The Beginning

I usually sat in my cubicle, pretending to work. I am amazingly skilled at feigning labor, so my

bosses would get off my back. I work as a clerk in one of the biggest accounting firms in the country.

"If you want to get a decent-paying job after high school, study accounting," the words of my grade

twelve Life Skills teacher. Those same words rang in my mind all through my varsity career as I

sweated to get the bare minimum required to graduate. My time was otherwise preoccupied with

reading. I read everything the library on campus had to offer - history, fiction, non-fiction,

autobiographies, and the like. But ultimately, my interest ended up swaying deeper into fantasy. Her

Majesty Ursula K. Le Guin, the God of Earthsea's saga - her worlds were my escape.

Nowadays, however, all I get to read is mind-numbing work crap. Essentially, it boiled down to data

entry. At the start of the day, you would get a stack of papers with various balances. By the end of

the day, all the balance sheets allocated to you must have been entered in the system. That was all

a clerk around here did. I long lost hope of finding my job interesting. I used to dream up scenarios

where I, the diligent employee, discover a mislabeled balance sheet - not by mistake but because I

did my job to perfection. A sheet which I would then bring to the attention of my supervisor, and by

doing so, I would have unwittingly uncovered a vast looting scheme from within the company that

ended up on the doorsteps of high-ranking government officials. I would get a promotion, and I

would be hailed as the hero who saved her company and country from widespread corruption.

Those used to be my normal daydreams as I started each day with a stack of fresh balance sheets.

Recently, though, I have been in the midst of a miasma of existential dread - the usual kind: what is

my purpose, why am I here, will I find love, am I a shitty person, if I'm going to die, what is the use,

blah blah blah. All my friends are having the same crisis, I'm sure, but I am the only one rude enough to voice them out loud when we go out for Friday night drinks. I wonder why they don't invite

me out anymore. Now my little black dress has no reason to exist. If it were sentient, it would curse

my pose.

Today, I was not doing any work, or even pretending to be doing any work. Instead, today I am

staring at a fascinating golden key I found. The way I found it was strange, to be sure, but the key

itself was stranger. Every morning before I go to work, I have this ritual where I make sure I have

everything before I leave the house. I check my handbag, and as soon as I leave the front door, I

instantly remember the thing I forgot. This morning it was the keys to my mailbox. I always check my

mail on Thursdays. "Ugh, not the Post Office," I remember thinking. As soon as I grabbed my

mailbox keys from their special bowl - a gift from my nephew so that, according to him, "Aunty won't

lose her keys anymore" - the nerve - I felt that something was off. It was the weight, but I didn't

check them right then and there. I was running late, so I just stuffed them in my handbag and

rushed to work.

At work, seated in my cubicle, I began to feel bored with what I was doing, and it was happening

faster than usual due to my growing existentialism. So, I did the only thing that came to mind, and

took out my mailbox keys to examine them. As I held them in my hand, my boredom vanished

instantly when I noticed a golden key attached to the same keychain as the mundane mailbox keys.

The key was enchanting as it glowed in the fluorescent light of the office, and I found myself

wondering what kind of door this golden key opened.

As I looked at the key, I began to imagine that it was the key to a grand kingdom. It was a genuine

golden key, and while I am not an expert in gold, I used to work at the "Gold Rust," a franchised

gold trading firm, so I could say with reasonable certainty that the key was made of gold.

The key was a masterpiece, intricately engraved with either a strange/lost language or some weird

grid lines. As I examined it, I felt as though I was playing a scripted part, a feeling that I had

experienced growing up, which was particularly strong that day. Despite feeling like I was living in a

fantasy world, I told myself that there was no magic and that it was just a golden key, albeit with

intricate engravings on its surface.

However, my emotions were conflicted, as I was both anxious and excited, feeling as though I

needed a break to clear my thoughts. I decided to take a restroom break, during which I checked

the time and realized that it was hardly past nine, leaving me with no way to escape work to follow

the only lead I had about the key - "The Post Office!"

