I realized with no hint of doubt.

For a moment—like half a heartbeat—I considered telling him everything. 

The System. The reincarnation. The fact that this entire world had once been nothing more than a story to the person whose memories I carried; to the person I had once been.

But the thought lodged inside my brain like a fish bone in a throat.

Because I didn’t know how he’d react. 

Because I didn’t want this—him—to change. 

Because I didn’t want to risk losing the one place in this city that still felt thoroughly uncomplicated and safe to me.

So I made excuses in my head—wrong place, wrong time, too much baggage, too dangerous, I’ll do it when I know how to word it all—but the truth was simpler:

I chickened out.

So I did the only thing that I could trust myself to fall back on, every single time—like an addict reaching for a hit the second it’s offered.

I lied. 

Partially, as there was a lot of truth in what I was saying, but it was still a lie.

Even [Deception] recognized it as such.

I took a breath, met his eyes, and said, “It’s… related to Anima.”

His expression didn’t shift, not even a millimeter.

“I don’t actually know all the details,” I continued, keeping my tone carefully controlled. “Something happened. I don’t really understand it, but Valeria—my mother—does. Or at least, she’s trying to. She’s the one looking into it. She has the resources for that sort of thing.”

Not a twitch from the old man. 

Just that same unreadable calm, like he was carved from stone.

“I just… woke up different,” I finished quietly. “Had a lot of muscle pains at the start of the day, but working here for a few hours loosened everything up again. I feel completely fine now. And my mother…” 

I hesitated for a brief moment, wondering how deep I should really go with this. 

“She’s a lot more knowledgeable than anyone else I know when it comes to Anima. She said Sprites had… done something to my body. Some kind of corrective work. But they’re finished, and she checked—there’s no residual danger. Whatever happened, it’s over.”

Mr. Shori stayed quiet for a long moment—long enough that the silence started pressing into my ribs, making me painfully aware of every tiny shift in his expression. 

He wasn’t glaring, wasn’t angry… just thinking. 

Really thinking. 

When he finally spoke, it was slow and deliberate, the way he got when he was lining his thoughts up like ingredients before a cut.

“{This Anima… That’s the same one as in the technique I taught you? The Razor?}”

“Yes,” I said immediately. 

He hummed—low and gravelly, the kind of sound that carried a lifetime in it—and his brows pulled tight. 

Whatever mental math he was doing looked like it hurt.

“{I wish I knew more of that whole side now…}” he admitted, almost grudgingly. “{Seems you’ve already walked past me on that path. I never cared much for how Anima Razor functioned or what else there might be in that same side of the world… I simply used it when I was younger—a different line of work back then.}”

He tossed that last part out like it was nothing, but the weight of it still hit the air between us. 

A blatant invitation to ask. 

I didn’t flinch.

That was our relationship: He didn’t dig into my shadows, and I didn’t dig into his.

He noticed. His eyes softened the barest amount.

“{I trust your judgement, Ela. But… such a jump in physical conditioning? No chance it comes without dangers. Body, your brain… maybe even your very spirit. When something changes so fast in such a large way—it always takes something with it.}”

I swallowed, then nodded with honest sincerity. “I know. I’ve been trying to be careful. Or… as careful as I’m allowed to be.”

That earned me a raised eyebrow—more eloquent than most people’s entire vocabularies. 

I waved a hand vaguely, trying not to look too haunted. “My life is… kinda stressful. In general.”

He looked like he wanted to ask. Really wanted to. 

But after a beat, he let it go, giving one firm nod instead, as if recognizing a boundary and accepting it.

Finally, he reached out and rested a warm, calloused hand on my shoulder.

“{If you need anything, you come to me. Alright? Anything. I do not know much of Anima except for the Razor and a few scraps here and there… but everything else? I can help. I will not let you be alone, if you don’t want to be, Ela.}”

Something unwound inside my chest at that—tightness I hadn’t even realized had been there, the moment the conversation had started. 

I let out a quiet breath and bowed my head a little.

“Thank you… really. That means a lot.”

The conversation ultimately wound down on that note, the tension finally bleeding out of the air. 

After a short while, Mr. Shori eased himself back onto his feet with a quiet grunt and returned to his prep work—washing, chopping, humming under his breath as he always did; it was calming beyond words. 

I lingered for a moment, watching the way he slipped effortlessly back into the rhythm of running his little empire, and then pushed myself up as well. 

‘Time to get a move on.’

I still had an entire second half of my day ahead of me—and, unfortunately, another conversation waiting that was probably going to be even harder than this one. 

This had been a good test run, all things considered. 

It told me more about myself than I honestly liked to admit. 

There were knots in my head I wasn’t ready to pick apart, instincts that curled protectively around the truth like a feral animal. 

If I couldn’t step past that wall with him, of all people… then yeah. 

Trust wasn’t something I was anywhere close to handing out in full. Not yet. 

Maybe not for a long while.

Still… the Anima explanation had held. 

It was solid enough for Valeria, solid enough for Mr. Shori, and it would be solid enough for Miss K too, if she pressed. So at least I had a consistent story now, even if it made my stomach twist to lean so heavily on half-truths and, frankly, straight up lies.

What I’d tell them, though… that was another beast entirely.

I threw off my work clothes and put them away, slung over my own Ela clothes again, and made my way out of the shop, giving Mr. Shori a quick wave when he glanced back with that fond, gruff nod of his. 

Then I slipped into the flow of the thoroughfare and headed toward the elevators.

I pulled up my messages as I walked.

Jade was already on her way to Misha’s Emporium, just as I had requested earlier today.

Great.

Two people I owed answers to—answers I still hadn’t figured out how to actually give. If I delayed any longer, I’d risk irritating both of them, and that was a terrible idea on every conceivable level.

I stepped into the elevator to the 31st floor, the doors sliding shut with a soft hiss, and leaned back against the wall, exhaling slowly.

‘Alright, Sera. Round two. Figure out what you actually want to share and think about your words. Don’t screw this up...’

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[TAS] Volume 2 - Interlude: A Proprietor’s Lot

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Volume 2 - Chapter 54 - Becoming has just released on RR with no changes.

For the Wolf Lords, this chapter is unchanged.

And also: Please do not read the chapters here on Patreon, but go for the googledoc, .pdf or .epub instead. Patreon butchers all forms of formatting and you're missing out on easier and more enjoyable reading experiences.

------

HIGHLY EXPERIMENTAL CHAPTER!

Tried a bit of a different approach to interludes in this one.

Focusing on a single PoV that is mostly about things outside the main POV's sight and current concerns, while also weaving in part of the main character's storyline towards the end to still move the story forward, if slowly.

Let me know how it feels!

------

I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is the link to the chapter:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1F8jHkokAxlA9CT7qxEB72yhQB4lQ_Kj2VMupgLKb-Pc/edit?usp=sharing

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Volume 2 - Interlude: A Proprietor’s Lot

“The O-13 governs the United Human Federation. 

“But anyone who has served long enough in the Corps knows that the UHF Marine Corps operates under an entirely different sort of governance: The Marines govern themselves.

“When you build an army out of people who can level city blocks before breakfast, personal politics stops being a side problem and starts being the very water you have to swim in.

“The Allbright System, in its infinite cruelty, doesn't care for unity, politics, or chain of command. It cares only for advancement. 

“For the pursuit of perfection through conflict in its search for the Ultimate Warrior.

“And so, the Corps breeds monsters: Deliberately, with no remorse and no end in sight for how far they will go to create the most monstrous person they can.

“Generally, they are beautiful, loyal and efficient, those monsters of ours. Monsters who bend entire campaigns through the sheer weight of their personal strength. And while the Council loves their victories, it has to fear the independence that this very power brings.

“See… when one sufficiently high-Tier Marine can level a city by themselves, and another twenty can bend the laws of physics at their whim, you stop commanding an army and start managing egos, first and foremost. 

“The Allbright System rewards selfishness disguised as ambition—because ambition, to the System, is progress towards its prime directive.

“This has always been the UHF’s greatest curse, but also its greatest victory. 

“The Council cannot stifle the System’s hunger without starving its own armies from the very powers they need to contend in the Galactic War. To deny the Allbright System’s directive would be to cut the very muscle that keeps the Republic and Dominion to our sides trembling at our borders. 

“And so, the Corps plays its own game beneath the Galactic War—one of politics, influence, and personal supremacy. To temper this chaos, the Council created the Proprietor system. 

“Each Proprietor is the highest agent of the Council inside the Corps in all but name—a sovereign ruler of their assigned Star Sectors, chosen for loyalty to the cause, temperament and wisdom, as much as personal strength. 

“To punch above their weight-class is all but a single requirement for a Proprietor, and one that they do not even sweat about. Aces among Battlefield Aces, were they ever needed to be deployed—the ultimate surgical weapons of the Council.

“Their very word is law within their domain, superseded only by the Council itself; nullifying the Corps own ranking structure and chain of command, when necessary.

“They mediate the conflicts that the Allbright System inevitably breeds inside the Corps, pulling their lesser peers back from the brink of mutiny and madness, back into the fold of the unity that is required for our Faction to exist.

“Some call them kings and queens, but I call them a necessary evil.

“Without them, the Corps would eat itself alive—its brightest stars burning each other out in a desperate bid to consume the rest, long before any enemy could.

“They aren’t chosen because they’re incorruptible—none of us are—but because their corruption is predictable, manageable, and, most importantly, aligned with the Council’s will.

“They are our guardrails, our arbitrators, our leash on the monsters of war we’ve built with our own hands.

“But make no mistake: The Proprietors are, by and large, the greatest monsters of them all.

“For ask yourself this—what kind of being does it take to not just leash, but command, the most dangerous monsters the Corps has managed to deliberately breed in seven centuries?

“What kind of being is required to make those who can level cities with a thought tremble at the sound of their name? To make the monsters yelp and lower their heads in shame, when their voices are raised?

“No—the true monsters aren’t the Ace Marines the propaganda reels glorify. 

“They’re the very Daemons holding their leashes tight; the ones who make even demi-gods-in-the-making remember what it means to fear.”

—

[Excerpt from “The UHF Marine Corps’ Greatest Problem: The Monsters Of Our Own Making,” by Professor Emeritus Halden Virex – Former Advisor to the O-13 Council – PFC911]

======

======

PoV: Major Zephyr Quinn

“How many of these damned reports are left…?” Zephyr groaned, stretching and arching her back over the chair she sat on.

“There are seventy-three reports remaining, Major,” the Sovereign’s calm, ever-unhelpful voice replied, as if she had actually wanted an answer.

Zephyr shot a glare at the ceiling—there wasn’t really anywhere else to direct it to—thinking darkly, ‘I swear that damn AI is doing this on purpose just to piss me off.’

It had been a brutally long day of paperwork. 

A dozen datapads sat scattered across the wide, solid-wooden table in front of her, each loaded with a different list of reports to help “keep things organized,” though the current state of the desk suggested otherwise.

Two of them had even fallen to the floor when she’d tossed one down out of sheer frustration, sending a small pile tumbling over with it. She hadn’t bothered to pick them up.

‘I could just ask the Sovereign to put them back,’ she mused, ‘but I’d rather not rely on that thing more than I already have to.’

She’d never been fond of the UHF’s obsession with the shipboard AIs. 

The Sovereign, especially, had always rubbed her the wrong way.

Likely because of its closeness to Horatio, somebody Zephyr herself considered a close friend—almost like a father-figure of sorts. While she trusted him, she definitely did not trust the damn AI further than she could throw it—which wasn’t particularly far, as she couldn’t even get to it. 

The mere thought of the Sanctums buried deep within the cores of the UHF fleet’s ships—a place no one but the Captain could access—made her skin crawl.

‘An entire part of the ship off-limits to everyone else…? I trust the Council knows what they’re doing,’ she thought, ‘but without knowing what’s inside that Sanctum—or how these things truly function—I don’t think I’ll ever be comfortable around them. Just hope Terra never ends up feeling threatened by it all...’

There was, of course, one way for her to find out exactly how it all worked—if she truly cared enough to.

She was, after all, a Proprietor by order of the O-13 Council.

If she truly wanted to, she could simply override every restriction and classification in place to dig into what made the Sovereign tick. But that, in essence, was the whole point of being trusted with such power—to not use it for something as petty as idle curiosity.

Her eyes drifted back down to the datapad in her hands, to the report she’d been staring at before her thoughts had wandered.

It was one she’d been brooding over for days now, and she still didn’t know what to make of it.

‘Concerning, obviously… but what am I supposed to do with this, exactly?’

It was the first comprehensive report from the investigation into the disappearance of the Monarch—one of the Sovereign’s sister-ships, lost during the first quarterly Assessment of the newest Recruitment Drive.

The report had been… beyond unsettling. 

Not only because of what it said, but especially because of everything it didn’t.

For one, the Monarch had been found—or what was left of it.

A wreck, torn apart into several large chunks that had been found drifting in real-space. 

But the implications buried in that report were the kind no high-ranking UHF officer ever wanted to read.

No chain of catastrophic system failures. No signs of enemy fleet attacks. If anything, the ship’s hull had been downright pristine—except where the ship had simply been torn apart.

That much the investigation team had confirmed early on. 

‘No survivors. Complete loss of personnel, including the Captain and the AI. The Sanctum was breached, and whatever was inside it is missing entirely,’ Zephyr recalled from the informal section of the report.

All of it led to the chilling conclusion now glowing on her datapad—the one visibly marked “for Kuigon Proprietor Eyes Only”.

It was one of those rare moments when her clearance as a Proprietor had naturally come into play, surpassing even that of the ship’s own Captain. 

Normally, she had far less authority and clearance than someone like Horatio. But this time around, her title had placed her first in line to know about the initial results, despite only  officially holding the rank of Major.

She held the datapad in front of her face, too weary to sit up straight, her head leaning back against the top of the chair as she read the final lines of the report for the hundredth time.

“Damage patterns, incident speed, and aftermath point towards high likelihood of a Major Void Incursion. No distress beacons located—missing entirely from the ship and surrounding area—indicating intelligent enemy action in suppressing information. 

“Initial investigation concludes with the following warning:

“High likelihood of Titanicus-level Void Entity present within the Voidzone of the following Sectors: Virellian, Driftspire, Halcyon, Threnic Spiral, Krynnal, Pidine, Kuigon.

“Potential presence of Primordial-level Void Entity within the Voidzone of the following Sectors: Virellian, Driftspire, Halcyon, Threnic Spiral, Krynnal, Pidine, Kuigon.”

The words Titanicus and Primordial had been echoing in her head ever since the report first landed on her desk. 

They were the kind of words no one ever wanted to see in a report about their own Star Sector—especially not when they were currently sailing straight through the very Voidzones mentioned.

