Leonidas was ushered out of the assessment chamber, as he mentally referred to it, by an impatient Ceruviel—who promptly shut the doors to the rounded area in his face, and left him in the hallway with an amused looking Celia.

“I take it they kicked you out?” she asked in English.

“Yeah. Without any hesitation,” Leonidas replied with a sigh. “Apparently I have to complete a trial?”

“That’s what I was told,” Celia confirmed while motioning for him to follow, and setting off down the expansive, tapestry-decorated wide corridor on the third level of the guild house. “I’ll guide you to the training field where the tests take place.”

“Ceruviel mentioned not telling anyone I’m her Squire,” Leonidas said while following Celia when she set off. “But how does that work when she announced it for the whole damn foyer to hear?”

“It is unlikely that anyone in the trial will recognize you, since they were already there and waiting prior to your arrival—but if need be, we can also veil your appearance.” Celia said with a smile and glance backward. “Do you have a helmet or mask?”

“I have a helmet,” Leonidas confirmed, “but I was told not to use it, even though it’s bonded to me. It messes with Psi, or something. The Amplifier I got from the Store is a headpiece too, but that’s more of an, I dunno, circlet or whatever than a real cover.”

“Hm. You said the helmet was bonded?” Celia asked with a thoughtful sound.

“Yes,” Leonidas confirmed.

“Why not bind the Amplifier to the helmet?”

Leonidas stared at her for a moment, and then his eyes widened.

“I can do that?”

“Did Ceruviel not tell you?”

“She most certainly did not!” Leonidas groused, and immediately lifted his right hand to summon his [Psionic Amplifier] from his [Spatial Storage Ring] with a surge of mana and flash of Intent.

“And you already have a storage ring, as well?” Celia asked in surprise. “I see that the Duchess is taking care of you.”

“Hardly.” He snorted. “I bought this on my own, though she has updated my entire wardrobe.”

“You bought that on your—but those go for at least one hundred and sixty Aetherium!” Celia exclaimed. “Where did you manage to acquire that much currency? Is your family rich?”

Leonidas blinked in surprise at her words, and glanced down at his ring. Rich? Well, he’d thought he was, until the store had all but bankrupted him. A quick sweep of his memories followed, and then his eyes widened fractionally.

I have a 50% discount on the Store! He remembered abruptly. Has the System just been showing me the prices after discounting them, instead of including the original cost?

Out loud, he responded with a simple “something like that”, which didn’t quite satisfy Celia’s curiosity, but seemingly was enough to give her a hint not to pry further.

A passive 50% discount hadn’t seemed as impressive when he’d first received it, though he’d been far more focused on the fact that the System was calling him the worst mass murderer since Mao Zedong. The Great Leap forward had claimed the lives of somewhere between thirty to forty million innocent Chinese, and yet compared to what he’d done—inadvertently or not—by unleashing the System, it was a drop in the ocean.

The blood of billions, in theory, stained Leonidas’ hands.

Whether or not he was aware of what he was doing was moot.

He tried not to think about it too often, for the simple reason that if he started spiraling down that rabbit hole, he wasn’t sure he was ready to truly handle it. There was something to be said for circumstance and ignorance, but Azrageth had warned him. That was a sticking point that remained in his mind, too.

Azrageth had warned him. Azrageth had known. He had been self-aware.

What, then, did that mean for the [Integration Trial] and Elatra at large?

The thought that perhaps he hadn’t been part of some simulated space, but instead genuinely taking part in a fight on another world, and been transported back to his own following its conclusion haunted Leonidas. In the most repressed recesses of his mind, he wondered what that actually meant for him—and for Altera. He hadn’t missed the anagram, after all. Only an idiot would.

Elatra. Altera. He had assumed it to be some sort of clever play on words by the System, using an existing System world to create a mock-up trial in order to test human potential for Integration.

It also didn’t explain why he, of all humans on Earth, had been chosen.

There were too many questions, too few answers, and he could already feel the existential panic, anxiety, and dread coming on in a way that he simply did not want to deal with. So, instead, he did exactly what his time in the war had taught him: he compressed it all, tied it into a neat knot, and threw that shit as far down his mental filing space as he could.

