Sole Survivor of a Generation

“Welcome, Trainees, to the 200th Round of Origin Inter-Realm Training!”

The announcement reverberated through the cavernous hall, silencing the hum of millions of voices. Trainees from all thirteen galaxies of the Origin stood shoulder to shoulder, anticipation crackling in the air. Valeryon, lost among the throng, tilted her head upwards, her eyes locking onto the enormous holographic figure hovering above.

The woman’s fair skin glowed as if sculpted from moonlight. Encased in a sleek golden bodysuit that accentuated her athletic build, she moved with an elegance that radiated power. Her hair, a wild array of jagged lilac spikes, crackled with arcs of lightning, forming a regal crown. Her molten gold eyes flickered with a predatory sharpness, scanning the crowd with an intensity that sent a shiver down Valeryon’s spine.

“I’m Agent Mel,” the woman announced, her voice playful yet commanding. Despite her intimidating appearance, her demeanour was light, almost teasing, as she bowed with exaggerated flair, drawing a few nervous chuckles from the audience. “I’ll be your guide through this training process. Let’s keep this simple—no need to drag things out.”

With swift, precise movements, Agent Mel raised her arm, revealing a smooth, marble-like stone embedded in her wrist. The stone pulsed softly with a blue light, casting a faint glow over her hand as she tapped it lightly. “First, let’s talk about the Celestial Receiver.”

Valeryon glanced down at her own wrist, where a similar device was seamlessly integrated into her skin. The smooth surface was cool to the touch as she mimicked Agent Mel’s motion, a holographic screen burst to life before her, displaying a dizzying array of data.

“This little gem,” Agent Mel continued, her tone shifting to a more serious note, “is your lifeline. It’s your only connection to us at Mission Central while you’re out exploring the Outer Worlds. Unfortunately, communication is one-way,” she added, a hint of apology threading through her voice. “But don’t worry—we’ll keep you updated with everything you need to know, so make sure to check your Interface regularly.”

A wave of murmurs spread through the crowd as the weight of her words sank in. Valeryon felt it too—a tightening in her chest that made her shift uneasily on her feet.

Agent Mel’s voice cut through the growing tension. “The current page on your Interface is set to the Outer Worlds Library tab—OWL for short. Here, you can browse all the worlds available for entry. Once you’ve made your choice, simply proceed to the corresponding portal and step through when you’re ready.”

Valeryon’s eyes flicked to the holographic screen before her, where countless worlds were listed, each accompanied by a brief description. The sheer variety was staggering—worlds of searing deserts and frozen tundras, cities floating among the clouds, realms where time flowed backward. These were places she had only glimpsed in fantastical holo-programs, yet now they were real, within her reach.

Agent Mel’s playful smirk returned as she snapped her fingers, a spark of electricity dancing between them. “Ah, yes! One more thing. As you enter these worlds, you’ll assume the identities of natives. A magical Ban will prevent you from mentioning the Origin—your past, your life here—it’s all off-limits. But don’t worry; once you’re immersed in your new role, you won’t even notice the restriction. It’s just a minor inconvenience, really.”

The thought of stepping into a world where she could finally live out her life like everyone else was both thrilling and terrifying for Valeryon. She had spent her life observing others, analysing their interactions and emotions through screens, yet she had never participated herself. Now, she was about to assume a role she had only witnessed from afar.

Agent Mel straightened, her holographic form shimmering as she prepared to depart. “Well, that’s all from us! Good luck, Trainees! May the Celestials shine upon you!”

With a final, theatrical bow, Agent Mel’s image dissolved into a cascade of light, leaving behind an atmosphere crackling with anticipation. The hall erupted into a whirlwind of activity. Voices rose in excitement and nervous energy as Trainees began discussing their choices.

Valeryon remained still, feeling the enormity of the moment press down on her. Slowly, she exhaled, focusing on the Interface before her. The OWL tab displayed a seemingly endless list of worlds, each name accompanied by cryptic symbols. A red teardrop indicated bloodlines, marking worlds where her ancestors had ventured. A golden sword signified combat-focused missions, a golden pentacle suggested magic-centric missions, and a golden skull denoted death-related missions. Finally, a sparkling green tick marked worlds compatible with her abilities.

Her finger hovered over the blood drop symbol, and an overwhelming sense of inevitability washed over her, heavy and unyielding. With a reluctant tap, she filtered the list, watching as the vast selection narrowed down to a single entry: A Sorcerer’s Legacy. Beside it were a pentacle, a skull, and a green tick. The knowledge that both the Valeryons and the Florians—her ancestors—had chosen this world left her feeling conflicted. Was there something unique about this place?

