Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School

Main Gate. Crownlands Herald-Town of Elaseer, Transgracia.

25 Minutes and 47 Seconds remaining

Emma Booker

I knew that things would pick up in intensity the moment I entered the town. I understood that there was no time for caution, and no opportunity for pause. I even had the EVI running at full blast, directing the three drones above the town to make sure I had as much situational awareness as possible as I exited the microcosm of gentrification that was the carriage, and stepped into the real world for the very first time.

Yet no amount of preparation or focus was enough to prepare me for what I was immediately thrust into.

Because everything assaulted me all at once.

From the brilliant display of lights that gave the main street this almost picturesque look befitting of a fantasy-themed hallmark card, to the hundreds upon hundreds of conversations happening all at once across the entire breadth of the street, through to the gates, and all the way down each and every sidestreet and alleyway… this place both looked and felt alive.

I felt a brief pang of homesickness even, as part of me felt almost at home with the crowds going every which way. Each person living their own lives, going about their own days, each with their own story to tell.

Yet that sense of familiarity was tempered by the obviously fantastical elements of the place. From the constant and distinct clanging of metal on metal from what I assumed was the blacksmiths that dotted the street, to the faces of each and every passerby that was most certainly not human, there was no doubt about where I was.

It was at that point that it finally hit me, a realization that had been left hanging in the midst of the overstimulation of both sights and sounds from the town, and the assault of battlenet notifications from the EVI.

I was actually outside for the very first time. This was the first time I was actually seeing the Nexus for what it actually was, beyond the political machinations of the elite, beyond the busy bodying of the ruling powers…

This was what life was actually like.

This was the true face of the Nexus.

And this was what was actually at stake.

We were no longer talking about the destruction of some cushy office somewhere within the maze that was the castle, or some souped up lab with priceless artifacts belonging to the Crown or the nobility, but a place where honest to god regular people spent their day to day. People who were completely oblivious and removed from whatever their so-called ‘betters’ were doing up behind the Academy’s walls, hundreds of feet above their heads.

This only served to fuel my determination

It only added another layer of gut-churning anxiety to beat the clock before it was too late.

[Alert: Target location confirmed. Alert: Local area map scanned and digitized to 72.92% completion, suitable for navigation. Alert: Fastest route to target location plotted…]

[Alert: Begin nav-assisted pathfinding Y/N?]

“Yes, and try to make sure we use less congested routes, because we’re going to be using exoskel-speed-assist.”

“Affirmative Cadet Emma Booker.”

“Let’s fucking go.”

“Can I talk to you about something else, Auntie Ran?”

“If this is another question about that Medal of Sol game they based loosely around my exploits, then I promise you I’ll be tripling the number of chilies in tonight’s curry-”

“No, no. I mean, kinda? There’s a level in the Jovian campaign that I’ve been really struggling with. It’s the part where instead of just jumping, shooting, and grappling-”

I remember my aunt visibly shuddering at any mention of that word.

“-you’re instead actually tasked with doing other stuff, like uhh reactor defusal while also shooting enemies at the same time still. There was a timer for this map, and that’s what I felt was really unfair cuz the timer doesn’t change even if you switch difficulties. It just changes the number of enemies, and it’s just really hard. I was wondering if that was actually what it was like and if you think that it was like, accurate and stuff?”

It was rare for me to see my aunt actually pausing anything she was doing. When she was committed to a job, she was impossible to stop, even if it meant leaving the door unanswered for entire minutes, or the phone ringing for hours on end. I remembered that this was one of the only moments she took the time to actually stop cooking, to put both the wok and the spatula down, even if it was only for a few short minutes to carefully consider my question.

She didn’t even outright dismiss it or call it out for what it was: a dumb question by what was at the time, a dumb kid.

Which I remember made me extremely anxious, and that much more surprised and taken aback when she finally did respond with something completely unexpected.

“Yes, that’s accurate. Because if there’s one thing you can take from that map, Emma, it’s that while you could argue real life does have an easy, medium, and hard mode, that there’s one thing that’s the same across every mode… and that’s time. You can’t control time, and no matter who you are or where you are, whether you’re the First Commander, or a freshly minted ensign, you can’t stop time. You can only do your best to make sure you finish whatever that needs to be done within whatever time limit’s been imposed on you. Do you understand me, Emma?”

