Chapter Twenty: Friends my age?

"William, how old are you?" Mara asked him. "A kid your age should be interacting with people your age, not just us old people and levi."

"Well im… I'm not actually sure when i came into this world i was seventeen and people agree that it's been two years so i'll place myself around nineteen i guess."

Mara nodded and gave a small smile that showed her dimples. "That's good there's a few groups you can join an art club, dance, music something to take your mind of" She waved around wildly "This whole debacle we've found ourselves in." 

Seeing Williams' blank expression she quickly stated " There's also a challenger club where people go to rank up if you're interested as well. From what I heard they go out slay monsters in order to reach the next cycle." She then stopped talking and looking at William expectantly.

William thought it over…

"Okay… i'll think i'll go to art club and the challenger club" He paused and decided to inform Mara about something personal. " Before we were transported here I wanted to be an artist and a poet slash fantasy author. I just found something?"

Mara's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Oh? What did you find?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

William hesitated for a moment, then exhaled. "I found that I still want to create, even in a world like this. It's strange, isn't it? With everything going on, with everything I've done, I still feel that pull. Like, if I can just put something on paper, maybe it'll make sense. Maybe I can make sense of myself."

Mara's smile softened. "That's not strange at all. I think that means you're still holding onto who you are. Even if everything else changes, even if this world keeps trying to shape us into something else, you're still you."

William looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just desperate to remember what being human felt like."

Mara placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Then hold onto it. Let art be your anchor. And who knows? Maybe you'll find others who understand that feeling."

William gave a small, hesitant nod. "Yeah. Maybe."

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The following day, William found himself in the art room, surrounded by a dozen or so people all engrossed in their own creative processes. 

"Hey, new guy!" a voice called from across the room. "You just gonna stand there, or are you actually here to draw?"

William stiffened, startled. The room seemed to pause for a moment, all eyes flicking toward him—some curious, others indifferent. He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of their attention on him. His throat went dry.

"Uh, yeah. I'm here to draw," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Then come sit before you make it weird," the girl teased, giving him a lazy wave.

William hesitated for a moment, then forced himself to move. He sat at the farthest end of the table, far from the others, but still feeling their eyes on him. They went back to their work, but the occasional glance in his direction still made him self-conscious.

He picked up a piece of charcoal and stared at the blank paper in front of him. What was he supposed to draw? His mind was blank—just like the page. He hadn't drawn in so long. Not since...

"You look like you just got dropped into another dimension," someone said from beside him.

William turned slightly. A guy around his age, wearing a paint-streaked hoodie, leaned back in his chair, studying him. "First time?" he asked, a smirk tugging at his lips.

William gave a small nod. "Yeah."

"Figured. You look like a deer in headlights."

William tried to force a chuckle, but it came out more like a cough. "Not used to... this."

"Being around people?" the guy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," William muttered, his fingers absently drawing circles on the paper. They looked more like misshapen potatoes than anything else.

The guy stared at him for a second, clearly sizing him up. "Still... two months out there? How the hell did you make it?"

William stiffened at the sudden change in the conversation. "I hid mostly. Like a hyena. I scavenged and hunted weak animals when I could. Third partied on a lot of fights. Fortunately, I've got this... ability. Makes people avoid me."

The guy's expression shifted, a mix of confusion and concern crossing his face. "That's... insane. Most people don't last that long, especially outside the Safe Zone. What cycle even are you?"

"Cycle ten," William answered, his voice quieter now. "I was chosen two months ago."

The guy blinked, leaning back in his chair, his eyes wide. "Damn. You're... you're in cycle ten?" He shook his head slowly, clearly impressed. "That's... something."

William said nothing, but his mind was racing. He wasn't used to being asked about the Catalyst cycles. Not like this. It made him uncomfortable, but he couldn't explain why.

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"You said you wanted to rank up, right?" Royce asked, leading William toward a wooden table near the back. Royce fished a worn piece of parchment from his pocket and unfolded it with a practiced motion, smoothing out the creases before laying it flat on the table.

William glanced down at the parchment. It wasn't the sleek digital interface he was used to from the Catalyst's system, but rather an old-fashioned list of names, handwritten in rough ink. He studied the first few lines carefully.

At the top, under Cycle Seven, only three names were listed:

Mason – Last seen heading to the Tower to Heaven (Presumed Dead) Sienna – Slain during the Great Magi Invasion Royce– Active

William looked up. "You're the only Cycle Seven left?"