As she selected the title, a detailed page expanded before her, outlining the primary missions she would undertake, paired with the life story of a native resident. The first mission: Graduate from an academy of sorcery. The second: Die of old age. The narrative was extensive, far more detailed than she had anticipated. Did she really need to read through all of this?

“Which world are you thinking of entering?”

Valeryon flinched, her heart racing as she turned to face the tall man from earlier. His intense purple eyes drew her in, making everything else fade into a soft blur. With him so close, details that had slipped by her notice previously came into focus. He wore polished black leather overalls that reflected the ambient light, faint runes stitched along the seams—protective enchantments, no doubt. Underneath, a faded pink shirt bore the marks of years gone by, frayed at the edges from countless washes, hinting at a life lived with purpose, though perhaps not always in comfort.

Valeryon’s gaze drifted to his muscular arms, crisscrossed with scars that were jagged and raw—nothing like the neat, surgical marks left by advanced medical procedures. In the Origin, where technology and magic had merged to create near-miraculous healing capabilities, these scars felt anachronistic. They were the kind of wounds that should have been erased by even the most basic healing technologies. Yet here they were, stubbornly etched into his skin. Had he encountered a Void beast? Those creatures left wounds that resisted even the most potent healing spells and treatments. Or was he from an underdeveloped planet where medical care was rudimentary?

"I apologise. Is that something you wish to keep private?" he asked, his voice cutting through her thoughts. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, its crookedness hinting at yet another injury that had failed to mend properly. His voice softened, tinged with a hint of embarrassment. "I was struggling to decide which world to select and thought it wouldn’t hurt to ask. There are just too many options.”

Valeryon inhaled deeply, her heart racing. Talking to real people was still a foreign experience, each word feeling like an unsteady step into unknown territory. Her life had been confined to the oppressive atmosphere of the Trial Grounds, with only holo-programs to glimpse the world beyond. She had consumed countless movies and livestreams, analysing human interactions through the filtered lens of scripted narratives. But this was different—messy, spontaneous, and overwhelmingly real.

“Have you tried filtering your options?” she finally asked, her voice steady and controlled, concealing the turmoil beneath.

He chuckled, a low, self-deprecating sound. “Unfortunately, I’m a bit tech-illiterate when it comes to these things. If it’s not too much trouble, could you help me out?”

“It would not be inconvenient at all,” she replied, surprising herself with the ease of her response.

As she navigated the Interface, demonstrating how to apply filters and sift through the overwhelming array of worlds, Valeryon observed him closely. His large, scarred hands seemed almost clumsy against the delicate controls, as if he were trying to handle something fragile with tools meant for brute force. What kind of life had left him so out of sync with technology that was second nature to her? Even the most remote worlds had access to basic tech, making his unfamiliarity feel out of place. Perhaps he came from a planet steeped in tradition, where the old ways still held sway.

“That’s incredibly useful! Thank you,” he said, his smile deepening the dimples in his cheeks.

Valeryon nodded, intending to return to her own Interface, but he spoke again, halting her movements. “So, what did you filter your selections by?”

“Ancestry.”

“Ancestry, I see... I think I’d prefer to avoid worlds tied to that if possible.”

Valeryon frowned slightly, sensing an undercurrent in his words that she couldn’t quite decipher. The dimming of his smile made her uneasy. Was he merely expressing a preference, or was he asking for guidance? After a brief hesitation, she suggested, “You might be able to remove those worlds by double-tapping the icon.”

“Really? Let me see…” His smile returned, radiant as the sun breaking through clouds. “Great! It absolutely does! Thank you!”

A sense of relief washed over Valeryon. “You’re welcome,” she murmured, her gaze drifting back to her Interface. Yet, the image of his smiling face lingered in her mind, distracting her from fully immersing herself in her task.

“Tsk. There are still so many options left. Which world are you thinking of entering?”

Valeryon hesitated, contemplating the vast array of possibilities laid out before her. The thought of following in her ancestors' footsteps felt much more manageable than wading through the endless choices alone, only to make a decision she might regret later. Seeing how she inevitably she fell into this pattern of thinking, she wondered if all her predecessors had too.

“A Sorcerer's Legacy,” she said finally.

“A Sorcerer’s Legacy? Let me check…”Laurel replied, his fingers stumbling across his Interface. As he scanned the information, his expression shifted, eyes widening for a moment before a delighted smile spread across his face. “Well, this is incredibly convenient.”

Valeryon felt a wave of tension wash over her when he directed his gaze back toward her, his eyes now tinged with a curious warmth.

“Would you like to form a team with me?” he asked, his tone inviting yet casual.

“Form a team? What do you mean?”

“Since it popped up on mine, the notification must have appeared on your Interface too. Why don’t you take a look and let me know what you think?” He gestured encouragingly.

