The maid led us down the garden path to a small outdoor seating area. Sunlight filtered through the trees, flickering across the white table where two women sat. One I immediately recognized, Queen Aleryn of Karethuun, whom I had met during the alliance council. The other was younger, closer in age to Seraphina. Princess Theresa.

  Both of them rose as we approached. I bowed slightly. “Good afternoon, Queen Aleryn. And this must be Princess Theresa?” I extended my hand. “Earl David Robertson of Brakenreach. And my wife.”

  “Seraphina Robertson, your majesty,” she added, dipping into a graceful curtsy.

  “Please, sit,” Queen Aleryn said, motioning to the chairs opposite them. I pulled one out for Seraphina before taking the other. Allyson moved into place behind me like a silent sentinel.

  The Queen’s gaze flicked toward her. “Is she always with you, Earl?”

  I slightly turned my head to glance at Allyson. “Yes. Always. She is my aide and the voice of both towers. Since I am Tower Master, she’s my link to them.”

  The Queen tilted her head. “And if she were… injured?”

  “Then whatever tried would face me and my wives first.” My tone came out sharper than I intended, and I softened it with a smile. “She is part of my family. I protect my family. Forgive me, that sounded more grim than I meant it.”

  Theresa shifted, but Seraphina leaned forward and opened the small box she carried. “Princess, a token of our visit.”

  The girl gasped when she saw the necklace. Her fingers trembled as she lifted it. “It’s beautiful! Did you make this, Earl?”

  “Yes,” I said, sipping tea. “Forged this morning, from a sketch of a flower I thought would suit you.”

  Queen Aleryn’s eyes widened. “The sheen, surely this isn’t silver…”

  “No,” she whispered, her voice almost reverent. “Mithril?”

  I inclined my head.

  The Queen’s hand shook as she touched the chain. Theresa clutched the necklace to her chest, blinking back tears. “Thank you, Earl. Countess. This is more than I could have dreamed.”

  “My husband does the impossible more often than he admits,” Seraphina said warmly, squeezing my hand.

  “Does he often work with mithril?” the Queen asked.

  “Not only mithril,” Seraphina replied with a smile. “He forges in silver, gold, and orichalcum. And of course, steel.”

  I cleared my throat. “Princess, I was told you’re having some difficulty with mathematics?”

  Theresa wrinkled her nose. “It’s evil. Just evil.”

  I chuckled. “Math itself is neither good nor evil, Princess. Though I admit, division has been called worse.”

  She gave a reluctant smile.

  “Tell me,” I pressed gently. “Addition and subtraction, how do you find those?”

  “They’re fine,” she said, though hesitation lingered.

  So I tested her with a handful of simple problems. She answered correctly, if a little slowly.

  “You’ve a fine grasp of the basics,” I said. “So division is the wall you keep hitting?”

  She nodded, almost sullen. “I just… don’t get it.”

  “That’s honest. And honesty is the best start. Give me a week, Princess, and I’ll have a method for you. Simple, reliable, something we used when I was young. But it will require you to practice. Are you willing?”

  Her face lit up. “Yes! That sounds wonderful!”

  “Good. Then come to the Tower in a week’s time. We’ll have dinner together, and I’ll show you.”

  “Could I attend as well?” Queen Aleryn asked, her tone carefully casual.

  I hesitated, nearly stumbling into a faux pas, but Seraphina swooped in with a smile. “Of course, Your Majesty. My husband often puts his foot in his mouth. Forgive him.”

  Then she turned back to the Princess. “And tell me, Theresa, what’s your favorite dessert?”

  “Cake. Any kind of cake!” the princess declared without hesitation.

  “Cake it is,” Seraphina said, sealing the matter with a smile.

  Allyson sat across from us in the carriage on the way back to the tower. She stared straight ahead, unusually still. Something in me prickled.

  “Allyson, what’s wrong?” I asked.

  She blinked, then answered in her even tone. “What do you mean, Master?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve been feeling stronger emotions from you and Melissa than usual this past week. Maybe it’s just my imagination.”

  Seraphina frowned. “That is strange.”

  “There’s no record of this, Master,” Allyson said, finally looking at me. Her blue eyes held me without blinking. “It is…unusual.”

  “Well, is there a question you need to ask?” I pushed.

  “Yes.” She hesitated, then said, “Why did you choose the name Allyson? I find no prior records.”

  I offered a small smile and took Seraphina’s hand. “As you both know, I am not from here. In my other world, there were two women who mattered most to me before I met you: my mother and my first wife. My mother’s name was Allyson. She died when I was forty.” The memory blurred my voice. Seraphina squeezed my hand.

  “And the other?” Allyson asked.

