The carriage ride to Shea’s platoon was much quieter, much emptier than the one I had the displeasure of taking to the proficiency testing cavern. I told myself it was because I finished early, because everyone else was still enduring the strategy portion of their trials, but I knew in my heart of hearts that was far from true. It was practically empty because no one else was as terrible as I was, and no one else got sent away early.

Gah.

My eyes flicked around the carriage once more, taking in the people that were deemed my equals. Three other mermen sat scattered along the rough, white, driftwood benches, each making a point to keep as much distance between themselves and the other rejects as possible. Two of them were complete strangers, but the third I vaguely recognized. What was his name? Iessaí? 

Yes, that was it. He was the frail, skinny little thing with big, brown eyes that had somehow trumped me in levels despite looking like a stiff current could snap him in two.

Needing to take my mind off of my humiliating defeat, I looked out at the open sea, watching as the carriage took us through the downtown area of Neptune’s city. It was a pretty place, a place I had often visited during the unlimited free time I used to have. The buildings were mostly all stone, with seaweed strewn across them for decorations and sometimes as makeshift doors. The few taller towers we had were made of colorful, living, breathing coral, their surfaces etched in dots and interlace, bubbles coming out each time the little crustaceans took their breaths. For street lamps, we now relied on phosphorescent, blue globes that floated lazily along the streets, crafted of algae and whatever kelp emitted their own light. A few years ago we had employed anglerfish to do the job, but… they went on strike. And never returned to work.

I watched the sights pass by me, watched the markets I’d never stride through again leave my line of sight. Goodbye merchants and your overpriced wares. Goodbye shell necklaces that I could certainly make myself, goodbye vials of potent elixirs, goodbye trading card stands I frequented daily.

The carriage finally came to a halt outside a nondescript, coral-encrusted, shell fence. Through the bars, I could see what seemed to be a campground, with numerous tents set up, a pit in the center, and lots of wooden racks of weaponry. In the far distance, there was a square where the blades of not-yet-flowered seagrasses were visible. Amphipods swam about, most likely for the seahorses to consume. Hesitantly, I floated out of the vehicle, my tail curling nervously behind me, followed by the other, wordless merman. We all made our way to the tent with the sign “Shea Sonas,” and I frowned in anticipation.

This would be my new life.

I can just picture it now—stuck here, with the laziest of platoon leaders, forced to answer his every beck and call.

“Oh, Firth, go get me a glass of water!”

“Go hunt for the platoon and bring back rations for us!”

“Can you write this incident report for me while I lounge around doing absolutely nothing?”

Now I see why my parents were so frustrated with my existence. The way I'm imagining my worst-case-scenario platoon leader is the same way I actually acted with them. I’m sorry, mother and father! I’m sorry!

My lamentation was quickly thwarted by one of my new colleagues walking into the tent sans knock or announcement. As the flap was lifted, light shined inside, illuminating shelves of glass vials and potions, protractors, herb collections and a large, round table sitting in the center, surrounded by mismatched chairs. It certainly was… lived in, though I couldn’t find a bed.

“Welcome!” A warm, happy voice rang out, and I shifted my gaze to see a merman swimming toward us. He had a bright, yellow tail, the scales glinting as he moved into the light, shimmering as if they were some sort of precious metal, maybe even gold. His hair was messy, but it was clear he attempted to be presentable by the way he threw it into a ponytail. “I’m Shea, the leader of this platoon. It’s good to have you all here.”

He looked all four of us up-and-down, a small and amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. I could tell he found the group of rejects that we were rather... funny. Rude.

“I’m sure you all know why you’re here with me, so I’m not going to go into the whole spiel about needing to see serious improvement and all that. But I do expect some.” Shea began, placing his hands on his hips. “At your own pace, of course. But some nonetheless.”

He then waved his hands, and a sudden pop-up appeared in front of my face.

[New message from: Shea Sonas.]

[Access to Shea’s Player Profile Granted.]

[Access to your Player Profile Requested.]

[Accept?]

“I’m going to go ahead and share my Player Profile with you all. I know this notification is probably very new, but you don’t have to get used to it. It’s something only royals and military officials can send out.” 

For the next few minutes, Shea continued to speak about his reasons for sending such a message, musing about why, unlike most platoon leaders who simply tracked your progress, simply held onto your Player Profile without ever giving you a glimpse into theirs, he made sure the trust and transparency went both ways.

That was nice. But it didn’t really matter to me. I had hit accept, yes, but I still had no idea how to open the damn System Screen of my own free will. I looked to my left, then to my right, my eyes tracking the hand movements my colleagues were doing as they easily and swiftly sailed through their profiles. But, no matter how many times I discreetly tried to mimic their motions, nothing happened, nothing opened, and nothing worked.

