The only thing Dante was sure about was that he needed to balance greed with practicality. Tomorrow, they went to war. He had to be prepared for that. So far, he had survived through luck and couldn’t count on that forever. With that in mind, he felt that the [Overloaded] specialization made more sense for both. It allowed him to punch above his weight, if only briefly. But …


    Dante read the description for [Temporal] again.


    What does this mean? Time streams? I apparently have one. Maybe it’s my perception of time? That would make sense as it slows that down already. So does that mean that the world, or at least a small part of it, will now move at that speed?


    Dante kneaded the sides of his head, trying to think through the implications of that. This felt different from the rest of his abilities. The others made his eyesight better or painted his skin. This altered the fundamental laws of the universe. It made him very nervous.


    I already had such trouble with [Overloaded Warding Flesh], I can’t even imagine what the side effects of this could be. I have no idea if this will always be on for one. Like, at high levels, will food rot before it reaches my mouth? I can’t even use the downswing of the charges to counteract it! Although … I wonder if [Aura Manipulation] would work with it?


    He had no way of knowing if it would, so this remained a dangerous choice. The upsides were … also uncertain. Time would slow down near him when it activated, sure, but would his body be caught up? Dante hoped not, it would make the ability an active downside. Plus, it said it would sharply reduce ability power.


    Dante decided to put that question aside for the moment and focus on [Sharpen Senses]. He thought his options there were more clear-cut. He could discard [Focused]. In sparing Pauwna he had found every sense useful. Mana, while having the potential to increase his understanding of the world, didn’t seem as immediately useful as the other options. If he had more time, he would take that risk. Which narrowed his options down to [Overloaded] and [Predictive]. He nearly wanted to give it to [Predictive], it would make working with his crossbow a cinch, if not for one factor.


    The unlock requirements.


    The newest addition to his interface, every single one of his options had one. Some were quite obscure. It only followed that classes would be the same way. There had to be a good class unlocked if he chose the right abilities.


    Dante opened his character sheet and displayed it along the two specialization windows. He had figured that out while waiting for the number to reach three thousand. The interface was surprisingly malleable. He traced a finger from [Overloaded Warding Flesh] to the [Overloaded] specialization for [Split Second Reactions] to the same option on [Sharpen Senses]. A trinity of synergy.


    There had to be a class for grabbing all of them.


    The question was, would it be worth it? For [Sharpen Senses], Dante would take that chance in a heartbeat. But for [Split Second Reactions]? The stakes were a lot higher. A legendary was on the line. It came down to the legendary ability in front of him or a potential synergistic class.


    Dante groaned, flopping to the mattress. There was an obvious right answer, but he also knew which one his heart had decided on. He locked in his choices.


    [Sharpen Senses] has acquired the specialization [Overloaded].


    [Split Second Reactions] has acquired the specialization [Temporal].


    Hopefully, two instances of [Overloaded] would be enough to unlock the class, if it even existed. Dante glanced over at his status to see if anything had changed. There was one change. Instead of being called Temporal Split Second Reactions, the ability had been renamed to [Temporal Reactions].


    Glad to avoid that mess. I was wondering why all the high-level ability names weren’t an entire sentence long. I am glad to see that it isn’t always active, that would have been a nightmare. Let’s give it a try.


    Dante fetched the small knife that Svōl had given him. He prepared himself — this was never easy —, then slashed at his hand. When the blade was two inches away from flesh, he felt the ability activate and the knife slowed to a crawl.


    This can’t be right, He thought as he aborted the strike right before it contacted his skin. It feels almost the same as before. Perhaps a bit stronger, sure, but now it only activates when it’s close to my skin. Time is supposed to slow down for it in the real world. The only problem is, how can I tell if it has when time is already that speed for me? I must be missing something.


    After a few more repetitions, he picked out a discrepancy. He had assumed that no slowdown was happening before the blade neared his flesh. This was incorrect. There was a slowing as the knife became a threat, it was a fraction of what it had been previously. He raged at not being able to tie am number to it, but preserved regardless. Everything about the ability was so hard to quantify.


    I am at a loss for words. This isn’t working like the ability description at all, isn’t it? It still somewhat works like before, just weaker.


    It wasn’t until an ill-consider experiment where he threw the knife at himself and managed to knick himself that he gave up. His curiosity had gotten the better of him. Dante resheathed the knife and tucked it in his bag. Out of sight, out of mind. It was less tempting that way.


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    I guess I have found a new passion. Not sure if anything else has caused me to focus so hard before. Alright. So, [Temporal Reactions] is weak until a few inches away where it is stronger than before. Why this is the case, damned if I know.


    Mentally shutting the book on that, Dante moved on to the next ability. Fortunately, this one proved to be easier to measure. He had designed experiments for this. Dante went down the list, creating a new column for Level 4. He did a simple percentage calculation, then set the book down, and crossed his arms.


    Twenty percent. Across the board. That was how much all of his senses had improved. It even went up to fifty percent when he activated his charge. All from one level.


    No wonder everyone here is so damn scary.


    Something about those numbers wasn’t sitting right with him. On a hunch, he flipped his journal open to his past readings. To the results from [Warding Flesh].


    I thought so, the charge from [Warding Flesh] increased its power by more. Maybe because it’s a higher level? Or perhaps because it’s a unique? Why does this have to be so hard?