‘We’re about a week out from Kovalsk Station,’ she thought grimly. ‘Once there, we’ll link up with the ships Horatio requested as escorts back when we first learned about the Harbinger’s connection to that Recruit… Maybe he was onto something back then. If we’d waited until now to call for them, they’d still be a month out… and if we ran into the Titanicus before then—’

She didn’t finish the thought. She didn’t need to.

A Recruitment Ship wasn’t built to fight Void Entities—not on that scale.

Zephyr shook her head, a dry laugh escaping her lips. 

After hearing the legends of the Harbinger’s uncanny talent for attracting trouble for decades, she had thought Horatio overly paranoid for ordering permanent escorts just because of Thea McKay’s presence aboard the Sovereign. 

The girl’s connection to the retired General had seemed like flimsy reasoning at the time.

Now, though, she found herself quietly thankful for this “foresight.”

‘And having Anrake on the ship will help until then… If push comes to shove, I trust he’ll at least get us out of trouble, if nothing else.’

“Major Quinn,” the Sovereign’s voice cut cleanly through her thoughts, smooth and polite as ever. “Recruits Thea McKay and Karania Faulkner have requested your location. As per your standing orders, I have granted the request immediately and informed Recruit McKay of your position. They are currently en route to your office.”

Zephyr’s eye twitched. 

She tilted her head back and glared at the ceiling again, her lips pressing into a thin line.

‘Of course it would say that now,’ she thought bitterly. ‘Can’t just let me have five minutes of thinking through stuff before dropping something like that on me again. I swear, this AI gets its kicks from watching me suffer.’

She had no proof, of course. Just a very strong suspicion.

Letting out a long, resigned sigh, Zephyr pushed herself up from her chair and began cleaning the disaster that was her desk. She stacked the datapads into somewhat neat piles, retrieved the two that had fallen to the floor earlier, and gave the surface a quick once-over.

Once satisfied, she caught her reflection in one of the datapad screens, straightened her uniform jacket, and brushed a few stubborn strands of hair back into place. 

Her face looked tired—but at least it looked composed.

She couldn’t afford to appear anything less. 

She was the Major Quinn, after all, and appearances mattered—especially when dealing with someone like the Harbinger’s daughter.

It was, frankly, ridiculous just how much trouble that girl truly was.

In all her years as a Proprietor, or even just as an officer in the UHF Marine Corps, Zephyr had never seen a single Recruit stir up so many emergency meetings, complications, and full-blown headaches—not to mention the mountain of paperwork that seemed to follow in her every step.

But, then again…

‘It’s not really her fault, is it? None of this mess is something she had any real say in. It’s not her fault she’s… well, whatever she is—whatever the System sees in her. It’s on us to figure out how to make the best use of the opportunity she’s offering the UHF, not her. So it’s only natural we have to carry the weight of all the fallout that comes with all of it.’

That was why Zephyr had given the Sovereign standing orders to always allow the Recruit to find or reach her, no matter what.

She’d rather walk through a fortified trench full of Freaks alone than risk another disaster like the one that had unfolded after the Assessment.

If all it cost her was a little extra stress and a stack of endless reports, then so be it.

Better that than losing what little trust the girl still had in the UHF—because that was something they simply could not afford to have happen.

“Sovereign,” Zephyr said, glancing up as she started sorting through the clutter of datapads on her desk. “Anything I should know ahead of time about this visit from the Recruits?”

“There should be nothing unexpected, Major,” the ship’s voice replied promptly. “Both Recruits appear to be on course to request Skill Class Passes, as expected. They intend to apply for authorization to take more than the standard monthly limit, due to an excessive number of Skills on their shortlists and the necessary Credits or Skill Vouchers to take them.”

Zephyr hummed quietly in response, not surprised in the least. “Figures.”

Her fingers paused as she spotted the datapad she was looking for—the one she had set up to be dedicated entirely to Thea McKay-related reports. It wasn’t particularly hard to find; the datapad was being updated so often it practically lived on the top of her desk by default anyway, so she knew its exterior by heart already.

Pulling it up, she skimmed the newest report on the girl’s recently completed Digital Mission.

“That’s good though,” she muttered, eyes flicking over the summaries and performance metrics. “If that’s all they’re after, this should be quick.”

She already had everything prepared for Alpha Squad to receive those passes anyway. The only thing left was her signature—and, of course, the Recruits’ personal requests to make it official.

It was one of those small, bureaucratic hoops the UHF insisted every Marine jump through—meant to make sure career choices stayed in the Marine’s own hands, even if those choices weren’t always the most optimal ones.

Still, she respected the policy deeply. 

It was one of the big things that truly set the UHF apart from most other Factions out there: Their attempt at keeping a certain level of Humanity, despite the Emperor’s madness—and the very reason Zephyr had devoted her life to ensuring they’d win the Galactic War.

There was little she valued more than the idea that a person’s path should stay theirs to choose, on principle.

Even now, almost a full month later, she still didn’t sleep properly because of what she’d done—pushing the Harbinger’s girl toward the Psyker path during that damned Emergency Meeting. 

It was a black mark on her conscience, one she doubted would ever fade.

‘But it was necessary,’ she reminded herself, as she always had to do whenever the memory clawed its way back to the surface. ‘We need that chance to turn things around. If we can just figure out what kind of Classes exist, how to obtain them, and—most importantly—how to counter them… Then maybe, when we face the Assembly in the decades ahead… That knowledge will be what decides whether we stand or fall before the deadline is up.’

A soft chime from the door pulled Zephyr out of her thoughts. 

The Sovereign’s voice followed almost immediately, smooth and polite as ever. “Recruits Thea McKay and Karania Faulkner have arrived, Major. Shall I let them in?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Zephyr said, setting down the datapad and straightening her posture.

The door slid open with a quiet hiss, and the two young women stepped in. 

Zephyr gave them a brief once-over—habit more than anything—but her eyes lingered on Thea for a moment longer.

She’d been worried. 

The news she’d had to break to the girl that morning had been… less than pleasant.

But much to Zephyr’s relief, Thea looked steady. No signs of lingering grief, no slumped shoulders or restless tension. 

The girl stood about as tall as one could expect from somebody with her level of social anxiety—half-hidden behind her shield, Karania, but still fighting to look like she wasn’t simply being dragged here against her wishes.

‘Guess cutting your way through a Hold-The-Line against the Freaks helps get some frustrations out of your system,’ Zephyr thought dryly, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

Turning her attention fully to the pair, she asked, “So, what brings the two of you here?”

Karania spoke up first, as Zephyr had expected. The Harbingers daughter, for all her prowess in being a killing machine without equal in the Recruit-core, was not one to lead a discussion like this.

“Major, we’d like to request authorization to take additional Skill Classes, beyond the general Recruit-level limit,” she said clearly, her tone inherently confident. “We’ve been refining our shortlists, and given the minimum time constraints between Classes, it would be far more efficient if we could take more than the standard monthly limit. We’ve already calculated the long-term efficiency gains that could be expected in light of our available Credits, Skill Vouchers, and the corresponding Point Value returns, and—”

Zephyr stopped listening somewhere around “efficiency gains.” 

She’d already made up her mind to approve the request, but she let the Medic talk—it was good practice for her, if nothing else.

Instead, Zephyr found herself studying Karania more in-depth. 

The girl really was something else.

Everyone’s eyes were on the Harbinger’s daughter, and fair enough—the girl had raw potential the likes of which the Corps hadn’t seen in generations; if ever. 

But it wasn’t just McKay who was an utter anomaly in this Drive. Karania Faulkner was just as terrifying in her own way—maybe even more so. 

Unlike McKay, she didn’t have the luxury of being a Wielder.

No special powers, no Universe-granted advantage.

And while no one could deny the Harbinger’s daughter her achievements, the situation was more nuanced than it appeared. 

Her head start didn’t even really qualify as a large one in the grand scheme of things—there were thousands of Wielders in every UHF Recruitment Drive, and most never gained any sort of advantage from the Psychic Powers they were blessed and cursed with, before they were way into Tier 1. Stretching the advantage as far as she had, this early on, was undeniably impressive on its own right. 

But it was something else entirely again when a Marine managed to somehow stand nearly on equal footing with her, despite her impressive efforts to push the advantage she was given, without any such advantages.

Everything the Faulkner girl had achieved within the UHF so far had come from nothing but sharp intellect, instinct, and sheer, unrelenting determination, as far as Zephyr had been able to determine.

She had reviewed Alpha Squad’s Assessment footage more than once, and every time she’d found herself double- or triple-checking what she’d just seen, Karania Faulkner had been involved.

The girl’s reactions were too quick. Her plans too layered. Every choice she made, even under fire and in the most desperate of situations, looked like something that had been thought through for hours ahead of time.

The way the Medic had reacted to the IgT bombardment on the eastern front still unsettled her.

She hadn’t just accepted it immediately—as if she’d somehow known it was coming, which should’ve been impossible for a new Recruit, given the nature of the compounds raining down on them—but had also managed to immediately intuit the perfect course of action to save as many lives as possible, and even the exact workings of the compound from a singular instance of seeing it touch anything.

It was unnatural—the kind of unnatural that made even Zephyr’s skin crawl.

‘If she keeps this up… she’s going to be a monster without equal one day,’ Zephyr thought, watching the Medic’s calm posture and unwavering focus as she laid out her arguments.

‘A brilliant, methodical monster—but that might make it all the more terrifying. It’s one thing to be a Marine who can single-handedly turn the tides of battle… it’s another when there’s a mind like hers behind it all.’

The worst part was that Zephyr couldn’t read the Medic at all.

Karania Faulkner had a truly uncanny level of control over her body—so much so that even micro-expressions were often missing. And when they did appear, they felt downright rehearsed, deliberate. 

No one her age should’ve even been aware of that kind of control being possible, let alone capable of it.

But Zephyr had learned to trust her instincts over the years, and they told her one thing clearly: If mishandled, Karania Faulkner could someday become a problem of unprecedented scale.

She couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly at the thought, glancing between the two girls in front of her.

‘Two calamities-in-the-making. Both on my ship, both in Alpha Squad, and both tied together by something that goes beyond simple comradery… If that isn’t a recipe for total disaster, I don’t know what is. Still—this might also be the biggest opportunity the UHF’s had in centuries… Just wish it didn’t have to land on my shoulders to manage all of it,’ she sighed inwardly, nodding along with the Medic’s continued ramblings and appearing very interested.

‘Then again, I suppose that’s how it’s always been for people standing at the turning points across history—you either die trying to make it work, or you pull it off and become a legend.’

Finally, the Faulkner girl wrapped up her explanation and stepped back slightly, motioning for McKay to take over.

“I agree with Karania’s assessments and fully support the request being put forward as-is for both of us,” she said, her tone a little too even—like she’d been coached to say those words exactly that way—before retreating once more behind the safety of her squadmate’s presence.

Zephyr let a small smile tug at the corner of her lips as she met both girls’ eyes—doing her best to suppress the instinctive flinch that came when she met the Cyan’s. 

She let the silence in the office stretch, letting it do its work.

Temperament mattered. 

Recruits needed to learn that not every request would be met instantly, even when approval was a foregone conclusion. A little resistance now would do them good later; not every officer they encountered in their careers would be as invested in their success as she was.

Eventually, though, she had to break the quiet. 

She gave a small nod and said, “Your arguments are sound, Recruits. I’ll see to it that you both get your Skill Class limits increased. Just don’t make me regret it by overdoing the trainings. Time dilation isn’t something either of you has experience with yet, so take it slow. Don’t rush things just because you can. Understood?”

“Yes, Ma’am!” they replied in perfect sync. Zephyr could see that they meant it—or at least, McKay did. With Faulkner, she wasn’t entirely sure she could trust what she saw, but she had no reason to doubt that the Medic would want to destroy herself for no reason either.

She nodded again, halfway through the motion stopping to turn her attention on the Medic. 

“You’ll be responsible for her on this. Her tendency to overdo things—to push herself until she’s bleeding out of the ears, all for the sake of progress—isn’t exactly a point in favor of giving her more freedom. I assume that’s part of the reason you brought her along today?”

Faulkner’s eyes widened a fraction too perfectly.

‘That’s fake,’ Zephyr thought immediately. ‘You sly snake. Your actions were transparent on purpose, to make yourself seem less of a threat than you really are, weren’t they?’

“Yes, Ma’am! I’ll make sure she behaves, I guarantee it!” the Medic replied with practiced enthusiasm, punctuating it with a double fist-to-heart salute.

‘You really did your homework,’ Zephyr thought, half impressed, half uneasy. ‘That trick would charm half the officers on this ship; and around ninety-percent outside it.’

She gave one last, full nod of approval before shifting her attention to McKay.

“You listen to your Medic, Recruit. If I hear you’ve been abusing those Skill Classes and managed to wreck your already fragile social net or mental state, I’ll personally tear you apart. Are we clear?”

“Y–Yes, Ma’am! Totally clear! I’ll only do what Kara—uh, Medic Faulkner—signs off on!”

The girl copied the salute, though a half-step off, having no clue why Faulkner had done it in the first place—but doing it anyway because she thought she should.

Zephyr nearly laughed. 

‘That’s… actually really cute,’ she thought, forcing back the warmth creeping into her eyes.

Zephyr straightened slightly, smoothing the front of her uniform as she glanced between the two Recruits. “If that’s all, you’re both dismissed,” she said, gesturing toward the door. 

“Enjoy your free time while it lasts—because I assure you, it won’t.”

Karania gave a sharp nod, already half turned to leave, when McKay suddenly spoke up.

“Actually… could you go on ahead, Kara? There’s something I’d like to ask Major Quinn. In private.”

Zephyr froze for a heartbeat. 

Of all the things she’d expected, that hadn’t been on the list. 

Thea McKay didn’t do unprompted private conversations. 

The girl was blunt, direct, and—judging from every report Zephyr had read—painfully allergic to unnecessary social interaction. 

Even the Medic seemed genuinely caught off guard, blinking once before quickly schooling her expression. 

“Oh. Uh… sure. I’ll wait outside then, Thea,” she said softly, giving her friend a brief look that hovered between concern and curiosity before stepping out through the door. 

It hissed shut behind her, leaving a heavy stillness in its wake.

Zephyr leaned back in her chair, her focus narrowing entirely on the Harbinger’s daughter. 

The girl’s posture was unusually tense, her usual confidence mixed with an unhealthy dose of anxiety replaced by a quiet sort of… restraint. She was clearly weighing her words, running through thoughts in silence, maybe even battling herself on whether to speak at all.

So Zephyr waited. 

No interruptions, no leading questions—just calm, watchful patience. 

Whatever the girl had to say, it was important enough to make her step completely outside her comfort zone… and that alone was reason enough to make Zephyr’s spine tingle in concern.