  “My first wife, Elizabeth.” The name alone cracked something open, and tears slid down my cheeks before I could stop them. “She died five years ago. I spent every day trying to make her forget the illness, little things, small joys, anything to bring back her smile. For a while, it worked. But as the weeks stretched into years, it grew harder to keep that light in her eyes. Watching her fade… watching that strong, stubborn woman grow weaker, it broke me.” My voice caught, but I forced it steady. “It wasn’t until my children dragged me outside, made me look at the blue sky again, that I started to move forward.”

  Seraphina wiped my cheek with a thumb. “My mighty engineer still weeps for his mother and lost love,” she teased softly, then grew earnest. “No matter what, I love you, David. That won’t change.”She shifted, eyes suddenly serious. “We need to discuss family.”

  I blinked. “Family? There are already four of us… Allira and Melissa are part of this household.”

  “Stop.” Seraphina’s tone was shy but firm. “I’m talking about you and me.”

  “Oh.” My heart went very still. “You want a child,” I said, carefully plain.

  She flushed. “Yes. But I want to know how you feel.”

  “I have two grown sons back in my other life, and grandchildren,” I said slowly. “That was then. This is different.” I watched her face hope and fear wrestling. “Is that… a yes?”

  “That’s a very yes,” she whispered.

  “Is having children different here?” I asked, unsure.

  She nodded. “We need the goddess’s blessing. A change in my status panel will show it. That’s all.”

  “Okay.” Pressure gathered in my chest and in my hands. “When do you want to go?”

  “How about three days? That will be my turn with you. The others will step aside.”

  “Do you want to tell Allira and Marlena tonight?” I said. “And in three days we go to the church.”

  Seraphina smiled, relief shining through. Allyson inclined her head once, inscrutable. She paused, then continued, “Agreed. For now, keep this between us.”

  Seraphina’s hand found mine before I answered her. “Yes. Just the three of us.”

  I nodded. Allyson’s gaze slipped back to the window, but there was something like resolution in the way she sat. The carriage rolled on toward the tower, and for the first time in days, I let myself breathe.

  We all sat around the dining table finishing dinner. Allira pushed back from the table, then froze when I asked everyone to wait. Confusion flickered across her face as she sat back down.

  “Sorry, I didn’t want to scare anyone,” I said, taking a breath. “Seraphina and I have…”

  “You’re going to have a baby,” Marlena blurted.

  “Wait, how did you know?” Seraphina asked, looking at Marlena.

  “We’ve known for a while,” Allira said with a satisfied smirk. “We were just waiting for you two to decide.”

  “When are you going to the goddess?” Marlena asked.

  “During my next wife-day in three days,” Seraphina said.

  “All right,” Allira grinned. “That means you and I can spar in the morning. I finally hit level twenty-two in Swordfighting.”

  “Not bad, my sweet. I’m just a bit higher, just thirty,” I said.

  “Gods, that’s eight levels. Not ‘a bit,’ you monster.” Allira laughed. “This will be fun.”

  “How high do levels go?” I asked.

  “Thirty,” Marlena replied. “Thirty means complete mastery in a skill.”

  “What about thirty-one?” I pressed.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Allyson?”

  “Are we talking humans or Engineers?” Allyson asked, calm as ever.

  “Is there a difference?” I said.

  “Yes. The maximum skill, attribute, or class level that humans can achieve is recorded as thirty. Engineers have been recorded far above that. Tower Master Manthest, the first Engineer of Tower Six, reached level two hundred and ten in his class.” Allyson’s voice carried a hint of something like reverence.

  “All right, that’s one monster,” Allira said, eyes wide. “David, what are your stats? I want to know what I’m up against.”

  I held out my hand and summoned the blue status panel. For once, I met Erica’s eyes across the table; she looked both fascinated and stunned.

  [David Allen Robertson]

  Race: Human 4 (evolved)

  Status: Married (Seraphina Robertson, Allira

  Robertson, Marlena Robertson)

  Title: Earl of Brakenreach

  Master of Tower 6

  Demon Slayer (Cataclysm)

  Master of Tower 1

  Age: 20

  Class: Engineer Lvl 32

  Strength: 50

  Intelligence: 30

  Wisdom: 37

  Agility: 40

  Charisma: 38

  HP: 875/875

  MP: 532/532

  SP: 225/225

  Skills:

  ? Blacksmithing - Lv. 31

  ? Structural Insight - Lv. 3

  ? Unarmed Combat - Lv. 15 (Aikido)

  ? Sword Fighting - Lv. 30

  ? Forge Mastery – Lv. 1

  ? Engineering Constructs – Lv. 1

  ? Arcane Integration – Lv. 1

  ? Mana Efficiency – Lv. 2

  ? Enhanced Diagnostics – Lv. 1

  Passive Traits

  ? Analyze - Lv. 5

  ? Perception - Lv. 5

  ? Fire Resistance - Lv. 4

  ? Language Arts - Lv. 2

  ? Precision Forge

  ? Autonomous Calibration

  ? Enhanced Learning Curve

  ? Artisan’s Resolve

  ? Blade Sense

  ? Cognitive Multithreading

  “Erica, please keep what you hear here,” I said quietly. She nodded.