He could worry about it later, after he wasn’t being whiplashed between random events like an episodic television show. Combat, in many ways, helped him to disassociate as well: it was something he understood, something that consumed all of his attention, and something he was—for better or worse—remarkably good at.

“So,” he asked Celia while pretending like he hadn’t just gone down the psychological kaleidoscope, “how do I do this bonding thing?”

“Oh. It’s quite simple. Let’s stop here and I’ll guide you through it.”

Leonidas halted obligingly, and the cheerful brunette stepped closer and extended her hands for the amplifier he was holding. With a raised eyebrow, Leonidas handed it to her, and she spoke when he did.

“Now summon your gear, and I’ll show you what to do!”

“Okay,” he said obligingly, and while trying to ignore the fact she smelled like a wonderful floral mix combined with the slightest hints of coconut moisturizer.

A mental flex of will and expenditure of mana followed, and his clothing was covered immediately by his armor. He still didn’t quite understand how it all worked, other than the fact that his armor—which still qualified as [Damaged]—seemingly forced whatever he was wearing to displace.

It did so in a way which allowed the plate to unobtrusively form over what he was wearing, and would subsequently reset his clothing back to normal once he dismissed it again.

This time, he mentally included his helmet in the summoning, and the familiar darkness at the far edges of his peripheral vision set in when he summoned it.

“Done,” he said through the helmet.

“Huh…” Celia said thoughtfully. “That armor looks ancient. Was it an heirloom?”

“No, I bought it from the Store,” he said with a slight shrug, and a clink of plate and chainmail.

“I see… Hm. It’s quite an old design. That will certainly raise some eyebrows, but as long as you win,” she smiled warmly, “I suppose it won’t matter. Now then…” Celia lifted the crown-like Amplifier, narrowed her eyes, and held it just above his helmet—though she had to stand on the tips of her toes to do so.

Leonidas pointedly kept his gaze upward.

“What do I—”

“Channel your Core-aspected mana into the helmet,” Celia cut in, “and let me know when it starts to tingle.”

“To tingle?” he asked skeptically.

“To tingle,” she confirmed with a grin.

Leonidas frowned, but didn’t doubt the woman. She was the Adventuring Guild official, not him, and treating her evident kindness with disdain seemed like a one-way ticket to consequences he wouldn’t enjoy. With a steady breath out, he reached into himself and found his [Cataclysm Core]. With a mix of his Willpower and practiced methodology, he gripped the seething ocean of scarlet fury roiling within his nascent Core-space, and tore it free of its housing.

The Cataclysm Mana attempted to flood outward immediately, but Leonidas held onto it with firm attention. His [Noble’s Resolve] flared in the back of his mind, and he felt a sense of authoritative control suffuse him. Ever since Ceruviel had explained the ability to him, [Noble’s Resolve] had been triggering far more often—or rather, he had been able to notice it more often.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

The Skill’s power added to his own already-considerable—for his level, purportedly—Willpower, and Leonidas was able to force the surging maelstrom of Cataclysm Mana along his mana channels with only a moderate amount of seething pain.

For all that he had adjusted to the sensation, the reality was that his Cataclysm Mana was still scouring him every time he used it—and with no immediate level-up pending to soothe the burn, he would need to endure the subsequent pins-and-needles feeling that rippled through him in the aftermath.

His mana reached the crown of his head, and he felt it break around the Chakra—which he understood to be very much real, thanks to his time on Elatra—within his skull, and jump from his internal channels to the bonded helmet ensconcing his body. The moment it flooded the piece of armor, he felt his [Archon’s Warplate] subtly vibrate and flood with a strangely pleasant heat, and almost instantly, the helmet started to tingle.

It was the weirdest feeling, yet that was the only way he could articulate it.

“Okay,” he said while half-distracted by his focus on controlling his power, “what now?”

By way of answer, Celia immediately dropped the Amplifier on top of his helmet.

“Push the mana between your helmet and Amplifier.”

“But I thought the Amplifier only uses Psi—”

“Only because you do not understand your Affinity’s full use yet,” Celia said with polite but firm interjection. “Please do as I said.”

Without further argument, Leonidas complied.

The moment he did, he felt something spark between the [Psionic Amplifier] and his [Archon’s Warplate], and a moment later his mental Synergy tracker went up by five percent instantly.

