“Welcome, Tom,” the centipede that was the length of three train carriages said. “My name is Throm. Corrine has briefed us, so we all know why we are here. Please, child, before we commence, is it possible for us to study the disk?”


    The moment the question was raised, he found that he could feel the disk, hidden under his clothes, pressing against his chest. It hadn’t been there an instant earlier, but he also knew that the clothes he wore had not been disturbed when it had manifested. Everyone gathered, he was sure, would perceive him to have been carrying it with him. “Um…I.”


    “Don’t be scared, child,” Throm said gently. “We’re here to help, not to judge.”


    There was no point worrying or delaying. The second the idea had occurred to him, this gathering was destined to happen. Without any further words, he pulled the disk out, then opened his palm to show them. “This…”


    He stopped talking as a force levitated his disk over to the central table standing between them all. Glowing energy radiated up from the table to encase the disk, until it looked like the disk was the plug of a semi-translucent, glowing vase. The magical container filled with more and more power, until suddenly first one semi-transparent coin, and then three more, popped out of the top and floated out to hover in front of each of the others.


    “Interesting,” Throm muttered. “You have done well, child. The ritual design is terrible, as expected. The craftsmanship is passable, which is a huge credit to one so young. However, all of that pales beneath the factor that it has been infused with genuine precognition affinity mana. Despite its weaknesses, that last part makes it all work. This is very, very interesting. Corrine, thank you for bringing him here.”


    The feathered person tapped the disk in front of it. “What’s your precognition affinity? This seems high.” She focused on him with her eyes narrowing… then there was a slight pause. “Boy… What level is your affinity?”


    “Around ninety-six,” Throm answered on his behalf.


    “No, it’s only ninety-five.” Tom corrected. He was very aware of how even one difference at that level completely changed an affinity’s impact.


    The centipede focused on him while its closest arms were all forming different magic spells. They must have been designed to probe the power of his creation, because, when completed, they would fly off and trigger on or around the duplicate of his disk that Throm had been given to study. “Ninety-five. Fascinating. How accurate was the testing apparatus?”


    “It was a trial.”


    One of the spells he was using shattered the duplicate disk. The vase reacted by glowing brighter, and after a pause of only a couple of seconds, a new copy was created and drifted back out.


    “It must be a high ninety-five. I wouldn’t have expected any of the juniors to be able to do anything like this, but the affinity really solves a lot of issues.”


    Amkhael podded his own and appeared annoyed. “I can see the benefit, but what about the downsides? Using them might be a death trap. Our opponents may have the skills to stop it, and overconfidence is death. There’s a reason hardly anyone goes the no-GOD-shield option - it only takes one mistake for your luck to fail, and eventually everyone fighting like that dies. No one ever wins through two-hundred-plus battles perfectly.” He appeared to be staring at Corrine as he said that.


    “Doubtful,” Throm told him. “We can manage overconfidence, and, once the ritual goes up a tier, standard countermeasures won’t stop it. You can see that, can’t you, Amkhael?”


    “Yes, of course I can. Right now they’ll work, but our enemies will adapt. MAKROS and FAMES will both be proactive once the statistical change becomes obvious.”


    “There’s a difference between identifying and countering. This will not be a simple problem to stop.” Throm said waving the duplicate disk around with his most forward arm. “Especially with the geas interference working in our favour for once. In my opinion it’ll take them months before even one of them would be able to trick the technique. Speaking of that, we should save them all up and then use them in a massive boost.”


    “Throm, I can’t wait. I’m going to have to clear stock quickly to get stronger”


    “I’m aware, child. Once you’ve got ones to sell, you’ll have a market.”


    “So, you think it’s viable?”


    “Child, we wouldn’t be having this conversation if the potential wasn’t there, but your ritual designs need to improve first.”


    “I have an item on my curated list that will do that. I just need to get thirteen coins from somewhere. Can you guys lend it to me?”


    They all looked at each other.


    “You can’t borrow coins, and nor can you be gifted them.” Corrine said finally.


    “That doesn’t make sense. I’m sure someone said there was trading we can do…”


    “You have to possess an item of sufficient value to do that.”


