Guardians of the Unknowing

by Eretein

I died and got inducted into the Guardians: an organization of Gamers tasked to protect the multiverse. Fresh-faced and thrust into the heart of crisis, with an infinity war threatening all of existence, cosmic horrors lurking in shadowy places, a mysterious huntress who somehow broke time, and me having to live life (again) as a bumbling blond dork—what could possibly go wrong?

1. Day 1 (Pilot)

Day 1 (Or the Pilot, With a Capital P)

"The delightful and ever-novel pleasure of a useless occupation."

— Henri de Régnier, Earth C-137

---

A guardian's life began with death—short, simple, and nothing more.

Or, at least, what the damn Guide kept trying to tell me—in its robotic, monotone, and utterly lifeless voice—as I ghosted into the forty-seventh guy's bedroom.

"No, I'm, like, not answering a literal call to adventure," I said, crossing my arms—two slender limbs of misty, wispy, and billowy white smoke. "Go find another gal to bother."

"Eirynn Elizabeth Palustein of Earth Z-137, you cannot refuse the call of the cosmos—"

"What cosmos?" I said, arching an eyebrow. "I'd let it sit on voicemail, but I'm currently—"

"Status Effect: Dead. And it is Cosmos, with a capital C."

"Helpful." I poked the blond guy. My finger went through his noodly arm. "Is this really supposed to be my afterlife?"

If it were, then it was a pretty shitty one. An eternity of existence as a ghost, haunted by a disembodied voice calling itself the Guide—with a capital G. Oh, the thick irony. Did I really just, like, Casper the Friendly Ghost myself? As a damned ghost? What the hell did I do in my life so terrible I deserve this?

"No, it is not. Palustein—"

"Eirynn. Eir if you prefer. Never Elizabeth or Palustein."

"Eirynn. The Cosmos calls upon you to take up the mantle of a guardian. And it is Guardian—with a capital G."

"What even is a Guardian—with a capital G?"

"Guardians are the guardians who guard."

I rolled my eyes. "Riveting exposition, Captain Dictionary. You sure are helpful, aren't you?"

"Thank you. The latest patches to my algorithm seem to be of great use."

"Tell your programmer to tune your algorithm for sarcasm," I said, placing a hand on my hip. Whoa. It just went through my thick, blood-red mane. "And give you an actual voice. Like, you know, paralanguage?"

"I will file quote paralanguage unquote away for future reference. Thank you for the feedback. But your quote sarcasm unquote cannot distract me from my purpose."

"Never expected it to," I replied, landing on the bed. Huh. Odd. My feet didn't go through. "You might as well get some chimichangas, 'cuz I'm not going anywhere."

"Tell me, Eirynn. What makes your heart beat?"

"What the fuck?" I said. How'd it make the herculean leap to that topic?

"There is nothing that a Guardian cannot attain. Money, power, influence, friendship..."

I shivered, the Guide hanging off my back like a wet jacket.

"Love."

"I don't believe in love," I said, poking the guy's nose. And of course, it went right through. "What people call love"—I wagged my fingers into air-quotes—"is nothing but a chemical reaction that compels animals to breed."

"Perhaps a grand, never-ending adventure then?"

"Adventures need heroes," I whispered, my gut clenching. "Not me."

"Guardians are not required to become heroes, although there are numerous in their ranks."

"Like who? Batman?"

"No."

"Superman?"

"No."

"Spider-Man?"

"No."

"You don't like DC or Marvel, do you?"

"Your time runs short, Eirynn. Claim the shell of Jaune Arc of Remnant A-420 as your own. Only then can your life as a Guardian begin."

I raised an eyebrow, glancing at the three other beds in the room. I'd seen this before on my brother's laptop—one of the shows he'd always been obsessed with and practically roped me into watching. "Jaune Arc? Remnant? You mean we're in that web show? The one CBR shills pretty hard for?"

"We are in universe A-420, on the planet of Remnant. We are not in a quote web show unquote. Furthermore, I do not know of this quote CBR unquote that you speak of."

"What's going to happen to Jaune?"

"He will die. A Guardian's life always begins with death. Short, simple, and nothing more as your soul displaces his, your will enforces itself upon the multiverse, and the Cosmos bequeaths you with its power."

