Elena clung to me as I spun around and knelt to lift her. She buried her face in my shoulder, her sobs rattling through me.
The Architect moved forward, sorrow etched on his features, then paused as I straightened. “I know this must be terrifying,” he said softly. “Even the most advanced species endures great upheaval—and trauma—during integration. But it’s also a period of profound growth, with infinite possibilities ahead. The system exists to give you the tools to reach your potential. There’s no malice here; we’ve done everything to ease this transition.”
Elena sniffed, her voice muffled. “Yeah? Well, how about asking first! It’s all gone—my friends, my school, my Baby!” She dissolved into fresh sobs.
Of course—Baby. Every child has that one thing. It might be a stuffed animal, a blanket, maybe a toy. It brings comfort in the dark, a talisman of safety they cling to when the world is uncertain. They love and adore it in a way adults just don’t understand. That thing that even once they’ve grown up and moved away they will insist on keeping in a box somewhere — because on some level, forged in the earliest years of their life — they believe that so long as that thing is safe, so are they. In Elena’s case that was Baby - a stuffed doll.
I rocked her gently. “I’m so sorry, love,” I whispered, swaying her as I once did when she was small—back when a hug could fix the world.
The Architect’s eyes widened. “A baby? I wasn’t aware of another child in your household. There must be an error—” He tapped at invisible screens in midair, panic creeping into his voice.
“No,” I cut in. “Baby isn’t a child—she’s her favorite stuffed toy.”
Elena’s wails broke out again. “She’s not just a toy! She’s my baby. I know she’s not real, but she’s my baby. I take care of her, and she takes care of me!”
The Architect’s face softened with compassion. He stared past us for a moment, as if consulting unseen data, then nodded. He held out his hand; the air shimmered, and Baby appeared.
Elena burst from my arms and ran to clutched her doll. I met the Architect’s gaze, gratitude lighting my eyes, and mouthed, “Thank you.”
Elena, less reserved, threw her arms around him. “THANK YOU! Thank you! Thank you! You’re the best!” she cried. He stiffened briefly, surprised, then wrapped her in a gentle hug. “You’re welcome, little one,” he said. “This is hard enough without being needlessly separated from those we love.”
“What about my mom? My pets?” Elena tentatively asked looking up into the Architect’s face.
“That is beyond my power to change, and for that, I apologize. But let me reassure you, your mother has been integrated and chose to bond with both your cat and your dog. They are together, just as I hope all of you will be reunited as quickly as possible.” His voice held a mix of empathy and surrender. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was left unsaid.
Before I could probe further, Elena stepped back, realizing she was still holding onto the Architect. She held Baby with one arm and wiped her nose with the other. Pausing, she looked at the Architect as if seeing him clearly for the first time. “You’re not human, are you?” she asked out of the blue.
“What makes you say that?” the Architect asked, his face showing genuine interest.
“When I look at you—when I hugged you—you’re all shimmery,” Elena explained. “It’s like you’re there but not really. Like what I’m seeing doesn’t match what is.”
“Well, well, well. You’re quite perceptive,” he acknowledged. “You’re right. I come from a species long forgotten by the larger system. One of the first to be integrated. I find this form more...palatable...to those I guide through the process. Would you like to see my true form? I must warn you, it might be overwhelming for your limited senses.”
Before I could respond, Elena eagerly agreed. Suddenly, the world shifted. Where the Architect had stood, a 10-foot tall, slender, vaguely humanoid figure now appeared. Its form was gracefully symmetrical, with an alien elegance. It had six arms radiating from the torso in a hexagonal arrangement, each ending in six-fingered hands. Its head was elongated and angular, tapering to a slight point at the top, with no visible mouth or ears. Its eyes were six glowing orbs arranged in a hexagonal pattern, each seeming to contain entire galaxies. Its skin was smooth and metallic, flowing between off-white and dusky gray, with fractal patterns dancing across its surface. Staring at these patterns made me feel as if time and space were bending and reshaping. I felt drawn into them, sensing some hidden truth. I became dizzy, my brain growing fuzzy. It felt like I was grasping something so simple and fundamental it was shocking I hadn’t understood it before, while also feeling the universe itself was folding in on something so vast and ancient its entirety was beyond comprehension.