It was in those rare few moments that I both understood, but didn’t at the same time. I thought I knew what she meant, but it was one of those lessons that only became more and more relevant with age and experience.

“Yes Auntie Ran, I understand.”

It was definitely more relevant now, than ever before.

“Oh, and Emma?”

“Yeah?”

“Did they just have you shooting bad guys and defusing the reactor in that level?”

“Yeah, and solving minigame puzzles, why?”

“There was no escort mission? No evacuating civvies? No crisis management or collateral mitigation?”

“No?”

“Heh. So much for their commitment to realism, because that’s half of the real life campaign thrown right out the window. Because in real life, you’re not just sitting there worried about you and your friends getting blown up… it’s everyone else as well you have to be worried about. And it’s them that you have to protect, that’s the whole point of the job after all. Think about that for a bit before you sign up. Oh, and pass me the chilies. Gotta get back to cooking, else the food burns.”

“You mean the chili-jam?”

“Where the hell did you get that? Get that out of my face before you disgrace this whole family with that nonsense.”

Warehouse District (?). Crownlands Herald-Town of Elaseer, Transgracia.

10 Minutes and 47 Seconds remaining

Emma Booker

My aunt’s words couldn’t have held more weight if she’d tried, because here even an entire reality away, they still rang clear and true.

FWOOOOOM!

“Watch it!”

“Fish still fresh! Come and- WOAH!”

“EEK! My dress!”

“HEY! This district prohibits speed enhancements!”

“My cabbages!”

My seemingly endless sprint across the entire length of the town, coming at the cost of several speed-code violations and a cabbage peddler's cart, had finally brought me to the source of the signal. Which, thankfully, wasn’t anywhere near the rows upon rows of tightly packed houses or lively streets and alleyways that I’d encountered on my way here. In fact, this entire part of town seemed to be a bit disconnected from the rest, separated by one of the many streams that flowed from the massive lake, criss-crossing and cutting through the town, creating little neighborhoods, districts, and boroughs. This specific ‘district’ gave me warehouse district vibes, because that seems to be exactly what it was. An entire section of town with rows upon rows of almost identical warehouses.

To be honest, it didn’t quite fit the ye olde time aesthetic I’d envisioned from the rest of town. In fact, it gave me a bit of a Victorian chic industrial vibe, what with the bare metal frames and thick layered bricks that made up its walls. There was little, if any architectural flare here, only what seemed to be a series of artificed devices that adorned key points like the doors, windows, and what looked like ventilation ducts that ducked and weaved across the whole roof.

Aesthetics aside, the drones above quickly narrowed down the particular warehouse in question, which led me across several smaller canals until I was met with one of the few warehouses with any signs of life within it. It was the only one in a one block radius with the lights on, after all.

This theory was proven as the battlenet systems quickly compiled a veritable list of unknown contacts all across the perimeter of the warehouse.

My first thought was armed guards, perhaps even more of the Academy’s gargoyles or something.

I couldn't be further from the truth however as instead of a laundry list of combatants, I was met with snapshot after snapshot of what looked to be unarmed civilians. Many were dressed in overalls, whilst many more wore a simple tunic and what seemed to pass as pants around here.

There were civilians in the AO.

This complicated matters even further.

“EVI, I want a total headcount of everyone within and around the warehouse. I want infil-bots in the warehouse stat. Give me a live-feed of everything inside of that warehouse. Get everything inside and out active-monitor’d asap. Full throttle, use everything we have.”

“Acknowledged Cadet Booker, deploying all available primary surveillance units.”

[INFIL-DRONE01… DEPLOYED]

[INFIL-DRONE02… DEPLOYED]

[INFIL-DRONE03… DEPLOYED]

[INFIL-DRONE04… DEPLOYED]

[INFIL-DRONE05… UNABLE TO DEPLOY. CAUSE: ASSET SAFEGUARD MEASURES. QUERY: OPERATOR EMERGENCY OVERRIDE Y/N?]

