Chapter 136: New Class
[Class Options: , , , , , [New!] , [New!] , [New!] , [New!] , [New!] , [New!] ]
Excluding some is easy. I don’t have much interest in moonlit dervish, or trapper. Healer feels too underwhelming, and sorcerer too ambiguous. Deathseer feels too nice, I don’t really need premonitions, and darktamer is out because I want Kuro to be themselves. No taming needed.
Dreadhunter is the one I drop next. It’s been a running theme across these past floors, hunting and being hunted. But I don’t want to make that my class. I will, if I must. And from there, finally, the choices get a lot harder.
Modifier is interesting, because I think it encourages me to experiment with skills. Deadzone sounds like the natural evolution of my current nullmage. Copycat probably consumed analyst, keeping the theme of understanding, and perhaps stealing, other people’s skills. And, of course, there’s vesselsmith. More mana.
The one I drop first is copycat. Other people’s skills are interesting. They’re excellent references for developing my own. But copying them exactly? That seems wasteful. No, I need skills that express me. Whose meaning I can interpret and decide for myself.
Modifier drops out of the race next, because despite how much I enjoy changing my skills around, it is something that I can, in part, do with my mantle. I already am an architect, so it feels a little redundant. Perhaps I’m missing out on synergy, but that’s fine.
Which leaves me with deadzone and vesselsmith.
The former is almost certainly a higher tier class. Stronger in most ways. More focused, more powerful, giving me more stats. It sounds strong. Really dang strong.
Which is why I don’t pick it.
Vesselsmith sounds like a class that knows what it’s about. It’s a foundational class. An enabler-type class. Anything I pick in the future will be all the stronger for it, because I can build myself up. I can make my vessel stronger. If I have more mana, stronger mana, when I pick up deadzone on a future class change… then it’ll be all the more powerful.
So, I choose vesselsmith. I choose to lay the foundations for myself, to start building more momentum as I climb.
[Class gained: ]
[Stat bonuses: +3 > +4 Vessel per level, +0 > +1 Heart per level]
[Experience modules: Deconstruction, Disruption, Manaforge]
I frown slightly at the notification. “Tower,” I say slowly. “Please reallocate my point per level distribution. I don’t want points to go into heart.”
[Request heard. Processing. Warning: stat instability can cause physical damage. Class stat attribution is optimized for class purposes. Confirmation required. Change stat distribution despite warning?]
“Yes,” I confirm.
[One of your minor Requests has been consumed for your choice.]
[Stat bonuses: +3 > +5 Vessel per level]
[The Master of Suffering laughs at your guts. He hopes for delightful agony as your mana breaks your body. You are sponsored one minor request.]
[The Vesselmaker turns an Eye to you. It crosses a hundred pairs of arms at your experimentation with a solemn nod. You are sponsored additional essence.]
Then, the notifications fall silent for a moment, before they erupt.
[Creeping Darkness gasps at the Vesselmaker, calling it a rich brat.]
[Flametouched sneers at your sponsorship. It tells you to savour the gift before it turns you to ash.]
[Your actions are witnessed by the Embrace. Curiously, it wonders whether you will fall into its arms all by yourself.]
[The Vesselmaker snickers at the noise, telling the others to pay up if they want to compete.]
I wave a hand through the air, brushing away the noisy Eyes. Still, a thin smile spreads on my face. “It worked,” I mutter quietly. My distribution shifted. All vessel all day. I smile at that.
“You’re an idiot, Snow,” Inu chides me without heat. “Did you really ask the tower to make you more fragile?”
“More vessel means more mana,” I reply calmly, with a thin smile, focusing on my surroundings again. The girl shakes her head at it, but Opal barks out a laugh.
“Hah!” they say with a smug grin. “Our magic maniac, huh?” They cross their arms at me and give me a solemn nod, respecting my decision. Sylves just giggles, and Thatch rubs his face with a smile. I know they’ll forgive me, because they’re all idiots, too.
Still, there is one more thing my new class owes me…
[Skill bestowed: Vessel Construction lv. 0]
That’s the final piece. Essence from the sponsorship still flows into me, whispering about the skill - so I can make sure not to kill myself the first time I use it. I tilt my head a little at the Vesselsmith, but then shake it. Yes, the Eye did help me, but it also just wants to see me experiment. See if I can find out something new - then it’ll probably try to get that information out of me.
