It was, without a doubt, a spectacular hall, but even so, it was overshadowed by the figure standing at its center.

  There are people who stand out above the rest, impossible to ignore or forget, and the one before me was one of them.

  A single man stood there, with a large, powerful body. His musculature wasn’t simply massive, but perfectly balanced and built for a single purpose: combat. His crimson hair and beard swayed like dancing flames with every swing of his gigantic sword, which he wielded as naturally as breathing. The few garments he wore consisted of military pants and boots, along with a shirt that looked on the verge of bursting under such a display of strength.

  [He’s a powerful warrior] I voiced my honest impression.

  “He is, and far more than you could imagine,” my guide said as he watched the figure with nostalgia.

  The big man stopped when he noticed the small figure of the young boy staring at him in awe.

  “Well now, you don’t see that every day. I think you’re lost, kid,” said the giant as he stopped and approached the boy.

  “I’m not lost,” the child finally reacted, standing as straight as he could. “My parents were soldiers, but they’re not here anymore… so I… I…”

  The man was taken aback by his words.

  “Then they were great heroes,” he said, giving him a few pats on the shoulder.

  “…Yes…” the boy replied.

  “So you came here wanting to follow in their footsteps, huh?” he said with renewed vigor.

  “I…” young Rob stammered.

  “All right, I suppose I can teach you a thing or two. Sounds interesting,” the man interrupted, tossing him a small wooden stick.

  The boy took the stick, somewhat confused, and looked at the man.

  “Raise your weapon and attack me, little recruit,” the man said, picking up a similar stick.

  The boy hesitated for a few moments, but finally lunged at the instructor, who sidestepped the childish strike and tripped him with his foot.

  “Good spirit, but terrible technique. Your stance is awful and your footing wasn’t stable,” the instructor said as he helped him up. “So then, are you going to continue?”

  The boy was on the verge of tears, but he swallowed them down and raised the stick once more. Seeing this, the instructor smiled and continued training him.

  After the training session ended, the boy lay flat on his back on the mat, breathing heavily from exhaustion.

  “Hah! That was a great training session. If we keep this up, you’ll stop tripping over your own legs in a week,” the instructor said, looking genuinely enthusiastic. He seemed to like Rob. “What’s your name, kid?”

  “Ah… haa… Rob,” he replied, broken up by exhaustion.

  “Rob, huh? That’s a great name. I’m Armand Sabre, but you can call me Instructor.”

  “Ah… haa… y-yes, Instructor,” little Rob barely managed to answer between deep breaths.

  “That’s the spirit. Now get up,” he said as he helped him to his feet. “Have a drink. I suppose I can’t offer you wine yet; juice will have to do.”

  He put away a bottle of liquor he had picked up and took out a glass of orange juice. Little Rob struggled to his feet and gripped the glass tightly as he began to drink slowly. Seeing that effort, the trainer smiled even more and started ruffling the boy’s hair with his large hand as he laughed. He truly took a liking to young Rob, and from the small smile I saw on the boy’s face as he drank, the feeling seemed to be mutual. Who would have thought.

  With that, the scene slowly faded away.

  [So he decided to follow in his parents’ footsteps, and it seems that along the way he found a father figure.]

  “…Kids are stupid, especially those who never knew their parents. They’ll do anything if it lets them get even a little closer to them,” Sub-Rob said as he looked away.

  Somewhat harsh words, especially considering he was, in part, talking about himself.

  The scene changed once more. This time, young Rob stood before the door labeled Shooting Training, which he crossed with determination. Once again we followed him as the place transformed into a gigantic firing range, with weapons of every caliber filling racks everywhere in perfect order. Immediately, the sound of gunfire drew all our attention toward a silhouette using the range.

  A female figure danced among simulated enemies. The weapons in her hands never stopped firing; targets exploded endlessly, as if they were drawing the bullets to themselves. Every shot found its mark without fail as the shooter moved across the field, flowing like water. The last figure fell with a hole between its brows, leaving only silence and smoke dominating the range.