When it did, he saw a flash of white light in his vision. It faded nearly instantly, and when it did, he noticed that the darkness which had once occluded his periphery was gone—and instead, he had a complete and unbroken view of everything around him within range of his natural eyesight.

More than that, he could feel Celia. It was difficult to explain in a way that his rational mind could process it, but it felt as though he had suddenly achieved an awareness of her that was at odds with his prior comprehension of the world. It wasn’t an active sense of knowing where she was, but instead it was like he was able to willingly choose to know where she was—and could opt to focus on her and track her, using that option, on a whim.

His [Psionic Focus], in other words, had been boosted considerably.

It would be extremely useful for what he assumed was either a group or individual combat trial looming before him.

“Okay. This is awesome,” he said simply. “Though I don’t know why I can suddenly see everything. It feels like I’m not wearing anything.”

“That is the nature of a Psi-attuned improvement,” Celia said brightly. “It uses your psionic senses to create a real-time sensory input for what is happening around you. The cost to maintain it, to my understanding, is also negligible. You won’t even feel the drain it puts on your resources, so long as your total Psi is over twenty-five points.”

“Can I turn it off?”

“Of course,” Celia said with a laugh, “you just need Intent, like everything else.”

Leonidas tried it immediately, and his vision returned to the shadowed peripheral view he’d had prior to bonding the [Psionic Amplifier] to his armor. A second later he flexed another thread of Intent, and his unobstructed vision returned once more. Or rather, the darkened edges of his peripheral sight simply faded away.

“I see!” He said with excited realization. “It doesn’t replace my vision, it just corrects the obstructed areas.”

“An astute observation, Achilles! Yes, that is quite a perfect description of the enhancement.”

“And all Amplifiers do this?”

“Bonded ones do,” Celia said with a raised finger, and a cheerful smile that he found infectious. “It’s quite cool, actually, to see someone with bonded armor. It’s pretty rare, even among the Guild members.”

“I suppose I’m as ready as I’ll ever be for the trial, then.” Leonidas said with a glance down at his faintly battle-scarred, and lightly damaged gauntlets. “I hope the wear and tear doesn’t lose me points.”

“No, I don’t think it will.” Celia said with a laugh. “It makes you look like a veteran.”

“One that maintains their armor poorly, though.” he groused with remembered lessons of proper equipment care, and Miranda’s scolding whacks, resonating through his mind.

“Perhaps, though I think you look quite rugged.” Celia said with another grin. “Though we’ve probably delayed enough. I think we’re going to cut it a little too close if we don’t hustle.”

“Oh. Right,” Leonidas said with a nod. “Let’s go.”

Celia set off again immediately, Leonidas followed her through the expansive guild corridor, down several flights of winding stairs he’d only recently ascended, and then out through what he assumed to be a side-corridor on the ground floor and through a small pair of double doors into the grounds beyond the Guild house.

When they emerged into the sunlight, Leonidas let out a low whistle while he followed Celia over the flat green behind the Guild house’s structure, and toward the same training field he’d partially spied upon arriving at the Guild.

It was only a few dozen yards from the main building, and consisted of multiple different areas—some open, and some obfuscated—where myriads of Adventurers appeared to be practicing their craft.

Ranged combatants sent spells, arrows, and throwing weapons of all different types hurtling toward distant targets on a carefully separated practice range, watched over by green-uniformed attendants and the occasional combat-centric guild officials. Each one of the latter was easily identifiable, despite their eclectic and myriad armor styles, by the green cloaks or sashes they wore emblazoned with the Guild emblem.

Elsewhere, melee fighters struck either what appeared to be animated golems, inert target dummies, and even each other under the critical eyes of more Guild officers—with the occasional instruction or barked command following any mistakes or missteps.

The sheer vibrancy of life, color, and thriving enthusiasm momentarily blew him away. The Guild, in that moment, became real to him in a way that his mildly-permanently shocked mind hadn’t been able to grasp prior. It gave the new ‘fantasy’ aspects of Earth a sense of reality and life that his brain still hadn’t quite fully accepted, and in that instant, he realized to his core that things would never be the same.

This, he finally understood, was his new real life.

The moment that acceptance settled on him, he felt tension melt away.