Still. At least it’ll help me survive. I probably wouldn’t have died, even without the extra essence.
… Maybe.
Surely.
Regardless, with my class selection finished up, I have seen all my notifications. I can finally lean back, breathe and- Oh who am I kidding. Without hesitation, I activate my new skill, feeding it mana and lifeblood.
[Vessel Construction 0 > 1]
Instantly, my insides burn. My mana turns on itself like a parasite. My vessel feeds on me, devouring bits of flesh like a hungry monster. Pain arcs through me at my horrible use of the skill, even when guided by essence… but it’s just pain. It was just a tiny bit of mana.
I feel things shift inside me. My vessel growing more robust even as the rest of me decays. Shifting, changing. The skill isn’t quite accurate in its naming, I suppose. It really is more like forging.
When I trigger the skill, my own blood burns to “heat up” my vessel. After that, it becomes malleable. My mana can press on it from the inside, and expand it. Physically, it takes up the same space, but metaphysically? I can expand it.
But that’s not all. That’d stretch the walls thin. No, I also need to mend any cracks that come from this, weaving new material by blending mana with my blood. It’s more draining, too, drawing on some kind of stamina I know I have, even if there’s no nice list for it.
Then, once the cracks are mended, I need to go into tempering, make sure it cools down universally, preparing it for another round of treatment in the future…
It’s fucking complicated. What a horrendously botched skill. So many layers in that single ability, and in exchange, the price. I cannot use it on anyone outside of me. The mastery required is far too high. It’s purely internal, purely for myself. It’s brutally complex, with enough steps to make my eyes bleed just trying to envision it properly.
In other words: I love it. Couldn’t be happier. For one final time, I call up my status.
Name: Snow Okiyama - Ion
Floor: 4
Class: - 0 (III - Tier 2)
Job: - 24 (II)
Mantle: Architect of the Assembled Archive
Lv. 75
Heart: 53 - Perpetual Pursuit
Power: 26
Vessel: 392 - Abiding Apathy
Authorities: Efficiency (Initiate)
Skills:
[Suppression lv. 26]
[Selection lv. 25]
[Solidification lv. 17]
[Deconstruction lv. 22]
[Inscription lv. 22]
[Biological Restoration lv. 20]
[Observation lv. 15]
[Intuition lv. 7]
[Memorization lv. 8]
[Vessel Construction lv. 1]
I smile as I see it. Ten skills, now. The ever-invisible essence coursing through me is stronger now, too, refined by my mantle. I can already feel more ideas bubbling in me, now that I’ve broken even more pieces of the tower. Apparently, authorities are listed right above skills.
Notably, it’s authorities, not authority, which tells me that I’ll be able to have multiple. How can I get more, though? Already, I want to reach for that ever ephemeral silence. Well, of course, my headphones will do. Still, I want it.
And, finally, I note that there is a new tab next to my class. The roman numeral seems to denote what number of class it is, while the tier denotes its… strength? Some part of me thinks that there is probably some scaling factor; if I take a tier 1 class as my fifteenth one, then surely it’ll be adjusted to be more powerful, right?
[Intuition 7 > 8]
I look at the notification and snicker. Yes, right, apparently. Tiers do seem to denote the maximum level of classes, though. Stronger classes stick around for longer, maybe? And I think that synergy probably matters a bit more than raw rarity. My skills are a good example of that in the way they reinforce each other.
“Alright, all done,” I say out loud, and the others look at me again with grins.
“Took you long enough. Funny to watch your expressions though,” Opal notes.
I tilt my head. “Is it?”
Thatch nods solemnly. “That’s the most I’ve seen you frown and smile in a while,” he notes, crossing his arms. “Now tell us already. What’s your authority?”
“Efficiency,” I admit with a hint of embarrassment, scratching the back of my head.
Sylves is the first to giggle, but not the last. “Oh, wow. The Tower really got you good. Always climbing, huh? Waste not want not?” Her words come teasingly and with a smile as she slowly twirls in the air. Then, haughtily, she brings her hand to her face, laying it against her cheek. “Well, I, for my part, took the authority of bargaining, thank you very much.”
“Oh no,” I say, gasping dramatically. “Now you can steal my name.”
