ã€ŠOf Second Chances and Past Regretsã€‹


 Prologue

    ¡°C¡¯mon ****, this is an opportunity! With this strange item of yours everything we¡¯ll ever plan is going to be a piece of cake,¡± a young man in his early twenties said, his black military uniform gleaming under the bright sun.

    ¡°Look, this is far too risky! What if we die trying, or worse, are caught and publicly executed?¡± another young man in front of him shouted. He pointed his arm towards a small group of people picnicking in grassy fields. ¡°What then? Think about your sister! Your mother! Your freaking wife! What are they going to do once we die?¡± He grabbed the uniform of the man in front of him, pulling him closer so that their faces nearly touched. ¡°TELL ME!¡±

    The other man stayed silent. After not getting an answer, he sighed and let go of him. ¡°Fuck, you know what? Take it!¡± He paused for a bit, completely ignoring the excited expression on his friend¡¯s face. ¡°Should you ever fail - don¡¯t give me that look, we both know that this is highly possible - then know that I¡¯ll welcome you with open arms. If your stupid actions haven¡¯t killed me until then, that is.¡±

    An old man in rags hiccupped, the fading memories being replaced by blurry people walking past him. He rubbed his tired eyes, stretching himself on the busy street he sat on.

    A small coin fell into the plastic cup in front of him, shaking it for a few seconds. He turned his glassy eyes towards it, reaching out to gather it with his free hand.

    His unkempt beard dragged over the concrete under his feet as he shuffled the credit into the only intact pocked left. His dark, sun burnt and dirty skin was exposed in many places and a foul odour was spreading through his vicinity, causing most of the people who walked past him to frown.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± he mumbled, his dazed expression remaining unchanged.

    The sky above that particular district of the city of New Pandora was an isle of azure in the endless sea of ominous dark clouds promising rain and thunder. As if aware of that fact, the sun shone with an intensity that let the people below feel as if they were about to melt.

    Beads of sweat ran down the old beggar¡¯s rough face as the alcohol within his body caused it to heat up even further, but he was already too drunk to notice things like that.

    ¡°Guess who the new emperor of New Pandora is?¡± the young man whose military uniform had been replaced by a magnificent robe said with a smirk. He had grown older; a few wrinkles having appeared on his otherwise youthful face. ¡°Right, me!¡±

    ¡°So? Am I supposed to be astonished? Remember who lent you his marble?¡± The other young man from the picnic remarked. In stark contrast to his friend, he hadn¡¯t changed at all. It was as if no time had passed for him. ¡°Seriously, I still think that it was a stupid idea. What about the Alliance? They won¡¯t let us off like that. The former king was a trusted ally of theirs.¡±

    He looked off into the distance, where hundreds of thousands of people were celebrating. Sighing for what was probably the hundredth time that day, he said, ¡°The whole galaxy will probably curse me in its history books for this, but you know what? Just keep that damned thing. You¡¯ll probably need it more than I ever will.¡±

    The newly crowned king¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°Seriously? I mean, isn¡¯t it extremely important to you? I don¡¯t want to sound ungrateful or anything like that, but why not simply continue lending it to me?¡±

    The other young man waved his hands lazily. ¡°Because it¡¯s not like I¡¯ll ever do something significant with it anyway. Such a marvellous object would be wasted in my hands, so why not change the fate of the whole human civilization by gifting it to a friend?¡±

    The crowd around him suddenly became far more chaotic, causing him to look up. All the people, even the children, were staring upwards with open mouths.

    In the darkening sky, one could faintly see the silhouettes of dozens of massive ships hovering in the air. As time passed, their figures became larger and larger, until one could finally see the vague outlines of the varying insignias scratched onto their hulls.

    Seeing that, the old man rummaged through his pocket, pulling a small object out. It was a marble, so dark that it seemed to devour the very light around it.

    He stared at it with a blank look on his face. Then, as if it would shatter at the slightest sudden movement, he gently brought it in front of his face. He slowly closed his eyes, whispering, ¡°This is the very last time I shall request something of you, so I hope that you¡¯ll be more compliant this time.¡±

    ¡°Oh? And there I was hoping for another few years of productive cooperation. Well, there¡¯s nothing that can be done about that, I guess,¡± an eerie voice that came from the aether marble said. The very air seemed to fluctuate with every word it said, but no one aside from the old beggar noticed that. ¡°Anyway, what do you want?¡±

    The old man sighed. He looked at the chaotic mass of people around him, all the while rolling the marble between his hands, then into the sky, where the last remnants of the azure areas were being swallowed by dark clouds. ¡°What would it cost me to eradicate the allied forces of the Alliance?¡±Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    For a brief amount of time, the voice didn¡¯t answer. But before the old beggar could even ask about its answer, a booming laughter filled his surroundings. ¡°I would never have thought that such words would come out of your mouth at a time like this. Why didn¡¯t you say them before your friend went to war? If you did, he would still be alive, wouldn¡¯t he?¡±

    Ignoring the odd looks that were being directed at him, the old man stood up and smashed the marble onto the wall behind him. ¡°Shut your fucking mouth! I asked you whether or not you¡¯d fulfil my wish, not why I didn¡¯t do so earlier!¡± He combed his messy hair back with his hands whilst breathing heavily, turning around to face a curious crowd of onlookers. ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing? Fuck off, all of you!¡±

    The marble appeared inside his hands again, having magically vanished from the dusty ground. ¡°Well, I could, but are you sure you want to do this? The price you¡¯ll have to pay won¡¯t be small.¡±

    Seeing that the crowd had started to turn its attention upwards again, the old beggar smiled. ¡°I don¡¯t care. Take the rest of my lifespan and, if something like that even exists, my very soul if you deem it necessary.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure? This isn¡¯t something reversible. Once you agree, there won¡¯t be a way back.¡± The marble in his hands vibrated gently, the fluctuations in the air having vanished.

    ¡°Yes, now hurry up!¡± the old man shouted.

    At that moment, a blinding white light that even the people surrounding him could see erupted from the marble in his hand. It slowly spread through his body, until nothing but a blinding white light could be seen.

    A pillar of light shot forth from where he stood, scattering the gathered clouds and reaching the height where most of the hostile ships were orbiting around New Pandora, splitting up into many smaller beams that each targeted a single ship.

    Soon, massive explosions dyed the sky in a fiery red. Many blazing hot parts of destroyed spaceships sailed through the air, leaving blazing trails of destruction wherever they landed.

    People all over New Pandora were shocked at that sight. Just what could have caused something on this scale? To actually destroy such a massive fleet, and one that was reputed for their invincibility no less, was no small feat. It would require something on the level of divine intervention.

    But their shock soon turned into horror as the remnants of the ships started raining down on them, causing them to scatter and hide wherever they could.

    All of this, however, didn¡¯t concern the old beggar. His figure had already vanished from that once busy street, along with the black marble that used to be in his hands.

    <hr>

    In a certain place that was infinitely far away and yet extremely close to where the old man had vanished, a small white cloud appeared in a space of vast darkness. It was like a small candle in a dark night, yet it never seemed to go out.

