Solaena's [Guided] Journey (Fantasy LitRPG)

"...heard about the refinery zone of the twenty-first floor going dark a week ago? It happened again."

"...I tell you, too many factions are moving for this to be a coincidence. I feel a power grab coming."

"...yeah, someone claimed a minor faction seized two supply depots without a single warning, and they didn't even try to keep their claim, they just emptied it and moved on."

"...apparently three faction leaders from the thirty-ninth floor vanished within the same day."

"...you heard about the weird orders being distributed to all Sand Plunderers members?"

"...supposedly some floors are already barricading themselves."

In the two weeks since the Order's expedition departed alongside many [Ambition]-driven pseudo-powerhouses who only wanted one thing, and that was to migrate towards a better, more developed Sector as part of a real faction with influence and opportunities, it became more apparent by the day that some factions were having ideas.

From the words I was eavesdropping on while flying through corridors, many believed it was all a prelude to a series of power grabs like there had been hundreds before.

It would simply be one on a wider scale, with the old, entrenched powerbases being carved anew by the future generation of individuals who preferred being a giant among fairies—those who desired to remain in the Nexus-forsaken Red Sand Sector—rather than a fairy among giants—those who would rather step outside the familiar confines of the only Sector they had ever known, to pursue a grander Path.

Wiser, more knowledgeable ones deemed the present circumstances to clearly be exceedingly suitable for taking actions, but that those actions could be of whatever kind, be they power grabs...

Or much nastier undertakings that simply left no traces for anyone to witness or talk about.

I was of this belief.

I believed that in the wake of the Order expedition’s organization, a power vacuum had been created.

I also believed that Civilization hated nothing more than unclaimed authority, unsecured resources, and opportunities left temporarily without a clear owner.

Consequently, as was expected in such circumstances, [Chaos] was perceived as a tool by those with grand [Ambition]s of power, and was wielded with relatively high effectiveness, unknowingly spreading like some sort of corruption.

Except this was natural.

When the Order's expedition came back, and the power blocs solidified, [Order] would once more be seen as the most beneficial path going forward, thus stifling and inhibiting any who wished to continue wielding the astonishing power a bit of [Chaos] could prompt.

And throughout it all, above all during those uncertain times, I would remain in the Prime Temple, steadily developing my Essence, putting my safety and the sustained tranquility of my environment in the hands of the Faith.

On an aside, the thought that I would one day have to repay the Faith for everything it had done and was doing for me was crossing my mind more than once recently.

Considering how I would soon leave it all behind in pursuit of new horizons, the reason why was pretty obvious.

Not that it meant I intended to immediately seek a way to repay anything as of yet.

Beyond the handful of individuals—Magister Eliott, Guardian Elric, Scribe Nita, and others like them—toward whom I genuinely felt some measure of obligation, the Faith's purpose had always been to support those who sought to become something greater, after all.

It was not really an investment for which repayment was exactly expected in any manner of short periods of time.

Therefore, for the present me, the most meaningful way to "repay" the Faith was not through some direct act of gratitude.

It was to fulfill the potential they had chosen to support.

To continue walking my Path.

And to ensure their belief in me was proven justified.

It was a beautiful convergence of interests, one I knew I should not forget until I found a way to apply something similar to my Path.

Would it be possible for those who had [Faith] in me to be [Guided], somehow?

That would truly ease my way to developing my [Faith]-handling Aspect line, making it relevant much earlier than it ought to be—

My [Awareness] alerted me to someone soundlessly creeping up on the alley to my right.

I looked over the edge, through the [Darkness]...

"Solaena," Archivist Osgar emerged from the [Darkness] right where I had been looking, his short stature and exhausted vibe making him one of a kind, "There's been a call for all Sentinels and healers, you should report to the infirmary as soon as possible."

"Sure." I nodded, my eyes not leaving his shadowed form until he faded back into the [Darkness] and vanished like he was never here.

For a second, I reconsidered going with a convergent synthesis for the [Secrecy] Aspect, imagining how far I could bring the [Darkness] Aspect if I made it a pillar of my Path...

