Right, well, I can ignore the other Summoned for now, Eric thought. First things first, I need to figure out Seraphine.

  The woman was the handler for the Summoned in the Kingdom of Trok. The first point of contact they would have. She’d hated Eric the last time. He never did figure out why.

  In fact, he had never quite discovered what made her tick at all, or what pressure points he could use for leverage.

  She valued strength and seemed to fawn over it. I need to come off as bold and arrogant. But then Naomi might think I’m an asshole. It will be important to find a balancing point for this first impression—

  “Which of you stole my clothes!” a high-pitch female voice shrieked in confusion, forcing Eric out of his thoughts.

  “Why would we do that?” the masculine voice replied.

  “I don’t know!” the same female voice answered.

  Right, the others. I was hoping I’d have a bit more time to myself and my thoughts to plan and plot, but needs must. I should probably introduce myself . . . first time I’m meeting them in this timeline. First impressions are important, and I can’t alienate them like I did the last time around. That also means I can’t let Alp anywhere near us. That should be easy enough if I keep us all close together, and we stick to Seraphine.

  Eric moved around the Summon Stone, which dominated the center of the chamber, and focused on the conversation at hand.

  Naomi’s voice cut through the confusion of frantic, arguing voices. “There’s no reason to panic!”

  The last time around, Naomi Takinaka had been the only other Summoned who survived the upcoming war. She was of an Asian heritage that Eric had never asked about, with straight, black hair that was cropped short and sharp cheekbones. Her calculating gaze turned on him as he appeared from behind the stone, her dark, calculating brown eyes settling on him. “See? That guy isn’t panicking,” Naomi said.

  Yeah, Eric thought, I know you like people who keep their cool in tough situations.

  Eric gave a little wave. He chose to go with a joke—just enough to loosen the tension in the room. “Hey. . .weird that we’re all naked.”

  “No shit,” Peter Steele replied, crossing his arms.

  He was the all-American football star. The man had a big build and an ego to match, with muscles upon muscles. His masculinity covered something he wanted hidden at all costs, but Eric knew Peter’s secret. It was good leverage.

  “Why the fuck aren’t you freaking out?” Peter demanded, his intense blue eyes narrowing on Eric.

  You appreciate someone who is down to earth, Eric thought. Playing it straight here but keeping that slightly humorous edge is the right call.

  Eric shrugged and walked over. “Why should I freak out?” he asked. “It’s not going to help the situation. We’re trapped in a room with a couple other people and a weird fucking rock.”

  Shannon Murphy, the last of the Summoned, looked over to the door. She was scared, and that came through in her trembling tone. “I—I think we should try and get out of here.” Her lilting Irish accent danced fragilely through the air.

  Shannon was a ginger, with pale skin and shoulder-length, dark red hair. Her green eyes stood out prominently from her downcast expression. In his past life, Eric had not socialized with her as much as he had with Peter. He didn’t know her pressure points; he didn’t know her secrets. He didn’t know how to leverage her to do what he needed.

  Eric would just have to find out on this go around.

  Given Eric’s knowledge of what was coming, he knew he had to lean into a manipulative mindset.

  I won’t manipulate them in a way that hurts them, he thought. I want them all to survive with me. But . . . until I can trust them with the truth—if ever—I’ll need to use what I know to control them.

  The idea of puppeting someone else with their secrets, their desires, and their flaws was utterly distasteful to him as that is what had caused his betrayal in the past—the future-other timeline . . . but he would be a fool to not use every advantage at his disposal. Especially with all of Elyndor at stake—with his happy-ever-after in the balance.

  I can’t be everywhere at once. I need their help. Even if I have to go against my morals and use underhanded tactics to get it. There’s a greater good at stake. A whole world hangs in the balance.

  Naomi spoke up again. “We may as well check out the door and see if it’s unlocked.” She followed Shannon, and Peter trailed after the two women. He gave Eric a slight glance, a scan up and down, and a quick nod before following.

  Eric stayed near the stone in the center of the room for a moment, but watched as the trio began searching the closed granite doors for some seam they could maybe pry open.

  After a moment of watching them in their fruitless endeavor, Eric looked at the monolith and ran a hand along its smooth surface. He thought through his game plan, cataloguing all of the knowledge he had about the future.