    Tom pondered about what he could borrow or steal to trade to get a better start. It would have to be something worth thirteen coins or approximately forty thousand experiences.


    “Maybe I can get something.”  He muttered.


    “It won’t work,” Vturalta interrupted him gently. “The trades not only have to be genuine and benefit both sides - they also have to be with the things you’ve earnt. A nation can’t raid their treasuries to allow their candidate to convert unwanted stuff into coins to get the manuals to teach skills, because that would be broken.”


    “There are ways around that,” Throm said. “But they’re limited, and, from what I understand from Corrine and the situation you are in, they are not pathways you can take.”


    “The main method that has worked has been age-bracketed tournaments with ridiculous prizes.” Corrine supplied for him. “Definitely not something we can risk, given the assassins.”


    Tom wanted to protest how unfair it was that the threat of the assassins was stopping him from maximising the opportunity, but he stopped himself. If it was Briana in his situation, it would have been different. If the risk of being killed prevented her from taking advantage of this opportunity, there would be consequences for the other GODs. But as it was, with him as a reincarnated one, all he could do was accept the rules and work within them.


    The octopus stirred, and water splashed everywhere. “Besides, the exchange rate is poor in any case. You need to offer far more than the cost of the coins, and the taxes taken off both sides means that deals rarely go through.”


    “So, I can’t get the boost until I’ve won some fights?”


    “One fight.” Corrine said cheekily.


    “Thirteen,” Both Vturalta and Throm thundered at the same time.


    “Thirteen,” Throm said more reasonably. “Tom’s collective value is too much for him to risk himself unnecessarily. And I know, child, that such a delay might take an uncomfortably long period of time.” The front half of the centipede’s legs lifted, and Tom had the impression of a disapproving old lady peering over her glasses at him and Corrine. “I dare say, too long; and I suspect what you’re talking about is required to go up to a tier-three ritual. However, there is nothing stopping us from teaching you theory to let you design and create the tier-two version.”


    He was both excited and appalled.


    Corrine caught his expression and started laughing at him. “Be warned, both Throm and Vturalta love to lecture.”


    “Child, I’m confident that Vturalta and myself can push you to the next level.”


    Tom’s mind raced. He knew exactly what he was being offered, but suffering through constant lecturers did not sound like a fun use of his time.Stolen story; please report.


    “I want to learn,” he lied poorly, knowing that at their ages they would almost certainly pick up both the untruth, and, hopefully, the distaste he associated with that type of studious learning. “But I’ve learned this ritual by duplicating a fully formed framework, which was a method that worked well for me. Basically, I was given a mesh of fine wire about as large as the table,” he pointed at the one they were gathered around. “It detailed the entire ritual. Then I spent days practicing inscribing its lines into the interior of the wood. Could you do something similar?”


    Throm glanced at Vturalta, then back to Tom. “Are you saying you were just copying things dumbly?” He seemed to be astounded by the idea.


    “I’m six,” Tom pointed out to them, knowing that on the translation they were hearing four. “What you’re talking about would take years of foundation courses. I haven’t lived long enough for something like that.”


    “No, we understand,” Throm interrupted. “Our young are the same. You humans always speak so maturely that I make mistakes about your development levels. Among my species, our wormlings can’t do any advanced construction like this until their second malt.”


    Tom looked at him blankly.


    “Between twenty and thirty years,” Throm corrected. Once more, he was hearing things in earth years to make it easier to understand. “I was only surprised you could do this through memorisation. It is not an easy ritual.”


    “I’ve always had an excellent memory. So, if you can create an example of the ritual, I can start building.”


    Throm was still hesitant.


    “We won’t be giving him anything,” Vturalta pointed out. “And definitely not an artefact.”


    “I don’t think you should risk it.” Amkhael disagreed.


    Throm nodded at him. “I respect your view, Amkhael, but it’s my choice and my risk. I’ll do it.”


