Omega Point

Jeff’s attention refocused as Dijana, the elderly female Autoch began to speak, describing the reflection in front of him.

“You see before you a potential Path choice. The Rage Warrior. Embrace this Path and you will inevitably transform into a fierce berserker, a melee fighter of unparalleled ferocity, capable of entering a fearsome battle fury. What your techniques may lack in sophistication, you make up for with sheer unstoppability. Inflict devastating damage on your adversaries, while gaining resistance to physical attacks. As you level up, your brute strength will increase accordingly, turning you into an unstoppable force.”

Jeff’s gaze was riveted to the mirror-like surface of the wall. The man reflected there was a more imposing version of himself—at least a foot taller—with densely packed, corded muscles and wider shoulders. The most striking difference was in the face that stared back at him. Transfixed, Jeff looked into his eyes and saw pure violence within.

The image felt like more than just a two-dimensional representation. The longer he studied it, the more connected he felt, as if he was being shown another, unused facet of his own personality.

The towering, pumped-up reflection looked down at him, emanating an aura of of raw, untamed power. A small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth spoke of an easy confidence, an unwavering certainty born of overwhelming strength. Jeff looked up at this version of himself and was impressed—not only with the rugged physique but also with the rampant potential and authority on display.

The wall in front of him shifted and flexed. Jeff was presented with a scene of such clarity it was as though he was looking through a window into another world. In the image, the Rage Warrior version of Jeff stood facing an armed host on a shadowy battlefield. The antagonists—unclear silhouettes against a dim, twilight shrouded backdrop—were almost inconsequential. The focus of the vision was firmly fixed on the figure of berserker-Jeff.

With an earth-shattering roar that resonated with a brutal, primal ferocity, he charged headlong into the melee. Smashing through the army like a force of nature, the Rage Warrior was unstoppable. Disdaining to deploy any sort of weapon, he instead used his massive, club-like fists to break through the enemy ranks. Each furious swing of his arms shattered swathes of his opponents, like a twister blowing through a field of wheat. Rending his enemies limb from limb, a weird red light began to blaze forth from his eyes, casting a strange glow across the battlefield.

The vision was so immersive, so realistic, that when it ended, Jeff felt as though he was being forcibly wrenched from one mental state to another—he had been the Rage Warrior—an advanced format of media that Hollywood would kill for.

The wall before him returned to its previous opaque state. The chamber glowed brighter once again, the octagonal panels pulsating, strobe like, the strange symbols reappearing, sending more pulses of energy through the core of his being.

Jeff was engulfed in a whirlwind of sensation. Disoriented, he could not tell if the floor he stood on spun at high speed, or perhaps it was stationary, and instead the walls themselves revolved rapidly around him, like he was trapped in some strange kaleidoscopic carnival ride. The surreal display slowed to a gradual halt, and as the strobing lights subsided, Jeff was facing another segment of the chamber, and another incarnation of himself.

Dijana continued, her voice resonating through the chamber once again.

“Behold the Path of the Weapons Warrior. The Art of War. Follow this path to attain mastery of arms. Become skilled with your personal weaponry. As you progress, your proficiency in your chosen fighting style will deepen, forging you into a formidable warrior on the battlefield.”

This version of himself appeared superficially similar to the base-Jeff, possibly indistinguishable to a casual observer. But Jeff detected multiple, subtle differences straight away. The man in the mirror radiated an air of lethality, and as Jeff stared at his own reflection, he saw a future path steeped in war and the art of killing. In the Weapons Warrior’s eyes, Jeff saw an almost monomaniacal focus—the relentless pursuit of weapons mastery.

The scene shifted, and again Jeff was propelled into another immersive vision— the Weapons Warrior in the midst of battle, ploughing through a phalanx of shadow soldiers—ruthlessly carving a path with sword and bow. Utilizing an advanced form of martial arts, alien yet fascinating to Jeff’s trained eye, the Weapons Warrior obliterated a war party of three, each kick and chop deeply denting armor and snapping bone. Jeff, immersed in the vision, was gripped by a steely, almost fanatical determination to fight and to win.

Once more, the walls spun and Jeff was faced with another choice.

“The Adept. The Way of the Cultivator. Those few travelers on this Path master the power of mana, the very life blood of the System universe. Your odyssey begins with meditation techniques and cycling to improve your pathways. By evolving your pathways and Core Space, you will progress to the pinnacle of cultivation.”

