The Geneva Convention has expanded its protocols for healing classes. Active duty field agents in teams are considered combatants while those in the background have been reclassified as medical personnel.
*The expanded protocols did nothing to deter the Witch Tyrant from continuing her hunt.
Now entering the Manager's abode.
Unlike the first time Ryan did not collapse on his chair. Instead he stood up, throwing his chair backwards and slammed on the Manager's desk with both hands.
"You sent me into a deathtrap!"
The Manager looked unimpressed, though its lips did twitch a little. The entity let the silence hold for a second longer, as if to indicate that it was above such outbursts.
"If I had placed you in a deathtrap and you had managed to survive, you would have a Legendary Title. Do you have one?"
Ryan blinked, he checked his notifications and found no title waiting for him. That was fairly normal, even an S grade achievement wasn't worth a title anymore. The Manager did have a point, if it wanted him dead, he'd probably be dead. It didn't quite make him any less frustrated.
"So what was that? Another accident?"
He had nearly died in that First Trial, a Trial that he should've been able to breeze through. The Manager simply leaned back, it had been ready for this.
"No, an agreement, with your Tyrants."
And there was the answer. Well shit, there wasn't much he could do about that. His mind did try to make sense of it all.
"You made an agreement with the Tyrants to… mess with soldiers from Earth?"
"Now that would be telling wouldn't it?"
The Manager tapped its nose and gave him a smile. Ryan responded with a long frustrated sigh. He was such an idiot, of course all the odd behavior from the Manager was a ploy. He was just the tool used to damage the soldiers before they even became a realm 1 adventurer.
"Well then I do believe I promised a reward," the Manager took out a letter with a wax seal with a simple single M in the middle, he held it out in between two fingers, "a quest, deliverable to any Guild receptionist in The Realm."
Realm Quest Obtained!
Objective:
Deliver a letter from the Manager to any head receptionist of the Adventurer's Guild in under a week.
Note: Depending on how this is completed, your realm achievement score may be vastly affected.
He almost, almost reached out for the letter, a quest from the Manager. People would actually kill for something like this. It was something straight out of a story, get sent on a quest and gain a unique advantage over everyone else.
It often came with a bunch of difficult and dangerous encounters.
Ryan with no safety life leaned back and crossed his arms.
"Hell no."
"A shame."
The Manager returned the letter back into his inner pocket. Ryan almost regretted his decision, that was until a notification popped up in his head. An honest to god Title notification.
Title: Rebellious obtained!
Title: Rebellious (Epic)
You fight against the establishment where you go, within the first day of becoming a Trialist, you have defied the workings of the most powerful government of Earth, slaughtered a Lord in his domain and declined an offer from the greatest known power of two worlds.
Greatly increases your resistance to mental effects and auras in The Realm. 100%-300% depending on various circumstances like realm disparity, skill rarity and your current state of mind.
A fucking Epic title? Wait, the most powerful government on Earth?
That wasn't good news, as far as he knew, America was still the most powerful government on Earth. He had fucked over soldiers from his own country. Great.
He turned the notification off. The Manager's smile held no secrets, almost as if it had predicted all of this to happen. He wondered if this was its method of giving him a reward. The Manager was supposed to be fair after all.
"Now then shall we get to business? You have adjacent classes waiting for you."
The Manager spread its arms before he could respond, two orbs appeared in front. Ryan, in his anger, had forgotten a key fact.
You were only invited to the Manager's abode when the Trial System wanted to offer you a class. It normally happened after the First, Fifth and Tenth Trials. Even then, people that focused on combat didn't tend to have classes waiting for them after the First Trial. He didn't quite think he did anything that was non combative at all.
There was one crimson and one golden orb. The golden orb caught his eye first.
Tactician (Uncommon)
You use your mind to outplay your opponents. Tactics and strategies are your game of choice for victory. Gains bonuses towards aura and skills that impact multiple people.
A standard shit class, he wasn't taking this one. Even amongst non combative classes it was considered a horrible class with terrible upgrades. There was some theorizing that the multiplicative effects on an army could be applied to an army of adventurers, but really, who had an army of adventurers? He moved on.
The crimson orb floated like a taint in the world. He now had a distinct aversion to demonic classes but the figure in the middle caught his eye.