After nearly a full minute of thick, uncomfortable silence, the girl finally drew in a slow, steady breath and spoke.

“How… How trustworthy is the Runepriest, Major Quinn? I don’t mean in terms of loyalty to the UHF—I’m asking about him as a person. If protocol demanded it, would he kill me on the spot… or would he be willing to consider alternatives, as long as they didn’t go against the UHF’s goals, now that I’m his official student?”

Zephyr froze. 

For a moment, she forgot how to breathe.

Her pulse stumbled, then steadied into a slow, tense rhythm as every instinct in her body screamed at once.

The question wasn’t just strange—it was dangerous. 

The phrasing alone was deliberate, careful, and far too specific for a simple curiosity. There were layers to it—possibilities that her mind began breaking apart and analyzing all at once, running through every potential meaning, every political and personal implication behind those words.

And none of the conclusions she was drawing made her feel any better.

The first thing that hit her was that she, of all people, had been chosen for a question like this.

A question that could change the course of a life—or end it outright.

The more Zephyr thought about it, the more she suspected the Harbinger’s hand in it—indirectly, at least. 

Someone as respected, connected and deliberate as the General had been according to the stories, wouldn’t have missed her long-standing friendship with Atlas, one of his most promising pupils. 

He’d probably instilled a sense of personal loyalty toward her in the girl—some quiet contingency, a thread of trust meant to give the Harbinger’s daughter someone to turn to outside the usual chain of command. 

Someone “likely trustworthy,” simply by direct association with Atlas.

And in this moment, Zephyr was intensely grateful for that.

Because if McKay had gone to anyone else on the ship with that kind of question, the results could’ve been disastrous.

What the girl had just asked would have been considered borderline treason by the overeager—and outright insubordination by everyone else.

But that wasn’t her intent.

Zephyr could see that clearly enough in her tone, in the careful way she’d chosen her words.

The second realization, though—the one that made Zephyr silently curse Atlas’s name—was harder to swallow.

The very fact that Thea McKay had asked the question at all meant the damage between her and the UHF ran much deeper than Zephyr had hoped.

‘She doesn’t trust us. Not at all…’ Zephyr thought grimly. ‘And who could blame her, really? Emperor damn it, Atlas—why did you have to black-lock her profile like that? If you hadn’t, one of the dozen other officers aboard could’ve seen the signs sooner—got her the Overdraw primer, the Psyker basics—before everything went to shit and—’

She forced the thought to stop there. 

No point spiraling over what couldn’t be changed.

Atlas wasn’t here, the damage was done, and now it fell on her to clean up the mess he’d left behind. Still, she promised herself that the next time he set foot on the Sovereign, she’d beat the ever-living shit out of him—they were long overdue for a lengthy sparring match anyway, and she had more than enough reason to pursue it, the next time she could.

For now, though, she had to focus on the girl in front of her. 

At the very least, she could try to answer the question in a way that might bridge the growing gulf between Thea McKay and the UHF. 

Even if she had no real idea what could’ve driven the girl to risk everything—her standing, her career, even her damn life—to ask something as dangerous as this in the first place…

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[Wolf Lord+ | Draft] Volume 2 - Chapter 60 - System 102: Maintenance & Soul Transfer

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Welcome to the draft release of Volume 2 - Chapter 60 - System 102: Maintenance & Soul Transfer for y'all.

As always, a quick reminder that this chapter is still in the process of being workshopped by me and that this is simply the first-draft.

And also: Please do not read the chapters here on Patreon, but go for the googledoc, .pdf or .epub instead. Patreon butchers all forms of formatting and you're missing out on easier and more enjoyable reading experiences.

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Welcome to System 102~!

Trying some hybrid showing/telling here to skip through some of the (otherwise) lengthy exposition.

There'll still be quite some exposition in this chapter and the next; just the nature of Academy Arcs, really, but it's hopefully not too grating!

Should only be 1 more lecture chapter in the System 102 series after this one.

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I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is the link to the chapter:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1U61UXuEYcq20rTRdOB-9ggEwpTOR5tFrHWQVaEUkRt0/edit?usp=sharing

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Volume 2 - Chapter 60 - System 102: Maintenance & Soul Transfer

“Psykers did not begin with the Allbright System, nor will they end with it. 

“They are older than recorded history, older than our first colonies, older than even our earliest attempts to truly quantify the human mind in earnest. 

“But their independence from the System does not mean the System ignores them.

“The Psychic Attribute exists for a reason. And so do several functions, Titles, and hidden metrics within the System Interface that only Psykers ever see. Then there are several Abilities that are specifically designed to work with or counter Psykers—even Classes that specifically synergize well for the same tasks. Yet all these features, as remarkable as they are, never change the underlying truth: The System does not create nor exist for Psykers.

“It merely reacts to their existence.

“A person Awakens because their Attributes—while, yes, granted by the System—push their mind and biology past a threshold that our predecessors used to reach only through risk, trauma, or pure cosmic luck. 

“The System accelerates the inevitable; it does not inherently cause nor define it.

“This is why the PV—your Point Value—remains one of the System’s most controversial measurements. For all the versatility, raw force, and reality-bending potential that Psykers bring onto a battlefield, their PV barely reflects that truth.

“It is, frankly, the only area where humanity collectively believes the System shows a fundamental misunderstanding of the capabilities afforded.

“And we, as a Faction, are quite grateful for that.

“The Unified Human Federation is one of the few Factions that pours its heart, soul, and resources into nurturing Psykers—actively searching for and molding Marines that could fill this role from the very start. If the System ever accurately priced their power, as humanity understands it, our scant few advantages would erode into near nothingness overnight.

“Outside Integrated society, Psykers sit in a strange kind of middle ground: Feared, whispered about, sometimes praised, but always understood to be inherently real. They are treated almost like living myths—rarer than a million lucky coincidences, often exaggerated in rumor, but never dismissed as fabrications outright.

“They are one of the few pieces of the war that humanity does not need to lie about. No propaganda drapery, no data purges, no smokescreens necessary. 

“The Allbright System itself refuses to label them as System-born, and so humanity is free to acknowledge them and their capabilities openly.

“Some of the greatest Aces the UHF has ever produced were Psykers—heroes whose records the UHF can publish with barely any redaction at all. Their stories inspire hundreds of billions over the centuries.

“Their feats look like literal magic to the untrained eye—and even those that are trained, frankly—and unlike most of our operations, we don’t have to hide them.

“And in a war where every Faction is fighting for more than just territory or annihilation—where we’re fighting for the hearts and minds of our future brothers and sisters in arms—Psykers are our loudest, brightest message to the galaxy.

“They are living proof that humanity can do the impossible.

“They are our strongest blade—on the battlefield, and far, far beyond it.”

—

[Excerpt from “The Allbright System’s role in the Galactic War,” – Taran Eniv – PFC861]

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======

“—something like the Sidoreno series, on the other hand, gives you way more cargo space and troop capacity, while also being far tougher against enemy fire. And all that for basically the same relative price once you adjust for the increased size. So… yeah. I’d practically always recommend one of those over the smaller, more ‘affordable’ variants, if someone can save up enough to get them. But I do get that that’s not always realistic,” Lucas finished, wrapping up his whole spiel on why patience paid off when buying vehicles.

Thea nodded along. 

She wasn’t exactly a vehicle person, but she understood the logic well enough—gear worked the same way in her experience. A high-end, purpose-built piece of equipment usually outperformed cheaper general-use stuff in the long run.

They’d drifted into this tangent during the first break of the System 102 lecture. 

Honestly, it felt nice. 

Talking to Lucas like this—about something he clearly loved—made him feel different from the normally quiet, more reserved Defensive Heavy she’d gotten used to. He only ever got this animated when vehicles were involved. 

Once he got going though, stopping him looked about as easy as stopping a freight train.

The topic had come up because she’d asked if he’d already made his list of Skill Classes for the month. She’d mentioned that Major Quinn had been willing to give Kara and herself extra Class Passes—and she was pretty sure Lucas would qualify too. 

Professor Hirana had gone over the basics of Skills earlier in the lecture, including how the System handled them and why some requirements still showed up as strings of question marks. 

To no big surprise Lucas already had a list, much like everyone else in Alpha Squad probably—he just couldn’t decide which (Driving)-related Skills to prioritize yet.

He wanted all of them, obviously, but choices had to be made. 

Even though there was a general-purpose (Driving) Skill he needed as a prerequisite, there were at least half a dozen specialized land-based vehicle driving Skills branching off from it.

‘Pretty different from my own experience with the Skill System so far, huh?’ Thea thought, turning the idea over in her head. ‘Outside of maybe some of the (Physics) and other science Skills, I haven’t really run into branching trees like that before… I wonder if some of my Skills have branches too at later stages. Like maybe (Sniping) splitting off into something else…? I might need more Skill Vouchers if that’s true.’

And just like that, the two of them had shifted fully into talking about the different (Driving) Skills—starting with something simple like (Driving – Personal Vehicles), moving up to (Driving – Squad Vehicles), and then all the way to (Driving – Platoon Vehicles) which was the Skill that included vehicles like the Sidoreno series Lucas had just finished extolling the virtues of.

There were even bigger vehicle ones than that, apparently. 

The largest Lucas had found so far was (Driving – Faction Vehicles), which he said almost certainly referred to Mobile Headquarters or similarly behemoth-sized machines.

Thea couldn’t say she knew anything about vehicles that size—she had never even heard of something like that before—but if Lucas said it existed, she trusted that he knew what he was talking about. He was, after all, the squad’s expert on anything with wheels, treads, or an engine, so there was no reason for her to doubt his words on the matter.

The whole day so far had been pretty enjoyable in Thea’s opinion, even with the presence of the less-than-ideal Masters brat lurking in the lecture hall.

It was nice getting time to talk with the others again—almost like the calmer moments back during the Assessment. Since it had concluded, everyone had been so busy catching up on everything they needed to do that she hadn’t really gotten much time to talk with anyone except Kara. 

The lectures and mandatory classes were, at the very least, a good chance to feel like more of a squad again, even if only for a few hours at a time before they all became busy again.

Much like their short break was already drawing to a close as well, when Professor Hirana returned to the podium and signaled for the Recruits to quiet down once more.

She glided back to the podium with her usual sharp steps—her long black coat swaying behind her like a curtain of ink. 

She was a middle-aged looking woman, with silver-streaked, ebony hair tied into a low knot that somehow never seemed to loosen, not even during the more animated parts of her lectures. 

As she spoke, her voice carried that soft, clipped tone that always managed to magically cut through any and all chatter without effort.

“Welcome back, Recruits,” she said, neatly silencing the conversation in the room. “Let us move on to our next topic: Maintenance and Deterioration under the Allbright System.”

A few groans immediately rose, only half-hearted, but Professor Hirana ignored them easily.

“As some of you may already know,” she continued, tapping her datapad once to pull up a floating schematic of a human body framed in blue light, “the Allbright System has been… lenient with you so far. Your bodies have been operating at enhanced levels without any associated Merit costs. I am here to inform you that this grace period is temporary.”

She raised two fingers.

“Exactly two months after your Integration date, the grace period ends. From that point forward, the System will begin deducting Merit on a weekly cycle to cover maintenance fees—essentially the cost of keeping your bodies functioning at the Attribute levels you possess.”

That earned her more than a few alarmed murmurs. 

A couple of Recruits cursed under their breath. 

Someone loudly whispered, “They’re charging us for existing?!”

Hirana didn’t even blink at that, her focused, green eyes darting to the Marine in question.

“Yes,” she answered simply. “The System’s support is not free. Higher Attributes mean a higher load on biological structure, neurological processes, and cellular integrity. The System supplements these. As such, it naturally expects repayment for those efforts.”

The murmuring grew louder. Thea noticed Lucas stiffen beside her, his brow furrowing like he was already recalculating his weekly Merit math.

Professor Hirana pressed on, unbothered.

“This is why the UHF mandates a minimum number of Digital Missions per week. Contrary to popular belief, this is not merely to ensure you can afford meals or occasional equipment, although that is, of course, part of it. But your Merit income must also cover these mandatory maintenance deductions, in addition to building a buffer for once you are deployed to actual real-world Battlefields, in order for your Faction Trait to function. If you do not complete enough DMs, your Merit will fall into a net-deficit every week. You can likely sustain this for a few months, just from the Assessment’s rewards, but if not…” She gave a pointed, razor-thin smile. “You will not enjoy the results.”

Someone in the front row raised a hand. “Professor—so the System can just take Merit whenever it wants?”

“Naturally. The System is effectively omnipotent, as far as we can tell. But: It only takes exactly what it says it will,” Hirana explained. “And it provides a full breakdown of the deduction if you bother to check your logs. This is not theft or anything of the sort. It is merely upkeep. A very literal Maintenance cost, to allow you to function at beyond superhuman levels. Without it, your bodies would collapse under the strain of your own Attributes.”

She let the words settle heavily over the crowd.

“So,” she concluded, tapping her datapad again to dissolve the projection, “complain if you must. Dislike it if you must. But accept it. Because there is no way around it. You receive. You pay. That is the exchange; nothing else to it.”

She explained that the weekly Maintenance cost was tied mainly to a Marine’s Point Value, but asked everyone to stop themselves from checking it right away—they would get to that later, once all the connected topics had been covered. 

There was more than one mechanic linked to PV in today’s lecture, she informed them.

‘Fuck,’ Thea thought immediately upon hearing that, stomach dropping. ‘I have the highest PV of anyone in the whole damn Faction at my own level, according to the “Without Equal” Accomplishment… If the pre-Assessment numbers weren’t lying, my weekly bill is going to be insane. And there’s even more tied to it, too? Please let there be some way to lower that thing… My Merit economy is going to fucking implode otherwise…!’

Professor Hirana, naturally, had no time to spare for Thea’s silent panic. 

She moved right along into the consequences of failing to pay upkeep.

“Now, the System is not unreasonable,” she said, leaning forward slightly. “If you cannot pay your weekly cost, it will grant you a one-month exemption. During that time you must gather both, all of the missed Merit and the following week’s Merit. Should you fail to do so, you will enter what is commonly referred to as a state of Deterioration.”

A wave of uneasy whispers rippled across the hall. 

Thea heard several nervous curses echoing her own thoughts. 

None of this sounded particularly pleasant.

“Deterioration,” Hirana continued, “is the symptom of the System clawing back some of the energy invested into your body. You will diminish. Your muscles will weaken. If your Vitality enhancements had halted your aging, that will resume. Your mental and physical faculties will return toward a more human baseline over the span of a month.”

She lifted a single finger, making sure every Recruit was paying attention.

“However, note this clearly: The System enacts these changes gradually. There have been zero confirmed cases of death caused by biological failure during Deterioration. And if you consider the logic, it is quite obvious why: Any previously Integrated individual is a potential future Participant. Should they return, the System benefits. Allowing them to die would be a net loss of energy—and the Allbright System is many, many things, but wasteful is not one of them.”