    Suddenly, it moved. ¡®Huh? Where the hell am I?¡¯ The cloud lightly pulsated, as if reacting to that thought. ¡®What is this? Am I not supposed to be dead? Didn¡¯t that damned marble take my life? This doesn¡¯t make sense!¡¯

    The pulsating became stronger and stronger, until the cloud rhythmically expanded and contracted. ¡®Wait, could this be some sort of afterlife? If so, then what will happen to me? I¡¯ve never been religious, so I guess that means I¡¯m in hell? Or an equivalent of it?¡¯

    ¡®Wait, how can I even sense that this is darkness? I can¡¯t seem to move my body, yet I¡¯m still capable of ¡®seeing¡¯ that is dark? Are my eyes closed or am I in some sort of coma? Have I become one of those patients that are unable to communicate with their surroundings, yet retain their consciousness?¡¯

    The cloud continued like that for a long time, until the realization that there was no one to welcome it to a hellish place, no one to introduce it to a heaven on earth sunk in. It was all alone in that vast darkness, and that scared it.

    Yet, even that feeling was eventually replaced by the sheer boredom of such a place after an extremely long time went past. Even a confused soul only had so many things to think about, and, in many ways, the boredom was far worse than the previous fear of the unknown.

    Even the pulsing had eventually been reduced to an occasional throb, and the cloud seemed slightly lifeless.

    ¡®If this is how I¡¯m supposed to spend the rest of an eternity, then this place certainly is hell. Now that I think about it, what happened to that marble? Did it simply switch owners?¡¯

    ¡®Wait, could it be the reason for this situation? But that wouldn¡¯t make sense at all. What reason would it have to do so? I even offered my soul to it, and, judging by my very existence in this strange space, I guess that it took it. Then is this the place where devoured souls reside in? But I don¡¯t see any others in here. Could it be that they were digested? Perhaps they were used up as a battery?¡¯

    Before the cloud could continue that train of thought, however, it was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a multi-coloured white light that came from seemingly far away.

    It ceased whatever thoughts it had. The new stimulation for its strange senses was just too interesting. Who knows when something like this would occur again? Or perhaps this was some sort of judge arriving to deliver its verdict? Whatever it was, by now the cloud was sure that anything was better than eternal boredom in that damned space.

    As time passed, the radiance grew stronger and stronger, coming closer with every second that passed. Soon, everything that the cloud could sense was enveloped in it.

    Though it would have been scared had it been any other time, the fact that it wasn¡¯t alone in that all-encompassing darkness relieved the cloud immensely. The thought of spending an eternity all alone, with no one else to talk to was far more terrifying than anything those multi-coloured lights could possibly do.

    If worse came to worst, it¡¯d simply eradicate the cloud, solving all of its problems at the same time.

    But as the multi-coloured light drew nearer, a strange feeling started welling up inside it. It was strangely soothing and calming, as if it were a baby inside the warm embrace of its mother. Though the time of it needing mental support had long since passed, the cloud would never pass up on another topic to think about in that boring hell.

    It briefly wondered about the reason for this warmth coming from the multi-coloured lights, but dismissed it just as quickly as it came to its mind. This was probably something to think about once all of this had passed, since the lights seemed to be aiming for the cloud.

    Before it could continue with any sort of thought, its assumptions proved to be on spot as the lights drew nearer and nearer, until they were close enough to literally feel the light radiating from the sources of those lights. Well, close by the perception of the cloud, since it wasn¡¯t able to estimate distances in the darkness, but it did feel close so it judged it as such.

    ¡°We finally found you, beloved child of ours,¡± a chorus of melodic voices shouted.

    The cloud¡¯s vision went dark, along with its consciousness.

 Chapter 1

    John¡¯s eyes ripped open. He sat up and violently gasped for air, coughing when he inhaled more air and dust than his lungs could bear.

    Closing his eyes again, he softly fell back to the hard ground and laid a palm on his face in a futile try to suppress his pounding headache. He sighed, ruffling through his hair that had somehow become far shorter than he remembered.

    ¡®Fuck, I shouldn¡¯t drink so much anymore. How did I even get this drunk, anyway? It was just a measly bottle of wine. And to think that I could dream such crazy stuff up when drunk. Maybe I should have become an artist instead of a homeless drunkard.¡¯

    The headache intensified as his most recent memories returned to him. John tentatively opened his eyes once again, glimpsing at his surroundings. He was in a shady narrow alley, barely wide enough for two people to pass each other. High, muddy yellow walls surrounded him on both sides, beyond of which a brightly burning sun was sending gentle rays down.

    ¡®This sure brings some memories back,¡¯ he mused. ¡°No wonder they called me¡­huh? Why can¡¯t I seem to remember my name? Why does John pop up whenever I think about it?!¡¯

    John started to panic, but stopped himself before he could fall into a dangerous train of thought. He was in an unfamiliar alley, so he should probably search for a familiar part of New Pandora to rest in before allowing himself to panic.

    He mentally applauded himself for thinking of such a brilliant plan despite the pounding headache that threatened to make him pass out in pain.

    He heard a strange sound that he had never heard before from his left. He looked at the end of the alley it was coming from, only to notice that an absolutely massive horse was producing it every time its feet touched the ground. All the thoughts he had a few moments ago vanished into nothing but hot air.

    John ignored the pain he was feeling at the moment and stood up. It was the first time he had seen one in real life. In New Pandora, the only place you could find horses in were biology books and fairy tales. Though its exaggerated size confused him, he nonetheless pressed on.

    Leaning onto the rough wall beside him, he stumbled his way towards the slowly moving animal.

    ¡°Hey kid, what do you think you¡¯re doing?¡± a giant clothed in a strange tunic asked him.

    John snapped out of his trance, only now noticing that the people around him seemed considerable bigger than him. They were, in fact, looking at him as if he were a strange animal that had broken out of its cage and had found its way to its former captors.

    ¡°Um,¡± he said, surprised at the high pitch of his voice. ¡°Well, I just wanted to take a closer look at that majestic beast of burden there.¡± He pointed at the neighing horse.

    The giant looked at him strangely. ¡°Boy, you¡¯ve probably eaten the wrong thing for dinner. That¡¯s a fucking horse.¡± He shook his head and shrugged. ¡°Well, if you insist you can go ahead and look at it all you want. It¡¯s not like anyone will hinder you from doing so.¡±

    He tentatively approached it until a thought struck him like a thunderbolt. ¡®Why am I surrounded by giants? I may have never been tall, but I can¡¯t seem to remember ever seeing people twice my size. Could it be that I¡¯ve landed on a foreign planet that is populated by gigantic beings that look exactly like humans and happen to have developed the same language? Impossible. The possibility of something like that happening is even lower than that of going through a wall.¡¯

    ¡®Wait, did he just call me boy?¡¯ His eyes became as wide as saucers as a terrifying realization slowly dawned upon him. Slowly his gaze moved downwards, where he discovered that his skin wasn¡¯t as wrinkled as he remembered it to be. Or as hairy, for that matter.

    In his mind, everything clicked into place. The high voice, wrinkle-less skin and height of the people around him. If he really was a child, then it would truly fit.