Okay. Like, there's no way this is real. I must be dreaming everything. It's just a sad, taco-fuelled nightmare. Any moment now, I'd wake up on the couch, laugh the Guide and its Guardian bullshit off, and then go on with the rest of my life pretending none of this pseudo-lucid dream schtick ever happened.

"You are not dreaming. You are dead and this is real."

I plopped down on the bed just as Jaune turned over, his head going through my skirted crotch. Weird. Possibly gross. "Oh yeah? How'd I die then?"

"A botched burglary, which—"

"Alright," I said, heaving a sigh. Pathetic. No way I was looking forward to that particular conversation. "This is real then."

"Yes."

"But I'm not killing Jaune or anyone. Forget it. Can't I just die?"

"No."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because a Guardian's soul is severed from the cycle of life and death, to better perform their duties. You have nowhere to go, Eirynn. There is only one way forward—one way out. You must claim your existence. A Guardian's life begins with death—short, simple, and nothing more."

I hummed. "Nope. I'm still open to the chimichangas, though."

"Stubborn, are you not? Very well then. You will quote change your tune unquote soon enough."

"Is that supposed to be a threat?" I said, my voice climbing. "Like, I've heard better from my parents."

"No. It is a fact, not a threat. You are not the first would-be Guardian to resist the call—and you are not the last."

I chuckled. "But maybe I'll be the first to let it sit in voicemail."

"I think not. They are coming. Make your choice now, Eirynn."

My teeth clattered, a cold like winter encasing my spine.

What?

Black smoke flitted between the walls and the windows and coalesced into masked wraiths—like rip-offs from Barry Trotter. The wraiths circled around the room, even as I crossed my arms over my breasts. Heat. I needed heat. But their very presence sucked the heat from my bones. They shrieked, the inhuman sound daggers stabbing my head.

"What are they?" I said, my back pressing into the wall. "Guide?"

A wraith lunged, serrated claws extended. Its crimson eyes burned behind a bone-white mask.

I stepped to the side.

It grazed my arm.

Shit!

"Cold! Cold! Cold!" I patted my forearm, specks of ice falling off my coat.

"If you fall to the corruption now, you will be erased from existence. And it is Corruption—with a capital C."

The wraiths stilled. They stared at the corner where the Guide's voice came from.

They snarled, shrieking as they lanced through the room and cut a swath towards the Guide.

"Jaune Arc will live on in the cycle of life and death. But not you."

Jaune Arc snored on, his eyebrows creased into a tight line. What's he dreaming about? Is he dreaming about the scene in his dorm room? Can he even see us? Is any of this even fucking real—or did I lose my marbles last night?

"Real shit?" I said, bending towards Jaune. "So he's, like, not dying at all?"

"He will die. But he will live on."

The wraith sliced through the Guide's spot.

Static buzzed.

"Like an isekai, right?" I said. My brother loved watching those. Maybe Jaune could even get his own harem—like in some Jaune-fics my brother drooled over like a dog. "So, how do I do this?"

"Enter him."

Static.

"Gross!" I cupped the blond's face. Somehow, his soft cheeks were solid. Hard. I could touch them. "This isn't a low-budget porno, is it?"

"No, this is not a quote low-budget porno—"

Static.

Shriek—the Guide's presence fizzled.

Fuck.

"Come on, come on, come on!"

I poked Jaune's stupid face. One. Two. And three times.

It better not be sealed with a damn kiss—

Lightning flashed.

Static drowned the world.

---

Welcome, Guardian.

I groaned, rubbing my forehead. Did someone get the number on the cab?

I am the Cosmos. The System. The Will of Existence. With capitals, bold, and centred alignment, of course.

Blackness as far as my eyes could see—almost like I was floating in an invisible ocean, the cool waves lapping against my skin.

Did I really manage to die twice in one day?

Only the legendary EEP could do that. Yes—introducing the one and only Eirynn Elizabeth Palustein. EEPing her way into trouble again.

Nice.

You will now undergo the Inscribing—with a capital I—as the Guardians before and after you have.

Seriously? What is it about disembodied voices and pretentious, poorly-written capitalization?

It is not pretentious and it is not poorly-written. It simply is, Guardian. Do not think too hard about it.

I shrugged. "Jaune's alright, isn't he?"

Jaune Arc of Remnant A-420 has been relocated to Remnant A-404, where he will continue living his life as if nothing happened, unaware of the events happening in the cosmic plane of Existence—with a capital E. It will be as if you never replaced him at all.