She giggles some more. “I can, Snow. Would you want that? Will you give me your name?” She reaches out her hand to me, extending it as an invitation with a glint in her eyes.
I think it over for a long second, then smile. “No, I’ll hold onto it for now. Just out of curiosity. But…” I look at her and narrow my eyes. “Oh, you’re sneaky. You stole away your own deadname!”
“Quite so!” she admits with a bright grin. “It shall forever be forgotten. Given away to the Tower itself, netting me a minor request!” The amount of glee radiating off her is so palpable that we even let her gleeful bragging slide. Instead, we just give her some small cheers.
Then, eventually, Opal breaks in. “Well, my authority is nothing so fancy. I simply took… freedom.”
“Oh you rascal,” Thatch chides with a laugh. “Freedom, they say. Not so big, they say. As if you weren’t slippery enough.”
Grinning, they shrug smugly. “Well, what can I say, no cage can hold me. My creativity has been unleashed on this world, and I don’t think the tower’s ready.”
Thatch rolls his eyes. “All I got was remembrance. It feels almost silly in comparison,” he says.
I tilt my head. “I can’t quite tell what it does,” I admit.
“Yeah, it’s just a piece of my build. I think it’ll work well with something I found recently. I’m trying to be more creative with [Channel], and this’ll serve as my… way back, if that makes sense?” he blushes slightly, scratching the back of his head.
Again, I tilt my head. “I don’t get it,” I say honestly
Sighing softly, he nods. “Alright, maybe it’s better if I just- let me show you.”
And then, his mana signature sparks. I see Inu flinch from the intensity of the anger that pours into the room. The sheer rage that floods off of what is no longer Thatch. Instead, around him, there is an ethereal construct of red lines. Built from pieces of what he’s killed. I see rippling cold around him, bladed, serrated limbs from fogfae and sumeen wrapped around his own. His face is clad in a mask of dark red, sporting only six dots for a face. He breathes, and it sounds like a snake’s hiss.
Violence licks against my skin. His gaze tears all the way through me, exposing secrets and vulnerabilities alike. And yet, I don’t fear him. Because I trust Thatch, and if he wants to kill me, I’ll forgive him, too.
For a moment, he rises from the bed, bladed limbs scraping lines in the wood of the little room. A razor-sharp, elongated arm presses into my chest, barely grazing my skin. His faceplate of fury hones in on me.
And then, it all vanishes.
The construct around him crumbles away as Thatch remembers who he is. The [Channel] breaks and falls, with him returning to himself. Into himself. Sylves stares at him, her eyes open wide in surprise. Inu looks at him with worry. Opal grins.
Thatch, himself, pants and rubs his shoulders, giving me a weak smile, sweat pooling on his skin. He almost falls, but I catch him, and his skin feels cold in the aftermath of the fury. He looks at me, afraid. That I might push him away for it. Instead, I pull him into a quick hug.
“Awesome job, Thatch,” I say quietly. “That’s so fricken cool.”
“Hell yeah!” Opal adds. “You’re like a shapeshifter?! That’s sick!”
Sylves just smiles faintly, sadly, as she averts her gaze. “You’re braver than me. Thank you for showing us.”
Thatch’s fear is washed away with gratitude, as Inu gently pulls him back up, steading him, and ruffling his hair. “If it ever gets too much, you can tell us, okay?” she says gently. “We’ll bring you back.”
He nods, quickly, then returns her smile. “What about you, Inu? What’s your authority?”
Without hesitation, the girl gives us a smile. “Void,” she says, as if it’s the simplest thing of all time.
I blink once, then twice. Heccing what now?
Chapter 137: Goodbyes
“Void?” I ask, tilting my head, and Inu nods.
“Yep, void,” she says again, smiling smugly.
Opal nods sagely, scratching at their beard. “Right. Because that doesn’t sound oddly sinister.”
“That’s the point,” Inu snickers. “I needed something defining for my build, and this helps. It lets me play around more with the storage of [Reservoir], and any gravity or nullification based effects will pair nicely with [Resistance]. I got a lot of emotion-based options, but I felt like I didn’t need any help in that. I know I’m kind, I don’t need the Tower to assure me.”
That makes me smile, just a little. I’m glad that she’s not too down about our most recent fight anymore. Usually, I’d have expected Inu to feel the aftereffects of killing someone who was defenselessly scrabbling on the ground for a little longer… but she’s a tough girl, and has only gotten tougher.