But no.

Synthesizing the [Secrecy] Aspect was only the start, according to Stavros.

And unless I went through a miraculous enlightenment on the nature of [Darkness] and advanced it to Tier 4 or 5 tomorrow, I had no reason to hold onto its concept.

[Darkness] was a part of [Secrecy], one of its facets, but [Secrecy] was so much more.

[Secrecy] could be found anywhere, in places where no [Darkness] could exist, and I knew I didn't want to dwell in [Darkness] for the remainder of my existence.

The only place I anticipated [Darkness] to persist for centuries to come was when I went to sleep.

And I had no intention of forming one of the Aspects part of the [Sleep] Aspect line.

Wrapping up my mindless logistics document browsing, I took off and quickly found myself speeding through much busier and livelier corridors than usual.

"...whatever’s happening, it’s happening on multiple floors, and it's spreading."

"...apparently some factions started openly fighting."

"...I heard entire floors got sealed off after armed groups moved in."

"...they’re saying the Lower Temples are already overflowing with injured and refugees."

"...how many Sentinels are being deployed?"

"...it had to happen while hundreds took part in the Order's expedition, evidently."

"...the children's lodgings will soon be packed, won't they? Tough luck for my nephew."

I didn't give much credence to whatever I was hearing, but I still helped myself to their understanding of what was happening, flawed as it might be, to derive a base understanding of the situation.

From what I [Insight]ed, something supposedly transpired in the lower floors, and either the Lower Temples were already filling with injured and refugees, or they would soon be, and when that became a reality, the Faith would have to live up to its own prestige.

If that was the case, the whole thing was simply an amped-up version of the healing and recruitment rounds I partook in during my spare time.

As I neared the infirmary and beheld the mounting activity, with people half-running to and from it while carrying empty or loaded boxes designed to be manually transported by giant-sized beings, it gave away the vigorous ongoings of the Faith.

Then, it was only a matter of finding one of the chief healers who usually handled anything that had to do with healer assignments and deployments, a matter which was swiftly solved when a swarmed Archivist Trius entered my sight.

Making myself visible, I unhurriedly waited for my turn.

"Solaena." A turn that arrived quicker than I thought, as I had barely waited a minute before Archivist Trius' eyes locked on me.

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"I already assigned you to the emergency Sentinel response team departing for the fourth floor Lower Temple. Gear up, find your team in four-nineteen, and you should be departing in an hour or two depending on how quickly your team fills up and receives its supplies."

Not bothering to answer beyond returning him an indifferent nod, I bolted out of the clustered infirmary and got on my way to the Sentinel armory where I kept my Sentinel gear.

Putting on my armor and equipping myself for genuine engagements took a quarter of an hour, following which I was on my way to the Sentinel deployment rooms, efficiently locating room four-nineteen.

"Stack the medical crates closer to the exit. We’re wasting time walking around them every five minutes."

"You, re-check the pressure seals on the transport cases again."

"Take extra hydration paste. The lower floors have failed to receive much of them all week, to my knowledge."

"Keep the portable stretchers accessible, we don't want them buried under supply packs when we start triaging people."

"Don’t forget to mark your own supplies. My last deployment turned into a complete mess when everyone started grabbing whatever they could reach when they needed it."

Inside, familiar and unfamiliar people, all of whom I sighted at least once on the high-speed training ground, were competently arranging everything.

"Ah, Solaena. Took your sweet time to get your ass out of the document repository, didn't you?" one called upon sighting me.

"I do love my mind-numbing rows of numbers," I acknowledged before asking the obvious question, "Where do I go?"

"Out of the way. As usual." Another that I begrudgingly considered a friend due to our numerous speed contests intruded, before shortly returning to moving crates around like he hadn't just thrown a merciless quip.

"You're a healer, so do your mystical things with the medical supplies. We don't know where what goes and what you'll need first."

"Alright."