“Now that you’ve all let me in and had a look at my stats, go ahead and share yours. There should be a little button in the corner, one that’s only visible when you’re chatting with a member of the Coral Guard.”

Oh, god.

How was I going to do that?

My fingers trembled as I began swinging them every which way, fumbling around and hoping that, somehow, I would magically land on the right combination. I looked like a fool, but I was desperate. And no matter what knuckle I waggled, the correct movement eluded me.

Shea seemed to notice my struggle and swam over, his smile widening into a slight grin. Hmph. My cheeks heated up at the idea that this man, known all over the kingdom for his inability to provide any worthwhile protection, was finding entertainment in me.

“Need a hand?” He asked.

“Uh… yes. I can’t seem to figure this thing out.” I admitted.

What a great first impression I was making. I’m sure my newfound leader was so proud of me.

“No worries. It’s simple,” Shea floated beside me, guiding me through the process. He pressed his two pointer fingers together, then outstretched his arms, before spreading them apart in a fluid maneuver. I echoed his gesture, watching in excited awe as my Player Profile was finally visible! I noticed it had a few tabs erecting from the side of it as well, with little icons that indicated I’d be taken to a new Screen once I clicked on them. They didn’t have a description, but guessing from the images, one was a skill tree, a store, an inventory, and… something that I wasn’t all too sure about.

As I finally shared my profile with Shea, he opened and scrutinized it for a quick moment. His brow raised slightly, and I was more than anxious about what exactly he was intrigued by. “Herbalism, huh? That’s an interesting skill for someone here to have. You interested in magic, by any chance?”

Momentarily, I hesitated. Was I allowed to be interested in magic? My father, a celebrated knight, drilled into my head day and night to avoid it like the plague. There wasn’t anything necessarily wrong with it, but it could only be achieved through one path, and that path meant you’d never be able to garner equipable legs or oxygen-breathing lungs, which meant never visiting the Overworld for missions or for pleasure.

But if the military was going to be my new life, might as well make it worthwhile.

“Yeah, I’ve always been kind of curious about it. Um, mostly because of this card game.” I said, but wished I had left that last part out. “I just… never really thought I’d be able to do it. Full disclosure, sir, I never even thought I’d be activating my Player Profile.”

Shea nodded thoughtfully, before giving me a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Interesting. That actually brings me to today’s discussion,” he turned back to the rest of the new recruits, signaling for us all to listen. “Some of you may be a high enough level to access your skill trees already, and I’m sure you’re all excited to open it up and finally choose your path. But I’m going to forbid it, at least for now. I need everyone to be patient with themselves and discover what truly speaks to them. The branch you decide to embark on is permanent, and there is nothing worse than getting stuck wishing you had taken another route.”

There were some groans from the more antsy recruits, believing this was unfair. One of the snarkier ones even spoke up.

“Sir, are you just saying all that because you regret your choice?”

I raised my brows at that. What was he referencing? What path did Shea take?

With a quick gesticulation, I opened up my profile and took a look at the one Shea had shared to me. 

[Name: Shea Sonas]

[Skill Tree Path: Draíocht]

[Level: 45]

[Combat: 35]

[Intelligence: 50]

[Stamina: 28]

[Luck: 5]

[Charm: 70]

[Active Skills: Pressure Resistance IV, Herbalism IV, Potion Making IV, Swim IV (Boosted by Tail of the Gods)]

[Passive Skills: Endurance Boost III, Adaptability III]

[Special Abilities: Tactical Genius I, Arcane Surge III, Mana Flow II, Tail of the Gods I]

[Occupation: Lieutenant, Seaspell Caster, Merfolk]

Holy mother of stacked! My Player Profile doesn’t even have half these sections yet!

All that aside, the one thing that stuck out to me the most was Shea’s path and occupation—he’s on the Draíocht route and a Seaspell Caster, which meant he was not only a magic user, but a valuable one.

The lack of luck, though, was somewhat startling. But I suppose that’s why he had a reputation for valuing math. He must’ve relied on calculations and geometry when casting his spells or crafting his potions.

Still. Seems like that could cause some issues in war. Enemies were unpredictable.

“I don’t regret my choice, not at all.” Shea replied, not reprimanding the brat for speaking out of line, much to my dismay.

“Well, you should. Magic isn’t special—all battles can be won with physical force. All that path gets you is stuck down here, underwater, forever.”

“Is that so?” With a flick of his fingers, a gentle current began to flow about the room, carrying with it tiny, glowing motes of light. They spiraled around his hands, converging in front of Shea and forming a radiant ball of energy. “Come on, then, new recruit. Spar with me.”