Project Seraphina [LitRPG, Magitech, GL]

The lecture continues on for another half an hour. By the end of it all, I’m physically doing extremely well, and mentally so gosh darned fatigued that I just want to congeal in a chair and cuddle with Chloe for comfort for the next three hours. Unfortunately, though, I’m tasked with the punishment of being a productive and responsible member of society, and that means yet more time talking with students, coordinating with Amalia and my other assistants, and otherwise. Probably until close to lunchtime at this rate.

And while many students are in a hurry to get on to their 9:30 classes or back to sleep, there are still plenty who are idling about the auditorium. Some seem like they’re mostly interested in one another, forming study groups and the like. At least one guy is trying to lay the moves on one of his female classmates. Entertainingly, it seems like the girl might just be interested.

My watchful gaze over the concert-turned-lecture hall is cut short by a very energetic young woman approaching me. She looks a little like Chloe, at least superficially; the same height, a similar build, the same light-brown hair down to the middle of her back. But Chloe’s eyes are rich like caramel, inviting and compassionate despite all the hardship and ordeals she’s already overcome. This woman, on the other hand, looks distant. Her smile doesn’t quite reach those dark brown eyes, and her face as a whole is a little more hardened. A little more somber.

“Miss Mortensen?” she says.

I nod. “And you are?”

“Clara Bennett,” she says. “I’d like to talk with you. Alone.”

“Can it wait until after I speak with others?”

“That is acceptable. I will take a seat until you are ready. I trust you will not renege on this agreement?”

Something about her seems a little off. The way she spoke just now was too formal, too distant. I don’t believe she was exactly angry or hostile, but I’m not convinced her motives are as benign as just a student asking for help about her classes or Skills.

“I won’t.”

Clara takes a seat and watches me with unblinking eyes. Mine meet hers for a full second— a veritable eternity, considering how much faster my mind can process information compared with before the System’s arrival. Ultimately, I’m drawn away by another student, but I continue to employ [Valkyrion’s Perception], just in case she tries something malicious.

A shaky young man without much confidence is the next to approach. He’s fidgety, nervous, looking down on the ground, and has a cold sweat, and I’m genuinely concerned that he’s about to pass out from sheer nerves. After a couple more seconds, he starts to speak, though it’s mumbled and barely audible.

“M– Miss Seraphina, Ma’am,” he starts. “Um… I– Is it true that we’re stuck with our classes all the way until Level 32? Is there really no way to change them? I– If we chose a class we d– don’t want anymore?”

I think I understand what’s going on. He chose a class that he either really can’t stand, or has realized is socially unacceptable. [Thief] or [Assassin] or [Criminal] or something along those lines. If he’s a first-year student, and about my age, I could see one of his friends egging him on to some class or another, or perhaps he did it for social media clout. So I decide to take a measured approach.

“Truth is, we can’t know that for sure,” I say. “Just because it’s not a common thing doesn’t mean there’s not some potion or complex spell that allows someone to reclass, or back out of their current class. However, even so, remember that classes only influence our mindset and what Skills we’ll be offered. They don’t dictate our future, nor can they override our free will. They can be changed, and as people’s and monsters’ average levels start to rise, it’ll become easier and easier to hit Level 32 and 64.”

“But it’ll be harder for me to get Experience if I don’t–” He trails off, clearly still not comfortable with my knowing exactly what his class is.

I don’t press the issue, instead nodding noncommittally. “It will all work out in time. For right now, though, I want you to focus on what you want to do instead, and start getting involved in activities to that end. It won’t do you any good to get to Level 32 if you only get offered the same options the second time around.”

“T– Thank you.” He nods and departs.

As he walks away, I see him reach toward an open pouch in a backpack nestled up against the aisle. He stops just before reaching in, then turns to me, then shakes his head and gives his left hand a small smack with his right, mumbling something under his breath. Despite it all, I pride myself on hopefully encouraging him to turn away from a [Thief] class evolution in the future. Only time will tell, though.

There are a few more conversations that follow. Some students who just want to introduce themselves, a few asking general questions. One student thanks me for my service, having seen me in my battle against the City Slayer a month and a half ago. I demur a bit, pointing out that I’m no hero and that we only survived thanks to the efforts and sacrifices of so many soldiers and volunteers who’ve been going out day in and day out to protect all of us.