In this vision, the alternate version of Jeff floated serenely, cross-legged, a foot above the floor. He looked to be meditating—clouds of energy streaming and coalescing around his body, and a radiant gemstone inset into his forehead glowed a brilliant blue.

Opening his eyes, he nodded at Jeff and smiled, a look of serenity and profound wisdom illuminating his features.

The scene shifted. Adept-Jeff stood on a snowcapped peak, arms raised, sending green beams of pure energy cascading down into an army assembled far below. Each beam exploded with devastating power, scouring the valley down to the bedrock and laying waste to the soldiers at the base of the mountain.

Another scene—the adept stood on a floating platform of some sort, soaring effortlessly across a slate-grey ocean at blinding speed. Gazing at the reflection, Jeff felt limitless potential in his grasp. If he were to practice and learn enough, he could ascend to omnipotence, becoming the most powerful entity in the universe.

Again the walls revolved, and Jeff was presented with another version of himself.

“The Vanguard’s Path. You embody the essence of stealth and strategy. Vanguards are skilled in the art of camouflage, subterfuge and espionage. Hiding in plain sight, you are the perfect fifth columnist, striking your enemies from the shadows and delivering devastating blows when least expected.”

At first Jeff assumed there had been some sort of glitch in the mechanism of the chamber—the wall facing him appeared to be blank. But then, slowly at first, Jeff was able to detect a shadowy figure. With an abrupt pop, the Vanguard fully resolved.

A slimmer, shorter version of Jeff faced him, sly cunning writ large across his nondescript features. Remarkably different in appearance from the other Path-versions, this Jeff had the uncanny ability to be both present and invisible at the same time. He winked mischievously, his eyes twinkling with secret amusement, an enigmatic expression playing across his face.

The image shimmered and Jeff saw this version of himself running nimbly across the darkened rooftops of a city at night, somehow disappearing into one shadow and simultaneously reappearing in another some distance away. Eluding the guards stationed around a portcullis, he slipped through the gates into a heavily fortified castle.

Once inside, a glowing nimbus enveloped him. When the glow subsided he had transformed into the shape of a stooped, elderly butler, garbed in the drab attire of a servant. He navigated his way through the labyrinthine halls and corridors of the castle with ease, unchallenged and unnoticed. Reaching the royal bedchamber, he stood for moment beside the slumbering king, before removing a small vial from his pocket. He carefully dripped poison into a beaker resting on a table by the King’s bedside. Mission accomplished, he melted into the shadows before slipping soundlessly out of the window into the night.

As he watched, Jeff felt overcome by a strange sensation, one which he had not felt since childhood, immersed in a game of ‘hide-and-go-seek’—the pleasure gained from sneaking, playing tricks and pranks, dodging, weaving and general sculduggery.

The walls spun once again.

"The Morphon. Be at one with nature. On this Path become a master of both beast and plant—manipulate the very stuff of Life and earn the honorable ability to compel flora and fauna to do your bidding, even metamorphose into an animal or hybrid form with the Therianthropy skill.”

This version of him sported an animal companion, a white furred simian which perched comfortably on his shoulder, gazing back at Jeff with intelligent eyes.

In the ensuing vision, the Morphon, a Beast Master version of Jeff, demonstrated his ability to command and commune with the natural world. Astride a huge scaled dragon, he soared above a battlefield, arms outstretched. Below him, the earth responded to his call as enormous vines and creepers sprouted instantaneously, erupting from the soil to ensnare the troops below. The possessed plant life tripped and entangled the soldiers, surging upwards with such speed that the enemies were soon totally submerged beneath the suffocating wave of foliage. The tide eventually receded, to reveal the skeletal remains of the army, bones picked clean by the carnivorous flora.

The scene shifted to a wintry pine forest at night, where Jeff morphed into a gigantic wolf, baying and howling up at a full moon before charging through the snow-laden trees with the speed of an express train.

Jeff studied each manifestation with a growing sense of disbelief—he was having trouble reconciling the contrast between the technological marvels he had already witnessed with the primitive, fantastical premise of the Paths. The cognitive dissonance increased still further as the visions continued—Jeff began to feel the edges of his personality, his very identity, fraying and warping.

“The Spellsword. A traveller on the Path of Magic and Blade. Are you torn between the warrior’s might and the wizard’s mystique? Then this is the perfect choice for you—a perfect synthesis of both archetypes. On this Path, you will combine weapon wielding with arcane spell casting to deadly effect.”