"That's right," Royce said, his tone casual, though a shadow of something darker lingered in his eyes. "Mason thought he was strong enough for the Tower. Never came back. Sienna? She went down swinging when the Magi invaded. And me? I'm still here."

William's eyes flicked back to the list. No names were listed above Cycle Seven. He'd heard of some making it to Six, but no one had ever broken past that threshold.

Royce tapped a spot further down on the list, where dozens of names were scribbled under Cycle Ten, the starting point. "If you're serious about climbing, you've got a long way to go," he said, glancing at William with an expression that was both challenging and knowing. "A Cycle Ten has to kill 1,000 Magi to ascend to Nine. A Nine needs 2,000 to reach Eight. Then 4,000 for Seven. It doubles every time."

William frowned, processing the numbers. "That means a Cycle Seven had to kill..." He trailed off, doing the math in his head. "1,000 plus 2,000 plus 4,000..." He paused, his brow furrowing in concentration. "31,000 Magi?"

Royce nodded, his gaze sharp. "Keep going. 8,000 for Six. 16,000 for Five. And if anyone ever reached Four? They'd need 32,000 kills just to make that one jump alone."

William's fingers curled against the wood of the table. "That's... insane."

"Now you're getting it," Royce said, his voice low. "That's why there's only ever been three of us. No one's made it past Seven. Ever."

William glanced at his own mark. His kill count sat at zero. He had a long, long way to go.

Something gnawed at him. "You keep saying 'Magi.' Why not just call them what they are—beasts, monsters?"

Royce's lips twisted into a smirk. "Been trying to coin the term. 'Monsters' are too vague, and calling them 'beasts' makes 'em sound like dumb animals. Magi aren't dumb. They adapt. They hunt. Some of them even seem to plan." His expression darkened. "They're not just predators. They're the enemy."

William stood silently for a moment, his thoughts racing. The weight of the numbers, the challenges ahead, the creatures they'd have to face—it was all overwhelming. But one thing was clear: if he wanted to survive, if he wanted to climb higher than Cycle Ten, he would have to fight, and he would have to do it with everything he had.

"Alright," William said, finally meeting Royce's gaze. "I'm in. I'll fight. I'll rank up."

Royce's grin stretched wider. "Good. Let's see what you're made of."

As they walked toward the next area, Royce's expression shifted, becoming more businesslike.

"So, what class are you?" he asked, his voice low. "And what abilities do you have? We need to figure out who to partner you with."

William blinked, his throat dry. The truth about his class felt strange, even to him. He'd never encountered anyone with a similar title. Finally, he spoke.

"I'm a... Lich King."

Royce stopped in his tracks, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "Lich King? Never heard of that class before," he muttered, his voice filled with disbelief. He leaned in closer, narrowing his eyes. 

"So what did you eat to form that core just in case we want others to be lich kings?"

"Oh i killed a wendigo"

"Well that's odd they don't have any abilities to manipulate the dead"

"This one was odd; it had little minions it summoned. I think it was its victims" William lied he didn't know why he was a Cannibal Lich King. By technical reasoning one could assume he would have the class of cannibal. Maybe the fact he came back from the grave made him the Lich King part.

Royce nodded " At least you didn't get cannibal that would have been crazy im not sure if that's what it would have given you. But since Class are based on the first Magi you've eaten and since wendigos are known to eat people I guess that you'd get something like that. That would make it really hard to function at all."

"Yeah i guess it would" William on the outside was fine but on the inside he was panicking. Now why did this dude already guessed the truth, sure it's obvious that he should be a cannibal. Why did he even say wendigo? He could have said literally anything else. And he wouldn't be in such a predicament. 

Pulling out another piece of paper and pen he handed it to william "I'll be back in thirty minutes i have a meeting to attend to while i'm gone write your abilities and flaw. Have fun!" Waving as he quickly left. 

"Oh we have a lie detector so don't try lying."

William was left by himself in the room. He thought to himself "Ah shit, fuck, damn… Is it really a lie if I don't explain all the info? Half truths do exist after all I'm just not giving the full details!

William

True Name: Harbinger of Famine

Class: Lich King

Class Rank: Divine

Cycle: 10

Description:"You are an abomination that defies the natural order of both life and death. A mockery of the cycle that should have been, yet you persist. Not even the most powerful beings, not even I, would have allowed you to exist if they could have prevented it. You are a creature of death—a Lich King, bound in eternal undeath—but unlike others of your kind, you carry within you the remnants of humanity, the essence of a soul unwilling to surrender to oblivion. 

