As we finally reach the end of the corridor, we take the first left at the T-branch. Ahead, voices can be heard—grumbling voices and one rather annoyingly high-pitched one. The group turns and stares at me. The kid who we’ve been trying to get an Advanced Class for stands in the middle.
“Redeemer.” His father, the Cafire Representative, is the one who speaks, his voice low. “Are you sure this will work?”
The Cafire’s group are similar in looks, creatures that look like the devils of Earth’s Christian mythology. Red skin, black horns, a long, pointed tail. The full works. Unlike the other one we once met, they don’t speak in iambic pentameter.
“Of course.” I walk forward while Ali grows in size, tugging Hary along behind.
“You said that the last time,” Yorera, the father, says.
“That’s right. You keep saying you’ll get it, but you keep failing,” Xirera, the kid, says. “And we can’t fight in here. Not without drawing attention.”
“You don’t need to.” I reach sideways, extracting a set of manacles from my inventory. These came from the Weaver, delivered to Mikito while I was trapped. Runic engravings cover the manacles, and even to my Mana sense, which I’ve tuned down, they glow in the shielded passageway. “Just put these on us.”
“John…” Harry raises his voice, eyes widening. Fear erupts from his voice, panic threatening to take him.
“You best start with him,” I say, gesturing to Harry.
“No!” Harry struggles, trying to pull away from Ali.
Before Harry can make off, Agr’us casts a spell, one that he’s been prepping for a bit. Harry ceases struggling, entering a dazed status.
“Trouble with your friends?” Yorera says.
“Nothing you have to worry about,” I say coldly. “Just get it done. Him first, then the rest of us.”
The kid with his scrawny appearance and flushed red skin takes the manacles off my hands and starts with Harry as requested. By the time Harry is able to pay attention, he’s manacled and his Mana is suppressed. Unlike the previous time though, he has a full Mana bar. He just isn’t able to activate any Skills.
“I can’t do this, John. Please don’t make me do this,” Harry says, his voice pleading now.
“It’s okay.” Mikito bumps him with her shoulder, offering him a half-smile. She has her hands out, waiting to be cuffed too. “We got this.”
“No, you don’t get it. We can’t, we don’t have any Skills. They’ll hurt us. Hurt me…” Harry’s beginning to hyperventilate.
I shoot a glance at Agr’us. He hits Harry with another spell, this one meant to calm his emotions rather than put him in a dazed Status. Harry stabilizes a bit, and while he’s stabilizing, Agr’us offers him a ring.
“What?” Harry says.
“Ring of Calm Emotions,” I say. “It’ll help. It only suppresses what you’re feeling, but it’ll help you get through this.”
It’s not the best option. In fact, there’s quite a bit of literature that shows things like that ring end up doing more damage in the long run than they help in the short term. But in specific circumstances, their use has been recommended. And in our case, we need it.
Manacles slide over wrists, one after the other. Each time, the kid hesitates as he waits for a notification, then he moves on, not getting one. By the time he gets to me, he’s looking less than enthused. When the heavy clunk of metal closing on my wrists echoes through the chambers, I reach into the System.
And find the notification that blossoms, telling me of my captured nature. I follow the Mana strand back, finding the node it arrived from, then down the strands that reach the kid. The manacles might block others, might stop most my other Skills, but System Edit isn’t blocked. We tested it, verified it before committing to this.
The child’s lips are turning down into a frown, disappointment crossing his flushed face, those glowing black and red eyes. He’s turning to complain to his father.
In the stretched moment that contains us both and the System Mana flooding into me, connecting us, I find the information that marks his actions, the collaring, and the multiple strands of information that verify his actions against Title acquisitions. I find the Title requirements, the little tick and check mark it searches for for the one we’re looking to get.
In that frozen moment, I make a few quick edits to his Status and the Title data. The System bucks as I manipulate it, hating what I do. It floods me back with error notifications, tickets and protests. In turn, I make adjustments further down the line, altering the kid’s fate a little to appease the System.
And then, I’m done.
I take a few extra seconds to make sure the alteration to the Title is locked to the kid, that it doesn’t cascade through the System, before pulling back. As time resumes its normal flow, the kid freezes. His eyes widen with surprise.
“Redeemer. Your promises are—” Yorera’s already gesturing for his guards to grab us, his tail lashing in anger.
Xirera cuts him off with a whoop. “I got it! I got it!”
“You did?” Yorera’s jaw drops, but he doesn’t stop the guards from gripping us as he pulls his son around. “Show me!”
The kid does, adjusting his notifications so his father can see it. None of us get to see it of course, but I don’t need to. I amended it myself, so I know what it says.
Title: Killer of Achilles
You’ve done what many would consider impossible. You’ve fought and beaten a Heroic while in your Basic Class. Such an act of heroism, fortitude, and foolhardiness will forever be marked upon your Status.
Effect 1: Access to certain Rare Classes. Increase in Reputation among certain factions. Decrease in Reputation among others.
Effect 2: +25% damage against those one Rank higher than you. +15% damage to those two Ranks higher than you. +10% damage to those three Ranks higher than you. +5 damage to those four Ranks higher than you.
Effect 3: +20% damage resistance
“The System’s beneficence. This is better than we expected,” Yorera says, reading the notification in detail. “You’ll definitely get a good Class now.”
Xirera can only bob his body in acknowledgement, vibrating with excitement. I keep silent, knowing his future, knowing the kind of Classes he’ll get. The ones I trimmed out so that I could make this work. A small part of me feels guilty, but I push it away knowing that he’s still bought one heck of an advantage. Just not the kind he thinks.
“Well, I guess I should make sure to carry out my side,” Yorera says, grinning and clapping me on the shoulder. And if there’s a little malice, a little greed in his eyes, well, it’s to be expected.
After all, he’s an Ambassador too.
“Come. We do not want to miss your vote.”
With those words and a few gestures, Yorera has his guards drag us to the Council building. Behind us, we leave Xirera, who is still vibrating with excitement and rereading his new Title, almost glowing with happiness.
***
We’re frog-marched through the corridors, our presence gaining more than a few raised eyebrows. There are questions asked, but we’ve put away our permits, passing by under Yorera’s security clearance now. He doesn’t stop, answering shouted questions with pleasant but useless nonsensical answers that give away nothing.
At our first major security checkpoint, we’re pulled aside and scanned for weaponry. The few that we carry outside of our inventory have already been taken by Yorera’s guards, held in their own inventory as a matter of course. The Council security check’s our faces and Statuses, pursing their lips as they find nothing in their database.
Which is by design. The enchantments that change our looks are boosted by the Lady to ensure we’re hidden. Of course, the lack of data engenders another round of questioning, but we stay silent while Yorera deflects the questions under the guise of Diplomatic Immunity.