“You are free to decline, and I am eager for you to join. Still, I want you to read the contract very carefully, and weigh your choices in your heart.”

Sofalia Din Blumend. The only heir to the throne speaks so softly it is relaxing to the ears.

The others make space of their own as they sit on their chairs, and some on the floors. They read the contract their employer is giving to them with avid interest. Each of them has thoughts of their own, but they have one thing in common— a show of interest to the person Sofalia calls Advisor.

Tinel read the content of the contract while thinking of the identity of the Advisor in the background. Such a strong warrior to exist means that there should be rumors around him, but Tinel has nothing. Thus, she can only assume, he is a secret master working for the throne of Blumend.

An ancient existence perhaps standing at the pinnacle of martial ability. This is her current theory— because of the turmoil in Blumend, the corruption, strife, and the neighboring nation’s growing hunger for Blumend’s territory, the young heiress to the throne goes on to find a Master to cash in a favor and save the Kingdom.

It is plausible as Sofalia, the young heiress has been missing for some time, maybe two months or less. Tinel smells an opportunity. The credibility of Sofalia’s words that she can provide a Next Level Legacy is getting more and more appealing.

Since ancient times, there have been four original legacies— Warrior, Mage, Rogue, and Cleric. In their paths, they encounter challenges that they overcome and in the process evolve their Legacy.

This is called the Next Pathway. There are no proper levels as to the power system of Legacies, and the research that requires an individual to discern his/her Next Pathway is an immense task. For Tinel who can smell the truth, she has it easier.

But her current strength is not enough. If she wishes to achieve more, she must get stronger. The sight of the proper teacher is a great opportunity for her.

Tinel takes a deep breath. In the middle of the Guild Establishment where a bunch of fainted adventurers litter the place is a table. On top of it is a quill and an ink pad.

“I have decided,” She announces garnering the attention of the others.

Taking the quill between her fingers, she then decisively wrote her signature on the contract. From there on, the others decide to follow. Nine out of nine decide to join the Order temporarily. The allure of a Next Legacy is that strong.

The Order of Queenmaker is a temporary organization with the sole purpose of putting Sofalia Din Blumend on the throne. As a deposit, they will receive the Legacy Names of their next pathway. After the contract's completion, they will then receive the full details on how to advance their legacies further.

“This is very fortunate,” Sofalia comments. “These contracts are enforced by the estate, and lately I have been thinking the people are losing trust in the Kingdom, but I assure you, you made the right decision…”

***

The Warrior takes soft steps to the middle of the establishment. “As it was stated on the contract, if there are no results within five years whether Sofalia is put on the throne or not, you are free to go with the severance package of 10, 000 Gold Pieces. But that is not enough…”

At his words, Sofalia takes out another contract. “This is a soul-bound contract enforced by magic. I and my advisor shall sign this contract with the condition that if I fail to commit to the contracts you signed, he will kill me.” She says to them with a smile.

The soul-bound contracts come from Blumend Treasury. Sofalia has had it for a long time, and now she has an opportunity to use it. Her initial purpose for bringing it is to have Arkruff sign the contract.

But when Van the Third decides to play Arkruff’s role instead, Sofalia has no reason to use the contract anymore. The reason is simple— she is afraid of Van. With a subtle glance at Van’s expression, she judges that it is time he leaves.

Sofalia looks around at the superhumans under her employ. Every one of them is about at her level when she only arrives at White Peak. Currently, Sofalia is stronger than them all combined thanks to Van’s training in the Underdark.

In Vanaheim where might make right, individual combat power has more value than the might of an army. The Civil War to Blumend Kingdom is nigh. Sofalia has come to understand this. But still, numbers matter a great deal especially if war is imminent. There is power in individual ascendance. However, there will always be safety in numbers is a much more preferable state for most lords which is natural.

The contract makes rounds on her hired Knights, and after that, she and Van sign the contract, thus establishing trust among them.

After that, they disperse to their rooms taking a rest for the night. They leave the fainted Adventurers to their own.

While the others proceed to their rooms, Sofalia grips Van’s arms. “Let's talk…”

***

It is the full moon tonight and is already past ten o’clock in the evening. I judge that it is time already for the people to sleep, yet Sofalia drags me all the way here outside of Fendra City.

“What is it?” I ask.

Sofalia answers. “You can leave now. I will just tell them to find you at White Peaks after they complete their mission.” It is stupid. Sofalia knows, but taking Fenrir’s account, she believes that this is a wise choice.

I can see how decisive she is on this. As to why she has decided to get rid of me, I don't know why. I recall the proud Sofalia Din Blumend that I know. Many players express their love for her and admiration. They say she is a role model and a great example of someone who never bows down to fate.

But for me. I don’t feel such love and admiration.

“Why?” I can only ask her this.

“You are a liability. I cannot trust you. You dragged me here, and did all of that… What is that stunt?” Sofalia is bitter. She feels that she is being manipulated.

In my defense, she did not ask. I cannot tell if it is my fault either. My job is to function and fulfill commands. Never have I received such freedom and control that I don’t know what to do with it except just work the ideas that pop out of my head.