“No.” I responded quickly. “Brass is right, deploying everything all at once is a hasty move. We need to keep some in reserve just in case. Just work with what we have.”

“Acknowledged Cadet Booker.”

I could practically feel the fatigue oozing from the EVI’s tone of voice, or at least, that’s what I would’ve expected if the EVI was a full-on AI. Because right now, I was pushing it to its absolute limits.

With Battlenet running at full throttle, and each of the drones tasked with wildly different operations, I was giving the EVI’s limited hardware the stress test of its life.

Data had begun piling onto the HUD just seconds after I’d given my order. Civvie after civvie contact was assigned an alphanumeric tag, an active blip on the mini-map, and lastly… a face. That last part felt like a gut punch as I saw snapshot after unflattering snapshot of elves, cat people, bear people, and every other imaginable race possible all cataloged and documented.

Each of them were going about their own lives, lives which could be cut short at a moment’s notice.

Seconds later, a live feed of the warehouse was soon relayed to me. Given my close proximity, the infil-drones were more than capable of broadcasting the signal without any issue. It was here that I had front row seats to a narrowing down of the crate’s precise location, and the individuals present immediately around it.

And out of the three people I saw, only one gave me a genuine pause for concern as my whole body clenched up in a fit of pure and unadulterated tension.

Rila.

Shock and panic soon gave way to a more focused frame of mind as I began pouring over the live footage. Given everything was running by-the-second, each play-by-play not being at all filtered by the EVI, it took a while before everything was in frame, and the other players around the crate became increasingly more visible.

Zooming out, Mal’tory was quickly identified. The IFF logging him as ‘friendly’ again, which I immediately overrid to ‘hostile’ without a moment’s hesitation. “And keep it that way.” I hissed back to the EVI as the camera continued to pan around the room.

The black-robed professor was standing idly by the crate, which looked visibly dented and blackened, with Rila standing between him and what was clearly the crownlands-hired Lartia.

His little magical carriage soon entered the frame too, as did one of the carts it was pulling. The back of the cart opened to reveal an impossibly large storage unit several orders of magnitude larger than the space it was in.

It all became clear to me now, what all of this was about. What Mal’tory’s aims were, and why Lartia was even here in the first place.

Audio data filtering through, quickly confirmed my suspicions.

Lartia’s voice came through first, as boisterous and stuck-up as I’d remembered it a half hour ago. “It behooves the black-robed of the Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts to understand that such a request must be reciprocated in a manner that best reflects the inconvenience this causes the Lartia House.” The man began, speaking in this weird, almost third person sort of speech that just flat-out irritated me.

“Yes, yes. Monetary compensation has already been discussed and approved via the Academy’s Repositories through the Crownlands Accounts, into your Royal Warrant, Lord Lartia.” Mal’tory spoke in the same neutral, bored monotone he continually carried himself with.

“Oh, but of course Professor Mal’tory. That is to be expected. However, given the speed and urgency by which the Lartia house has responded to your requests…” The man began trailing off, his hand gliding playfully over the battered and dented crate, blackened soot from the crate’s exterior discoloring the pure white of his gloves. “... there is a certain inconvenience that has been incurred that cannot be understated. An inconvenience that should be corrected, lest the black-robed office now deem the resolution of inconveniences to a fellow member of peerage to be a matter beneath them?”

“It would behoove the holder of the Royal Warrant to understand that any words spoken with the intent of undermining the black-robed office to be a direct insult to the legacy of this royal office, and by extension, His Eternal Majesty himself.” Mal’tory spoke clearly, sternly even. “This inconvenience I have incurred will be corrected, Lord Lartia.” The man took a moment to grab something from his cloak, what looked to be an ornate case, that the man opened to reveal a glowing crystal.

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 750% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

One that sparked a mana-radiation warning all the way from where I was standing.

“You have my word.”

“Hmm, yes, an Academy gift. This is a start.” Lartia spoke in an uncharacteristically succinct manner, grabbing the ornate case, before handing it off to Rila who promptly walked off with it into one of the wagons. “With that being said-”

“Lord Lartia, as much as I would wish to entertain further discussion, I am afraid the matter of this urgent request must take precedence over polite conversation. As the issuer of your Royal Warrant, I must urge you to complete your task, post-haste.”