This version was Jeff’s mirror image, except for a mysterious marking on his forehead which seemed to pulse with latent power. In his right hand he gripped the hilt of a massive sword, the whip-like blade easily eight feet long. His left hand rested casually by his side, fingertips glowing with eldritch energy. As the vision unfolded, Jeff the Spellsword engaged in combat with a succession of shadowy foes, demonstrating both martial prowess and a variety of magical Skills.

As the room revolved yet again, Dijana introduced the next choice.

“Skald of the Arcane Refrain. Master the art of melody and magic. Through the medium of song, unleash powerful magical cantrips on your enemies. Instant expertise in a charmed instrument will be yours—with a repertoire of Skills to be unlocked at later levels. Wield music as a weapon. Ensorcel your foes with your siren songs. Mend and rejuvenate your allies with soothing charms.”

Jeff the Bard sat in a beautiful sun-dappled glade, his back against the trunk of a large willow tree, strumming a lute and humming a ditty in an unfamiliar language. The flowing silks he wore gave him a softer, almost feminine air, long blue hair coifed and curled. Jeff looked closer at the scene, surprised to see this version of himself wore a garland of flowers perched atop his head. His cheeks were rouged and…was that lipstick?

As Jeff watched the scene and listened to the music, he was strangely moved by the scene. The beautiful tune the bard played reached out to him, soothing his ragged nerves and sending waves of warmth through his psyche, easing his tensions. The bard, with a glint of wisdom in his eyes, met Jeff’s gaze and smiled knowingly.

The vision that followed showed Jeff, the Skald of the Arcane Refrain, ensorcelling his enemies through the medium of dance, song and whispers—a choreographed, stately pavane of mayhem set to a beautiful musical score.

The final wall of the chamber spun into place, revealing Jeff’s last choice.

“Magus Arcana. Harness the wizardly arts, mastering spells to weave powerful magical effects; perform alchemical rituals to create potions to both harm and heal. Specialize in Incantation, Spell Casting or Sorcery.”

Before Jeff stood his wizardly counterpart, every inch of him embodying the archetypal magical sage. Under normal circumstances Jeff would have laughed at the sight—stereotypically, the wizard was bearded, and wore the usual flowing grey robes with a classically pointed hat. He held a long wooden staff, its tip equipped with a glowing orb.

In this, the climactic vision, the robed wizard Jeff stood resolutely on a desolate hillside. Below him, a rabble of menacing, shadowy orcs surged forward. One hand held his staff aloft, the other contained an ancient tome of spells from which he read. Each word, solemnly intoned, caused a rune in the book to glow brightly—with each syllable, a bolt of vermillion flame was unleashed from the end of his staff, smiting the oncoming orcish tide.

The chamber lights flared in a dazzling display, all eight walls glowing simultaneously, showcasing the eight potential Path choices. Jeff, stood in the center of the room, watching, as each of the eight incarnations processed past his view in turn. As they came into Jeff’s line of sight, they each briefly nodded in acknowledgment. Jeff raising his hand to acknowledge them, accidentally found out that he with a simple swipe left and right, he could bring any of the figures before him into sharper focus.

The hulking Rage Warrior with his ripped physique and aura of violence, the Weapons Warrior exuding waves of killing intent, the Adept floating in mystical serenity, the partially visible Vanguard, fading in and out of stealth mode, the Morphon with the wise arctic simian on his shoulder, the Spellsword wielding his massive blade, the Skald of the Arcane Refrain humming a melancholic tune, and the Wizard, staff aglow.

The elderly Autochs approached to stand on either side of him again. Kjel gently prompted Jeff to make his choice.

“Choose your Path, traveller…”

Jeff stood in the center of the chamber of choices, the weight of the decision pressing in on his hazy, dreamlike state. He forced himself to focus, pushing through the surreal fog that clouded his mind. Even if this is a dream, he thought drowsily, I’ll play along.

He once again studied the Paths in front of him intently, struck by the similarities between the characters and those from his past gaming experiences. Whilst playing RPGs back on Earth with friends, Jeff had typically gravitated towards some variant of wizard, liking the fantastical premise. mostly He was also drawn to the more cerebral role because he resented being stereotyped as a melee, damage-dealing DPS fighter or barbarian due to his burly physique.

He pondered the implications of each choice, continuing to apply a gamer’s perspective to the problem. Being asked to select a player type ‘in the real world’ for the first time, Jeff was reluctant to put all his eggs in the wizardry basket. From his RPG experience, he knew casters such as mages and wizards were weak, early game, lacking the physical resilience of warriors or the stealth of rogues.