I smiled to myself, realizing that I might be the only person ever to get excited about going to the

Post Office. After finishing my business in the restroom, I rubbed the golden key between my thumb

and forefinger all the way to the pounder room.

In the restroom, I made a bold decision, telling myself, "Fuck work!" I decided to check out what this

key was all about and left my supervisor's office, telling her that I had a family emergency and

needed to leave for the day. She rolled her eyes and reminded me not to be late tomorrow, and I

rushed out of the industrial-style multimillion-dollar office building.

The building looked like giant rusty containers with windows, and I was impressed by how ugly it

was. The lack of imagination on the corporate part when they chose the design was disturbingly

impressive, leading me to wonder if it was some kind of statement. So transfixed was I that I almost

got run over by a police car, which shook me up a bit and made me more vigilant as I made my way

to the Post Office.

As I arrived at the Post Office, I had an inexplicable feeling that someone was watching me closely,

and I could feel their eyes on me, even at the back of my ponytail. The feeling was surreal, and I

began to suspect that I was in a story. Despite everything looking normal, I couldn't shake the

feeling that something was off. Nonetheless, I stood there during work hours in front of my mailbox,

holding up the golden key as if it would fit in the lock and open a door to wonders.

I took a deep, calming breath and felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as my hand

holding the key drew closer to the keyhole of my mailbox, number 1917. I sensed a rightness in the

air, a feeling that this was my destiny, and that I was about to achieve a great triumph. It was a

declaration from the universe, a message so simple that to miss it would be to fail to breathe. The

universe used no words, but conveyed its message through the weight of its presence, much like

how I followed my uncles' conversations in vernacular, understanding the meaning behind the

words without knowing their exact definitions. Words with weight often defy translation.

Yet, if I had to attempt to translate the universe's message, it would be three simple words: "I

choose you." Who was I to argue with the universe's decree? With outstretched arms, I embraced

my incoming fortune. However, as I attempted to insert my golden key into the keyhole, I realized

that the keyhole would not accept it. I couldn't believe that the universe had chosen me, only to

deny me access to my own mailbox. Shouldn't the universe have made the hole bigger to

accommodate my key?

Doubt clutched at my throat with the strength of a falling drunk holding onto his globe, praying to

avoid spilling a single drop. Doubt had always been with me, and it began to whisper its list of

grievances, trying to drown out the weight of the universe's message. But I hoped that doubt would

relent and leave me to the mercy of the universe, as it often did. I felt deflated, like a newly inflated

football that had just been punctured, and my mind was filled with random, nonsensical thoughts. As

I left the Post Office, disappointed in my life choices, I felt an uncontrollable urge to weep for the

loss of my dream, even though I had only found the key today. It felt like I was meant to open that

mailbox in a grand, spectacular fashion, as if it had been my destiny since birth.

Unable to function like an adult, I found myself sitting on the steps outside of the Post Office, crying.

It was still morning, and the lack of people around may have explained my solitude. With my head

nearly between my knees, I started to wonder if this was some twisted afterlife, and not getting the

golden key to open was my divine punishment for always going high to church. "God, why are you

doing this to me?" I wondered silently. The more I entertained the idea of this being some sort of

hellscape-slash-purgatory, the more it made sense. I even knew the moment of my death - it was

when the police car had hit me earlier while I was crossing the street, lost in thought, staring at my

god-awful office building. Now, it seemed, I was condemned to an afterlife that did not want me to

receive what was owed to me in life.

Resigned to let my tears fall, I sat on the steps leading to the post office, unnoticed by the few

people passing by. As I blinked away some of my tears, a light tickled my eyeballs. I tried to see the

source of the reflection and found it to be a manhole cover in the driveway of the post office. Not

wanting to get my hopes up once more, I observed the manhole cover like a footballer about to take

a last-minute penalty. I saw that only a portion of the manhole was reflecting the golden light.

Holding up the golden key in my hand to the sunlight, I tried to get it to reflect some of the light onto

my face. The texture of the key's reflected light felt the same as the reflected light coming from the

manhole, and my growing excitement made me feel like a master gaffer.