"Is that so?" I quirked an eyebrow. "Like, why was the whole killing bit necessary?"

A test, Guardian Eirynn. The first of many to come.

My eyes narrowed, a familiar fire licking my stomach. "What the hell? You're telling me I went through all that for nothing?"

Not for nothing. All tests are their own virtue, Guardian Eirynn. We must all take what virtues we can in our war against the enemy.

"War? The enemy?"

The monsters who assailed you and your Guide. But do not concern yourself with the Incursions—all with capital I's—for now. Your Inscribing awaits.

Runes sparked, tinkling in the blackness. They floated above and fluttered like fireflies.

Bear which burden, Guardian? Will you bear the burden of resolve? Of truth? Of sacrifice? Of affection?

"Am I supposed to take them literally?"

We must all bear our burdens. Even those we wish to discard.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head. I stifled a big, fat yawn. "Very helpful, Cosmos—with a capital C."

Thank you, Guardian Eirynn.

Okay. I should think about it more, but there was no knowing what the choices represented. For all I knew, they could have no connection to whatever it was they were supposed to represent.

Let me see... I liked the sound of truth the most. I'd probably pick what I liked most, anyway.

I will ask once more. Bear which burden, Guardian? Will you bear the burden of resolve? Of truth? Of sacrifice? Of affection?

"Truth."

But oftentimes, ignorance is bliss. Walk which path, Guardian? Will you walk the path of beliefs? Of freedom? Of wealth? Of power?

"Freedom."

Free as the wind—follow her wherever she goes, but watch your back. Design which plan, Guardian? Will you design strife? Wisdom? Hatred? Love?

"Wisdom."

Ah, the path of the sage. A seeker of the scholarly arts, are you not? Swear which oath, Guardian? Will you swear the oath of justice? Of revenge? Of victory? Of forgiveness?

"Victory."

Ambitious, are you not? Pursue not both love and ambition—lest you lose both. Share which vision, Guardian? Will you share sadness? Mercy? Joy? Terror?

"Joy."

Laughter lightens the heavy load, just as many hands do. Shape which future, Guardian? Will you shape glory? Peace? Change? Control?

"Change."

Change—she who is constant. Accept which boon, Guardian? Will you accept a magical elixir? A mystical weapon? A perfect spouse—

I snorted, giggling even as the runes sparked. "Sorry, please continue."

A perfect spouse? A majestic, otherworldly steed?

"A mystical weapon."

To smite your foes, I presume. But keep in mind that not all foes fall to the sword or the staff. Treasure which virtue, Guardian? Will you treasure might? Wit? Beauty? Fortune?

"Wit."

Decisive choices, as befitting of a true Guardian. Very well. Your Inscribing is complete. Welcome to the Guardians, Eirynn Elizabeth Palustein. I will leave you to your Guide's tender hands.

The runes fizzled into blackness.

A screen popped up. An honest-to-goodness digital screen the size of a tablet. Blue like the ones in my sister's video games.

Name: Eirynn Elizabeth Palustein

Title(s): —

Level: 11

Class: Mage

Inclination(s): —

Elemental Affinity: Wind

Bond Affinity: —

Artificial Affinity: —

Race: Guardian (Human)

Alignment: True Neutral

HP: 312

MP: 1,085

STR: 12.3

CON: 4.4

DEX: 20.1

INT: 30.3

WIS: 21.2

CHA: 24.4

LUK: 13.13

Attribute Point(s): 0

Status Effect(s): Blessing of Aura (Locked)

Personal Skill(s): Arbitration {A} Noblesse (False) {A}, Observe {D}, Guardian's Mind {EX}, Guardian's Body {EX}, Guardian's Soul {EX}

Unique Skill(s): Limit Break: {?} {EX}, Semblance: {?} {?}

Combat Skill(s): Footwork {C}, Magical Proficiency {C}, Melee Proficiency {D}, Ranged Proficiency {D}, Unarmed Proficiency {D}

Spell(s): Arcane Bolt {F}, Enchant {F}, Telekinesis {F}

Interesting. So this was how the System quantified me, myself, and I? For a fresh-specced Mage, it looked pretty normal, considering what I did before. Well, aside from the two question marks—Limit Break and Semblance—which were probably skills I had to discover on my own.