Then the vision faded, and the familiar, human-looking Architect stood before us again.
“That was sooooo cool!” Elena exclaimed, her face lit up with wonder.
The Architect paused, looking at her with joy. “Not the usual reaction I get,” he said. “You’re quite special, aren’t you?”
“Yep! That’s what my mom and dad always tell me. I’m very clever and brave!” she replied without a trace of doubt. I couldn’t help but smile.
“As it should be,” he acknowledged with a slight smile. “Now, let’s get on to why we’re here.”
“Wait a second,” I interrupted. “I understand our universe is being combined into something larger. What’s this about expanding our world? Remnants of other worlds?” I asked, trying to piece together the fragments of information I had gathered.
“Your universe is being integrated into what is known as the multiverse—a collection of interconnected universes,” he explained patiently. “These universes vary greatly, from other planes of existence to complex universes similar to your own, to places best described as ‘weird and beyond explanation.’ As part of this integration, your universe is flooded with various energies, resulting in the physical expansion of all space, including your world. Practically, your world will grow larger, and its inhabitants will undergo various changes and mutations. Included in this are what we call Remnants—fragments of previous worlds, species, and the like, that were removed from the multiverse and placed in stasis for later use.”
He continued, “While I’m sure you have many questions, I’m limited in what information I can provide at this time. We’ve found that too much explanation upfront often results in information not being retained. I assure you, as you grow, more information will become available.”
“Okay, I guess I can accept that,” I said, pausing to look at Elena. “Love, how much of that did you understand?”
She gave me a look that suggested I was being silly—an expression that was becoming increasingly common as she grew older. “All of it, Dad. It’s not hard,” she said with an eye roll, another gesture that was becoming more frequent.
The Architect tried to suppress a laugh at my discomfort. “I should mention that, similar to the system prompts, the information I’m relaying to you isn’t just through verbal exchange. That’s merely how your brain is interpreting it. The knowledge is being directly translated into your brain in a way that makes sense to you.”
“That’s handy, I guess. Also a bit disconcerting and invasive…” I muttered, mostly to myself. I nodded and gestured for him to continue.
“Excellent. Now, let’s begin.”
With a wave of his hand, the Architect made two character sheets appear in the air before us—one for me and one for Elena. Mine zoomed into the upper third.
Cain Alighieri
Species: Human (Homo Fabulis) Level 1
Grade: G
Classes: LOCKED
Primary Stats:
Second Order Stats:
I scanned my display at once. Before I could speak, Elena blurted, “Hey! Why is he stronger than me? Look at my muscles!” as she flexed towards the Architect.
He replied, “You’re mighty, but you’re still a child. It’d be odd—and, frankly, rather embarrassing for your father—if a six-year-old outdid him in strength. Though I will say you surpass him in other areas.” He motioned at her screen. I leaned over and read her stats: Creativity 10 (13), Charisma 9 (11), and Resilience 6 (17).
“Before you ask anymore questions, let me explain what you see,” he said, shifting into a calm lecturing tone. “Your name and species are listed here—focus on the species entry for details.” I obeyed, and a new prompt appeared:
—
Human (Homo Fabulis)
A rare human subspecies, Homo Fabulis—“man of stories”—are defined by their love of narrative. Physically frailer and less mentally sharp than most other human species, they often vanish early in their world’s evolution. Yet their storytelling gift makes them extraordinary problem-solvers and creators. They build communities and identities around shared myths and ideologies. This can be both a strength and a detriment as few others species are as focused upon labelling and classifying things to fit into easy narratives as they are.
As a G-Grade human, you may choose a new ability or trait at levels 1, 3, 5, 10, 15, and 20, and you gain +3 free stat points each level.
—
“Umm… no offense,” I ventured, “but we’re Homo sapiens, not ‘Homo Fabulis.’ And why Latin?” I asked, half-expecting him to scold me.