A soft pause soon followed, as Lartia’s expressions shifted from that facade of politeness to one that was strikingly more predatorial. His ‘soft’ eyes sharpened, as did his features that shifted from a haughtier, polite noble, to something that more resembled a shrewd businessman.

“Is this your official order, Professor Mal’tory?”

“It is, Lord Lartia.”

With a second of tense silence, the man simply shrugged.

“I do not understand what can be so urgent about this entire affair.” Lartia spoke dismissively, before patting down the crate with his gloved hand, sending a small puff of soot into the air. “What can be so urgent about the contents of this box, Professor Mal’tory?” He continued, in a tone that felt more genuine than the over-the-top exchange just a few moments ago.

“This is an internal matter, Lord Lartia.” Mal’tory replied without a moment’s hesitation. “Suffice it to say I need you to make haste with this. The contents within are none of your concern.”

“Yet they are still yours.” The man narrowed his eyes at Mal’tory.

“For now.” The man quickly grabbed what seemed to be a large piece of parchment, handing it to Lartia. “I have informed the town guard to allow you passage through the emergency channels, this should lead you to the South Gate, where a lesser known warrant-exclusive transportium is located. Permission has already been granted to allow the holder of the warrant to cross through this portal. This should hasten your travel time immensely. The transportium route should see you arriving at the courtyard of the Royal Academy for the Magical Arts. There, you must hand the Acting Proctor this letter.”

“At which point the contents of this box shall no longer be of your concern.” Lartia’s eyes narrowed even further.

“Just as the contents are not of your concern, Lord Lartia.” Mal’tory paused, pointing at a particular part of the oversized parchment. “You have my word that all the Expectant Courtesies of a Royal Courier will be extended. There shall be nothing to lose but all to gain from this warrant, Lord Lartia.”

So that’s his fucking game.

“I’ve heard enough. EVI, any other contacts inside of the warehouse?”

“Negative Cadet Booker, sensors only register three contacts, confirmed by visual readings.”

“Alright.” I took a deep breath, my eyes darting back and forth on all of the data being actively relayed to the HUD. My focus kept shifting between the bird’s eye view of the entire warehouse, with 32 blips accounting for all of the civvies scattered around, and the continually developing situation within its brick and mortar confines. “I have a plan.”

“EVI, how thick are those warehouse walls?”

“Approximately 7.23 inches, Cadet Booker.”

“Acoustic properties? Do you think a good 70 to 90 decibels can penetrate it?”

“Unlikely, Cadet Booker. Unknown acoustic dampening properties detected within the walls, in addition to the physical thickness, will be more than likely to prevent sounds of that range from being audible within.”

“Good. Now, EVI, how good were the audio recordings of our encounter with that beast?”

“Within acceptable high-fidelity limits, Cadet Booker.”

“And how quickly can you isolate its roars to broadcast via speakers using the drones?”

“Audio isolation has already been completed, Cadet Booker.”

“Alright. Remind me to thank Lartia for his sweet intel on the town’s awareness of that werebeast. Let’s perform some collateral mitigation.”

Warehouse District (?). Crownlands Herald-Town of Elaseer, Transgracia.

5 Minutes and 47 Seconds remaining

Emma Booker

Several things began happening at once.

“ROAAAR! ROAAAAARRRRRR!!”

Starting with a loud, heart-stopping beastly roar that resonated throughout a one-block radius of the warehouse. The desired effects were seen almost immediately, as all 32 souls began booking it out of there, dropping whatever they were doing and fleeing the scene.

One even jumped into the stream separating the main bulk of the town from the warehouse district, the fish-man taking his chances in the water, choosing to swim to the other side of the shore instead of booking it on foot with the rest of his coworkers.

That whole operation took a total of 90 seconds, most of it down to waiting for the civvies to book it out of the AO on foot. This left barely four minutes on the clock… but four minutes was all I needed to enact the next phase of the operation.

Grappling up to the roof of a neighboring warehouse, I began steadying myself, planting my two feet on its relatively solid outcropping.

