Jeremy led Tess back through the estate’s corridors, retracing the
path they’d taken hours earlier. The service level’s practical
infrastructure gave way to smooth stone, wood paneling, and the artwork
she tried to avoid looking at. She kept her eyes on Jeremy’s back,
trying not to catalog everything she could strip for parts.
They climbed the stairs and stopped outside the receiving hall, where
she’d first met the Duke.
“His Grace is expecting you,” Jeremy said. He knocked twice, then
opened the door without waiting for a response.
The receiving hall was as expensive as it had been a couple of hours
ago. Polished stone floors, the massive window overlooking Sector 5,
furniture that belonged in museums. The Duke’s chair sat in the same
spot.
Duke Amos Tertian stood by the window, backlit by Sector 5’s glow. He
turned as she entered, and his expression flickered with surprise.
“Miss Rivera.” He checked a datapad on the nearby table. “That was…
remarkably fast. I expected the repair to take at least several more
hours.” He gestured to a chair. “Please, sit. We should discuss
compensation.”
Tess remained standing. “You already fed me, that’s worth more than
the repair. I didn’t even have to use parts since I repurposed what I
needed from the drying unit.”
“How resourceful. But food is not the full amount you’re owed for
such thorough work.” He pulled a credit chit from his pocket. “Plus
hazard compensation for working with sabotaged equipment.”
He held it out.
Tess eyed it and didn’t touch it. “That’s generous.”
“It’s fair.” Amos sat in his chair and leaned back. The movement was
relaxed, comfortable. Like they were equals having a conversation, not a
duke and a dock district repair tech. “Jeremy showed me the security
footage. Whoever destroyed that machine knew exactly what they were
doing. You rebuilt it in two hours with salvaged parts.”
“And a mysterious blank crystal your wife, uh… Lady Tertian, happened
to have.”
“Sara collects interesting things.” His smile widened. “She also said
you leveled up from the repair. Congratulations on reaching Level
5.”
BEE: Tess, your heart rate is elevated. Status update
requested.
Tess ignored Bee’s message. “Is there something else you need
fixed?”
“Several things, actually.” Amos picked up the datapad from the
nearby table and tapped through screens. “We have dungeon-tech systems
throughout the estate. Environmental controls, food processing, medical
equipment. Most of it hasn’t been properly serviced in years. Our
regular technicians can handle basic maintenance, but they lack
expertise with the more complex components.”
He looked up, and his eyes were warm. Genuine. “I’d like to hire you
for ongoing house calls. Case-by-case work, paid at our regular rates.
You’d have access to our workshop, our component inventory, whatever
resources you need.”
The offer hung in the air between them.
It was an excellent offer. Great, even. Regular work, excellent pay,
access to equipment she couldn’t get anywhere else. Every repair would
help her level up, and the Tertians clearly had systems complex enough
to push her capabilities and level her up.
“You’re thinking about it,” Amos said. Not a question, and took a
pointed breath. “You saved my daughter’s life by doing something that
shouldn’t have been possible. You fixed a deliberately destroyed washing
machine with improvised solutions and salvaged parts.”
He leaned forward. “I’m not looking for a regular repairwoman. I’m
looking for innovation.”
BEE: Tess, I lack contextual audio. Please describe your
situation.
“I…can’t believe I’m talking to Duke Tertian about a job offer.”
The Duke continued. “This is a business discussion, nothing
more.”
He was handsome. Not like the holos made him seem—those were too
polished, too perfect. In person, he had laugh lines around his eyes and
a scar along his jawline that suggested he’d done more than sit in
receiving halls giving orders. The gray at his temples looked
distinguished rather than old, and when he smiled it reached his eyes in
a way that made Tess forget for a moment that she was talking to one of
the most powerful people on Tertius-Prime.
“The work would be varied,” Amos continued. “Some repairs might take
hours. Others could take days. You’d set your own schedule, and I’d
never ask you to prioritize our work over your other clients. Rivera’s
Repairs would remain completely independent.”
“But?”
“No buts.” He picked up the credit chit and held it out. “Contractor,
not employment. We have broken systems. You have the skills to fix them.
Everyone benefits.”
Tess took the chit, glanced at the number, and nearly fell over.
Three thousand credits for two hours of work.
That was more than she’d made in the last two years combined. More
than Marcus had made in years, more than…
“You’re very good at this,” Tess said.
“At what?”
“Making offers that feel too good to be true.”
Amos laughed. It was warm and unguarded. “My wife says the same
thing. She claims I could convince a Delver to sell their equipment and
take up poetry.”
“Could you?”
“Probably. But I’d rather work with people who understand the value
of what they do.” He gestured to the credit chit in her hand. “You know
that’s fair compensation. You worked fast, you worked smart, and you
solved a problem my regular staff couldn’t. That’s worth paying
for.”