  “Do you want all of them or just the high ones?” I asked.

  “Just the thirties,” Seraphina said.

  “Alright…” I glanced at the glowing panel and took a deep breath. “Engineering’s at thirty-two.”

  Marlena gave a low whistle.

  “Strength…” I hesitated, then chuckled, “fifty.”

  Allira’s jaw dropped. “Fifty? That’s absurd!”

  “Intelligence is holding at thirty. Wisdom… thirty-seven.”

  “Smarter than the rest of us combined,” Seraphina teased.

  “Agility’s forty,” I continued.

  “That explains how you move like that with a sword,” Allira muttered.

  “Charisma… thirty-four.”

  Seraphina snorted. “That would explain why Queen Aleryn was practically licking her lips at you.”

  I grinned. “Only you three are allowed to lick my lips, my dear.”

  Allira chuckled, shaking her head. “He’s impossible.”

  Seraphina just leaned in and kissed me full on the lips, triumphant. “At least he knows the rules.”

  Marlena leaned forward. “Wait, you skipped some.”

  “Oh. Swordfighting’s thirty. And blacksmithing… thirty-one.”

  The table went quiet. Erica stared as though the numbers were written in fire, her mouth slightly open. Marlena’s eyes gleamed, while Allira shook her head slowly in disbelief.

  It was Allyson who broke the silence. “Master… your status reads Human, level four.” Her voice was calm, but there was something reverent beneath it.

  I frowned. “I’ve seen that for a while now. What does it mean?”

  She folded her hands neatly. “It means you are no longer entirely human. As your skills and attributes grow beyond natural limits, your very nature begins to… evolve. The Engineers of the past experienced this. Each step pushed them further from what they were born as.”

  “Evolve into what?” I asked, leaning forward.

  Allyson’s eyes softened, almost regretful. “I don’t know, Master. None of them stayed long enough for us to see what came after five. They always left… or disappeared. By then, they were no longer quite like us.”

  Marlena’s lips parted in wonder. “So you’re becoming something… more.”

  Allira crossed her arms. “Or something else entirely.”

  Seraphina gave me a long, appraising look, then smirked faintly. “As long as you don’t evolve out of loving us, I’ll allow it.”

  I managed a laugh, but the weight of Allyson’s words pressed in like a shadow. Slowly becoming more than human… but into what?

  I unrolled the plans on the table while Allyson and Melissa watched. “Okay, here’s the gameboard,” I said, tapping the diagram. “Squares are two inches. Colors are listed here. These pages show the pieces, designs, numbers, and sizes. One side black, the other white. Any questions?”

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “No, master. Straightforward,” Melissa said.

  “How long to build a prototype?” I asked.

  “Three, maybe four hours for the first set,” Allyson replied.

  “Nice. Maybe I’ll teach you to play tonight.” I looked up, smiling as strong arms looped around me.

  “Play what?” Allira’s voice and then her lips interrupted me. She’d borrowed one of my shirts, just enough to make my morning better.

  “You got up before I could…,” she scolded playfully.

  I grinned and rubbed her sides. “Where are the others?”

  “Still asleep,” she whispered, blue eyes shining like polished sapphires. Her breath brushed warm against my cheek, carrying that faint, familiar sweetness that was hers alone. “What’s that grin for?”

  “You,” I murmured back. I slid my arms beneath her, lifting her as if she weighed nothing. She gasped, then laughed softly, her voice musical against my chest. Her fingers curled into my shirt as I carried her down the hall. The world shrank to the heat of her body pressed close, the gentle rustle of her hair against my jaw, and the steady rhythm of her heart against mine. I shifted her playfully in my arms, her laughter spilling bright in my ear, the loose edge of her shirt slipping to reveal a glimpse of warm tan skin that drew my eyes. That radiant, unguarded smile told me everything I needed to know. When the guest room door closed behind us, the rest of the world fell away.

  By the time we returned, her cheeks still glowed, lips faintly swollen, hair tumbling loose in soft waves that brushed her shoulders. The warmth of her lingered against me even as the dining room greeted us with the scent of fresh bread and steeping tea.

