I turn on Lirathel with wide eyes and a snarl. People all around scatter to give us an even wider berth. The shocked and fearful expression on her face disappears very slowly under my glare as she pulls herself together. Her shock is probably the only thing that stops me from retaliating immediately. There’s too much about this situation I still don’t understand.

  Still impossibly sultry and composed, but definitely on the back foot, Lirathel holds up her right hand and takes a quick step back followed by a smaller one. She doesn’t turn or try to run, but I can feel with my Mana Affinity and sense with my Perception that she’s already frantically triggered a large number of defensive Skills. I watch her Mana plummet and feel some of her items activate. She makes no hostile move whatsoever, almost frozen like a deer in headlights. I don’t think it’s a natural posture for the Dreadflame Inquisitor.

  “That… was a mistake,” she says clearly, head tilted in apology. I don’t care where we are, if anything offensive from her hits me it’s going to be war.

  “You’re fucking right it was,” I growl. It’s hard to keep a lid on the anger I’m feeling. There’s a bit of betrayal there too, but I haven’t known her for long enough for it to feel like that. I’m also pissed off at myself for being too naive and trusting. Do I even know if Tenebris sent this bitch at all?

  Guards are rushing toward us as people stream away, but their weapons are stowed and they don’t shout at us or appear as hostile on my minimap. Through my anger I can see them form a perimeter and calmly urge people to leave us as much room as possible.

  Maybe Lirathel was pulling some kind of Ascended prank, or testing me, or a dozen other possibilities that flash through my mind. I decide no matter what it was, we’re through. Just like always, at a less than ideal moment a notification opens up in my vision that I can’t dismiss until I’ve read it.

  The Taskmaster requires your presence.

  Prepare for transport in 100 UTUs.

  “Who the fuck is the Taskmaster?” I ask out loud to no-one in particular, annoyed at the timing and being summoned again. I thought being Ascended Class was all about getting to do whatever the fuck you want whenever you want, and I’m beginning to suspect that’s not the case.

  “No!” cries Lirathel, her eyes flashing, and she feels strongly enough to step toward me, hair flying out behind her like it’s made of flames, then steps back quickly as I snarl and meet her gaze. Words pour out of her mouth.

  “He’s the most powerful being in the Universe! Do not agree to anything. Do not attack him. Get out of there as -”

  Transport initiating.

  I can feel with my Affinity that something forms in dimensional space to lock on to me. So much for being hidden from all my enemies by the most powerful protections in the Universe. It feels different than normal and I trigger Perfect Focus to slow time down so I can explore it. Slowly space all around me is manipulated as the energy seeks to grasp me and pull me through a wormhole, kind of a cross between a true teleport and a Portal. I’m not sure if it’s a Skill or a spell or what it is. Someone else with the same Affinity as me? Something else entirely?

  The energies are strong, very strong, and I play with the leading edges of them as they gradually reach toward me, my view of them slowed down by my Perception and Skill. I manage to unravel one with my Affinities as it approaches me and think I could manage to do the rest and stay here, which gives me some confidence I could leave wherever someone wants me to go if I wanted to. Do I want to? Why am I here with Lirathel anyway? Because she’s hot and she asked me to? It suited what I wanted at the time, but not now. I pull back my Affinity and release Perfect Focus.

  “Fuck you, Lirathel.”

  I twist through space and I’m dumped out onto a polished white floor in a large room. It’s a lot less dignified of an entry than I’m used to when I leap or stride through a Portal, but I’m up on my feet instantly and all my information gathering Attributes and Skills are operating at full tilt, until my mind is immediately overwhelmed and I crash back down to the floor. I’m unable to make sense of anything, including whether I’m alone here in this room or not.

  My Danger Sense and Perception are scrambled. It’s like my senses are being assaulted on all sides. Thoughts are hard to form and the room seems to change size constantly, shifting all around me. With a push of my will I exert both of my Affinities and they respond to help me interpret my surroundings in a way I can understand. It’s like being caught in a maelstrom of Mana and dimensional energy so I trigger Perfect Focus to slow everything down, reducing the mental load.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  I grit my teeth and clench my fists as I stagger back to my feet while I force my Affinities out around me, trying to exert control over my surroundings. I bring my new Class and SMI Evolution to bear and integrate it all together further than I ever have to control the space around me, further even than when I faced off against the Qillathe Syndicate or lay broken at the bottom of the Dungeon to deal with the Dark Mana core.