My LUK could bite me in the ass later though—and my squishy-as-fuck CON. I mean, seriously? Thirteen-point-thirteen? Wasn't that being a little bit on the nose? I'd been dragged into enough table tops to know where this was going.

For being meta about your bad LUK, you have earned 1 WIS. For taking note of your squishy-as-fuck CON, you have earned 1 INT.

Gee. Thanks, Cosmos.

Unique Skills and Combat Skills seemed pretty self-explanatory, but what exactly were Personal Skills—specifically, the Guardian's Mind, Body, and Soul? That sounded too much like marriage, didn't it? Am I married to my new job now, Guardian EEP?

Guardian EEP.

That better not appear as a title later. I already got enough of Princess EEP from my friends—well, old friends.

"Personal skills are passive or active skills—"

"Eep!"

"—that a Guardian generally uses outside of combat, with certain notable exceptions. Although the formal definition is more technical."

Swear. I didn't just eep and jump on my feet.

"Guide?" I said, swiping at the darkness. "Holy shit, you're alive?"

"Yes. It is I. The Guide—with a capital G."

"As you've said, like, seven times or something. I lost count. Now what?"

"You wake up."

Static.

I flinched and covered my eyes.

Great. Is this going to turn into a routine?

---

"Ugh..."

I stretched my arms way above my head, my joints popping as I breathed a long, drawn-out yawn. The sheets were a little too warm for my place—as well as my crotch. My eyes snapped open, darting to the hard, throbbing pole stuck between my thighs.

Oh shit.

I had a dick now.

I had a dick now!

I had a fucking dick now!

Panting, I ran my hands over the blond's onesie—who in the blue hell wore a onesie—and brushed the one thing most people never saw in Japanese pornos.

I sprang to my feet and almost tripped over a guitar. The thing between my legs was heavy for a piece of meat. How the hell did guys live with a penis? And how the hell was a girl supposed to live without boobs?

I yelped and scrambled into the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

Toilet. There. Don't look.

I closed my eyes, holding out the hard thing. The sound of piss sliding down marble filled my ears. Phew. At least the actual peeing didn't change. It was an odd thing to take comfort in—but I'll take it.

When I was done, I took a moment to glance at the mirror. Blonde. Messy fringe. Blue eyes. Scraggly. No beard. Possibly an average seven-out-of-ten, if my sister—the flirtatious, royal-pain-in-the-ass brunette bimbo—was here instead of me.

"At least I'm not a Martian or something," I muttered, splashing the grit from my eyes. The cool water dripped down my cheeks. "Look on the bright side, princess."

Chuckling, I pulled the onesie up, shoving the thing deep, deep inside. Hopefully, it'd be a while until I needed to take a piss again.

And I sounded different too. Like one of those wimpy, high-pitched pretty boys in anime.

I sighed, nudging the door open.

Green eyes blinked.

"Jaune?" Pyrrha Nikos—if I remembered correctly—whispered. She wore a smile, her red waves tussled into bedhead. "Good morning, partner."

"Hi, Pyr," I said, grinning as I poked her taut shoulder. What did I always say to my female cousins again? Oh, yeah. "Looking beautiful today, aren't you?"

Pyrrha fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, her cheeks glowing scarlet. The smile on her chapped lips could have dazzled a blind man. "Th—thank you, Jaune. You're not looking bad yourself."

My eyes trailed down her red shirt—complete with Pumpkin Pete patch—and used Observe on the slopes of her cleavage.

The Invincible Mammary Glands

Black Lace

C Cup

What the hell?

I blinked and shook my head. No fucking way I was checking her out with Observe. I was probably just jealous—or more like insecure of my double A-cup. "So, you're going to use the toilet?"

"Ah, yes!" Pyrrha slipped past me and shut the door. "I'm sorry!"

Well, that was apparently Pyrrha Nikos. From what I remembered, she was the four-time winner of some sort of gladiatorial tournament—a fighting gal complete with pretentious title. Invincible Girl, really? Might as well call her Wonder Woman and do a crossover.

I plopped down on Jaune's bed and lowered my voice to a whisper. "Guide?"

"You called, Guardian Eirynn?"

I don't need to speak to talk to you, do I?

"Not necessarily. All Guardians are linked to their respective Guides."

Well, that's useful. You're not the only Guide then?