The plan was simple. The time for talks had long since passed, and the ship that was diplomacy had already set sail.

If these idiots wouldn’t listen to reason, I’d force my way in to stop their demise myself. Which meant slamming my way into that warehouse, gunning for that crate.

The frustration at trying to save these idiots from themselves was probably how my mom felt when I kept trying to lick antifreeze because it looked like blueberry freezies.

“EVI.”

“Yes Cadet Booker?”

“All systems ready?”

“Yes, Cadet Booker.”

“Alright, keep our aim straight for that crate, let’s get this thing done.”

With a deep breath, and a physical nod, I pushed hard on both of my armored boots. The powered exoskeleton enhanced the strength of my leap by orders of magnitude, and with a little help from gravity, I felt the world whizz by me as I descended fast towards that warehouse, my momentum only momentarily halted by those brick walls which gave way easily enough with a satisfying crumble. The force of impact didn’t stop me, as I carried through the rest of the way with what speed and momentum remained.

Time slowed to a complete and utter crawl as I made it past the layers of brick and entered the warehouse proper.

I could just about make out the reactions of the three, as they watched as this seven foot tall monstrosity clad in armor with glowing red eyes crashed their little party through the walls of the warehouse.

Shock, confusion, disbelief, all of that was present in the eyes of the Royal courier, as well as his aide that looked just about ready to reject reality.

Mal’tory however, whilst having turned around enough for me to see the look of sheer and utter shock in his face, acted quickly.

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 500% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

A series of glowing, green and gray translucent ‘walls’ were erected between me and him, walls which did literally nothing to slow my descent.

Next, a series of similarly green and gray manacles emerged from thin air, aimed for my limbs, only to be completely neutralized on impact.

Finally, Lartia responded, grabbing what seemed to be a decorative pen from one of his pouches, aiming it straight at me.

A flurry of tendrils shot out, similar to the restraints Sorecar had tried to use on me to demonstrate what would happen when a mana-based restraint system was used against a mana-less being in a mana-resistant suit.

The results were almost exactly the same, as the tendrils all but dissipated or fell limply to the ground, the moment they made contact with my armor.

All of this happened in the span of a few seconds, as I landed just 10 feet short of the crate, my adrenaline-fueled muscles poised to close the gap.

I felt my whole body leaping forward, just as it did in Mal’tory’s office. But just before I felt myself lifting off the ground, something stopped me.

[Proximity Alert!]

The solid cobblestone ground beneath me suddenly lifted up, reaching all the way up to just about the lip of my helmet, before clamping down on me hard like some venus flytrap made out of solid concrete. A fraction of a second later, I found myself pulled into the ground, my whole body sinking into the floor of the warehouse, leaving just my head exposed above the ground.

I began struggling, thrashing against the concrete-cobblestone, which did give way and crumble, allowing me to gain purchase quickly.

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 500% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

But just as easily as I gained purchase, so too did I lose any and all progress as the space I cleared up just kept getting filled back up, hardening, solidifying, before once again being crushed by the strength of my armor.

It was an exercise in futility, the trap just kept reforming quicker than I could break it.

“So that’s where you went.” Mal’tory spoke under a strained, annoyed breath.

“I’m assuming this one is one of yours?” Lartia quickly addressed the black-robed professor, who simply nodded in response.

“She’s a troublesome one, as you have clearly seen.” They began shifting the conversation amongst each other, which prompted me to bump my speakers up to the max to overpower their little conversations.

“Lord Lartia.” I immediately circumvented Mal’tory, going straight to the more pliable, less informed member of the party. “Do you have any idea what’s inside that crate?”

“I don’t see how any of this is your conce-”

“Because it belongs to me, and let me tell you right now, we have less than a handful of minutes before what’s inside there kills all of you.” My eyes quickly locked onto the terrified Rila, who stood just feet away from Lartia. “And as much as your black-robe has screwed me over, I’m not about ready to let you die because of your own ignorance. Lord Lartia, there’s a bomb inside of that crate. An explosive, an artifice designed to cause a deadly reaction that can kill. And it’s clear Mal’tory here wants you to take it off his hands, and into the hands of some poor fool so that he doesn’t have to deal with the mess he’s caused.” I spoke at a rapid-fire pace.