The Architect’s eyes crinkled with mild amusement. “The multiverse contains countless species—and many human subspecies. Homo sapiens are indeed one, but your scientists misclassified you. Homo sapiens are celebrated for wisdom, emotional equilibrium, and logical thinking. Would you say that fits your people?” His tone was lightly sarcastic.
“Point taken.” I replied with a wry grin. My grin grew even bigger as I began to consider how some more conservative individuals might react to our new species name. “And the Latin?”
“It isn’t Latin,” he explained. “When the system feeds data into your brain, it uses a primal, universal language embedded in the fabric of creation. Your mind instantly translates it into terms you understand. The same applies when you reference system-generated terms aloud or in writing.”
He paused. “Don’t fret over your species label—it’s what you are now and like all origins, it stays part of you but doesn’t define who you’ll become.”
He paused, and while I was tempted to ask several other questions, I decided to keep my mouth shut for once and just listen. Better late than never Cara, I thought to myself. Cara's face flashed in my mind, and my chest tightened. Where was she? Was she safe? I should be looking for her right now, not standing here discussing stats like this was some game. But Elena needed me focused. I felt torn between my daughter beside me and my wife somewhere out there in this new, monster-filled world. I silently promised myself we'd find Cara next—even as guilt whispered that "next" wasn't soon enough.
I shook myself back to the present as he resumed speaking.
“Your grade reflects your integration with the multiverse and your mastery of its forces. G is the lowest grade. When your species level reaches 25, you’ll rise to F, at which point you’ll choose your first class from System-provided options. Later, you may acquire two more classes—but that’s for another time.”
“How do we level?” I asked, though I had an inkling.
“By earning experience points through various achievements—combat, crafting, any endeavor that shows growth and skill. For your species, any type of experience earned will go towards your level. For classes, you will need to obtain experience in a way that is consistent with your class - that said, don’t worry about that for now.”
“Combat?” Quinn’s voice wavered. “Like fighting?”
“Unfortunately, yes. In much of the multiverse, you might never meet an enemy in person. But on a newly integrated world—especially one who was integrated like yours—the influx of energy from integration often mutates native life or spawns monsters. The system mitigates and guides this energy, but new worlds commonly endure intense conflict in their early years.”
"Monsters?" I stammered. "Actual monsters? Like, we're talking dragons, vampires and the like?" My voice cracked slightly. Part of me—the part that had devoured fantasy novels since childhood—was thrilled at the possibility. The responsible father in me glanced anxiously at Elena, who appeared to be beaming with excitement at the idea of real life monsters.
"Yes," the Architect replied simply. After a pause, he added, "Dragons are unlikely in the immediate future. And remember, not all creatures you'll encounter are hostile. Many will leave you alone if you extend the same courtesy."
“I’m soo going to ride a unicorn” Elena whispered to herself - clearly lost in some fantasy and not fully aware of what else was being said.
He gestured toward my character screen before I could interject. "Your level will cap at 24 for the first month after integration. Elena's cap remains until her age of ascension—typically between sixteen and twenty-five for humans."
That statement brought Elena’s focus back to the conversation at hand and her face darkened at this news. The Architect smoothly pivoted, pointing to our displays. "These primary stats represent your fundamental existence within the multiverse." My screen magnified, highlighting the statistics.
"That's... comprehensive," I muttered.
"Did you imagine your entire being could be reduced to four or five numbers?" he asked with a hint of amusement. "Humans are actually quite straightforward. Other species require far more metrics."
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
"And what do all these mean? Why two numbers for each?" I asked, studying the screen.
"The bracketed figures show your actual values, accounting for any modifiers from items, traits, or abilities. You can toggle between displaying base or modified values according to your preference."
“As for what they do…” he motioned to my screen and each stat highlighted as he began to explain them. “Wisdom is the ability to utilize and apply any information you have; from the most basic sensory information all the way to complex theories about the nature of existence. Intelligence is your ability to analyze and memorize information. Awareness measures your ability to perceive, notice and distinguish between various stimuli, both internal and external. Creativity is your capacity for innovation, abstract thinking and artistic expression.” he paused giving us a moment to digest what he had just said.
