Victor of Tucson

“Victor, please.” Valla gently tugged on his wrist, urging him to sit back down. “Give the man a moment to gather himself.”

Victor glowered, and when Valla’s eyebrows drew together, mimicking his expression of irritation, it felt like someone had splashed cold water on him. He looked inward, at his roiling rage Core, at the heat in his pathways, and he sighed, succumbing to her pull and sitting back down. Not trusting himself to speak, he folded his arms and made a point of not staring at Erd Van, who still knelt before the couch.

Maybe to change the subject or ease the tension, Lam spoke up, “Erd, or is it always Erd Van?”

The man sat up straight, smoothing his long, pink hair back. “You may call me Erd at your pleasure, Lady.”

Lam smiled and leaned against the couch arm, shifting to cross her legs more easily. “Can you tell me what you mean by ‘test of steel?’ I’ve never traveled to Sojourn before.”

“Ah.” Erd lithely stood, glancing at Victor as he did so, then almost eagerly looking back toward Lam. “The term originated here on Sojourn. Our founders had a flowery way of speaking and a poetic way of looking at things.” When Lam’s face didn’t betray any understanding, and Victor and Valla remained silent, he continued, “It’s all based around the idea that we’re ‘forging’ our Class during the iron ranks. You know, until the synthesis at level one hundred.”

Lam frowned, looking over at Victor and Valla with an arched eyebrow. “Forgive me,” Valla said, stealing Erd’s attention. “The people in my world rarely ascend beyond level fifty. Those who do are secretive. Would you mind explaining this synthesis?” It wasn’t lost on Victor that both women had phrased their questions saying “I” rather than “we.” Were they worried his Quinametzin pride was still bristling?

“Oh, of course, of course! On System-controlled worlds, just as most races receive a Class refinement every ten levels, at level one hundred, the System will guide you through a process in which you build a Class based on the aspects of your previous Classes that you’ve most fully mastered.”

“We’ll create our own Class?”

“Yes, which leads to the test of steel, thanks to our founders' creative sensibilities. You see, most people, when they first build their Class, end up with something at the ‘base’ level. In the ranks that follow, a person must sharpen and hone their ‘steel’ until it reaches a level of ascendancy, whereupon they can move into their lustrous veil, something I’m far less knowledgeable about. You see, for every one hundred iron rankers, there’s likely to be only a single person working on their test of steel, and for every thousand of those, there might be one person in their lustrous veil. At least that’s the old adage here on Sojourn. I’m sure the numbers differ from world to world. For instance, according to you, there may not be many outside the iron ranks in your homeworld.”

“Or Zaafor,” Victor said, looking at Valla.

She nodded. “Perhaps only the Warlord and his closest supporters.”

Lam cleared her throat. “So, do I have it right in my understanding that the test of steel is not the same for everyone?”

“Yes!” Erd nodded enthusiastically. “Some people begin their test by creating a more advanced Class, so their journey is shorter. Some jump multiple tiers at their first refinement, while others struggle to move out of the base tier. Everyone’s journey is different.”

“So you can’t just grind it out?” Victor asked, and when Erd’s frown signaled puzzlement, he elaborated. “I mean, you can’t just keep gaining levels, eventually moving into the next stage?”

“Ah, correct, sir. There are many in the test of steel who have reached a level beyond which they struggle to grow, and their Class is still in the lower tiers. They are collectively known as steelbound.”

“Still more powerful than anyone we likely know,” Lam said, shaking her head, grinning at the absurdity of it all.

“Oh, there are steelbound who can shift the tides of culture, who rule planets and systems, who . . .” he trailed off, glancing nervously at Victor. “Perhaps I could acquaint you with my mentor? He has passed through his test of steel, and though he disappears for decades at a time working toward his mysterious goals, he’s currently in the city—he also spends years and decades in recreation, you see. It may be that your timing is just right, for I’ve scheduled a consultation with him next week. For a small fee, I’d be willing to spend part of my precious, allocated time with my mentor, asking about your friend’s situation. He’s the only person I know who can guide me as I approach my seventh Class refinement, and I’m sure he’d have some insights.” He nodded at Edeya.