Tess checked the chit again. The numbers didn’t change.
Three thousand credits.
She thought about Marcus, the freighter, her friends in Sector 7 who
could barely afford food—and how easy it would be to say yes.
“Can I think about it?” she asked.
“Of course.” Amos stood and extended his hand. “Take your time. The
broken systems aren’t going anywhere.”
His handshake was firm without being aggressive. His palm had
calluses. He’d worked with his hands at some point, done more than sign
documents and attend formal dinners.
He was also a Level 47 Noble.
She hadn’t even considered using [ANALYZE] on him until now. Hadn’t
thought to look at his class like it didn’t matter. She’d just been…
listening. Trusting. Swept up in his charm and his reasonable
offers.
Level 47… and who knew what skills someone like that had to persuade
her, or even make her lower her guard. The level alone made him more of
a monster than a man.
Tess pulled her hand back.
“I should go,” she said.
“Of course. Jeremy will show you out.” Amos turned away, already
reaching for a datapad. “Oh, one more thing.”
Tess paused at the door.
“Sara mentioned the blank crystal. We can produce them, given time
and resources.” He glanced up. “If you’re interested, we could show you
how. The process is fascinating, and I think you’d appreciate the
technical complexity involved.”
A blank skill crystal. Something that shouldn’t exist outside the
dungeon, created through methods she didn’t understand.
“I’ll think about it,” Tess said.
She left before he could make any more offers.
Jeremy was waiting in the corridor. He led her back through the
estate in silence, giving her time to process.
Three thousand credits, access to resources she couldn’t get anywhere
else, partnership with House Tertian. All she had to do was fix
things—literally her job.
So why did it feel like she was signing something more than a repair
contract?
BEE: Tess, you have been silent for several minutes. Are you
safe?
Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
“Yeah, Bee. Just… thinking.”
BEE: About the Duke’s proposal?
“How did you…”
BEE: You said ‘talking to Duke Tertian about a job offer’
seventeen minutes ago. Contextual inference suggests a significant
proposal was made. My extrapolation algorithm is improving!
They reached the entrance hall. Jeremy opened the door, and afternoon
light spilled across the stone floors.
“Miss Rivera,” Jeremy said. “For what it’s worth, His Grace doesn’t
make offers he doesn’t intend to honor. If he offers something, he means
it.”
“Is there a catch?”
Jeremy’s professional mask cracked. “The Duke plays a long game.
Always has. If you work for House Tertian, you should know that nothing
here is as simple as it seems.”
He handed her a small card with contact information. “When you’re
ready to give your answer, use this.”
Tess took the card and stepped outside, through a different door than
she’d entered.
This entrance had a fountain that burbled. Gardens stretched in
geometric patterns. Haulers drifted past overhead, their engines
whisper-quiet.
She was halfway to the estate gates when footsteps sounded behind
her.
“Tess! Wait!”
Petra jogged across the courtyard, still in her Blade Dancer gear.
She looked flushed, like she’d been training.
“I just heard you were here.” Petra was still catching her breath.
“My father didn’t summon you, did he? I told him to leave you
alone.”
“There really was a washing machine.”
“Oh.” Petra’s expression shifted from concern to confusion. “Wait…
did he pay you?”
Tess held up the credit chit.
Petra looked at it. Her eyes widened. Then she started laughing.
“Three thousand credits?” She shook her head. “Three thousand credits
for a washing machine repair? Tess, that’s… that’s multiple years of
average sector 7 wages for a single job.”
“He said it was fair compensation.”
“It’s a bribe.” Petra was still grinning. “A polite,
technically-justifiable bribe wrapped in reasonable business language.
That’s pure House Tertian politics right there. Did he offer you ongoing
work too?”
“Maybe.”
“Of course he did.” Petra’s smile faded. “Tess, I told him to leave
you alone. I told him not to pull you into our world. You’re not
supposed to be one of his projects.”
“I’m not anyone’s project.”
“I know! That’s what I told him!” Petra ran a hand through her hair,
frustrated. “You saved my life because you’re good at what you do, not
because you owe House Tertian anything. I didn’t want him turning that
into political advantage.”
“Maybe he just needs his systems fixed.”
“Maybe.” Petra didn’t sound convinced. “But my father doesn’t do
anything without three backup plans and five different ways to profit
from it. If he’s offering you work, it’s because he wants something more
than clean laundry.”
“Should I turn it down?”
“I don’t know.” Petra looked genuinely conflicted. “The work is
legitimate. The pay is… excessive but not insulting. And you’d be good
at it. But once you’re in our world, it’s hard to leave. People will see
you as House Tertian’s technician, not Rivera’s Repairs.”
