Chapter 33: Time Samurai

Sam

November 30, 1786, Realm Timeline, Vienna, Duchy of Austria

'The package is ready for delivery.'

The SMS increased Sam's anxiety. The feeling had loomed as an ominous tension for the previous week. For a moment, he felt like a villain in a Bond movie. Ten choppers were ready to launch the bio-weapon, flying over the designated zone, perpendicular to the wind currents.

We don't have much choice. Better to target the horses than humans.

At times, he regretted that Earth hadn't sent tactical nukes through the portal. How easy it would have been to show Napoleon the middle finger, in the way of a giant mushroom radioactive cloud. Now, he was thankful that the choice was not in his hands.

'The delivery is approved.'

He sent the SMS, and hurried through the falling snow, big flakes caressing his face. December was only a couple of days away.

Ho ho ho.

All of a sudden, he found himself facing a wall. He had taken a right before the right turn because he didn't know Vienna as well as Pressburg or Brno. A grating noise behind him made Sam pivot, grabbing his katana. The hilt was cold and damp from the snow, and he wrapped his right hand tighter around the grip, his thumb pressing on the tsuba to push the blade out an inch while his left hand pushed the sheath into the proper position.

A shadow advanced at him, a rapier in hand, lowered enough so its tip scratched the cobblestones. Out of fashion, yet still a vicious weapon.

"Nothing personal," the figure said, raising the sword to point at Sam. It was a man dressed in seventeenth-century fashion, wearing a cape and a wide leather hat. Since no local would have risked being a laughingstock, he was an Outworlder. A Renegade.

"Are you cosplaying Captain Alatriste?" Sam scoffed, feeling the thrill filling him.

"Is this Alatriste somebody worth crossing blades with?" the man asked, which meant he wasn't a Renegade after all.

Sam lowered his center of weight, activating his Prediction and Enhanced Speed. At the same time, he closed his eyes, so his moves could not be guessed from the direction he looked. The man, if he had to believe the shapes that were moving in his head, was good. Fast, accurate. Engaging in a long and risky exchange of hits was unwise.

"Who sent you?" Sam asked, channeling Warp Dash in the background. He needed three seconds for it now.

The man sighed. "I won't deny a man about to die his final request. The prince. F—"

Warp Dash activated. Sam's katana cut through empty space. The swordsman was no longer there.

I underestimated him... Sam thought, looking down at the sword planted in his chest. Then everything went black.

Fuuuck!

Gasping, Sam opened his eyes. He was on all fours, vomiting on the grass. Somebody was holding him by the midriff. A middle-aged man with a jovial face.

"It's okay, dear, it's okay. You'll be fine... Here, here," the man patted Sam's back. "Why don't you go to the bathroom to clean up your face?"

"Yes, father," Sam said, getting on his feet with the man's help and walking fast—despite wobbling—toward the closest cloakroom.

Why the heck did I call him father? And... how do I know where the bathroom is? I have never visited this palace. Palace? What's going on?

Sam stopped for a second to examine the tall, majestic building, looking around as well. Behind him was a park in the English style. A lawn half a mile long, with trees here and there, and forests in the back, with mountains capped with snow a little further. Above the mansion, a pale, white full moon was up in the sky, even though it was day.

"Am I dreaming?" Sam asked himself aloud. "Was that fight also a dream?"

He patted his chest, searching for the wound.

"Aaaah!" he screamed. He had just patted a boob.

"Are you all right, gracious milady?" the butler asked, opening a French door.

"No, Hans, I'm not all right," Sam snapped in a girlish voice. "Not all right at ALL!" he screamed hysterically, running away.

He darted through the doors, passing near the man whose name he knew but had never met, through a salon she hated for its Art Nouveau style—and Sam adored Art Nouveau—ending in a luxurious bathroom with a tub that could have fit Goliath, and that didn't mean the Biblical giant, but her horse.

Fuuuck! Did I transmigrate? Shit! I'm dead.

