Energy.
Force.
Affinity.
Lightning bursts from my raised hand, channeled through it. Electrons are excited, released from their bonds, resistances lowered. The world changes and brightens as my attack strikes Sefan and arcs through his body, grounding in the floor, in the mezzanine roof, in Wex.
I tap into my Elemental Affinity, the connection strong and powerful and not at all gifted by the System. There is no block on it, for it’s not something offered to me by the System but via my connection to Ali at first, then by time and training.
Sefan staggers back, surprised. As is Wex. The attack doesn’t kill. It barely even damages. But it gives me an opening, and with that and with the aid of the System, I push against the block they’ve set up. The door appears, open, against the wall I lean on. Behind me.
I fall through it, still unleashing uncontrolled energy. When Sefan and Wex move to follow, I take away their grip, the friction between them and the floor. It bothers them for a second as they fail to find purchase on the floor, the ceiling. They slip, fall, and reassert their own control of reality through the System.
Then I’m through, the door slamming shut as I let their block reassert itself.
I tumble to the ground in the same alleyway, bleeding, bruised, broken. Blood pools around my torso, ropes of torn intestine falling out, shredded clothing by my side. I have multiple broken bones, a shattered collarbone.
I’m hurt and in pain. But I’m alive.
I stagger to my feet, feeling my Skills reassert themselves. As Mikito rushes to aid me, I grin predatorily at the empty spot.
“Inevitable, my ass.”
***
My moment of arrogant challenge dissipates as fast as the blood escaping from wounds. I pull myself together, using healing potions to aid the System that struggles to heal me. I drop a bunch of mines, shield barriers, and other friendly greetings in front of the door as I stagger toward Mikito. She’s stopped, a deep frown on her face as she deals with the Administrative injunction to enter the alleyway.
“Sloppy code…” I mutter, watching as Mikito grows more and more frustrated. She struggles forward, pushing against the enchantment even through the lack of notifications. “Don’t. I’m coming.”
She jerks a nod, relief evident on her face. Rather than worry about the state I’m in, she conjures a beam rifle and points it behind me in support while I stumble to her. Injuries that should cripple me seem to be healing faster than normal. I could poke at it but getting away is more important.
Yet, nothing happens. Not when I get to Mikito. Not when we retreat, while I plaster myself with healing spells and wrap a cloak around my torn clothing. Not even when we get on a nearby private aircar to be chauffeured away.
Long, tense minutes pass as we evade pursuit. We change cars and transportation methods, even going so far as to pay for a short-range teleport out of the city.
Once we’re away from civilization—or the closest Irvina equivalent—we conduct short-range hops. I push past the Dimension Locks on the planet, overriding it with my System Edit Skill.
We run and keep running until we’re in the middle of an ocean, floating in the middle of the air. Alone, with the ability to see potential problems coming from every angle. Paranoia wanes, and I find my hands trembling uncontrollably while the sour taste of acid floats in the back of my mouth.
“What happened?” Mikito says, eyeing me with caution.
“Trap.” When she grunts, I continue. “A pair of Administrators were within.” I shudder, remembering their visages, the power they wielded. “They had to be high Heroics. Maybe Legendarys.”
“How are you alive?” Mikito asks.
I don’t answer the insulting question, not immediately. I call forth Ali, who pops into being, arms crossed. He spins around, taking in the world, then relaxes. Only to tense again when he sees my face. I’m clean now, all the blood gone, but the shredded remnants of my clothing are still on me.
“What the hell happened?” Ali says.
“Trap,” Mikito replies.
“Duh! But why’s boy-o looking like he’s been told he’s got a kid? And what are all these notifi—” Ali shuts up as his eyes glaze over, data streaming before him. He reads and ignores us, catching up in a more direct manner.
“They didn’t have access to Skills. None of us did.” I touch my side where I can still feel the sensations of my body being torn apart. “And they weren’t taking it seriously. Didn’t think I could do anything.”
Mikito purses her lips. “Learn anything useful?”
“A lot. But most importantly…” I draw a deep breath and let it out. “They’ve made up their minds. I don’t think they’re going to hold off hunting for us. Not anymore.”
Mikito’s eyes widen and I nod. She shivers, but I smile. A hand is raised and a book recalled. I weigh it in my hands, feeling the power within as I let the book fall open. A Skill, harnessed within, waits to be unleashed. And I let it.
The book rushes into my mind, seeking information, knowledge. I offer it what I can, everything I just learned about Skills, Administrators and Administrative Centers. How the System works, how its encoded.
With a snap, the book closes. I hold it for a second more, Mikito side-eying me and the leather-bound, parchment-based weapon of mass destruction and knowledge. Then I open my hand, letting the book free. Light swallows the book as it shrinks, twisting in on itself before it disappears.
Returned.
“John?” Mikito asks quietly, and I smile grimly.
“Time to pull out all the guns.” I draw a deep breath. “Tell Katherine, Rob. They’re not going to stop pushing Earth, no matter what we do. Best to be ready.”
She nods jerkily, and the wind picks up over the open ocean, splashing us with water. As dark storm clouds roll in, we get to work.
If chaos, if death and destruction are all they’re searching for, then we’ll give it to them. In spades.
***
The Questors get moving. Corrupt Questors or orthodox, this information gets disseminated. Not the actual information about my Class—not yet. But that there might be more to the System, to the Quest? Definitely. The new information, hints and real data are thrown into void space to chum the waters.
Long dormant conversations about the kind of world we live in, the nature of the System and our reality rise once more. News articles appear, reporters and investigative journalists having long-held questions answered. Reports about the movements of the Council, the things they’ve done in the past—and are doing now—are published all across the galaxy.
Secrets are revealed. From the residence of Legendarys who value their privacy to share holdings in private companies, forcing runs on shares and the sudden questioning of certain contracts. Other companies and guilds, who have long alluded to powerful backers, are revealed as frauds, their share prices dropping. Guilds are destroyed, headquarters gutted.
Civil order becomes discivil. Races whose worlds were stolen, their lands taken, question the validity of the actions taken against them, their place in society. The line between what the System—an uncaring, unfeeling, remote program—and the Galactic Council—supposedly a body to serve all sapients—is questioned once more.
Libraries of hidden knowledge, of Classes and Titles that the Questors have accumulated suddenly appear in public forums. Secret Skills, used to control and hamper competitors, other individuals, other groups, become known.
Assassins and bounty hunters, searching for their targets, for weaknesses to exploit, find that once closely held information is now freely available. Vengeance seekers looking for those to blame, looking for a path forward find their ways illuminated.
The Questors make their move, and the galaxy is thrown into chaos. Because while the Questors might not be able to wield a sword, the weapon they hold—the trove of knowledge they have access to—is as dangerous, if not more, to the society they live within. They but lacked the will to use it. Now, they act. A truth dangled before them, a hint whispering through the halls.