Tess looked back at the estate. Through the windows, the receiving
hall where she’d first met the Duke. It all looked so pristine and
stable, so far from the freighter’s cramped hold and the dock district’s
constant struggle.
“I need to think about it,” she said.
“Good. Think hard.” Petra squeezed her shoulder. “Whatever you
decide, I’ll support it. But don’t let my father’s charm decide for you.
He’s very good at making people want to agree with him.”
“I noticed.”
Petra grinned. “Come on. I’ll walk you to the tram station.”
They’d made it three blocks when Petra’s comm chimed.
She glanced at it. Frowned. “My father wants to see me.
Immediately.”
“I can find my way…”
“No, come with me.” Petra was already turning back toward the estate.
“If this is about you, being there will throw him off.”
“Petra, I really should…”
“Please. Just… trust me. If he’s changing terms or adding conditions,
you deserve to know.”
Tess followed her back through the courtyard, through the entrance
hall, up the stairs she’d descended fifteen minutes ago.
Petra didn’t knock on the receiving hall door. She pushed it open and
walked in.
“You summoned me, Father?” There was an edge in Petra’s voice. “I
hope this isn’t about Tess, because I specifically told you…”
“Petra.” Amos’s voice was calm. “Sit down, please.”
“I’d rather stand.”
“Sit. Down.”
Petra sat.
Amos looked at Tess. “Miss Rivera. How fortunate. Have a seat, if you
please?”
Tess sat. The receiving hall felt different now. Less comfortable.
More like a room where important decisions were made.
The door opened behind them.
Sara Tertian walked in, carrying a tray with tea. She took one look
at Petra’s defensive posture and Amos’s serious expression and
sighed.
“What did I miss?” Sara set the tray down and poured three cups. “And
why wasn’t I invited?”
“I was just about to explain something to Petra,” Amos said. “About
promises. And political leverage.”
“Oh good, a lesson.” Sara handed Tess a cup of tea. “This should be
entertaining.”
Petra’s jaw tightened. “Father, if you used Tess as bait to get me in
here…”
“You told me to leave Miss Rivera alone,” Amos said. “You made me
promise. Do you remember?”
“Yes.”
“And I agreed. Promised not to interfere, not to summon her, not to
turn her into a political asset.” He pulled up a screen on the nearby
table. “But you broke the washing machine, Petra. Which gave me a
perfectly legitimate reason to call for repairs.”
Petra went still.
“Show them,” Sara said, settling into a chair with her own tea. She
looked far too amused.
Amos rotated the screen so they could see.
Security footage filled the screen—the laundry room from two angles,
timestamped three days ago.
Petra stormed in carrying a bundle of clothes. She threw them into
the washing machine with enough force to rattle the drum.
“Oh no,” Petra muttered.
On screen, Petra had clearly thrown a vibroblade into the washer with
the clothes. The machine’s safety protocols engaged immediately,
refusing to start. Warning lights flashed.
Petra pulled open the maintenance panel.
Sara leaned forward. “Petra, you didn’t.”
On screen, Petra cursed colorfully and then bypassed the safety
limiters. Disabled the power regulation protocols, and forced the
machine into a full-power cycle, then stormed out.
The washing machine lasted around thirty seconds before it
exploded.
Sparks flew. Smoke billowed. The machine’s control panel melted into
slag.
Amos paused the footage.
The study was silent.
“You told me to leave Tess alone,” Amos said. “And I agreed. I gave
you my word.” He leaned back in his chair. “But, in politics, a promise
is only as good as your ability to back it up. The moment you sabotaged
my washing machine, you gave me legitimate cause to call for repairs.
Your promise became politically worthless.”
Petra’s face was red. Not with embarrassment—with anger. “You’re
using this as a lesson? Using Tess as a political prop?”
“I’m teaching you how power works.” Amos’s voice was firm. “You
wanted to protect Miss Rivera. That’s admirable. But you can’t protect
anyone if you give your enemies the tools to outmaneuver you.”
“You’re not my enemy.”
“Not today—but that could change.” He gestured to the frozen footage.
“What happens when you make a promise to someone who is your
enemy, and they find the leverage to make you break it? You lose
credibility. You lose power. You lose the ability to protect the people
you care about.”
Sara sipped her tea. “He’s not wrong, dear.”
“This is ridiculous.” Petra stood. “I broke your washing machine.
Fine. I’m sorry. But I will not sit here while you use Tess to make a
point.”
“The point is already made.” Amos closed the screen. “You wanted to
protect Miss Rivera from being pulled into our world. But you made a
tactical error, and it cost you the leverage to enforce that protection.
Learn from it.”
Petra turned to Tess. “I’m sorry. This is exactly what I told them
not to do. You’re not a game piece, and you shouldn’t be treated like
one.”