    ¡®But how? Don¡¯t tell me this is the work of that marble? No, even if it were able to, it would never do something like that without a suitable compensation. Is this the work of those strange voices, then? I don¡¯t remember ever meeting beings that are even remotely powerful enough to accomplish something like revival, let alone reincarnation in a child¡¯s body.¡¯

    A middle aged extremely well built man that stood out even amongst giants bumped into John, causing him to fall on his rear-end. It seemed like he didn¡¯t even notice that he had pushed John over at first, only realizing what he had done when he almost stepped on him.

    He stopped his foot in mid-air, slowly it moving aside to set it down a few centimetres next John¡¯s head. ¡°Oh, sorry kid.¡± He smiled kindly at John. ¡°I don¡¯t pay attention for a moment and this is what happens.¡± He grabbed John¡¯s linen shirt and pulled him up, hastily dusting the dirt off him.

    ¡°Where are your parents? Don¡¯t they know that it¡¯s dangerous to let a child run around by itself like this? Especially in times like this, you know?¡± he said, stretching his massive frame to search the crowd for frantic looking people.

    John, whose mind had gone haywire, slowly put a hand on his arm and pinched it. When he felt the pain that overshadowed even his headache, he grimaced.

    ¡°Oh my holy pile of steaming shit. What have you gotten yourself into?¡± he muttered.

    The man slapped John at the back of his head, sending him headfirst into the ground again. ¡°I will NOT hear such words coming out of your mouth again, do you understand?¡± he chided. ¡°Where did you learn such dirty words? Really, kids these days have no manners. To think that they would curse such vicious words because of a simple encounter with a middle aged man! Back in the day, something like that would have been impossible. We were far better behaved than you youngsters nowadays. Unlike you, we never dared to even think of uttering such words in front of adults, you know? Hey, why aren¡¯t you moving? HEY! Are yo...... ¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    <hr>

    The throbbing pain came in intervals with just enough time between them to let him relax, but not enough to let him enter the sweet embrace of sleep.

    It was hot, and John could barely feel some sweat running down his temple in his delirium.

    He tossed and turned, but no matter what he did, he wasn¡¯t able to sink into the blissful lands of dreams. Finally, John hesitantly opened his tired eyes. His heart was beating rapidly, as if trying to signify him that he wasn¡¯t in a good state.

    He could vaguely make out the blurry outlines of an angular face with thick, almost bushy eyebrows. The fog that covered his vision and mind obscured any other details he may have grasped in a normal situation.

    Some murmurs reached his ears, but it didn¡¯t really sound different from the constant droning he was hearing. He heard an exaggeratedly loud sigh from somewhere before feeling a cold, smooth and round object being pushed down his throat.

    He gagged and tried to spit it out, but a strong force held him down and paralyzed him.

    A flame that easily dwarfed the ambient heat erupted from inside his stomach, quickly spreading to the rest of his body. His whole body jerked whilst a soundless scream escaped his lips. It didn¡¯t take long for the flame to completely engulf him, but contrary to his expectations, the pain started becoming more bearable at the exact same moment.

    The throbbing became slower and slower. Gradually, John¡¯s tiredness mostly disappeared, and he opened his heavy eyes with a groan. He smacked his lips together as he felt his dry throat.

    ¡®Water¡¯, he thought and groaned at the same time.

    He was surrounded by walls made of roughly cut wooden planks. They weren¡¯t even properly waxed, to the point that it would be ridiculously easy to get a splinter or two if one were to run into one. Not that he ever planned on doing so, of course. The ceiling, being made up of the same material as the floor and the walls, didn¡¯t do much to improve the ambience.

    The air was somewhat stifling, indicating that he had been here for quite some time. Either that or it was even hotter than he thought.

    He let his gaze wander around, catching sight of the giant that had caused him to pass out sitting on a cushioned chair next to him. Now that John took a closer look at him, he saw that he seemed even older than he thought. The rough stubble covering his cheeks and the receding hairline coupled with a few white hairs at the fringe of his brown mane went a long way to prove that. There seemed to be a few crow feet at the corner of his eyes, too, further reinforcing his suspicions.

    John estimated him to be around forty to fifty years old, but he could very well be wrong. He had never been good at guessing the age of people. Or estimating things in general.

    The giant¡¯s arms were crossed in front of his chest, exposing the upper half of a blue badge that had the head of some strange being that looked like a hideous version of an eagle engraved on it. The green robe that covered most of his body shifted as the giant opened his eyes in a flash and stood up.

    ¡°Seems like you finally woke up,¡± he said whilst yawning.

    ¡°Where are we?¡± John asked, completely ignoring the implications of the strange man¡¯s words. ¡°Did you bring me here? What do you want from me?¡±

    The strange man slowly approached him whilst raising his hands in front of his chest. ¡°Whoa, calm down kid. We¡¯re in an inn. After you collapsed on the street-¡°

    ¡°Due to your actions.¡± John interjected.

    The strange man shot him an annoyed look, but continued as if he hadn¡¯t even heard him, ¡°I brought you here since your parents didn¡¯t appear even after searching for a while. It seems like you had a pretty bad fever, so I pushed a healing pellet down your throat. As you can see, it worked.¡±

    Seeing that John didn¡¯t have any reaction when he mentioned the healing pellet, he sighed. ¡°You do realize that healing pellets are quite expensive, do you? They take quite a lot of aether to make.¡±

    John awkwardly scratched the back of his head, not sure whether or not he should believe him or what to make of the strange words he was speaking. ¡°Thanks, I guess? Is there any way I can repay you?¡±

    The strange man shook his head. ¡°None. Do you have parents?¡±

    ¡°¡­¡± He opened his mouth, only to quickly shut it again. John didn¡¯t really know how to answer this question, especially due to the fact that he couldn¡¯t seem to remember anything about the life of the body he was in. The only thing he woke up with was that his name was John. If he said yes, then he would have to prove it, but if he said no and he did have parents who were searching for him right now, then it would become even more problematic.

    ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡± the man asked after a period of awkward silence.

    ¡°Let¡¯s say your assumption is true. What would you do if that were the case?¡±

    ¡°Big words for toddler, I gotta admit that. Has anyone ever told you that your mannerisms and looks don¡¯t match?¡± he remarked. ¡°But to answer your question: I would probably help you search for them. If we still don¡¯t find them after a few hours have passed, well, tough luck. You¡¯ll be on your own.¡±

    ¡°Cruel words. So you would abandon a lovable small child like me who can¡¯t even fend for himself?¡±

    ¡°These are cruel times, sonny. But since I already wasted a healing pellet on you, I guess I could show you the way to the next orphanage.¡±

    ¡°Seems like a deal. How long was I out for?¡±

    The strange man looked out of the window, checking something outside. ¡°Around an hour.¡± He stood up, brushing some non-existent dust off himself. ¡°Let¡¯s go, we don¡¯t have any time to waste.¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡± John hopped out of the bed he was on, only now noticing that his clothes consisted of a rough linen shirt and lots of air. ¡®Well, I guess it beats some combat suits I had to wear in terms of comfort.¡¯

    He noticed that the strange man had stretched his hand out, presumably for him to hold onto. He snorted and gently pushed it aside. ¡°I think I can handle this by myself,¡± he said and hopped out of the bed he was sitting on.

