Unchosen Champion

“Balor!” Coop excitedly greeted his friend when he made it inside the citadel, trying to suppress his building anxiety. However, the stonemason’s extraordinary polished armor continued to make him nervous. It was too much like the military dress of a retiring soldier. “What’s with the get up? You look like you’re going to war.” Coop tried hiding his nervousness with what he thought was a silly joke. The group of phantoms that had been laughing on their own quieted down and were watching with wide eyes, unsure how to take the boisterous stonemason’s equipment.

“We are, lad.” Balor stated with the serious expression sculpted into his stone face. He positioned himself adjacent to the civilization shard and faced the Champion with a soldier’s posture.

“Huh?” Coop was left even more confused. “You mean the event?” He asked, though he knew that couldn’t be the answer. The contracted residents continued to be restricted by the system as long as the assimilation was ongoing. There was no getting around the limits imposed by the system for those that were already a part of it, and that was true for all of the contracted residents. There was no reason for Balor to be equipped to fight as he couldn’t independently leave the settlement’s territory until the assimilation was completed and the planet was integrated into the galactic community. The only way a contracted alien resident could engage in combat was to break their contract and they would be forced to leave the assimilation if they did so.

“No.” Balor responded, still too serious for Coop’s liking. “I mean War. Establish your faction and you’ll see. We’re ready now.” He added gruffly, like a combat veteran that knew exactly what he was getting himself into.

“Woah, hey now, what’s the rush?” Coop was suddenly on his backfoot, unprepared for the sudden declaration. He thought they had more time together. It wasn’t like the Eradication Protocol was imminent. If forming a faction was a big enough problem for the contracted residents that they would leave right away, even before the complications that would force them out, Coop could hold off a little longer before creating it. He looked to Jones for help, but the island’s senior caretaker was quiet after retreating to the side benches and letting the alien speak for himself.

“We need the faction to be official before we can join it.” Balor announced a bit impatiently, as if this was the one final thing he needed to complete a long term project that had required significant amounts of work; the one last bit of red tape that needed to be resolved. “As soon as the faction is announced, it’ll be War.”

Coop tilted his head to the side, like he was trying to listen to the stonemason’s words a second time. “You can join it?”

“We can, but the faction itself will draw an immense amount of attention by joining the galactic community. An unknown group forming a faction without an assimilation announcement will be an immediate target for half of the factions out there and a curiosity for the other half. They’ll look to crush us, claim our territory to harvest resources, and subjugate the members without a second thought, no matter how out of the way and harmless we seem.” Balor proclaimed.

“It’s as much to expand themselves as it is to prevent a new rival from establishing. Most wouldn’t dare part with the expenses if we defeated a planetary sponsor after surviving an assimilation first. They would assume we developed a hardy faction after succeeding in the end, but it is what it is with your Eradication Protocol claims. If the faction needs to come before the assimilation can end, then it will mean faction wars. I guarantee it.” The stonemason declared his logic.

Coop’s eyes widened as the pieces started to fall into place. New concerns started to pop up in his mind, and he came up with another dozen reasons to continue delaying the formation of the faction. If nothing else, he needed more levels. He tensed up as he imagined the horrors that war with other alien factions might bring. He had seen enough sci-fi movies to expect the worst in a planetary invasion. He wasn’t ready. Not even close. Were any of Ghost Reef’s residents? No way.

A calming hand cradled Coop’s shoulder before he spiraled into his thoughts, envisioning the additional responsibilities he would need to take on, and the incredible power of ancient cultivators with untold ages to progress and become their doom. The simple goals Coop held dear would be unbelievably difficult to maintain. Despite the calming touch, it was the dangerously sharp dark red nails that drew his attention. Slender fingers rested on his shoulder and gently squeezed, putting their shiny points millimeters from skin.

A pleasant, humming giggle followed as Maeve snuck up on him and pulled his focus to herself, knowing that her timing had been perfect. Instead of being dressed for waiting tables in the Clumsy Shark, like a medieval beer maiden, she looked like she was moonlighting as a seductive villainess. Her wavy blonde hair was pulled into a tight bun, revealing her pointed ears and the short dark horns normally hidden beneath her bouncy bangs. Her sharp tail slowly snaked back and forth as she shamelessly flaunted her demonic nature in a way he had never seen before and had been explicitly told she avoided doing when he was first getting to know her.

“Don’t worry, Champion.” She spoke confidently. “That’s what we’re here for.” She confirmed with a subtly menacing smile that let her normally concealed pointed teeth sneak past her lip. “The system will dictate the armies, forcing the challengers to mobilize their newest members, the equivalent of you humans in this case. It is more of a game than an actual war in your human terms, so you don’t need to concern yourself so much. The rules are well-established and there will be none of your war crimes. What you humans have already done to each other is unimaginable with the system’s oversight.” Maeve let her hand slip off Coop’s shoulder as she held his attention with her gaze.