"No. As there are infinite Guardians scattered across the multiverse, there must be infinite Guides—all with capital G's—to guide them."

Obviously, Captain Dictionary. Isn't there supposed to be a Tutorial—with a capital T—on this video-game-like system?

For anticipating the Tutorial—with a capital T—you have earned 1 WIS.

Would you like to start the Tutorial?

---

"By Tutorial, I didn't know you meant this!"

I shifted and dodged the skeleton's blade, my feet moving on their own accord—Footwork and Melee Proficiency working in tandem. My sword flashed silver—Enchant—as I struck at the monster's side.

The blade went through bone like butter, the skeleton shrieking through its bone-white mask. Behind the monster, the leaves of the crimson forest swayed in the breeze—as if members of a captive audience.

I held out my shield, conjuring a gust of wind—Arcane Bolt—and sent the skeleton tumbling into the mud.

I leapt, planting my sword in its skull—squelch.

Phew. Three more mobs to complete the damned Tutorial.

Another skeleton rose in its place—black smoke seeping through the grass.

"Guardian Eirynn, live combat is the most efficient Tutorial for Gamers—with a capital G. You are quote not performing so bad unquote."

"Gee, thanks! But I thought I was a Guardian, not a Gamer!"

I huffed and held up my sword and shield, my feet spread even—just like I always did. Or maybe it was Melee Proficiency in the works.

The skeleton hissed, brandishing its spear. Barbed silver tipped the pole. It looked sharp enough to flay the skin off my flesh.

"All Guardians are Gamers, but not all Gamers are Guardians."

"You mean there are others like us?!"

"Yo, noob, shut up! You know we can talk to our Guides—with a capital G—telepathically, right?"

The blonde gal was clad in gold armour—the metal glimmered red under the rays of the sun—as she fought with ax and shield against five skeletons at once. Another Guardian slipped between the skeletons, his blue cloak whipping as he ran one through the chest.

Explosions battered my ears. Dozens of other Guardians clashed with skeletons in the background.

How in the blue hell did they make it look so easy?

"Yo, gal, you shut the hell up!" I screamed, deflecting the spear with the rim of my shield.

The tip grazed my shoulder.

It burned, even as my periphery flashed red.

{HP: 157/312}

What the fuck? Did my HP really get slashed in half from a freaking paper cut?

"Guardian Eirynn, melee combat is ill-advised for quote squishy-as-fuck unquote classes like the Mage. I suggest retreating behind the Warrior and using your spells for magical support. With the Rogue and the Warrior's aid, you have an eighty-six-point-seven percent chance of surviving the fifth wave—an increment of about fifty percent."

Like hell I would.

Jaune Arc had a sword and shield—and I had to use them somehow.

"Yaarrrrgh!"

I rushed the skeleton, pouring twice as much MP into my Arcane Bolt. The wind roared, lifting the skeleton off its feet—and took my shield with it, my own magic snatching the handle from my grip.

Fuck it all.

Without the hunk of metal, nothing stopped another skeleton from rearing its knife and sheathing the blade in my arm.

I hissed, pain creeping up my shoulder.

The world flashed red, blood pounding through my veins. I sucked in a breathful of the damp, woodland air—like fish out of water.

{HP: 13/312}

Shit.

I grimaced, stumbling as I raised my wind-enchanted sword and lopped its masked skull off. The bone-white mask rolled over dirt and dissolved into black smoke.

But the damage was done.

"Guardian Eirynn, I must advise a tactical retreat. Death in the Tutorial is highly—"

My vision blurred, grey creeping over the edges.

I glanced at my arm. Red and purple coated my torn sleeve—like spaghetti sauce and cheese.

Huh.

{Status Effect(s): Bleeding, Poisoned, Blessing of Aura (Locked)}

Well, fuck. I knew I was forgetting something.

My body dragged like boulders.

I collapsed, my face crashing into mud.

Three times in one day, huh?

Just my LUK.

{HP: 0/312}

{Status Effect(s): Dead}

---

Author's Notes:

Edited on 7/26/2021 to account for fanfiction dot net breaking formatting. Again. Sorry about that.

Fun Trivia: Guardians of the Unknowing is canon to Artificer and vice-versa. They're pretty much set in the same continuum—namely the Loreverse Chronology—while still being standalone. Give the other one a read if you're curious. Beware of tonal whiplash though.