“I've killed just about everything that walks or crawled at one time or another. And I'm here to kill you.”

  - The Unforgiven

  And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him.

  - Revelation 6:8

  The blue, brown and white sphere spun placidly around the sun, its inhabitants blissfully unaware that they were being observed by a greater power.

  “Looks just like home, doesn’t it?” Ascended Master Josephus observed.

  “They all do, don’t they?”

  “With some exceptions, yes.”

  “Do Crucible Integrations ever get less... gruesome?” Ascended Master Yue said. “This is my third one, but the misery and death are hard to stomach, especially when I shrink down to a form with an actual stomach.”

  “You are a newbie,” Josephus commented; he was a veteran of forty Integrations, half of them dealing with Crucible Worlds. “You get used to the misery. Even in worlds not designated as Crucibles, it’s never painless or bloodless, I’m afraid. Not when the System actively integrates a world.”

  They were watching Earth from a pocket dimension that was undetectable by any technology or psychic ability the locals possessed. In honor of the occasion, they had compressed their multi-dimensional selves into their original human bodies, something they rarely did since their Ascendance. Having a physical body became optional after reaching Peak Diamond Rank or SS-Grade, and it turned into a downright burden not too long afterward. But it was something of a tradition for the Ascended Masters tasked with integrating new worlds. Before bringing chaos and death to the unsuspecting sophonts below, they would revisit their almost-forgotten human existence. It reminded them of where they came from. What they were fighting for.

  Josephus went on: “Just keep telling yourself the simple truth: without System Integration, there would be no humans – no life more complex than simple bacteria, even – left alive on this world in twenty-five years, plus or minus five years. Even worse, their immortal souls are likely to be obliterated by the Tribulations headed this way.”

  Yue sighed. “I know.”

  “I know you do. But I thought you might need a reminder.”

  “The horrendous death toll is something I doubt I will become used to.”

  “The System’s latest Iteration is supposed to reduce casualties significantly.”

  “Or make them worse. The simulations vary wildly.”

  “It’s a risk either way,” Josephus admitted. “But it’s a choice between zero survivors if we do nothing, the one to ten percent survival rate of previous Iterations, or this new version, which could lead to a forty percent survival rate in the best-case scenario.”

  “Or the survival of one thousandth of one percent in the worst-case ones.”

  “Yes, the margin of error is shockingly large. We’re giving the local sophonts far more choices in this version. The System believes the risk is worth it.”

  “And the System knows best, yes. I suppose that we will find out soon enough,” Yue said. “Worst case, humanity will not grow strong enough to survive the upcoming Tribulations and everyone will perish other than the few who manage to finagle passage off-world. The locals might even manage to render themselves extinct before the true enemy shows up.”

  Josephus nodded, the gesture coming across as a bit stiff to Yue’s eyes. Becoming corporeal called for long-unused body language.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “Yes, Yue. But I think they will do better than that.”

  “The waste always bothers me. How many worthy candidates will die before having a chance to Ascend to the limits of their potential?”

  “Some. Many or perhaps most, even. That always happens. The new Iteration gives that chance to a higher percentage than the previous ones.”

  “That’s good. Even if many inevitably settle for less than they could achieve.” Yue said. In his human form, his pity for humanity warred with his desire for mortals to grow strong, to Ascend. Failure to do so was worse than death in his eyes.

  “Not everyone can be a warrior,” Josephus said. “Those who offer support are also needed, and they will Ascend in their own way.”

  “Many will choose to be weak. Too many by far.”

  Yue knew that most humans lacked the potential or, worse, the drive to push themselves above their station, and that knowledge instilled a measure of scorn for the billions living on the planet below, blissfully unaware of the cataclysmic change about to descend upon them.

  Josephus sighed. “One moment, you worry that too many will die. The next, you complain that some will live, only to disappoint you. Becoming corporeal is making your emotions overwhelm reason, Yue.”

  Ascended Masters fell into those arguments every time they assumed their flesh-and-blood aspects. The desire to help sophonts rise to the full extent of their potential often masked contempt for the majority that would not. Even immortals could find themselves wasting time. But the tradition was important. Ushering a new age for billions of people – and death for the majority of them – should not be done in cold blood.

  “We shall see,” Josephus told the younger Ascended Master. “We have limitations, and we do not know what the choices of those below us will lead to. Even the System does not see all possible futures. Mortals think us omnipotent and omniscient, but that’s a mistake we can never make about ourselves. That way lies madness.”

  Yue nodded but couldn’t help adding one more grievance. “I still wish we were able to assign Guides to everyone instead of a few thousand people.”

  “That is a perfect case in point. The System’s resources aren’t limitless. Unless you planned on forcing the Lesser Fae to serve as Guides, we only have enough resources at hand to bribe a small number of them. And that is mostly thanks to the Sponsors that shouldered much of the costs.”

  “And the Sponsors will do their best to get their Essence investment back,” Yue lamented. “By hook and by crook, by deceiving and corrupting. More wasted lives.”

  “They must follow the rules, and we will be watching for those who break them.”

  “Some will figure out ways to bend them while avoiding punishment.”

  Josephus nodded in agreement. “True. But without them there would be no surplus energy to bribe the Fae.”

  “Mercenaries are a poor choice for Guides. Better than slaves, I admit,” Yue said grudgingly.

  “Then, fourteen thousand Guides will have to be enough,” Josephus said. “The natives only have twenty, twenty-five years at best to prepare themselves, and our System-assigned budget is barely enough to do the job.”

  “I will try to focus on the positive,” Yue said, speaking to himself as much as his fellow Ascended. “This world’s potential is the highest among all the worlds I’ve helped Integrate. S-Grade-Plus! Poor of Mana but rife with Significance. Thousands of years of history, myth and legend, untapped because the locals lacked the power to access it. Empty vessels of profound depth, about to be filled to the brim.”

  “Indeed. This is only my second potential S-Grade planet, out of over three dozen. Gods and monsters may – no, will – emerge from this Integration. Even if a handful of geniuses are the only survivors, the System will consider this a success.”

  Despite his misgivings, and the burning guilt over the millions the System would consign to a brutal end, Yue nodded, an eager expression on his face that Josephus shared.

  The latest Iteration of the System had several refinements that would help those with the proper willpower and dedication to gain the strength to survive the trials ahead. It was time to unleash it and see how well it worked. Simulations never quite matched reality, and he hoped that in this case reality would produce a better result. Anything that led to the survival of more than one in ten would be a major improvement on previous Iterations.

  “Then we can but hope that the locals will overcome their limitations and ascend toward greatness. And we will ensure outsiders cannot prey on them until they can look after themselves. Beyond that, there is nothing left to say, is there?” Yue said.

  “No. But it is good to consider matters from a mortal’s perspective. Even the System started from humble beginnings, you know.”

  Yue nodded, already beginning to forget his concerns as his mind expanded.

  The two Ascended Masters let their mortal shells collapse, becoming something immensely greater but also more restricted. Their true forms were driven by imperatives that often overwhelmed their sense of self, their ability to choose. That was the price for a state that would seem omnipotent to mortal observers.

  As they projected their will onto the planet, streams of energy appeared on its surface, invisible to normal senses. A network of ley lines was created, sometimes following inert pathways of old, but more often forging new ones. Earth had never been rich in magic; the truth behind the myths and legends of her people were mostly glimpses of other realities where the fabulous was commonplace, or very rare outbreaks that never lasted long. Until now.

  Incomprehensible energies suffused the planet as the System began modding local reality with new, more user-friendly rules.

  Phase One would begin shortly.