“Couldn’t we make an appointment of our own?” Lam asked, uncannily guessing the exact question Victor was about to voice.

“Yes, absolutely. You’ll find his waiting list for consultations is something like three years out.”

Victor groaned. “Seriously? Do you think he’ll even help?”

“I think he’ll be intrigued. I think he may . . . want to meet you, sir.” He paused while he spoke as though weighing his choice of words.

“Why?” Victor had to fight hard to suppress the urge to snarl the word.

“Your spirit Core, sir, is uncannily potent for an iron ranker, let alone one closer to the middle than the top.” His eyes widened with horror at his words, and he hastily scrambled to add, “Forgive me! I saw much before you veiled off your Core! I don’t mean to. You see, um, seeing into people is second nature to me. I have a legendary Class called Soul Diviner, which grew out of my original Scryer Class. When I look at an unshielded person, it’s actually quite difficult for me not to see things like that.”

“Forget it,” Victor waved his hand. He was smart enough to notice how he’d felt almost appeased by the idea that this guy’s “master” might find his Core interesting. Impressing people was what his Quinametzin alter-ego lived for.

“Even if he’s interested in Victor, how does that help us? You said his next appointment is in three years,” Lam asked, lifting Edeya’s hand, their fingers interlocked. “She’s not going to make it three years.”

“No, no,” Erd waved placatingly, “that’s how long it would take to schedule an appointment with him without a sponsor to make him aware of you. You see, he doesn’t make many appointments. If he finds something interesting, believe me, he’ll make time for it.”

“All right. Do it. What kind of fee are we talking about?” Victor looked into his storage ring, the one where he kept most of his easily traded wealth—gems, precious metals, Energy beads, and the like.

“Well, you’ll find that, in Sojourn, favors are usually paid for with favors.”

Victor felt his Core begin to bleed rage into his pathways, and he fought against it, buckling down with his will, forcing it back, concentrating on maintaining a neutral expression. He wasn’t a bully, and he wouldn’t let his bloodline make one of him, not without a fight. “I’m listening.” He didn’t look at Valla, but Lam’s expression was surprised enough for both of them. She arched both her eyebrows and shook her head slightly, grinning crookedly.

“Well, sir, as you can no doubt discern by the deference I give you, not all iron rankers are built the same. I’m skilled with auguries, counseling, and guidance. I make good money helping people to overcome mental trauma, and, in so doing, I continue to improve those aspects of myself that make such things come easily. As you might guess, such a peaceful existence, while pleasant and comfortable, especially here in Sojourn, doesn’t afford me many opportunities for the true breakthroughs that will eventually allow me to surpass these iron ranks and then find success in my test of steel.”

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“And we can help you somehow?”

“Just so! I require an artifact, something that will allow me to impress my mentor significantly. If I can do that, he’ll aid me with my particular affinity. However, the item I see is well out of my reach at the moment.”

“But not out of ours?” Lam narrowed her eyes quizzically.

“I would think not. I have the location of the world on which this artifact is purported to . . .”

“What a fucking minute.” Victor held up a hand. “You want us to travel to another world?”

“Oh, well, yes. I'd not need your aid if it were an item available on Sojourn. I will pay your fare and, if things go well, you shouldn’t be gone more than a few days . . .”

“Sir, would you mind if we stepped outside to discuss your proposal?” Valla asked.

“Let’s hear the whole thing first,” Lam said. “What will it take to get this ‘artifact’ of yours?”

“What I require lies at the bottom of an insect hive. The insects are called ivid. Are you familiar?”

“Ivid? No.” Victor shook his head.

“They’re large—person-sized, though more like me than you, sir. They aren’t intelligent, per se, not individually, but, as a hive, they function with a single mind, one that is formidable.”

Victor groaned. “Do they fly? Do they sting? Like, what are we talking about here, man? Ants, bees?”

“I will provide you with a dossier on the creatures. I believe they all have six legs, though there are different castes—some are simple workers, others are tasked with warfare. As I said, they aren’t intelligent enough for Classes or sophisticated Energy manipulation, but they have instinctual abilities that can prove quite dangerous. What I require will be in the lair of the hive matriarch.”

“The queen?” Victor shook his head, liking this idea less and less.