The Professor went on to give a rough rundown of how Deterioration usually progressed, stressing that it was essentially the System pulling back the energy it had once invested into a Marine. 

The Attributes someone had invested into the most would lose the most, as was logical.

The System generally left an ex-Participant at anywhere between one-third to one-tenth of their former capability, depending on how much total investment the System had put into them in the first place. 

The more the System had poured into an Attribute, the higher the final percentage loss thereof after Deterioration. The final numbers one would be left over with, would be based on the final deteriorated values or baseline human capabilities—whichever number was higher.

To make it clearer, she gave a concrete example: A Prime T1 Marine with their main Attributes in the low-20s and their lesser Attributes around five or six. 

After Deterioration, their primary Attributes would land somewhere around a two-point-five, while the rest would settle closer to one-point-five.

“Wouldn’t that mean we’d still be superhuman even after going through Deterioration?” one Recruit asked once the example wrapped up.

Professor Hirana nodded. “Yes, that would be an accurate description. Once you are Integrated, you will almost always stay at the peak of human capability, even if you stop participating in the System’s competition—”

Thea barely heard the rest. 

Her mind had slipped away from the lecture as a different thought clawed its way to the front.

‘If the System does this whole Deterioration thing once someone basically retires from conflict… then the Old Man would’ve been in that state too, right?’ The idea twisted strangely in her chest, a kind of mental dissonance she couldn’t shake. 

Even with every miracle-like thing she had seen the Allbright System do—everything it had done to her—she couldn’t make everything fit together. ‘But… he was stronger back then than Isabella is right now… How is that possible if he was already fully deteriorated by then?’

She was sure of it. 

Even if it had been years since she’d last seen him, even if she’d been a lot younger and more naive about the realities of the universe, she remembered him hefting wrecked old-tech trucks like they were nothing. 

Just casually lifting them during their routine expeditions into the undercity’s ruins.

Even Isabella—Isabella, who could punch straight through rockcrete walls if she felt like it by now—would have to plant her feet and put her full weight behind something like that, maybe even require a helping hand or two.

‘So how…?’

How could someone supposedly drained back to near-baseline still do that?

The hairs on her arms prickled at the thought.

‘I… I don’t actually know what Tier he was, do I…? Or even what rank. Now that I think about it, he never did talk about how far up the ladder he’d gone... I just always assumed he’d been a regular grunt because of how hard he always went after the brass, but… if his deteriorated Strength was higher than Isabella’s is now, then his fully maintained Strength would’ve had to be over 100—maybe even 150…’

Her eyes widened as the numbers lined up in her head. 

It wasn’t her math that was off. 

It was her quiet, unspoken assumptions—assumptions she now realized had never been grounded in anything but her own expectations.

‘For Attributes like that, he had to be way above Tier 1. Even Tier 3 wouldn’t cut it for that… Just who the fuck was the Old Man before he retired?!’

A cold shiver ran down her spine, equal parts shock and curiosity, and she made a mental note right then and there: Next time they talked, she was going to pry the damn answers to all of those questions out of him—no matter how long it took.

Ship-duty month couldn’t come fast enough. 

She managed to pull her attention back to the Professor’s voice after a few moments, letting the unsettling thought drift to the back of her mind for now—there was nothing she could really do about it anyway—just as Professor Hirana began moving into the next topic. 

“Now, as promised, there is another mechanic we’re going to explore today, which is directly influenced by your PV. A mechanic that is, quite literally, the most important thing in each of your lives going forward, as long as you are UHF Marines: Our Faction Trait,” she announced, right as the datascreen behind her shifted to display, in bold letters:

SOUL TRANSFER

A brief wave of murmurs rolled through the hall, and Thea couldn’t fault anyone for it. 

Even Lucas, who had pretty much remained stoically silent throughout the entire lecture, let out an involuntary hum at the mention of their Faction Trait. 

It was the very reason other Factions called them “undead,” and the reason they were all sitting here now—instead of having been reduced to dust by the sweeping laser the UHF had originally used to force the Integration on everyone below.

Without access to this Trait, any death would be final, same as it was for everyone else.

Thea leaned forward in her seat, focusing all her attention on the Professor. 

The rest of the hall seemed to do the same, the room settling into a tense, absolute silence for the first time since the lecture had begun.

A sly smile tugged at the Professor’s mouth as she looked over the silent hall.

“I’m glad you understand the weight of what comes next. Good… Very good.”

She eased the class into the core misunderstandings first. 

Some points she spoke plainly, others she merely summarized for brevity.

“First: It’s called Soul Transfer, not ‘Respawn Me.’ People joke about it, but the distinction matters. As you climb the Tiers, you’ll learn this Trait is far more than a simple ‘come back to life’ button. Treat it with the respect and reverence it deserves.”

She moved on, tapping her stylus against the podium.

“Second: The cost paid in Merit is required instantly—the moment the Trait is supposed to activate. There is no grace period, no borrowing, no hoping the System is feeling merciful that day. If you don’t have enough Merit on the spot, the Trait simply won’t trigger and you will stay dead—forever.”

A ripple of discomfort passed through the room. 

She let it settle before continuing.

“And third: Any death outside the DDS applies a permanent stacking penalty to all future uses. I cannot stress this enough—every death stays with you. For your entire lives. Some Marines forget that and burn through their Trait uses early on, thinking they’re untouchable. They are not. Most of them, unfortunately, learn this the hard way.”

She paused long enough for a few throats to swallow.

Then the datascreen behind her shifted to a clean bell-curve graph, as she recapped the framework behind the Trait’s cost.

“The cost of Soul Transfer scales off three main factors: Your PV, the distance to the nearest Respawn Chamber, and the total number of deaths you’ve already accumulated in your career.”

She tapped at the curve on the datascreen with her, now extended, stylus.

“The distance modifier is the tricky one. It doesn’t follow a simple linear pattern. On ground-based battlefields, yes—the further you are from the nearest Chamber, the higher the cost, more or less, but things are more complicated than a simple “every km is an extra percentage of cost”. There are several “zones” that are considered the same cost around a Marine’s body, and price increases are based on those zones. Some zones are small, others are large. It’s almost impossible to get an exact, accurate measure for it on the ground—only the local command will have the exact numbers available.”

She flicked to a new slide showing vast space between ships and stations.

“Now space complicates everything even further. Distances out there are huge, as you know. If the System applied normal increases using the same logic as on the ground, you’d Zero-out before your first respawn. So it compensates. In space, the ‘distance cost’ is heavily compressed, while zone sizes generally stay the same.”

Thea continued listening as the Professor pushed deeper into the nuance.

“However—and this is where I usually lose quite a few Marines—this compression does not apply inside the ships. Respawning within a ship defaults back to ground rules, but only if Respawn Chambers are still intact and cheaper to use than space-rules would be. That’s why you will sometimes end up with odd situations where respawning three decks up on the same vessel costs nearly the same as respawning hundreds of kilometers away on a neighbouring ship. And if those Chambers are destroyed… then you don’t respawn five decks up. You respawn on a completely different ship instead.”

Thea was already scribbling down notes, copying the rough shape of the bell-curve onto her datapad as fast as she could. 

She kept one ear tuned to the Professor, though half her mind groaned at how absurdly complicated the System insisted on being with all this.

‘Great. So you don’t even get exact numbers—just rough ideas,’ she thought, feeling a headache start to form. ‘Guess we’re meant to just… hope it’s affordable when we need it.’

She wasn’t the only one frustrated; the tense quiet had shifted into restless murmurs and annoyed whispers spreading through the lecture hall.

The Professor lifted one hand, palm open, signaling for silence. 

Once the room had finally calmed again, she continued speaking—more gently this time.

“I understand this is vague and not exactly comforting. So, after the lecture, I will provide the full zone-coefficients, distance multipliers and bell-curve references. You’ll be able to review all of them at your own pace and start learning about them on your time.”

She tapped the datascreen behind her, and new graphs briefly flickered into view.

“More importantly, however,” she continued, “is that when you’re deployed, Command will always ask for your current Merit status before you’re allowed anywhere near the frontline. They will track each of your profiles and make sure you aren’t sent into zones where the nearest zone would put you outside your safe-respawn range. That is their job. Just like it is your job to fight—so they can handle the numbers in the backline without getting their asses blown up.”

The sudden shift into blunt language snapped a ripple of surprised chuckles through the hall. 

Even Lucas and Thea couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“Every Battlefield will come with a minimum requirement for frontline deployment,” Professor Hirana went on. “That requirement is roughly three times your System-stated Faction Trait cost. If you don’t have enough Merit to meet that threshold, you won’t be deployed to the front. You’ll be shifted into logistics or other backline work until you earn enough Merit to be considered fit-for-duty again. Rest assured—the UHF cares a great deal about your survival as individual Marines.”

A sly grin crossed her face.

“After all, we’ve invested quite a lot of resources into each and every one of you. We expect a solid return on that investment. Throwing you straight into a meat grinder doesn’t exactly make for great dividends.”

More chuckles rippled across the hall, but she pressed on quickly.

“Now, let’s get more specific about both Maintenance and the Faction Trait. As I said earlier, both are directly tied to your Point Value—the PV the System assigns you based on your overall combat potential. Whether or not that PV is an accurate measure of your worth is a discussion for another day. What matters here is that the PV determines both of these costs directly.”

She tapped the datascreen behind her. “Your weekly Maintenance fee is equal to two-point-five percent of your PV, rounded down to the nearest whole Merit point. Meanwhile, your Faction Trait cost is equal to a whopping ten percent of your PV, also rounded down.”

Then she raised a finger.

“However. Deaths matter, as mentioned earlier. The distance modifier as well, but we already covered it, so let’s focus on the deaths. On top of that baseline ten percent, you add an extra two percent for every prior use of the Trait. And after all base and distance multipliers are applied, there is a final additional five percent increase for each prior death.”

The datascreen shifted to display the exact formula:

Maintenance: 2.5% of PV per week

Soul Transfer: (10% of PV (+2% per prior use) × ∆d [Distance Modifier]) × (1 + 5% per prior use)

A few seconds later, Professor Hirana clapped sharply, making half the hall jump—most of them were too busy scribbling numbers to notice her building up to it.

“Now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for: Your personal costs. You may now check your System Interface for your PV. However, it might be easier to open your [Ongoing Costs] tab, which will show both your current Maintenance fee—calculated every System tick, so around a thousand times per second—and your baseline Faction Trait cost all in one view.

“I recommend checking your PV first, so you actually understand where the numbers come from… But, really, I’m not here to babysit you.”

With that, she shrugged, sat down in the singular armchair on the podium, crossed one leg over the other, and adopted a relaxed posture.

“You have ten minutes. Copy whatever information you want from the datascreen—yes, I said that you’ll get all of it sent to your Interfaces after the lecture, but some of you insist on taking notes anyway, so who am I to say no to that? And check your personal information as instructed. Then we’ll continue.”

Thea met Lucas’ eyes, the Defensive Heavy flinching just a little at the contact, before both of them gave a small nod—as if to say, “Let’s do it.”

They had talked about their Point Values earlier that morning, an idle topic that had come up naturally before they’d even entered the lecture hall. 

Both had been curious how their PVs had shifted since the Assessment. 

According to Lucas, nobody besides Corvus had bothered checking theirs since then—not out of secrecy, but simply because nobody had seen a reason to yet. 

Too much had been happening.

Thea hadn’t been able to confirm whether Kara had checked hers either, so the two of them had been wondering if maybe they should ask Corvus to turn it into a little squad moment. A repeat of their pre-Assessment “tradition”—a shared check-in on progress, something to mark how far they’d come.

But the lecture had made all of that potential scheming pointless now. 

There was no reason to wait anymore, not when the information had suddenly become relevant in a very practical way. The brief chance for a fun squad moment had slipped through their fingers, but there was no helping that now—it wouldn’t be the last time they would get around to comparing their progress.

At the very least, doing it right before the next Assessment felt as good a moment as any to get the whole squad together again and compare how far they had come from one Assessment to the next.

With that in mind, Thea opened her System Interface and navigated to the menu in question.

First, she pulled up the [System Prowess Evaluation] Interface—

“Fuck,” she blurted before she could stop herself, earning a slightly startled side-eye from Lucas.

She waved him off. “Nothing. Don’t worry…” Then another thought hit her. “We’re keeping it a secret until we can bring it up with Corvus, right? We can still do the whole squad-wide reveal thing. Just because we know our own PVs doesn’t mean everyone else needs to know right away.”

Lucas considered it for all of a heartbeat before a wide grin stretched across his face. 

“Sounds like a plan.”

Thea nodded and focused on the shimmering blue window floating in front of her.

‘This is going to absolutely wreck my Merit economy… Over the full year, this’ll chew through several Digital Missions worth of rewards, just from the damn Maintenance alone—not even counting any purchases or whatever…’

[System Prowess Evaluation]
Point Value: 1,773

With a heavy sigh, she opened the [Ongoing Costs] Interface next.

[Ongoing Costs]
Weekly Maintenance Fee: 44 System Merit
Base Faction Trait Cost: 177 System Merit

‘This is ridiculous… I’m basically dying once a month just in raw Merit costs for the Maintenance,’ Thea thought to herself. ‘Is this what paying rent is like…? The Old Man was always complaining about it… I think I finally get it now.’

She added a mental note to check with Professor Hirana once the lecture ended, to see if there was any way—any at all—to lower her own PV…

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[ND] Chapter 156 - Improvements

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Chapter 151 - Choices has just released on RR with no major changes.

For the Fixers, this chapter is new.

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Testing, Testing, One Two Three.

Oh? Just Sera learning about her new musculature? Neat.

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I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is the link to the chapter:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1fU7GfhtEAP02sjFrbOxRA-4xd-lXJK_EUrnQ1dOHIpc/edit?usp=sharing

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Chapter 156 - Improvements

I slowly came back to consciousness a couple hours later, drifting up out of a heavy, dreamless haze instead of snapping awake the way the Rest Function usually forced me to. 

It threw me off more than I wanted to admit. 

Beds, for me, had mostly been glorified rest-pods for the Rest Function, not something I used the normal way barring exceptional circumstances.

The first thing I noticed, once my brain stopped sloshing around and actually settled into place, was that my body had finally calmed down. 

The Sprites had stopped whatever hyperfocused surgery spree they’d been running. 

The burning hotness that had assaulted my entire body for hours on end had faded almost entirely. What lingered now was the familiar, dull ache of a long, hard workout—unpleasant, sure, but definitely manageable.

When my eyes opened properly and my vision adjusted to the light, the second thing hit me.

Valeria had actually kept her word. 

Which… Of course she had. 