  I close my eyes and feel it all, everything around me in a few meter radius, then mentally twist with a shove and alter my mind and perception to lock everything around me down into my own domain. My head starts to clear and I know I’m on the right track. I bear down on fucking owning it. I flex my Affinities and own the space around me with an iron will. I weave dimensional forces and Mana together and bring to life a globe around me where everything inside is in my control. The world snaps back into focus.

  “Pretty resilient, aren’t you? Most people take a few minutes to deal with the version of reality that’s in this place,” says a voice. It’s unremarkable except that it sounds in my head as well as out loud, much like Kauran’s, but a hundred times more powerful. Each word seems to resonate within my body and mind, causing me to vibrate. Notifications fly past my vision so quickly I can barely see them even with Perfect Focus activated, which makes it smack me across the face that he’s communicating with me, exactly matching my speed.

  Mental influence resisted

  Crushing Aura resisted

  Supplication Protocol resisted

  Suggestion vulnerability resisted

  More…

  “I’m not trying, but that’s still a bit unfair,” he remarks with a hint of judgement, and now I can orient on where he is, beyond my newly established sphere of influence maybe ten meters. Now that I have it up and running it’s not a strain to keep it active. Even though I don’t really think it will make a difference, I keep Perfect Focus activated to increase my chances of reacting to something.

  The Taskmaster exudes an unsettling combination of elegance, danger, and otherworldly magnetism. Every movement seems to be wrapped in charisma, menace, and unpredictability. His form shifts between humanoid, ethereal, and alien dressed differently each time, but always covered in glowing green runes. When his form has eyes, they’re holographic orbs showing cryptic data streams flying by at high speed. Slowly his form stabilizes into something vaguely human shaped, cloaked in deep shadows other than a powerful right hand that flips a gold, glowing coin between his fingers and claws with the kind of dexterity that’s slightly hypnotizing. I get the feeling he settles on a human form because I’m human, not because there’s anything human about him.

  I try to pull his information with my SMI, but I don’t get much and the round numbers make me wonder if I can trust them at all.

  The Taskmaster (Level 30 Cosmic Dealer) (Unique Ascended)

  Health: 20000/20000

  Mana: 40000/40000

  Conditions: Bargain Bind, Temptation Aura, Task Alteration, Reality Ledger, Shackled Fate, Future Entanglement, Wager of Doom, Crushing Uncertainty, Edge of Promise, Threads of Destiny, Oblivion’s Puppet, Temporal Weave, many more…

  A second passes, stretched out by Perfect Focus into much longer than that, and then he speaks. I can feel the power of the words flow through the Domain I’ve established all around me. Outside it I can still see the room constantly shifting shape. My Dimensional Manipulation Affinity doesn’t have the bandwidth to be able to do what I’m doing and also gather information and learn about what’s going on here. I know instinctively if I even try everything I’ve established around me will collapse and it will be even harder to reestablish.

  “Well, you’ve done your best to find out about me. Now… let’s find out about you,” he says with an enthusiasm and glee that literally shakes me to my very foundation.

  Notifications start flashing up to my vision and I involuntarily send a copy over to the Taskmaster as fast as they appear. I’m not even in control of it in the slightest, no matter how much I try to control the process. It must be one hell of a strong Skill!

  I watch in shock as I realize it’s all of the notifications I’ve ever received, starting with the very first one I got in Quintin Lodge when the Mana Influx hit. They flash by at absurd speed and he ingests them with a combination of wonder, excitement, and studiousness that I somehow can’t look away from. Perhaps his reactions are real and perhaps not. I feel rushed along in currents that are totally under his control.

  All the kill and Leveling notifications from Holgaad flash by, as well as the notifications about gaining my Dimensional Manipulation Affinity, and The Taskmaster ingests them. He doesn’t stop until he reaches today, breezing through everything including my SMI Evolution and my Dark Mana Class. He knows everything about me that’s contained in those notifications, and it’s a bloody big chunk there’s no question. I imagine this is something like what the experience might be when you die if God is real and your every action is absorbed and reviewed. I find I don’t like it.

  “God-like, isn’t it?” he asks with a smile in a way that makes me wonder if he’s completely unhinged. “Except, God doesn’t actually tell you what to do with your time… does he?”

  When I don’t answer The Taskmaster pauses and tilts his head. “Does he?” he asks with wide eyes, as if contemplating that I might be about to break some massive news to him.

  “Why am I here?” I ask, and The Taskmaster lights up.

  “It speaks!” he declares.