  I need to choose a Class that will open up more doors than before. Probably still a Mage, since I don’t want to have to learn how to use weapons or put my body in harm’s way. I also need to really show off in the mega dungeon during that first-floor trial run. Oh, and the soirée. I must make sure I impress different families with various economic ties—mostly the old blood . . . So much to do . . .

  He cracked a smile as the plan came together.

  This time around . . . Making friends with the other Summoned. Keeping those friends alive. Fixing a kingdom. Saving a world . . . Those are the goals. I’ve got thi—

  He felt an odd vibration from the stone under his fingers and tried to pull his hand away but couldn’t. It was stuck to the rock. He heard a buzzing noise in his ears.

  This hadn’t happened last time.

  Panic set in for a moment as he grabbed his left wrist with his right hand and pulled with all his might.

  He remained glued to the device that had torn him away from Earth and brought him here.

  A voice he had heard once before whispered in his ears. It sent chills through him. Otherworldly, deep, and warped, but still intelligible. Female. The same one from the void of death. Her words were matched with scrawling text in his vision.

  [A Titan stirs, its bonds grow thin, in fifteen years, the end begins. Summoned ones, your fates are clear: fight the doom or perish here.]

  The voice faded as the words vanished, his hand was released, and he backpedaled, barely keeping his balance.

  “Hey, are you going to try and help us look for a way out of here, or what?” Shannon asked.

  He was shocked but couldn’t show that to the others. He had to maintain his calm appearance at all costs. Eric turned to her, not letting his face betray any emotion.

  That definitely didn’t happen last time, but I also didn’t interact with the stone immediately after our arrival . . . Did any of the other Summoned across the world hear the same message in the first timeline, and I just didn’t get the memo? The voice was the same from when I was between life and death, so it might have just been me. Maybe a unique message?

  If they had, there was a silver lining to that experience. He might not be the only Summoned with the knowledge that this thing, a ‘Titan,’ was coming.

  At least I know that the fifteen years is a solid, set timeline. . . if I can trust that voice. Who was that? Not the usual mana constructs that speak through The Paths. Something else, but what? They were around in that future timeline, since it was the same voice. Maybe a deeper entity within The Paths?

  As if in response to Shannon’s question, the click of a key fitting into the lock echoed through the room.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Maybe you all should back up,” Eric said. He strode forward and crossed his arms, trying to portray confidence as he shoved his last thought into the recesses of his mind.

  When the door opened, the other Summoned reacted in various ways. Peter took up a defensive stance, but like an amateur boxer with his footing all wrong. Naomi pressed herself flat against the rounded wall on the opposite side of the door’s hinge. Shannon backed away and flattened herself against the Summoning Stone, trying to hide while keeping in line of sight of the door.

  Eric kept his gaze firmly affixed on the doorway and made sure his posture exuded confidence—though not cockiness. He kept his head level and even added a little bit of a glare as his gaze affixed on the woman who stood on the other side of the now-open door.

  A woman of the highest class of nobility, flanked by two heavily armored guards holding polearms.

  She posed perfectly upright, poise denoting a lifetime spent amongst the upper crust of society at court. Her dark, auburn hair was tied back in an ornate bun covered with a spiderwebbing cloth hood, bedecked with gemstones, and intertwined with silver thread. Her stunning dress was in a long, almost cocktail-style and was made of a gossamer-white fabric that showed off her immaculate physique.

  Her eyes immediately landed on Eric, and he found the little grin she had given to Peter the first time around aimed in his direction instead.

  Good. First impression made.

  Eric was incredibly thankful that whatever connection to The Paths from his past timeline was still present in some capacity this time around. He had no idea how that worked, since technically, right now, he did not have a Path, and was not connected to Elyndor in any way he understood it to be possible. But somehow, he was tied to that ephemeral backup repository of his prior lifetime’s knowledge, experiences, memories, and recollections: which most Elyndians did not know existed.

  Even better, his years of training to seamlessly access that backup—a coveted ability that took years of training to master—was fully intact. That would lend a massive advantage in the coming days.

  The regal woman cleared her throat, and her slight tenor pitch echoed through the chamber. “Welcome to Elyndor. I am Magistra d’Orveil, though you may also call me Seraphine. I am the Magistrate of Integration. Before you as, no, we do not know why you don’t have clothes: it is part of the Summoning.”