The mirror above the lavoir reflected a young girl, maybe eighteen, with freckles, boyish because of her short blond hair, but cute. There was a tag above her.

Elouisa Von Samurai, heir of Samuel III Von Samurai, duke of the Bohemian, Slovakian, and Moravian Protectorates, co-ruler of Trans Danubia, honorary president of the Republic of Krakov, Chancellor of the Austrian Empire.

What. The. Fuck?

A menu opened. The girl was a Scientist, in the second evolution tier, whatever that meant, and had an Intelligence of 80, Physical Stats in the high twenties, and everything else eighteen. And he instantly knew that the girl had invested points in useless stats just to reflect her age.

Sam washed his face thoroughly at the cold-water tap. He didn't wake up. Something was nagging him to the point of a headache. The reason for his vomiting. Something he... she had forgotten about.

The bathroom window was open, and she peeked out, pushing on her toes to reach the adequate height.

There was a crowd on the front lawn, including her mother, who was struggling to keep Elouisa's twin sister from jumping into the crowd and screaming slogans about justice for the oppressed. The oppressed she pleaded for were different each month. That was one of the reasons Elouisa was designated as heir.

She should stick with one cause, for goodness sake.

Fuck... I'm starting to think like her... Will my personality be absorbed?

Elouisa's father was giving a speech about peace and victory, and how magnanimity on the part of the victors was the best path forward. He gestured toward a group, the losers' ambassadors, and they cheered. Everyone loved her father. He was strong, kind, and righteous.

Mechanically, she picked up the newspaper from the table near the bathtub. The year was nineteen and twenty. The front page was about a World War that had ended with the Allies' victory against France, with Napoleon leading their armies. It was the same guy, only over a hundred and fifty years old. Lafayette the Fifth, the French Dictator, had been exiled to New Zealand as the archipelago's king, a consolation prize, and the Republican constitution restored.

All that made Sam dizzy. She exited the bathroom like a condemned person walking to the scaffold, returned to the lobby, then took a corridor, walking mechanically toward her father's study. Elouisa was his secretary. She remembered leafing through some papers she wasn't supposed to see.

What did I... the girl found out?

There was a battle in her... his mind. Sam hated the idea of taking over the body of one of his descendants. Elouisa deserved to live her own happy life.

Did she die, and I transmigrate into her?

Neither of you died.

Somebody had just spoken in his head.

"Who's there?" Sam-Elouisa asked.

The Seer.

"Fuck!" Sam-Elouisa gasped.

You have ten minutes before you're returned to your own body. Solve the quest.

"What quest?"

There was no answer. The quest was something related to the study. Only thinking about it made Elouisa retch. She arrived in front of the door, her heart beating like mad. After a short hesitation, she entered.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from NovelPhoenix; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

There was a fire burning in the fireplace, despite the windows being open to the warm May. An old, wrinkled man in a wheelchair stared at the fire, a folder in hand. The only one of his kind. It contained the schematics of their latest bio-weapon and the photos of the tests on prisoners of war. Skeletons lying in puddles of melted flesh, eyeballs floating on the grime. The weapon had not been used, in the end, because Napoleon had pulled yet another miraculous victory out of his tricorn hat at the last moment.

"Burn it, Sam," Sam whispered, shivering. In the rocking chair was an older version of himself.

"What if war starts again?" the old man asked, staring at the fire.

She remembered something else. The terrorist attack. Someone had shot at her father. Elouisa had jumped in front of him because he was the hope for the people. And her grand-grandmother, Penelope, had jumped in front of Elouisa. Sam had been devastated by her death and had put together the bio weapon using some old elven curses and modern tech.

"Burn it. We'll figure something else."

"I'm too old to figure things out."

"Then I will figure it out... Burn it. That's what Penny would say."

"I'm too old to fall for sentimental tricks," Sam sighed, pulling back the folder toward him.