    Then the many arms on his back became active. About twenty down one side were participating. The weapons were quickly stored in order to free up the hands. Some were strapped against his body, others were placed in spatial bags. More wire than he had ever employed in golem construction appeared, and it was a better one, too. The quantity was especially impressive because stone golems required a lot of wire to function, as you had to build mana flow pathways which were equivalent to a human’s circulatory system.  The hands immediately started manipulating it and forming it into complicated shapes. Specialised tools were used to bend the wire precisely.


    “Are you a jeweller or something?” Tom asked.


    The giant centipede laughed deeply. “It’s a side hobby.”


    “Throm’s over ten thousand years old.” Vturalta told him. “Even if he is fighting ninety percent of the time, that’s still leaving him thousand years to learn various crafts. You’ll find that he is a master in many disciplines.”


    “I’m a crazed warrior by my people’s standard, but I limit battle situations to less than two-thirds of my life. My main hobby is to carve stone.” His body was undulating sub-consciously to broadcast his sudden excitement at the topic. “Here, let me show you.” As massive as the creature was, it was behaving like any excitable amateur hobbyist. The closest hand to his head produced a crystal, then pointed it at the wall.


    Tom had to concentrate in order to disable his ability to pierce illusions so that he could see it. He squinted as he tried to comprehend what was being displayed. It was a centipede, with multiple segments crawling up a mound. But there was white at the top, then a section of brown and then green below. He struggled to understand the medium, but it was vaguely familiar. Then he realised what it was, but surely it couldn’t be that. The concept was ridiculous. However, even if it was a stupid question, he had to ask. “Is… Is that a mountain?”


    “Only a little one.” Throm confirmed. “Barely five kilometres high.”


    Tom swallowed heavily. That was over half the height of Mount Everest but, based on the image, Tom couldn’t disagree. That was snow and trees, and, now that his mind had adjusted to the concept, he could imagine someone with sufficient magic and time doing something outlandish like this. “What rank are you?”


    “Fuck, Tom. Show some manners.” Corrine interjected. “Don’t ask questions like that. They’re rude. Sorry, guys, he’s an idiot.”


    The gathered open competitors burst out laughing.


    “He’s a child, Corrine,” Throm said gently. “Wormlings make mistakes.”


    “But he should know better.” Corrine glared at Tom.


    He decided to ignore her. She didn’t know about Social Silence, and, while he had known the question could cause offense, he had also figured that the skill would protect him. It was impossible for any of his thoughtless comments to truly damage anyone’s opinions of him without the skills kicking in. It was worth probing, because he wanted to know how strong these native powerhouses were.


    “It is just you’d have to be really powerful to carve mountains as a hobby. Is it a self-sculpture?”


    Throm laughed again, all of his arms jiggling. “No, that’s a tribute to Shoon, the greatest of us.”


    “Is he stronger than you?”


    “Yes, he reached rank two hundred and fifty-six. We thought he would ascend to be a GOD, but it was not to be. When he died, he had risen to two hundred and sixty-three, and those eight extra levels took him almost a thousand years. It’s difficult to gain experience at that point, even with access to a bottomless trial.”


    “A bottomless trial,” he breathed in amazement. It was considered the most powerful of the different trial types, because, if you had access, you could raise yourself to be significantly stronger than the nearby wild lands. Effectively, it would mean giving your species’ safety against everything out there that could threaten them. The fact that the drops you found once you completed floors above a hundred could sustain a species’ knowledge base and prop up the next generation was also important.


    “Everyone in the open section has to have access to a similar resource. Shoon was at the level that every floor took a month to complete.”


    “Is that how long you take per floor? What ranks are you delving in?”


    The mood shifted slightly; it became less amused, less forgiving. “Child, I know you are young and probably think you were clever for asking around the topic rather than probing directly, but it is rude to push a warrior to divulge their rank.” Throm said gently. “I acknowledge we are here amongst friends, but it is still important to stay within the bounds of politeness. I am nowhere near what Shoon achieved. I’m rank one hundred and ninety.”


    “Throm, you shouldn’t indulge him.” Amkhael said with annoyance. “Now he’ll be asking everyone.”


    “And if he persists with such a course of foolishness, no one will begrudge you disciplining him. Wormlings must be taught the consequences of their actions, after all.” Throm said, unconcerned.