    The strange giant quirked an eyebrow at his behaviour, but retrieved his hands nonetheless. ¡°My name¡¯s George, by the way,¡± he stated, stepping through the already opened door.

    John cursed his small legs as he hurried after George, only catching up to him after they had already crossed most of the corridor that led to a busy tavern. ¡°Why are you telling me your name? I thought we¡¯ll never see each other again after this.¡±

    George slowed down so that they could walk side by side. ¡°Fate often has some strange surprises in stock for one, you know? Who knows what could happen in the future?¡±

    John looked down, his eyes glazing over as long buried memories returned.

    A few seconds passed in silence, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Finally, George started noticing that John wasn¡¯t behaving normally. He laid a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him in order free him from his trance.

    ¡°You okay?¡± he gently asked.

    A sigh escaped John¡¯s lips as he shook his head furiously. ¡°Yes, I guess I am. Just some memories, you know?¡±

    George wanted to laugh, but couldn¡¯t bring himself to do so. The mood just wasn¡¯t right for that. Instead, he gave John a wry smile as they stepped through the front door. ¡°What memories could a kid like you possibly have?¡±

    John replied with another wry smile, putting a hand above his eyes in order to shield himself from the sudden increase of light. ¡°Anyway, my name¡¯s John.¡±

    The air outside was even hotter and more humid than he remembered it to be, and it hit him like a wall as he stepped outside. ¡°So, got any clue where the next orphanage is?¡±

    George put a hand to his bearded chin, as if in deep thought. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

 Chapter 2

    They joined the bustling crowd, George skilfully moving around in the stinking mass of people that occasionally blocked their ways. John¡¯s short legs, however, prevented him from doing the same. He often bumped into people and elicited some curses directed at him, but he simply ignored them as he had more important things to do. Like keeping up with George.

    He quickened the pace of his steps, only now realizing that he was barefooted. The small pebbles on the ground, however, didn¡¯t dig into his skin like they should have. Rather than that, it was like the soles of his feet were already thick enough for something like that to almost not bother him.

    ¡®Seems like I really should be an orphan. Or at least come from a poor family. With feet this thick skinned, and clothes this bad, I somehow doubt that I was born into a well off household.¡¯

    He noted the strange sandals that were pretty much just a piece of leather barely covering one¡¯s foot held together by a string that the people around him wore as he pushed and shoved his way through the crowd, using George as a bulldozer to ease his progress. ¡°When are we going to arrive?¡± he shouted over the background noise of hundreds, if not thousands of people talking and walking at the same time.

    Fortunately, there weren¡¯t any markets of the sort nearby, or else his voice would probably have been drowned in a mass of screaming people. John briefly wondered why he wasn¡¯t more shocked about suddenly being stuck in a child¡¯s body in a medieval world whilst following a man he had met just a few hours ago around, but, like many other things, he shoved these thoughts to the back of his head.

    He would think about them when he had the time to.

    George grabbed his shoulder, pulling John next to his side. ¡°You better be careful here, kiddo. You could easily get lost in a crowd this big,¡± he cautioned him. Then, looking at the clothes he wore, he clicked his tongue. ¡°And you better watch your back. Who knows which unsavoury fellows could be targeting you.¡±

    Although the grip on his shoulder was painful, John didn¡¯t shake it off. He also knew that it would be safer if he was seen with an adult. Not to mention a hulking beast of a man like George, who would have been capable of easily parting the crowds had they been on New Pandora. As such, he only warily watched his surroundings, preparing to run if should the need arise.

    Strangely enough, the thought that George could be plotting something only briefly crossed his mind. He just didn¡¯t seem like that kind of person to him. And if he really wanted to do something, he would have done so when he was out cold from his¡­whatever it was that he had.

    After reaffirming his grip once again, George¡¯s hand slid down to John¡¯s wrist, where it held him firmly in place. ¡°As far as I know, we¡¯ll get there quite soon, so don¡¯t stress yourself too much. It¡¯s not like the orphanage will vanish if we arrive there later.¡±

    John nodded, the shock at having his wrist grabbed slowly vanishing. ¡°What¡¯s life in the orphanage like?¡± he asked, noting that the number of people around him had lessened as soon as they turned a corner. The street had also become narrower, and the buildings didn¡¯t seem to be as high anymore.

    ¡°You don¡¯t even know that?¡±

    ¡°Nope, would I be asking you otherwise?¡±

    ¡°Probably not.¡± George stopped in front of a food stall selling grilled meat. ¡°Have you eaten yet?¡±

    For whatever reason, John didn¡¯t really feel hungry, but thinking that food could never hurt, he shook his head. Plus, the smell made his mouth water. He forgot what the question he just asked, fully focusing on the food in front of him.

    George ordered two pieces, not specifying anything. A single black coin suddenly appeared in his empty palm. He handed it to the old man manning the stall, who gave him two oversized toothpicks, on which a number of vegetables hung.

    Handing one to John, he ignored his curious gaze and continued walking, occasionally taking a bite out of his vegetable stick whilst not letting his grip relax even the slightest.

    ¡°Hey, where did you pull that coin out of? Do you have a wallet hidden somewhere on your arms?¡± John asked whilst curiously inspecting George¡¯s clothes.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    ¡°Stop that!¡± A hand chopped down on John¡¯s head. George sighed, and smacked his left hand against his face, the right still firmly holding the vegetable stick. ¡°I swear, you act like a child your age for once, and then you just have to annoy the hell out of me with things that make me question the presence of common sense in that little skull of yours.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no helping it; you know? I can¡¯t seem to remember anything after waking up in an alley and stumbling into you, dumbass.¡± John remarked whilst holding his head. ¡°And why the hell¡¯s your hand so hard? For a second I thought my head was going to split in two!¡±

    ¡°Okay, so you don¡¯t know shit about anything?¡±

    ¡°Pretty much, yeah.¡±

    ¡°Do you know how old you are?¡±

    ¡°Nope.¡±

    ¡°Do you even know what you look like?¡±

    ¡°Like a child?¡±

    George violently ripped a chunk of the vegetables off, cracking his stick in the process. ¡°Yes. Like a very small child, in fact. You don¡¯t act like one, though. To the point that I tend to forget that I¡¯m talking with someone who barely reaches my hips unless I turn around to take a look at you.¡±

    ¡°So? You still haven¡¯t told me how you¡¯re able to conjure up a coin on top of your palm, by the way.¡±

    ¡°You know, you¡¯re going to learn all of that once you arrive at the orphanage, anyway. And I don¡¯t really feel like explaining right now.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re mean!¡± John shouted, pouting just like a little child would. ¡®Gosh, I hope this works. Otherwise I won¡¯t be able to live with myself anymore. To think that I would be pouting at my age¡­¡¯ a shiver ran down his spine.