Jeff’s gaming experience had taught him that casters were more suited for distanced, ranged attacks, while warriors tended to be found in the thick of the action, making use of their melee-based Skills.

He was drawn to certain elements of the Vanguard Path—he knew instinctively that all warfare is based on deception—but full-on cloak and dagger sculduggery did not gel with his personal style. In gaming, as well as in life, he had never been one to kite on the periphery of battle.

The raw power offered by the Rage Warrior Path promised relentless aggression, but like the Vanguard, he felt the this choice would work best as the tank of a group—acting as a bulwark. This did not appeal to him for similar reasons to the Vanguard Path—while he gravitated towards direct confrontation, he preferred to work on his own.

Jeff appreciated certain aspects of the Weapons Warrior Path—it offered a more nuanced fighting style, with both offensive and defensive aspects, but he eventually discounted the choice, still attracted by the allure of other, more magically fueled paths.

The Skald of the Arcane Refrain Path was intriguing, but Jeff couldn’t picture himself in that role. He had never played a musical instrument, and the idea of relying on singing in a sudden, violent scenario—like an ambush—felt impractical. The thought of dancing around on a battlefield in a silk kimono didn’t sit right with him. It wasn’t because Jeff considered himself a traditional ‘macho’ type; he simply believed that chainmail or even basic leather would be more suitable. All in all, the more relaxed vibe of the Skald Path put him off.

Vanguard, Rage and Weapons Warrior, Skald of the Arcane Refrain…All four paths would most likely suit a team-player, which Jeff most certainly was not. He had always been a lone wolf, even when gaming.

The Morphon seemed interesting, but again, Jeff did not like to be too reliant on other entities, even pets.

He discounted the Adept and Magus Arcana paths as too specialized.

He felt himself drawn towards the Spellsword Path—the fusion of magical and martial prowess resonated deeply with him, but his gaze kept drifting back, intrigued by the other choices available.

Still in the strange, dream-like haze, resentment began to bubble up inside Jeff.

“Why should I choose? Why can’t I have it all?” He snapped, frustration gnawing as he bristled against the shackles imposed by a single Path.

“Oh ho he’s a feisty one!” The woman laughed, a smile on her lips.

The man remained silent, though a flicker of irritation crossed his face.

“You must choose a single Path!” He demanded, his once mellow tone now edged with anger.

“I have a good feeling about this one,” the woman interjected, her voice soft as she placed a calming hand on her partner’s arm.

Despite the man’s urging, Jeff stood firm, stubbornly digging in his heels. The more they pressed him to choose one of the eight Paths, the more defiantly he resisted. He rejected any attempt to mold him.

“We have to send him back! The interception will soon be detected!” Kjel shouted, his voice tinged with panic.

As the couple argued, an abrupt pressure filled the room, as if a third, incredibly powerful presence had entered. Yellow flashes of light flickered across the chamber ceiling, causing both of them to look up in surprise.

“The System! It’s sending a Judgement!” The woman exclaimed, shock in her tone.

A glowing dialog appeared in Jeff’s vision:

System Challenge

Eight becomes One—Break the Chains of Fate

Complete 7 Tribulations to Rewrite Your Path

Do you Accept? Y/N

Not fully grasping the situation but sensing from the Autochs’ excitement that this was an extraordinary opportunity, Jeff drowsily signaled his acceptance.

The chamber pulsed with yellow light as the eight Path choices began glowing one by one.

Kjel sighed, the relief clear in his voice.

“Your fate is now malleable, traveller. Henceforth, no one but you can decide your final Path. May your journey be a successful one…”

As the Autoch finished speaking, a display window materialized before Jeff, lines of text and indecipherable symbols scrolling rapidly across the screen, flashing too quickly for him to grasp more than fragmented glimpses. Each line seemed to sear through his mind, leaving a subtle imprint, mentally and spiritually altering him in some way.

…cleansing mana pathways…augmenting mana pathways…Core Space upgrade successful…

…neural alignment in progress…eidetic memory function integrated…

…bloodline integration…decoding…working…complete.

…Dao foundations laid…Dao Space tether connected…

Optimized…Optimized…Optimized...

The red beam of light once again flooded through the chamber, engulfing him, and Jeff was jettisoned out of an airlock and away through space. The velocity of travel was staggering, far surpassing the speed of his previous journey. The sheer force of the acceleration was so intense that his senses were overwhelmed, and Jeff felt conscious slipping away from him again, the red light enveloping him dimming, giving way to darkness.