An internal document of the Royal Family of Sol Invictus

There are many aspects from which we draw our strength. First and foremost is the power of the Emperor. He watches us and protects us from threats unseen. However, we are often put in situations where the Emperor cannot protect us. It is at these times that we must rely upon The Market. It is your birthright and will become your source of strength. A word of caution: only use it when the price is something you can accept.

“Obviously it should be Skill! Our citizens spent the past month as generalists but now they are becoming specialists. The guards are a prime example of this. Promoting that growth and specialization is the best option!”

“Y-y-you have g-good points b-but y-you’re fo-forgetting b-basic needs. S-specializing t-takes t-time and fo-food. We n-need all the f-farmers and gr-growers we currently have and a-asking them t-to commit a l-life of f-farming is a h-h-hard sell. P-people w-will want t-to ch-choose their o-own paths and it w-would be ch-chaotic if w-we forced t-them.”

“Which is why I’ve been saying Class this whole time! Skills are fine but Classes are more versatile. That would give us six months to get 2100 people to Level 25 and there’s no way a few more people won’t independently discover their own Class in that amount of time.”

I sit amongst the Council, content with letting them debate it out amongst themselves before I get involved. My mother sits silently like myself and listens to the arguments put up by the other three members.

My father stands up and slams his hands down on the table. “It’s got to be Skills! The Way Points the citizens receive from the process will give them the means to pursue paths we don’t even know exist right now! Every increase is also an immediate impact that will help our people survive the monster attacks!”

Elias just shakes his head in response. “Nah, you’re wrong. The only Ways they’ll get from training Skills will be related to the same Skills that they are training. It just means we’ll end up with people only good at a few things. The Classes people have gotten are way more varied, plus they get three options.”

“I-it is w-worth a m-mention that th-the n-n-notification said t-that our a-average skill l-level was four. B-based on my cal-calulations, I-I b-believe t-that it is a-almost im-impossible to r-raise average S-Skill level to thirty in s-six months. Even Cael’s a-a-average is only th-thirty two p-point eight.” Julian interjects.

My father’s argument is sound but the underlying motivation is clear; he wants the guards to become the military force of our new city and this choice would give him the permission to go ahead with that plan. I’m not sure I agree with that premise, however.

Elias, on the other hand, has a convincing argument for picking Classes. The option, if implemented correctly, would be far easier to achieve than Skills but also carries with it a greater risk. The only way to gain the Levels needed to get a Class, at least that I know of, is through direct combat and that puts the lives of the citizens on the line.

The concept of a portion of the city with Classes also creates an interesting dilemma. Growth before Level 25 is incredibly slow, as Genesis only grants one Attribute Point per Level. Classes increase the per Level bonuses, which means that each Level over 25 is potentially as significant six or seven before it. If we’re able to get 10% of the city over that threshold, we will effectively be creating a section of society that is far more powerful than the majority.

I decide to break my silence to challenge Elias. “And how will we handle the problem that we’re effectively creating a caste system?”

He looks over at me, mildly surprised by my interruption, but doesn’t seem deterred. “Calling it a caste system is a bit of a stretch, Cael. Whether you like it or not, the old world was broken into two groups; those who had money and those who didn’t. All we’ll be doing is changing a word. Money is no longer power, Classes and Skills are.”

He makes a convincing argument but I’m not completely satisfied yet. “If that’s the case, why not shift the paradigm instead of tweaking the old model? Why don’t we pick technology and focus on improving the capabilities of everyone in the city?”

Elias scoffs. “Don’t be naïve. Wars aren’t going to be fought with large armies anymore; they’re going to be fought by singularly powerful individuals. Hell, you’re a perfect example of this. All the guards in Everwall wouldn’t have stood a chance against those three invaders and yet you were able to take them down by yourself. We live in a world of champions, not armies.”

“H-h-he makes a g-good po-point, C-Cael. T-technology m-might h-help in the sh-short run b-but getting a head s-start on C-Classes will be m-more b-beneficial in the l-long term.” Julian responds, catching me off guard. I was almost positive he would have pushed for technology, which reminds me of Octavian’s advice. I shouldn’t underestimate people and if the most unbiased person I know is recommending an option then I’d do well to consider his advice.

“Mom? Your thoughts?”

She stares off into the distance as she rises out of her chair, walking behind it and resting her hands on top. “It’s a hard choice. Alejandro all but guarantees our success with the Technology option but Elias and Julian make good points.”

“Skills would best benefit the guards and would allow us to discover Ways that we don’t know exist!” My father interjects, frustrated from our dismissal of his idea.

“Darling, with Classes come Skills. Julian and Elias are right. It may be more difficult, and we’ll have to divert a significant amount of resources to see it happen, but nonetheless I cast my vote for Classes. Julian, Elias, I assume you vote this way as well?”

“Yup.”

“Y-yes, m-ma’am.”