  Naomi stayed put, Peter lowered his fists, and Shannon moved out of sight behind the Summon Stone. Their panicked voices and questions overlapped.

  “How can we understand you?” Shannon squeaked from her hiding place.

  “Where is Elyndor?” Peter asked.

  “Who do you work for?” Naomi inquired sharply.

  “You answered my question already,” Eric quipped, wanting to blend in but keep with his slight humorous angle he’d already established.

  Seraphine raised her hand for quiet. The regal woman lowered her hand and clasped both in front of her stomach, fingers interlocked and palms facing upward. Her elbows were slightly cocked out to each side, filling the doorway.

  Eric knew the posture: it was a silent signal to any trained protectors nearby. It was what the nobles of Trok were told to do if they felt threatened but did not want to warn the uninformed about the possibility of violence.

  The guards, he noted, were dressed in half-plate covering the largest parts, with chainmail filling the gaps. Their fluted helmets and the eye-covering screen prevented him from seeing their expression, which he imagined was boredom.

  The guards behind her reacted to her gesture, almost imperceptibly tilting their spears downward. That little motion was all Eric needed to see; they had noticed Seraphine’s gesture and had responded by getting ready to intervene.

  “I will provide you with a few brief answers at this time,” she said with her pristine smile still plastered on. But behind that smile, he saw the minute eyebrow twitch of frustration.

  And here’s a chance to impress her by showing off some of my intelligence without coming off as too smart.

  Eric said, “Elyndor isn’t a place on Earth I’ve ever heard of . . . We’re somewhere else, aren’t we? Not on our world.”

  Seraphine raised an eyebrow in curiosity and relaxed her posture a tad, her elbows tucking into her sides once more. The guards still stood at the ready, but they lowered their spears at her shifted stance. It was a silent indication of her telling them to stand down.

  Exactly how I wanted it to play out, Eric thought.

  Seraphine’s soft voice washed over him, filled with a sense of satisfaction. “You can understand me because you were brought here from your world by an ancient magic, to answer that first question posed. That is part of the Summoning process, which imbues you with knowledge of our language. You, young man, just answered the second question asked. The answer to the third is that I work for the king of Trok, the kingdom you were summoned to.”

  “I had guessed most of that,” Naomi grumbled, just loud enough for Eric to hear.

  Seraphine turned and began walking down the hallway, calling to them over her shoulder as the two guards stood back against the walls to make way. “Follow, and we’ll get you dressed. There will be plenty of time to answer your questions, but we must dress you first, and then attune you to The Paths.”

  One guard followed her, while the other stood to the side, waiting for the Summoned to pass him so he could bring up the rear. Disciplined and trained, but a precaution that let Eric know the Summoned were not trusted.

  Yet. He planned to change that. In fact, he meant to make himself an asset that the Kingdom of Trok could never afford to get rid of. They wouldn’t imprison him, force him to flee, and send bounty hunters after him this time around.

  Eric immediately followed and glanced back over his shoulder just like she had. “Come on. No point standing around.” He gestured to the weapon the knight held. “Not like we could do anything with these guys here, and I’d like some clothes.”

  Shannon immediately ran up behind him, his show of confidence obviously giving her some sense of comfort. Naomi was second, and Peter followed up the rear.

  “. . . We’re not on Earth?” Shannon whispered.

  “Doesn’t seem like it,” Eric replied.

  The halls were illuminated by small, glowing rocks just like those in the summoning-chamber’s ceiling. The soft, yellow lights emitted enough warmth to keep the temperature comfortable. The carved and polished stone floor echoed as the one guard’s boots clacked as he fell in behind the group, his tromp echoing down the halls.

  Seraphine took a sharp left turn and reached down to a small loop hanging from a strap around her waist, hidden under the dress. She pulled a key from the ring, slotted it into the door, and opened it before leading the group in. “Feel free to dress how you prefer. It is crisp and cool outside, if that informs your choice at all.”

  Eric made a beeline for one of the upright stands that held an immaculate outfit he recognized immediately. Standard Mage attire. Most people dressed according to their Class, as it was an easy way to differentiate who could do what in a world that operated on The Paths. T

  here was another tradeoff: the lighter apparel and less armor a person wore, the faster their mana would regenerate, as the ambient mana in the atmosphere would not have to push its way through layers of metal, leather, and cloth to reach the skin and saturate down to the person’s mana reservoir. For a Mage like Eric who would be heavily relying on his Rote as a primary damage source, mana regeneration was paramount. If he acquired a means to accelerate his mana regeneration through some Trait, then he could swap out to more protective outfits down the line.