The back and forth continues a good while longer. By the time we end up finally finishing, it’s nearly 10:00 AM— forty minutes after the end of the lecture. I’m tired, I’m behind on schedule, and I just want to go back to my office and meditate or sleep or just mentally check myself out until 12:30 when my Intro to Combat Training class starts. But I can’t, all because of this Clara Bennett woman who continues to watch me.

Her eyes never look away from me, even for a moment. Even as a couple of students make a loud sound in the back of the auditorium as some sort of prank, her eyes are laser focused, her fingers twitchy. Despite her lack of hostility, it’s as though she’s preparing to fight me at a moment’s notice.

The last dozen or students exit the auditorium, leaving just me and her alone in a theater auditorium designed for an audience of thousands. Clara walks up with unnatural grace, her movements poised, not a single muscle twitch out of place. It’s not just that she’s powerful— whether or not she could defeat me, I honestly don’t know. Our levels and stats are about equal, judging by the amount of [Ether] my [Valkyrion’s Perception] detects.

No, the more pressing matter is how she’s in absolute control of her body. It’s… It’s like my memories of my past self, when I was a complete cyborg down to the microscopic level, rather than having a body which is mostly human, with a few cybernetic prosthetics. Definitely some sort of Skill at play. Probably more than one.

A single, fluid motion, and Clara has frontflipped onto the stage. She invites me to join her. I oblige, sprouting my wings and levitating with the same casual ease she just displayed. She leads me into center stage, where the lights from my lecture still shine down upon us, the heat of the powerful stage lamps blaring down upon me.

A veil like a cosmic aurora materializes around us. I draw Filia instinctively, cycling through my options. Fight? I could… But not here if I can help it. Flee? The barrier isn’t particularly powerful, and [Defiant Spirit] is already bursting forth from the depths of my [Ether] core, ready to help me overcome. I could definitely break out of it if I wanted to.

However, she hasn’t yet openly threatened me, and I know I’ll get a lot of hell from a lot of people if I lash out at her. Chloe would be near the top of the list of people who’d give me crap. So instead, I step back, leaning against the hemispherical barrier and feeling a slight give. I’ll wait for her to dictate in which direction this confrontation will go.

Clara raises a hand. “Please, lower your weapon. I have not come to fight you. Only to ask you some questions.”

I leave my weapon pointed firmly toward her. “What assurances do I have that you mean what you say? I don’t know you, and your mannerisms are suspicious as hell. You say you want to talk, and the first thing you do is throw up some sort of Barrier Skill, as though you mean to trap me in here.”

I sense something slimy trying to worm its way into my mind. It’s not immediately dangerous, but I don’t like it, and I’m not going to tolerate it. [Defiant Spirit] again bursts forth, and this time, I let it flood my entire being.

[[Defiant Spirit] activates. You have resisted the [Mind-Altering] effect [Peer into the Absolute Truth].]

The burrowing sensation stops, and for the first time, Clara’s unflappability wavers. Her eyes cross, and a single drop of blood oozes down from her nose. She steps back with a horrified look on her face, before quickly replacing it with a smooth and undisturbed countenance.

“What exactly are you?” she asks.

“Someone who isn’t going to stand by while some stranger decides that she has the right to worm her way into my mind. [Peer into the Absolute Truth]? That’s what I think your Skill is called? Some sort of mind reading or truth detection Skill, I’m guessing from the name?”

Clara remains straight-faced, not giving me an answer to my half-question. Damn if I’m not getting pissed. I’m really starting to think ‘government agent’ from the vibes she’s giving. And I don’t care if she’s U.S. or American Legion. I’m not going to be manipulated or used by either, especially in such dirty, underhanded ways.

“Now, I want to reiterate. I don’t want this altercation to turn physical, and I don’t think you do either. So rather than trapping me in a barrier and then forcing me to deal with this mind reading bullshit, how about we have a discussion like civilized adults. You can start by telling me who you actually are, and why you’ve come here.”

“Before I do, Miss Mortensen, I need to ask you one question. Have you, at any point in the past week, been in or around the Chicago metropolitan area?”

“How would I get there? I’ve been too busy getting ready for classes to pack up and take a flight halfway across the country.”

“Then please, Miss Mortensen,” Clara says, pulling a stack of photos out of her [Inventory]. “Explain these pictures.”