If there was one truth I had learned about her since arriving in this world, it was that she valued her word like it was a binding contract etched into her bones. If she said she’d stay, then she would stay—even if it made absolutely no sense for her own health.

She still sat in the chair she’d dragged over, her posture impeccable even as she slept, her head tilted just slightly to the side. A few strands of ebony hair had slipped out of place, brushing her cheek. 

Even asleep, her expression held that weird mix of sternness and elegance that only someone like her could manage. Her overall exhaustion was obvious now that she wasn’t actively holding herself together too; the whole right side of her body still hanging lifeless, her arm resting awkwardly against the chair like a forgotten piece of clothing.

And, of course, she was sleeping on a chair. Again.

For the second time in two days. 

Because of me.

I cringed inwardly, guilt crawling up my spine like a cold fingertip.

‘Seriously… She should’ve just gone to the couch after confirming I wasn’t about to explode. What are you doing, Valeria? You can’t keep falling apart like this...’

That faint pang of pity settled into my chest before I could stop it, and it felt bizarre—completely backwards. 

This was the woman I’d pegged as a final boss the moment I’d woken up in her world. 

The kind of monster you didn’t simply fight—you prepared for extensively before even facing them to begin with. The kind who would poison her own children with a torture-grade neurotoxin just to make a point, just to remove a weakness.

But that view had twisted itself into something else entirely, hadn’t it? Something thoroughly weird, something I couldn’t put clean words to yet, no matter how I tried.

I blinked the last of the fog out of my mind and pulled up the cerebral interface to check the time. Three and a half hours had passed. Just before Midday. 

Which meant I’d basically been in this bed for what… twenty-eight hours? Give or take? 

No wonder my stomach let out a pathetic, drawn-out groan loud enough to echo in the quiet room, that made me worry for a moment it would wake up Valeria—it didn’t seem to. 

A sharp hunger pang followed it a second later, like my body was reminding me I hadn’t put anything in it since… Well, since the dinner when everything had gone to shit, really.

And, to make matters worse, nature was calling with the subtlety of a demolition charge.

I sighed, already tired again, and started fighting my way out of my restraints—also known as the soft, traitorous blanket that immediately tried to drag me back under the moment I shifted even a little. 

Without the Rest Function snapping me awake at full power, getting out of bed was stupidly hard, it turned out—I had forgotten just how pathetic we humans really were when it came to comfortable blankets and mattresses, huh?

“Come on… let me go,” I muttered quietly at the blanket, like that would somehow help.

Little by little, I managed to peel myself free, each movement sluggish and half-hearted as the comfort tugged at me. But hunger beat comfort, and bladder beat both, so I forced myself upright—wincing all the while as the last threads of muscle-ache reminded me they were very much still there—and swung my legs over the edge of the bed.

My careful movements were still more than enough to wake Valeria—apparently she slept lighter than a damn tripwire—because the second I had shifted my weight even slightly, her eyes had snapped open and tracked me like she hadn’t slept at all. 

“Good. The Sprites have concluded their work, and I am not detecting any lingering activity,” she said, voice low and slightly rough-edged from sleep but still carrying that smooth corpo cadence I had come to expect from her.

She straightened in the chair, spine pulling taut despite the dead weight of her right side, and swept a hand through her hair in one practiced motion before gesturing loosely toward the doorway. “There is food on the table. It is acceptable cold, but the reheater is at your disposal if you want it at temperature.”

I threw her a quick nod and a grateful, “Thank you,” before making a break for the bathroom, because priorities.

A blissful few minutes later, I found myself slumping into one of the dining chairs like a starved animal, a reheated noodle pack steaming in front of me. The very first bite hit like salvation, and any lingering pretense of dignity evaporated as I tore into the food with single-minded, borderline feral focus.

Valeria limped out of the bedroom a moment later, the movement uneven but still somehow carrying that same old corporate poise—like even gravity itself had to file a request before daring to make her stumble. 

She crossed the living room with that stiff, half-ruined stride of hers and eased herself into the chair across from me just as I kept inhaling noodles like a starved sewer-rat. 

A faint, almost amused curl tugged at one corner of her mouth, but she thankfully didn’t say anything. Just unlocked one of her datapads, flicked through what looked like a mountain of reports, and let me eat in peace.

Only when my bowl was scraped clean did she set the device aside and level her steely-grey eyes at me fully.

“How are you feeling, Seraphine?” she asked. “Do you notice any changes? Anything unusual in your proprioception, balance, fine control? Sensory drift? The Sprites enacted an extensive restructuring, I would not be surprised to hear about changes.”

I paused, chopsticks still in my hand, and actually let myself think about it. 

The walk to the bathroom, the return trip, even just chewing and swallowing… it had all felt normal. 

Like my body hadn’t really changed at all.

No sudden bursts of speed. No twitchy over-corrections. Nothing of the sort.

“Not really,” I finally said. “Everything feels… exactly like it did before.”

But even as I said it, I could tell there was a thin veil overlaying everything—like I was holding myself back without meaning to. 

A sort of subconscious limiter. 

I was moving the way I remembered moving, not the way my body probably could move now.

Before the second Rank-up, after Reflex had hit six, I’d fumbled pretty obviously with the sudden boost in precision and speed. My fingers had moved too sharply; my centre of gravity had felt wrong the entire time, even while laying down. 

This time, though, everything was smoothed out. 

Almost suspiciously so.

I sat with my thoughts for a moment, weighing whether saying anything more could potentially backfire, but honestly, I couldn’t find a single reason to stay quiet on this front. 

Valeria had clearly bought the “I don’t know where this comes from” angle so far, and I genuinely didn’t understand the System’s enhancement mechanics well enough to accidentally expose anything about it in the first place.

“It… Is kind of weird, actually,” I ultimately admitted. “It’s like… there’s a limiter on me now? I can tell my body’s different, somehow. Like it’s stronger and faster, even more precise, but I’m not tapping into it. Almost like I’m matching… what I used to be? I think I might be able to force it?”

I moved my arm a bit, clenching my fingers in front of my face, searching for the right wording. “There’s this… full-body pressure, too. Kind of like when you’re clenching every muscle without meaning to?”

I grimaced as the words came out, because they sounded even more disjointed aloud than they had in my head.

Valeria didn’t seem bothered by my clumsy explanation. 

If anything, her attention sharpened the second the words left my mouth. She leaned forward just slightly—barely a shift, but enough to signal that whatever I’d said had tripped some internal alarm bell in that sharp mind of hers.

She hummed once, low and thoughtful, then put away her datapad fully and rose from her chair. 

With a flick of her fingers, she gestured for me to follow.

“Come. We will run a few tests, Seraphine,” she said, already moving toward the most open stretch of floor in the apartment. Her tone had shifted into that casual-corporate cadence she always used when she was being perfectly polite while brooking absolutely zero contra. 

“Allowing you to step outside without an accurate picture of your current capabilities would be beyond churlish a move. I will not entertain objections on this matter.”

I didn’t bother trying any. 

For one, I wasn’t stupid enough to pick a fight I didn’t even need to win in the first place. 

And two, she was absolutely right—the idea of walking back into the dangerous world outside the apartment blind to whatever upgrades the System had rammed into my body sounded like a recipe for yet another disaster.

So I just nodded and fell into step behind her.

If Valeria wanted to run tests, then tests we would run. 

And honestly? I wanted the answers just as badly as she did, if not more.

Valeria shifted her stance—barely a change, just the faintest alignment of her shoulders and hips—and raised one hand between us, palm open; but it was enough to send a jolt of adrenaline through me.

“For the baseline,” she said. “Do not attempt to push through whatever internal limiter you described. React only with what feels natural to you right now. We need a reference point before we evaluate the divergence.”

I nodded. There was nothing to argue about; it made sense. 

She had no real workable pre-Sprite data on me—just scattered impressions from the chaos of yesterday at best—so this was the fastest method to get anything workable. 

Not scientifically accurate or anything, but useful for what we wanted.

“Square up,” she added. “Miss Kanis did drill that much into you, did she not?”

“She did,” I confirmed, already shifting into a basic stance. 

Feet planted, shoulders loose, hands up. 

Nothing fancy. Just stable and open for a variety of reactions.

Valeria stepped in closer, lifting her hand again, palm hovering at chest height. “When my hand moves toward you, you are to slap it aside. Do not worry about being too forceful, simply move as fast as you can. I will evaluate reaction time, arm speed, and hand-eye coordination based off of those results.”

I nodded, focusing. 

Locked onto her arm, her fingers, the tension in her shoulder… Waiting.

And then—A shock hit my nerves.

Her hand was already moving. 

Already almost on me. 

I hadn’t even seen the transition. 

No wind-up. No tell. Just a blur as my vision caught up.

Instinct fired before thought did. 

My hand snapped up and slapped hers aside with a sharp crack that echoed off the apartment walls.

Valeria didn’t flinch. Didn’t comment. She simply nodded once, a clinical little dip of her chin, and brought her hand back to center like nothing had happened.

‘Okay, serious-mode. Got it. No fucking around. Focus up, Sera.’

I tightened my stance, breath steadying, eyes locked on Valeria’s hand like it was the only thing in the world that mattered…

—

I slapped her hand away ten more times before Valeria finally lowered it, giving me a moment to catch my breath. Sweat clung to my forehead—not from physical exertion, but from the iron-fisted focus it took just to track her movements. 

Trying to catch a corpo-trained monster like her on the draw was… intense.

“Your average reaction time in these tests hovers around 166 milliseconds as it stands,” she said, tone smooth and matter-of-fact, but edged with a faint approval. “That is quite good for pure visual reactions. I am pleased.”

A weird pulse of pride crawled up my chest at that, warm and annoying, and I shoved it down. I didn’t need her praise. Definitely didn’t want it. Nope.

“Your hand-eye coordination is already more than adequate for someone your age,” she continued, all corporate assessment and sharp angles again. “No doubt Miss Kanis’ training has contributed significantly to this. Close-quarters work practically breeds advancements on this front. As for your overall speed-to-contact, you are markedly above average as well—but that was to be expected. Weeks under Miss Kanis will always outstrip the training of others your age.”

Her expression hardened as she raised her hand again. 

I automatically squared up in response.

“Now,” she said, voice cutting clean, “push past that limitation you described earlier. Give it your all, Seraphine. I want to see the extent of what the Sprites have made of you. Hold nothing back.”

I nodded, jaw tightening. My focus tunneled inward as I tried to feel out the limiter I’d mentioned—the strange, subconscious tension that kept my body operating at its pre-upgrade baseline.

It was there. Faint, but very much real. 

A pressure threading through my musculature, like invisible clamps holding everything just shy of full output.

‘Alright, Sera… let’s see what happens when you break the damn thing open.’ 

It took another few moments to figure out how to tease my muscles into full output, but the moment I did, I knew that I had it.

It felt like a lead blanket slipped clean off my back. 

One second I was bracing against that invisible pressure—like I’d been walking around in wet clothes without realizing it—and the next, all that drag just… vanished. 

My muscles didn’t tighten or flare up or shudder; they just clicked into place, every fiber suddenly awake and eager, as if they’d been politely waiting for me to stop babying them.

My fingers tingled. My shoulders loosened. Even my stance shifted without conscious thought, knees bending a hair lower, weight settling in a way that felt aggressively more natural—like this was how I was supposed to move.

‘Oh. Oh, that’s new,’ I thought, pulse picking up. ‘Alright, Sera… limiter’s off.’

I met Valeria’s eyes, and gave her the smallest, sharpest nod—permission and confirmation wrapped together. 

Her hand twitched a moment later—barely a suggestion of movement, more like the idea of motion than the real thing.

I moved before the thought even formed.

A sharp crack rang out, louder and cleaner than anything from the earlier tests, snapping through the living room as my palm smacked hers aside like it weighed nothing.

I froze, staring at my own hand with my mouth half open, wide-eyed and frankly a little horrified at how different that strike had felt. 

There’d been no delay, no wind-up, no conscious decision—just pure instinct firing through a body that wasn’t playing by the same rules anymore.

“Again,” Valeria commanded before my brain even caught back up.

That snapped me right back into neutral, feet shifting automatically to reset, muscles humming with that barely-contained power as I locked onto Valeria’s hand like it was the only thing in the world…

—

Ten more times, the living room snapped with that same sharp crack. 

By the end of it, when Valeria finally lowered her hand for real, I was sweating like I’d just run laps around the entire floor.

My muscles, though, barely felt it. 

They were warm—pleasantly warm, even—like I’d been doing a light warm-up instead of playing reaction-chess against a corporate monster. 

The lingering soreness from earlier, however, that dull full-body ache I’d woken up with, had vanished entirely. It genuinely felt as if actually pushing the muscles to their new limits had shaken out whatever stiffness the Sprites had left behind.

Valeria, on the other hand, was giving me a look I had never seen from her before. 

Fascination, threaded with confusion—and beneath both, a thin, unmistakable line of concern.

She didn’t allow the silence to linger.

“Your improvement across every metric is… remarkable. Concerning, even,” she said matter-of-factly. “This level of progression is not something that should be feasible in such a short timeframe. I find myself… uncertain of the implications.”

My eyes widened just a touch, a silent curse catching in the back of my throat.

Maybe agreeing to this kind of testing hadn’t been the smartest of things—if anything, this was bound to crank her interest in me up even more, which was exactly what I didn’t want to have happen.

But then again… Thinking about it for a second longer, after she’d watched uncountable Sprites crawl all over and into my damn body and rearrange me on a fundamental level, I doubted she could’ve gotten more interested if she tried. 

Whatever questions she had, they had probably already hit maximum saturation the moment I started glowing like a broken neon sign earlier today.

‘Probably no additional harm done then…’ I decided, even if the knot in my stomach refused to fully settle. ‘And maybe it isn’t the worst thing in the world…? If anyone can dig up something about what the System is doing to me, it’s her, not me poking around blind for the next five years.’

Valeria, still in full analyst-mode, carried on without missing a beat. “As for your reaction speed… your average was approximately 128 milliseconds in these tests. For an unaugmented human, this is starting to push the upper boundary of what is realistically achievable through purely visual reaction… It is, in every sense, extraordinary.”

My brain tried to catch up, but the numbers just sort of clattered around uselessly.

She inhaled slowly before continuing. “Your hand-eye coordination lagged initially—expected, given your sudden spike in available speed—but self-corrected quickly. Toward the end, I would estimate a functional increase of around… forty-six percent in speed-to-contact. That includes your recovery and precision adjustments. In layman’s terms: You have become considerably faster and more precise than you were, Seraphine. Remarkably so.”

I nodded, somewhat numb. 

Hearing it out loud made it sound even more illegal than I had feared. 

Several years of specialized, targeted training bootstrapped into my body in under a day—no wonder my limbs still felt a little alien.

