Ryoka Griffin, help us fulfill the Trials of Levelling set upon us by the Grand Design of Isthekenous. Grant us the power to become a people with classes and levels.
The Grand Design of Isthekenous. Then—the wind blew in this room hidden in the inn, and Ryoka’s skin chilled. She looked down at that name no being in this entire world should know—and at Nerry.
It calls itself the Grand Design of Isthekenous. Who that is—unknown. But it challenges us to ‘pass the Trials of Levelling’ and become worthy, as a species, of classes.
In order to be evaluated for class-potential and induction into the Grand Design of Isthekenous, your people must complete the 3 following trials. No time limit has been given. Evaluation will commence on completion of all three.
Her hands were so weak. The Grand Design of Isthekenous really did know her will, because her theatre would let Erin see her friends. But she also wanted to be there.
The thing that was known as the Grand Design of Isthekenous was not that. But it was close. Even the impartial arbiter of the world needed its own story and description.
The thing that some called the Grand Design of Isthekenous took no sides. There were no sides. If it was on anyone’s side, it was on everyone’s side that levelled. They were meant to level, and the being who had written most of the rules, who had come up with the foundation that everyone else had used and persisted after his death—Isthekenous—had understood the nature of deed.
But there was a clause right here. It said that if there was an entity or being that fit the match—it would announce the level ups or even communicate instead of the Grand Design of Isthekenous.
The thing they called the Grand Design of Isthekenous knew everything in this world. It knew which group was alarmingly close to Normen. It knew Kasigna’s abilities, in part.
And the thing that some called the Grand Design of Isthekenous—a title it still wasn’t sure it liked—knew this was good. It rested, a moment, in victory. It was always present, always watching. Every victory was cataloged, every defeat noted. It was the ultimate arbiter, the promise of a reward and recognition for your deeds.
Yet that brief level of self-descriptive verbiage did matter. For, as the day continued, the Grand Design of Isthekenous had cause to define a new emotion for itself that it experienced for the first time:
That was how it worked, and it made things interesting. If not always perfectly fair. The Grand Design of Isthekenous did not often reflect upon the nature of its work.
The system did not like that. But it had corrected, improved, and all was good. Still, the random element of levels bugged the Grand Design of Isthekenous. It had been assigned rules that governed how it gave levels and made choices. But the self-awareness that the rules were there, perhaps even—wrong—was new.
And no, there was no real fear for Ireil. The Grand Design of Isthekenous might call it ‘concern’, but distant. If the boy died, it might ‘mourn’ a brief moment, but only part of it, the part that was with him. Then it would note his passing and watch as his data moved via other rules, rules that it did not know yet observed, into another plane.
