An overwhelming number of notifications were arrayed before Glade, broken down in a manner that was optimal for him to review. Not that he really wanted to go through the messages. There was a reason he had become a field operative instead of a desk officer. He hated anything to do with paperwork, especially email.

  Not knowing what else to do, he began with the first category - Domain of the Eight.

  “Leonard, not Moron?” Glade asked, raising an eyebrow toward Kedryn. There was more to unpack from the notification beyond the fact he finally had access to the Kid’s real first name. But that could wait. There was a story behind the notification. A story he would very much like to hear.

  The Corporal cleared his throat with a grimace and tried to dismiss the statement as nothing to be concerned about. Glade wasn’t buying it and began questioning the young man until Kedryn caved.

  It took some time, but at long last, the Corporal recounted the tale in halting stutters and mumbles. And for the first time in what felt like days, Glade smiled.

  Did Kedryn’s explanation make him question his sanity? Beyond a doubt.

  Did it annoy him to no end that Kedryn had made such a serious decision on his behalf? Absolutely.

  Did hearing the entirety of what Kedryn had gone through raise his opinion of his new charge? Grudgingly, yes. But it also brought him a small measure of hope that the adjudicators, or whatever the hell those puff balls were, obviously had a sense of humor.

  After Kedryn’s retelling of what happened, both men sat in companionable silence for a time, the sizzling meat from their makeshift frying pan the only sound.

  “Thank you,” Glade said, finally breaking the silence, “for saving my life.”

  There really wasn’t anything more to say. Kedryn had pulled through and reacted during an incredibly complex situation. His actions deserved to be recognized.

  “Does that mean you will stop calling me Kid?” Kedryn asked, his face brightening.

  “Don’t push your luck,” Glade responded with a chuckle before turning back to his notifications.

  As pulled up the next message, in the moments between thoughts, the Corporal’s real name again faded from his mind.

  Glade barely acknowledged the notifications as they didn’t exactly provide any new information. The context was straight forward enough. He had been given some form of reward simply by falling through a hole in space where he ended up a guinea pig for some kind of powerful entities. He could even remember the names that belonged to the annoying voices that had both saved his life and probed his mind.

  Credos, the one with the gravelly voice that had quite literally shoved a tentacle of mist into his skull, and Acumen, the pretentious adjudicator who really needed a punch to the face.

  Setting his frustration aside, Glade mentally prioritized finding out as much as possible about these self-proclaimed adjudicators. There was no telling how important these creatures were and what they were capable of.

  Glade moved on.

  Memories of being bound by golden threads in a celestial paradise flashed before his eyes. More specifically, memories of breathing in said threads of mist. The warning made sense. Breathing in foreign substances was not only dangerous, but idiotic. But it wasn’t like he had done it on purpose.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Of course, if Vlad had been there, he would have encouraged the behavior.

  Glade continued to read.

  Glade furrowed his brow. That didn’t sound good.

  Say what now?

  Stunned, Glade read the last prompt again.

  “Sir,” Kedryn asked. “Are you ok? You look... nonplussed.”

  “Nonplussed?” Glade replied absently, still processing the latest notification.

  “Well, it means confused…”

  “Why not just say confused then? Seriously, no one uses nonplussed in their day-to-day vocabulary. And in answer to your question, yes. I am baffled about what I’m reading.”

  “Maybe I can help?” This last request was asked in the tone of voice Glade could only associate with a child asking if they could be involved in whatever the grownups were doing. What kind of home had Kedryn been raised in to make him need so much validation? His bet was on intentional neglect. Having spent the last few hours with his newest charge, Glade could empathize with the poor boy’s parents.

  “I’ll admit, I can use some… information,” Glade began, bracing himself for the verbal onslaught of gaming theory and unsolicited advice. “These latest prompts are telling me I somehow overrode some protocols, breathed in some magical mist, and needed the fragments to intervene. If the prompts are to be believed, I can… use magic?”

  Glade’s last comment came out more as a question than a statement.

  “Maybe you could read your prompts to me?” Kedryn urged.

  Not seeing a better way to inform the Kid, Glade read his prompts aloud while ignoring the voice in his head screaming - Abort! Oddly, the voice sounded a great deal like Mother’s.

  Five minutes later, Glade was already regretting not listening to his inner voice. Kedryn insisted on dissecting every phrase of his notifications while providing in-depth commentary on each line that went well beyond his comprehension level.

  “So, what exactly is an attunement?” Glade asked after a lengthy speculation session.

  “To be honest, I’m not sure,” Kedryn replied. “I believe it has something to do with a person’s aptitude in a specific sphere of magic. I’ve asked Riya about it, but she says she can’t explain it to us. Something about her not being qualified. But I’m more interested in that mysterious ability you mentioned. Do you know what it is?”

  “All I see on my status screen is unknown,” Glade responded while seeing an opportunity to break away from the conversation. “Maybe the remainder of my notifications will help shed some light.”

  Without waiting for a response, Glade pulled up the next messages.