Earth, a full day after the release of the Unified Trial Theory…
Somehow, it went exactly as Milock predicted. First were the middling influencers, then were some of the slower moving news channels. It wasn’t like this was anywhere near the top of trending or anything, but it was making waves in places that mattered.
Except not quite in the way he wanted it to.
Ryan could accept all of that, at least a lot of people were being somewhat genuine there.
Then came the people whose lives revolved around the entire skill training industry. They vehemently defended their own methodology against his, which was fine. He could prove them all wrong later.
Finally came the academics, and somehow they were the worst of them all.
The oldest stodgiest dude was having his weekly podcast with an interviewer. He looked down through his spectacles at a tablet that was clearly playing Ryan’s video.
He called himself the ‘Professor of Classes’. A doctorate in Trial classes, if you could believe that existed. He was having a standard podcast with an ass-kisser that looked up to the old ‘Professor’ as a figure of authority.
“So, Dr. Rhuvera, what would you say to this new ‘Unified Trial Theory’ that’s making its way around the adventuring circles?”
The Professor of Classes gave a look to the interviewer like ‘are you really asking me this question?’
When obviously they were bringing it up because it was currently a hot topic in the first place.
Dr. Rhuvera shook his head, condescension riddling his voice.
“While I applaud the enthusiastic work of young adventurer Robinson here, a sample size of three alongside the lack of control just simply makes these findings unreliable. He also does not take into account what the Trial classes themselves need. How do you know whether your wants align with what the Trial class need if you do not at first act like your class first? Simply put, this is one of the many interesting steps you should take after taking some time to act like your class.”
Dr. Rhuvera firmly believed that Trial classes had some sort of ‘need’ that was best found by trying to emulate what the classes showed in the class orbs.
Bias. Ryan could smell it from afar. The Professor of Trial Classes had popularized the idea of ‘acting like your class’ and had his face stamped on top of the best-seller ‘A Classic on Classes.’
Hence why the other podcaster’s head was so incredibly far up the professor’s ass.
“So you say there might be some merit in following these steps?”
Dr. Rhuvera nodded.
“It should be noted that this is not a novel idea at all. If you paid attention to one of my posts on my ‘musings on Classes’ blog. I have detailed long ago that acting like the class you want to be given before your class options would have the highest chance of being offered a class with increased rates of resonance in the first place. Outlined with proper statistical observation from how the French and Australians tend to have more frequent class resonance. Simply put, if you want to follow the idea that your desires matter to your Trial class then that would be the equivalent of the saying ‘an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of a cure.’”
The Professor of Classes’ website had over a thousand posts over decades detailing every single rambling thought and possibility of the Trial System. The smug condescending bastard was using that massive backlog of dragonshit to claim that this was something that he had already thought of long ago.
It didn’t matter that his conclusions didn’t help the adventurers stuck right now, nor did it talk about the fact that the vast majority of adventurers could only pick between three classes in their initial entry to the Trial System.
The thing that really infuriated Ryan was that he could see what the professor was doing. The esteemed Professor of Classes was setting things up so that he won no matter what ended up happening.
If it turned out Ryan was wrong? He would talk down on him with those arrogant spectacles again. If it turned out Ryan was right? He would claim that it was all built on the Professor’s ideas.
The worst part? It was like what Milock had said. First impressions mattered and now Ryan was looking like a hasty kid that no veteran adventurer wanted to associate with.
Ryan turned to Grevich.
“How many ninth realms have responded?”
Grevich tried to look undisturbed, but Ryan couldn’t help but see the regret on the assistant’s face now that he had taken a nap.
“A couple, but all of the adventurers on the top of the list have declined or have mentioned they’re busy. This is my fault I should have—”
“No, it’s mine.” Ryan interrupted Grevich. “I should have shared this with my team first. They’d have called me an idiot and I might have listened. Don’t worry I’ll fix this.”
The assistant of Raidco’s Mastery was no longer looking at him like someone that could do no wrong.
“Are you certain.”
“It won’t matter once I get a couple ninth realms resonating with their classes. We’ll get a dragonslayer if we need to as well.”
“I, ahem, believe that maybe taking a step back and providing consistent results would be more conducive in the long run.”
“No, we’ll find the loudest ninth realm we can and then—”
A knock echoed out from the door of the enchanted room. It opened immediately without waiting for either of them as the receptionist opened the door and was clearly out of breath.
“Adventurer Robinson. You have an important visitor.”
“Who?”
“The CEO of Raidco, [Dragonslayer Warrior] Ineza wishes to see you. Assistant Grevich, you were requested afterwards as well.”
Grevich’s eyes bugged out in his skull. Meanwhile, Ryan narrowed his eyes a little.
“Well, that was sooner than expected.”