Saboteur (Rare)
You burned, outmanoeuvred, tricked and played with them all. It didn't matter if they were in your way or not, they all turned to ash in the end. Gains passive bonuses to explosions, fires and demolitions caused by you. Gains minor bonuses to all skills related to heat and destruction.
Well, the description was a little rude. The villagers weren't really his fault and the Skeleton Lord deserved everything it got. Okay, he didn't really have an excuse for the drake. He didn't actually have to kill him. Actually... Ryan decided the drake deserved it too.
The quality of the class though. A goddamn Rare class before the fifth realm upgrade. The crystal showed a man in a hood, overlooking a city on fire. The Rare tag made him far, far too curious.
He'd heard of the class before but didn't remember the details. As far as he knew, nobody had taken it before.
What would it be like to be a [Saboteur]?
–
A great city was ablaze before the hooded figure on top of a hill. The continuous and periodic explosions made a mess out of the very people that were trying to give aid. It did not do this out of desire to watch people die, but to burn it all down so that something new could rise from the ashes. It hoped it would be a better one.
It?
The scene was disjointed to Ryan. He didn't feel like he was the [Saboteur] himself, but rather that he had just hitched a ride and was watching a scene from a monitor. Something tickled at his mind. A voice.
Ah, don't say anything.
Ryan could hear the [Saboteur] think. He considered trying to say something back but thought better of it.
A platoon of powered soldiers ran out of the gates and charged at the [Saboteur]. They were screaming for his head. Vengeance and justice burning in their eyes. What had the [Saboteur] done?
Unimportant, what's important is that you're being played. Focus on the Manager instead, oh and don't take the class, it doesn't suit you.
The [Saboteur] had five different scenarios going through its mind. Not a single one was focused on the legion that was running at him.
[Parallel Processing]
One thread of thought latched onto Ryan and guided him towards four different 'screens'. Three different threads were helping him look at the different angles he was in. The differing perspectives revealed the ploy that he had missed.
The Manager was still playing a game with him. It didn't stop at the soldiers. The actions were too off, too uncaring compared to the other excerpts. If the Manager really wanted to deal with the soldiers he could have just told Ryan to inform the Tyrants. There wasn't a need for everything that had happened to him. The [Saboteur] believed the title was evidence as well.
Then why? Ryan tried to send the thought back, it felt clumsy compared to the [Saboteur]'s clean and clear thoughts.
There's too much we don't know, the Manager never specified what the agreement was. Pay attention, be suspicious, always be suspicious. It's clearly not the impartial entity we thought it was.
Ryan tried to think ahead, trying to figure out the Manager's angle and what was going on.
…No, you're not going to outsmart him. Even all of this, myself especially, might be part of its plan. You just have to accept that. The smartest call would be to find somewhere where you can stop playing its game.
He was dejected at the [Saboteur]'s plan, in one eye he saw the legion start to speed up as they activated their skills. There was a flicker of amusement from the [Saboteur].
Well there is one way to figure out if I'm part of its plot.
The hooded figure looked up at the sky and grinned, this was who the [Saboteur] was, a ruiner of plans and plots, a destroyer of order. It spread its arms as he looked beyond the fake sky, as if it could see the entity that looked down on him.
"[A Ruinous Thought-"
–
Ryan was kicked out of the orb, the [Saboteur] hadn't even finished his skill. The Manager wasn't smiling, it waved its hands as the orbs moved away.
"I presume you aren't taking any of the classes."
"No."
"Understandable."
The orbs disappeared when Ryan had answered. He wondered what would have happened if he hadn't said an answer and tried to dive for the orb instead. The Manager simply observed him as Ryan tried to think ahead.
His mind was clear. He felt no weakness, no sudden loss. He hadn't melded with the class at all.
The [Rebellious Rogue] met the Manager's gaze and understood that he was still in a trap.
"What do you want from me?"
The Manager scrunched its nose. "The [Saboteur] always is a nasty one, that class along with your new title seems to have produced an unintended effect. Apologies."
"You haven't answered my question."
The Manager wanted something from him and he would rather be told directly than play along with whatever it was doing.