    “I’m the highest,” Vturalta volunteered. “At two hundred and ten; but don’t ask anyone else. Throm and I have the power to spare and come from eternal empires, so we can be more open about such things and risk no consequences.”


    “Eternal empires?”


    Throm laughed at his expression. “It’s just a name for empires with multiple cataclysmic powerhouse threats and a sustained existence of over a hundred thousand years.”


    Tom’s brain shut down a little at that casual quoting of a time period that was longer than humans had existed on Earth, at least in their modern form, especially when he got the feeling that there were lots of eternal empires out there. The scale of Existentia remained something he couldn’t truly comprehend. It was just too large for him to envision, even if logically he could state facts about it. Ideas like an eternal empire were still capable of taking his breath away.


    “Wow. Eternal. It’s just - nations on that scale - they’re…” Tom stopped talking as, abruptly, a shudder went through the massive centipede.


    Bright light played over the wire that Throm had been creating, and the previously stiff metal melted and lost its structure. It dripped down, with most of it falling on the giant centipede, and it was hot enough that it burned furrows into the thick skin. Throm didn’t even flinch. Instead, all of his arms and legs went limp and his entire body sunk to rest fully on the ground rather than being supported by his feet. The antenna which had always been moving stilled, and his expressive mouth that communicated most of his emotions became slack.


    “That’s not good,” Amkhael said, hovering in the air. The body language interpreter told him that the rock was expressing either fear or sympathy, or both.


    “Skipped warning and went straight to punishment.” Vturalta agreed. “I guess the system considered that to be undue interference.”


    Concern spiked through Tom. None of the body language comforted him. Whatever was happening to Throm was a blank spot that the usual interpreting function told him nothing about. Vturalta was the most stable one among the others, and even she was agitated. All the feathers of the bird had puffed, which meant it was preparing to flee, and Amkhael’s body language had become more extreme. He alternated between wanting to fight and sinking into the ground to hide.


    “What’s happening?” Tom demanded.


    “There are rules about assistance,” she explained quietly. “Passing on knowledge is fine, but the system decided what Throm was creating counted as an artefact. Which is judged, as you can see, harshly.”


    “But he hadn’t even created half of it!”


    The armoured octopus shifted to face Tom. “And the fact you knew that is part of the problem. You learnt something from the artefact; hence the punishment.”


    “I didn’t mean… I’m sorry.”


    “Not your fault, young one.” Throm whispered, his voice slurring slightly. The mouth was partially functioning again, but had clearly not fully recovered. “It was just a warning, and a minor one at that.”


    “It didn’t look minor,” Amkhael said.


    The way the other two adults glared at the rock told Tom and Corrine everything they needed to know. Throm had been lying to make them feel better.


    “I’m sorry.”


    “Child, it’s fine.” Throm continued gently. “It was my choice to push the boundaries, and I’ve been reprimanded to remind me that’s never a good idea. Nothing has truly been lost. We’ll just have to teach you as opposed to showing you, like in the original plan.”


    Vturalta took over the conversation, probably due to the effort Throm had to expend to speak.


    What followed was some of the most boring theory Tom had ever heard. It made April’s presentation nattering on while he worked seem engaging. Multiple times both Vturalta and Throm were forced to stop mid-sentence, their throats having stopped working as they ran into a geas, but there were no more punishments dished out, as far as he could tell.


    Three hours of lecturing later, Tom was well and truly over it. All they had covered was that him duplicating the tier-one looking forward in time component two dozen times was not how you were supposed to increase the analysis horizon.


    “I’m struggling,” Tom finally interjected. Corrine and the other two open contestants had long since excused themselves, so it was just him and the two lecturers. “My species needs nine hours of sleep.”


    “We’re aware, child.” Throm said. “I just got too excited and kept you from your sleeping cave. Go with my blessings.”


    A moment later, he was back in his body. He was in bed and the rush of memories told Tom that his avatar could not go to sleep without him. Instead, it had tried to stay still, but there had been a small amount of uncomfortable tossing and turning. For all the advantages the new space had, avoiding sleep was not one of them.