  “What are you doing here, kid?” the woman said, still with her back turned, as if nothing could escape her notice.

  “I… I’m looking for the shooting instructor. Are you Lyra Trigger?” little Rob asked, somewhat nervous.

  At his question, the instructor turned around, and at last I could see her appearance. She was a rather tall woman, with long black hair cascading down her body like a waterfall, accentuating her delicate, beautiful features; an unreal beauty you’d only see in movies. But that lovely face felt somewhat cold because of her eyes, which shone with a mesmerizing, icy, piercing light. She wore a black combat suit, tight and functional, designed for ease of movement, nothing overly bulky, showing off her slender, graceful figure.

  “That’s me,” the woman replied as she examined him.

  “It’s a great honor to meet you. My name is Rob, and I—” he began nervously introducing himself.

  His explanation was cut short by an object flying toward him, which he caught in surprise. It was a… toy gun?

  “What…?” he looked at the instructor in confusion.

  “That idiot Armand already told me about you. If you’re determined to learn, I’ll train you,” she said with great confidence and assurance.

  “…Okay, but a toy gun?” young Rob asked.

  “I’m not giving you a real one, even if this is a simulation,” the instructor replied as she picked up another one just like it.

  Wow. She seemed like a sensible person.

  “You have the wrong idea. It’s not the weapon that makes the shooter, but the shooter who makes the weapon,” Instructor Lyra said as she loaded plastic ammunition. “Now try to hit me, at least once.”

  Rob nodded and raised his gun, but before he could pull the trigger, he was struck by a plastic projectile right on the forehead.

  “Too slow. You’re already dead. Next time, look for cover first,” the instructor said as she reloaded her weapon.

  Young Rob got up, rubbing his forehead. He watched her for a few moments before jumping behind a rack to hide from the attacks, though it didn’t go very well; he peeked out to aim and took another direct hit.

  “Two deaths. It’s not very smart to peek out if the enemy has already seen where you’re hiding,” she said, reloading again as she instructed him.

  Young Rob was tougher than he looked. He recovered once more and this time fired without leaving cover. He didn’t hit anything, but at least he managed to open fire.

  “Better. Try to force the enemy into cover with suppressive fire.”

  The instructor’s voice praised him for the first time, making Rob smile a little and gain some confidence; only to be hit by another round, this time from the side.

  “Three deaths. Good strategy, but you must never lose sight of the enemy, or they might flank you,” she taught him again.

  Young Rob watched her, somewhat frustrated, but even so he charged back in. They spent the rest of the session shooting at each other. The result? Rob got hit in every part of his body, while the instructor didn’t even wrinkle her clothes. And as usual, he ended up exhausted on the floor—but happy? It seemed he enjoyed the game-like practice… or getting beaten up by a beautiful woman. No, I suppose he’s still too young for that.

  “Already tired? It looks like you lack stamina. If you want, go to sleep already. You can do it while still connected to the network. You’ll disconnect a couple of minutes after your unconsciousness is detected,” the instructor advised him.

  Following her advice, the exhausted child closed his eyes, and soon his chest could be seen rising and falling calmly; he was asleep.

  The boy improved a lot with practice. She’s a good instructor, perhaps just a bit cold and strict.

  I waited for the scene to end, but surprisingly, it continued. I saw the instructor begin to approach Rob. What was happening? She knelt beside him, watched him for a moment, and then, unexpectedly, gently took his head and rested it on her lap.

  “What a child you are; you can’t just sleep on the cold floor,” she said as she slowly began to stroke his reddish hair. “You did well. I’m sure your parents would be very proud of you.” A smile bloomed on her lips, turning her face—and the moment itself—into something worthy of a painting. “The path you chose to walk with your little feet is very dangerous. I must be strict, because only that way will you make it back home safely.”

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  I could only watch such a moving scene until it finally faded away. Unfortunately, my logic wouldn’t allow me to fully enjoy it.

  [Wait a moment. If these are his memories, how could it show what happened while he was asleep? Was he just pretending? It didn’t seem like it.]