Turning back to her Interface, she watched as a new window sprang to life: Increased interaction between Trainees has been noted. Would you like to invite Trainee Laurel Vesalius to form a team?

Laurel Vesalius. She mouthed his name silently, finding it beautiful, the syllables elegant yet strong.

“What does forming a team mean in these circumstances?” she finally asked, her gaze shifting back to him. It felt slightly uncomfortable to keep looking up at him, given their height difference, but proper courtesy demanded eye contact. So she made the effort, even though her veil obscured her face.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, his smile unwavering despite a hint of uncertainty flickering in his eyes. “But it’s an interesting option. Are you curious enough to explore it with me?”

She considered carefully. Forming a team could be advantageous—Mission Central wouldn’t include such an option without reason. Yet a sense of uncertainty lingered. What would this partnership entail? How would they work together? Stealing another glance at him, she made her decision, resolving to embrace the unknown.

Her heart raced anew as she felt more than heard his laughter beside her.

“I look forward to working with you… Valeryon.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the playful bow he directed toward her. It took effort to turn toward him, attempting to mirror his gesture with the formality she hoped masked her unease—an open palm pressed to her chest, a gesture she had observed in the recorded rituals from the Orcus Galaxy. “I look forward to working with you as well, Laurel Vesalius.”

They exchanged a few more words, and ultimately decided to proceed with her choice since none of Laurel’s ancestors had ventured into this world. As they prepared to step forward, Laurel paused and glanced at her thoughtfully. “We should probably hold hands to make sure we don’t get separated in the crowd. Would you be comfortable with that?”

Valeryon blinked at the large palm extended toward her, her heart hammering in her chest as she met his gaze. It felt surreal to be offered such an intimate gesture, especially from someone she barely knew. Wordlessly, she reached out, placing her gloved hand in his.

As their fingers intertwined, she marveled at the unexpected coolness radiating from his skin, even through the barrier of her gloves. His grip was firm yet gentle, guiding her forward with an ease that made her stomach flutter. The contrast fascinated her—his hands bore the roughness of experience, marked by scars and calluses, while hers remained untouched by such marks, a consequence of her healing abilities.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she focused on the task at hand. Together, they navigated through the bustling hall, the atmosphere vibrant with a mosaic of colours and sounds that overwhelmed her senses. Each portal pulsed with energy, beckoning them to step into the adventures that lay beyond. Following the coordinates displayed on her Interface, they aimed for the 30th portal from the left and the 80th from the right.

Finally, they reached their destination. Above them, a bright, glowing title hovered: A Sorcerer’s Legacy.

Laurel released a long sigh. “Here it is.”

"We should enter."

"Yes, let's go then."

Valeryon took a deep breath, her chest tightening with anticipation. She shut her eyes tightly, bracing herself for the disorienting sensation of portal travel.

However, as they stepped inside, the expected rush never came. Instead, her wrist pulsed with energy, prompting her to crack her eyes open. She frowned when she noticed they still seemed to be in the portal tunnel, surrounded by a bright, glowing blue light.

She glanced at Laurel, who met her gaze with an expression of uncertainty.

Suddenly, she realised she was still holding his hand. A wave of embarrassment washed over her, but she suppressed the feeling and gently withdrew her hand to access her Celestial Receiver.

The Interface, which had previously displayed the Origin World Library tab, was replaced by three choices: Before the Narrative, During the Narrative, After the Narrative.

Valeryon glanced at Laurel. “It seems we need to decide on a time period to enter.”

“Yes,” he replied, his brows furrowing in thought. “Which one do you think we should choose?”

“Did you read the Narrative?” she asked hopefully. With everything going on, and with how bothersome it had seemed, she hadn’t gone back to thoroughly read it. All she knew was that this was a world where the natives spent a great deal of time studying at a magical academy, embarking on fantastical adventures, making friends, battling enemies, and learning lost forms of powerful ancient magic. She hadn’t even paid enough attention to determine if the subject of the narrative was a boy or a girl. Had she known this would happen, she probably would have been more diligent in her reading.

Laurel shook his head. "I was hoping that you might have."

"I didn’t either. It was too long, and I thought it would be a waste of time since we would be learning about the world by immersing ourselves in it regardless."

Her response made Laurel burst out laughing, genuine mirth lighting up his features, and the sound surprised her. “You make an excellent point. So, which one should we enter?”

“Before the Narrative. We would be least affected by our lack of Narrative knowledge there.”

"I agree."

With that, they proceeded to select the first option.

A blinding flash of light enveloped them, followed by a strangely disorienting sensation that reminded her of the moment just before a fall. Then, everything went dark..