‘Kenzie is going to be furious… absolutely livid,’ I thought, heat prickling under my skin at the mental image of her stunned, offended expression. ‘And Jin… yeah, good luck landing another punch on me, boxer boy.’

Assuming neither of them had magically undergone life-changing upgrades overnight—which, given the nature of cybernetics, bionics and genetics as a whole, was not happening anytime soon.

Valeria let her gaze drift unfocused for a long, heavy moment before exhaling sharply. “I see no practical downside in all of this. While the… methodology remains entirely opaque to me, the results are unequivocally in your favor. I will conduct a deeper inquiry into why the World chose to intervene in this manner—and what, exactly, it might have done—but in the meantime, I see no justification in keeping you confined any longer.”

The capital W rattled around in my head again.

She lifted her good hand, halting any sudden enthusiasm I might have had. “Do not let the rush deceive you. These are capabilities, not shields. You are not invincible, and I will not have you behave as though you are. I expect responsibility and restraint, as you have shown thus far. As I must manage the remainder of this disaster’s fallout. Do not add needlessly to my plate. Understood?”

“Yes,” I said, steady. “I’ll stay out of trouble. Promise.”

For once, the promise didn’t even feel like a lie.

I had no intention of getting into any dangerous situations for at least a few days, minimum.

Valeria gave a single, firm nod. “Good. I will be resting for some time; actual rest, this time, hopefully. Should anything urgent arise however, contact me immediately. If I am not present when you return from your errands, do not concern yourself. Simply proceed as usual. I have a considerable backlog to address the moment I am once again fit to handle it.”

And just like that, she turned and walked into the bedroom I’d sprinted out of earlier.

A moment later, the door cracked open again and she reappeared—only long enough to set my DuraPack and neatly folded clothes beside the entryway. 

No words, no lingering stare. 

Just a quiet, exhausted efficiency before she closed the door behind her and vanished into the dim room.

“Huh…” I muttered, suddenly very aware of how empty the apartment felt without her presence looming in the background.

So much had happened in such a ridiculously short span of time that my brain felt like it was still buffering through the backlog. 

Trying to make sense of all of it now was like trying to assemble a puzzle mid-fall—pieces everywhere, nothing staying in place long enough to matter.

Still, one thing lodged itself firmly enough to act on: I needed to get out of here for a bit. 

Get some distance from Valeria, from the tests, from the Upgrades, from all the capital-W World nonsense she’d hinted at. 

Let my thoughts breathe in something else before they suffocated me.

I scooped up my things and dumped them on the couch, taking a moment to double-check everything out of habit—knives, check; spare clothes, check; DuraPack, check; mental stability, debatable but potentially workable.

It felt like ages since I’d last seen Mr. Shori, but the memory of warm broth and actual human interaction hit me like a beacon. And honestly? After twenty-eight hours of missed meals and being reconstructed at the cellular level several times… some additional food sounded like salvation.

The noodles Valeria had left me were fine, sure. But “fine” didn’t replenish all of that.

So I slipped into my Ela outfit, tightened the straps on every knife, and rolled my shoulders once to feel the new strength and finesse settle in with the outfit. 

The limiter was still off—and I’d probably leave it that way unless I figured out it somehow became a problem. I was quietly hoping that I would get used to this new “normal” rather quickly, as the speed, control and power it granted was truly exhilarating.

But it was time to go.

‘I could really go for some ramen right about now…’

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[Wolf Lord+ | Draft] Volume 2 - Interlude: Orbit

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Welcome to the draft release of Volume 2 - Interlude: Orbit for y'all.

As always, a quick reminder that this chapter is still in the process of being workshopped by me and that this is simply the first-draft.

And also: Please do not read the chapters here on Patreon, but go for the googledoc, .pdf or .epub instead. Patreon butchers all forms of formatting and you're missing out on easier and more enjoyable reading experiences.

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I've had WAY too much fun writing this one.

The initial Peria PoV was meant to be very short and the introduction to the System 102 lecture, as a comedic relief. But it got out of hand cause I was having too much fun.

So I added more stuff and another PoV to make the seamless transition to the lecture in the next one.

I think it makes for a good interlude, all things considered!

Let me know how y'all feel about it!

------

I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is the link to the chapter:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Na0iANEIh_c0mfN2LGeF9My9oJImLTO_6S1Jc4SJUw0/edit?usp=sharing

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Volume 2 - Interlude: Orbit

“Most people misunderstand Skills—not out of ignorance, but because the System makes them look deceptively simple.

“A Skill isn’t a reward for dabbling. 

“It is the System’s acknowledgement that the knowledge inside your head has reached a level of completion and consistency that it considers ‘fit for purpose.’

“Take [Mathematics], for example: Nearly every human alive can add, subtract, multiply, and divide. Many can manage basic algebra, a bit of geometry, maybe even a touch of calculus depending on where they grew up. 

“But simply knowing pieces of a topic does not earn the Skill.

“The System demands roughly ninety-five percent mastery of every fundamental sub-topic it considers relevant. What counts as ‘fundamental,’ however, is… flexible. Some areas require total understanding and perfect execution—such as addition, which the System treats as an absolute. Other fields, especially those tied to physical action like [Driving] or [Climbing], allow for a wider margin. There, the System cares less about rigid perfection and more about consistent, reliable performance across real-world conditions.

“After all, even the System cannot expect you to learn how to drive every single vehicle in the known universe, with every single configuration. Instead, it demands conceptual proficiency—the understanding of how to approach driving any vehicle in existence of the same class, to a satisfactory degree.

“Now, once you pass the halfway mark toward qualification—fifty percent, give or take—the System will, upon request, show you what topics remain for you to learn, to be granted the Skill. But it won’t hand you the answers, of course. It will simply show you which sub-topics are incompletely understood.

“And here is where most learners hit the wall: If you lack any conceptual foothold for a sub-Skill, the System will simply refuse to display it. It will mark it only as ‘???’. 

“This is not malicious. It is simply the System saying, ‘You do not yet understand enough to even comprehend the question.’

“Entire sections of the highest level of the [Physics] Skill remain completely shrouded behind those question marks. Not due to secrecy, but because humanity as a whole has yet to discover the underlying principles in the first place. 

“Marines often circumvent these kinds of walls with Skill Classes—paid training modules designed by the UHF that fill in the missing blanks efficiently; just like an intensive university course on a Core-planet would.

“There is, naturally, always that last path available—the slow path, the frustrating path—which has been the true engine of human progress since our very beginning: 

“When confronted with the System’s hardline stance on not helping us over the hurdles, we are forced to push outward. To experiment, to question, to discover what we now know must exist, somewhere.

“So if the System shows you a ‘???’, do not despair. You are staring at the very boundary of your knowledge. But you are not forced to stay there. It is an invitation, not a reprimand. 

“And if humanity is ever going to push past the Bubble and stand our ground against whatever horrors or wonders wait outside our galaxy, then someone has to be bold enough to take those invitations. 

“To experiment. To dig. To learn the things nobody has ever learned before.

“Because raising the knowledge of one mind, even by a little, raises the knowledge of us all.”

—

[Excerpt from “Foundations of the Allbright System,” 7th Edition – Dr. Ellivar Mune – PFC903]

======

======

PoV: Peria Akin

“—magnified optics up to 24x easily attachable, as well as several after-market modifications for your consideration, if you’d like more customization options down the line,” Peria finished her sales pitch, handing over the weapon in question to her newest potential customer with the proper Abundant Ammunitions flourish: A slight bow, both hands offering the gun, and a bright, practiced smile.

He was yet another Recruit, fresh off his first Digital Mission if Peria had to guess, which meant he was probably in the market for a new partial license to replace the standard-issue rifles he’d likely carried through the Assessment and DM. 

Nothing overly exciting—but at least he’d come in with a clear idea of what he wanted. 

He had asked for someone experienced with the finer details of the weapons instead of settling for a basic clerk.

Peria could appreciate that.

Anything that got her talking about the war-engineering masterpieces Abundant Ammunitions had on offer was already a win in her book.

And frankly, the late shift had been painfully boring, so she was grateful for the distraction.

She watched the customer handle the gun—his demeanour curious and movements practiced, which in her opinion boded well for a potential sale. 

Still, her thoughts drifted. 

Her life had gone through one hell of a shake-up over the past few days, and she wasn’t sure what she had really fallen into quite yet.

Ever since the Thea McKay had shown up at the store—and then, by seemingly pure accident, elevated and hauled Peria out of the fire in rapid succession—things had spiraled in directions she never imagined possible.

First and foremost: She wasn’t the Senior Inventory Specialist of Abundant Ammunitions anymore. 

No, she had been slapped with a shiny new job title created specifically “for her expertise in dealing with technically versed VIPs,” as the talking heads put it. The title itself was ridiculous enough to make her wince every time she saw it:

“Expert Weapons Consultation Specialist.”

She still didn’t know what to make of it.

She hadn’t exactly learned anything new about weapons that she hadn’t known before, so going from senior to expert felt preposterous, but who was she to gainsay the talking heads?

And then again, the raise was rather substantial—she wasn’t the type to complain about that kind of upgrade, ever—but the so-called promotion hadn’t come with any sort of briefing. Just a datapad notification saying she was an Expert Weapons Consultation Specialist now, with no option to accept or decline either.

And so she was one—whatever that was supposed to mean.

She hadn’t been given any new duties, responsibilities, or guidance. 

Her day-to-day life was identical to before: Same store, same shelves, same long shifts. 

The only real changes were the new plaque on her uniform and the thicker pay-stub sitting in her account.

‘And that I’m now the go-to whenever Marines like this one show up,’ she thought, watching the Recruit handle the rifle she’d picked out for him based on his specs. ‘Thought that was already kind of the case before as well. So not really that much of a change after all…’

The weapon in question was a Battle-Rifle called the “Ruin”—a workhorse that could fit into almost any loadout, even if Marines rarely picked it for reasons that Peria could only chalk up to pure idiocy on the Corps’ part.

Out of every rifle in the store, the Ruin was one of the most balanced choices, at least in her personal and exceedingly humble opinion. 

Strong ammunition that could punch through anything short of Super-Heavy armor with proper aim, reliable in almost any conditions, a solid fire-rate if things got desperate, and enough after-market parts to turn it into whatever the user wanted—except for pure close-quarters combat, which no Battle-Rifle excelled at anyway.

‘And the ammo economy is way better than the AR-303 too… No idea why that thing became standard-issue,’ Peria thought with a shake of her head.

She had never understood the Corps’ obsession with that rifle.

Sure, it did everything “fine,” but nothing about it stood out at all. Which might have been the entire point, but if you were going to pick something as the weapon that every single Marine trained with, you’d think they’d choose something with at least a hint of flair or personality.

‘I swear they’re just—’

Her thoughts cut off as a chaotic alarm burst from her datapad, shrill and sudden. 

Peria yelped, nearly dropping the device as she scrambled awkwardly to catch it before it hit the floor—an unflattering few moments where she was half-balancing, half-jumping on one leg just to snatch it out of the air. 

With the datapad barely secured, she let out a sharp breath and shut off the shrill alarm, her heart beating in her throat for more than one reason. 

The surprise, obviously. 

But also the embarrassment of having done that in front of a customer, who had just about jumped out of his skin at the sudden noise—definitely Peria’s fault, considering she was the one who had set this alarm up. 

And, of course, the meaning behind the alarm didn’t help either.

Personal datapads weren’t allowed during work hours at any Abundant Ammunitions branch, so Peria had gotten creative with her setup to receive important messages while on shift—and there was only one person she considered important enough to justify all that effort for.

It hadn’t been hard to convince the local manager to let her script and connection bypass the usual red tape, after she explained it was so she could keep the ship’s number-one VIP in the loop with Abundant Ammunitions at all times.

She checked the forwarded message quickly, excitement bubbling the moment she saw the sender.

[Hey Peria!

[It’s me, Thea. I hope you remember me...?

[I was wondering if you’d like to talk about some weapons, particularly the Gram variants I bought from Abundant Ammunitions with your help recently. 

[I just finished my first Digital Mission with them and have fairly thoroughly tested them in live-fire conditions as I’d want to use them for, so I figured it would be a good time to bounce ideas off each other about a few things.

[Would tomorrow afternoon be good for you?

[If you find the time, I’d like for you to review the recording of the Digital Mission, which the Sovereign will grant you access to, should you accept. (I already cleared it with her and she says it’s ok!) It should help with giving you an idea of what we might talk about in regards to the weapons.

[If there’s any payment required to make sure you have the time to review everything before our meeting, or to free up your time for us to meet at… let’s say like 1700? Just let me know!

[Best wishes, Thea McKay]

Peria stared at the message like the datapad had grown a very literal human head to stare back at her. 

‘Why does she message me like she’s writing a corporate message, but then also go full casual in the way she actually types? What is happening here…?’ she thought.

It would’ve been so much easier to just pick one tone—either all formal or all casual—but not both mashed together like a weird hybrid. There had to be some sort of reason for this choice, Peria was certain, but she couldn’t even begin to figure it out at first glance.

“Is… is everything okay?” the Marine next to her asked tentatively, and Peria had to remind herself for a brief moment that she was, in fact, not alone.

“Ah—yes! My apologies for the startling sound. I’ve just received an important communication from headquarters. I’ll need to check on this, if you’d excuse me? I’ll send someone over to continue assisting you and help with any purchases you might want to finalize.”

The Marine hesitated for a moment but eventually gave her a short nod, before returning to look at the Ruin with a kind of focus that told Peria she was definitely missing out on a sale by leaving now—but Thea’s message was simply more important, so she quickly waved over one of her co-workers to pick up where she left off.

Rushing into the back rooms, she dropped into the nearest workbench chair and pulled the message back up, trying to make sense of the VIP’s request.

‘Figures she’d be one of the first to jump into a DM, huh?’ she chuckled to herself. 

She’d heard plenty about Alpha Squads and Aces, but meeting one in person—and seeing that drive firsthand—made it obvious why Thea had already completed a mission, even though the terminals had only opened earlier today.

‘So she wants to go over the Gram variants… She bought the Gauss and Ballistic ones, so those will definitely be part of it. But she’ll compare them to the Laser version too; that’s just how these things go,’ Peria mused, already jotting notes onto her datapad. 

She needed to be properly prepared for this, especially with a VIP like her.

She’d learned that the hard way after the too-close-for-comfort scare with the talking heads during Thea’s last visit. 

Messing up was not an option—she couldn’t rely on Thea coming to save her by accident once again. She had gotten the galactic-mulligan once already and that was all she would ever get.

“Tomorrow afternoon… around 1700?” She grimaced. “That’s about two hours after my shift starts. The manager’s going to lose it if I ask for time off on such short notice—even for a VIP. I’m going to have to ask her for payment and make this a semi-official thing, aren’t I…?”

