He pushed the door open—
—into the relative quiet of the inner courtyard. Relative, because the low groans of the wounded and the tense scrape of shifting armor filled the space.
A knot of soldiers stood ready near the center, weapons mostly lowered but grips tight. Their jerky movements and haunted eyes betrayed the thin veneer of bravery. Even the bravest have breaking points, Finn observed grimly. This felt less like a secure fallback point and more like a last stand waiting to happen.
“Your Highness!” A man in slightly more ornate, yet still practical, armor snapped to attention. Relief warred with tension on his face. Finn recognized the nameplate etched subtly on his pauldron: Kaelen WhiteTurnip. “We were worried. Captain Rylan instructed us to secure this location and await your arrival.” His eyes darted back towards the door Finn had just entered. “Is he… Is he alright? Did something happen?”
Finn’s mind raced. Okay, Rylan sent me ahead. He needs them focused here, not worrying about him. He forced confidence into his voice. “He’s fine,” he lied, hoping it sounded convincing. “Holding the line. We were separated by the fighting. He sent me ahead, said he’d join us shortly.”
Before Kaelen could respond, another figure stepped forward. A woman clad in dark, supple leather armor that seemed to absorb the dim light. She moved like smoke, quick and fluid, her eyes sharp as freshly honed steel, constantly scanning the shadowed corners of the courtyard. Finn noted the faintest tremor in the hand gripping her twin daggers. Stealthy, perceptive… but rattled.
“Lyra Nakamura, your scout, Your Highness,” she said, her voice a low murmur, steady despite the tension coiling in her stance.
Two more figures shuffled forward, clearly part of this ‘team’. A man fussing with a complex-looking crossbow, adorned with glowing Aetherium conduits, and a young woman whose medical satchel was overshadowed by the bright, softly humming Aetherium bands clasped around her wrists.
“Silas Vance, marksman, at your service,” the man said, nervously adjusting a small metallic cylinder on the side of his crossbow. His voice was level, but his gaze kept flicking towards the courtyard entrance. He muttered something under his breath about “energy flow calibration.” Fidgety. Needs to focus.
“Anya Volkov, Medic Weaver, Your Highness,” the young woman added, her voice soft but carrying a note of firmness. The gentle blue glow from her wristbands cast faint, calming light, a small island of perceived safety in the chaos.
But as Anya stepped forward to properly greet him, she stumbled slightly on the uneven flagstones. Her Aetherium wristbands flared erratically for a split second—a reaction, Finn guessed, tied to her momentary panic.
Unfortunately, that flare interfered directly with Silas’s crossbow, which he was still nervously aiming vaguely upwards while fiddling with it.
Zap! A high-pitched yelp escaped Silas as his fingers spasmed reflexively on the trigger mechanism.
TWANG!
The crossbow bolt fired, not at an enemy, but straight up. It zipped through the air, struck a crumbling stone gargoyle overhead, and then began its descent… seemingly in agonizing slow motion… directly towards Finn’s head.
Are you KIDDING ME?! Time seemed to warp. Finn saw his entire, remarkably short, adult life flash before his eyes – job applications, bad interviews, Alex’s game streams…
Thunk.
A small chunk of loosened stone bounced harmlessly off his head. The bolt itself clattered onto the flagstones a foot away.
Right. Aetherium tech reacting to emotional states. Finn’s HR brain, bizarrely kicking in, supplied the thought. Note to self: Need risk assessment protocols for emotionally volatile Aether Weavers.
His gaze flicked from the nervous marksman to the stumbling medic, then to the slightly shaky scout.
Is THIS the team I’m supposed to rely on? A wave of cold dread washed over him. No wonder the original Prince Capisco died in the tutorial!
Then the second, even colder realization hit him. Wait! THAT prince… is ME now.
His stomach plummeted. God! We are SO toast!
The courtyard froze around his internal meltdown.
Silence, thick and sudden, descended as everyone else stared, mouths agape, eyes wide with disbelief, processing the near-miss that had just unfolded.