    ¡°You¡¯re not cute. Not at all.¡± George looked at him as if he were something filthy that had just gotten into his line of sight, cringing all the while. ¡°That pout is totally forced, little bastard! More than anything else, you resemble an old man trying to imitate a pouting kid.¡±

    ¡®Well, he isn¡¯t too far off the truth. Let¡¯s see if he can resist my killing blow!¡¯ John blinked at him whilst trying to make his eyes as big as possible. ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Like I said, it¡¯s totally forced¡± George turned his head, dragging John with him as he marched on.

    ¡°Aww c¡¯mon man! You can¡¯t do this to me. The curiosity is killing me!¡± John shouted loud enough for most people in the vicinity to hear him. No one turned around to even glance at him.

    ¡°The orphanage has people who can explain it far better than me.¡± George finally stated after a while of having to listen to John¡¯s complains. ¡°Believe me, they¡¯ll teach you at least 20 times better than me, so shut it until we arrive there, okay?¡±

    John hummed in response, opting to stay silent before he truly enraged George.

    After a few minutes of walking in awkward silence, a big mansion that couldn¡¯t be overlooked in the narrow streets of whatever city John was in appeared in their sights.

    Low walls made out of golden bricks with an equally golden fence that rose far above the heads of the passer-by¡¯s proudly marked the edges of the territory that a huge mansion occupied, causing John¡¯s brain to immediately short-circuit.

    ¡®So much gold!¡¯ was the only thing echoing inside his skull.

    When the gears in his head finally started turning again, his mind started to furiously calculate the amount of money a single one of these bricks would be worth if it were composed of pure gold.

    He sucked in a breath. It was an absolutely astonishing sum, especially considering that someone had actually built a whole wall with such precious materials.

    What was even more astonishing, though, was the fact that it was still standing without a single brick missing. As John¡¯s mind started to work normally again, he realized that it would probably be impossible to find anyone stupid and rich enough for extravagance on the level of building walls with bricks made of pure gold.

    Not to mention that the bricks were most likely only coated with a thin layer of gold to make it appear precious. He couldn¡¯t, no, he didn¡¯t want to think of any other possibility.

    At some point of time George had stopped to watch John¡¯s facial expressions change every few seconds with undisguised fascination. Upon noticing that John had started taking his surroundings into account again, he didn¡¯t even try to act as if nothing had happened.

    Instead, he asked, ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Have you never seen any of the richer parts in Frumentum?¡±

    John absentmindedly realized that Frumentum must have been the name of the city he was in. This piece of information was probably important, but he didn¡¯t have the processing power to spare for that sort of thought. Once again, his curiosity was getting the better of him. Badly.

    ¡°Hey, George, can I ask you something?¡± he inquired, continuing before his companion could respond, ¡°Are these walls made up of pure gold?¡±

    George scratched his long hair that reached his shoulders as he turned to look towards the shining walls in front of him. ¡°Probably? I never really cared about that kind of stuff, but it should be quite likely.¡± He cocked an eyebrow at John. ¡°Why would you care whether or not it¡¯s composed of gold or not? I mean, it¡¯s not like that stuff¡¯s rare. You¡¯d encounter it quite often if you¡¯re in the nobles¡¯ district.¡±

    John¡¯s mouth opened, but no words would come out. After an awkward period of standing in the middle of a moving crowd whilst making no effort to let any people through, he closed it and started to run a few fingers through his short hair.

    ¡°But¡­¡± he started to say, the rest of the words coming out as nothing but incoherent mumbles.

    ¡°Whatcha saying boy? Speak louder or else I won¡¯t be able to hear you.¡±

    ¡°Eh, it¡¯s nothing.¡± John pointed a finger at the pair of massive wooden doors that marked the entrance to the mansion grounds. ¡°Is this the orphanage I¡¯ll be living in?¡± he inquired, but even he himself noticed how off he sounded.

    ¡°Mhm.¡± George hummed, nodding his head once in approval to make it even clearer. ¡°Let¡¯s go, I¡¯ve still got some work to do.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡±

 Chapter 3

    As they slowly closed in on the gate, John was feeling a strange reluctance to part with his short-term companion. It was a feeling he hadn¡¯t experienced in a long time, and he chided himself for letting a person who was practically a stranger into his heart so quickly. ¡®Not like I can do anything about that, though.¡¯

    He shook his head, clearing it of unnecessary thoughts and stared at the heavily decorated set of doors in front of him. Contrary to his expectations, they didn¡¯t seem to be made of gold. The material seemed to be some sort of wood, but the colourful carvings seemed to cover most details about it up.

    Not that the carvings themselves weren¡¯t interesting enough. All sorts of mythical beasts like European dragons and Hydras were being depicted around two humans, one male and one female, in golden armour, seemingly attacking them at the same time. The man was stationed at the right side, the woman at the left and both of them were radiating a bright aura of the same colour as their armour that enveloped their surroundings.

    The couple had a solemn look on their somewhat indistinct faces, the two of them seeming to gaze at the observer with a strange intensity that should have been impossible to emit by wooden carvings.

    George nudged John¡¯s head with his elbow before he could sink into the picture any further. ¡°I know that the door is awesome, but don¡¯t lose yourself in it. We¡¯ve got some serious business coming right up,¡± he said whilst steeling his gaze at the two armoured guards watching over the entrance.

    Heavy golden plate armour covered them from head to toe, letting nothing but their eyes under the thin visors be seen. It was made intricately, enough so that even an amateur like John could see that they would be able to nimbly move around in that armour if they had the necessary strength to do so.

    It was built to impede their movements only minimally, the thick plates neatly intersecting with each other in a manner that allowed the wearers to perform almost all movement a person without armour could.

    The one to John¡¯s left had somehow stabbed the scabbard of its sword deep into the ground, placing both hands on it like a statue would. The other guard, which looked completely identical if not for its scabbard being considerably wider, was occasionally turning its head around to inspect its surroundings.

    The constant onslaught of gold was slowly annoying John. Just who would be stupid enough to actually use golden armour? The only thing it would do, even if the gold was just painted on it, was to turn you into a shining target.

    They stopped a metre away from the golden guards. ¡°Good day, sirs. I have come here to deliver this child-¡° George ruffled John¡¯s hair. ¡°Into your care. He¡¯s quite the strange one, but I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll be of great use.¡±

    George¡¯s choice of words made John quirk his eyebrow in confusion. Of great use? Was he going to become a child labourer? Considering that his surroundings seemed to be medieval, that possibility was quite likely.

    The left guard moved its hands away from its sword, slowly walking towards John. George let go of him and stepped back. It seemed like he would let the guard do whatever it wanted.

    The armoured figure stopped a few inches in front of John, whose eyelevel barely reached the waist portion of the armour. ¡°Is he a warrior?¡± a completely gender-neutral voice asked. It was somewhat blurred even though its owner stood right in front of John, confusing the hell out of him. He couldn¡¯t really make heads or tails out of it since they shouldn¡¯t have the technology necessary to produce voice-altering devices.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I just found him on the streets and figured that it was probably better if he was in your care. There¡¯s only so much you can find out about someone if you know him for a short time, you know?¡±

    The soft leather surface of a glove settled on his head, ruffling through his oily hair. ¡°Then let¡¯s find out right now.¡±

    The hand retracted from John¡¯s head and he saw it take a tablet out of thin air. ¡°Sit down boy.¡±

    ¡°Right here?¡±

    ¡°Right here.¡±

    John shrugged, figuring that it was useless to ask it why he should do so. He sat down on the ground and crossed his legs, careful not to expose his private parts for the whole world to see.