Both receptionist and assistant looked at him like he was out of his mind.
——
At the same time, The Realm…
Dragonslayer Colost was always good at figuring out where the winds would blow. From the moment when the UK government requested volunteers to gain superpowers and risk their lives on a new world, to when he had jumped ship and joined the side of the Tyrants in secret.
When all that was revealed, of course his country called him a traitor, that lasted… all about a decade when he became a dragonslayer and the Tyrants won the war over public perception.
You see, Colost knew that would happen.
It was the same with leaving the Kingstrike clan too. That whole group started to get messy and problematic. Too many cooks sleeping around in the kitchen as Jeauamper would have put it.
Dragonslayer Colost had left them too.
Only a few years later they had blown up too.
While Colost was not the Witch Tyrant, he believed himself to be a deeply rational, intelligent man.
You could see it now.
All those dragonslayers risking their lives trying to climb the Trials and exploring the new world? Facing unknown esoteric threats that seemed capable of wiping out teams of dragonslayers without a single emergency flare going off?
Irrational.
And for what?
Achievements?
None of them other than the Tyrants would complete the fifteenth Trial. You could see the way the numbers had cut off at every fifth Trial. Even now, when every single Dragon of the tenth trial had been mapped out… you still had to have enough firepower to kill a damned dragon.
Tens of thousands of ninth realms… three hundred dragonslayers.
Simple math.
Colost believed that nobody other than the Tyrants were completing the Fifteenth Trial. Hell, Mezhar’s team failed the highest trial, and that had only been the thirteenth.
Naturally Colost knew some… other things beyond public knowledge but even without it, the rational man would have come to the same conclusion.
He needed a different way to secure his future. Potentially find a new method of advancement as well. If the wider cosmos came into play, he would prefer not being the ‘average’ dragonslayer.
Thus his own plan, something that only a handful of other adventurers were doing at the moment.
Building his own Kingdom in The Realm.
Sunstone City.
Naturally, his city of two hundred thousand Realmers was subservient to the Tyrants… but that was the thing, subservient only meant they ‘naturally listened to and followed the rule of the Tyrants’.
Funnily enough, that didn’t involve taxes.
Colost’s rapidly growing city on the edge of Sector Six, near the tri border of Sector Six, Nine and Ten, did not need to pay taxes to the Tyrants.
Oh the Secretary had suggested that things might change in the future, but he still had the letter from Henrik suggesting that he was happy for him to expand as long as the Realmers were kept safe.
And even the Secretary couldn’t simply overrule that letter.
Besides, it wasn’t like dragonslayer Colost hadn’t spent blood sweat and tears on his city. For the first decade or so he had been so deep in the red that he wondered every single day whether he had lost his mind. Infrastructure costs for a ‘mere’ fifty thousand Realmers costed him billions upon billions.
Not to mention having to provide incentives so that Realmers would even want to move here.
He had taken loans, hunted monsters without end and even worked on his city himself.
Now… with over two hundred thousand Realmers strong, with fees, the city taxes, and being the favored hub of ninth realm adventurers, they were finally in the black.
Dragonslayer Colost could see the promised lands.
Wealth and influence, all of which would translate into his future growth.
While the other dragonslayers had to break their backs to generate billions a year, he could now do that without risking his life. If the day came when there were too many dragonslayers and laws would have to be made to stop them from overhunting, then they would have to slow down and find other avenues for growth. Meanwhile, Colost would have grown his city beyond anything they could imagine.
Sooner or later, people were going to come up with safer methodologies for advancement.
Colost was sure of this.
You just had to look at the current rates of advancement for dragonslayers. There had even been a team that reached ascension without having a single damned Epic in their skills!
All because they found a way to ascend before the tenth Trial.
The video he was currently watching was simply more confirmation of the endless potential for growth of The Realm and Earth. Sure, this newbie adventurer, Ryan Robinson was a little overeager, ‘Unified Trial Theory’! What arrogance!
But that was the exact spirit Colost wanted to encourage.
Sooner or later, one of these overeager people would find a path forward.
And when that happened, Colost would be ready with the wealth and influence of a proper kingdom at his beck and call.
The location of his city was perfect, maybe not quite as perfect as Vitalia with their continuous supply of regeneration potions, but his city was the favored location of the ever-growing number of ninth realms.
His city had potential for far greater growth in the future.
As always, Colost had made the right bet.
While other cities in Sector Eight and below were all evacuating to the inner Sectors. Sunstone, Vitalia and five others kept a strong amount of Realmers in place. All of them saw their tall enchanted walls and their dragonslayer protector and knew that things would be safe here.
Even the couple thousand that had left his city just in case were wanting to come back. He did not disparage them at all, simply welcomed them back to their homes.
Everything should have been good.
