Why Did You Summon Me?

Since the speed of the simulation was on fast-forward, Baiyi could only catch bits and pieces of the Cleric Walker’s invocation. It was slurred gibberish, but, for some reason, it did contain the words ‘Loli’, ‘Black Lace’, and ‘Thicc’. A lengthy chant later, the Cleric Walker’s finger lit up with theurgical magic used to heal the sick.

 So this was what ‘Faith’ turned out to be.

 The Cleric Walker and the Paladin Walker had mastered this power, which helped raise their places in the power rankings. The images beside their names on the power ranking list had changed to roman alphabets: an “E” and “H.”¹ Although neither of the two had founded a church, they revolutionized fashion. The locals revered them greatly and valued their pick of clothes for young ladies. Soon, clothes with short cuttings became very popular in this simulated world. Even girls of Stardew Valley could be seen in miniskirts and short dresses.

 This came out from nowhere, but Baiyi considered weird developments like these as par the course of his simulation. Instead of inserting his “preferred correction,” Baiyi let it be and continued to watch.

 He needed to gather even more data quickly, so he skipped the timeline of the simulation ahead. To avoid confusion, he also altered the players’ perception of time so that they felt as though the years had flitted past them like an arrow. After a few blinks and when the world finally stopped spinning, they found themselves already in the future.

 Baiyi displaced all of the players into a position that was most probable for them, given no changes to their lifestyle, personality, and behaviors. In truth, the players'”lost years” were played out by non-playable characters created from their likeness, right down to their cognitive tendencies and discernable personality traits. Any behavioral and mental differences between the players and Baiyi’s replicas were, in the grand scheme, negligible.

 This was but one of the many reasons why Baiyi started this massive simulation, involving this many participants, in the first place. He needed his sample size to be sufficiently big so that he could record and store cognitive models that were not only diverse but elite. After all, all one thousand participants here were the crème de la crème of Isythre possessing talents and skills that could radically change the world. Even the students held the same potentials, even if they may need a bit more time to mature to such levels —

 ‘Maybe except Mia. She’s an outlier whose only contribution would be to act cute,’ Baiyi reminded himself.

 With these cognitive models, Baiyi’s world-building simulation kit — or as he would like to call it, “Civilization Forecast”— was finally ready. He would be able to write and change any Laws he saw fit to alter his model’s settings, dropped a few of these cognitive models into it, and run his simulation to its logical end. Fast forward the time of the simulation, and Baiyi would be able to see said world’s future, including the kind of culture and civilization that could emerge. It was a tool of significance to a universe-creator-to-be.

 If he placed only magic-minded characters, such as the Archmage and other mages, into his simulation, the result would probably be a shining paragon of magical civilizations. Characters like the Engineer Walker and the Blacksmith Walker, meanwhile, would push the world to the direction of tech advancement. As for people like the Cleric and the Paladin? Baiyi predicted the world to head to demise sooner than expected.

 Finally, if he tossed only Mia into the simulation, Baiyi had a feeling the world might just destroy itself instead.

 The players had no clue as to what Baiyi planned; to them, this was a simulation video game — and one that they enjoyed immensely. Hence, following Baiyi’s machination, and time jumped to a decade later, these players felt as though they were a fish out of water. Not only did they feel as though they had just regained control over their bodies, but also the world had suddenly lurched from a primitive agrarian society into something utterly different.

 Baiyi had imparted information on both their current status and the world directly into the players’ minds. The reactions were mixed; some expressed excitement to their new world while others were slightly more negative, as they thought skipping ahead of time without warning was a scummy move on par with EA’s loot boxes. Then, outside of those two camps were the ones who ignored Baiyi’s information altogether because their eyes were attracted to their shiny surrounding, including their new smartphones and laptops.

 Finally, there were a handful of people who expressed outrage towards their new life. One of them was none other than Baiyi’s beloved master.

 “Traitor! Traaaaitorrrrrr!” The Archmage’s shriek broke out from a luxurious penthouse apartment. Resting on his palm was a smartphone depicting the simulated world’s most popular gatcha game.

 After recovering from the sickness of being thrust into the future, the first thing the Archmage did was to check out his new status by evaluating his incredibly posh residence.

 As it turned out, Baiyi’s replica had emulated the Archmage perfectly. His penthouse was designed in an aesthetic only the old geezer would appreciate, including a surfeit of gold over furniture and appliances he secretly desired. One of the rooms had also been converted into a hi-tech retreat, complete with a futuristic pod-styled computer workstation and an electronic screen doubling as a wall.

 Everything was exactly as the Archmage had dreamed. It was so perfect that he wondered if his heart had been thoroughly analyzed beforehand. In fact, he felt compelled to admit that he probably has no other desire than to live in a world like this.