  “Who knows. Maybe it was just a sweet dream,” Sub-Rob replied as he began walking toward the next scene.

  We continued moving through Rob’s memories as he grew, though still limited to this room. As the years passed, he continued to push himself in his training with the instructors, who clearly became important pillars of his development alongside Evelyn. They went from simple toys to real weapons, then to MechFrames, until they finally reached armors.

  [How much longer will we keep watching?] I asked my guide. I had promised Rob not to see more than necessary.

  “We’re almost at where he is,” he told me curtly.

  [He?]

  Before I could ask any further, the room changed again. This time it was different. I saw a sky covered in clouds; beside me, the wind swayed the treetops lining a cobblestone path that led to a solitary hill. We were outside.

  I looked to my guide for an answer, but he only pointed toward the top of the hill and said:

  “Go. I don’t know how far you’ll be able to go, but there you’ll find the answer.”

  Hesitant, I began walking along the cobblestone path until I reached the summit, where a gigantic, solitary gravestone stood. It was a silent, peaceful place, and there I found a familiar figure.

  [You’re the real one, aren’t you, Rob?] I asked him.

  That’s right; the figure I saw was the young red-haired mechanic in his usual work clothes, sitting in front of the gravestone with a familiar photograph in his hands. It was the photograph that had appeared in his memories but that I had never been able to see. Sensing my curiosity, he merely sighed and handed it to me.

  I took the photograph in my hands, and my eyes widened in surprise when I saw a couple at their wedding. The wife was a beautiful woman, so much so that even I lost my breath. She wore a lovely white dress that contrasted beautifully with her black hair. She looked like a fairy—mystical and otherworldly—though for some reason she was holding a rifle in her hands, which somehow suited her.

  On the other hand, the husband looked a bit awkward in an elegant suit that could barely contain his perfectly trained body. His long red hair was tied back in a ponytail, in what seemed to be his best attempt to look less like a savage: an attempt that hardly succeeded, since he was holding a massive sword in one hand.

  [……]

  “I know, I know; I can’t believe they brought their weapons to the wedding either,” Rob said without turning to look at me. “It’s a long story… something about family conflicts or whatever.”

  I disconnected for a moment. Thousands of thoughts crossed my mind as I tried to process all the new information and reprocess what I already knew, until I arrived at a surprising answer that explained what was before me.

  [Project Valhalla. An initiative that was already gaining traction in my era. It consisted of creating digital copies of great warriors so they could continue training and passing on their wisdom to new generations, even after the originals were gone.]

  “……” Rob remained silent.

  [Rob?]

  Unable to keep ignoring me, he let out another long sigh and turned toward me. “What do you want me to say?” he said, his voice somewhat strained. “That I’m just a poor orphan raised by a woman who was more than perfect, but who still missed his parents so much that he searched for any way to get closer to them? That when I found out they had left copies of themselves in the system, I couldn’t bear not to see them? That just to be with them a little, I devoted every moment of my free time to training, but never had the courage to present myself and call them ‘parents’?” Rob let it all out. I suppose that, after what I had seen, there was no point in hiding anything anymore.

  [Why didn’t you become a pilot, Rob? You clearly had the training and the talent.]

  “Talent? My parents had talent. Two of the best pilots in the kingdom. Both wielders of powerful Sovereignties, including a joint one; and even so, they never came back. What could be expected of me, someone who could never beat them? Someone who, no matter how hard he tried, couldn’t develop a Sovereignty?” he replied, laying his pain bare.

  […Then why do you keep going?]

  The question silenced him for a moment as he pondered it. I suppose he had never asked himself that before.

  “…Because I’m still the kid who listened to stories about his parents and wanted to be a hero like them, to defeat the bad guys and save the day,” he sighed again. “Ironic, right? After how much I teased Alex for his childish heroics, deep down I always wanted to act the same way.”

  [Do you really think you haven’t?]