Pulsing my [Awareness] to get a brisk lay of the disorderly room I was tossed into, I didn't even need to rely on [Guided] to start shedding some much-needed [Order] onto the organization of the medical supplies.

Being the first—and presently sole—healer here, I had free rein to structure things my way.

I did so by seamlessly integrating with the system already in place, merely rearranging which crates went where depending on my perceived importance of it, while shouting explanations around, adding to the hubbub to make sure my [Will] was heard and understood.

Less than half an hour later, the last Initiates and Warriors who were sent to requisition additional gear and whatnot returned, and a Ylph male wearing the same type of armor set as me, recognizable from the two massive matted, feathery wings that extended from his back, clapped and called for our attention.

"Alright everyone, I am Guardian Cipactli, I'll be the leader of this team," he started.

"Our assignment is to get to the fourth floor Lower Temple as quickly as we reasonably can to deliver supplies and ensure it persists as a sanctuary from the developing factionary conflicts."

"Extraordinarily, due to those same factionary conflicts, we will descend the floors through the outer platforms, employing a route only those with our abilities can hope to complete in any reasonable length of time."

"As this team had to be gathered up in a scurry, not everyone here will be able to comfortably take this route, so those who doubt their ability to manage sustained freefall, do not hesitate to hand your burden over to those who are confident."

"Move out," he finished, bending down to start strapping a front-facing supply box to his torso, where it wouldn't hinder his wings' range of motion.

It was less elaborate than the backpack given to me by the Fairy House in terms of unhindered airborne transportation, but it made up for it with its sheer practicality.

Everyone except me and a couple of others who did not look like your average Sentinel similarly started to tie various amounts and sizes of boxes, my two fellow healers included, and five minutes later, with everything picked clean, Guardian Cipactli opened the march.

As my team formed up in columns, I readily took to the air to follow along as we intruded into the wide corridors connected to the Sentinel deployment rooms.

Corridors that, despite their considerable width, were already so saturated with teams marching in similar formations that their original spaciousness had effectively vanished.

Being a team made up of only lightweight members, Guardian Cipactli knowingly set up the pace high, resulting in our group of forty-odd people swiftly leaving the premises of the Prime Temple and entering the fifty-fourth floor proper.

From there, if I understood right, it was only a question of making it to the outer rim of the rift frame, where every year, metal was gradually added to expand the city, giving birth to a structurally unsound environment no one but experienced workers and species with some flying capabilities felt safe to walk into.

In our case, we were mostly flyers, with only a couple of exceptions, and even then, those exceptions were species known for their light weight.

The foot traffic to the outer rim being exponentially lower the nearer one approached the area, it took us barely one hour to reach our first descent opportunity.

A gaping hole.

One that was no doubt designed to welcome an inter-floor structure such as a staircase, an elevator, or something privately designed and funded by people who really should have migrated to better developed Sectors.

"Each descent is to be executed four at a time. Only those with absolute confidence in their flying capabilities can become part of the first wave. No security team and setup, we're doing it fast."

Instructions were given, and soon enough, the first four initiated their descent after having picked up additional supply boxes from the less confident flyers.

On my part, I really wanted to do my part, but there really wasn't any appropriate fairy-sized box for me to carry, so I descended as part of the fourth wave and helped secure the landing area by keeping to a considerably high altitude.

Not that it ended up serving any purpose beyond prevention, as ten minutes later, everyone had landed with no accidents, and Guardian Cipactli signaled to resume our trek.

One floor after another, we avoided all the potentially congested locations and descended through whatever unfinished transit shafts and half-abandoned passageways meant for logistical movement rather than public traffic we found.

Even then, we glimpsed the growing [Chaos].

It was simply impossible to fully avoid it.

Huge plumes of smoke drifted upward from distant areas, accompanied by both cries of distress and battle, and sometimes the grating sound of collapsing infrastructure.

Scared people hailed us the moment they recognized our affiliation with the Faith through our Sentinel armor.

Some begged for protection.

Others begged for information.

Most simply looked terrified.

We offered hollow words of reassurance and moved on with little real empathy.