At least until the sky lit up in the distance.
As a dragonslayer he had felt the echoes of power go through Sector Ten and into Sector Six. He had felt the tremor of the Passive Tyrant’s stray fist landing only a hundred miles from his city.
Too close. Even the enchantments he’d spent billions on wouldn’t have blocked that.
But the fight should have been over… all rumors said that the Chieftain Tyrant had stopped the two from fighting.
Then why was his skill [Ill Omens] beating louder at every moment?
Sector Thirteen had settled meaning the monsters had all given up. The most dangerous threats were in Sector Eleven and Twelve and all information indicated that roaming spirits didn’t enjoy crossing over into the lower Sectors.
[Ill Omens] kept beating. It was a low hum that was getting deeper and deeper.
An omen of death.
Colost felt it before he saw it.
Warped emotions, warped mana, warped qi, warped aura, and overwhelming power.
A creature was dragging itself towards his city.
The face of the Witch Tyrant. Disjointed limbs, one rougher, another more elegant and gloved.
It saw him before he saw it. It said something that Colost couldn’t hear. It looked furious and mournful and Colost—
Ran.
Into his city’s System Portal. Taking away thirty percent of the daily portal allocation for himself. Something that could have been used to save hundreds of Realmers.
You couldn’t blame him.
Dragonslayer Colost was a deeply rational, intelligent man.
He could always rebuild a city, he couldn’t gain another life.
——
The alarms went off. The screams began, the enchantments flared, and code red was raised.
No dragonslayer could be called here because the allocation had just been used.
Adventurers stood at the walls all looking at the horrifying thing that was just dragging itself forward.
A few brave stupid ones tried to attack it from afar, hoping it was just a simple horror from Sector Thirteen.
It did nothing but annoy the creature.
The [Shapeshifter] waved its hand to block the projectiles. Only it was the Passive Tyrant’s hand.
The enchantments on the city broke, a tenth of the city and three random teams of ninth realm adventurers were completely wiped out. The [Aberrant Shapeshifter] looked at the destruction then at its hand. Like it was surprised that it had so much power.
It looked guilty for a moment, but overwhelming loss quickly overwrote it. It kept walking through.
Code black was raised.
Though it did nothing in this case. The city allocation was already all taken up by some of the children that were evacuated first. It meant that all the parents and the remaining kids had to flee from the portal and reach the bunkers, then pray.
Pray that the monster did not care for them.
There were no heroic adventurers coming through, no dragonslayer around them willing to face it.
The [Aberrant Shapeshifter] kept limping through.
It walked through an empty city and reached the center, where the interrealm System portal lay.
Pinkie has been blacklisted from all available portals.
That was fine, it had plenty of other identities. It scrolled through…
Adventurer Jasven has been blacklisted from all available portals.
Realmer Park has been blacklisted from all available portals.
Adventurer Edwards has been blacklisted from all available portals.
…
The list continued for dozens of her identities, and there was only one person that knew all of her identities.
Ella.
Betrayed at her lowest.
Typical Ella. She must have seen it all coming.
It brought… a sense fondness from… her. Which was odd. It was the first real coherent thought the [Aberrant Shapeshifter] had brought to bear. Something that hadn’t been immediately drowned out in an endless tide of broken grief and memories.
Scales started to ripple across her body as Pinkie remembered more of herself.
Then she came to the last name on the list. A name she had buried long before meeting the Secretary. The identity that only the Witch Tyrant knew of.
It only confirmed that Ella had done this.
Anger? Frustration? Loss? Desire?
The emotions she felt there were weaker but less broken, it felt… more real to her. Anything to make the pain go away.
Originally, Pinkie had planned on trying to find her daughter Fallen Gamielle just to see her face again, but now…
Dania Al-Malki has access to these portals…
Current portal capacity 0%
Your estimated portal allocation requirement 33%.
Destination Revers Rest (Sector Five).
Reserve allocation? This will take up 33% capacity on both sides, Y/N
The [Aberrant Shapeshifter] sat by the portal, simply watching the pretty lights, not paying attention to the ants that cowered in the bunkers. Just…
Trying to figure out if it wanted to be itself.
The [Aberrant Shapeshifter] pressed No on the System screen and then used the skill reserved for Destined.
[Return To Earth]
[Remembrance of the Fallen] had been used to curse her, but it still needed the Trial System to stabilize the Legend. Nothing less could have managed to break her so quickly.
Without it… maybe she would be free of all of the pain and suffering.
Destineds, the wildcards of the Trial System. The bringers of chaos.
Pinkie was returning to San Kingsgrove.
Then maybe find Ella and eat her.
//////////////////////////
Not sure about the tonal shift here. Think I’ve gone a little overboard on the frequencies of split storylines here. Should stop once they collide.