This prompted the man to turn his attention straight towards Mal’tory, who craned his head back and forth between me and Lartia.

“Professor Mal’torry? Is this true-”

“Are you honestly going to listen to the deranged ramblings of a savage lunatic, Lord Lartia?” The black-robed shot back with a hiss.

“Savage, yes. Deranged, perhaps. But the girl…” The man grimaced. “... As much as she’s lacking in civility, has proven herself forthright thus far.”

“You’re talking like you know the girl, Lord Lartia.”

“In fact I do. I encountered her in the forest, and up to this point she has demonstrated nothing but a tendency to be forthright… much to her detriment. Why, she even acknowledged being a commoner when I’d offered her an alternative narrative. Whilst that may be detrimental to her as a civilized member of society, that speaks leagues to the content of her character. Now, Professor, tell me about-”

“Enough!” Mal’tory interjected with a loud, resonant shout, the first time I’d seen him lose his temper. “The time for polite conversation is over, Lord Lartia. As the issuer of your Royal Warrant, I order you to leave with this crate. Now.”

“And as the Royal Courier, I have an obligation to review the contents of any package, provided I have reasonable cause for concern that it may be a danger to me or my holdings.” The man retorted simply, which prompted Mal’tory to step forward, stopping Lartia in his tracks.

“The contents within are an internal matter between the Academies.”

“And as I’ve stated, I hold the right for a thorough investigation as per the integrity of my station and peerage.”

The back and forths wouldn’t stop, and if I wasn’t able to get out of this concrete slushy to stop the crate in time… there was at least one person here that I still needed to save.

“Rila! Get the hell out of here now! Please!” I shouted desperately, eliciting Lartia’s attention as he momentarily regarded Rila with a dour scowl.

“Lartia-Siv, remain calm, the savage commoner may be truthful yet; but there is no reason to stoop down to hysterics. Remain by my side as we resolve this matter like civilized peoples.”

The younger elf was clearly at odds with the whole situation, her eyes in a state of virtual panic and indecision as all the shouting just resulted in her becoming frozen, like a deer in headlights.

It was at that point, as the last minute turned into seconds that an idea hit me.

“EVI, dunk the drone at Mal’tory’s head, now!”

“Which unit-”

“ANY OF THEM!”

“Acknowledged.”

I watched as one third of the minimap on my HUD suddenly went dark. Seconds later, I heard a sharp whizzing from the outside growing louder and louder, before finally one of the battlenet drones suddenly entered the fray, zipping in through the hole in the wall and slamming into the old wizard’s head before he could even register what was happening.

BONK!

That wasn’t enough to knock him out of the fight though.

But it was enough for me to prevent anyone from dying today, as the slushy-like concrete I was trapped in finally gave way, allowing me to break free. Without wasting any time, I leapt towards the crate with my hand outstretched.

The world once more slowed to a crawl, as the seconds ticked by uncaringly, giving me barely a handful of seconds to complete the world’s tensest game of tag.

It was then, as barely ten seconds remained that I felt both of my legs tugged down at the last second. Mal’tory’s furious gaze locked eyes with my own as I found both of my feet once more pinned and sinking into the ground.

But whilst the crate was still just a few feet out of reach, Rila wasn’t.

I grabbed the young elf by the ankles, pulling her in, and keeping her huddled between my chestplate and arms as best as I could, before suddenly, and without any fanfare, the whole world lit up in a bright white light.

I felt the heart-stopping thump of a massive shockwave, then, an ear-shattering sound of an uncontrolled release of energy, and finally, a large, unrepentant slam against my whole body.

Several more impacts pinged off of my armor in the span of a few seconds, as rock, brick, steel, and whatever else debris smashed against the unyielding space-age composites.

This continued for an indeterminate amount of time, until it finally stopped.

Until all there was left was a sudden, eerie silence.

[Alert! Damage detected! Alert! Damage Detected!]

…

“Requesting operator status.”

…

“Urgent: Requesting operator status.”