I do wonder, though… one of my epitaph offerings was called vicious void. Did she get this because of me? Of course, almost instantly, she notices my thoughts and turns to me, tilting her head with a smile.
“If you beat yourself up over this, I’m going to strangle you,” she threatens with a smile, and I can’t suppress a snort of amusement.
“Not beating myself up,” I say sagely. I try to cross my arms, then remember that I only have one, and the attempt looks a little silly, so I simply lay my hand on the stump of my shoulder.
Inu nods at that, then smiles. “Better not be.”
For a long moment, a companionable silence hangs in the room. We’ve all made our choices, and I can see that everyone seems reasonably happy with theirs. They’re a whole spectrum of flashy, but I’m still happy with what I picked. It’ll let me improve faster. And given how things seem structured, I’m pretty sure I can gain more authorities later.
“You’re smiling again,” Inu notes, and I nod.
“Seems it.”
Opal laughs, leaning back against the wall, lacing their fingers behind their head. “Alright. Let’s talk business, then. What’s next?”
“We’ll climb,” Sylves says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Thatch furrows his brows for a moment. “What about our parents? They don’t have an authority yet. They can’t go up to the fifth floor.”
And, for the first time, I feel like I agree with Thatch. “Yeah, I need Bay to charge my headphones.”
That earns me an exasperated groan from the young man. He puts his head in his hands. “Yes. We also need her to charge your headphones, of course. I want her there because she’s my mom, Snow.”
“Oh, right,” I nod.
Sylves snickers at that, then floats over to tussle his hair. “I think they’re probably safe on the fourth. They’ve found a city, and Amelie seems to be rather good at dealing with the hordes. So, maybe, we establish a foothold on the fifth, and when they come up…”
“We’ll have a spot ready for them,” Inu finishes with a smile. “That sounds good to me.”
Opal groaned slightly. “Dar’s gonna be real upset if I leave them again.”
“You wanna spend another month on the floor that stinks like rot?” I ask quietly.
They blink. “Point taken,” they say, then sigh softly. “So we climb?”
“Yeah, we climb,” I confirm, with everyone’s agreement.
And with that, we set off to meet the others.
- - -
Bay sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Let me get this straight. We just grouped up again properly. We’re on the fourth floor, reasonably safe from any attacks. And your plan is to immediately head upwards, where there is that fiery maniac hunting you?”
“I feel like you are choosing phrasing that makes the plan look less than intelligent,” I note.
“You’re correct,” Bay says. “Because it’s stupid.”
Opal snickers at my misery, but just shrugs. “Well, we can only run away for so long. Flamando will expect us down here. We need to move somewhere.”
“You could go back down to the third,” Norman suggests, waving a hand through the air. He’s leaning casually against the doorframe, but I can see the tension in him, the worried looks he shoots Inu. “Establish ourselves there, grow a little stronger-”
Sylves shakes her head. “No, we can’t,” she says simply. “The third floor isn’t meant for that. It’s a test for climbers. Yes, it scales. Yes, we’d find challenges. But not enough, never enough.”
“It’s about momentum,” Thatch explains, clenching a fist. He can’t meet his mom’s eyes, but he still talks. “Right now, we’re on the upswing. We have to keep it going. Keep getting stronger. Because otherwise…”
“You’ll get crushed,” Jess helpfully supplies. Her eyes are the calmest out of anyone. She leans her head on her hand, thinking as she stares us down. “I see.”
Dar sits in the corner like a kicked puppy. He growls. “I loathe that I cannot accompany my blood-sibling,” he says, even though his arms are wrapped around his legs, pulling them close to his torso.
“Not for too long. You’ll catch up soon,” Opal reassures him with a small smile.
Amelie just shrugs with a sigh. “This suits me fine,” she says. “I was planning to remain on the fourth for a while. This floor has been instrumental to my development. I can learn more here than the fifth could offer me, I believe.”
Jess waves her hand. “Just go,” she says. Her face is pensive, even a little sad, but she still gives confirmation. “Gosh, this feels like telling Inu she can move out.” A wry smile sneaks onto her face at the admission.
When his wife gives affirmation, Norman grimaces for a moment, but then nods with a sigh. “We’ll follow you soon,” he assures us.