Cautiously, I approached the manhole cover, my hopes raised. I tried taking small steps to delay my

arrival, but the distance was too short, and before I knew it, I was standing almost on top of the

manhole. Fearful of disappointment, I slowly looked downward to the cause of the reflection. To my utter surprise and relief, I saw a golden keyhole, surely meant for my golden key. Still holding the

key in my hand, I slowly inserted it into the keyhole. As the key entered the keyhole without any

resistance, I paused before turning it clockwise. The key just kept turning, and my anxiety grew with

each turn. On the ninth or so revolution, there was a loud clicking sound. I realized then that I had

almost forgotten to breathe, as the breath I held hostage escaped forcefully from my lungs.

I couldn't help but smile at myself, feeling like I had been chosen for something special. My destiny

had finally arrived as the key resisted before yielding its secrets beneath the manhole. I opened the

hidden door and golden light spilled out, warming my skin like a thousand morning kisses from the

sun. Despite my strange behaviour, no one seemed to pay me any attention. I suppose people are

blind to borderline weird and only see things as either weird or normal.

The flood of sensations that rushed through me was unexpected, like a rapture of synapses I never

knew existed. My mind assimilated vast quantities of data, and I even knew pi to the one millionth

decimal point. It was as if the information had always been there, waiting for me to uncover it. With

my mind expanding, I felt like I was at my full potential.

As the golden light dissipated, I found myself in an oval room covered in gold. The floor, walls, and

even the key in my hand shone with a similar golden hue. A gentle voice spoke to me, welcoming

me to Eronga and addressing me by name. I was dumbfounded and tried to ask how she knew me,

but she cut me off.

'You have been chosen as Champion, Maria Kahimba. You alone can stave off the prophesied

calamity that is to befall Eronga.'

I frowned, realizing that I was expected to be a hero in some sort of roleplaying game. Excitement

surged through me as I asked my next question.

"How do you know my name?" I finally managed to ask.

"All of us in Eronga know of you, Maria. We have dreamt your dreams, and we know that there are

few others like you on your world and none like you in ours," Sifeli said with an air of smugness.

"Okay," I said, understanding that I am indeed chosen. Sifeli looked at me expectantly, and I shifted

uncomfortably in the wake of her unwavering gaze and the now-penetrating silence. It was all too

suffocating, so to end the silence and meet expectations, I asked a couple of pertinent questions.

"Who are you? And why the interest in me?"

"I am Sifeli Margo, child of Dan and Sev Margo. They were direct descendants of the great Doctor.

As for the why we are interested in you, it is because you are to be our Champion," Sifeli said, her

pride now fully apparent.

"What does any of that even mean?" I asked, my curiosity growing.

"This way for explanations," Sifeli gestured her arm to an opening in the round golden room that

started to reveal itself. For the first time since arriving in the golden room, I noticed that the girl was

entirely without clothes, and yet, there was no nakedness to be seen, only the hint of womanhood in

the form of bumps that served as a chest.

I was stunned to feel my legs move on their own towards the now-glowing opening with

unconcerned ease. Deep down, a tiny voice was screaming at me to run, to get away from this place as far and as fast as I could, but this was just too freaking exciting for me to run away in fear.

How many chances have I missed in my life because of fear? I asked and answered myself, too

damned many. Soon enough, the voice that was hesitant for me to follow this path vanished

completely as I walked through the glowing opening.

What awaited me on the other side of the glowing opening was the most beautiful view I had ever

seen. I was atop a high mountain peak; it couldn't be a mountain because the peak was on its own,

no other mountainous hills around, only the one peak that I was on. Below me, I saw clouds

hanging to the sides of the peak. So high was I that where I was, I could see the heavens. In its

clear dark sky hung seven luminescent moons and a sun blazing behind me as it rose to greet the

new day. Ahead of us was a bridge that led to the tallest building I had ever seen. The tower was

black, and it was even taller than the peak next to it, the one we were on. The black tower pierced

the sky. Again, I was stunned and asked in a whisper.

"This is Eronga?"

