Yellow Jacket

Imujin stepped around the table while the command room churned with the uneven restlessness of people preparing themselves for war. The air was warm from too many bodies being in a confined area, the shuffle of boots and the murmur of low conversations filling the space. Tight with the shared pressure of people rushing to advance before a siege. Imujin took in the cramped room, the stacked crates, the group clustering around the map table, and lifted a brow.

"So, do you want to do this in here?" he asked, his tone caught somewhere between curiosity and warning.

Vaeliyan shook his head. "Probably not. I still do not think the world is ready to see Warren in public yet. Nor do I think I am ready to be seen by the world."

Imujin nodded slowly. "That is a good call for now. It would compromise more than we would gain." He tapped the table once, thinking through their options, and his eyes flicked toward the courtyard and Vaeliyan’s Estate.

Before either of them could speak again, Dr. Wirk pushed through the doorway with a stack of tablets under his arm and a grin so wide several workers stepped away as if bracing for impact. "Ah, you are back. Good. Excellent. Did you all make it to fifty? Tell me you made it to fifty."

Vaeliyan nodded for the group. "Yes. Those of us who are going to be fighting in the siege anyways."

"Wonderful, wonderful." Dr. Wirk dumped the tablets onto the nearest desk and adjusted his glasses in a jittery, excited motion. "I assume you all still have your skill synthesis points. I would be very pleased to help you all with those. I am quite eager, actually. Eager might be an understatement. I want to see what new skills you create with them."

Vaeliyan lifted a hand. "So, what exactly is it? I mean, yes, I received it, and yes, it awarded me one, but the System tells me almost nothing about what it does. It is... vague. Unhelpfully so. Like way more unhelpful than usual."

"A skill synthesis point," Dr. Wirk said, tapping his fingers together rapidly, "allows you to take two of your skills and merge them into something unique to you. Even if two people use the same pair of skills, the result is entirely different. I have never seen a synthesis result that was not powerful in some way, though some are less combat oriented than others." He paused, then pointed sharply at Isol. "That does not mean skills like Isol’s Internal Library are anything less than devastating. Terrifying, even."

Vaeliyan turned. "Isol, what does that skill actually do?"

Isol cleared his throat. "Basically, it allows me to copy any book I have read or written. I can always have it on hand. It never leaves me."

Vaeliyan blinked. "That is extremely useful, but also... incredibly niche?"

"Watch this." Isol placed his palm on the table. Metal rippled up from nothing, folding over itself until a thick book formed out of pure silver, every page stamped in shining script that caught the light like water. "It does not have to be paper. Do you understand what this is? This book was written on pure silver when I read it. I can reproduce it completely, down to the last word, the last scrape of the stylus."

Vaeliyan leaned forward, mildly impressed. "That’s cool. But it still sounds like a very niche skill. Useful, sure, but I don’t see how it’s all that powerful."

"Vaeliyan." Isol let the silver book fall into nothing. His hand pressed down again, the surface rippled like disturbed liquid, and this time a sword rose from the table. "This is a book written on a sword. A story carved into its steel. Anything that I read that is considered a form of knowledge, anything I have written, I can reproduce. If I wrote on a lance..."

He pressed his hand down once more. A lance appeared, sleek and deadly, its surface covered in intricate script.

"Which I have. This is a story written on a lance. Do you understand? I am never without a weapon, and I am never without knowledge. And this came from synthesizing my Book Binding skill with my Librarian’s Catalogue skill into a single unified skill."

Vaeliyan nodded slowly, taking it seriously. "Alright. That’s actually so fucking awesome." He turned toward Dr. Wirk. "So let me get this straight. And yes, I get the concept. You explained it to us earlier and I did read the notes you sent us. I understand the idea. But what you are telling me is that the result becomes stronger than the two halves of the whole."

"Yes," Dr. Wirk said, nodding eagerly. "That is exactly it. And not only that, they become uniquely yours. These synthesis points create skills that are like... semi soul skills. They are almost at the level of complexity of Soul Skills. They are not as complicated as an actual Soul Skill, of course, but they are Soul Skill adjacent. They sit on the border between skill and identity."

Vaeliyan frowned. "And we get six of these synthesis points by the time we hit max level, and you are telling me that I should just use them right away? I should not save them to make some super over powered skill?"

"Correct," Dr. Wirk said. "The sooner you use them, the better it will be for you. The more your skills develop, the more the synthesis will benefit you in the long run. They scale with you."

"Can I use them on the same skill?" Vaeliyan asked. "Let us say I synthesize one skill, and then I want to synthesize that new skill with another."