  “Do you think I have?” Rob asked me. “Let me remind you that outside I’m battered and bleeding, about to be finished off. That’s what happens when someone ordinary like me tries to be a hero.”

  [You’re scared.]

  “Of course I am. I always have been. But I’ve tried to face it the way Dad would: with courage and laughter, with humor and good plans to give myself confidence, to push myself forward. But that’s not enough. I can’t even save myself; so how am I supposed to save others?” he said, lowering his head.

  [But you saved Alex.]

  I saw his body tremble slightly at my words, but he didn’t look up.

  [And Mir, and the Seeker’s crew; and me] I continued as I stepped closer. [You saved me. You found me. Say whatever you want, but no one else could have accomplished what you did. It wasn’t your parents, it wasn’t some great hero; it was an eccentric mechanic who refused to give up.”

  His body shook again, just a little.

  I held out my hand.

  [And that’s who we need. Not the son of heroes; just Rob.]

  His expression cleared instantly, all that negativity dissipating. He lifted his head, took my hand firmly, and the landscape began to dissolve into a white light.

  [Because you’re already our hero.]

  ***

  I opened my eyes back on the battlefield, a smile on my lips. It seemed the connection with the Princess had worked.

  “So, a hero, huh? I guess I can try a little harder.”

  I could feel that everything was different now; that I no longer saw as I had before. Before my eyes unfolded a completely new world, a silent world that had always been there, but to which I’d never had access.

  My mind drifted through that immense flow. I saw a leaf slowly falling from a tree; before me spread several paths, possible routes it was destined to follow downward. A light breeze nudged it slightly, and all the paths changed, but even so, I could see its destination clearly: it would land gently on the ground in 3.021 seconds. How fascinating!

  I decided to bring my armor to its feet. The moment it moved even slightly, I could sense at least forty-three minor malfunctions. Nothing serious, but how curious! The G75 bolt on the right limb was half a micrometer shorter than it should be. Had everything always been this interesting?

  I saw figures approaching me; large, fast, and angry.

  A massive figure leapt toward me, raising its sharp claws. All of its paths were the same; rather boring. It seemed that if I didn’t move, it would tear my head off. Well, that’s dangerous.

  I took a spear from my storage and stepped back half a step. I tilted my waist forty-two degrees. I watched the claws continue along their path and pass calmly beside me. I placed the spear in the enemy’s path, and without pauses or surprises, it pierced straight through its throat, leaving it impaled.

  I was left with only questions: Why did it jump? Didn’t it understand that this move would lead it straight onto my spear? Well, to be fair, I hadn’t drawn it yet; but it had been obvious for 1.5 milliseconds that this would happen.

  Could it be some kind of trap? Was it pretending to be an idiot to distract me or make me lower my guard? Were they trying to ambush me?

  I turned my attention to the rest of the attackers closing in. A large, powerful armor was charging like a raging bull, raising its huge axe. Aha, that must be the real attack. I prepared at once. The paths reappeared, connecting its weapon to my chest. Well, that would split me in half with a single blow. The axe began to descend with extraordinary force, enough to cleave mountains apart.

  I remained standing, waiting for his real attack. I waited, and waited, and waited, but nothing happened. The axe kept coming closer at high speed.

  Come on, where’s the trap? I heightened my focus even further until I finally gave up.

  “Is this really your attack?” I sighed, confused and disappointed.

  The arm of my armor released the fist it had been preparing for some time. A fast, precise strike to the joint of its elbow made the path disappear and a new one form. The blade passed to the side as its arms broke apart, since all the energy of that blow went out of control, and his careless stance did not allow it to correct his movement, causing it to end up, metaphorically, shooting itself in the foot.

  Its axe slipped free from its hands and began to fall naturally toward my palm, which had been waiting for it for quite a while. I caught it and returned it to it, severing one of its feet, which finally made it collapse, rolling miserably across the ground.

  I stood there, watching my enemies. Two lay at my sides, completely incapacitated, while the other three stopped at a distance.

  “But what’s wrong with them? Are they idiots?” My armor and I scratched our heads, confused.