    ¡°Okay, now close your eyes.¡±

    He did as he was told.

    It was only then that he noticed how horribly loud the surroundings were. Carriages constantly rattled their way through the broad streets. Countless people were chattering whilst walking around and some vendors were loudly advertising their wares, creating a cacophony of noise that almost threatened to overwhelm him now that he focused on it.

    Before that could happen, though, he heard the guard¡¯s voice again, ¡°Tell me if you can detect something in your vicinity. And no, I don¡¯t want a description of some random chat that some people nearby have had. Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯ll either feel it or you won¡¯t.¡±

    He didn¡¯t really know how to feel about those less than understandable words, but he nonetheless resumed trying to feel his surroundings out.

    The thin layer of linen protecting him from the warm and dirty ground didn¡¯t do too much to make the feeling of pebbles digging into his buttocks more comfortable. He didn¡¯t even dare to shift his weight in fear of worsening the situation. The only plus point to it was that the thin oversized shirt didn¡¯t cling to his skin, even though he was quite sweaty from walking around so much.

    A few strands of heavy, oily hair were clinging to his forehead, and an unpleasant smell that had appeared after walking around in the heat for too long surrounded him. There was a faint itch all over his body, being especially concentrated at the upper portion of his back and the parts of his forehead where the hairs touched bare skin.

    He was suppressing the urge to scratch it when he finally felt it. It wasn¡¯t something that he could have explained with words alone, but if he had to use the limited vocabulary of the Intergalactic Language, it would be a lukewarm gaseous substance in the all-encompassing heat surrounding him that he could feel from even a few metres away.

    Feeling the presence of something that was located a few metres away confused him quite a bit at first, but he soon guessed that it should be the thing that the guard had mentioned.

    As he slowly got used to the new sensation, the strange gas seemed to slowly crawl towards him whilst spreading into its surroundings. He reckoned that there wouldn¡¯t be much left of it if it by the time it reached him.

    ¡°I can feel it. It¡¯s¡­a somewhat lukewarm substance, right? It¡¯s coming from my left and slowly spreads towards its surroundings. Kinda like warm water that¡¯s poured into a cold bathtub, only that the tub I¡¯m speaking of is the air around us,¡± John said whilst scratching his head.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Although he appeared calm on the outside, the sound of his rapidly beating heart was overshadowing everything else in John¡¯s mind at that moment. The sensation that substance gave off was strangely close to the one that those strange beings of light.

    He knew that this was a clue. A tremendously important one that could solve the reason for his sudden reincarnation, but he didn¡¯t know what to do with it. He filed the newfound information away for later use and focused on slowly calming his breathing down.

    After accomplishing that feat, he realized that the adults around him had probably been silent for quite some time. Then, the guard instructing him began to laugh heartily whilst clapping loudly, shrill sounds to reverberate through the air. John noted that its manner of laughing seemed remarkably masculine, but since he was in an unknown place it could just as well be feminine for all he knew.

    When it had finally calmed down, the guard said, ¡°This one is interesting, that¡¯s for sure.¡± It turned to face George whilst pointing at John. ¡°Anyway, do you happen to know why a dirty street urchin looking like a toddler knows what a bathtub is? Or why he speaks like a fucking adult, for that matter. The difference between his words and appearance is pretty creepy.¡±

    George helplessly shrugged. ¡°Not really. He was like that from the moment I picked him up. Maybe he¡¯s just really intelligent?¡±

    A pair of shining eyes locked onto John as the other guard moved to stand behind him. He swallowed the spit that had gathered in his mouth as he contemplated for a way to escape. Unfortunately, he quickly realized that his chances of succeeding were slim at best.

    ¡°Greg, stop. Can¡¯t you see that you¡¯re frightening the kid?¡± the guard in front of him said. ¡°Look at him, it¡¯s obvious that he¡¯s searching for escape routes.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think that will be a problem, right?¡±, a voice that sounded identical to the one of the guard in front of him stated as a pair of armoured hands gripped his shoulders, slamming his buttocks into the pebbles beneath them.

    John drew a sharp breath, but stayed silent. He was trapped. ¡®Whelp, there go my escape plans.¡¯ ¡°No, of course not sir. I wouldn¡¯t even dare to think about it.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s good to hear. We wouldn¡¯t want another runaway child, right?¡±

    John could literally feel the malicious grin behind him, but he chose to ignore it. ¡°So, I guess that I qualify, right?¡±

    The grip on his shoulders tightened. ¡°Yes, you do. Now be a good kid and obediently come with us.¡± John felt himself being pulled up until his feet were dangling a few centimetres above ground level.

    ¡°Thank you for bringing this child to us. You can come and visit him anytime, so don¡¯t worry. We won¡¯t mistreat him¡­too much.¡± The guard in front of him informed George and proceeded to push the massive doors open without problems.

    ¡®Hey, what the fuck do you mean?!¡¯, John shouted inside his head. He suddenly realized that coming here with George could have been a tremendous mistake. In fact, this whole scenario seemed suspiciously much like an abduction in broad daylight.

    The other guard, having shifted his hands to lift John from under his armpits, slowly walked through the doorframe without missing a beat.

    George didn¡¯t really seem fazed by the whole procedure, only winking at John as he saw him being carried into a vast courtyard. ¡°I¡¯ll visit you when I have time you creepy rascal!¡± he shouted just as his figure disappeared behind the automatically closing doors.

    By now John didn¡¯t even want to bother with the reason for them closing without any further input anymore. He simply assumed that this was normal. Or magic.

    They swiftly passed beautifully trimmed bushes and vibrant grass, treading on a golden path that led him through the surreally perfect garden. A row of old and gnarly trees formed a canopy that arched far above their heads, protecting them from the hot afternoon sun.

    ¡®To think that I¡¯d actually see so much greenery again¡­how nostalgic.¡¯ He reached out to touch them in passing, only to realize that they didn¡¯t feel that different from artificial plants. Technology had just advanced too far. Things like real nature¡­ had become something far removed from the common folk. Sure, he had seen some similar scenes in the latter period of his life, but that didn¡¯t change the fact that nature had almost vanished from the daily lives of most humans.

    Now, seeing this beautiful garden and his medieval environment, he started to see why no one complained about that aside from the few environmentalists that remained. Nature may be beautiful, but he would gladly trade all of that in for running water and access to the Interweb any time.