Elouisa remembered how she had pleaded with him before, saying the same, and had failed. The Sam part inside her leaned forward, whispering in his own ear.

"You're forgetting something very important."

"And what would that be, sweetie?"

"You're old. This is not a request; it's a courtesy. You have ten seconds to burn it, or I'll kick your old ass and burn it myself. Capisce?"

With a short, snappy gesture and a short laugh, the old man threw the folder into the fire.

"I..." he opened his mouth, as if considering what he was about to say. "I'm proud of you. Can you take this old man to the party?"

Sam floated into nothingness. It was a gray, infinite space. Or at least it seemed so.

Congratulations. You have evolved to the Second Tier*. You are level 34. +10 to Presence.

*At the Second Tier, your stats are no longer compared to a normal human being. You are now considered an evolved human. Your body can store and use more Mana. As such, each point in your stats is 1.5 times of an average person. Applies retroactively.

"Second what?"

"You designed an Interface able to learn, right? It interacted with the users and the local Mana. It decided there would be evolution thresholds one can overcome only when they overcome real challenges."

This time, the voice was real, resonating around.

"Seer?"

"Yes, it's me."

"Where are we? Why am I not back?"

"You are frozen in time, at the exact moment you were wounded, and I'm in the future. You have to select your new skills and invest your points before you return. You have stored them all since level ten. A wise decision, but it's time to finally allocate them."

"Yes."

"What the fuck?"

"Portals work in complex ways. While you traveled to the eighteenth century, I arrived in the twenty-first. Do you remember how I was supposed to work?"

"A satellite or something?"

"Exactly. I was in a small rocket. I arrived on a highway, with a truck charging at me. I managed to activate the launch a second before being Isekaied."

"What?"

"It was a joke. Once in space, I powered myself with solar energy and inspected what was happening.

"The tech of the Realm was still behind Earth. No satellites, but they had radios. No airplanes, only blimps, and so on. On the other hand, the nanites you invented had multiplied into twelve thousand people, the original System bearers' descendants.

"They were, and still are, a new aristocracy. None were as powerful as the original bunch, but in time, that would have led to tyranny. I compensated by giving the Interface to everybody. I came up with the idea, but it was one of Elouisa's descendants who figured out how."

A suspicion made its way into Sam's mind. "Wait! Have you become the System?

"No. The Yew Virus you created was modified to carry magic instead, and was spread worldwide. The Interface is working as you intended. Individual modules are installed in the subconscious, developing the bearer's magical powers, provided they are of age. The Class Awakening is a big and important ceremony. People have multiple choices, but very few are as powerful as the original users, to avoid superhero inflation. Technically, I'm also a System user because, at some point, bio-computers were invented, and I merged with one. My powers are time-related."

"And you interacted with my old self's past."

"Yes. There was a resonance. That was the day you launched the yew virus, which eventually would become the new Interface. Hear me out. There's a good chance you survive if you choose your upgrades wisely."

"But I did survive. I just met myself."

"You met an alternate Sam. Bringing one's consciousness into the same future would have created a time paradox. Sorry, my intervention time is over. I cannot offer any other advice beyond investing your points wisely. It was an honor meeting you."

The voice went away, and Sam felt alone, with only that emptiness around. He was eager to return, but apprehensive at the same time. There was a sword in his chest, after all. However, the only way was to do as suggested. He read the next notification:

You have 72 Free Attribute Points to invest. You will gain new active skills and passives according to your choices. Your class will evolve accordingly.

Despite having grown in most stats, his Magical category was the weakest. Immediately, he knew there were two possible paths to take. Invest in Body, and hope he'd survive an otherwise lethal hit, as Tristan or Dorian could do, or go for Magic, and hope he would learn some new tricks, like healing himself.

What am I talking about? I took a sword through my heart. I need Constitution and Endurance... Wait... The Seer twice said to invest wisely. Did he mean I should grow my wisdom? Really? How can wisdom save me from being stabbed? If I were wise, I would have known that guy was dangerous. Fuuuuck... I want to go home... tell Penny how smart and cute her grand-granddaughter is... Maybe not that she took a bullet for her...