  Three pairs of eyes lifted. Seraphina’s gaze sparkled with amused affection, as though she had been expecting this. Marlena pressed her lips together, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. And poor Allira, her blush flared hotter than the firelight, her fingers fussing with her tangled hair as though that could hide what everyone already knew.

  “Do we need a special room?” Seraphina teased as I sat.

  “There’s a case for it,” I said casually, tearing into a loaf of bread still warm from the oven. “What’s the plan for today?”

  “David and I are going to training!” Allira blurted, her voice just a little too loud.

  Seraphina smirked. “And Erica’s coming with Marlena and me. We’re dragging her to her uncle’s eatery, then shopping. We’ll be spending quite a bit of your money.”

  At that, my eyes flicked to Erica. She sat stiffly at the far end of the table, fingers tight around her teacup. Her cheeks were pink, though not from laughter, more the awkward heat of watching a family so unguarded with their affection. She tried to smile, but her eyes betrayed something else: wonder, curiosity, maybe even longing. For her, we were still strangers. But she had just seen the way we loved each other without hesitation, and I could tell it left her unsteady. Marlena added, “And the Princess’s awakening gathering is tomorrow night.”

  “Right, and isn’t your awakening tomorrow morning, also Erica?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Erica said, head low as she ate.

  “Everything okay?” Seraphina’s voice was gentle.

  “No… I don’t have a dress.” Erica’s voice trembled.

  “Will your family be there?” I asked.

  “No. I didn’t tell them, I don’t want them there. Only you.” Her eyes flicked up. “Would you stand with me?”

  “What do you mean? I’ve never attended one.” I asked.

  Marlena answered, “Usually, someone close to the candidate walks down the aisle during the ritual. The priest does his thing, and at the end of the ritual, more often than not, the candidate ends up fainting. You mostly offer support. There are other priests there, but having someone with you when you wake makes all the difference.”

  “Then I’ll be there,” I said. “And Seraphina, let’s fix her wardrobe.”

  “That sounds fun,” Seraphina said. “We’ll make the day glorious. My father was there for me. David is a wonderful choice.” She reached across and squeezed Erica’s hand; Erica began to cry. I knelt, hugged her. She clung to me and let the tears come.

  “Erica, we’ll get you everything: dress, shoes,” I promised. “And as for jewelry, I have some pieces that would make your eyes just sparkle. You’ll shine. ”

  “Why are you doing all of this for me? I’m nobody,” she sniffed.

  “You know what I said about pastry shops,” I said. “We have soft spots. That’s reason enough.”

  “You’re weird,” she said, wiping her eyes, but she smiled.

  “I have been told that many times. Will you be okay now?” I asked, brushing hair from her face.

  “Yes.”

  “Allira, come beat me with a practice sword,” I said, standing.

  “Sounds great.” She took a massive bite of her sandwich and grinned.

  The plans lay open between us, bread crumbs, laughter, and the small clatter of a normal morning. Tomorrow would be busy, but right now the tower felt like a home: messy, loud, and exactly what I wanted.

  All three of us entered the vast hall where the golems patrolled in steady, measured steps. Their heavy footfalls echoed faintly against the stone as Allira and I walked to the center, practice swords in hand.

  “So, what’s the format today?” I asked.

  “First touch wins. Best of three,” Allira said, her grin sharp with challenge. “Allyson can judge.”

  “Do you want me to hold back?” I teased.

  “Show me what you can do, sweetie.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Yes, very.”

  We stepped back a dozen paces, eyes locked. The room was suddenly still, only Allyson’s calm voice breaking it.

  “Five… four… three… two… one.”

  On the signal, I lunged. The polished stone floor blurred beneath my boots, with each step closing the distance in less than a heartbeat. My practice blade whistled through the air and tapped her thigh before her guard even jutted upward. Her eyes widened in surprise, flashing across her face just as I pivoted on my heel, momentum carrying me into a second strike. The wood cracked against her opposite leg, sharp and undeniable. She tried to recover, the blade jerking higher, but it was too late. My shoulder rolled, my arm snapped, and the third blow smacked across her shoulder with a resonant thud.

  The sound echoed through the hall like a drumbeat. Allira’s breath caught in a startled gasp, and then her feet betrayed her. She toppled backward, the wooden sword slipping from her grip as she hit the floor with a heavy thump.

  I halted, offered her my hand, and grinned down at her. “Fast enough?”

  Her blue eyes blazed as she grabbed my hand. “By the Gods! What was that? I didn’t even have time to react! What the hell, David?”

  “I held back.”

  “Held back?” She scoffed, brushing hair from her damp forehead. “Why didn’t you ever show me this before?”