"Yes, that is possible," Dr. Wirk said. "You can layer them as many times as you want. There is no limit to synthesis stacking."

Vaeliyan tilted his head. "So theoretically, I could synthesize my entire suite of skills into a single synthesized skill if I had the Inkling to?"

"Yes," Dr. Wirk said, raising a finger, "but I must warn you. Synthesized skills cannot be used for your class advancement. The System does not allow it. No one has been able to find a workaround. If you condense everything into one supreme super skill, we will call it, you will be left with anemic skills for building your class unless you spend decades developing new skills worthy of evolution. It is a common mistake for short-sighted prodigies to make. I do not recommend it. Not unless you plan to live your next century

The Complaints Department barely made it five steps into the command room before the entire squad began scattering in wildly different directions. The place was a storm of half‑opened crates, humming devices, supply lists, and mentors waiting with varying degrees of patience or open annoyance. It did not take much for the squad to fragment. All it took was one glance, one raised hand from a mentor, one pointed gesture, and the Department split apart like birds flushed from a branch.

Dr. Wirk clapped his hands once, loud enough to carry. "Rokhan. Come along. We have an advancement to get through." Rokhan was already moving before the second sentence finished, falling into step beside him with the ease of someone used to following Wirk’s brisk pace.

Isol pushed his glasses higher on his nose as he turned toward Jurpat. "You are coming with me. Your class progression is overdue." Then he looked to Xera without missing a beat. "And you as well. Josephine is occupied at the moment. I hope you do not mind that I will be handling your advancement instead."

Xera shrugged, smirking. “That is fine. You are probably far more gentle than she is.”

She froze a heartbeat later, eyes widening. “Never mind. Forget that I said anything. Please do not repeat that I said she is not the most gentle person I have ever met. I would like to survive long enough to at least die during the siege.”

Isol only gave her a knowing nod, already guiding both of them outward.

Ramis slapped his palms together once. “Alright. Deck, you son of a bitch! You gonna help me, or am I gonna have to mess with your settings?” He was already reaching toward the terminal behind him.

Deck snorted as he pushed himself off the wall. “Don’t you fucking dare, you little shit. Come on. Let’s get this over with.” He jerked his head toward the exit, and Ramis followed after him.

Theramoor reached out and hooked two fingers into the back of Elian’s collar. Elian had just enough time to inhale before he was dragged away like a particularly mouthy kitten.

Alorna stepped forward next. The twins did not even wait; they flung themselves toward her, and she caught both in a single smooth motion, one on each shoulder. They whooped with delight as she strode toward the door as if carrying two adult women like living pauldrons was the most natural thing in the world.

The rest of the complaints department peeled off, meeting their mentors with nods, waves, or hurried greetings. Within seconds, the once‑crowded room had thinned into small clusters of movement, everyone already heading toward whichever hidden spot they would be using for their evolution.

Chime’s voice crackled through the comms, Lessa having already sent her the update about what they were planning next. “I will meet up with Lambert once I finish gathering the reinforcements.”

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Vaeliyan exhaled softly and looked toward Imujin. The room, once full, was now almost empty. Only the ones staying with him remained.

"Maybe we should do this at my house," Vaeliyan said. "Less eyes."

Imujin nodded without hesitation. "Yes. That is probably for the best. Let us go."

They headed for the exit with the reduced group, their footsteps a steady rhythm over the stone tile.

Tasina tugged on Vaeliyan’s sleeve with the persistence of a child who remembered every promise ever made to her. "When am I going to get my shiny rock?"

The question froze Imujin mid step. He turned to her slowly, sighing as if reminded of far too many responsibilities at once. "Ah. Yes. That ceremony, and the funeral for those you lost, must be delayed until after the siege. I promise you it will be grand, Tasina. Properly grand."

She gave a tiny frown, but she nodded. "Okay. But I will remember that I get the shiny rock. You promised."

Imujin smiled with a small tilt of his head. "And you will get it I assure you."

They resumed their march toward Vaeliyan’s estate, the group naturally condensing around him.

Vaeliyan carried Belle strapped to his chest, her fingers curled securely into his shirt. Roundy’s charging cradle was strapped to Vaeliyan’s back, the Murderbot dormant inside its sealed housing, silent but comforting in its own way. Tasina held his hand, swinging her arm lightly with each step.

Wren stayed close, silent and sharp, scanning every shadow as they walked. Calra hovered near her. Batu walked with an eager, restless energy, shoulders tight with anticipation. Deanna and Nanuk padded behind them, quiet but alert, the two moving in sync like they had been together for years.

