"Hmmm… how did I survive?"
At the sound of a crackling campfire, Adam started thinking back on how he, a wuss, had embarked on this journey.
"I just did. The first day, I was totally asleep like a baby—no, not like a baby. Babies wake up every ten minutes, from what I've heard. I slept like an old man in a nursery where everyone keeps checking whether he has died in his sleep or not. Painting Captain Creed took its toll, you see.
When I woke up, it was like those movies where characters wake up in a hospital after a zombie outbreak. People in my building fortified the place. I took a look at the street: utter chaos. Inside the building, old and young people were sticking kitchen knives on mop sticks, nails on bats, book armor, guns, everything you can think of. You can say I spawned on easy settings.
The first day passed; on the second day, people started to worry about food. Capitalism was dead, all hail Mommy Communism. As for me, I made myself useful to the people in charge: I can cook, I can set up cameras, and I can do a lot of technical stuff. They made me the food guy. That didn't last until the end of the first week, though.
The military arrived, and with them, everyone was evacuated from the building to a refugee camp outside the city. I said we should have stayed until we heard real news about the army taking the city back from the monsters. Turns out I was right, and we were attacked."
"Monsters?"
"People," Adam replied. "The military was lying. Civilization really did fall in every part of the globe. Anything military now has a big target on its ass; raiders wanted weapons and military-grade gear. I grabbed that old gun and ran that day. Still, they found me."
"The raiders?"
"Yes."
"You survived that; how?"
"Pretended to be a raider."
"They bought it?"
"Nope, but they didn't mind it. They were in the business of recruiting, and I looked like a smart guy to them. Once I met their big boss, I proved myself useful again. I can cook, and I can fix electronics. I assembled him a fucking ham radio, and he was over the moon."
"That's a pun, right? Ham and radio?"
"He said the same. Ham sandwich, ham radio, he was in love with me, called me his second son, the fat fuck. You see, cooking is easy, but electronics are not. However, once you get to the electronics part, you can easily convince them that you can cook. If they trust you and make you their cook, you are not simply trusted or respected; they actually start listening to you."
"…"
"A week later, some guy killed the boss and became the new boss. The group started to fracture quickly, and eventually, a group wanted to leave and join the refugee camp. I jumped ship, and that concluded month number one. Months two and three were mostly the same thing; I stayed in the refugee camp for a while, but I hated it there. You can't easily become a cook. I am good but not great, and in a big kitchen like the camp's, there is structure, meaning you can't be the main man right away. I changed my plan."
"Electronics?"
"For a while, there were better guys as well. You see, it is better to be the head on a dog than the ass on a lion. So, once I found out that they were forming groups to scavenge, I jumped ship again."
"You left the camp to scavenge… away from safety?"
"Safety?"
"…"
"The camp was a complete jungle. After the military left, those with guns were in charge. There were about ten factions crammed into one area, and I smelled trouble no matter where I went.
Out in the wild, only the people in charge were able to make rules. I am the food and electronics guy; another is the medic; another is the ex-military; another is his girlfriend, who happens to be a good driver; and the other guys were good fighters as well. In a group where you are needed, even if they don't like you or keep talking shit to you, you are still safe. As soon as there is a replacement for you and your position is threatened, jump the fucking ship.
Two groups later, I met a guy named Victor at the camp. He had a good head on his shoulders, but he acted all cocky. In our first run, we ran into a group of Gobzkins. What I couldn't believe was him actually thinking of eating them."
"Aren't those like Goblins?"
"Yep. They look nasty, smell nasty, but they have a variety of sizes. With their numbers, you could as well eat them; they eat us, and they eat each other."
"What if you eat a Gobzkin that ate a human?"
"Thankfully, we didn't reach that far in discussion, but I was starting to lean toward his side. We were attacked, everybody died, and the last to survive was little old me.
Somehow, your boy was blessed with the power to summon a Star Paladin."
Adam, predictably, still prefers the long versions. Kave was relieved that this hadn't changed, even though other aspects of Adam had. It's as if he recognizes him, but there's a difference between the person he knows and how he last hung out with him. Still, seeing him work on the miniatures made Kave feel more assured that this is still the friend he knows.
Adam seemed to be cutting the miniature parts from the sprue that held all the small pieces together and laying them down on a blanket. He put them very neatly, identifying each part and setting them into groups for each Man-at-Arms. He even distributed the weapons, the special bits like radio gear, special pose pieces, the heads, and the unique leader gear.
On the other side, he laid his tools. Some were makeshift, like the cutter-stick and the sanding stick, which was a combination of sanding paper and a stick holding the paper on it for better control.
As all the parts were off the sprue, he started sanding the rough parts and tweaking what seemed bad with the original molding. He then started putting the pieces together to avoid mistakes, as he was being completely thorough.
The correct order for miniature assembly is always from the core. While it is very tricky to find in larger miniatures, like the Star Paladins, Men-at-Arms are beginner-friendly, so he made it from torso, legs, arms, and heads, all the way to accessories.
This was all by the book, and so far so good. Now comes the unorthodox part. He had no glue, an insanely rare commodity in the apocalypse. He was lucky to find duct tape, an even rarer commodity. However, as tape was far from ideal for miniature building, Adam started scraping the adhesive with his knife—a very tedious task.
With enough duct tape adhesive, he was now ready to put the plastic pieces together and make his very first plastic squad.
"Ready?" Adam asked, looking at Kave, who was assisting minimally.
Adam kept the sharp tools and the firearms he looted from the raiders away from him. Still, Kave was holding up well with his occasional small chats with Adam.
