Over the centuries, the Shrine has grown from a small, single-room building into this towering edifice. Often, the Shrine is the last chance for an individual to make a difference as they beg for a new Class, a new Skill, knowledge on how to gain a Title that will change their life.
And all too often, they fail. But we don’t talk about that part.
Thousands of supplicants walk into the building, streaming through the numerous doors to journey within. I step to the side, watching as sapients walk, hop, glide, and lope forward. Some walk with confidence. Others shrink and slide within, scared of their own shadows. But the glowing blue building swallows them all without hesitation, accepting their worship without judgment.
“First time?” The voice catches me by surprise. Not by the speaker’s presence but that they chose to speak to me at all.
“Yes.” I turn to the speaker, blinking a little at the masked, android-like face. I stare, realizing a bit late that he breathes like a living organism. Whoever, whatever it was, it’s now more machine than organic.
“I see you’re one of the blessed.” It inclines its head toward Ali in his glowing, crystal form.
“You can see him?” I raise an eyebrow. An unusual ability, but not uncommon.
“The System has gifted me such sight.” A spark, a flood of Mana that does nothing as the creature speaks. “But I’m rude. I am Ote, the Six Hundred Eighteenth version of its line.”
I want to ask but suppress my curiosity. I have other things to do. “Nice to meet you, Ote.”
If Ote seems perturbed by my lack of introduction, it doesn’t show it. “It is a small thing, to ask the System for its guidance. Just walk the halls. When you feel it is right, offer your gift. And if you think it appropriate, you may ask it for guidance. If the System wills it, it will answer.”
“How long a walk?” I’m wondering how I’m going to find the Duchess in the building, because she sure as hell hasn’t told me.
Ali’s busy looking for her, but with the sheer amount of Mana the Shrine represents, both of our abilities to scan the surroundings have fallen to meters.
“That is a matter of contention.” Ote opens his arms. “Some walk the halls for decades, making their plea. Others say that the System is all-knowing, all-giving when it wants. And as such, a single brief sojourn is all that is needed.”
“And the bigger the Gift, the better chance you’ll get an answer?” I say wryly, even as I tell Ali to keep looking.
“Not at all. The System does not care for what you gift. It is, after all, already known to it. It is the act itself, rather than the contents, that matter.” Ote drops his buzzy voice and leans in. “Or so the priests say. Me, I try to give the best I can.”
I snort but watch as Ote wanders off. Practical and religious. “Interesting guy.”
“More than you know.” Ali updates my minimap with a map of the entire building. Along with it, there’s a pathway that’s marked out and an x with a timer on it. “A little gift.”
“Sneaky.” I eye the time and distance, then the crowd. I sigh and walk. Not much time if I want to make it there as scheduled.
We walk through the crystal hallways in silence, the air within chilly, lower than human comfortable. Occasionally it’s warmed by a passing sapient creature, one burning with the flames of its own body like the salamander-man or a living lava ball. Each passing sapient Systemer adds to the mixed aroma of the building, creating a unique stench that has me breathing through my mouth while I attempt to forget about the stink. It’s the least pleasant parts of a skunk’s tail, an uncared for barnyard, and a compost pile mixed together and amplified.
Most penitents move in silence, which makes the few who chant, sing, or orate all the more stark in appearance. Passages of Systemer-creed are spoken, sung, or otherwise announced, while others beg for salvation and help from the crystal walls. Occasionally, stifled sobs break the silence, only to be ignored by the uncaring public.
As I turn the umpteenth passageway, Ali breaks our internal silence. “I’m a little surprised how few of you humans have taken up the Systemer creed.”
“Why?” I send back.
“Just seems like you humans liked your religion.”
“We’re rather a stubborn bunch.” I briefly wonder what it’s like for those who still hold onto the old religions. But it’s not something I’ve ever bothered to look into.
Having edged his way into the conversation, Ali drops his next statement. “Surprised you didn’t take it up either.”
“Was never religious.”
“Why?”
My answering silence is met by a rather impatient hmmm across the mental network. When Ali continues to send the same hmmm, I give in. If nothing else, it’ll cover the rather boring walk.
“I don’t trust people. Not really. And all those religions, they’re touched by humanity. Religious text copied over and over again by self-serving, short-sighted, careless, and dumb humans. I’ve seen code a year old messed up beyond all recognition. How am I supposed to trust books hundreds of years old?”
“So you don’t believe in god? A higher power?” Ali asks.
“Didn’t say that. Just that I’m not sure that anyone has ever gotten it right. It doesn’t matter anyway.”
“Why not?”
“If there’s a god worthy of following, then he’s worth following if I believe in him or not. And to paraphrase a wise man, if he isn’t, then to hell with him.”
The look Ali gives me makes it hard to keep my face straight. While I’m not lying, I’ve never really thought much about gods before the System. And afterward, for a long time, I was too busy trying to stay alive to worry about what came after. Even now, with all the evidence of the System being something artificial, I haven’t been convinced either way. The problem with religion is it requires a leap of faith. To ignore the logic of science and good sense, the contradictions that arise, and just believe. I’ve never been able to do that.
As for the Systemers themselves, in many ways, they’re the complete opposite of Questors like me. They take the System to be a god, to be something all-powerful. And I admit, by factual evidence and effect on everyday life, the System has meddled much more than any remote god. But Questors like me believe there’s a reason, a truth to what the System really is. And Systemers just believe.
At least for the main religion. There are obviously offshoots, heresies, and individuals who combine the insanity and the obstinance of both parties, focused on both worshiping and understanding the System itself. Many of those have become Corrupt Questors, known for their unbending pursuit of the truth without care or morality.
I have way too many memories of those people in my library.
We walk together, traveling the hallways of Mana, passing supplicants as we follow the map. Subconsciously, I adjust the speed of our passage as we move to ensure that I arrive on time.
The longer I walk, the more I realize that this is an ingenious method of meeting. We’re all walking through the shrine, and only through chance or planning would one meet another within.
We get to the passageway just a little early, and somehow, I’m not surprised to see a familiar figure. Hondo Ehrish, Weaponmaster for Clan Kangana, makes his appearance, walking ahead of who I expect is the Duchess. He looks well, like himself. Big, strong, slightly scarred. Grumpy.
So many years have passed since our first meeting. And he is no longer an Advanced Class, but a Master Class now. A low-Level Master Class, since his duties keep him away from the dungeons and the planets where he could Level. It’s strange, to me, to think that I have passed Hondo in personal strength, when years ago, he was such a fearsome opponent.