“This sucks,” Bay says with a frown. “I don’t like it one bit. But I get it. Go.”
And then, Richard raises a hand. I look at the little hiy’ht for a long moment, and tilt my head. “Yes?” I ask her.
“I have an authority,” she admits sheepishly.
“Oh,” I say, surprised. “I see.”
Richard gives a small smile, her chelicerae gently pressing into her humanoid skin. “Which means I shall be coming along.”
“Good, I was gonna miss having tasty food,” Opal admits with relief.
“First of all, I’m a great cook-” Sylves starts.
“No, you’re not,” Thatch shakes his head. The fairy gasps and looks at him in outrage at the betrayal, swiftly pulling his cheeks.
“How dare you?!” she demands, pestering him, even as Thatch just laughs. I look at the two of them and softly clear my throat, letting them focus again for a moment.
I look around the room one last time, nodding at everyone. “It’s settled then. We’ll head up. You’ll join us whenever you feel ready. We’ll make sure to get a name for ourselves - enough to be known, but not enough to attract attention.”
“Look for the crybabies guild,” Inu says smugly.
“Alright,” Jess says, nodding slightly. She looks at me with icy eyes, and I return the nod. We’ll survive. It’s a promise.
With everything settled, there’s just one more member of our party left to talk to. I glance down at my shadow, and hold out my hand.
Kuro crawls out from that darkness, the cloak whose form they usually take unravelling into their preferred shape - a large centipede, though with a somewhat cutesified appearance. Their long body weaves around my arm, finding purchase with strong legs, as they look at me.
“So, buddy, can you come with us?” I ask quietly. Kuro nods at me, eagerly agreeing.
[The Creeping Darkness informs you that it has instilled a part of its authority in your companion. Additionally, due to your current situation, the Tower will generally consider Kuro and you as a single entity.]
I look up at the ceiling, trying to stare through it to see the eyes, and give a small snicker. What a weird constellation, so attached to seeing me succeed, just because I was a little nice to one shadow critter.
With a small sigh, I direct Kuro to scamper up further, so I can pet them with my single arm. Then, a moment later, they dissolve into smokey darkness, turning back into a cloak that hides my stump. “Well then,” I say out loud, for everyone. “I need one last recharge on my headphones, and we’ll be off.”
Bay laughs for a brief moment at the request, but still obliges. I give the others some time to say their goodbyes, letting them hug and chat and make their small promises of safety. Sitting by the side, I watch it all unfold, the way they interact. A small sigh leaves my lips, and I smile.
It’s nice, seeing my friends happy. It’s nice, going on adventures with them. And I’ll make sure there will be many, many more such adventures.
Chapter 138: Honor
We leave the city as dawn comes. The undead are more aggressive at night, so leaving when the sun comes up means that most of the city is tired. The defenders are at the end of their shifts, having directed their own hordes of minions all night, and new ones are set to only take over in half an hour or so.
Of course, the replacements are staggered, but still. It’s the best time to leave. When it’s still dark, but the undead are placid, and the guards are tired. We slip out one after another. Opal and Sylves make it look easy, teleporting and flying away. Thatch simply jumps over the wall in a giant leap, while Inu climbs up, using her “void” to make herself lighter, and Richard digs underneath.
I, for my part, sigh as I cloak myself in darkness, and hold my mana tightly inside me, letting not a drop of it leak. I’ll miss being able to steal Norman’s techniques for stealth - but that just means once we meet again, I’ll be able to learn even more. Ah, I’m so curious how far they’ll go. How far I’ll go in the same time.
With everyone’s abilities set in my archives, I use my mantle to channel a fragment of [Unassuming] into me. That, combined with my mana suppression and Kuro’s help lets me sneak out of the gates undetected, quickly disappearing between the shambling undead bodies.
[Suppression 26 > 27]
And then, we’re outside. In the wilderness of the fifth floor. Where water goes stale in hours, and food spoils within days. We have preserved rations, of course, but the faster we’re out of here, the better. We did get a map to a nearby ascension well, so hopefully it won’t take too long.
One of the skeletons steps a little too close to me, and I quickly manifest a needle of mana, controlling it to pierce into its eye and fall apart there. My mana pushes out the remnants keeping the skeleton alive, and it falls to the ground in a pile of bones.