It seemed to read his mind. The pattern of galaxies and starlight stopped moving on its body as the entity sat still. It froze in space, there was no breathing, no other visual ticks a normal human would have when they sat still. It simply opened its mouth like a robotic doll and started speaking in a monotone voice.
"Would you like to know how many iterations the Trial System has gone through? Would you like to know the fate of most of those worlds?"
A chill went through his spine and goosebumps rippled across his arm. This must have been the real form of the Manager. It really had just been a creature playing games with the humans of Earth. Ryan tried not to be afraid.
Then decided to double down instead.
"What do you want from me? Answer now or I leave."
"There are no exits here [Rogue]."
The room was inky black as it gave no openings.
Ryan bared his teeth and activated the skill that all Destineds received. [Return To Earth]. A whir began as the timer started. This was the idea that the [Saboteur] had come up with. A realization to force the Manager's hand. One where he knew he was risking his life to use it. He had to mean it too, the Manager was too smart to know if he was just bluffing.
Truly [A Ruinous Thought].
[Return To Earth] initiated.
As this is your first time using [Return To Earth], please note that the sound will attract monsters. You may not move more than two feet from your current position and will return to this location should you return to The Realm. Please ensure that you are exiting from a safe place.
The Manager blinked, then it started acting like a living creature again. It looked away, embarrassed. The entity put its hands up in a gesture of peace and took out the letter from its coat jacket.
"A simple delivery."
Ryan canceled the skill and received the same quest notification as before.
"Get someone else to deliver it. I'm not playing your game."
"This is no game, Ryan Robinson." The Manager's voice was gentle now, assuring even. "The Realm is going to face disaster, and it will swallow Earth with it. Delivering this letter will give both your worlds the greatest chance at facing it."
The Manager smiled at him. Gone was the unfeeling robotic entity, now it gave a genuine pleading look, a voice that sounded almost like it was begging for him to take the letter.
"You are being called, adventurer."
He stiffened at the words, it was such a silly, cheesy sentence. A phrase popularized and overused in movies and tv shows, something a parent would read out of a children's book. Something someone at the age of twenty-two would cringe at.
The words him like a truck. The Manager had to know it would.
The smartest call would be to find somewhere where you can stop playing its game.
"I do not and have not lied in my tenure on Earth. You know this. I don't intend to start with you. You may deliver this any way you want. It just must be delivered."
It was like the Manager could read his mind. Ryan narrowed his eyes then snatched the letter and ripped it open.
On the paper was a single sentence, the words sent a shiver down his spine. He looked up.
"You could get someone else to send this."
"I could, but I won't. My word on it. I also swear that I won't inform anyone else in any way shape or form about your involvement in this quest. The way you handle this delivery is completely up to you."
The bastard was using the fact that he didn't lie as a weapon. The Manager waved his hand and the paper folded itself and went back into the envelope as the seal reformed.
Realm Quest Obtained!
Objective:
Deliver the message from the Manager to a head receptionist of the Adventurer's Guild in under a week.
Optional objective:
Deliver the letter without being identified.
Note: Depending on how this is completed, your realm achievement score may be vastly affected.
Ryan sat down and began thinking, this was a lot more reasonable of a request. The letter had a message far above what he should or could be involved in.
"What kind of disaster will The Realm face?"
"Does it matter? Do you intend to face it?"
"I might have tried to become strong, if I still had my damned safety life."
The Manager chuckled and shook its head.
"For most, a spare life helps them push forwards, gives them encouragement. For you, it would have held you back."
The two sat in silence as Ryan glared at the letter on the table. There were ways to deliver a letter without being seen. It should be possible. He just refused to believe it would be that easy.
He turned his glare to the Manager.
"Is the letter trapped in any way? Magical or otherwise?"
"Ah."
The Manager reached out and took the letter from the table and put it back in his pocket. Then he produced another letter.
"This one I promise is a completely mundane letter."
Ryan narrowed his eyes at the letter as he took it. An exit to the safe room appeared behind the Manager as the entity stood up. Clearly keen on hurrying Ryan out of the room.
"Hold it, give me time to think. Or I won't deliver the letter. I swear on that."
The entity sat back down. Ryan wasn't going to be pushed or tricked again. He sat down and stared at the letter. He wished he had [Parallel Processing].
