Chapter 24
The building is a nondescript grey. Three stories.
There is a guard at the entrance, giving anyone who approaches a mean look.
Taking a deep breath, I gather the courage to go forward.
He looks me up and down. “Password?”
“Kresva,” I answer, a bit apprehensive about what I’m getting myself into.
When I’d asked Teras about mercenary jobs, he first tried to direct me to some rundown shady building where apparently those deals went down. As much as I needed the money, I couldn’t afford any legal issues that might reveal my identity.
When I confronted Teras about the lack of safety involved, he said that’s the only way I can make quick money and that the jobs are usually for low levels and not that dangerous.
Of course, I refused. It was during those conversations that he first mentioned Utopiya—but as something far-fetched that he thought was more myth than reality.
After some back and forth, I found out it was an invite-only institution and there were rumors that one could get an invite if they were deemed worthy.
For that, one must go to the Bridge of Gorres at the exact time the two moons were diametrically opposite.
If deemed worthy, you get a password. If not deemed worthy…
.nothing happens—which is why it is considered a mythical place since most people do not pass the test.
Now that I’m here, though, I have to wonder if perhaps I should have just gone to Teras’s gathering even if it proved to be more dangerous.
The password is approved.
With a nod, the guard steps away and allows me to enter. “Welcome to Utopiya.”
A masked male greets me and guides me down a dark hallway, into a small room. Inside, the room is bare save for a red wall.
“Please step through the red wall.”
I frown at the command, but do as he says. Tentatively touching the red wall, I note how it swallows me whole. The next time I open my eyes I’m in a different dimension of sorts. In front of me, thousands of round silver tokens swirl in the air.
“Please choose one and press your thumb onto the center,” the voice of the masked male echoes.
I do as told, and the next time I blink I’m back in the room, next to the masked man.
“This will record your identity and trigger a glamor spell so no one inside the meeting can see your true appearance. You’ve probably been told already, but our institution prides itself on full privacy and anonymity. Every transaction will be done using this token.”
I glance down at my token, and note that after touching it with my thumb, a new symbol appeared on its surface.
The masked male manifests a token in his hand as he proceeds to explain the intricacies of this technology.
“Should you wish to participate in any of the exchanges, you can scan your silver token at the time of the transaction. Each transaction will create a liminal space where the exchange of goods takes place. We call those liminal spaces proto-realms.”
He demonstrates by pressing his thumb on the token. Within a second, ten bubbles appear above. “For multiple transactions, you simply click on the one you desire. Once the transaction has concluded, that specific proto-realm disappears.”
I nod, intrigued by the concept of proto-realms. Does this mean this token is capable of creating mini-realms? If so, then the question naturally arises in my mind: who has such power? We’re talking about multiple realms per person, with tens if not hundreds of people using them at the same time.
Fascinating.
“I will illustrate an example. You and another patron decide to complete a transaction: the patron offers you a book on offensive runes and you offer to pay one thousand slova for it. Once you both scan your tokens, a proto-realm will open up for your transaction. You will deposit your funds in that space, the other person will deposit the book. Once both parties have fulfilled their obligations, the items are automatically distributed by the realm after which it will cease to exist.”
His explanation makes it even more intriguing.
I’ve never before heard of such technology.
Not only is it easy and intuitive, but it also maintains a much needed boundary between what happens in Utopiya and real life.
This anonymity will ensure that my identity is protected in case I take on an illegal job—that in itself makes me feel more secure about my decision.
“What about the job offerings?” I inquire later.
“The same concept. You scan your token once you agree on a job. However, in this situation, since the exchange is not entirely direct, the proto-realm will remain open until both parties have satisfied their side of the transaction. I will illustrate an example. A patron wishes to hire someone for protection for one day. These types of jobs typically offer half the payment upfront and half upon completing the services. You decide to take the job, so the proto-realm will provide you with your initial fee and any relevant information you might need for the job. At the end, the patron will confirm the services have been rendered and you will receive the remaining fee. That is when the realm will close. One thing to add: for any jobs undertaken within Utopiya, you must use the silver token so the glamor spell is activated.”
“I see.”
“Any questions?”
“No, that was pretty clear.”
“I must warn you. Our institution operates on secrecy. If at any point while performing a job assigned through Utopiya you are caught and interrogated, a self-defensive mechanism will be triggered within the token.”
I blink. “And what happens?”
“Your brain will be fried so no one can access your memories,” he replies matter-of-factly.
Right, not at all scary or dangerous. Teras’ offer sounds more and more appealing. But I don’t betray my true feelings.
I simply nod and accept the terms. By the Seven, this better be worth it!
Of course, due to how elusive and infamous Utopiya is, the jobs here will also be at larger scale than anything Teres could have offered me.
By completing just a few missions, I can earn enough money to not only give Moe more allowance, but also spoil her with clothes, jewelry and other items females like.
That alone gives me the strength to follow the masked male. He shows me to the room where the meeting is to take place, and as I open the door to go inside, I find him already gone.
As I step forward into the room, the first thing I note is the dim lighting. There are ten rows of five chairs, most of them already occupied. I take one of the empty seats in the back and wait for the meeting to start.
At exactly eight, a person appears in front of the room.
The previous dim lights start beaming. Even with the increased luminosity, as I look around, I see that the glamor doesn’t just alter the appearance of the participants, it creates a haziness around their form.
The moment I glance away, I immediately forget the person I’d been looking at before.
Interesting.
The meeting is split in two: first, the exchanges, then the job offerings.
Since I have no funds for the first, I only listen, curious about the items on sale.
One of the most common item is Zantrax. But compared to the vials I have, these ones come with specific information: the level of the warrior, the abilities, even how many hours the effect lasts, one figure for mortals and one for immortals.
My eyes widen as I realize that not only does Zantrax lasts differently for mortals and immortals, but that depending on the level of the essence, that interval becomes longer.
I wish I had a way to identify the levels of the vials I took from Denos.
The prices for these items are also staggering!
One vial of Zantrax at level five is a whopping fifteen kaths—equal to one thousand five hundred slova coins.
It’s not even the crazy amount—which I could not afford by working a full year—but also that kath as a currency is incredibly hard to come by.
Only the highest strata of society would have access to them.
Even as a public servant, the chances of me ever handling a kath are… below zero.
One patron even has a level six Zantrax, with a potency lasting up to thirteen days for immortals. But when he states his price—two hundred kaths—only silence greets him.
It makes sense why it would be so expensive.
Once a warrior reaches level five, every level above that includes a qualitative change.
Their strength is double that than at level five, and they unlock new abilities as well.
However, it is also extremely hard to reach level six.
Some people spend thousands of years stuck at level five.
In fact, based on the information I’d read in the books at the War Department, the average level of Tartareian warriors across the realm is level four.
Most people will be a level three or below, with a sizable number at level four—those are seen already as experts.
The true power, however comes after level five. And then again after level nine.
At level five, a warrior can enroll in the army, and at level nine, they’re officially given the title of Son of Tenebreis.
The highest level recorded in Tartareia is thirteen as far as I know, and that was a legendary warrior.
From what Elysand has mentioned before, the most powerful Houses have eleven and even twelfth level warriors, but they are incredibly rare.
Anything above level nine is considered out of the ordinary, hence why we need to monitor them.
The man in charge of the meeting asks if there are any other Zantrax transactions, to which everyone remains quiet.