"Only the spire and the land surrounding it for about three hundred thousand stades in each

direction is part of Eronga. To be honest, Maria, 'Eronga is an island within an island within an

island that is on an island,' so the words of the Doctor teach us," Sifeli said with a mischievous grin

on her face as she turned to look back at me.

That doesn't make any sense, love. This is the second time you've mentioned this doctor person.

Who is he?"

"Fortunately, you won't have to wonder much longer. The doctors, descendants of the first Doctor

who created this world, will see you in their theatre and explain everything," Sifeli said, extending

her arm with her palm up. The gesture reminded me of a tutorial scene in a video game. Despite the

unfamiliarity of the situation, my legs moved forward without any tremble. It was as if I was in a cut

scene. My mind was trying to make sense of all the new information flooding in, while my body was

responding as if it had done this routine many times before.

My body was pumping with adrenaline. I recognized the feeling, as it was similar to how I felt before

starting a new game of Dark Souls 2 Scholar of Sin, the most addictive game I've ever played. I

even believed my then-boyfriend broke up with me because I was better than him at a game he

introduced me to. As I looked at my arms for the first time since arriving, I noticed they were

significantly larger than before. My clothes had changed, and I now wore pants made of an

unfamiliar fabric. Touching my belly, I realized I had a six-pack, but my breasts were gone. I had

developed well-defined pecs and realized that coming to this world had made me grow in size and

somehow swapped my gender. Although tempted to look down my pants, I decided that it wasn't the

time for such delicate and important work while walking on a high-rise bridge, kilometres off the

ground.

We arrived at the other side of the bridge and stood at the base of the black tower that extended

past the stratosphere. I gazed up, trying to see the top, but it was futile. The tower's peak seemed to

be swallowed by the sky, as if the sky was running through it. Sifeli placed her hand on a gigantic

golden door, in stark contrast to the black of the tower. The door sighed as she touched it and

became transparent.

Sifeli walked through the doorway, and my body followed on its own. Passing through the

transparent door felt like being sprayed by a garden sprinkler, but there was no wetness.

The room was huge, with a high ceiling. Around the walls were seats, like an amphitheatre. But as I

looked more closely, I saw that this was indeed an amphitheatre, but indoors. The whole thing was

open to the elements, with a weather effect inside. It was like being outside while inside. The sun

shone, and the wind blew, but I could feel none of it. The clouds on the high ceiling swirled, as if

being blown by a gentle breeze. It was some sort of projection.

I stood in the centre of the stage. I was to be their entertainment. Again, this didn't disturb me as

much as it should have. I mean, who doesn't pretend to be a rap star in front of an enthused

audience? I admit these folks, though, weren't the to-be-enthused-type audience of my fantasy.

From their stern faces, they all looked like Einstein. Not the cool Einstein, with the crazy hair and his

death metal tongue, but the version of him that most likely existed in the patent office when he had

to hold down a nine-to-five. Basically, my audience was made up of people with resting-scientist

face. Serious fellows, so to say.

'The Champion Maria Kahimba for your viewing,' announced Sifeli to the crowd of people she called

doctors.

What happened next surprised the shit out of me. The entire amphitheatre erupted into thunderous

applause. What surprised me even more was how long the applause lasted. A standing ovation

before the show even started. A man dressed in a white hybrid of a lab coat and a wizard's cloak

stood up as the applause reached its climax. The man, who surprisingly looked younger than me,

raised his hand slowly, and the applause started to die down.

'Welcome Champion, welcome to the call of destiny. A call that we sent through the empty void, a

call that you heard, and a call that you answered. To prove the predestination of all of this, you,

champion, arrive on the eve of our world's would-be destruction. Welcome, O' great champion, to

your destiny.'

'Uhm… what is this so-called destiny of mine, and how is my coming here predestined?' I asked as

my heart rate started to increase.

'Since this world's inception, there has been a prophecy, one that speaks of a champion that would

journey from a different world to save ours. That is the predestination and destiny we speak of, O'

great Champion.'