    ¡°So, what are we going to do now?¡± John asked after calming down. They had already been on their way for quite some time and he wasn¡¯t sure what he was supposed to do now. Being carried around like the small child he had apparently turned into was slowly becoming awkward. ¡°I mean, what¡¯s the plan? What will I be doing in that orphanage of yours?¡±

    The guard, probably annoyed with having to carry him around in that taxing position, slung him over his hard but remarkably warm metallic shoulder plate. ¡°Well, first of all you¡¯ll be registered and then get checked for all kinds of diseases you might be carrying. Then, you¡¯ll be sent to the bath because you smell like you haven¡¯t washed yourself in half an eternity.¡±

    After a period of silence passed, John realized that the guard wasn¡¯t intending to tell him more. ¡°Are you male or female?¡± he inquired. Both guard¡¯s armour hid their bodies from his sight, and it was slowly getting awkward for him to think of them as gender-neutral beings when they were obviously made out of flesh and blood.

    He was painfully slapped on his buttocks. ¡°I¡¯m male. Can¡¯t you see that, brat? Seriously, kids these days don¡¯t seem to use their eyes anymore.¡±

    ¡°Uhh how am I supposed to do that if your armour blocks my sight?¡±

    ¡°Boy, are you serious?¡±

    ¡°If I weren¡¯t, would I be asking a fully armoured stranger carrying me on his shoulder?¡±

    The guard sighed, the sound being somewhat muffled by his helmet. ¡°You know; the breastplates of women tend to be bigger than that of men. And the waist portion smaller, but that¡¯s not always the case I guess. Well, the easiest way to discern that would be asking them for their weight and age, though.¡±

    ¡®I guess some things never change, huh?¡¯ John mused as he stared at the worn tiles beneath him. He faintly recalled that gold was a horrible material for building streets due to its relative softness.

    By then, John could already faintly hear the sounds of children shouting something. When he paid more attention to it, though, he realized that it didn¡¯t sound like laughter. More like screams.

    The bushes at his sides had still not cleared up, their dense growth effectively blocking all his attempts at seeing through them. John briefly wondered when the bushes had become thick enough to not let him see above through them anymore, but he dismissed it quite quickly. It was probably just one of those unexplainable medieval trends.

    ¡°Judging by the look on your face you must have heard the trainees, huh? Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯ll become like them in no time! We, the Golden Gate, are renowned for producing some of the greatest warriors Frumentum has ever seen,¡± he claimed.

    ¡°Errr, what? What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Well, we¡¯ll be training you, of course!¡±

    Before John could clarify the situation, he realized that they had arrived at an inconspicuous wooden door. The only things that stood out were a set cow heads with a ring attached to their noses, one for each otherwise unadorned dark brown door. They were nested in a black doorframe that stood in stark contrast to the white walls around it.

    From the corner of his vision, John saw that there some drawings at many different places on the wall that seemed to stretch on for quite a distance. After focusing on them, he was barely able to discern a few scribbles underneath those drawings. Before he could further examine them, however, the doors magically opened as soon as they drew close.

    They were greeted by the sight of a bald grizzled man with a long, black beard behind an ancient wooden reception desk with a few orderly stacks of paper were scattered on top of it. A soft green carped covered the ground, and a few pictures of all sizes and forms covered most of the walls that were painted in a pleasant amber. On the ceiling hung a small glass chandelier, illuminating the room with the flickering lights of a few brightly shining stones, which John didn¡¯t even waste a glance on.

    Upon their entrance, the receptionist lifted his head. What greeted them was the visage of a tired middle aged man with countless dark circles under his eyes. He wore a long grey robe that covered his whole body. His icy eyes quietly sized them up. He sighed, hanging his head low.

    ¡°Ahh, there goes my newfound calm,¡± he grumbled and pointed a finger at a shield with some strange symbols on it. ¡°The medical examinations are over there. Take care to not disturb me too much, will you? I haven¡¯t slept in weeks and there¡¯s still quite a lot of stuff to do.¡± After saying that, he immediately resumed quietly writing on a parchment with a feather.

    ¡®Great. Just great. I can already feel that I¡¯ll fit in in no time at all.¡¯

 Chapter 4

    In a location far away from John, Goddard punched a soldier in golden armour in the face. His black mittens started vibrating just before he struck, creating a strange screeching sound as it went through his opponent¡¯s face without much resistance.

    Goddard listened to his surroundings, discovering that the troops on his site were quickly losing ground. Screams tore through the air as dozens of lives were extinguished in a matter of seconds, joining the hundreds of corpses scattered on the blood-soaked plains as a golden flood unceasingly pressed forward. There were thousands of soldiers battling here, and even valiant warriors like Goddard were in danger at all times.

    They were in the Scarlet Plains, the most sought after region in the territory of humanity. Located in the middle of the Human Triangle, it was even more fertile than the Frumenti Plains, making it a prime target for any and all of the three Rulers.

    He was in but one of many battles that were fought here every year, and Goddard was slowly starting to wonder why they even bothered anymore. In his opinion, the amount of lives lost in every battle far outstripped the potential worth of this region in terms of profitability. Not that anyone would be able to hold it for long, anyway.

    As far as he knew, no one had been able to hold this territory for more than a few months. Hence the name Scarlet Plains, for the amount of blood that had soaked the ground should have coloured it scarlet long ago.

    He heard a few small, sharp objects that were willed to the brim with aether rapidly approach his position from overhead, causing him to quickly pull his fist out and use his recently deceased opponents body as a shield.

    Numerous thuds impacted the corpse on top of Goddard. He sent a quick prayer towards Alessandra, hoping that none would pierce his cover and dent his armour. Fortunately, he didn¡¯t have to worry about someone else attacking him whilst searching for cover since everyone else in his region was doing their very best to avoid the arrows in any way possible. Who would have thought that the frontline being so scattered would help him out so much this time.

    When Goddard couldn¡¯t hear any incoming projectiles anymore, he hurriedly threw the corpse away. He stood up and readied his buckler. Judging by the screams and groans in his surroundings, quite a few people had fallen in this salve.

    Quickly backpedalling before the Frumenti could recover, Goddard fell back to join the rest of the Ardensian army that was trying to regroup after the catastrophic attack on their flank. This battle had been anything but favourable until now, and he hoped that general Monroe had a plan. Preferably one that involved them getting out alive.

    ¡°TAKE FORMATION!¡± the banner bearer, a good friend of Goddard¡¯s called Hanks shouted, waving the flag with an erupting volcano on it in the air. His voice pierced through the whole area, enabling every single one of the Ardensian soldiers to receive their orders.

    Goddard gulped, seeing that the golden flood composed of Frumenti had started moving once again. He gripped his buckler tighter, the familiar rush of aether washing any distracting emotions away. All that remained was a sea of cold indifference.

    ¡°RAISE YOUR SHIELDS!¡±

    Goddard grunted as the hail of fire and ice resumed raining down around him once again. The small metallic buckler attached to his left arm started vibrating as it erected a forcefield that directed any and all attacks away, causing the area in front of him to turn into a muddy mess.

    He started to radiate a blinding white light as he pushed his halberd forwards, its fiery tip easily breaking through any resistance as the shaft extended forwards in a milky white explosion of light. He impaled a few of the front most most attackers, shortening the halberd soon afterwards as a fierce melee broke out.

    The people around him were doing their best to resist, shooting and swinging and stabbing devastating attacks at their approaching enemies. Many on both sides fell in the veritable flood of attacks, causing a never-ending cacophony of ear-piercing screams to rip through the air. Nevertheless, both sides continued charging whilst ignoring their causalities.

