“What happens if I reject the Schema’s offer?” Nil asked. If he were closer to twenty than he was to thirty, he would’ve accepted the gift without question. Now, Nil had a career he had built over five years of grueling effort and sacrifice. Ascending to the status of Summoned would cost him his job.
The newly Summoned received frequent tasks and quests, taking them away from Earth several times a year—once every six to eight weeks for most early in the service of the Nexus. The duration of the summonings varied, and some didn’t make it home. The government had spent the last decade and a half debating bills on Summoned rights and employment protections and trialed several programs. Unfortunately, nothing had yet become permanent. Employers, more often than not, terminated Summoned workers, and Nil was sure the same would happen to him.
There were dozens of cooks clawing for Nil’s position, and he hadn’t held it long enough to win the chef’s favor. If he no-called-no-showed the following morning, his boss would call someone to fill in and reprimand him when he returned. If he were away for any longer, the chef would start looking for a replacement. Either way, he’d be out of a job by the end of the month, and the restaurant would have a full-time cold-kitchen sous chef replacement.
You’ll be returned to the moment following your moment of bravery in the same condition as before your summoning.
“So, broken ribs and a concussion at best. Dying at the worst.” If the Metropolitan police recognized his efforts to save one of their own, they could reward him with a Summoned healer’s touch. It was rare, but the city was known to do so, especially to avoid liability cases when they were at fault. The officers hadn’t followed procedure, and Nil believed he was owed.
We sense your hesitation. Your potential has been deemed above average. The Nexus moderators are surprised you weren’t contacted before. A destiny more extraordinary than that of an ordinary Summoned might lay ahead of you.
The Schema picks individuals with grit and mettle, individuals with talent, or those who exhibit bravery in the face of grave danger. You ticked multiple boxes.
If you accept, you will be assigned a priority caseworker, and a signing bonus might also be on the table. The latter is subject to the results of your attribute assessments.
Greed reared his ugly head. Nil doubted he’d ever make it to the status of Michelin-ranked chef. Nil was good, but he knew for a fact that he wasn’t that good. He had the necessary skills but not the mad genius or gimmicks essential for the media attention and sociopolitical favor such accolades demanded. Living as a Summoned had its dangers, but he could not think of any other way to make his family proud. It could potentially earn him enough to pay off his student loans and help his father with his debts. Rising costs forced him to continue working grueling hours despite being of retirement age. The man had two minors to support and rejected Nil's help. He had no choice but to send aid through his sister. She had a part-time job and pretended it was enough to pay for groceries and a couple of bills.
“I accept.”
A wave of warmth washed over Nil, and the surrounding white gained luminosity until it was nearly blinding. When it finally faded, he found himself on an old gym floor with nothing but a mannequin and a sled with nothing on it. The visage walked around them, studying both closely but not touching them.
“Hit me, you wide-eyed, dozy-looking bastard,” the wooden humanoid statue said.
“What?” Nil asked, eyebrows raised.
“Did I stutter? This is the Might assessment. Hit me and move on. I got better things to do than stare at your stupid mug.”
“You’re a blood mannequin. What—”
“Just get over with it, will you? Hit me. Push the sled. Move on.”
“Fine.” Nil sighed.
“You get three strikes. Use everything you got.”
Nil obeyed. His first right hook did nothing to the mannequin but left his knuckles stinging. The second came with the same discomfort, but he successfully got the head to turn a couple of degrees. Nil’s last blow involved a spinning roundhouse kick and sent jolts of pain from the impact point—his lower shin—up to the knee. The pain disappeared almost as quickly as his injuries when the Nexus summoned him.
“Now, grip the sled tight and push it for as long as you can,” the mannequin said, sounding amused. Nil was tempted to ask what the featureless, mouthless, wooden man found so funny, but it felt pointless.
The sled moved with ease at first. He didn’t see the point of the test. Then, a couple of steps later, it appeared to get heavier, and the handle rolled. Nil gripped tighter and continued pushing. Every subsequent inch got harder. The sled’s weight increased, and holding on to it proved more challenging. Much to his embarrassment, he made it only eleven steps before it wouldn’t budge.
“Might assessment complete! Next!”
The lights went out, and the environment changed when they lit up again. He now stood in an auditorium. Several benches and stations stood around him. He saw no humanoid figures in his vicinity besides the familiar woman. She waved him toward a collection of workstations. Nil found a large section that resembled Misdirection’s kitchen and automatically gravitated toward it.
A blue screen materialized when he stopped in front of a butchery station with a whole, skinned, and gutted deer carcass.
Finesse Assessment.
The Schema has already observed how well you move during the previous trial and during your summoning event. Please demonstrate how good you are with your hands.
Butchering and taking apart the young doe felt like the most natural thing to do. Fine dining and especially Michelin-starred kitchens often used game animals and liked to have the staff take apart protein and dry age it in-house. Nil had grown familiar with such tasks early in his career. He took his pick from the selection of knives and got to work straight away. A comfortable rhythm took over; before he knew it, the limbs and torsos sat separated before him. He was in the middle of separating the saddle from the shoulders when darkness took over again.
When the lights returned, Nil stood in a grand temple-like structure made of marble and crystals. Ethereal lights floated overhead. Individuals in robes, armor, and general medieval armor surrounded him.