'So, what? I'm supposed to save this world? How?' I said as I could feel my confidence and

excitement shrink.

'It is just so, champion. The prophecy says you are destined to save this world.'

'How am I going to do a thing like that? I am just an accountant's clerk. All I do all day is data entry.

I can't save a world,' I said, although mentally I strained. My voice sounded calm enough.

'What you were in your old world has no bearing here. Observe your body, observe your senses,

and see that you have been improved. Your journey to our world has given you a power to exceed

that of a mortal man.' The doctor said this as if making a sales pitch.

'Superpowers, you're talking about superpowers, right?' I asked with renewed interest.

There were chuckles in the amphitheatre at my over-enthusiastic reaction. I blushed a little.

Might we suggest to the great Champion try out his newfound strength in the training centre.

Everyone here has had a hand in sculpting the vessel you now wear, made of the flesh of an elder dragon, with the brain structure of an ethereal slime, and the bone density of a diver whale, as well

as the thick blood and robust organs of a southland giant. We are all excited to see just how you will

perform," said Dr. Coral.

"Splendid idea, Dr. Coral. There are two new Vegaborn types in the pens. They will prove to be

excellent fodder for the great Champion," another man chimed in.

"What the hell is a Vegaborn? Like a homeless guy? You want me to test my might on two

homeless dudes?" the Champion questioned.

There was an awkward silence as the men in white looked at each other as if to ask with their eyes,

"Who is going to tell the idiot?" One of the men coughed, a cough that was clearly fake. It was a

ruse to draw the Champion's attention to him as he explained, "A Vegaborn is a deadly sub-species

of the Nearborn. They are the scourge of this world. They are a failed experiment of our

predecessors intended to be the perfect creature that fills all of nature's ecological niches, feeding

on itself and replenishing itself."

"That explains nothing really, but I guess we should go see this Vegaborn," the Champion said.

As they walked towards the training centre, the Champion observed himself, as the old-young man

had suggested. True observation can only occur when the observer and the observed are separate,

but in the Champion's case, he was totally screwed. There was no way he could observe himself

truly. As he was about to lament his Zen-like conundrum, he felt something. He could feel an intent.

The feeling washed over him like running sewage, and it was so intense that he almost gagged on

it. Silfie's hand fell on his shoulder, and he was able to compose himself somehow, but the feeling

of sewage still clung to his senses like clothes stained with shit.

Suddenly, lines and numbers appeared overlaid on his vision. Focusing on the lines and numbers

brought them to the forefront, superimposing themselves on his mind. He was stunned at how much

sense the figures and diagrams made. He saw a map, and on that map were two blips that

indicated potential threats. They were yellow. Somehow, he knew that once they turned red, the

threat would be active. He entered the training centre hand in hand with Silfie. He didn't even realize

when they did that, and he smiled inwardly, maybe he had a chance. Behind them were twelve of

the men in white. These ones seemed to fit the archetype of a grand wizard perfectly, not KKK

grand wizard, but more Gandalf-type grand wizard. Although he couldn't speak for certain on the

racial tolerance of these folks, as he had not seen any other black person yet, none of them had

commented on his dark skin, so that was a good sign. Silfie was pink, so her presence counted

somehow.

So, these 12 grand wizards were discussing the weather down below and how the locals weren't as

respectful as they ought to be. They talked about how they were once regarded as gods and other

trivial matters. However, I had a feeling that this wasn't a natural conversation that they were

having. They were saying everything within earshot of me for my benefit. I couldn't figure out how

this news was intended to influence me, and since I couldn't find any immediate benefit, I assumed

that the information was misinformation, perhaps meant to cloud my judgement.

'I suggest you put on your armour, champion,' said one of the wizards.

'I agree. Those things seem to be agitated. Where is the fitting room?' asked another.

The grand wizards seemed amused by my question, and it would have annoyed me, had I not seen

an equip icon appear overlaid on my vision. Instinctively, I thought on it, and armour started to congeal itself on my now naked body. The armour suit reminded me of what a Power Ranger would

wear if they were a real, well-equipped military force. My suit was black with blue trimmings. Within

the suit, I could see 360 degrees, and I simultaneously had a bird's-eye view of myself. The

information processed itself neatly within my brain, and I have to say, I wasn't overwhelmed.