  I hesitated. “Because I’ve shown it before. When Seraphina was in danger, it… scared her. I don’t want anyone, especially her, to see me like that again.”

  Allira’s grip tightened on my arm. “David. She loves you. We all do. Even this side of you.”

  “I know,” I said softly. But the memory of Seraphina’s horrified face still lived in me.

  She shook her head, smiling despite herself. “You struck three times before I even blinked. And that was you holding back? Damn.”

  “Then let’s go again. Slower this time, so you can study the form.”

  We sparred until sweat darkened her tunic and her breath came ragged. When her swings grew sloppy, I called a halt, refusing to let pride drive her to exhaustion.

  Later, after a hot bath, we collapsed together on the couch. I drifted into sleep with Allira’s head pillowed on my arm, her damp hair spreading across my chest, her breathing slow and even.

  The creak of the house door woke me. I opened one eye to see Marlena staggering inside, arms full of packages, with Erica and Melissa close behind her. Seraphina was last, balancing more bags than seemed possible.

  I raised my free arm in greeting. “Welcome back.”

  Beside me, Allira stirred. I leaned close and whispered into her hair, “They’re back. Time to get up.”

  “Go away, I'm comfy..." she mumbled.

  "My sexy general, it’s time to get up,” I replied, and as I did, I saw the smile emerge.

  “You know I am..." is all Allira said before sitting up, wearing another one of my shirts, covering very little, cheeks flushed, and hair still tangled from our sparring bath. These women know how to tease me. Erica froze just inside the doorway. Her eyes widened, flicking between Allira’s contented smile and where my arm had been wrapped around her. Color rose in her cheeks, and she clutched her parcel tighter, as if the sight had revealed something she wasn’t sure she was supposed to see.

  Marlena noticed the hesitation, a smirk pulling at her lips. “Get used to it, Erica. That’s what home looks like around here.” Erica managed a small, nervous smile, but her gaze lingered on us a moment longer before she followed the others toward the dining table.”

  As the doorman swung open the carriage door, the sound of the gathered crowd spilled in—murmured prayers, the shuffle of boots on stone, and the faint tolling of bells from the high spire above. I stepped down first, the flagstones cool and unyielding beneath my boots, and offered my hand outward.

  Then pain struck. A hot lance through my skull, sharp enough to make my vision swim. Red and blue panels burst across my sight, hundreds of them, too many. Names, levels, titles, traits, all blooming like fireflies in a storm. Faces blurred into data.

  Clenching my teeth, I forced the pain down, trying to keep my knees locked. Not here. Not now. I must stay focused.

  [DING]

  [New Skill Unlocked – Pain Tolerance Level 1

  [DING]

  [Level Up – Analyze – Level 10]

  You have reached a milestone in the Analyze Skill.

  New Trait Gained: God’s Eye

  “The veil of mystery has been pulled aside for you.”

  ?Hidden statistics are now visible

  ?Values that are false will no longer be visible

  154 XP Until Next Level

  The panels didn’t fade this time. They stayed, crowding my vision, a blur of truths and half-truths torn open for me to see. I had walked battlefields before, faced soldiers by the dozens, but this was different. At the front, there had been space, with clear enemies. Here, hundreds of people pressed close, and my vision strained to see each one clearly.

  Seraphina’s hand slid into mine. She descended with graceful ease, the emerald in her low-cut dress gleaming in the sunlight, her silver chain reflecting a flicker of fire at her throat. For a moment, I was certain she saw through me—the strain, the pain—but her smile still warmed me. Her touch steadied my heart, anchoring me in the storm of names and numbers.

  Allira followed, her warrior’s confidence softened by the formal gown she wore. I steadied her as she stepped down, her fingers warm in my palm for that brief moment before I raised my hand again.

  Marlena followed, her golden hair catching the light as she took my hand and descended with quiet grace.

  When all three wives had gathered at my side, I reached once more into the carriage. Allyson took my hand more out of courtesy than necessity, her movements precise as ever, her expression unreadable but softening at the corners when she chose to accept the gesture.

  Finally, the woman of honor arrived. Erica hesitated at the carriage’s threshold, smoothing the fabric of her borrowed dress, her cheeks already flushing. I reached out my hand to her, and after a brief pause, she placed hers in mine. Her fingers trembled against my palm as she descended the steps, and when she looked up at me, the blush deepened until it nearly matched the crimson banners hanging along the church’s great doors.

  Erica’s fingers still rested in mine as we moved forward, with the others following behind. In front of us stood the High Church of Eldros, the seat of the fivefold divinity. Its stone fa?ade rose above us, each block fitted so perfectly it seemed crafted by gods, not masons. Five towering spires reached skyward, each representing a church, their tips adorned with banners of gold and crimson that fluttered in the afternoon breeze.