She kept reading—and then froze.

‘What… What do you mean you “cleared it with the Sovereign”, Thea?! The ship?! You talked to the damn ship’s main AI and asked it—her, I guess—to give me access to your DM recording?! I don’t even have clearance! Not even close! And it’s the actual ship’s AI, Thea, you can’t just ask it to run personal errands for you…?!’

She set the datapad down, forcing herself through long, deep breaths until the panic stopped making her fingers tingle.

“No, Peria. Maybe you’re the one being unreasonable here…” she reminded herself out loud. The sound of her own voice helped ground her. “Clearly Thea already got the approval from the… the Sovereign itself, so she was absolutely right about it being possible. VIPs really are just built different from normal people like you. Stop thinking they follow the same rules… I’m sure this sort of thing is very common for Marines to do.”

Having calmed herself down with that reminder, she picked up the datapad again and read the entire message once more, nodding to herself absent-mindedly as she worked through the math in her head.

‘Yeah… I’ll need to ask her for payment on this. There’s no way I can review a full DM, plus prepare everything I need to make sure I don’t disappoint her, if I also have to finish today’s shift and start tomorrow’s before the meeting…’

She quickly added up the numbers: Around fifteen hours of lost work today and tomorrow combined—assuming their conversation didn’t end up lasting her entire shift.

‘Actually… It might be safer to assume I’ll be busy the whole day tomorrow. Thea might really want to go deep on this talk. Last time, I got the feeling she only left because she had to meet up with her friend…’

So, around eighteen hours lost with the rest of today and all of tomorrow.

Adding fifty percent on top for the private nature of the consultation and the short notice, plus another thirty percent for it being held inside Abundant Ammunitions’ store…

Peria paled at the number forming in her mind.

‘Did I mess up somewhere…?’ she wondered, even though she was pretty sure she hadn’t. 

Calculating things like this was part of the very first weeks of clerk training—just in case a Marine asked for a private consultation quote. 

Not necessarily for your consultation, but for someone’s.

Abundant Ammunitions always preferred giving a quick, close-enough estimate over making a customer wait for a perfect one. And Peria couldn’t balk at the policy. Most people would rather have a fast ballpark number than a flawless one twenty minutes later.

And she had always been good at ballpark numbers… yet she still ran through the math twice more, just to be sure.

‘Fuck me… There’s no way I can ask her for this many Credits just for talking to me!’

Her head slumped into her hands as she stared at the empty workbench.

Thea had saved her. And now she was practically forced to fleece the girl, when all Thea wanted to do was talk about guns?

How was that even remotely fair?

‘But the damn regulations are very clear on this… It’s too many hours for a manager to justify writing off. And they’d never agree to take the loss just because a VIP wants a private chat with an employee—they want the VIP in the store, not hanging out with someone off-hours.’

She couldn’t really blame them for that either, as much as she wanted to.

Thea’s last purchase alone had brought in as much revenue as several weeks of normal sales—although, to be fair, the post-Assessment rush and the newly opened Digital Mission terminals always skewed things a bit.

With a heavy sigh, Peria started writing her answer, opting for a very casual one—quietly hoping she hadn’t missed anything important hidden between the lines about why Thea might have chosen such an odd hybrid-communication style in her own message.

[Thea! Happy to hear from you!

[I’d absolutely love to talk shop about the Gram’s, but I’ll be pretty busy at work today and tomorrow! I doubt I can review the whole DM and prepare all the information that might be useful, unless I take both days off…

[I don’t think it’s worth the Credits it’d cost to reimburse Abundant Ammunitions for my time, so maybe we can move it to a different day, later in the week? I’d be free in about four days, starting from around 1600.

[I’ll attach the payment request for Abundant Ammunitions’ reimbursement anyway, in case you think it’s time-sensitive enough.

[Talk to you soon!]

She read through it three times before sending it off, sinking into the chair like the message had drained the last bit of her energy.

‘One-hundred-thirtythree Credits just to talk to me for a day…? That’s way too much. I wonder if I could convince the talking heads to reduce consultation costs for VIPs somehow… Argue that it’s to build better working relationships with them…? Make sure they can always reach the consultants they want, whenever they want? That should boost relations and sales in the long run, right?’ she wondered, mulling it over and jotting down ideas for a potential proposal on the side.

‘So I’ll probably have around three days to review the full DM and get everything ready for Thea… Honestly might be better this way, since I’ll need booth time with the guns myself to get a proper feel for them. I could probably ask Jonas for his opinion too… No clue what his shifts look like right now, though. Last I heard Orange Armaments was slammed, so he might not be free anytime soon… I should just message him, surely he’ll—’

The shrill alarm from her datapad cut through her thoughts, making Peria yelp as she scrambled once again to catch the device before it hit the floor.

“Fuck!” She cursed, breathing hard as she tried to calm her racing heart. “I really need to change that fucking sound, holy shit.”

She opened the message that had caused the alarm and froze at how short it was.

[Awesome! See you tomorrow, Peria!]

“Huh?” she breathed, staring between the message and the attached payment confirmation.

A long second passed before her brain kicked back into gear. 

She blinked rapidly, almost as if that would make the message change.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait—what?! You can’t just pay that much to talk to me!” she blurted, throwing both hands up. “What is wrong with this girl?!”

One-hundred-thirty-three Credits. 

That was almost her entire newly-upgraded, weekly salary. 

For a single day of consultation. About guns.

Then the real horror hit her.

‘Oh. Oh no. I only have… what, less than twenty-four hours to prep…? Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!’

Eyes widening, she shot out of the backroom like she’d been launched, already mentally listing everything she suddenly needed:

Find the manager and tell him she wasn’t coming back for the rest of her shift today—or tomorrow. 

And request priority access to a virtual room. 

And pull three specific guns from inventory. 

And reserve the next-tech workbench. 

And gather notes, run calibrations, cross-reference specs—and message Jonas!

And…

—

—

PoV: Recruit Evelyne Midra Sen

Observing the mostly empty lecture hall, where the System 102 lecture would start soon, Evelyne was practically buzzing with excitement. It had been a hectic thirteen hours since she’d made what was likely the most life-changing discovery she would ever make.

She hadn’t slept a wink—not that it mattered. 

Her upbringing had included lengthy sleep-deprivation training modules, making sure she could function almost perfectly even after several days without rest. 

Still, the sleepless night showed just how turbulent everything had become. 

Her entire plan for her first year in the UHF had been flipped completely on its head.

Her family would probably disapprove—it was unbecoming of a daughter of the Sen to throw away her cover for something as “frivolous” as hope—but she couldn’t let an opportunity like this slip away. 

So she did what any normal person would do: she found an empty storeroom, away from prying eyes and ears, and made a deal with the most devilish of things the UHF had in store.

The UHF’s ship AIs were special, her tutors had always told her. 

They had… ways about them. 

An ulterior sort of programming almost nobody inside the Corps knew about—not even most of the higher brass, barring the Captains of each ship and select individuals. 

It was about their prime directives, which many simply took for granted. But their prime directive wasn’t to serve the officers, nor to serve the Marines aboard them.

No, their prime directive was to facilitate the best possible long-term outcome for the UHF as a whole, no matter what.

It was a secret the Sen family had learned generations ago, and one that they had agreed to protect, in exchange for certain concessions on the UHF’s side. But knowing it gave Evelyne a direct path to negotiate parts of her plan—to make sure she could keep an eye on her MMM at all times.

Not for free, of course.

She clicked her tongue, remembering the long negotiation and haggling session with the ship’s AI, and let her eyes wander over the arriving Marines trickling into the hall.

‘At least Beta Squad before the second Assessment, huh? You’re insulting me, Sovereign,’ she thought with a flicker of annoyance. ‘You could’ve at least demanded Alpha Squad from a Sen, you incongruent bucket of rust.’

She would’ve preferred to stay hidden a while longer, watching from the sidelines until later in the year, but that wasn’t an option anymore. 

In order for the Sovereign to place her into Thea McKay’s lecture cycle—starting today, with the System 102 lecture—Evelyne had to put in some small levels of effort sooner than expected.

She still had time before the second Assessment, but half-measures weren’t in her nature. 

So starting today, she would lay the groundwork for her rise to Beta Squad, as the Sovereign demanded, while also getting closer to her Thea in general.

She’d snuck into the lecture hall early, just to see where Thea would sit so she could pick a nearby seat—out of sight, but close enough to listen to any conversations the girl might have. And unlike every other day since joining the UHF Recruits, she’d actually done her hair properly and applied the makeup expected of a Sen stepping into the public eye.

They had been transformed from her usual “functional and unbothered” look into something far more precise—yet still subtle enough that an untrained eye would barely register the change.

Her dark auburn hair, normally left in a slightly disheveled shoulder-length fall, had been swept back into a sleek, low-tension twist that fed into a short, angled tail resting neatly along the line of her neck. The strands framed her face just loosely enough to soften her features while still allowing a full, unobstructed field of vision. 

It wasn’t an ornate style—not flashy enough to draw attention—but the layering was too exact, too controlled, for anyone with real training to miss. 

It was classic Sen efficiency: Elegant, restrained, and built to avoid giving an opponent anything easy to grab; unless she wanted them to.

Her makeup was, naturally, just as subtle. 

A thin sweep of muted ever-so-slightly velvet shadow around her eyes gave them a quiet sharpness without looking like makeup at all, enhancing the natural depth of her gaze. Her lashes had the faintest lift—nothing dramatic, just enough to widen her eyes and make her look more awake and attentive after a sleepless night. 

A touch of neutral foundation blurred the faint scar beneath her left eye without hiding it, and a swipe of soft rose across her lips added a hint of color that vanished unless you knew to look for it.

On anyone else, it would’ve read as “light, casual makeup.” 

On a Sen, it was a carefully crafted mask—high-class restraint disguised as something ordinary, tailored to slip past most eyes while still meeting the expectations tied to her family name.

Evelyne’s focus snapped to the bright-golden strands of long hair drifting through the entrance, framing a face she had known would be here, but had still absolutely hoped would not appear today: Rachel Veronica Masters.

She allowed herself the briefest flicker of annoyance before smothering the emotion entirely, forcing her mind back into calculation.

‘There are only four Major Legacies in this Drive; I doubt Masters even knows I exist yet. She’ll recognize me now, though… but maybe that’s not such a bad thing? It could grease the wheels for avoiding half the problems this lecture might bring,’ she thought, shifting deeper into the shadowed corner of the hall, keeping just out of the Legacy’s line of sight. 

Better to hold the element of surprise until she chose to use it.

The buzz surrounding Masters—an ever-present hum of attention and admiration—made Evelyne’s skin prickle, even from this distance. 

Masters carried that natural pull common to her Legacy: The frontline stars, the faces of their squads, the born leaders. 

All attention, strength, and charisma.

But Rachel…? Rachel had already stumbled in that. Badly.

Her performance at the Awards Ceremony had been utterly appalling, at least to Evelyne. 

A Major Legacy should have the composure to maintain their image at all times—not lose their temper to the most blatant, low-effort provocation Major Quinn had likely ever tossed out.

‘Truly disappointing,’ Evelyne thought.

Then again, Masters weren’t exactly known for their subtlety. 

Their entire Legacy revolved around shining on the battlefield, not the quieter games—the shadows, the whispers, the unseen nudges that shifted events without leaving fingerprints.

A few minutes later, the second half of the guaranteed problem pair arrived: Lucas Callahan.

‘Masters is going to hate sharing a lecture with him of all people. But I can’t let her start anything before I’ve secured a spot near my Thea…’

There were only so many variables a plan could account for, and letting a loose cannon like Masters take a swing at one of Thea’s closest acquaintances? That was exactly the kind of chaos Evelyne couldn’t afford to let happen.

And then, just behind Lucas, the reason she was here at all stepped into view—Thea, laughing idly at something the giant had said.

Evelyne’s breath stalled in her throat.

Thea’s bright, high-pitched laughter rang across the hall like a melody crafted just for her ears, and Evelyne silently thanked every Attribute Point she had ever invested into Perception—for once, she had absolutely no regrets in following her family’s Attribute layout.

Allowing herself just a second more to bask in the bliss before forcing the emotions down, Evelyne started forward, moving quickly but keeping her footsteps quiet and subtle, her mind already mapping out the next few seconds with unnerving clarity. 

Masters would spot Callahan. Masters would get annoyed—furious, even—and start something. She couldn’t take a swing at him here, obviously, but she would almost certainly bait him, challenge him, try to drag him into some unnecessary spat. 

And her Thea? She would be irritated beyond belief, especially with Masters going after one of her squadmates this early in the morning. She wouldn’t be able to do anything about it either, and that frustration would follow her through the entire lecture.

That meant her Thea would be annoyed, distracted, her attention fixed on Masters, of all people, rather than anything else.

Evelyne felt her blood pressure spike at the thought and forced out two sharp breaths to center herself, just in time to see Masters stand from her seat with a visible sneer aimed straight at Callahan.

She had to stop all of this before the members of Alpha Squad even realized Masters was trying to cause trouble—otherwise, anything Evelyne did would just expose her far too early.

Comparing her distance to theirs with a glance, she realized instantly, ‘I’m not going to make it like this…!’

Without hesitation, she triggered one of her Abilities.

[Phantom Stride]

A darkened streak rippled forward—more heat-shimmer than shadow—before pulling her along its path. In barely an instant she was standing directly behind Masters’ seat, arriving just as the other Legacy pushed herself upright.

Evelyne stepped forward, cutting off Masters’ path with clear intent.

Masters froze mid-step, her confusion snapping into place as she suddenly found herself chest-to-shoulder with someone who absolutely had not been there a second ago. “Who the fuck do you think you—” she started, voice already rising, already pulling breath for a full tirade—

 —but then her expression stuttered, then froze.

Evelyne watched the moment recognition slammed into her like one of Itoku’s punches during their little spar a few days back.

The golden-haired Legacy’s eyes flicked once over Evelyne’s face—over the precise, subtle velvet eyeshadow, the short, perfectly arranged auburn strands and hair, the faint scar beneath the eye—and everything seemed to click into place all at once.

Masters recoiled hard, stumbling back a half-step as if Evelyne had physically struck her. 

The shock on her face was almost comical—raw confusion wrapped in a sudden spike of caution that she clearly couldn’t hide fast enough.

“Sit down,” Evelyne said quietly, tone flat, almost gentle—but with an edge that cut straight through the air. “Don’t make trouble. Not until after the lecture.”

Masters’ jaw tightened hard enough for Evelyne to see the muscle jump. Defiance first—natural, feral and instinctive—her words grating on every part of her Legacy-born pride… but it faltered as the rest of her brain finally caught up. 

Wariness crept in slowly, replacing the earlier fire. 