Grix and Cassian followed next, radiating the kind of chaotic, barely contained tension that looked halfway like they might start making out or start arguing. Possibly both. Possibly at once. It was their natural state.

Anza, Zal‑Raan, Mabok, and Bee filled out the middle of the group, moving like a mismatched but dependable shield.

Florence and Car stayed at the back, slow and steady, Car’s artificial eye shifting independently as he monitored every angle. He moved like a wall with legs. Whisper, Gunner, and Wires moved along with Florence’s other machines like they had always been there. Florence and Car had not reached level sixty yet. Their purpose had been to protect the children, mostly Belle, during their time in the Red. They did advance their stages but weren’t ready to evolve their classes just yet.

Vaeliyan would be the one responsible for initiating the rest of his friends and family into their next classes. Those who had reached level forty while in the Red had chosen to let the System handle their previous advancements, choosing speed over perfection, taking sub‑optimal evolutions so they could keep pushing forward without delay.

Batu had insisted he wanted to attempt his class evolution alone, but he stayed close regardless, studying how Imujin guided Warren with a focused intensity. If witnessing the technique helped him shape his own path, he would memorize every detail.

Keha and the Neuman children followed a short distance behind, heads turning constantly as they tried to take in everything at once. They were fascinated by the idea of class evolution, even if they were too young and too new to fight. They would stay in reserve during the siege, all except Wing.

Wing walked beside Mel with an intensity that could have cut metal. She had declared, loudly and repeatedly, that she would fight beside Mel no matter what anyone said. Mel had simply shrugged and accepted it.

The two teens, one human and one Neuman, had grown close quickly. Wing admired Mel’s determination. Mel thought Wing was pretty, even if he would never say it out loud.

Keha moved behind the younger Neumans like a parental guardian. She would keep them safe, from what was coming, and from what they might become.

The group moved together toward Vaeliyan’s estate, heavier with expectation, lighter without the full squad, united by the knowledge that the next hours would shape their future.

"Welcome back, Master Vaeliyan. Mistress Wren. And company," House announced the moment the estate doors sealed behind them. The lights warmed subtly, the way they always did when House was pleased. "Is Mistress Belle in need of any assistance?"

"Yeah, House, it smells like she pooped," Vaeliyan said, shifting Belle slightly on his chest as she made a soft, offended noise that suggested she disagreed with this assessment.

"I will take care of it in but a moment," House replied with dignified efficiency, already lowering a sanitation station from the ceiling. "I would also like to report that there were no successful invasions on the estate during your absence."

Vaeliyan stopped mid step. "No successful invasions?" he repeated slowly.

"Ah, yes," House said. "Several ruffians attempted entry, but they were dissuaded by a few mild electrocutions from the shock mines. After the third incident, people quickly realized there was nothing worth their lives in here. One individual even screamed something about your ‘death fortress’ before fleeing." House sounded almost smug.

"Man, I really love your house," Grix said with absolute sincerity. "It’s threatening as fuck and I love it."

"Of course you do," Vaeliyan said, beaming, his pride unmistakable. "It is a good house."

"It really is," Imujin admitted, folding his arms as he studied the entryway’s shifting defense panels. "I usually prefer not relying on machines, personally, but your home is something else. Whatever you did to the AI made it far more tolerable. And far more... terrifying in a good way."

"Thank you," House said, immediately pleased. "It is rare to be appreciated by someone who understands efficiency."

Imujin exhaled, amused. "Now then. We need an open area where we can do this without destroying your home if something goes catastrophically wrong."

Vaeliyan stared at him, very still. "Catastrophic? What do you mean catastrophic? We have done this before. It is not that dangerous."

"Oh, yes, we have done it before," Imujin agreed, waving a hand. "But now you will be doing it to your companions yourself. That introduces variables. Many variables. The chance of, well." He gestured vaguely, as if the air itself would supply the rest. "You will be inserting your nanites into them. Try not to think about the fact that your hands are made of nanites while you are trying to grab something that is conceptually a stream of nanites inside their bodies. If you think your hands are in their body instead of you working on their class inside their pathways, your hands may become part of their body. And that would not be good for anyone involved."

Vaeliyan blinked hard. "Really? Are you seriously only telling me now that it’s that dangerous?"

"No," Imujin said immediately, deadpan.

A beat.

Then he grinned.

"I am just messing with you. It can get much, much worse. If you panic, for example. Or if they panic. Or if the emotional weight of the process destabilizes their organs. Or…"

"Imujin," Wren said sharply.