"I'll hold the pieces."
"Alright, very lightly, keep a steady hand, and don't get too close to the fire."
Adam then started applying the glue, and Kave held it still. The two entered a state of focus and synergy where they were communicating with just their motions as two experts in the hobby.
The first Man-at-Arms was finished, then the second, then the third—all the way to the ninth miniature.
Each miniature should be given time for its glue to cure. Returning to the first miniature, Adam and Kave had their first debate about this whole project.
"Your ability's description you told me… it is very vague."
"But I think it is simple: better quality, better summon."
"Yes, I get that. I meant the utility of the summon itself. For example, should we fix the miniature to a base or just do it without one?"
"Hmm… Well, I don't think that is a problem because Creed's miniature had its base on."
"Alright. But if I remember correctly, you used ungodly expensive materials with Creed and poured your heart and soul into it. We're just speed running these, so it may not be as good as you think."
"We'll paint them, and it will be fine. I am more worried about how I activate that power, though."
"I am worried about what's after it. Can you cancel that power? Like… can you unsummon these familiars?"
"Oh! Didn't think of that."
"Well, this is important. We need to conduct an experiment. Take the first Man-at-Arms we made and summon him."
"After painting."
"You said the higher the quality, the harder they are to control. Use quality control for easier practice, is what I'm saying."
"Alright."
While still a massive geek, Adam wasn't into the rules as much as the rest of the play group. He was more of a maker of miniatures and a heretical homebrewer. He couldn't GM and didn't care about it, but he saved the group many times with his chaotic play style and homebrew shenanigans. Some of his builds focused on modifying the miniatures, changing their parts with totally bizarre elements, and being a good Chaosader (traitor Paladins).
So when Kave suggested experimenting with the miniatures, Adam started to think of the result of his power, but he was more concerned with how to make it work.
He remembered how the Gobzkin Shaman did it. Chant, throw, and let it grow. He doesn't recall how Captain Creed was summoned, but it seemed that the process was a bit different. Still, he had to stick to what he knew.
He took the first miniature that was glued to its base and then held it in his hand. He went away a few paces from the workplace and knelt on one knee. Kave was behind him, watching from a distance and waiting in anticipation.
Adam brought the miniature near his mouth and whispered.
"Alright, buddy, please grow into a good quality Man-at-Arms. For the Solarium!"
Adam said and put the miniature carefully on the ground before backing away. He waited for a while, and…
"Nothing," Kave said.
"Yes, disappointing, but we can't be disheartened by the first try." Adam kept a positive spirit and approached the miniature again. "Still, there must be something."
Kave also got next to him and started thinking.
"You said your class is a Sorcerer."
"Yep."
"What does a Sorcerer do?"
"Cast spells."
"I mean in the System."
"Ah… It only gave me a class power—Font of Magic."
"The one about feeling the magic within runes, right?"
"Yes."
"Good. Start from there. You felt something from that cloak, right?"
"Oh! That extra sense. True."
"Do it again. This time on yourself."
Adam closed his eyes and tried to feel something within himself. He focused intently and felt his mind delving into a place he'd never felt in his head before… there, that new feeling started visiting him again, but he needed to really focus on this one.
His mind wasn't strong enough; it almost felt like slipping, and the more he forced it, the harder it became.
"I think… I found something…"
"Alright. Use it…"
"F… Fuck!" Adam opened his eyes once again, feeling lightheaded as he fell on his ass. "I've never felt using my brain was that hard before."
Kave frowned for a while and nodded.
"It has something to do with your mental power, then. Does the system say anything about that?"
Adam remembered what the system said and nodded:
"The Psyche skill… There is the Sanity skill, too."
"No description for them?" Kave asked.
"None," Adam shook his head.
"Then it is as simple as we think. Psyche is your mental power—how far you can push that Sorcerer power of yours. Sanity is about mind endurance, so maybe that's what it is."
"Like Esper powers!"
"Exactly. So focus, don't slip, and don't force it… I guess. Like trying to remember something too hard usually doesn't work, but redoing some routine or any related action can bring back the memory."
Adam saw the sense in Kave's words.
"Crazy and sane look good together on you, bro," Adam said.
"That was always my brand," Kave said as he, too, sat back. "Just hurry before Creed gets back. I think he is running out of patience with us."
Adam nodded, realizing that he had a task at hand.
Focusing his mind, sharpening his senses, and trying to find a memory of him being in intense focus.
That wasn't a hard one… gluing the miniatures was a moment of brutal focus. Fighting for dear life also provided moments of pure focus. The days he kept himself alive in the early days of the apocalypse were filled with moments of pure focus.
He fixed his state of mind, ignored the noise, and put himself on a battlefield in his mind. He knew that he must reach his objective and achieve his goal; nothing could stop him.
His drive, his desire, his obsession, but most of all, his ambition.
Power—that's what he lacked. He wasn't a good shooter or a fighter; he was a thinker. He needed to make the right decision at the right time.
Determination.
Willpower.
Focus.
And most of all, the desire to live and survive.
At this point, he knew the right memory to dig. Unlike the Gobzkin Shaman, he didn't need recitation or prayer; he needed that very same fire he used to fight against the odds, kill the shaman, and crawl while injured to his club.
That's it… That's the moment of intense focus.
He found it, he remembered it, and he found the Rune.
Deep within him, it whispered a portion of its power, and Adam opened his eyes, now glowing with an arcane light.
He looked at the miniature, and one word was needed to do the deed.
"Arise!"