Tyrants of Earth - The Legend of Artigan

A room of pure inky black surrounded them. The only thing in the void of space was a simple ornate table made of leather and wood, fit for a fancy study. Two ordinary chairs in opposition with each other.

Of course, the two that were seated in the chairs were anything but ordinary.

That was where the similarities from the first meeting had ended. The Manager no longer took an appearance that reminded Ryan of his old sword training coach. It still wore a suit that was woven out of the cosmos, but the galaxies no longer swirled. It looked like a cheap knock-off, something you wore to a fun party rather than to dazzle impressionable kids.

The Manager also wore an adventurer’s cloak on top, the hood drawn back revealing a younger more familiar face with slightly pointy ears. A mix of Artigan’s and Ryan’s features. To top it all off, the Manager had a wild grin on its face.

Though, it wasn’t the only one.

Gone was the unbelievable awe and reverence of a naive young man that had just wanted to be an adventurer. Here was the man who knew how difficult it was to hold onto his dreams. Here was the man who refused to bend or break under any pressure.

Ryan sat, wearing fancy robes he’d won from a Sect Leader. A specially made backpack from the Kingdom of Valmere, wearing adventurer’s gear underneath. Potions, poisons, throwing knives, he had stocked up on whatever he could. An adventurer ready to face down any threat.

Grinning at the entity that whispered sweet nothings to everyone’s ears.

“Alright, I hope you’re ready for round three..”

The Manager had prepared for this moment too, obviously having watched the things that Ryan had been searching online. It looked at Ryan questioningly.

“Are there any rules you wish to follow?”

“Of course. I want you to promise that you will talk to me with the spirit of the conversation. Not the letter of it. You promise that or I walk.”

The Manager clicked its tongue, as if it were disappointed. “Isn’t that such a shame? Here I thought you would be confident enough to truly put your wits against mine.”

Ryan shrugged casually, his palms facing the ceiling.

“I’m just a stupid adventurer. I know when I’m outclassed in a battle of wits.”

The Manager spread its arms, its palms also facing the ceiling.

“Then let it be so.”

BAM!

Ryan immediately took his feet off the Manager’s desk and slammed his fist as hard as he could onto the table. Despite his strength, there wasn’t a single dent, just a loud crack that was absorbed into the walls. Ryan’s face loomed over the table, staring down at the Manager.

“Are you capable of lying?”

The Manager smiled, undoubtedly expecting this first move.

“Yes.”

Ryan sat back in a much smoother fashion. An abrupt change from the sudden erratic violent move. Neither party pretended that anything had happened.

While the answer was expected, it was still a bit of a shock. The Manager was known for never lying. It was simply an irrefutable fact, one that nobody ever questioned. Even Ryan never considered it until he had found out the Manager could mislead people. Then he had started looking for the source of the fact himself.

A brief search through the internet and the realmnet showed that the Manager had never truly explicitly stated that it couldn’t lie.

Only that it never did. ‘I never lie’ was the words it used, not ‘I cannot lie’.

A distinct difference. One that Ryan knew had to be true.

The Witch Tyrant had said the Trial System was a melting pot, putting chaotic elements together to see what monster would pop out. It made no sense to have the governing entity to be incapable of lying.

So that had been Ryan’s first test. If the Manager agreed to being honest with the spirit of the conversation then lied to his face, Ryan would have stopped listening and walked.

Of course, the Manager probably expected that. Though the answer didn’t help its position in trying to convince Ryan that it would be truthful.

As if sensing his thoughts, the Manager spoke first.

“I have not lied, not in the last five hundred and sixty three iterations.”

Ryan tapped on the table, pretending to think.

“I do want to believe you, I really do. The problem is, I just can’t.”

He stopped tapping and pointed a finger at the Manager.

The Manager bared its teeth, pride and anger on its face. “Do you think I need to lie to mortals to get them to do what I want?”

Ryan waved it down, uninterested in the Manager faking anger at him.

“I’m sure that’s true, but that still doesn’t help your case. Why don’t you tell me something that’ll make me trust you. Something important.”

“That’s quite a vague open ended request. One where you can disapprove of and keep asking for another.”

Ryan nodded sagely. “True, true.” Then he waggled his eyebrows. “And you know I was going to do just that.”

“Indeed.”

“Which brings me to my issue. Isn’t it a little unfair that you already know what I’m going to do before I do it?”