  Crossing the threshold felt like entering a different world. The noise of the crowd faded behind us, giving way to a sacred silence. Tall columns rose upward, disappearing into vaulted arches decorated with scenes of gods’ trials and victories. Sunlight poured through stained-glass windows in bright beams, casting pools of color on the marble floor: deep blue, vibrant green, and the gold of sunrise.

  The space smelled faintly of incense and polished wood, and every footstep echoed, reminding us of how small we are within these sacred walls. The area between the columns and alcoves contained statues of saints and divine figures, their eyes fixed on the altar at the far end, where five flames burned steadily in golden braziers, one for each aspect of the divine.

  I felt Erica’s grip tighten on my hand, her breath catching at the sight. She looked up at the grandeur, awe mixed with nerves, and I squeezed gently in return. Whatever doubts she had, she wouldn’t face this moment alone.

  Inside, the High Church completely surrounded us. Its vaulted ceiling soared so high that it vanished into shadows, supported by pillars carved with swirling runes that flickered faintly as if alive. The air was thick with incense, its sharp scent lingering in the back of the throat. Every sound—footsteps, whispers, even the rustle of cloth—echoed like a trespasser’s step in a space too sacred for mortal breath.

  The ushers led us to the front, our footsteps echoing across marble engraved with complex symbols of the fivefold divinity. We passed by nobles in jeweled clothing, priests in white and crimson robes, and soldiers standing stiffly along the walls, all bowing their heads toward the altar. Finally, we were guided to a long bench just behind the royal family. The king himself sat only a few feet away, with Princess Theresa beside him, her posture as careful as her father’s watchful gaze.

  Our presence filled the row; Seraphina sat to my right, her hand intertwined with mine. Allira and Marlena stood nearby beyond her. Erica sat to my left, stiff-backed, her fingers knotted in her lap as if afraid to move. I could feel the tension radiating from her, her wide eyes darting across the vaulted space, as if she half-expected to be cast out for daring to sit so close to power.

  The altar sat at the far end of the church. Behind it, a mural stretched so wide that it covered the entire wall from the floor to the arched ceiling. The five gods looked down, their figures larger than life, dressed in garments that represented their roles: one central figure cloaked in pure white and crowned with a gold sunburst, flanked by two lesser gods on each side. To the right, a stern figure armored in silver plates held a massive sword. To the left, a matron in deep green robes had vines and grain intertwined in her hair. Behind them, the remaining two gods stood—one cloaked in shadow, holding a pair of scales for judgment, and the other dressed in flowing blue, raising a crystal staff as if summoning the sea.

  The mural’s eyes seemed to follow me as I stared, each god crafted with such detail that it was hard to believe they were just paint and stone. For a brief moment, I felt as if the weight of their collective gaze pressed on my chest, demanding measure, judgment, and purpose. All I can say is, which one is the Picard fan?

  Erica shifted nervously beside me. Her voice remained calm, but I noticed her quick inhale and the slight tremor in her hands resting on her knees. She felt out of place; she knew it, and in this hall of gods and kings, that was obvious. I leaned slightly, not enough to attract attention, and let my hand rest lightly on hers. Her startled movement faded into stillness, and the color in her cheeks showed both nerves and gratitude.

  The great bronze doors slammed shut behind the last procession, sealing the High Church in an enveloping silence that pressed against the skin. Then the movement started. Priests in flowing white and crimson robes stepped out from side passages, their steps steady, faces grave. They spread across the altar like living extensions of the mural above, each holding a long staff topped with polished crystal.

  In the center, a priestess approached with a gilded brazier. She placed it on the altar, and from it arose the first tendrils of sacred flame. One by one, the five flames were lit, each in a large iron bowl before the painted gods. The fire caught with a hiss and roar, unnatural in its intensity. Gold, silver, green, blue, and black, five colors burned side by side, their smoke curling upward into the vaulted heights.

  The choir then began, hidden in alcoves high above us. Their voices rolled down in waves, layered harmonies that stirred the air until the marble beneath our feet seemed to hum with resonance. The song wasn’t words so much as tone, an ancient chant that needed no translation, its meaning etched in every bone: reverence, judgment, destiny.

  The congregation rose swiftly, the sound of hundreds of boots and robes echoing like thunder. I stood with them, Seraphina’s hand warm in mine. Erica also rose, though her movements were stiff, and her eyes flickered from flame to flame. Her breath was quick and shallow, her lips pressed tightly. The light from the fires cast her features in shifting colors: first gold, then silver, then green, and with each change, she appeared smaller, dwarfed by the vastness of the space.