Celia, utterly oblivious to his momentary epiphany, led him past several lanes of training and—while exchanging hellos and smiles with various Guild staff and enforcers—beelined for a small arena of elevated white marble seating, with gaps between each section. Sets of benches, rather than individual seats, were placed at the points of the compass, and each one was long enough for ten people to sit comfortably abreast.

They were built in layers of five, with the lowest at level with the open area of sand below, and the highest perhaps ten feet in the air. The arena itself was quite spacious, with a diameter of about fifty yards and enough room for combatants to fight and maneuver comfortably without excess range. In the middle, a muscular elf in the Duskguard’s silver plate was delivering a stern lecture, and appeared to have swapped his normal cloak for the Guild’s green.

An officer of both the Duskguard and Guild, then. That was interesting.

When Celia stepped through one of the gaps in the arranged seating, Leonidas followed her silently and assumed an instinctive parade rest behind her when she came to a halt.

“{...the furthest thing from acceptable! To be Licensed by the Adventurer’s Guild, you must—eh? Celia?}”

The elf speaking paused mid-diatribe, and turned to face the buoyant brunette.

“{Hello, Cerevil! I’ve brought a late arrival for the trial.}”

“{We’ve already almost finished the orientation speech,}” the man, Cerevil, said with a frown. “{He’s too late to join us.}”

“{Ah… about that,}” Celia said while stepping forward, and leaning up to speak to the elf quietly. While she did, Leonidas cast his gaze around at the occupied seats. Close to two dozen faces looked back at him, and he saw the most eclectic mix of people yet; from young and soft-faced humans that couldn’t have been older than eighteen, to grizzled elves and orcs, one dwarf, a pair of what appeared to be gnomes, some beast-kin races of several types and even—if he wasn’t mistaken—a girl that could have been Sinalthria’s younger sister.

She regarded him with cold appraisal, and her molten eyes tightened in what he thought was consternation when she did, before abruptly turning her attention away and dismissing him from her notice.

“{Achilles!}”

Leonidas raised an eyebrow beneath his helm, and then turned back to Celia and Cerevil when Celia called his name. Mutters and ripples of laughter spread among the humans, and even some elves, when his name was called—but he ignored them studiously. Instead he stepped forward dutifully, and nodded in greeting to Cerevil, who appraised him with a more careful and nuanced gaze after whatever Celia had said to him.

“{It’s rare we have a recommendation, instead of simply another applicant. Usually, your kind bypass the trials. I’m interested to see what you’ve got.}”

“{I’m honored to be given the chance to participate,}” Leonidas said simply.

“{Hmph. We’ll see.}” Cerevil replied. “{Go take a seat, we’ll be starting the first matches when I finish the outline of expectations. I’ll start over for your benefit, but don’t expect preferential treatment beyond that.}”

Leonidas could already feel the glares of the others, but he simply bowed his armored head.

“{Thank you, Master Cerevil.}”

The elf blinked at his words, and Leonidas could have sworn he stood a little straighter after they were said. Around them, he also heard the crowd’s reaction in a mix of Haelfennyr and English.

“{...be a lord…}”

“...pretentious name, too…”

“{...Master Cerevil! Puh-lease…}”

“...kind of asshole calls themselves Achilles, bro…”

“{...absolute blowhard…}”

“...and settle down, Brad Pitt. Fucking loser…”

Cerevil’s words cut through the noise moments later, and the voices fell silent.

“{Hmph.}” He rumbled thoughtfully. “{Right. Yes. Go on, then. Take a seat.}”

Leonidas grinned under his helmet, turned, and made his way toward the stands. His eyes swept the seating, and he noticed more than a few looks of annoyance or outright disdain after his exchange with the proctor. Judging by the intense stares of his new peers, it was not going to be a merciful competition.

Excitement stirred within him, instead of any kind of idiotic embarrassment.

He didn’t care what the people there thought of him. He’d long ago grown past being sensitive to the petty whims of other people, regardless of what inspired them. He hadn’t conquered or united half of Elatra by being cowed by some glaring teenagers. Compared to Azrageth or his Infernal Generals, the death stares he was receiving were laughable attempts at intimidation.

What they signified, however, made him smile.

After all, dislike was an excellent combat motivator.

And Leonidas loved a good fight.

Rough Concept art of Celia