    Dante groaned and rubbed at his eyes. Then he put the book away, that was enough for now. He wasn’t going to figure out the answers tonight. Dante had a feeling he wasn’t going to figure out this particular mystery for a while. The sun had set, so he gathered up his blankets and tried to go to sleep.


    Svōl returned shortly after, reeking of alcohol. He must have been fairly into his cups, as he tripped over Dante and jostled him when he climbed into his bed roll. Dante couldn’t say that''s what he would have done right before a battle, but to each their own.


    What followed was one of the most miserable nights in his life.


    Dante kept tossing and turning, his limbs filled with a nervous energy. A vigor that he seemed to share with Svōl, as Dante received more than one elbow to the ribs. His thoughts kept returning to his new abilities but he dared not practice anything for fear of disturbing his unruly bunkmate more. Drunk people were unpredictable at the best of times, and they usually did not carry weapons.


    Dwelling on that was better than thinking of tomorrow.


    This was the first time he had been warned of a battle. He quickly found that he would have preferred ignorance. All he could think about was how woefully prepared he was. Despite his training, nearly everyone remained at a level far above him. A week''s worth of practice did not make up for a lifetime''s worth of experience. He did not even have a weapon save for the small knife Svōl had given him. It was laughable.


    What was a knife going to do against the Black Wind?


    This is going to be worse than anything I’ve been in. We are attacking. I will leave the safety of the trenches for some damned WWI style charge. I don’t want to do this. I want to run away. This is ridiculous. Fuck, this is bad.


    Dante lurched to his feet and ran for the latrines. He barely made it before he puked, the bile joining the waste below. The smell nearly made him wretch a second time, but he backed away and wiped his mouth with an arm. He was a little unsteady on his feet but did feel a bit better. Though … he gazed down to see his pants were stained with mud. At least, he hoped it was just that. He was filthy. A trip to the well it was then.


    After a thorough rinsing, he felt like a man reborn. Despite not feeling tired at all, he decided to return to his tent. He needed to try to get some sleep.


    I need to be at the top of my game. Fighting tired would be awful. My chances are bad enough as is.


    Right as he turned the corner to his tent’s row, he was surprised to see Svōl parting the tent flaps. The man blinked blearily, then set out in a direction away from the latrines. This was not uncommon, usually one of them would have to go during the night and would often wake the other up. The tent was tight enough that it was unavoidable. This felt different. It was something about the cast of the man''s shoulders and his furtive glances. Svōl turned the corner and Dante, after a moment''s consideration, followed.


    Dante could not say exactly why he did it. It was some strange combination of curiosity and a desperate need for distraction. But before he knew what he was doing, he was trailing a few tent rows behind Svōl. It wasn’t his first tailing job. He knew that dashing from tent to tent would raise suspicion faster than anything. So he trailed casually after Svōl and made sure to keep a few obstructions between them. Part of the trick was acting like you belonged and happened to be going in the same way. It helped that the camp was busier than usual at this hour. Evidently, they were not the only ones who were restless.


    What am I doing? He questioned himself as he sheltered behind a tent, drawing a curious look from the two men within. I can’t imagine that Svōl would be happy if he caught me doing this. The last thing I need to do before the battle is to piss off a teammate.


    [Stealth] has advanced to Level 3.


    Well, that’s enough of an excuse for me. That skill wouldn’t rise at all in training.


    Dante was not sure if he was good at this, Svōl was distracted, or if this was some elaborate setup, but he seemed to remain undetected. All too soon, Svōl stopped at a tent and rapped against its supporting pole. Dante took a few steps back, until he was out of sight, and hid against a tent at the end of the row. He could hear the murmur of voices. Svōl’s and two others. Both women, he thought. They were whispering so low that Dante could not make out the words. However, he did think both the women sounded familiar.


    Dante risked a look and saw Sūnva exiting the tent. At least, he thought it was her. He had never seen her outside of that starry sky armor, but the color of her hair was right. Another head peaked out and he was sure that one was Ren’s.


    What would Svōl wake our captain for in the middle of the night?


    A few more words were exchanged and then Sūnva stalked away from the group towards him. It was hard to tell at this distance, but Dante thought that she looked grumpy. A few more words were exchanged between Svōl and Ren. Then, under his disbelieving eyes, Svōl climbed into the tent with Ren. The cover was tied close.


    No, it couldn’t be. Could it?


    Dante was forced to duck back into cover as Sūnva approached. She swept past him and didn’t even glance in his direction. If he wasn’t mistaken, she was heading towards the edge of the camp. Once he was sure that she was gone, he exited his cover and walked towards the tent. As he got closer, he kept his ears pricked. It was faint, but he heard the sound of heavy breathing and the soft, wet sounds of kissing.


    I guess everyone deals with impending death differently.


    Suddenly feeling like a creep, Dante reversed course. He should have trusted his instincts on that one. This misadventure had not been satisfying at all. Rather than discovering any helpful information, he had intruded on something rather private. He had heard that soldiers tended to be more promiscuous, it was one reason he had been surprised that the army was intersex, but it was another thing entirely to see it. It left him feeling … frustrated? Pent up? Whatever the case was, he was certain more than ever that sleep would evade him.


    Dante paused on the main road. Far in the distance, he caught sight of Sūnva sitting on a stump at the very edge of the camp. She was gazing into the distance and was taking pulls from … was that a pipe? He hadn’t known that smoking existed in this world. He gazed towards the heart of the camp, where his empty tent and a night of restless sleep lay.


    Yeah, screw that. Let’s get to know the women who saved my life a bit more.