Turning to my father, she raises her palms as if to say ‘that’s the way it is’. Obviously frustrated, he stands up and stomps into the hallway, quickly followed by the sound of the front door closing. The tension is palpable, making all of us, except for my mother who maintains her unflappable persona, uncomfortable. I know he’ll get over it though.

She then turns to me and looks at me with a strange seriousness in her eyes. I can’t pick up on what she’s thinking but it becomes obvious as soon as she opens her mouth. “So what will you pick, Cael?”

She’s afraid that I’ll ignore the Council’s decision and barrel ahead without their advice. After all, I am the one who will actually select our Trial. It … it hurts slightly to know that she is worried about losing control but I don’t fault her for the suspicion. The power disparity between myself and everyone else in this city is enormous. In fact, that’s the whole reason I supported the idea of the City Council. The only way to keep myself rooted is to form a council who represent the rest of population that doesn’t have my level of power or strength.

“You all convinced me. I think Classes are the best option. But I want us to have a realistic plan laid out before I select it.”

The three of them nod. My mom takes charge and says, “Let’s get started then.”

The rough sands of the training field grate against his bare feet but he embraces the feeling, knowing that the rough texture helps keep him in the moment. The three most powerful guards are assembled in front of him, all of them raising their shields and swords in a coordinated movement.

It’s obvious that they’ve spent the last month training as a unit and their hard work is evident in the way they hold themselves. Their knees are bent, allowing for instant movement in any direction, and they hold their shields with a tempered looseness. The tips of their swords rest on top of their long square shields, ready to stab forward at a moments notice.

All lined up together, shields interlocked, they mimic the style of the Roman legion. The little practice Hakim had experienced while training with the guards had given him a glimpse. It is a brutal style focused on incapacitating opponents and ending their lives quickly.

Of course, that style was also developed in the old world, before the arrival of Genesis. And that old world had never seen anything like Hakim.

“If you’re done getting ready, I’m waiting for a fight”, he jests, trying to provoke them.

The three take a careful step forward, their interlocking shields moving forward in perfect sync. Swords stand at the ready, their sharp points facing directly at him.

Smiling at the power he’s about to show off, he begins.

A simple thought sends the Mana flooding through his body towards the Dexterity runes on his feet. In the next instant, light begins to erupt off of his bare feet as he lunges forward, launching dust and sand into the air. Each step further accelerating him until he begins to move at a speed that they can barely perceive.

Lunging, rolling, and vaulting in front of the guards, he antagonizes them by lightly punching their shields and then easily dodging their retaliatory strikes. His body contorts into almost impossible shapes as he bends around the three simultaneous strikes. As the guards try to pull their swords back for another strike, he forces another stream of Mana towards his shoulder Strength rune.

The veins on his arms bulge under the stress of the temporary Strength but the discomfort is nothing compared to the feeling of power that rushes through Hakim every time he uses it. For someone who had obsessed about becoming strong for so long, this is basically a drug.

Attributes enhanced by the two runes, he pushes off with his foot, twists his hips, and rotates his shoulders to land a heavy punch directly onto the center of the middle shield.

The impact sends the guard flying through the air, launched back with a speed that he could not resist. He lands on the ground about fifteen feet away, crumpling into a heap of armor and loose limbs. The other two guards lose their focus for a second as they stare at their downed comrade and that slight distraction allows Hakim to land another punch on the left most guard’s shield, sending him tumbling backwards in a similar manner to his teammate.

Hakim then spins around on one foot and prepares himself to finish the fight off. Instead, he’s greeted with the sight of the final guard throwing down his weapons, obviously not wanting to be taken down like his comrades.

The whole training yard erupts into claps and whistles. Arrayed around the training grounds are the dozens and dozens of guards who were watching this match.

Hakim smiles in delight as he takes in the praise. This is the moment that he’d been waiting for his entire life. The moment when his strength was recognized by those who had once been stronger than him.

The moment is spoiled, however, by all the different imagined scenarios he had built around this exact moment. Almost every time that he had imagined finally coming into some sort of power, he had proceeded to lose himself in a power fantasy where he lorded his newfound strength over those who had once lorded it over him.

But as he now looks back at his memories, he realizes now that the guards had never lorded their power over him, even if he had initially perceived things that way. In fact, they had gone out of their way to offer him advice and guidance, trying to help him improve so that he could contribute to the defense effort.

The concept of tainting this moment by holding his power over the heads of others now fills him with unease and guilt. Why should he lord his power over the guards who had offered him their help? All of the people in Everwall, both strong and weak, were in this together.

Shaking his head free of his old thoughts, he smiles and walks over to the two guards still lying on the ground. A small stream of Mana into the Strength rune gives him enough heft to help the guards up by himself.

What follows is something Hakim never thought he would do. He walks into the crowds of the gathered guards and begins to laugh and joke around with them, offering fighting tips while making jokes and being humble about his power.