Attributes:

Eidetic Kinesthesia: "You have the ability to memorize and mimic any form of movement as soon as you lay eyes on it. This gives you the reflexes of any master, whether it's fighting, running, or other physical feats."

Monarch Beyond the Grave: "Even among the dead, there is a hierarchy. You are the monarch of the living dead. All undead follow your commands without question. Hostile undead are suppressed innately by the nature of your regal presence."

Philanctory:True immortality is a lie, but you have found a way to defy oblivion. By binding your soul to a vessel of your choosing, you ensure that death is not the end—at least, not immediately. Should your body perish, your soul will return to the phylactery, allowing you to reform anew. However, this comes at a cost. If your phylactery is ever destroyed, your existence will be erased completely, along with all memories, power, and influence you once held. The difference between your flaw and your ability Philanctory is this. When you die without Philanctory you forget all your memories except the parts of your life burned into the core of your soul.

Using Philanctory allows you to keep your memories when you die but if it's destroyed you die for good. I don't suggest using this ability.

Frostborne – Naturally thrives in extreme cold, resistant to freezing temperatures. Can exude an aura of frost, chilling the air around it. Gives a minor frost affinity.

Dread Presence – Instinctively radiates an aura of fear, paralyzing or unsettling those nearby. The effect intensifies with proximity.

Deception- You can transform into any living being you've seen.

Flaw: Eternal Hunger: "To live forever, one must forget. Your immortality is imperfect. Every time you suffer fatal wounds and die, you lose a part of yourself until nothing remains but a shell of your former self.

Nodding to himself he put the paper down and laid his hand down.

____________________________________________________________________________

William stared at the list for a moment before setting the pen down. It was good enough.

A few minutes passed before Royce returned, stepping into the room with an easy confidence. He took the paper from William's hands and scanned it quickly, nodding as he read.

"Looks solid," Royce said, giving a satisfied hum. "Not gonna lie, man, your class is insane. Most people don't start with a Divine rank class. Even at Cycle Seven, I'm only sitting at Epic."

William said nothing, watching Royce's expression carefully. The older boy didn't seem suspicious—just impressed. That was good. That meant the half-truths worked.

"So, how's this gonna work?" William asked. "I just… start going on missions and ranking up?"

Royce smirked. "Something like that. You'll be put in a squad with other newbies trying to make a name for themselves. You'll need to work as a unit, build up your rep, and—" He gestured to the paper. "—start racking up those Magi kills. But since you're rocking a Divine class, people are gonna have high expectations."

William frowned. "I don't really care about expectations."

Royce laughed. "You will when people start challenging you. That's how it works around here. You prove your strength, or someone else tries to take your spot."

That was annoying. William didn't want attention. He didn't want people testing him, pushing him to reveal more than he was comfortable with. But this was the world now.

"Fine," he muttered. "Who's on my team?"

Royce grinned, tapping the list again. "Come on, I'll introduce you."

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They walked through the Safe Zone, past groups of people training, trading supplies, or discussing upcoming missions. William could feel eyes on him—some curious, some wary. The rumors were already spreading.

By the time they reached a small, dimly lit training hall, Royce pushed open the door and gestured inside. "Welcome to your new squad."

Inside, three boys sat around a weapons rack, all looking up as they entered.

The first was a black teen with broad shoulders and a quiet, steady presence. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, giving William a slow once-over he had cornrows. "You're new, too?"

The second was an Asian guy with messy wavy black hair, idly flipping a knife between his fingers. His sharp, narrow eyes studied William before he snorted. "Finally. I was starting to think they forgot about us."

The third was a Hispanic boy with shaggy 3c curly black hair, half-sitting on a crate. He gave a lazy grin. "No way. They actually put us in a team?" He stretched. "Took 'em long enough."

Royce clapped a hand on William's shoulder. "Yeah, yeah. You all applied a week ago, but forming a squad takes time. Someone's gotta approve it. Guess today's your lucky day."

The black teen nodded. "Darius."

The Asian one twirled his knife before catching it. "Lex."

The Hispanic one leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Santiago."

William hesitated before sighing. "William."

Santiago's grin widened. "Well, William, welcome to whatever mess we just got ourselves into."