“They reproduce by laying eggs, you see, and every so often, one of their eggs will not hatch. Rather, it will enter a kind of permanent gestation. The unborn ivid in the egg becomes a being of nearly pure spirit, growing connections through the Spirit Plane to other realms of existence. I must acquire one of those spirit eggs in order to present it to my mentor. With it, he can enter into a ritual communion with the spirit egg and, over the course of years or decades, learn from it.”

“How big is it?” Victor couldn’t imagine they’d be able to put the thing into a dimensional container.

At the same time, Valla asked, “Surely you could hire someone better at thievery than we three? Someone who can hide and even teleport?”

“Ah! Astute questions! The egg won’t be large, perhaps about like so.” He held his hands apart from each other, miming an object about the size of a football. “As for more qualified adventurers, I’m afraid you’d be quite mistaken. Remember, together, the ivid hive creates a formidable mind—a mind which actively defends their realm from invasion—portal or teleportation magic will not work to pierce their strange, dimensional space.”

“The hive is a dimensional container?”

“Of a sort, aye. It’s almost like a natural dungeon, not unlike the System-controlled ones. I won’t lie to you; I’ve needed a relic like this spirit egg for a long time and sent quite a few intrepid iron rankers after it, never to be seen again. In the years since the last excursion, I’ve had a rather talented alchemist develop a concoction that may help. It’s a perfume of sorts that you can spray to mask your presence in the hive. I sponsored a test by the alchemist in question, and he returned with promising results.”

Victor’s frown deepened. “How promising?”

“Well, it seems to do a good job of preventing a hive-wide alarm due to an invader’s presence, but some of the more alert ivid will still attack if they encounter the invader, um, you.”

Victor abruptly stood. “We’ll discuss this outside.”

“No need; I don’t mind stepping away. I hate for you to have to stand around on the street . . .”

“It’s fine. Edeya could use the air.” Lam, too, stood, pulling Edeya toward the door. That only left Valla, and she was quick to follow Lam out.

Before he pulled the door closed, Victor briefly locked eyes with Erd. “We’ll be back in soon.”

“Well?” Lam asked as he turned toward her. It wasn’t chilly, exactly, but it wasn’t warm now that the sun had slipped below the horizon. Victor never really felt cold anymore, but he worried about Edeya, so he stepped closer to her, putting one of his warm arms over her shoulders and pulling her against his side.

“Well, I think we’ve got a decision to make. Go on this guy’s quest, which sounds nuts, by the way, in the hope that his ‘master’ might want to meet with us about Edeya’s problem. Or . . .”

Valla interrupted, smiling as she tried to guess what he’d say, “Or we can waste time trying to find another demigod to listen to our tale?”

“Demigod?” Lam frowned.

“Victor calls those up there,” Valla pointed to the glimmering rainbow lights of the city heights, “such. He says it’s like a person who’s part god.”

Lam nodded. “Whatever it means, it’s an apt term if what that man said is true. One in a hundred iron rankers reach their ‘test of steel,’ and only one in a thousand of those makes it to the next stage? How many might be experts on the spirit like this man’s master?”

Victor thought about the math, his enhanced intelligence making it a lot easier than he would have found it in the old days. He probably could have used a proper equation, but he just brute forced the division and multiplication a couple of times and said, “I guess if there are, I dunno, ten million people in Sojourn, that means there’s only something like a hundred who’ve gotten out of their test of steel. If this guy has an in with one of them, maybe we should consider his offer.” He pulled Edeya’s frail, still form closer to his side and added, “I mean, I should. We won’t all go.”

“Now, Victor . . .” Lam started to say.

“I’m going with you!” Valla growled, grabbing the strap for Lifedrinker’s harness that crossed his chest, pulling him close. “You will not leave me here!”

“Okay.” She glared at him, and he said, more forcefully, “Fine! I was thinking I’d go with Lesh, but he could stay here with Darren and Lam.”

“And Edeya.” Lam nodded. “I wasn’t going to argue that I should go along; I won’t leave her. I just didn’t want you to go alone. You should take Lesh, too. I can keep track of Darren.”

Victor shrugged. He wouldn’t mind taking Lesh, that was for sure, and he supposed Lam was right; Darren would be all right without Lesh to hold his hand for a few days. “Right. Let’s give Erd the good news and get the details.”