“Our enemies will expect to find equally green opponents and earn easy prizes and experience for their fledgling ranks while plucking a premature fruit to harvest its seeds in your planet.” She gestured toward herself and Balor. “They will find us on the battlefield instead: veterans of the galactic community, independent, and powerful enough to challenge even their greatest powerhouses, would they be allowed to send them.” She smiled just a little wider at having the opportunity to flex her position in the broader galaxy. It actually sent a chill down his spine. The lovely waitress had become the personification of danger.

Coop’s eyes widened as what his alien friends were describing replaced the horrific planetary invasion he had immediately visualized. But more importantly, the explanation revealed that the alien residents hadn’t been making arrangements to return to the galactic community and abandon Ghost Reef after all. In fact, they had been organizing the opposite. A permanent commitment to the little island settlement, one that put their eternal lives on the line, and timed so that they could ensure his faction’s survival despite their reticence toward factions in general. It was such an absurd series of requests, he had never seriously imagined making it, but they had accepted it on their own.

“You’re staying?” Coop wondered, sounding a bit more like a hopeful kid than he had intended, not ready to believe it yet. There was no way Ghost Reef had earned that much from them.

“It was exceedingly expensive to renegotiate our system contracts. You’ll be stuck with us for quite a while.” Desmond added with a proud voice from over Coop’s other shoulder, having arrived with Maeve. He was wearing a gunmetal suit of snug lusterless armor with a pair of needle point fencer swords at his waist. “I trust you will make it worth our while.” He added with a subtle smile.

The devil bartender nodded to the courtyard outside of the citadel, encouraging Coop to look outside. All of the contracted residents of Ghost Reef were lined up, waiting to access the civilization shard with various types of alien armors and strange exotic weapons.

Sojjah, the slime alien alchemist, made a spectacle of herself as she swirled with bubbling chemicals inside of her body. Her core transitioned from her humanoid form to a giant imitation of Jett, testing her claws. Six spiked tails flicked in the air as she experimented with feline flexibility combined with the whip-like additions. Satisfied, she transformed back and popped a small square into her mouth, altering her color slightly as it dissolved. She stood with the monkey-like forager and his diamond shaped companion near the front of the citadel while they also double-checked unusual armaments.

Garod, the blacksmith, was further behind and off to the side in his own open space, fiddling with a small handheld contraption. A rectangular device with an antenna-like apparatus resisted his efforts until he finally grew frustrated and smashed the singular red button in the center.

Armor careened through the air and crashed onto the diminutive alien after manifesting somewhere in the sky. Heavy metal that looked like it belonged in a junkyard landed with a crushing bang, obscuring the alien, and for a moment Coop’s breath caught as he thought he witnessed the sudden death of their grandmaster blacksmith. The pile of heavy metal plates shifted, constructed itself into something akin to a steel mech, rising up and transforming into a bipedal automaton with grating clangs. The top plate lifted to reveal the dog-eared alien sitting in a cockpit surrounded by levers 14 feet off the ground. He pulled one lever and a drill-shaped arm protruded from the side of the mech’s torso, joining half a dozen others that poked idly at the air. The last addition rotated with a buzz before spinning back down while the blacksmith did diagnostics on his own unique creation.

Erasimus Doomthread waited for his turn behind Ixia’s gently shifting moth wings. The clothier had a small swarm of needles flitting back and forth as he shifted his claws where threads presumably connected his tools. Further behind, Brewbot stood with perfect upright posture, with his shiny metallic arms folded behind his back as if the robot was meditating. Zakronaw, the bird mayor flapped above the rest, landing on top of the citadel, taking up a protective position near the civilization shard, and the group of undead from the archive were joined by the enigmatic set of aliens from the medical center, despite their allegiance to a different faction. Their loyalty to the individual Sage was evidently a higher priority than the broader Merciful faction.

While Coop tried to reconcile the number of aliens with what he knew of the settlement, Caisalya, the herbalist, joined Balor inside the central area, causing all the plants growing on trellises to shift in her direction and seem just a little greener. “Was there always this many?” Coop asked himself, gauging the group to be more than 100 rather than the dozen or so he thought they had recruited.

The herbalist smiled sweetly at Coop, but the friendliness was barely surface level. Even the pleasant plant lady was seemingly in the mood for war. He looked at her slender limbs and wondered what she was doing there without her own specially crafted armor like all the rest. She seemed harmless aside from her aura.

“Careful, Champion.” She sang to him as she caught his eye and smirked. “I have thorns as well.” She stated with her voice losing the melody and hinting at real danger. The look in her eye reminded him that she was one of the galactic community’s most wanted, with a bounty on her head that could crush entire planets.

Coop slowly put his finger down before he could formulate a response, already overwhelmed. A shadow appeared behind the line that was extending toward the bridge. Vronk forced his way to the front, eschewing his rolling pin for a solid stained club, making him seem even more barbaric than normal. The club itself was multi-colored, covered in what Coop could only assume was many different types of alien blood. The other aliens got out of his way, giving a surprising amount of respect to the ogre baker. Coop watched as the ogre-like alien skipped the line and hunched through the entranceway until he made it to the central chamber of the citadel where he could stand tall.