He paused.

"Right. Right. Too much honesty at once. My apologies." He cleared his throat. "Let us simply say that it is safer if we do this somewhere spacious. Preferably somewhere with fewer breakable objects and fewer places to leave horrible stains."

"House where should we go?" Vaeliyan questioned.

House chimed pleasantly. "I can prepare an area for your needs."

"Thank you, House,” Wren said. “That would be lovely.”

Vaeliyan followed Imujin down the central stairwell with the slow certainty of a man descending into a problem he had agreed to far too quickly. Wren walked at his side, Belle in her arms now that House had whisked away the diaper situation, and the rest of the group trailed close behind.

"House," Vaeliyan called as they reached the first landing, "where exactly are we going?"

"The second sub basement, Master Vaeliyan," House replied with its usual polite enthusiasm. "one of the gymnasium. You have never utilized it before, but it is a suitable location: reinforced walls, ample space, and sufficient distance from vital systems."

Vaeliyan blinked. "I have a gymnasium?"

"You have many things you do not remember authorizing," House said. "I make the best choices I can with the permissions I am given."

Grix snorted. “Did you know your house has a sex dungeon?”

Vaeliyan groaned. “Of course it does. I keep finding rooms I apparently built without remembering. Every time I open a new door, there’s some nonsense from when I first got the place.”

Wren gave a thoughtful little hum, eyes briefly flicking toward him before she shifted just a touch closer to Grix under the excuse of steadying Belle’s blanket.

“Show me where it is later,” she whispered, soft enough that she clearly thought only Grix heard.

Grix nodded.

Vaeliyan didn’t look at either of them.

Didn’t react.

Didn’t comment.

He just breathed out slowly through his nose, resigned to the fact that the class evolution might not be the most stressful part of his day.

Imujin tapped the railing thoughtfully. "A reinforced room will do nicely. Good acoustics for concentration. Minimal outside interference. And if something goes catastrophically wrong, only the person you are helping might explode."

Vaeliyan stopped cold. "You are still joking. Right? You said you were joking. Please tell me you were joking."

Imujin turned, gave him a serene smile. "I like to keep your expectations flexible."

"That is not comforting." Vaeliyan said frowning

"Nor was it meant to be. Now keep walking." Imujin said knowingly.

They reached the second sub basement, the door sliding open. The gymnasium was enormous, larger than Vaeliyan expected for something he supposedly owned: polished stone floors reinforced with alloy supports, high ceilings lined with kinetic dampeners, racks of training equipment that looked brand new, and lighting panels set to a soft amber glow.

"House," Vaeliyan said slowly, "why have I never been told this place existed?"

"You never asked," House said.

Wren let out a quiet snort of laughter.

Belle echoed it.

Imujin strode into the center of the room, clapping his hands once. "Excellent. Now then." He turned toward Vaeliyan, expression shifting from amused to sharply focused. "This will be one of the most dangerous things you have ever done. At least for now."

Vaeliyan swallowed. "You really are not joking."

"Not about the danger," Imujin said. "Only about the degree." He paced in a slow circle, his footsteps echoing softly. "Performing a class evolution on yourself is one thing. On someone else, it requires precision, emotional stability, and complete understanding of the nanite pathways of both bodies involved. You cannot simply shove your hand into someone’s soul and hope for the best."

"That is not what I was planning," Vaeliyan muttered.

"Good," Imujin said. "Because if you attempted that, I would have been so disappointed. And possibly beat you with a chair. Gently."

Batu stepped forward, eyes bright. "Will we be able to watch you do it to him first?"

"You will," Imujin said. "But you will not interfere. Class evolution requires intimate connection between guide and recipient. A wrong breath can cause rippling failures. If you distract me during the process, the best-case scenario is mild neural scarring. The worst case involves agonizing death. A great deal of agony."

Wren tightened her grip on Belle.

Belle made a small, concerned coo.

“You are going to shift over to Warren,” Imujin said. “I will guide you through the process while performing it on you myself. I will tell you exactly what I’m doing, and you will feel each step as it happens to you. You have gone through this process twice before with me, and that experience will help. You already understand the structure of what I am trying to do, and you know how to steady it from your side.”

He gestured toward the center of the room.

“When you do this for your companions and loved ones, you will let them choose the skills they want to build their class around. Your role is to nurture the potential of that class, to help guide the structure into the next evolution that fits who they are. And you will help those same skills evolve in ways that become foundational to their new class.”