She swallowed, eyes narrowing.

“Why?” Masters hissed under her breath. “Why do you even care about some loser Defensive Heavy who stole my rightful spot?”

Evelyne didn’t bother acknowledging the question. 

Her voice didn’t lift or drop; it stayed perfectly even, almost bored.

“I would really appreciate it if you did me this minor favor.”

That was all she said. And it was enough.

Masters froze again—this time because she understood. 

A favor—even if minor. From a Sen. Offered freely. 

For something this simple; this small.

Her eyes darted as she calculated the value, weighing whatever pride she had against a gift no sane Legacy would ever turn down.

With a sharp huff, she gave a short nod and sank back down into her seat, posture stiff but compliant.

Evelyne didn’t wait. 

She stepped away before the other Legacy could even consider addressing her again, weaving through the rows and climbing the hall’s stairs with silent, rapid steps. And just in time too, as Callahan and her Thea arrived at the bottom of the stairs—smiling, chatting, doing a magnificent job of pretending Masters didn’t exist at all.

They climbed up the rows and settled three rows behind Masters. 

Evelyne immediately drifted down toward them, timing her steps so she wouldn’t draw a hint of attention. When she finally sat—just one row back and a little to the side of Thea—she let out a quiet, controlled breath of relief.

A flicker of annoyance pulsed through her; offering a minor favor just to shut Masters down fast enough to stay hidden grated on her. 

It was wasteful. Sloppy, even. 

Not how she was taught to operate.

But then Thea spoke—her voice soft and melodic, completely unaware of the chaos Evelyne had just smothered in the crib—and all irritation evaporated as if it had never existed in the first place.

She could hear her Thea’s voice perfectly, and the topic was nowhere near the other Legacy’s name.

Everything was exactly how it needed to be…

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[TAS] Volume 2 - Chapter 58 - Signs

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Volume 2 - Chapter 53 - Fire & Smoke has just released on RR with no changes.

For the Wolf Lords, this chapter is unchanged.

And also: Please do not read the chapters here on Patreon, but go for the googledoc, .pdf or .epub instead. Patreon butchers all forms of formatting and you're missing out on easier and more enjoyable reading experiences.

------

New chapter hypeeee

------

I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is the link to the chapter:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/12g1V39ynSzn-AonOwZnSUZ227q_TlNKD0OkIJXUdWYk/edit?usp=sharing

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Volume 2 - Chapter 58 - Signs

“... Repeat that for me. Just one more time.”

A beat. Then a sigh.

“I said: It has an Ability inside it. The System recognizes it; even has an Interface and a heads-up description. If you use it, you get the Ability—then the shard dissolves, or so it says.”

Silence stretches.

“...Fuck.”

Another pause. Heavier this time.

“I don’t think we have any precedent for that. Where did you even fucking get this?”

Wild gesticulation towards the shard in question.

“A System Mission near Liurnia Septis. Dominion and Accord both on site. Big Emperor-damned mess. Pretty sure I’m the only one who made it out with one. Came straight here, Sir.”

More silence.

“I don’t… I genuinely don’t know what to do with this. That shouldn’t exist. But it’s right here. I can see it. I can scan it. I just—this is above my weight class. Like several orders above, really.”

Typing, fast and frustrated, fills the room for several minutes.

“Nope. Nothing. No precedent, no protocol, no chain-of-command routing for ‘oh hey we found Galactic War-breaking System artifacts today’.”

“So… what now, Sir? Do I just—use it? And we forget it existed?”

“If you use it, you’ll get Zero’d. Instantly. Do not even think about triggering it. I do not have the kind of clout to delete the logs of your existence in my lab, nor the recordings of what is being said right here, right now. They will find out.”

The Legate exhales, shaky.

“R… Right. Okay. So… what do we do, then?”

“I flag the ship AI and hope it knows who to wake up. That’s all we’ve got. The AI should have direct lines to people we don’t even get to know exist.”

“You’re telling me we’re just handing this off to the ship?”

“Yes, Legate. Because I don’t want to be the idiot who tries to report this manually and ends up on a damn dissection table. This is… potential Galactic War-altering—nay, winning—information. The kind of thing that’s going to wake up the entire O-13 Council and not let them rest for several weeks, if not months. If the wrong branch thinks this is too important to leak, we’re both dead by tomorrow.”

A beat of stunned quiet.

“S...Sir?!”

Another sigh. Longer. Resigned.

“If this gets classified as too dangerous or too valuable to leak, we disappear. That’s it. Simple as that. We suffer an accident; maybe a Void-leak on the ship. Maybe get sent to a death-world. Who knows. Point is, there’s no exceptions for that. I don’t think that’ll happen, since it’s System-origin and not our meddling—but get your personal affairs sorted anyway. I’ll give you twenty-four hours before I push the alert.”

“T—Thank you, Sir. I’ll… I’ll leave it with you then. I… I’ll… go, then?”

“Yes. Do that. And thank you for reporting it. If things go well, your career is about to become very interesting. If not… well. Let’s hope we don’t both get called up by the ship AI in the next coming days. If you receive a summon, ask if there’s any debriefing officers going to be present. If not; send your last words to whoever you trust most.”

The Legate freezes momentarily, then rushes out. The door hisses closed.

The research officer stands alone for a long, heavy moment.

“...The System just had to throw a curveball again, didn’t it,” he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Damn Allbright’s waking up. And we’re all going to bleed for it, even more than usual...”

—

[UHF Excerpt: Initial Ability Shard Investigation, Unknown Researcher, PFC935]

======

======

The Digital Mission Deck phased in around Thea, the world snapping into place like someone had just flicked a switch. 

Dozens of Recruits moved through the space—some clustered around datascreens setting up their own DMs, others laughing and chatting in small groups, and a few standing still, staring up at the massive datascreens showing live feeds and recordings from ongoing missions.

For a moment, she just stood there, blinking. 

She hadn’t walked here—or at least, she didn’t remember walking here. 

The Sovereign hadn’t asked her to exit through a door, as she usually did, or follow any sort of alternative transition protocol. The AIs weren’t supposed to be able to move people directly… or at least, that’s what the Sovereign itself had claimed once.

Then, as her mind caught up with the sudden shift, realization dawned: She hadn’t moved at all. She was standing in front of the exact same datascreen she’d used to accept the mission in the first place, as if she’d never left the same exact spot from the very moment she had confirmed her participation.

‘Wait… I wasn’t just standing here the whole time, right?’ she thought, an uneasy twist running through her chest.

Her question answered itself when another Recruit nearby blinked out of existence right after confirming their DM, and a few seconds later, a different one appeared in that exact same spot.

‘Ah. So, phasing, not movement. That… makes more sense, I guess?’

The Sovereign must’ve been able to phase Recruits in and out of the same physical space without overlap, instead of transferring them directly. Probably some spatial compression trick—or whatever absurdly advanced tech made all this possible in the first place.

‘I should ask Kara about it later,’ she mused. ‘Though, unless it’s biological or medicine-related, she probably won’t have a clue either.’

Shaking her head to clear the thought, Thea stepped away from the datascreen to make room for the next wave of Recruits. She moved toward a quieter section of the deck but kept close enough to watch the big screens flicker through different battlefields—each one its own little war.

There was still one thing left to do before meeting up with Kara.

Calling up the System Interface again, she let the remaining, albeit very small backlog of notifications roll through, that she had curtailed from earlier, to get out of the debrief as quickly as possible.

[System]: Psychic Reversal has reached Level 1.
[System]: Quick Draw has reached Level 1.
[System]: Focus Retention has reached Level 1.
[System]: Focus Capacitor has reached Level 1.

‘Huh. Only one level each… Guess even a brutal DM like that doesn’t give much EXP unless you’re really leaning on those Abilities,’ she thought, cupping her chin. ‘Then again, I barely even touched my Allbright-related stuff this time, so yeah… I guess that tracks.’

With a small nod to herself, she swiped open her Abilities List next.

[---------------- Abilities: 5 (5) | 8 (8) ----------------]

[Active (Silver) - Sensory Overdrive | α - Level 9]

[Active (Silver) - Sky Step | β - Level 7]

[Active (Copper) - Improved Sprint | α - Level 7]

[Active (Iron) - Penetrative Shot | γ - Level 8]

[Active (Gold) - Psychic Reversal - Level 1]

[Passive (Silver) - Armour of Resolve - Level 7]

[Passive (Silver) - Meditation Focus - Level 7]

[Passive (Silver) - Silver Respiration - Level 6]

[Passive (Iron) - Agile Stealth - Level 7]

[Passive (Gold) - Detect Weak Spots - Level 7]

[Passive (Silver) – Quick Draw – Level 1]

[Passive (Silver) – Focus Retention – Level 1]

[Passive (Iron) – Focus Capacitor – Level 1]

‘Hmm, [Sensory Overdrive] is getting close to Level 10… That’s gonna be exciting. A Major Alteration, huh? I wonder what’s actually gonna be available for that. No clue what kind of options there’ll be, but if it’s called “Major” Alteration, it’s probably a lot more impactful than the ones I’ve seen so far. Hopefully something that cuts down the Focus cost—that’d help a ton.’

Satisfied that she had a good handle on her current Abilities and their progress, Thea gave a small nod to herself and closed out of the System Interface, her attention shifting back to the bustle of the Mission Deck around her.

Making her way through the crowd of Recruits was surprisingly easier than expected. 

Most people seemed to notice her immediately—and then made sure to give her plenty of space, stepping aside like she was some kind of live-wire that needed to be avoided at all cost.

“Haaa…” she sighed, the sound halfway between amusement and exhaustion. 

Part of her was honestly glad she didn’t have to deal with small talk or elbow her way through the crowd, but another part—the one that preferred not being the center of attention when she didn’t explicitly choose to be—was already growing tired of it. 

This kind of reaction was seemingly starting to become normal, and she wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about that quite yet.

As she made her way toward the lounge—and definitely not to distract herself from the hushed whispers radiating out from her position like a virus—she pulled out her datapad and typed up a quick message to Karania, letting her know she was done with the DM and on her way, just like she’d promised before they had parted into their respective missions.

Just as she slipped her datapad back into her pocket, Thea had to stop short—nearly walking straight into another Marine.

“Ah, woops, my bad,” she said quickly, shifting her weight to the side in an attempt to swerve around them. She hadn’t really been watching where she was going; up until now, everyone had just moved out of her way on their own.

But before she could step past, the Marine spoke up.

“Uh… Uhm… Actually, could I bother you for a second, please?”

Caught off guard, Thea froze mid-step and finally gave the person in front of her a proper look.

Thea blinked, taking in the person who’d stopped her—a young woman, roughly her own age, maybe two or three years older at most. 

Her dark auburn hair was cut short, just brushing her shoulders, slightly disheveled but clearly well kept. It wasn’t messy so much as unstyled—like she’d run her hands through it a few times and called it a day. 

A faint scar cut across her fair skin, just beneath her left eye—the only other detail that stood out to Thea’s high levels of Perception right away. 

It was more than just a little unusual to see a scar on a Recruit. 

Most people came out of Integration spotless; only scars they personally deemed essential to who they were got carried over into their initial Blueprint. Thea remembered Karania explaining that to her during their stay in the medical wing after the Assessment, after asking about some of Isabella’s that she had seen during their shared training sessions.

Something else about the girl tugged at her memory, however, though Thea couldn’t immediately place why. 

That strange familiarity grew stronger the longer she looked—until her eyes met the forest-green ones of the girl.

And then it clicked.

The girl didn’t flinch. Not even a miniscule twitch.

Thea’s breath caught for a second as the realization hit her. 

She remembered her now—the same Recruit who’d met her gaze earlier, just a few hours back, when Kara had been using her to clear a path through the crowd in front of the Digital Mission terminals. 

The same one who’d locked eyes with her for a brief moment before being swallowed by the sea of bodies that had surrounded the area.

It wasn’t something she would forget easily. 

People simply didn’t hold eye contact with Cyans—instinctively or otherwise. Most looked away within a heartbeat, like it was built into their wiring to avoid that telltale cyan glow.

Outside of Karania, who seemed downright fascinated by Thea’s eyes whenever they spoke, there hadn’t been anyone else who reacted like that in the Recruit-corps so far. 

And even the ones that decided to make an effort in meeting her eyes, like Corvus often did, instinctively flinched or twitched at the contact regardless.

But this girl hadn’t. 

Not then, and not now.

“I’m kind of in a rush to meet up with a friend, but… sure, I guess,” Thea said, her tone noncommittal. She wasn’t exactly sure where this was heading, but the girl looked like she might fold in on herself if Thea said no.

“I—I promise it won’t take long!” the girl blurted, nodding quickly but clearly uneasy. “I just wanted to ask if… um, if it would be okay to ask you for something?”

Thea raised an eyebrow, silently urging her to continue. 

She’d never really understood that whole “asking for permission to ask a question” thing—if you wanted something, just ask. A no was still going to be a no, no matter whether you got permission to ask beforehand or not.

“C-could you maybe sign this?” the girl stammered, fumbling with the strap of her bag before pulling out a rolled-up poster and offering it along with a marker pen.

“Ah… What?” Thea blinked, completely thrown off by the request. It felt like she’d just been blindsided by something out of a completely different universe.

She took the poster slowly, still trying to process what was happening, and began to unroll it—only to freeze the moment she saw what was printed on it.

Thea stared down at the unfurled poster, her mind tripping over itself. Freya.

Her favorite character from Ashes of Centuries—frozen mid-roar, one boot planted on the mangled remains of a Fel’Keza, battle-axe raised high, streaked in blood and triumph. The art was raw, loud, and beautifully brutal, capturing that perfect blend of savagery and victory that had always drawn Thea to Freya in the first place.

But that wasn’t what made her stomach twist; not exactly.

She knew this poster. Exactly this poster.

Her eyes narrowed as she looked up at the girl, suspicion cutting through her confusion like a knife. 

This wasn’t just some random piece of merch anyone could buy on a whim. 

This was the special edition release celebrating PFC937’s galactic championship series—the official commemorative poster of the winners’ match.

Her match.

The one she’d played. The one she’d won.

Thea remembered that tournament vividly—the chaos, the exhaustion, the fact that even the Old Man himself had shown up to the Golden Age Arcade to watch the finale…

There’d only been ten thousand of those posters ever printed, shipped out as collector’s items across half the galaxy. 

She still had hers, tucked safely in a display case back at the Old Man’s house on Lumiosia, one of the few things she’d ever managed to get sent to the backwater planet.

And now this random girl was standing in front of her, clutching the same poster—that poster—and asking her to sign it.

Her mind reeled. 

Did this girl know who she was? If so, how? And what were the odds she’d not only somehow tracked her down before Integration, but somehow also ended up on the same recruitment ship, of all places?