The baker was breathing erratically, nostrils flaring, and his eyes were bloodshot by the time he met Coop’s, clearly agitating for a fight. “Vronk first. Vronk go smash. Protect piggies.” He managed to articulate though it was clear he wanted to simply roar.

“Do it, Coop.” Balor encouraged, following the ogre’s lead. “We’ll let Vronk accept the first challenge.”

When Coop retrieved the royal blue disc from his spatial storage, the aliens respectfully gave him space, awed by the implement he had kept this whole time. He took the Faction Founding Chip and placed it beneath the civilization shard, giving up on finding more excuses to delay. He trusted Balor, Maeve, and the others.

Coop stumbled back, shielding his eyes and doing his best to brace himself as waves of mana produced the most spectacular system display he would ever witness. For the first time since humans were exposed to mana, the system exceeded his wildest expectations.

Energy vibrated from the shard, creating a kaleidoscope of embellishments in the normally invisible, omnipresent mana, pulsating through their claimed territory. The pattern echoed like interdimensional snowflakes in Empress City, in Neptune’s Bridge, and beyond to Corozal. Those individuals that had already joined the faction resonated with the shard, pinging like sonar up the East Coast of North America and scattered throughout the connections between the subordinate settlements.

The reverberation went beyond Earth, escaping the planetary shield that boxed them in, cascading through the singular entity that every particle claimed by mana combined into, indelibly registering them with the system. Coop’s senses were completely drowned by the feeling of synchronicity, like the universe stopped to take note of him and those he was connected with. It wasn’t as oppressive as being beneath the focused hunger of the Deep Dweller, but he still felt awestruck, and the feeling seemed more alien, being external from humanity’s collective imagination.

The janky pre-registration provided by Lyriel’s Purification Chip couldn’t hold a candle to the impact of connecting with the galactic community properly. As his physical senses gradually returned and he came down from the alien euphoria, a new type of message was blinking in the center of his vision, unwilling to be ignored. It was a Galactic Notification, mirrored for every single being in the known universe.

[The Lighthouse Faction has claimed a Core]

[Territory - Ghost Reef]

[World - Earth]

[Principal Species - Human]

[Founder - Coop]

Coop’s breath caught as he reconciled the isolated struggle he intended to undertake in protecting his little tropical island with the universal attention they were drawing. How could he keep things simple after this?

Balor stepped forward, and accepted a pending invitation to join the faction that had been arranged by Elder Olani ahead of time. Coop read the message, head still spinning.

[Balor Rockshaper (Level 7,589) has become an ‘Initiate” level Permanent Member of the Lighthouse]

“Holy crap, Balor.” Coop muttered as he noted his level. “I thought you were a crafter.”

“I am.” He responded dismissively. “Now, brace yourself, lad. You’ve just become the shiniest stone in the universe. Take heart in knowing we’ve got your back.” Balor added just before the notifications started to roll in and the other aliens moved forward to take their turn joining the faction.

[The Xyl’thari Brood has declared a War of Conquest on the Lighthouse]

[The Silent Hive has declared a War of Conquest on the Lighthouse]

[The Silicon Vanguard has declared a War of Ideology on the Lighthouse]

[The Devourers of the Void has declared a War of Conquest on the Lighthouse]

[The Zrnar Collective has declared a War of Subjugation on the Lighthouse]

[The Concord of Crimson has declared a War of Conquest on the Lighthouse]

[The Arisen has declared a War of Conquest on the Lighthouse]

…

Coop couldn’t keep up with the notifications. Thousands of declarations scrolled past his sight, blurring despite being transmitted directly into his head, warning him that if they did not respond within a certain timeframe they would be penalized and ultimately forfeit. The Eon Ascendancy, Chitinous Collective, Zenith Blades, Quicksilver Navigators, Chorus of Dominion, Flame’s Witness, and on and on and on, interspersed by the alien residents becoming Initiate members of the Lighthouse.

After the contracted residents joined the human faction, they disappeared, one after the other, as they volunteered to become the defensive armies representing the Lighthouse on the system-designated battlefields, giving the xeno factions a response to their declarations of war. When Coop approached the shard himself, Balor stopped him from personally joining them, shaking his head and insisting Coop keep doing what he was doing on Earth. Still, Coop insisted on adding the nearby phantoms, while rousing the rest to contribute to the defense. The fort became a flurry of activity, but it was diminished by the notifications that flooded Coop’s vision.

Eventually, the crowd around the citadel dispersed and Coop was left alone with Jones once again, now with millions of pending notifications.

“Really puts things into perspective, doesn’t it?” Jones observed, astounded, despite being forewarned by Balor and the others as to the scale of their challenge.

Coop considered everything for a moment, amazed that the alien residents had collectively decided to join them. He hadn’t expected such solidarity from the visitors.

If nothing else, their commitment and the galaxy’s fixation on the Lighthouse, and therefore Ghost Reef, further reinforced his resolve to preserve the island as long as he could. His responsibilities to maintain Ghost Reef had become that much more important. But, for the moment, he just quietly read through the notifications, slowly shaking his head as he struggled to come to terms with what had happened.