 “My protégé understands me the most!” The Archmage proclaimed and pulled out his high-end magiPhone¹. His finger swiftly tapped on this simulation’s most popular gatcha game among a cluster of apps, then to his summons’ collection.

 A sea of grey greeted him — grey summons everywhere, each of his pull a character no more than three-stars. It was so grey that it bleached the Archmage’s previously golden-yellow mood ashen.

 He had to retract his statement. His protégé had proven himself to possess zero understanding of his master’s deepest desires after all.

 Meanwhile, in a famous, bustling city-slash-tourist attraction called Stardew Valley, Mia decided that she was content with her future arrangement. In the city surrounded by pristine, breathtaking natural splendor, and a climate always so fine and refreshing, Mia and the other first founders of Stardew Valley now occupied the best part of the land.

 The girl pushed open the window of her room, now located in a luxury apartment, and feasted upon the lush, sylvan woods next to a human-made lake glimmering like a silver pearl. Just one glance outside her room made Mia released a breath she had not even known she was holding.

 She could stay in this place forever.

 Her bedroom, too, was bursting with Mia’s aesthetics and preference. Pink — the color of the youthful heart — was the dominant hue. Rows of cuddly, fluffy stuffed animals adorned her bed. When Mia pulled open her closet, the sight of the most gorgeous and the cutest dresses sent her heart fluttering in contentment and happiness.

 There was without a doubt that Mr.Hope knew her darling girl so well that his Mia replica predicted the girl’s preference correctly.

 The little girl was about to throw herself on her bed and rub every stuffed toy with her cheeks when Noirciel, who lived next door, suddenly burst into her room with a shove at the door.

 The angel had long discarded the bland, unimaginative white robe she was commonly seen wearing. Instead, Noirciel was donning a black blouse, and a white skirt truncated right above her black over-knee socks — the quintessential Japanese high-school uniform. Her white blindfold was gone, revealing a pair of eyes as blue as sapphire. “Mia! It’s time for school!”

 “Wait — what?!” Mia was stunned. Nobody mentioned anything about schools!

 “Did you even finish your homework?” Noirciel continued, striding towards her friend’s desk to peer over the opened exercise books, utterly unsurprised that they were all blank.

 Mia frowned. Although she thought she might have homework yesterday, it also felt fuzzy and unfamiliar, like it was someone else’s memory. Since when had her daily assignment stopped being “feeding the lambs and calves”? Why would she still need to do homework in the first place?

 “Just! Change into your uniform right now, okay?” Noirciel drawled while sweeping Mia’s books into the girl’s bag, her voice dripping with anxiety. After that, she turned around and hurriedly helped Mia into her uniform while nagging, “Quickly, please! Our homeroom teacher bites, you know?”

 “B-but my homework!” Mia cried.

 “Just copy mine!” Noirciel replied, radiating camaderie.

 The two belles then dashed out of the apartment lobby and into their chartered ride, which transported them to an all-female elite high school just a few seconds before the gate was closed. Once they were in their classroom, Mia blazed through her workbooks with Noirciel’s answers in a flurry before class, thus saving herself.

 The two went through history class in a dazed, tired motion until their math teacher stormed into their class and smacked their assignments on their desks. All of their pages were branded with Xs as red as death.

 “Un-be-lievable! You copied the one who got it all wrong?!” The teacher, who appeared to be a local of the simulation, howled in such fury that one wondered if she might blackout.

 She snapped her stinkeye to Noirciel, who was sitting beside Mia, and screeched, “And you! How did you manage to be wrong in everything?! These are supposed to be the easy ones!”

 Soon, the two were sentenced to stand on the corridor outside their classroom. Surprisingly, after taking their positions, Mia and Noirciel looked up to see Attie and Mordred winking shamelessly at them from outside their classroom too, with heavy books stacked on their heads.

 “Psst! Next time, we copy Nota’s answers,” Attie whispered with the tone of one sharing a nugget of wisdom.

 “Next time?! I’ve become a teacher for years! Why am I suddenly forced back to school again?!” Mia protested, not even sure if she should cry or laugh.

 While Mia returned to the trials of student life against her wishes, the Engineer — who wasted no time getting used to his new status — was standing excitedly before a gigantic object obscured by a piece of canvas.

 With a rope in his hand, he addressed a horde of people gathering below his stage, all of them bursting with furor matching his own. “My gentlemen! We! Have! Done! It! This is not just our success, but all of humanity! One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind!”

 He tugged at the rope and yanked the canvas away, revealing a neon-green robot.

 “Today is the day we show those morons the steel beneath the style!” He yelled.

 While the Engineer was giving one of his most passionate speeches in his rally, the Blacksmith was holding a massive military parade of his own. Warplanes and tanks lined up in formations before him, and after an inspection, he nodded in approval before smirking, “Alright, lads. Time to show those idiotic mecha-stans who are the real big boys of warfare.”