Only a rare few children were taken in—those for whom we had confirmed the deaths of their entire families—further burdening ourselves willingly.

For refusing them outright would have contradicted one of the founding principles of the Faith.

Everyone possessed the potential to forge a Path [Worthy] of being remembered.

What most lacked was proper guidance, opportunity, and the mindset necessary to pursue it.

As for the adults only now awakening to the realities of Civilization and existence, it was generally considered too late for compassion of that kind to meaningfully change their circumstances.

They should have sought out a Lower Temple of the Faith earlier.

They should have allowed themselves to be [Guided] toward one of the countless minor factions aligned with the Faith.

Those factions were perpetually searching for motivated individuals, after all, and there existed minor factions for everything imaginable.

Crafting, trading, transportation, scavenging, exploration, logistics, security, maintenance, combat, information gathering, and countless other specialized pursuits...

All activities capable of forming the foundation of a viable Path that one could rely on to eventually be recognized.

By the time we descended to the twenty-seventh floor, we were forced to make a detour by the Lower Temple present on this floor to discharge the few kids we picked up, and then we were on the move again.

Some may be of the opinion that saving those few kids had served no purpose, but studies on the subject had proven the opposite centuries ago.

A single life saved during an operation that wasn't intended to save one had far-reaching consequences that could end up giving birth to a generation of powerhouses who held the Faith in good faith.

The lower we descended, the more the atmosphere shifted from tense uncertainty into unmistakable crisis, with all the indications of multiple faction wars being ongoing appearing all over the horizon.

From that point onwards, we were not able to care for all the powerless lives we stumbled upon, and thus acted according to protocols.

Our assignment was the priority.

Our duty was to reinforce the fourth-floor Lower Temple and deliver supplies there.

We had to believe that the other teams following in our wake would be able to help those we left behind.

By the time we free-fell our way to the fourth floor, nearly a day—fourteen hours to be exact—had passed, and beholding the atrocious state the floor was in as we made our way towards its inner perimeter, with ongoing fighting and vandalizing, we temporarily shifted into patrol formation.

Eyes everywhere.

All threats reported loud enough for the threat itself to know it was called.

Split up into teams of four to cover more ground.

As an Initiate, despite being a healer, I didn't rely on my status to be protected like my two fellows and carried out what was expected of me.

In any case, from my perspective, doing that did not mean endangering myself.

It meant preemptively preparing myself for dangers, as being passive was something I only accepted while in the midst of hundreds of allies and in a safe and sound location.

The fourth floor in its current state certainly wasn't.

If it had ever been and ever could be.

When we loomed closer to the Lower Temple location, the magnitude of the ongoing conflicts only further revealed itself, with the worst atrocities actively taking place under our eyes, alongside thousands of people calling out to us for assistance.

We didn't stop, only efficiently taking care of whoever had been unlucky enough to commit the crime of forever vanishing a seed of potential from existence, then forced our way towards the swarmed Lower Temple by jumping over collapsing and burning buildings.

How metal could be so flammable if one had the correct tools was really one of the great mystifying facets of reality.

Eventually, as one, we all beheld the great gathering of thousands upon thousands of giants seeking the safety of the Lower Temple's surroundings.

Well, giants for me.

For the others, it was a gathering of what the worst of them would call "hopeless lowlives".

And seeing them massing so desperately and frantically for scraps of safety, I didn't feel like contradicting that calling.

"To me!" Guardian Cipactli's shout echoed from a street away, recalling us to him in short order.

Five minutes later, we made our way to the Lower Temple by force, parting the frantic crowd without giving them a side glance.

We were already there.

If they were [Worthy] of receiving help, we would welcome them at the Lower Temple.

Breaching what genuinely felt like an encirclement, I glimpsed the first sign of sustained [Order] in the form of an organized line of folks wearing all manner of clothes actively directed by individuals wearing Seeker robes.

That's when I sighted the first proper field infirmary, injured [Order]ly lined in bloodied rows with amateur healers fussing over them relatively ineffectively.

I guessed it was time I got to work.

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