  From the front, the High Priest raised his staff. The chant fell silent.

  “On this day,” his voice rang out, magnified by the stone walls, “we gather under the gaze of the Five. To awaken those chosen by the gods, to bind them to their purpose, and to set them upon the path that awaits.”

  The words loomed over the hall like a burden. Erica swallowed hard beside me. I gave her hand a gentle squeeze, silently offering reassurance. Her eyes flicked toward me for just a moment, but in that instant, her fear eased.

  The choir rose, their voices intertwining beneath the vaulted ceiling, starting quietly and then ascending to fill the expansive chamber. The very air seemed to tremble as the words echoed through the nave:

  "Everlasting, bright, five flames

  lead us through the never-ending night.

  Four besides, to keep us long,

  and one in the middle, pure and powerful.”

  Their tones grew, solemn and eerie.

  "The hands that form and the paths they create are holy."

  Lord, please mark us with class and sign as you raise us from the clay, divine.

  The notes lingered, echoing like a tide against stone. Erica’s hand, folded tightly in her lap, trembled slightly. Seraphina’s eyes glistened in the firelight. Around us, the congregation bowed their heads, lips moving in silent devotion.

  Then the song faded into a gentle refrain, a final, solitary line that sent a shiver through the chamber:

  “Without the mark, we are but dust;

  With it, holy, in You we trust.”

  The last echo faded into silence, leaving only the hiss of the large braziers. The Bishop stepped forward, the gold thread of his vestments shining beneath the five flames. My analyze skill flashed to life at my request. Who is this individual stepping up?

  [Bishop Varent]

  Level: 30

  Class: Priest

  Title: Bishop

  His voice rose, deep and resonant, reaching every corner of the High Church.

  “Children of Eldros, listen to this truth: walking through this world without the mark of class means being unanchored, not connected to the holy plan of the gods. Without Awakening, a person is without roots, lacking purpose, and easily misled by pride, sin, or worse.” His gaze moved over the gathered youths, and though his tone stayed calm, his words carried judgment. “But the gods are merciful. In their wisdom, they give us Awakening, along with Strength, Wisdom, and Duty. These three virtues tie us to the sacred order. They prove that we are not animals, but children of divinity.”

  A murmur of agreement spread from the benches. The five flames appeared to burn brighter, shadows twisting high across the vaulted murals of the gods.

  “Remember,” Bishop Varent intoned, raising a hand toward the mural behind him, “your class is no accident. The gods choose, and their choice is holy. What is unawakened is unworthy, but what is awakened becomes a vessel of purpose. A farmer may awaken as a warrior and defend nations. A beggar may awaken as a scholar and bring wisdom to kings. The gods waste nothing. All that is holy they claim, and what they claim they shape.”

  Beside me, Seraphina’s grip on my hand tightened just enough to remind me to stay still. On my other side, Erica shifted nervously, her breathing quickening. She looked up at me for half a heartbeat, then down to her lap. The unease was clear; she was about to step into something heavy, but also… she had picked up on the same underlying tone I had.

  Erica’s breath caught; I felt it more than heard it. Her eyes flicked from the mural of the gods to the gilded altar, then down to her lap, as if the weight of expectation was too much to bear to meet the sight. On my other side, Seraphina leaned subtly into me, her hand still holding mine, grounding me amid the overwhelming tide of ceremony.

  “I love you…” she whispered in my ear.

  Varent finally lowered his hands, his last words echoing through the vaulted chamber. Silence hung in the air for a moment. Then, almost on cue, the choir rose once more. Their robes brushed against the stone as voices soared, brighter this time, filled with pride and hope.

  "Awaken, child, the time has arrived.

  The flame will mark the way.

  You are now blessed and holy by God's hand,

  having risen from dust and standing from clay.”

  The brassy sounds of musicians gilded the refrain as it rose higher and reverberated around the room. Warmth emanated from the sound, each note piercing the clouds like sunlight in the vast hall.

  "Go forth, O soul, and accept your name,

  your calling, and your gift, all of which are sealed in flame.

  The stars declare, "Now live forever in their claim,"

  which the gods have written.”

  The final verse was a triumphant shout of harmony, echoing from wall to wall. Even those on the benches joined in, a swelling sea of voices, until the air quivered with it. Erica stiffened beside me, her wide eyes shining in the firelight, her hands tightening in her lap.

  When at last the last note faded, the hush was absolute, as though the entire hall held its breath.

  Bishop Varent raised his arms again, voice low but commanding, echoing through the vaulted hall. “Now… let the candidates step forward with their choices.”