“Strength is a measure of raw physical power. Dexterity governs speed, agility, balance, and precision. Vitality reflects overall physical health and stamina. Constitution measures physical durability and the ability to withstand damage and stress. Finally, Charisma relates to your ability to influence, persuade, and connect with others. I should note that it does not affect physical attractiveness or how likeable others find you - it merely enhances your interpersonal acumen. Now any questions before we carry on to second order stats?”
“So many, but maybe it’s just better if you finish this.” I said. I looked over to Elena to see if she had any, but she seemed absorbed staring at her screen with an intense look of concentration.
“Very well. Second order stats are almost identical to your Primary stats with a few exceptions. Primary stats can be increased through the use of stat points, class bonuses, training, items or some form of ability or trait. Second Order stats can not be increased through the use of free stat points. They can be trained once they have been unlocked, but the main way to raise them is by raising their associated primary stats. You also have to unlock them before you gain any active benefit from them. This can be done a variety of ways but usually is done through some form of demonstration of understanding of the relationships between primary stats. As newly integrated humans you both start with resiliency unlocked, as well as any other stats you qualify for.”
“How do we know what primary stats make up a second order stat?” I asked
“Well you should have that figured out in order to unlock it, but you can also try reading its description” he replied with a slight smirk.
A wave of embarrassment crashed over me as I focused on my two second order stats and a prompt appeared.
—
Intuition: The ability to grasp concepts or anticipate outcomes without conscious reasoning. Often experienced as a “gut feeling.” Derived from: Wisdom, Intelligence, Awareness, Creativity
Resiliency: Mental and emotional toughness and endurance. Resiliency is the capacity to endure, process and thrive in spite of pain, stress, grief, and trauma. Derived from: Vitality, Constitution, Wisdom
—
I brushed aside the prompt in my mind and was about to ask another question when Elena spoke first. “How many Second Order stats are there? And why call them ‘second order’? Why not just say secondary stats or something simpler?”
“There’s a wide range of second order stats, and the exact number shifts depending on your species, your grade, and your classes. As for the name—well, it sounds cool,” he replied with a perfectly straight face. I suspected there was more to it, but Elena nodded as if she’d just received profound insight from a wise mentor.
He cleared his throat. “Now, the next sections cover your affinities, traits, abilities—”
I cut him off. So much for staying quiet and listening. “Why aren’t there hit points, stamina, mana, or regeneration rates? This reads like a game rulebook—I’d expect to find them here.”
He paused thoughtfully. “First, games emulate the System, not the other way around. In fact, part of preparing civilizations for integration is guiding them to invent tabletop RPGs or video games like yours—so your people become ready for what’s coming.”
He let that idea sink in. “Your health, stamina, and mana do exist and you’ll use them. The System once assigned specific values to those and several other metrics, but it stopped. It realized the more data you handed individuals, the narrower their focus became. Many promising people obsessively optimized their builds instead of enjoying their experiences. Others relied so heavily on regen rates to calculate acceptable risks that they missed opportunities right before their eyes. So the System decided: sometimes less analytics lead to a richer life. The System isn’t meant to be gamed—it’s meant to be lived.”
I mulled this over and couldn’t fault it. Too much information can blind you or warp your self-assessment. I’d never understood min-maxers who plan every detail in advance—I preferred choices that fit my character’s story and felt right, even if they weren’t “optimal.”
Elena agreed. “That sounds ridiculous. Why base all your decisions on math? You’ve got to have fun and follow your heart.”
“The System wouldn’t disagree with you on that, my young friend,” the Architect said with a smile. “Any more questions before we move on?”
I had a few more, but figured they’d just muddy things. I glanced at Elena; she shook her head no.
“Very well. Now it’s time to learn about magic,” the Architect announced.
“Cool,” Elena and I said together, laughing.
“Jinx,” the Architect teased with a smirk.
Damn it! I thought to myself, unable to speak. Afterall, if you weren’t going to honour something as sacred as the Code of Jinx, what kind of monster were you?
