Ignition Broker: Chapter 45 Perceptions Are Everything And Nothing

Chapter 45

Perceptions Are Everything and Nothing

“All trash goes somewhere, veterans of wars often find places to die in peace. They’ll go once all their worldly obligations are gone and they have nothing left to live for other than asking for atonement with their sins. Beware of finding such people, for they will do anything to keep their last bastion of hope alive, anything.” – Marcon on where all the veterans go after the wars are fought

“Uh, sir?” Rayalta’s confused voice cried out as the apparent shape, size, and most importantly the race of the people that they had stumbled upon made themselves known.

Arla for her part could only nod in understanding, while holding up a calming hand to stop Rayalta from making this into any more of an incident than it already was.

Shuffle-hop.

An old man hobbled his way forward, a clear limp in his right leg as he used a cane in that same hand to help hold his balance. That is if man was the correct term for such a creature as he was bi-pedal, male, but definitely not a man. Or at least not one the universe would recognize as the predominant race of the universe, and one easily able to assimilate into the Empire as a whole. Seeing this person out here, wearing the equivalent of a threadbare space suit, it was clear that this was someone who once walked the very same path that Arla did. A person of two races, but accepted by neither. While this “man” would normally not be easily accepted elsewhere, here it seemed that he found a place that accepted him fully.

Shuffling forward, the being stopped a few half dozen paces away from Arla and Rayalta who had taken a defensive half step behind her seemingly fearless leader. As he approached, Arla met his gaze, and in that brief exchange he knew. Just as Arla had been able to read and identify the small differences that made him a half-man, this person was also able to see that Arla herself was a mixed breed.

Chuckle.

The old half-man chuckled upon realizing what his subordinates had done. This act caused Arla to tense up, but for everyone else they relaxed slightly, confused by the sudden gesture of their apparent authority figure. Seeing that his act worked, the man held up his right hand in a calming gesture, before he began speaking.

“You must forgive us, we freefolk have long sense gotten used to fighting to maintain our freedoms.” The old mixed-man spoke in near perfect imperial common. From the corner of her eye, Arla could see that this act alone was enough to calm Rayalta who immediately became flat footed and no longer looked ready to move or react to quick provocation.

“That is why some of our finest warriors were so diligent about trying to defend our land from being forced back into captivity,” the arbiter for the alien colony continued as he gestured to many of the bodies of the downed warriors. Warriors who even now were starting to move and squirm slightly, as the initial paralysis effects of Arla’s enhanced stun features began to wear off. Yes, even after declaring she would go live, she still kept her settings at a non-lethal standard. Then again, as Marcon often noted, sometimes if you put a person through enough pain they’d rather curse you for not killing them outright. Then perhaps as if seeing that none of his people were killed he spoke again.

“Thank you for not killing them by the way, despite having every chance and obviously the ability to.”

Arla just nodded, letting this person get distracted from what he originally came out here to discuss. Seeing that Arla still wasn’t biting, the apparent authority figure for these Freefolk continued, going in an apparently different direction. This time while pointing to the junk hill, the interlocutor continued.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you happened to repair not only a few of our more ancient artifacts, but even fixed the scanning scales?”

At this question Arla nodded.

Smirk.

Seeing that Arla only answered with a nod and was not willing to give much more, the interlocutor could only laugh at the apparent absurdity of this situation. Then a spark went off in his eyes.

“You are mad about the apparent ‘void ab initio’?” The male spoke, trying to find the right words, but it being so odd and foreign a concept that he was clearly unable to come up with the correct term or phrase.

Seeing the confusion on both his face, and Arla realizing she thought she knew, but couldn’t quite articulate his clear intention showed that this was not the male’s first language. This was when Arla herself finally decided to speak and forever change the course of this dialogue.

“What languages do you know?” Arla asked in flawless Cerusian.

“Ohh.” A number of the Freefolk who had now gathered, along with the warriors who were recovering from their injuries cried out.

“You even sing the words of power as they do, but to them you don’t even have the wings to soar with them.” The interlocutor responded in his own broken but discernable Cerusian. His words conveyed that he too understood her status among both the Cerusian, and likely the people whose uniform she now wore. By comparison the male’s portrayal of the language, while flawlessly spoken was clearly spoken by someone who had not trained since birth to speak the tongue. Also it seemed that there were certain vocal ranges that the male would never be able to reach, even if he had tried from the beginning. Then as if realizing something profound, he spoke.

“No wonder our own Cerusian word singers were easily outmatched, despite that being their primary baseline templated class.” There was a slight pause, as the interlocutor seemed to evaluate something, before coming to some understanding of his own.

“Have you perhaps unlocked your own Cerusian Class?”

Arla nodded her head. That confirmation was enough for the man to decide to reveal something important. Taking a deep reluctant breath he breathed in, and then showed an alternate system, one that both seemed easily recognizable to Arla and also completely different.