The Manager pretended to consider the question. Like it hadn’t expected the question either and was considering it for the first time.

“If I could accurately predict how someone like you would behave, then the Trial System would have been completed long, long ago.”

Ryan gave the Manager a cheeky grin, pretending he was happy with that answer.

“I’ve thrown a few curveballs, have I?”

“You could say that.”

This content has been misappropriated from NovelFire; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The Manager sounded genuinely frustrated. It was an interesting idea, though hard to believe. Ryan lifted his hand from the table.

“I think it’s still a little unfair, this little chat between us. I still want something from you, to ease my nerves.” Ryan shrugged sheepishly. “Or I walk.”

It was a funny little threat, the idea of him walking away from the Manager. He kept it vague on purpose, walking could mean that he just picked his class orbs and left. It could also mean that he would turn his back on the Trial System.

As absurd as that sounded, he had a real logical reason for dropping everything here too.

If I’m right, it won’t matter if I stop the Witch Tyrant. But it isn’t the time for the question. Not yet. I’m pumping you for as much information as I can.

He was thinking about returning to Earth and doing a coinflip for the decision.

If even he didn’t know which choice he was going to take, then how would the Manager, right?

The silence between them lasted for a few more seconds.

“I will not entertain vague requests. What is it you truly wish to know?”

Ryan leaned in, his elbow on the table. “I want to know how your omniscience works. Is it a skill? Magic? Is it wisdom from being older than dirt?”

“You could say it’s a little bit of both.”

The Manager waved a hand and the surroundings changed. From an inky black room it changed to an apartment he was familiar with. Bright lights shining through the drawn curtains.

It was the fancy apartment he had rented with Milock. His own body was on the couch, unconscious with colorful dicks drawn on his face–which he probably deserved. The TV was on, playing reports on the new dangers of Sector Thirteen. The breaking news text indicating that adventurers were fleeing from Sector Ten as unknown monsters came rushing in.

Milock was in the lounge, rapidly switching between two laptops and writing things down. His friend looked a little worse for wear.

The Manager had no care for the room around them. Its eyes were still on him.

“This is my omniscience.”

“Neat trick. So you just turn your room into multiple screens and watch everything?”

“No, the room can only do one scene at a time.”

That didn’t sound right. “Wait, so you just watch one scene at a time?”

“Yes.”

Ryan sat back, staring at Milock who was drinking his third can of energy drink and had bags under his eyes.

“But you watch everyone right? All the Trialists and future potential Trialists?”

“No.” The Manager declared. “I watch everyone and everything. It’s necessary to make accurate predictions. Even a single blasted advertisement could change everything. I watch everything from beginning to end. How a program might be coded and the changes thereafter. I watch the programmers before they make that journey. How they would behave based on previous actions and the environment they grew up on. Simply put, everything.”

He took a moment to digest that statement.

“Well now I almost feel sorry for you.”

Even the smells and sounds were translated across, the bright window showing the slowly decaying city of Los Angeles. He took a breath.

“Do these screens show you possible futures? Is this a Trial System feature?”

“No, the future and all its probabilities are my own craft. Mastered after watching countless mortals make their choices. I take note of every possible choice. Determine the reactions from each of those actions and repeat. Then I play out the scenarios of the branching probabilities myself.”

Ryan frowned. “Hold on, you’re saying you predict every single reaction from every single choice?”

The Manager smiled once more. “Is that so hard to believe?”

That sounded impossible. Every single reaction from every single action? With no constants? Then…

“How much fucking time do you spend here?”

“Does it matter?”

“It matters that the thing that’s managing the Trial System is out of their fucking mind.”

“I am perfectly functional and sane.”

Both adventurer and entity stared at each other for a good minute. Then at the exact same time, they burst out laughing. Ryan didn’t stop laughing at the cosmic joke for a good twenty two seconds, the Manager stopping at the exact same time as he did.

“I’m sorry, the fact that you’re using my own face to say that is hilarious. That’s some great material.”

The Manager shook its head, pretending to wipe a tear from its face. The mannerisms it copied was similar to his, though slightly different in a way Ryan couldn’t describe. Uncanny valley? It reached down at its desk and pulled out a drawer, then took out a large bottle of golden alcohol that shouldn’t have been able to fit in.

The Manager looked at the label, nodding approvingly.

