Project Seraphina [LitRPG, Magitech, GL]

(Planet Earth, Year 1 A.I.; August 2023, 5 Months after System Integration.)

I take a few minutes to look over my armor and make sure that everything is in order. All of the straps are snugly fit, the magic of the equipment subtly adjusting the size and shape of my body. It’s probably not strictly professional for a new professor to be dressed in a breastplate covered in wyvern scales and wearing greaves that look like they could have come directly out of an antique arms and armor dealer’s collection. Nor would it have been appropriate a year ago to go to class wielding an eight-foot long silver swordstaff infused with a sapient mass of magical metal in its core.

It wouldn’t have been possible to fly under my own power either, but thanks to the arrival of the System back in March, so many of the things we accepted as given just a few short months ago are no longer true.

Everything looks good— the power of [Archangel’s Gaze]… whoops, I guess that’s now [Valkyrion’s Perception]— allows me to see around and behind myself without the need for such trinkets as mirrors and cameras.

I reach into my [Inventory]. Six hundred copies of my syllabus, lecture notes covering everything I plan to talk about in class, lunch… Sure, I could fly over and order something from one of the restaurants off campus, but Alicia’s home-cooked Pasta Bolognese? Yes, please!

“Hey, Chloe!” I message through our [Angelic Bond].

Strangely enough, while most of my Skills with Angel-themed names changed to Valkyrie-themed ones, [Angelic Bond] remained untouched by the class change of my second ascension. Maybe the System considers it ‘close enough’ according to whatever intelligence runs it. Or maybe it’s ‘angelic’ in a sense other than being tied to my former class as the [Mechanical Angel]. It’ll be an interesting topic for class discussion later in the semester, although I probably shouldn’t dwell too much on it for now.

“Sera? Are you about to leave?”

“Just thumbing through my [Inventory] and checking over everything. Are you still planning to come by at noon for Combat Training?”

“I’ll be there as I promised. And I love you! Have a good first day!”

“Love you too, Chloe!”

In a swift motion, I’m out of the house and standing outside, greeting the light of the early morning. Above me is some adventurous soul driving one of the first flying cars manufactured and sold in the city. The technology is a little rough so far as I know, and they don’t have a lot of safety features built in.

More pressingly, the [Machinists], [Inscribers], and [Enchanters] creating and mass-producing the technology aren’t the highest level and don’t have the best Skills for the job. In other words, while it’s rare, there are reports of these prototypes falling out of the sky and landing on some unsuspecting person’s car down below. Usually not fatal for either party— [Vitality]-reinforced bodies aren’t so easily broken— but certainly a shitty way for a day to start or end. Not even going to pretend to understand all the legal ramifications. I’ll leave that to the [Lawyers], and no, I’m not going to spend $300 an hour to call up Mr. Richardson just to sate my idle curiosity.

I sprout my wings, still mostly teal, though now adorned with silver embellishments along the outer edges of each. They are sleeker, more streamlined, and generally a bit more aerodynamic in appearance compared with before my recent ascension. Thanks to the modest increase to my [Speed] stat following my class up, I’m sure I actually am quite a bit faster in the air as well. And unlike before, this time, I am willing to oblige my idle curiosity.

Flying is… so intuitive, thanks to my magic and Skills. I simply will a bit of [Ether] into my wings and, with the help of my [Valkyrion Body], tell gravity to go sit down in the corner and lament for the misdeed of trying to keep me groundbound. I float off the concrete sidewalk, rising slowly for about three hundred feet. Far enough up I shouldn’t cause too much of a disturbance when I finally cut loose. Not like I have any engine noise to worry about, just the sound of moving through the air at a decent speed.

And then I fly. I tilt my wings in for a more aerodynamic profile, and I shoot myself forward with all the speed I can muster. The flying car from before is going at a fairly solid pace of maybe fifty miles per hour. I pass it with all the celerity of a freeway driver passing a sign on the side of the road. A few other cars are flying around within my field of vision, and I do my best to avoid them, as well as the birds, the single airplane, and the other airborne pedestrian traffic over the city.

Actually, if pedestrian refers specifically to foot traffic, then what would be the term for people flying under their own power, rather than in an airborne vehicle? I’d say I’d leave it to the linguists, except a fair bit of my research is actually linguistics related, and I’ve consulted with linguistics faculty in the past. But my work isn’t on the linguistics of the English language, so I’ll leave that determination to someone else.

I finish my flight over the city in the span of five minutes and touch down on the edge of campus. After a quick wave to Coach Leene— who still won’t tell me her last name so I can address her formally— I head across the small campus and make my way toward my office. If at all possible, I’d love to get a few minutes alone to just breathe and mentally prepare myself before my 8:00 AM lecture.

Thanks to a swarming mass of paparazzi— I mean, news reporters— I don’t get a chance. The idea of just hitting them with a flashbang spell sounds immensely appealing, but it would probably come back to bite my ass in a day or two. Especially in light of the recent political situation with the fall of the federal government. There’s been a lot of reignited concern about high-leveled people’s rights and responsibilities in a society increasingly stratified by physical and magical power. I’ve done my best to stay out of the limelight as much as possible, but I know these days of peace and normalcy are numbered. I just hope the number of easygoing days ends up being more than I fear.

“Miss Mortensen,” one of the news reporters says to me as I walk. “What is your take on the demands issued by the First American Legion?”