Apparently Elena shared my feelings on the matter though she wasn’t happy about it. Her eyes narrowed to slits, her lips pressed into a thin white line as she glared at the Architect. She jabbed her finger impatiently toward the hovering displays, then crossed her arms with an exaggerated huff that made her entire small frame rise and fall.
“Now the next section will focus on the last couple elements of your character sheet, your Aspects. I promise after this part you actually get to start picking out your starting abilities.” I glanced at Elena, whose legs were practically vibrating. Her fingers drummed against her forearm, and she kept opening and closing her mouth like a fish gasping for air—clearly trying not to speak but desperately wanting too.
“Aspects is a term used to refer to your Affinities, Abilities, Traits, Skills & Spells. First, we have Affinities. Affinities can be difficult to understand but essentially they represent fundamental concepts of the universe. Some can be more elemental in nature, such as fire—”a miniature flame danced above his palm, "—wind—" the flame swirled into a tiny tornado, "—or earth." The tornado collapsed into a perfect sphere of swirling brown and green. “Others may be more conceptual in nature such as love, joy, or time. If a concept exists, there is likely an affinity for it.”
He extinguished the display with a flick of his wrist. “Affinities, as well as traits, abilities and spells, all have a rarity. While normally rarity is an indicator of general power and availability in the multiverse, for affinities it also is a measure of someone’s understanding of the concept.”
With a sweep of his arm toward me, he intoned, "Cain," and my Character Screen expanded with and a new section appeared. Elena's nostrils flared, and she shot him a look of such pure indignation that I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. The Architect then turned to her, "And Elena." Her screen unfurled with the same chiming sound, but somehow more musical. "Your screen should now show you any current affinities you have unlocked. It is not uncommon to not have any, and you will be able to choose another affinity that resonates with you shortly."
—
Affinities:
Abyss (Uncommon), +pending affinity choices
—
Abyss? What was that? I thought to myself and then the description immediately popped up.
—
Abyss Affinity (Uncommon)
All things return to silence. All light fades. The Abyss is the end of cycles, the stilling of chaos and the quiet after the struggle. It is the warm embrace of surrender to the inevitable darkness. It is both annihilation and release. To touch the Abyss is to feel both the peace of rest and the weight of hopelessness in equal measure. Many view it as something evil, but the abyss cares not for morality. It just is. It is the inevitable entropy and conclusion of existence.
—
My stomach knotted with recognition then loosened with a strange relief. The countless nights I'd lain awake, staring at nothing, feeling nothing yet somehow hurting everywhere. I'd struggled with depression throughout most of my life, had fought and surrendered to it in equal measure. While the description painted my depression in cosmic terms, the familiar void it described was unmistakable. Something cold and hollow settled in the pit of my stomach. Part of me wanted to reject it violently, to scream that this darkness wasn't who I was anymore. Instead I turned to it. I knew this place, this feeling. I knew this fight and where it would take me. I see you. I know you. We got this. I whispered to myself, turning a sense of acceptance towards the void within myself. It flared with unexpected warmth. It was an old friend. One who I despised seeing again, but also one whose absence would leave me unrecognizable to myself in the mirror. The Architect's eyes met mine briefly, his mouth opening then closing without sound. He turned away, focusing instead on Elena's bouncing excitement.
"DAD! Look! I got TWO affinities—Epic AND Legendary! That's amazing, right?"
"Most unusual," the Architect replied, eyebrows arching upward. "Newly integrated individuals rarely manifest anything beyond Rare classification, let alone two."
I almost asked about rarity rankings, then caught myself. Instead, I focused on the (Uncommon) label beside my affinity. Another prompt materialized instantly.
—
Rarities: Can be a measure of power, availability, understanding or other forms of value. Rarities are listed below from lowest (Common) to highest (Primordial). Unique rarity falls outside of the scope of this ranking hierarchy and indicates that something is truly one of a kind - regardless of it having god-like powers or being as simple as a toothbrush.