Arrows blinked in front of Nil, directing him to the opposite side of the dome-ceilinged room. When he hesitated, a luminous line appeared on the floor, too. The people walking around him frequently glanced at blank spaces on the floor, walls, or empty air. The Schema probably had similar indicators for them. A handful of individuals materialized after him. Instead of walking toward the offices, they headed toward an auditorium full of people to the right.
“This way, Sunil Roy,” a pink-skinned woman in luminous pink attire said when Nil reached his destination, waving him through a doorway. Once he passed, she closed the door and pointed him toward a desk.
“Thank you.” When Nil glanced over his shoulder, the pink woman had disappeared. Instead, an identical individual with normal human coloration sat behind the desk. Her clothes were neither luminous nor had a pink hue.
“Please sit down, Sunil Roy. I’m Layla, your personal case worker. I’ll talk you through induction, attributes, discipline, and skill options. We can discuss your possible bonus as well. Does that sound okay to you, Sunil—”
“I prefer Nil.”
The woman raised an eyebrow. Her eyes flashed a salmon shade as she scrutinized him. “Very well. Sit down, Nil.” She continued after he complied. “The Schema doesn’t frequently offer bonuses.” Even though she was looking at him, her eyes appeared focused on something closer. Perhaps the Schema interface. “Looks like you got hurt saving someone we favor—an inductee with a promising powerset and great potential. People don’t regularly hesitate or second guess the Schema’s offer either.”
“I thought twenty-nine was a bit late to start a life as a Summoned,” Nil replied. “I spent the past eight years building a career. Working for the Nexus marks the end of that life.”
“Yes. You’re a cook.” She paused, frowning. Her eyes darted across a screen that appeared before her. “Apologies. You’re a culinary artist serving royalty and the rich and powerful. Your work schedule and dedication suggest you have grit and mettle. The Schema values such qualities just as much as talent. It's true that people younger than you are called on more frequently, but there is no limit on when one can display such qualities.”
“So? What’s next?”
“We test your final attributes. Then, we’ll discuss your available disciplines and the best distribution of your extra Schema tokens.” Layla glanced at the wall to her left. A luminous pink hand manifested by the attached shelf. It grabbed a clear crystal disk as big as Sam’s face and carried it to the desk. “Touch it.”
“I don’t get elaborate tests for the other two?” Nil asked, studying the device before him.
“Mind and Spark are harder to measure than the physical attributes. Estimating your potential for either is even harder. We usually test them in the auditorium near the Nexus Market entrance so other Summoned can see if you’re worthy of their attention, guilds, and a lot more that many find grating.” Layla smiled, waving at herself. “However, a Schema-assigned priority case worker comes with privacy, in-depth guidance, and a better transition to Summoned Life.” She redirected his attention to the disk. “This will provide us with a reasonable measurement of your remaining attributes. Please touch the disk.”
Nil did as instructed. He felt a soft tingle before a Schema interface manifested, floating above the desk.
Might— Mortal 4 | Potential: Bronze
Finesse— Mortal 5 | Potential Silver
Mind— Moral 3 | Potential: Iron
Spark— Mortal 9 | Potential Platinum
“That’s an unfortunate spread and assortment of potentials.” Layla sighed. “At least you have an unnaturally high Spark. I suppose we can work with that.”
“What does that mean?” Nil enquired, scrutinizing the screen with narrow eyes. He had read and heard some of the jargon before, but outside of super sports and especially the Apocalypse Arena—he didn’t have the time to watch their broadcasts—the Summoned didn’t discuss their attributes, how they worked, or potential. In fact, many hoarded information regarding the Schema, a closely guarded secret, and the government did little to educate the public on the details. He had read up on them when he still had hopes of ascending, but the accuracy of the data always felt questionable. “Why the hell is my Mind attribute low? Am I supposed to be stupid?”
“Mind doesn’t have anything to do with intelligence. I can understand why your people often make the connection. It's an unfortunate translation issue. You appear to lack a word or concept that combines memory and the ability to handle mental strain. Do you know much about the rest of the attributes?”
“I know that Might covers strength, durability, and natural recovery,” Nil answered. “Meanwhile, Finesse is a measurement of my motor skills and perception. I used to think Mind involved analytical power. Mages use it as their primary attribute. Right?”
“Correct. We don’t use such strict classifications here, but arcane powers demand memorization, image-holding, and psychic control, which can strain the brain. So, mages—as you humans like to say—need a high Mind and a decent score in the final non-physical attribute.”
“Spark. The arcane attribute.”
“Spark affects the potency of your personal power. It might not be overtly important for, say, a Sleight of Hand, Cat’s Grace, or similar passive ability. They can benefit by just investing in the relevant attribute. However, Spark can greatly benefit individuals with active abilities and magic.”
“I thought it affects arcane recovery, too,” Nil said, frowning.
“It can in some cases. For example, if someone’s Schema-gifted ability involves fire magic, Spark would determine the potency of his spells. Typically, they’d recover their arcane resource pool by absorbing the essence of wild or naturally occurring fires from their environment. Spark would affect the efficiency and speed of this recovery.
“Someone of your people’s knight classification with a shield power would also benefit from Spark. The attribute would determine his defense’s potency and how often he can conjure said shield. However, if his ability passively boosts his durability, relying on Might and simply nurturing said gift would do him better than spending Schema tokens and artificial boosters on Spark.”
“Alright. I understand. So, what does this mean for me? Why is my spread unfortunate, as you said? High Spark should help me become a mage. Correct?”
Layla sighed. “If only it were that easy.”