“Gurthanun Rum. Dwarvish, from three iterations ago when an adventurer tried to bribe me. This should be the last rum from their proud country.”

The entity took out two glasses ready to pour when Ryan raised a hand.

“Sorry, I don’t want to drink while on the job.”

“A shame.” The Manager put the bottle away, then leaned into the table, looking . “I must admit, I got a little ahead of myself. It is rare to meet someone below the tenth realm that I can speak to freely. I have to be so careful around those that don’t have strong enough convictions.”

Ryan nodded. Knowing about some of the looser interactions he had with a few of the dragonslayers.

“Choices right?”

“Yes. If I know the probabilities of how they’re going to act, then every word that comes out of my mouth becomes a manipulation towards a road set in stone. Much better in the long run to let them .”

That made sense. Though obviously, it wasn’t always the case.

“Unless of course, you want to put your finger on the scale. Tip the balance in one direction.” Ryan mused, then stared right into the Manager’s pupils. “Or as the Witch Tyrant puts it, break decorum.”

The Manager didn’t respond.

You could cut the tension in the air with a knife. There was no way the Manager didn’t know that he wasn’t talking about his own situation. The Manager raised a finger.

“Before we rush to such unpleasantness, may I show you something?” It asked. “In the spirit of honesty, this is naturally a manipulation of my own, and a continuation of the answer I give to your question of how my prediction abilities work.”

Ryan was too curious to say no. He simply nodded, tense now that they had finally gone off script and was following the Manager’s pace.

It waved a hand and the scene changed once more.

It was the Manaburger restaurant he used to work at. The Manager and Ryan sitting at one of the restaurant’s tables, watching an old scene.

A two month younger Ryan was at the counter and they were running a skeleton crew.

The same crew that was there when he’d gotten shot.

The Manager cleared its throat.

“I know that logically, you understand that my prediction abilities aren’t truly omniscient. I also know that no matter what anyone tries to say, that deep down it still disturbs you. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you worry that everything is a manipulation crafted by me.”

Ryan was still half transfixed by the scene. It may have only been two months but he was so much younger here, younger but also with far, far less life in his eyes.

The Manager continued.

“Because of it you continuously rebel, rejecting every label and possible opportunity and coming up with solutions that can’t possibly be expected.”

Ryan put his full focus back on the Manager. It was one thing when the entity took your features and started acting like you. It was another to have that same entity read what lay in the deepest parts of his mind.

“Let me allay that fear. This was the road I had hoped you would walk. The true path.”

The younger Ryan sat bored by the counter, doomscrolling through his screens. The events of that day happened the exact same. Barry came along and Ryan made a fool of himself in front of an ex-adventurer. He hissed at Clara when she said naive stupid things about the teenagers with guns. Then clearly regretted telling her off in such a manner.

Everything happened the same, even Barry scaring off the teens and both of them sitting down by the window while Ryan tried to figure out how to sound smart and impress the war veteran.

That was where things changed. When the car came up and the window rolled down. This younger Ryan saw the gun—and hesitated.

The bullets were fired and Barry, without a warning from Ryan, hadn’t reacted in time.

He leapt for the ground, covering himself as the car drove away.

All the younger Ryan saw was the face of a dead orc, and so, so much blood. He scrambled to the ex-adventurer and tried to put pressure on the wounds—only to realize the orc was already dead. A bullet had gone through the head.

Barry’s dead face disturbed the real Ryan. He looked away and back at the Manager.

“You thought I wouldn’t have leaped to save Barry?”

“No, you wouldn’t have, not if it wasn’t for that damned advertisement.”

“I’m sorry what?”

He had zero idea what the Manager was talking about.

The scene rewinded, the younger Ryan scrolling through when an advertisement popped up.

“Do you want unmatched power? Unending wealth? Eternal life? All of it might be yours this weekend with the CaliLottery. The CaliLottery has obtained two sponsorships to the Trial System for the lucky Powerball winners. Choose your adventure today.”

“Yeah right.” The younger Ryan said.

Then he put his phone down and started daydreaming. That had been the difference between the previous scene and this one.

The real Ryan vaguely remembered this.

“In all of my calculations, I had missed that advertisement. That little daydream, where you imagined yourself to be a brave adventurer, changed everything.”

The scenes changed once again, continuing the story after Barry had died.

And it had changed everything.

“You were never supposed to lose your safety life here. If this had happened, you would be stronger than you are right now.”