“Here is what I managed to unlock from the blood of my ancestors.”

Then after speaking the words, a box of seemingly familiar blue text appeared, but that was all that seemed similar to Arla.

Cerusian Plebian Template: 5.17.23.

Cerusian Plebian Class assigned: Foreman.

Foreman: (Low Level Leader/Support)

Primary Purpose: Keep fellow Plebians in line.

At that revelation, a few things became clearer to Arla. First, this explained why this person was seemingly in charge of this group, it was part of his class. It was also likely that he awakened his ancient bloodline in battle, though his records were not as impressive as Arla’s were. Perhaps reading something in Arla’s gaze and general posture, the interlocutor asked.

“I take it you have something similar?”

With that Arla flinched slightly, hers was similar, but also vastly different. For a moment she thought about keeping this a secret, but ultimately realized this might be her first chance to learn about what these Cerusian templates were and what they all meant.

As such, Arla focused and holding up her left hand, the same way as the leader had, she focused on just portraying the first four lines of text. For a moment nothing happened, then it sort of just clicked in her mind, and suddenly the lines of text began appearing in a reversed blue box. Well the wording was reversed to Arla’s sight as this was clearly meant to be read by others, however despite the letters and words being backwards and in a secondary language to her primary, she still read the text as if it was displayed correctly.

Cerusian Baseline Template: 1.0.0.

Cerusian Baseline Class assigned: Tinkerer.

Tinkerer: (Support/Creation Class)

Primary Purpose: Build Around and Find Out.

“AWE!” This time, the sounds made by the crowd of onlookers was loud and easily discernable. They were shocked and quite easily surprised by the words being displayed before them. Many of the new arrivals, those that were not immediately hostile looked at the screen and then began kneeling and bowing their heads.

“Uhh, commander?” Rayalta began speaking finally unable to keep her silence. Her words a clear testament that she was seeing the reversed words written in Cerusian before her. Though it was clear that she likely couldn’t read the words even if they were going in the correct direction. “Why are they suddenly bowing?”

Hearing the question, Arla could only shrug her shoulders as she herself did not understand. Fortunately, the interlocutor heard Rayalta’s comments and decided to answer.

“You must forgive us, as you have a vaunted Relic class.”

“A relic class?” Rayalta asked suddenly stepping out from behind Arla and standing to her side, as she clearly no longer felt threatened by the situation that was unfolding around them.

“Yes, a relic class. The template number and identifiers at the end are what constitutes your class. The lower the number, the greater the class is in terms of power and abilities. The only factors for having a low number like that are by having exceptionally great ancestors, and by performing a tremendous feat that was recognized by the great system.” The interlocutor replied.

“So being a Tinkerer is good?” Arla asked, wondering what exactly this baseline class meant. The fact that it was a 1.0.0 model now made sense as that meant she was likely one of the initial prototype classes.

“I don’t know,” the interlocutor replied honestly, fear evident in his voice. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen any below the three series.”

At that, Arla could only nod as everyone seemed to be taking it all in. By now some of the more curious Freefolk had begun moving forward, but in a nonhostile way. Their acts were mainly an attempt to read the blue text easier, as if trying to see if the words would be different when viewed from up close.

Finally, a little girl asked in broken Cerusian the question that likely everyone was wondering at this point.

“Just what did you do to unlock such a low Profile Template? I want to do the same when I grow up!” The little girl stated as she flexed her muscles.

Chuckles.

Seeing the little girl’s antics, everyone laughed a little. With that question in the air, Arla paused and debated about her answer, then she answered truthfully.

“It was simple really, I just killed a Behemoth and its full raiding party.”

Boisterous laughter.

At that reply there was a burst of loud laughter that broke out amongst the Freefolk. Only for a slight twinge of unease to fill them as they noticed that Arla herself was not laughing. Seeing her stoic expression, and the way she was barely holding back her contempt. The Interlocutor paused, and then holding up a hand to stop everyone from continuing to laugh, he asked.

“Wait? Are you serious?”

Arla just shrugged and nodded, as if it was no big deal. That’s when everyone paused. Most wanted to argue, but a quick look around at the field with warriors who were still down, or just barely able to sit up with the assistance of others. Seeing the way Arla remained unscathed despite going up what was likely the entire defensive force of those who were desperately trying to protect their lands, everyone paused.

Well everyone but the one little girl who had been flexing her arm muscles earlier.

“Really? My mom says that the Behemoths are space boogeymen who try to eat little girls who don’t do their chores.”

Laughter.

At that, the tension that had suddenly built up due to everyone realizing that such a statement was not completely improbably, especially considering the clear notation of a baseline template, one of the mythical relic level class holders. Everyone just paused as they realized a monster in the guise of human flesh was standing before them.