Ryan ripped open the letter and read it. It had the same sentence as the previous letter except it had the writing "Delivered by Ryan Robinson." at the bottom.
"You're a real dick you know that right?"
"Oh, you have no idea."
This time the entity truly laughed at itself. It acted like Ryan had somehow put it in a corner and figured out everything. The only problem was that he was pretty sure he hadn't. The Manager waved its hand.
"Fine, fine, you win, here's a truly mundane letter, no tricks, just that original sentence and nothing else. But you know, you would give both of your worlds the greatest chance of averting disaster if the Tyrants took an interest in you."
"I'm good, thanks."
Ryan snatched the letter, he opened it, read the letter and stuffed it in a pocket. Then he stormed out of the room. At least now he could finally see what his reward for getting an S achievement rating would be.
–
The Manager sat in silence in his abode. Its home, its prison, and the only place it had ever existed. It sighed.
Sighing? A mortal failing.
It maintained the accelerated time long after the [Rogue] left. For all intents and purposes, time elsewhere might as well have stopped. It replayed the moment on Earth that had caused the disaster.
Ryan was working behind the counter while scrolling through his phone as an advertisement popped up.
"Do you want unmatched power? Unending wealth? Eternal life? It might be yours this weekend with the CaliLottery. The CaliLottery has obtained two sponsorships to The Realm for the lucky winners. Choose your adventure today."
An advertisement, a stupid mortal mess of an algorithm had popped up at the worst time possible. It caused what the mortals might call a butterfly effect until every moment was changed–just enough for the wrong person to have been shot. It contemplated causing a chain of unfortunate events just for the person that headed the lottery, then it threw the idea away.
The Manager had accelerated the flow of time three times after that moment to understand what would happen. Everything had shifted. Like a mad butterfly flapping its wings and plopping itself into someone's drink.
It had ruined everything.
The Manager had to trick the System into removing Ryan's free life and mislead him into believing his [Return To Earth] skill would malfunction.
It hadn't lied.
It wasn't the Manager's fault the boy had misinterpreted its words. The Manager took out the crimson orb and looked at the [Saboteur] that was grinning up above. At it. The [Saboteur] spread his arms wide as the city burned down entirely. That wasn't supposed to happen, the [Saboteur] raised two middle fingers to the sky, at the Manager. It had timed it perfectly.
The worst part? The Manager had no idea what it had told Ryan.
A delicate balance seeking perfection from infinity collapsed in front of the Manager.
Again.
It sighed. At this point, trying to infer the future was more of a morbid curiosity. It still tried anyway, the interaction with the [Rogue] after his stint with the [Saboteur] gave it just enough to extrapolate.
The walls of the room changed until the Manager was sitting in the hospital Ryan's Earth body was in. It then changed the room until it displayed the scene in The Realm. The First Sector, the people waiting and beyond.
With its asymptotically infinite amount of accelerated time, it looked at every single place in all of Earth and The Realm. The Manager paused at a Tyrant whose aura and passive skills were reacting reflexively at its observation, despite the time differential.
More changes.
The Manager needed to be a little more cautious. Some of the beings in The Realm had begun to reach levels where they could detect even its observations. It distinctly avoided the areas where it knew the strong were and started making an analysis.
Every single possibility and likely choice was noted until the most probable paths were found. What someone was likely to drink, who they were going to meet and what they would say. Millions and billions of actions branching into infinity to find the most likely scenarios.
Madness, even for the greatest of gods.
Not for the Manager. For it knew nothing else.
As it noted down the changes, something happened. A mutation in the previous probabilities.
More options bloomed in front of him.
One, then two, then three, then more. At any other time it would have been a cause for celebration. Not anymore. Despite the increases in possible options, the overall odds of success were declining-fast. It started to chart Ryan's path as it interconnected with everyone, a spinning web, a fractalling glass of the future.
Then it sighed again.
Absolute and utter chaos. The Manager had truly and completely lost all control.
"All because of a godsdamned advertisement."
878 iterations of the Trial System, 94 true attempts. All failures.
It never lied, the vast majority of worlds did end up burning down. It eyed the [Saboteur], still keeping his fingers pointed up at it, Ryan's face grinning wildly up as the hood flapped behind him. It sighed once more.
Maybe it should've tried being nicer.