Kaelen turned sheet-white. He looked from the fallen bolt to Finn, then whirled on Silas, his voice escalating from a strangled gasp to a near-scream.
“By the One True Light! SILAS! You goofball! Are you trying to be funny? You could have KILLED him! What in the Light’s name was THAT?!” The intricate tech weave in Kaelen’s armor pulsed with light, visibly reacting to his commander’s sheer panic and fury.
Finn caught a fleeting glimpse of notifications on his HUD:
[HUD: Kaelen initiating Skill Activation: Kinetic Barrier!]
[HUD: Nanoscale Actuators Powering Up…]
[HUD: Activation Sequence Halted.]
Kaelen’s hand, which had instinctively moved towards his vambrace controls, froze mid-air as he processed that the immediate danger – the falling bolt – had passed. The potential shield was no longer needed, but the horrifying reality of the near-fatal blunder settled in, fueling his rage. He refocused his fury entirely on the mortified marksman.
Silas looked like he’d just seen a ghost—or worse, the Angel of Judgment himself demanding an explanation. He stammered, clutching the offending crossbow like a shield against Kaelen’s wrath. “I-I-I’m s-s-so sorry, Your H-Highness! I d-didn’t m-m-mean to! The… the calibration… it slipped!”
Anya, meanwhile, had gone supernova red. She stood stock-still, trying desperately to shrink into herself, to become invisible. Finn could practically hear her frantic, silent mantra: “Oh god oh god oh god oh god…” She looked like she might actually explode from sheer mortification.
Then Lyra moved. The faint, almost casual smirk she’d worn earlier vanished, replaced by the sharp, assessing focus of a scout evaluating battlefield damage—which, Finn realized with a jolt, was him.
She was at his side in an instant, faster than he could track, her hand hovering near his arm, inches from the spot where the stone had hit. Her voice, though low, held an undercurrent of near-frantic urgency. “Are you alright, Your Highness? Was that a graze? Let me see.”
Her sudden proximity, her competence radiating off her like heat… it was overwhelming. It felt like a subtle assertion of dominance, a silent reminder: I’m the skilled warrior here. You’re the clueless HR guy playing dress-up.
Brain… short-circuiting. Lyra’s intense gaze and undeniable presence felt like a direct denial-of-service attack on the overloaded servers of his mind.
Focus, Finn! Project confidence! She can probably smell the fear!
He desperately tried to arrange his features into something resembling calm composure, battling the urge to hyperventilate. “I’m… fine, Lyra,” he managed, cringing inwardly as his voice cracked slightly. Project presence, command the room… damn it, this is harder than the leadership seminar made it sound.
He met her sharp eyes, trying to project an authority he absolutely did not possess. “Thank you for your concern.”
A tiny smirk flickered at the corner of her lips. Was she mocking him? He couldn’t tell. Maintain eye contact. Show genuine interest… why didn’t I google HR flirting techniques instead of risk management matrices?!
But just as quickly as it appeared, the smirk vanished. She gave a brief, curt nod, her professional mask sliding back into place, and stepped back slightly, her gaze already scanning the courtyard entrances again.
She left Finn standing there, feeling even more confused, inadequate, and acutely aware of how badly out of his depth he truly was.
Just as Kaelen opened his mouth, likely to continue berating the hapless Silas, the heavy oak door Finn had entered through burst open again.
Rylan stood framed in the doorway like a tempest made manifest. His presence instantly commanded the courtyard, silencing the lingering tension. His jaw was locked tight, radiating controlled intensity. A faint, warm golden aura shimmered around him, a tangible field of power that seemed to push back the gloom and somehow reassure despite the grim set of his face. His knuckles were white where he gripped his sword hilt. His eyes burned with a suppressed need for order, a fierce focus that drew every gaze.
“Enough,” Rylan declared, his voice cutting through the air like a honed blade, sharp and final. “This is not the time for accidents or arguments. We need to organize. Now.”