  Eric opened the chest just under the mannequin. Soft socks, a pair of trunks that would hold up to the fall air once they got out of the citadel, and a simple linen jerkin. Then, he wriggled into the grey mage robes, tying a cord around his waist. A pair of boots finished off the outfit.

  The others were still getting dressed, and Eric noted how their decisions were the same as before. That gave him a bit of comfort that this was not some alternate reality, but an actual timeline reset. They were also glancing at each other, doubtless thinking their own thoughts and trying to come up with questions to ask or rationalize the crazy reality that they had just been ripped away from Earth and put onto another world.

  Naomi dressed in a utilitarian style: pants, boots, an undershirt, and a coat. Shannon bedecked herself with a dress that mimicked Seraphine’s style. Peter went with simplicity—just pants and a shirt with simple shoes.

  Eric went over to Seraphine. He knew that she took frequent trips to Divination Mages to try and learn of her future. He chose to use that knowledge and take a gamble. A low-risk but high-payoff gamble.

  “Magistra d’Orveil, thank you for treating us with kindness,” he said with as much gravitas as he could muster. “We are strangers here, but I know that we were brought here for some reason. Fated, perhaps, to be here.”

  He watched her professional, tight-lipped face for any trace of emotion. And he saw it. A very little, authentic upturn at the edges of her diplomatic smile. “Perhaps fate did bring you here,” she replied. “What is your name?”

  “Eric Mercer. I was about to die back on Earth . . . and this whole event saved my life. It has to be destiny.” He forced a chuckle. “If it wasn’t . . . well, I’m one lucky bastard.”

  Seraphine’s smile lapsed. “Fate indeed,” she whispered. She resumed her perfect demeanor as the other Summoned finished dressing, but kept her voice when she replied, “We’ll have to speak later about our mutual appreciation for destiny.”

  Eric moved back to the other Summoned, waiting for them to finish checking their final buckles and laces.

  Seraphine raised her voice and spoke to the Summoned as a whole. “Now, if you are ready, we shall head to the Ley Line Locus, where you will acquire your Path.”

  “Why not answer our questions now?” Shannon asked.

  “Yeah,” Peter added. “I want to know what the fuck is going on before I go anywhere.”

  Seraphine pursed her lips, breaking her perfect visage. “If you are not attuned to The Paths, and acquire your Path, you will die.”

  “What the fuck!” Peter shouted.

  “Insane,” Naomi muttered.

  Shannon was quiet and retreated back a bit.

  Seraphine waited for a moment as Peter let loose with a litany of curses, and when he stopped to take a breath, she said, “Elyndor is filled with ambient energy known as mana. Right now it is permeating your body. Your physical form cannot process it, and will rapidly develop mana sickness. Unless you are attuned to The Paths, and acquire a means to expel this energy, you will die.”

  Naomi shook her head. “It’s like radiation we have to let out?” she asked.

  “I do not know what radiation is,” Seraphine replied.

  “I want to go home,” Shannon whispered.

  “This is bullshit!” Peter interrupted. “Get us back home!”

  “You can’t go home,” Seraphine replied curtly. She gestured, and the guards lowered their spears. “No Summoned has ever returned to their home world from Elyndor. Either you attune to The Paths, or you will die from mana sickness.” Her face softened as did her voice as she said, “I am sorry. You did not ask for this. We did not bring you here. But you are here now. More will be explained. Please, time is of the essence.”

  Eric turned to his allies and interrupted before Seraphine could respond. “We should just play along. It’s not like we’re in a position to negotiate.” He gestured to the armed knights.

  “He’s right,” Naomi added as she put a reassuring hand on Shannon’s shoulder and squeezed gently. Naomi then dropped her voice to a whisper. “We’re not on home turf. Play it by ear, stick together. We’ll figure out what to do when we get our bearings.”

  Peter was practically grinding his teeth, but he looked at Eric and gave a near-imperceptible nod to the former Exarch.

  Seraphine spoke up once again, “Please follow me. It is time to reveal your Path.”