#

Y-seven bobbed and floated around Darren, the wisps of his strange, incorporeal form brushing his shoulders occasionally. The tendrils felt chilly and tickled the hairs at the nape of his neck, almost like someone was gently blowing on them. “Describe what you see when you look inward, Darren.” They’d been practicing something Darren had already sort of learned from friends back in First Landing. He’d contemplated trying to build a Core, trying to do the little quests and introductions to Energy the System had offered them all, but something had rankled in him, some stubborn desire to show the new world that they had what it took to succeed and flourish without the tricks. Looking back, he could see how shrill and tiresome his objections had become, and he felt ashamed.

“I see a black space, but not like a void. I feel like the black is bordered by something, like . . . it has structure. It’s sort of warm. Even though I can’t feel it, that’s the impression I get. I can see a soft golden misty ball at the center of the space, though its borders are undefined; it’s not a perfect sphere.”

“Verry good, Darren! Your inward eye is seeing clearly. You should be pleased; on occasion, I’ve spent days trying to guide novices through this process.” Y-seven moved away from him, lowering toward the floor so he floated at Darren’s eye level. “That was wonderfully quick and leaves us time to study your affinities. Would you like to learn what types of Energies you have a proclivity for? Knowing that will help us determine what sort of Core you should attempt to form.”

“Yes! I would appreciate that, Y-seven.”

“Very good. There are many methods to achieve what I just described, but I have a means that always seems to work well with candidates who can clearly see their nascent Core. That’s the ball of misty golden energy you can see with your inner eye.”

Darren nodded. “I’ve had colleagues tell me as much back home.”

“Excellent. My method is simple for you. You must keep your inner eye open, staring at that Core and telling me what you see. I will be conjuring different types of Energy into this space; your nascent Core will react to some of them, most strongly with those you have an affinity for. Does that make sense?”

“Yes. What sorts of things will I see?”

“Mostly colors or movement. Just describe any change you see; I’ll do the interpreting. Are you ready, Darren? Close your eyes and tell me when you have a clear view of your Core space.”

Darren did as he asked—he’d taken to thinking of Y-seven as “he” simply because of his voice—closing his eyes, peering into the blackness of his eyelids, and then shifting his view to that place that didn’t used to exist when he’d lived back on Earth. Suddenly, he was looking in at that soft, glowing ball of formless Energy, feeling very much like he was there with it in a dark, warm chamber. “I see it.”

“Good. I will begin in a few moments but won’t speak again until we’re done. Do not stop viewing your Core space until I say we’ve finished. Understood?”

“Understood.” True to his word, Y-seven didn’t speak, and the silence became heavy. Darren allowed his bodiless consciousness to drift around in the space where he could see his “nascent” Core, watching the very gently pulsing golden cloud, waiting for something to happen. After a while, when he began to fear he wouldn’t see anything, some wisps of that cloudy, golden stuff began to flicker and lift upward like a draft was passing over them. Their golden tendrils darkened to red-gold, then to bright crimson, dancing atop the cloud like flickering flames. “Ah!” he gasped, excited. “My Energy looks like red flames! Part of it, anyway!”

Y-seven didn’t respond, but the red tendrils began to fade, shifting back to gold and falling back into the cloud. Darren continued to watch until another change occurred. “The whole cloud of Energy just turned green!” Again, Y-seven didn’t respond, but the change reverted, and soon, Darren was looking at the formless golden cloud again. After a while, that cloud began to shimmer and shift, remaining golden but moving almost like a whirlpool. He described the change, then the next, and the next, and soon he realized he might be there a while; apparently, Y-Seven was going to be quite exhaustive in his search for Darren’s affinities.

He settled in, suddenly feeling impossibly fortunate. How big a boon was it to have an expert helping him with this process? How much could the people of First Landing benefit from something like this? A slow smile spread on Darren’s face as he continued to watch his Core. He aimed to learn and intuit as much as he could. If nothing else, he’d have this to bring home. It might not elevate him to greatness among his people, but it was a hell of a lot better legacy than being the laughingstock who’d tried to fight a titan with some steel tanks.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!