Tess looked at the credit chit still clutched in her hand. Three
thousand credits. Fair compensation, the Duke had said. Partnership, not
employment.
But also a lesson delivered to his daughter about political
maneuvering and the value of leverage.
She’d walked into their world without realizing it.
“Can you maybe not do this while I’m here?” Tess said. Her voice was
tight.
“Of course.” Amos stood. “Jeremy will show you out. Again. My
apologies for the theatrics.”
“The offer still stands,” Sara added. “The work is legitimate,
regardless of the object lesson. You’d be good at it, and we’d pay you
fairly.”
“Excessively,” Petra muttered.
Tess stood. The tea sat untouched on the table. “I’ll think about
it.”
She made it to the door before Amos spoke again.
“Miss Rivera. One more thing.”
She didn’t turn around.
“Petra was right to protect you. She was just wrong about the
method.” His voice was gentle. “If you work with us, I promise you’ll be
treated as a partner, not a pawn. But I can’t promise our world won’t be
complicated.”
“The only thing I like complicated are machines,” Tess said.
She left the receiving hall and found Jeremy waiting in the corridor.
He looked unsurprised.
“The tram station?” he asked.
“Yes. Please.”
They walked through the estate in silence. Behind them, raised voices
filtered through—Petra arguing with her parents, Sara’s dry laughter
cutting through the tension.
Jeremy led her to the main entrance and stopped.
“For what it’s worth,” he said, “I’m sorry you had to see that. House
Tertian’s motto is competence over loyalty, after all.”
“Does everyone here speak in political riddles?”
“Only when we’re being honest.” He handed her another card. “Do call
when you’re ready.”
Tess stepped out into the afternoon light.
Petra caught up with her before she reached the gates.
“Tess, wait. Please.”
Tess kept walking.
“I’m sorry.” Petra matched her pace. “I told them to leave you alone.
I told them you weren’t part of our political games. And then my father
turns the whole thing into a lesson with you in the middle of it.”
“Did you actually break the washing machine?”
“Yes! I had an awful day, and I forgot about my vibroblade.” Petra
ran a hand through her hair. “It’s just like him to turn an accident
into leverage.”
Tess stopped at the gates. “Your world is exhausting.”
“I know.”
“Every conversation has three meanings. Every offer has conditions.
Nothing is just what it appears to be.”
Petra looked away.
“And now I’m standing here with three thousand credits wondering if
it’s payment for a repair or the first move in something I don’t
understand.”
Petra was quiet for a moment. Then: “It’s both. It’s always both with
him. The work is real, the payment is real, and he’s absolutely
positioning you for something larger. That’s just how he operates.”
Tess looked back at the estate. Through the windows, Sara and Amos
were talking. No anger, just conversation. Like the entire scene had
been a business meeting, not a family argument.
Maybe it had been.
“I need to go home,” Tess said.
“Okay.” Petra didn’t follow. “But Tess? Whatever you decide about the
work… I meant what I said. You’re not a game piece. Not to me.”
Tess nodded and walked through the gates.
The tram ride back to Sector 6 felt longer than the journey up.
Tess sat in the same seat near the back, watching Sector 5 slide
past. Pristine buildings and immaculate infrastructure lined the
route—ordered lives built on systems that worked because someone made
sure they worked.
Her comm beeped when she entered back into range of the dungeon.
The credit chit was heavy in her pocket.
BEE: Communications have been restored, though you have been
silent for 23 minutes. Status update requested.
“I’m okay, Bee. Just thinking.”
BEE: About the Duke’s proposal?
“About everything.”
The tram slid into the area just outside Sector 6. Tess stepped off
and walked toward the gates. The attendant waved her through without
looking up from his datapad.
Sector 6 spread out before her. Less polished than Sector 5, but more
lived-in. The shops here had character, the people had calluses, and
nothing was as pristine.
But she could make enough money to fix it all. All she had to do was
fix broken systems for people who could afford to pay.
People who also played political games with washing machines.
BEE: Tess, your emotional indicators suggest significant
internal conflict.
“Yeah, Bee. That’s one way to put it.”
She walked through Sector 6, past Vera’s shop, toward the lift that
would take her back down to Sector 7.
Behind her, somewhere in the perfect towers of Sector 5, Duke Amos
Tertian was probably already planning his next move.
And Tess still had no idea if she wanted to be part of it.
Alex Everett becomes a Progenitor, a mythical race thought extinct, and is empowered by more than just the System. Now, if only the universe can survive him.
What to Expect: LitRPG System Apocalypse, Weak to Strong MC (sometimes OP), Smart Lead, Base Building, plenty of magic and sword fights, and No Harem. Daily chapter releases!
A Progenitor never stops growing.
FICTION PAGE
Chapter 1