I sigh, mostly to give myself a few moments to think over everything. So far as I understand from thirdhand accounts and cursory research I’ve done online, they want to reorganize the United States— or former United States territories— into something akin to a cross between a fully militarized state and a neo-feudal system. Recognizing that current institutions are inadequate to solving the problems posed by the System— namely, the swarms of monsters that plague cities around the world from time to time— they are seeking a full industrialization and mobilization of each city-state’s manpower. They have also proposed grueling training regimens to sharply increase the number of high-level combatants as quickly as possible.

As part of this, the leaders of each city-state, elected or otherwise, would pay tribute in manpower, resources, and military might to the central regime, and in exchange, be given limited autonomy to act on their own initiative and manage internal affairs. The central military structure of the legion would, as part of this arrangement, offer protection in exchange for fealty. In short, the fundamental principle of the military subservient to the civilian government would be flipped on its head. The military would reign supreme, holding veto authority over the civilian regime.

All in all, a system rife with so many pitfalls and potentials for abuse that I could delineate them for hours. And yet, considering that many hundreds of millions of people around the world have already lost their lives to these monster invasions— nearly seventeen million in the States alone— the offer isn’t unattractive. Especially not to the wide swath of the population who values the idea of security and safety over the ideals of freedom and democracy.

I have my own stances, and were it my decision to make unanimously, I’d tell the Legion exactly in which orifice they could shove it. I am the [Defier of Fates], after all. However, I also realize that, as the only person in the city who’s crossed the level 64 threshold and unlocked her second class, my words have weight. Despite not having an official government role and not wanting one either, people still assume I speak for the city, for the university, or for any other entity other than myself. Well, myself and Chloe.

Instead, I demur, the only reasonable response.

“Right now, the Mayor’s office and the City Council are in dialogue with the U.S. Army detachments stationed here. Together, they are making a decision on what the city’s next steps will be. I’d ask that you please respect the confidentiality of those discussions until a public decision has been reached.”

“But Miss Mortensen,” another reporter, this time a woman, interjects. “Whatever decision they reach will ultimately depend on what actions you will support. So, is it not more prudent for you to be involved in that discussion?”

“I will act in what I believe will be the best interests of myself, my loved ones, and my community, taking into consideration all information at my disposal at the time of those decisions.”

The reporters continue on for several minutes, and I continue to give what I’ve been coached as ‘non-answers’. Deflect, reiterate, and stick to the script. It’s so infuriating watching politicians do so on TV, but now that I’m in their position, I’m actually developing something resembling empathy for them. I shudder. Empathy for a politician. Never thought I’d live to see the day.

Finally, as 7:30 arrives, I float into the air, using a bit of [Wind] magic as a simple voice amplification magic.

“Alright, no more questions; I need to get ready for my lecture.” And then, before anyone can object or stop me, I fly over the gathered crowd of reporters, students, and faculty, making my way over to my office.

There’s an interesting dichotomy at play. On the one hand, the campus is absolutely packed, at least compared with the ghost town that it was just a couple of weeks ago during the summer recess. Students are moving between the dorm halls and on-campus housing and the dining hall, the gym and athletics complex, and the various academic and administration buildings strewn throughout the campus.

But on the other hand, the parking lots are almost completely empty. A few new Ethertech automobiles— both flying and groundbound— from some particularly well-off individuals, but most people seem to be coming into campus under their own power. It’s a good chance to see different people’s Skills at play, although I don’t get an opportunity to do more than catch brief glances before I’m through the door and into the Engineering & Natural Sciences building.

Twenty minutes behind schedule and without much time to really clear my mind, I make my way down the stairs and to my office. Amalia, my teaching assistant, is already there, goddesses bless her, and she’s joined by four other students, none of whom I recognize.

“Sorry I’m late,” I say, pulling my office key out of my [Inventory] in a flicker of silvery light and opening the door in a blur. “I got stopped by a bunch of news reporters. Pretty sure they were going to keep the questions going all morning if I didn’t fly away from them.”

“Do you have everything you need for class?” Amalia asks.

“I think so. Lecture notes, syllabi–” I pull the two-foot tall stack of papers out of my [Inventory] as well, handing it to Amalia, who divides it out among herself and the other four students gathered by my office door. “–I’ve got a bottle of water, and I understand IT should already be there to help get the projection system set up. By the way, I don’t think I remember everyone’s names and faces just yet.”

“Lauren, Elaine, Randall, and Charles,” Amalia says, pointing in order to the petite redhead in a stylish, preppy outfit, a girl about my height, but with striking raven hair, an extremely tall gentleman in athletic attire with a broad, muscular figure that screams ‘football lineman’, and a glasses-wearing young man in a collared shirt, a pair of khaki pants, and pair of dress shoes.

I nod, unable to offer a proper handshake to my preceptors for the semester. There was an e-mail I received from Dr. O’Neal, the department head, a few days ago. Because the demand for the Introduction to the System course was so overwhelming, the Departments of Philosophy and Mechanical Engineering got together and coordinated four preceptors between them to assist me in my coursework. They were also prepared to offer me several more TA’s as well to help with grading and student questions, but I ended up declining their offer. I don’t plan to really do much in the way of assignments or exams, instead focusing on general study, lectures, and class discussion. We are all learning the material, after all, and that applies to me as well.

“Well then, I think it’s just about time. Shall we be off?”

With no one objecting, we make our way over to the university’s grand auditorium. I’m nervous already, but at least I have a few minutes to steel my nerves before class starts.