I noticed that I had a cache of weapons from the readings, but surely, I didn't have all of them.

Some of those things were nuclear in nature. Suddenly, the yellow dots multiplied by six and turned

red. The red dots started to swarm. From my readings, they were about six meters tall and weighed

about a ton each. How in Midgard's name would I be able to take out these beasts? But for some

reason, reason was absent from my mind as my body moved on its own towards the red dots that

were swarming.

I moved fast. There were a million thoughts going through my head, but the one that rang clearest

was, 'Why the fuck am I doing this?' I mean, I'm no hero, and here I was about to put my life on the

stake. And for what? Some hallucination that I'm having? No way could this actually be real. Yet,

here I was, face to face with what the wizards called the Vegaborn. Knowing the dimensions of a

thing and seeing the thing were two different things. The Vegaborn looked larger than life. More

terrifying than what it looked like, was the smell that made the Vegaborn truly malevolent. I could

barely smell it through my suit, but what filtered through was distinct in its meaning.

It was the smell of a force of evil eager to consume all that was good and pure. The smell was

rancid. I looked around, without having to turn around, and saw that I was being observed by the

grand wizards, albeit from a considerable distance on circular disks. They wanted to see the worth

of what they bought, and I could only smile bitterly at the confirmation. I was to be their weapon of

destiny, summoned here to defeat these grotesque creatures. With little thought, I leaped into action

and equipped a sword. It materialized in my hand, the Sword of Truth. I took aim at the lead

Vegaborn, which looked like a gorilla dipped in tar. Only the tar hadn't hardened enough as some of

it kept dripping off in the monster's wake. My aim was true as I lopped off the head of the lead

monster. In response to seeing their leader's decapitation, the remaining eleven Vegaborns turned

tail and ran.

Not getting away from me that easily," I caught myself thinking, pleased with the chase I was about

to give. However, my pursuit was quickly interrupted by three retreating Vegaborns. A massive fist

came barrelling towards me, leaving me no room to dodge as I took the blow head-on. Surprisingly,

there was no impact, or rather, I couldn't feel it. In response, I sliced the monster in half, watching as

its lower half fell to the ground and the upper half howled in disbelief. Before the other two

Vegaborns could finish their enclosing movement, I sliced diagonally with the Sword of Truth, taking

out the flanking monster, and then thrust my sword through the face of the other charging

Vegaborn. The beasts fell, and I resumed my chase.

Seeing the slaughter of their kin, the remaining eight Vegaborns halted their retreat. They knew I

was their enemy, and their strategy was to face me all at once. However, I was enjoying myself for

the first time in years and was confident that these eight could not even put a dent in me. I halted

my charge, prolonging the fight. The Vegaborns clasped their hands, and blue light started to shine

above their heads as they growled menacingly in a rhythm. I knew this was bad, and despite what

movies suggest, I didn't feel like running, hiding, or putting up defences. Instead, I equipped a

weapon called a Glock Ballista, a massive revolver-like weapon with a mini-canon barrel. I dropped

the Sword of Truth, and the Glock Ballista materialized in my right hand, ready to fire.

As the menacing growling reached its crescendo, I fired eleven shots in succession, moving so fast

that the Vegaborns only heard the single bang of the revolver. All eight remaining Vegaborns fell,

their brains splattered. The gandalfs were in disbelief, and I walked towards them to find out how I did on my first time fighting Vegaborns. The twelve gandalfs cringed as I approached, armed with

the Glock Ballista. But when I dropped the weapon and removed my visor, they calmed down, and I

asked innocently, "So, how did I do?"

The gandalfs mumbled among themselves, and I faked a cough to get their attention. "Well?" I

prompted, still wearing my grin.

"Ahem, well, you see, normally..." one of the Gandalfs started before another jumped in to explain.

"Normally, we just scare off the Vegaborns, and that generally takes a long time."