  Benches shifted, and murmurs faded as youths rose one by one, each with a parent, mentor, or sibling. The shuffle of shoes on stone echoed like a drumbeat of anticipation.

  Next to me, Erica pushed herself up. Her hands shook, and her face was pale but determined. I stood up with her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into my touch, finding strength in it, and together we moved into the aisle where the ushers had already started forming the line.

  King Theron and his daughter, Theresa, stood at the front and in the center aisle. They watched the priests prepare everything for their awakening. As other candidates lined up behind the royal pair, names echoed out, each syllable floating through the vaulted air like a verdict. I was shocked to see the first beam of light descending from above, along with the announcements that followed.

  “Behold! Princess Theresa Theran… Divine Healer!”

  I felt happy for the princess; she received a class, a divine class. Off to the side, I noticed several priests assisting the King as they carried the princess out of the church. More names and their classes echoed out, each syllable floating through the vaulted air like a verdict.

  For me, such a calling would never exist. Engineers don’t awaken like the others. No divine voice whispers destiny into our ears. I feel none of the pull these people live for, none of the sacred weight pressing down on this chamber. And yet, I can feel Erica trembling beside me. This moment means everything to her, as it determines who she will be in life and whom she will stand for.

  I couldn’t share the fire of their faith. But I could shield her from its heat, for as long as she needed me to. The line moved forward slowly, footsteps and whispered prayers echoing through the space. When it was our turn, I felt a ripple of change run through the hall. Heads turned. Murmurs grew like low waves. They weren’t watching her; they were watching me.

  I kept my arm around Erica’s shoulders as we moved, but I let my eyes flick sideways. Priests filled the aisle, their expressions a mix of awe, suspicion, and outright distrust. At the far end, waiting at the altar, the Bishop himself regarded me with a stare so sharp it could peel flesh. He knew me. Of that, I was certain. He made no sign, though his hands were folded and his face a mask of duty, but his eyes hinted at something colder.

  The walk felt endless, like a gauntlet of judgment. For Erica, it was nerves; for me, it was scrutiny. When we reached the altar, I helped her kneel and then followed suit. She was trembling again, so I gently steadied her with a hand on her back.

  Bishop Varent stepped forward, raising his hands high. His voice thundered, rolling through the cathedral vaults.“Before the eyes of the Five, let this child be weighed and awakened. Let her place be known!”

  The light came quickly, pouring down from above like molten gold. It surrounded Erica, intensely bright around her figure, removing the shadows from her face. She gasped, eyes wide, and I could feel the raw power vibrating through the stone floor.

  The Bishop Varent’s voice cut the silence.

  “Behold! Erica Alford… Ranger!”

  The word rang through the hall, greeted by applause and cheers from the crowd. Erica’s shoulders relaxed in relief, and her eyes sparkled with tears. Then the moment arrived, her eyes went blank, and the young woman collapsed into my arms.

  I steadied her, pride and protectiveness tightening in my chest. But when I lifted my gaze, it wasn’t to the crowd; it was to the Bishop. His expression remained unchanged. He announced her class as if he were reciting numbers from an account ledger, but his eyes… his eyes never left me. Cold. Measuring. As if reminding me that this ceremony, this faith, this world, would never belong to an Engineer.

  I picked up Erica and carried her back to our bench. I gently set her between Seraphina and me, her head resting against my shoulder as the line of candidates thinned toward the end. As the final youth received their blessing, Varent returned to the altar and raised his hands high. His voice rolled like thunder through the nave. “The gods are pleased. The faithful have answered the call.”

  The choir rose once more, their song swelling until it seemed to shake the very stones of the church.

  “Blessed be the chosen,

  Born to serve the divine,

  Strength to the faithful,

  Glory through the line.”

  The harmony echoed across the vaulted ceiling, climbing higher and higher, until even the silence between notes felt like judgment. Priests moved with solemn precision, extinguishing the tall candles one by one. Smoke curled upward in ghostly trails, cloaking the altar in shadow.

  Next to me, Erica stirred. Her lashes fluttered, and she slowly opened her eyes, blinking as if the world had shifted while she was gone. Confusion lingered there, then relief. Her gaze flicked between Seraphina’s smile, my steady presence, and the vast church still alive with voices.

  “You’re safe,” I murmured, keeping my hand lightly on her own.

  Her lips trembled into a faint smile, though I could see the burden of it all still weighing on her. But even as I tried to reassure her, my mind was elsewhere. This entire spectacle, song, smoke, sermon, it was meant to uplift, to sanctify. Yet, to me, it felt like a cage. Every word was about obedience, service, and the holiness of being “chosen.” When I looked back at the altar, the Bishop’s eyes were still fixed on me, sharp and unblinking through the haze of fading incense.