  It seemed the remaining three took my doubt as some sort of provocation, because they quickly snapped out of their stupor and charged again.

  They came at me all at once: a sword to my right, a heavy blow to my left, and from behind, an energy weapon was charging to its maximum to pierce straight through me. A vast number of paths unfolded before me in an instant, overwhelming me and leaving me stunned. Sensing my hesitation, the creatures only grew more motivated and accelerated, clearly unwilling to waste such an opportunity.

  The truth was, I really was overwhelmed. There were so many possible actions that I didn’t know which one to choose, from the simplest to some far more complex ones.

  Ah, to hell with it, I’ll try!

  I retreated slightly with my thruster, and they immediately followed, unwilling to let me escape. The one with the sword moved ahead first, trying to cut off my path; or cut me down.

  This will do. I dodged, sliding beneath the slash as it continued on its path and split my spear, freeing the companion I had skewered. Even so, it wasn’t completely free, since my arm clamped down on its calf.

  Without giving me time to breathe, the walking wrecking ball—the sturdiest of them—took advantage of my low posture to raise its massive hands over its head and bring them down in an attempt to crush me like an insect, while the armor with the energy weapon loomed over us. It seemed the supercharged projectile it had been preparing was already ready.

  Wow, it’s as if all their paths are converging on me. Fine, let’s see if I can pull off this miracle. With a single yank on its calf, I dragged the newly freed armor toward me and kicked the knees of the heavy one with all my strength, causing its legs to buckle and its fists to fall like twin hammers onto the armor I had placed beside me. Without even understanding what had happened, it took a blow so powerful that its rib cage caved in and filled with fractures, leaving it half-buried in the ground.

  I sprang up in one leap and grabbed the barrel of the weapon, which make it froze for an instant in shock. Good, it’s almost ready. There are only two paths ahead now, and depending on which one this golden armor chooses, the outcome will be decided. At last, it came to its senses, and its almost instinctive reaction was to pull the trigger. What a bad choice! The hypercharged projectile shot out and slammed into the already fractured chest of the unfortunate armor on the ground, which could not withstand such power and finally gave way, leaving a terrifying, scorching hole where the cockpit had once been.

  Slowly, it began to turn into golden ashes, carried away by the wind amid the stunned companions who could do nothing to stop the predictable outcome. Even I was surprised at how easy it was, as I played with the golden breeze.

  Carried along by the mood of such a poetic moment, my mind wandered to a conversation I had had with the instructor a couple of years earlier, after a training session.

  “Hey, Instructor, what did you feel the first time you used your Sovereignty? Did you feel powerful? Happy? Excited?”

  “The first time I deployed my Sovereignty? Wow, that brings back memories. But none of that. Surprisingly, I felt confused,” he said as he lowered his glass for a moment.

  “Confused?”

  “Yes. I awakened it in the middle of a life-or-death battle, and I remember feeling an immense sense of confusion, because the enemies who, just moments earlier, had nearly killed me suddenly felt so… insignificant. Their lives belonged to me, and I could take them whenever I wished. We were simply no longer on the same level. I had reached a higher plane they could not match.”

  “Wow, I know it’s something incredible, but don’t you think that’s an exaggeration?” I remember not being very convinced.

  “Bwahahaha! Kid, you still have a lot to learn. You’ll understand one day, when you experience it for yourself,” he said, ruffling my hair.

  “Who knows if that moment will ever come…”

  Wow, such memories. But it seems I finally understand now.

  Yes, what should I name it? It has to be something incredible, something that shows all the potential it holds.

  I turned toward my enemies, surrounded by golden particles of what had once been their companion.

  “Gentlemen, I welcome you to my Sovereignty: Infinite Alternatives,” I said as I opened my right arm. I took a moment and opened my left arm as well. “And at the same time, I bid you farewell, because there is no possibility that you will leave this place alive.”

  If you have some time, I invite you to check it out. I’m sharing lore content, fun facts, character interactions with a touch of humor, and some designs.