"What? But why?"

"Escalation. We always feared escalating the situation. The Vegaborn and the Nearborn outnumber

us almost ten thousand to one. If they swarmed us tomorrow, there is no way we could stop them.

Even those eleven that you dispatched in a matter of minutes would have taken us hours to scare

off."

"Good thing I'm here, then."

"Aye, oh great Champion, it is indeed good that you are here," one of the Gandalfs replied.

I was getting irritated with these people, still hyped up on adrenaline, and they were about to start

talking my ear off.

Thank Tolkien that Silfie showed up to take me to my chambers. I told her I wasn't tired, but she

said there was more to do than sleep in a bedroom. My grin widened impossibly by a considerable

degree, and I said nothing except for her to lead the way. As we left the training room, I saw the 12

Gandalfs being joined by the other Einstein types. The young old man was leading the Einsteins as

they walked toward the Gandalfs. Silfie squeezed my hand, and I turned my attention back to her as

I observed the sway of her hips. My attention was fully on her, and I wondered if Silfie would help

me with some certain observations.

"So, what do you say, Davos?"

Before Davos answered, he looked as if he were thinking if he should say all he thinks. From the

man's body language, it could be said that he was trying to be diplomatic as he replied.

"About what, Merlyn? The champion? Well, it's an idiot, but the experiment was a success." Davos

shrugged his shoulders to indicate that it was an expected outcome.

Merlyn seemed to consider the words of Davos. The most ancient of the old ones, it is said in his

youth he worked with the doctor to make this world habitable. The man was old, and new things

generally scared the old. So with a sigh, Merlyn asked his question again, but this time more precise

as customs dictate.

"You witnessed the prowess of the champion relatively close up. We in the observation box were

deeply impressed by the quick dispatch of the vegaborn by the champion. What were your

observations from your vantage down here?"

"It is no warrior, but it took to brutecraft like an old hand. It is indeed intelligent, but because of that,

it will no doubt remain an idiot."

"Not too intelligent, I hope. We need the champion to remain pliable."

"Yes, yes, but not too much. There are things we do not know that are happening down on the

surface. It needs to have a functioning brain if it is going to get rid of the infestation for us."

"Yes, yes. I'm sure the champion will do splendidly on that front. What I want to know is, will the

project be viable?"

"The cost is negligible."

"How negligible?"

"We won't pay the bill. The summoned brings with him the energy from his world and from his old

flesh."

"So the project can finally get the green light."

"Based only on today's trial run, yes."

"Seems you have more to say. Just say it, Davos. We are all children of the doctor, after all."

"Is-yah, as you say, Merlyn. I only have one caution, and it is this: we have given the summoned

powers that even we, the children of the greatest mind who has ever lived, cannot even begin to

fathom. I suggest we keep the rollout of the project as small as we can make it."

"Lest what? You fear they will take us over?"

"Is-Yah, if they are the ones fighting, they may well be the ones to receive all the praise."

Every stakeholder chuckled, all except Merlyn and Davos, who just stared at each other. Merlyn

could see on his senior's face that the man was getting irritated. From the intensity in his eyes,

Merlyn could tell that Davos was serious, and that meant he had the proof to back it up.

"Speak freely, Davos. Why should we be concerned with the how?"

Davos looked at his colleagues, and his irritation was now plain as he responded with a near growl.

"Have you all forgotten the tenet?" Davos was shocked as he saw the blankness on their faces.

"The tenet, you idiots! The source of all the magicka is not from us but from the essences that make

up every entity that dwells in this realm. The magicka flows from their minds and into our bodies and

into our bodiries, through their hopes and dreams powered by their beliefs."

Taking in his fellow stakeholders, he continued, "Now imagine a scenario where the majority below

starts to see the summoned as their leaders, their saviors. Where do you think their magicka will

flow to?"

"From your tone, I suspect you believe that the magicka will flow into the summoned? If so, based

on your very accurate description of the situation, I trust you came up with a solution. Speak it,

Davos."

"Easy, we fight alongside the summoned."