Instantly, Finn’s new ‘team’ snapped ramrod straight, drawn to Rylan’s authority like iron filings to a magnet. Shoulders straightened, faces hardened with renewed resolve. Even Silas seemed to stand a little taller, though his face remained pale.
A surge of genuine hope flooded Finn. Okay. Okay, with Rylan here, maybe… maybe we actually have a chance.
But even as relief washed over him, his HR brain, annoyingly persistent, immediately started analyzing the dynamic. Disorganized defense. Near-fatal incompetence. Clear need for defined roles and improved communication. He needed to figure out their strengths, weaknesses, potential synergies… maximize efficiency. Create a risk assessment matrix for… interdimensional monster attacks? Boost team morale despite imminent death? And somehow, somehow, make his own entirely non-combat skills useful. Fast.
Team bonding activities are needed… immediately, the thought popped up, absurdly specific. Wait, do team bonding activities even work in real life? Outside of awkward corporate retreats? Great! I should have paid more attention in that workshop…
His internal planning session was violently interrupted.
A low hum filled the air, dissonant and unpleasant. Deep beneath the flagstones, something stirred. A dark object embedded in the center of the courtyard, previously unnoticed amidst the chaos, began to pulse with a malevolent red light.
The light grew stronger, casting long, eerie shadows that danced like specters. The ground beneath their feet began to shake – not the distant rumble of battle, but something localized, intense. Cracks snaked across the stone floor, spreading rapidly like black spiderwebs.
The courtyard, their supposed safe haven, suddenly felt like a claustrophobic, crumbling cage.
Finn’s burgeoning hope evaporated, replaced by a fresh wave of ice-cold fear. His troubles weren’t just not over; they were escalating. The ground trembled more violently now, and Finn’s stomach lurched as the fissures widened beneath his feet.
His eyes were fixed on the source – that dark, pulsing shard. What IS that thing? he wondered, unable to tear his gaze away from its ominous, blood-red glow. It seemed to resonate with a raw, dark power, its pulsing light feeling sickeningly alive.
A deep sense of foreboding settled over him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this shard held a sinister secret, something intrinsically tied to this world, something that was about to change everything. Again.
Chapter 4: Character Stat Info
• Kaelen “The Bastion” WhiteTurnip (Gladiator 1★)
- Level: 2
- HP: 120/150
- Energy: 80/100
- Weapon: Aether-Imbued Warhammer (Military Issue)
- Ability:
- Kinetic Barrier (Active)– Deploys a nanotech shield linked to his Aether field, deflecting damage and protecting allies.
- Background: Kaelen, known for his defensive skills, is a steadfast protector. His presence makes him a cornerstone in battle, though he hides his anxiety behind humor.
• Lyra “The Whisper” Nakamura (Ninja 1★)
- Level: 2
- HP: 120/120
- Energy: 50/50 (Controlled Usage)
- Weapons: Aether-Imbued Ninja Daggers (Military Issue) with enhanced edges powered by her Aether. 15 Aether-Imbued Shuriken (Ranged).
- Ability:
- Phase Shift (Active)– Briefly phases through obstacles using energy-infused armor.
- Background: Lyra is a master of stealth, agility, and charm. She infiltrates with ease, making her a formidable opponent.
• Silas “The Eye” Vance (Crossbowman 1★)
- Level: 2
- HP: 100/100
- Energy: 69/75
- Equipment: Aether-Infused Crossbow (Military Issue) with an integrated power system. 36 Aether-Imbued Bolts (Ammo).
- Ability:
- Rapid Reload (Active) – Increases reload speed for a short duration.
- Background: Silas, a former turret engineer with a knack for tech, is a valuable marksman seeking redemption.
• Anya “Spark” Volkov (Medic Weaver 1★)
- Level: 2
- HP: 110/110
- Energy: 115/120
* Equipment: Aether-Imbued Wristband (Military Issue) – Amplifies her healing touch. - Ability:
- Healing Touch (Active) – Focused energy beams from her wristband to heal.
- Background: Anya is a compassionate medic whose clumsiness is overshadowed by her desire to save lives, despite her struggles controlling her powers.