Common
Uncommon
Rare
Epic
Legendary
Mythic
Primordial
Unique
—
Wow. That meant Elena had two affinities at rarities I could barely comprehend—like finding diamonds when I'd only managed to dig up a chunk of quartz. "That's incredible, love," I said, watching her face light up like a sunrise, her eyes crinkling at the corners as her smile stretched ear to ear. "I only got one and it was uncommon. Which ones did you get?" I asked, my voice steady despite my own lingering internal turmoil.
"Imagination, which is Legendary, and Creation, which is Epic. This is so cool. Eeek!" She squealed, bouncing on her toes with such force I thought she might launch herself into the expanse of stars above us, her copper curls bouncing wildly around her flushed face. I couldn't help but smile—even surrounded by cosmic revelations and existential reckonings, she could find pure, unbridled joy. Elena was so wrapped up in her own excitement, spinning in a little circle with her arms outstretched, that she didn't think to ask about my affinity. I watched her celebration and decided my connection to the Abyss could remain my own secret for now.
The Architect paused, giving us a moment to process everything before he continued. "Now let's discuss Traits and Abilities," he said, his fingers tracing invisible patterns in the air. "Think of these as the core of who you are in the multiverse—the very essence of your being that will evolve alongside you." He separated his hands as if holding two distinct objects. "Though similar, they function differently. Traits work passively—always running in the background like your heartbeat. Abilities require your conscious activation, like flexing a muscle."
His expression grew more serious. "Both can evolve through methods you'll discover on your journey, and most can be infused with affinities to enhance their effects. However," he raised a cautionary finger, "such infusions drain your energy and can be hazardous for beginners. I strongly advise against attempting this during combat until you're well-practiced." A wry smile crossed his face. "Though I've yet to meet anyone who actually heeds that warning."
With a flourish of his hands, two new sections materialized on our displays.
—
Traits:
Wired Differently (Unique), Progenitor’s Boon (Unique), Parental Bond (Unique), Integrated! (Unique), Compassionate Aura (Rare) Empathic Bond (Common), Father’s Guidance (Uncommon)
Abilities:
Eternal Sacrifice (Rare), Father’s Protection (Uncommon), Blood to Blood (Uncommon), Identify (Uncommon)
—
Before I could begin to focus on any of my traits and call up descriptions the Architect began speaking again. “Now I am sure you wish to begin diving through all of your traits and abilities, but let's finish up with the rest shall we?” He waved his hand and another section popped up.
—
Spells:
None
—
“Next we have spells—though some combat-focused individuals with fragile egos prefer to call them 'feats,'" the Architect said with a slight eye roll. "Think of spells as abilities' more rigid cousins. They drain your resources like mana or stamina, require focused intent, and sometimes need physical components or rituals. Unlike abilities, spells are fixed—once learned, their fundamental nature never changes. You might master more advanced versions, but each spell remains fixed in its function." He traced a glowing sigil in the air that briefly flared before dissolving. "Attempting to infuse affinities into spells is extremely dangerous—they already contain affinity alignments, and tampering typically results in either creating an entirely new spell or..." he mimicked an explosion with his hands, "...catastrophic failure."
The Architect's expression grew more serious. "Your traits, abilities, and skills will naturally enhance your spellcasting power through various modifiers. Each spell has both a grade and rarity, and you can only learn spells matching your species grade. Don’t let a spell's grade fool you — even a common F-grade Fireball wielded by an A-grade caster could reduce a planet to cinders." With a satisfied nod, he concluded “And now let's move to our final section—skills."
Another prompt appeared before my eyes.
—
Skills:
—
"Skills represent your practical competencies," the Architect explained, gesturing toward my list. "They determine your effectiveness with abilities, traits, and spells—even mundane tasks like crafting. Many newcomers chase flashy abilities while neglecting skill development." His expression grew stern. "This is a grave mistake. Without proper skill foundations, even the most powerful abilities will fail you when needed most." He softened slightly, hands clasping before him. "Take a moment with your character sheet before we select your starting abilities. Consider carefully what will serve your journey."
I scrolled to a trait that had caught my eye earlier, tapping it for details. The description materialized, and my stomach dropped. I read it twice, certain I'd misunderstood. A hot flush crept up my neck as the implications sank in. What the absolute fuck is this? I thought to myself.