[Solidification 17 > 18]
With quick steps, I head further into the wasteland of bones and graves, smelling the rot, feeling the way the fetid mana brushes against my skin. And once more, I’m reminded of why this floor sucks. There is no proper rest out here for any lone climbers. It’s a constant, eternal grind.
And yet, somehow, I look forward to it.
- - -
Reaching the ascendancy well takes three days. We sleep in shifts, and even that’s not quite enough to get us a lot of rest. I do my best to hide our presence, but while I sleep, the others aren’t so lucky. They have to constantly fight off the undead. By the end of the three days, they’re all ragged.
My Perpetual Pursuit epitaph and my authority over efficiency allows me to weather it better than them. Even with that, though, I spend more mana than I regenerate. For the first time in a long while, my vessel is consistently trickling down, sitting at about half-full when we finally find the well.
Even that is twisted by the influence of this floor. The golden pattern is inlaid into a bone mausoleum, guarded by spectres and wraiths - aka the perfect targets for [Deconstruction]. Like the fogfae before them, I pick them apart with the skill.
[Level Up! 75 > 76]
As always, my points go into vessel. The bone-cathedral is impressive, but I disregard it entirely. Instead, what my eyes focus on is the ascension well. I take a deep breath. “Ready?” I ask the others.
Inu, Thatch, Opal, Sylves, Kuro and Richard all affirm, and with another moment, we step onto the gilded lines carved into the floor.
[Ascend?]
The tower’s prompt comes as reliably as always. I look at it for a long moment, then nod. The white light consumes my world, my vision eaten up as I’m transported to the challenge.
[Challenge: Worthiness. You’ve climbed so far, you’ve won so much. Are you worthy of power’s touch?]
I blink, and the world around me changes. Whiteness pulls away to reveal a simple room, one with pale walls made from wood, and a floor that is covered in dull, grey carpet. In front of me, there is a desk, and behind it, on a chair sits… me.
A mirror image of myself. Those same dark eyes, the white-dyed hair with dark roots poking out, the chipped black nail polish I keep reapplying. I stare at myself, and then my clone gestures at the seat in front of the desk. “Sit,” mirror-me says easily.
Tilting my head, I step forward, pull back the simple chair, and sit down. For a long moment, I just stare at this construct of the tower, because that’s what it must be, and my mirror image’s lips curl upward slightly, in a smile that is far more emotive than what I could ever manage.
“You got it exactly right,” mirror-me says. “I am not you. This vessel was created in a way that minimizes the processing power required to conjure it up. Would you be more comfortable if the Tower took a different shape?”
“Change your eye colour,” I say simply. “And your hair. Those are mine.”
“Very well,” the tower’s avatar nods, and the changes happen quickly. The eyes turn a dull blue, and the hair goes darker than that, like an ocean in the sun. “Is this better?”
When I nod, my clone’s lips curve upwards again. “Wonderful,” the Tower says. “Are you ready to speak?”
“I need to give you a name.”
“You may just call me the Tower?” it suggests, tilting its head as I so often do.
In response, I shake mine. “No, that won’t do. I think I’ll call you… Yuki.”
“That’s just snow,” Yuki notes, tilting its head the other way.
At that, I grin. “It sure is, Yuki.”
The avatar looks at me with a calm, plain expression that’s far more suitable to my face than the smile from before. Those eyes, staring me down, glimmer for a moment, and then Yuki nods. “Mood parameters elevated. This appears to be an acceptable name to you. Are you ready to speak?”
This time, I nod. “What is there to speak about?”
Again, the avatar breaks out into a smile that looks out of place on my face. “Your worthiness,” the Tower says, gesturing at the table in front of it. There are sheets of paper with questions laid out on them. “Ascenders must prove worthy before they are allowed up.”
“What decides worth?” I ask.
At that, a glint appears in those pale eyes. “Many things. Fairness plays a role. Viciousness does, as well, and so does honor. The Tower is intended to be climbable, so it frowns on others sabotaging each other. Still, sometimes climbers must die. We are lenient. But you…” Yuki places both hands on the table and leans forward. “You are looking to ascend, properly. You have ambition. You are interesting. So show it. Show it your worth.”
I tilt my head a little. It’s odd to see my own face invading my personal space. Then my eyes drift to the papers again. “Alright. Let’s go through your questions, then.”