There is no program repeatedly reminding me of my purpose, and helping me repeat the same routine that I have always known. My function has changed. And I am finding it difficult to respond to the changes more than I can imagine.

For the first time, after I can emotionally connect with Kruff and Pyla, I imagine myself to be rediscovering my purpose once more. That connection no matter how thin it is… It makes me full.

From there, I then make my first choice— to offer myself instead of them. Yes, I am the one who gives Sofalia the choice of whether she wants Arkruff or me. She chooses me. But that choice will not even happen if I have not voiced my thoughts.

I realize. Communication is a very important tool for a human being to function.

Since I am human now, I must abide by these protocols. “Forgive me. But I will not go until I make you Queen. Again, I apologize. You must have felt it from the second floor. It is a well-calibrated Killing Intent that will make those who are below level 55 faint.” I explain to her in an almost rigid voice like the many NPCs from Vanaheim’s mirror that I know.

Emotions. I understand them. Sometimes, I can express them. But most oftentimes, I fail in doing so. My silence, not taking the initiative to converse, and inability to give satisfactory responses are the results of my inability to express emotions.

“What even is a level? You see, like this… I don’t understand half of what you are saying most of the time. And… you even rarely talk.” Sofalia complains.

Once more, I fail in the aspect of communication as I cannot find a satisfactory reply to her words.

Silence. No exchange of dialogues. There is just a worrying gap between the two of us. I realize this cannot stay this way. “The contract with them is only for five years. Are you confident that you can win the throne with only that amount of time?”

“You!” Anger is visible in her eyes. Sofalia raises her closed fist, her desire to attack me is growing stronger. “It is you who said that I need the army. But what army is this? There are too few! Yes, they might be strong, but will they be effective on a siege? I didn’t even fully agree with creating an army. You dragged me into this!”

I glance at her trembling fist. “Do you want to hit me?” If it will calm her anger, then there is no harm for her to do so. “I am fine with it. You can hit me. I won’t dodge.”

However, instead of calming her, my words seem to have the opposite effect. “You! I fucking want to make you bleed, but I know I will be the one who will regret it! So what if you are strong?”

Hmmm… Do I tap into the source of my data? The fact is I already did, but it offers me no solution to my current situation. I recall the way I responded and started seeing myself in the shadow of NPCs of Vanaheim’s mirror.

Then, how about the Sofalia from that Vanaheim’s mirror?

From what I know, 'that' Sofalia possesses an AI so much superior to mine that it can function so closely resembling a human. But since arriving in this world, the Sofalia I know is no longer AI which is bizarre.

The incongruity sends me into a spiral.

The more I live in this world, the more I realize how much I am growing attached to this world. I recall the trivialities of our travels within the Underdark. It is short, but I think I won’t be able to forget all of that. Even the bloodshed I casually cause in the Umchaka forest. I especially will not forget my memories of the short month I had in White Peaks.

“So what if you are strong, huh?” Sofalia reiterates, imploding with anger. “How old even are you?”

To her second question, I immediately have an answer. “Half a year old.”

“Huh?” She continues to get angrier and angrier. “Excuse me? Come again?”

“Half a year old,” I repeat, tracing my memories from my first arrival.

As an AI Bot, there is no clear reference to my age. I look at Sofalia once more, thinking hard. But should I really think so hard? Shouldn’t I be just more sincere?

I tap on my emotions which I find difficult to connect, but on rare chances under the stimulus of stress, I realize, I am able to get in touch with it.

“I am half a year old since my conception. However, if it is the length of time I have existed considering the increased proportion of time to the virtual realm where the speed of information is magnified… then I guess I am approximately 1277 years old.”

***

Sofalia stops dead silent at his words. Her conversation with Fenrir plays back in her mind. “What kind of existence are you?” She asks not to her intentions, but sometimes the mouth is faster than the brain.

“I am an Artificial Intelligence Bot, or AI Bot for short. I am responsible for harvesting the world for my owners…” He replies plainly.

Harvesting? Owners? What even is an AI Bot? Despite not knowing what these words mean, the alienness of these terms sends a chill down Sofalia's spine. Her brain goes into overdrive. At the mention of 'harvester' and 'owners', she comes to realize Van must be a slave from ancient times.

“Where did you come from?” She asks, fully intent on learning about Van the Third.

“I come from Vanaheim’s Mirror.”

***

“A world that mirrors this world. There are Existences who call themselves Players in that world. I was one of them. In that world, Players are perpetually immortal. They can resurrect over and over again, and death doesn’t mean anything to them. They gather, socialize, and kill because it is fun. As an information-based existence, I do not possess as much freedom as they do.”

I finish my explanation. If there is something I know of sincerity, then it is being honest. This is something I learned from Kruff.

Sadly, I don’t think my words manage to get through to Sofalia as she seems stuck in her place and is trembling with unidentified emotion.

I leave her be, and simply stand by, waiting for her to digest all of the information I am sharing with her. I don’t expect her to believe me, but I have been sincere.