The stress was making him rant.

Here goes nothing. Max out Wisdom, and put the remaining two points in Arcane Power.

Congratulations. You have reached 100 in your chosen stat. This is an important threshold. The Interface will not allow you to invest any more points in it; however, raising it through training, enchanted gear, or buffs is possible.

Wisdom means a deep understanding of how things work. Ripple effect: +3 in all stats.

+1 second in Prediction duration.

Warp Dash activation no longer requires channeling before execution.

Choose one skill from the following:

To be or not to be. Phase out of reality. Reappear within twenty feet of your initial point, one to three seconds back in time—at your choice. If you're hurt, your body will be healed and returned to the original state, except for the Mana you spend on the skill. Has a chance to refresh if you kill a foe within the same interval you jumped back in time; otherwise, one use per day. Evolves Insight into Time Insight.

Alternate Organs. Your wisdom spreads throughout your body. For three minutes, if your heart or brain is damaged, you can use an alternate organ to take over their function. You need to be healed to at least a minimum level of functionality before the time expires. Evolves Constitution into Samurai Constitution.

First choice, duh!

You have learned the skill: To be or not to be. Your class has evolved to Time Samurai. Insight (stat) has evolved into Time Insight.

To be or not to be unlocks the related skill Seconds Matter: Take a second and slow it down by a factor of ten. Works only before To be or not to be or Warp Dash. Scales with Arcane Intimidation and Time Insight.

Name: Samuel Klingner

Class: Time Samurai

Level: 34 (Second Tier)

Body

Strength: 35

Athletics: 44

Constitution: 25

Dexterity: 23

Endurance: 33

Speed: 23

Mind

Intelligence: 30

Wisdom: 100 (Pinnacle)

Perception: 33

Knowledge: 43

Focus: 33

Willpower: 23

Bushido

*Arcane Intimidation: 23

Time Insight: 23

Mana Capacity: 25

Strike Power: 23

Soul Resonance: 23

**Reputation: 43

*A combination of Arcane Power and Intimidation, this stat grows your magical powers while intimidating your foes. An intimidated target is more vulnerable to your skills.

**This stat influences your social standing. Above 40, your class performs as a Daymio, offering a +5% damage to the warriors who accept you as their leader.

Skills:

Passives:

System Interface / Universal Translator / Stability

Combat:

Warp Dash / Iaijutsu Strike / Prediction / Enhanced Speed /The Pretense / To be or not to be.

The sharp pain came and disappeared. Sam jumped into the past and reappeared behind the assassin, his blade resting on the man's neck. He even saw the beginning of his own Warp Dash before it faded out. The rope he had looted from the French Mage, which was used as his kimono belt, unwrapped itself and went around the attacker's legs and wrists.

"Move, and you're dead," Sam ordered, heaving more from the stress than from exertion. "Drop your sword."

The assassin's fingers relaxed, and the rapier fell on the cobblestones.

"Who hired you?"

"Francis, I told y—"

"Directly?"

"Through a rich Vlach refugee. He has a swords shop on the—"

"I know him. How do you know he works for the prince?"

"I followed him. They met in a pub. How did you evade my hit?"

"It's a trade secret. I don't know what to do with you," Sam confessed. "Why should I let you leave?"

"You're not the only mark tonight," the man said in a hurry. "And that second mark will be dealt with by a full team of Renegade special forces. Let me go, and I'll tell you the other target."

"Tell me, and I'll think about it," Sam said, relaxing the pressure of his blade's edge a bit.

"It's your woman"

"What?"

His gasp was enough for the hitman to turn into smoke and disappear, throwing his cape in Sam's face. Sam swiped his sword around, but the assassin was gone, leaving behind his rapier.

"Shit!" Sam cursed and started running toward the Embassy.