    Pulling his halberd back, he flattened the helmet of another soldier that had gotten too close with his buckler. An ice bullet bounced off his ridiculously thick armour, ricocheting into the leg of a soldier standing next to him.

    Goddard swung his halberd in a wide arc, unleashing a torrent of fire that forced another group of Frumenti back. Noting that only a few had fallen from that attack, he frowned. It seemed like he had encountered a bunch of particularly tenacious ones. The enemy had probably noticed that their troops weren¡¯t advancing and sent reinforcements.

    His heart sunk as he heard his army slowly being forced back as the men and women he had fought with for decades were falling like flies. Gritting his teeth, Goddard gripped his halberd with both hands and stopped his fiery assault. Swinging it sideways, the axe blade on the long wooden shaft slammed a golden warrior into the blood soaked ground.

    He didn¡¯t bother to finish that unfortunate soul off, knowing that others would deal the finishing blow for him.

    Goddard rammed the butt of his halberd into the helmet of a warrior approaching him from the side, the sharpened metallic end piercing through it. He swung the squirming man into the approaching crowd, hoping to gain a few precious seconds whilst the attackers were catching their brother-in-arms.

    The battle had begun a whole hour ago, but they hadn¡¯t launched a single counterattack yet. The only orders they had received were to hold out until another battalion could help them out.

    Needless to say, their prospects were grim at best. If he had to be honest with himself, Goddard didn¡¯t even know didn¡¯t even know whether general Monroe was still alive. There was no way that he wouldn¡¯t be able to recognize the banner of the infamous Golden Demon, a figure comparable to Monroe in terms of strength, imprinted on the armours of the warriors he had slain.

    He gripped his halberd tighter and stepped forward into the golden flood approaching him. Goddard swung his halberd in wide arcs as soon as they came into his reach, twirling it left and right as he cut down men and women left and right. His swings became faster and faster, until he turned into a vortex of death that turned anything coming in its range into mincemeat.

    Aether pumped through Goddard¡¯s body like furious flood waves. His aether channels were expanding slightly from the strain he was putting them under, and he mentally counted the amount of aether that was draining out of his reserves. At the rate he was going with, he still had around an hour left.

    ¡®More than enough to fuck those golden shitheads up,¡¯ he concluded.

    Goddard smashed, hacked and swept his way deep into the enemy lines, never stopping his relentless advance. He ignored the screams and screeches of his falling enemies as he watched out for any hidden enemies that may approach him from the sides.

    By then, a small gold-red ring of corpses had formed in his wake. He danced around it, always in search for new enemies to slay in order to get the most out of the limited amount of time he had.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    Behind him, the rest of his troop was gathering with him as the spearhead. They unhesitatingly advanced step by step, killing off the weakened or dying enemies that he didn¡¯t immediately kill.

    The axe blade on his halberd sliced through armour like a hot knife through butter, bisecting enemies with a disgusting sound that resembled a screech. It did that multiple times in a second, creating a constant screech that many described as a banshee scream.

    A vibration travelled up his arms as his halberd was deflected off a shield. He pulled it back, eyeing the new aggressor that had appeared in the midst of his enemies.

    A golden helmet in the shape of a bird beak in the heat of the midday sun, reflecting light in a way that could blind unless one used their aether senses just like the rest of the golden armour covering the towering man¡¯s body. He was even taller than Goddard, standing at seven feet tall, and the plain tower shield and mace in his hands were just as oversized as the giant in front of him.

    ¡°What a coincidence. I¡¯d never have imagined that I¡¯d meet the Impregnable Wall today,¡± spat Goddard out as he further increased his aether output.

    The soldiers automatically created a free area around the two famous and valiant warriors, afraid of the effects of butting into this duel. Although they could have chosen to take one of them down by sheer numbers, no one wanted to find out how many people would lose their lives in the attempt.

    Goddard lifted his halberd until its tip was around the same height as his chest, stabbing out with all his strength before his opponent could even open his mouth.

    It was, once again, deflected by a massive shield that quickly advanced with its wielder towards him. Goddard pulled back, shifted his grip and swung the blunt side at the giant, who swiftly ducked under the hasty swing.

    The Wall lifted his mace, slamming it into Goddard¡¯s chest armour.

    He grunted as the massive shock forced him to take a step back, but then grinned under the cover of his helmet. ¡®Gotcha!¡¯ thought as he sent aether into his gauntlets to let them vibrate.

    He sprinted forward and pulled his mace out of his core, slamming it directly slamming it into the Wall¡¯s helmet. It dented with a small creak, but immediately started repairing itself again. Goddard gripped it with both hands, unleashing a barrage of blows infused with enough aether to blind the giant¡¯s sensitive senses. The bird beak became disfigured as it dented in more and more places, but Goddard wasn¡¯t able to hear anything from the massive figure in front of him aside from its eerily calm melody that resembled a still volcano.

    Without any indication of having been hurt by the heavy blows, the Wall tackled Goddard. When they slammed into the bloody and muddy ground, he started barraging Goddard with a series of heavy blows, each powerful enough to rattle his brain.

    Goddard shot a gust of air from the back of his head, shooting his head into the giant¡¯s chest, where he spat a flame directly at the slits in his helmet.

    Then, having gained some breathing room as his enemy was hesitating slightly due to being blinded. he clad himself in a fiery armour, grasping hold of his enemy¡¯s hands.

    ¡°FUCK! YOU!¡± Goddard cursed, spittle flying on the inside of his completely sealed off helmet.

    His heart was pumping wildly, even when his arms were pushed back by the Wall¡¯s seemingly endless strength. His opponent unleashed a fiery stream of air and flames onto his torso and helmet, which started to erode his flame cladding.

    Heat started to permeate Goddard¡¯s armour. He felt it gnawing at his skin, slowly cooking him from the inside.

    It was a familiar feeling since he often sparred with Ophelia, but the fact that his enemy didn¡¯t have any intentions of sparing him if the heat got too much for him only served to motivate him to redouble his efforts.

    With a massive push of aether, he ripped his arms free and shoved the giant off him. His channels creaked and groaned under the stress, enough to send waves of searing pain through Goddard¡¯s body. Groggily checking his reserves, he grimly noted that his action had wasted a tenth of his remaining aether as he scrambled to stand up before his foe did.

    Then he kicked at his struggling enemy, knocking him down once again. The Wall, however, simply pushed itself up with a gargantuan gust of wind, rocketing towards him in the process.

    Goddard ducked under his attack, slamming his elbow into the flying giant as he crashed into the Ardensian ranks. Wasting no time, he turned around, only to see the Wall bursting the head of one of his comrades like a watermelon.

    Goddard threw his halberd like a javelin at his hastily moving enemy. Under his careful control, the halberd accelerated in mid-air, managing to lodge itself into the giant¡¯s arm, penetrating the thick armour.

    Using his connection, he commanded the halberd to return to him before his enemy had a chance to grab it and retrieved his mace, smashing it into the giant¡¯s wounded arm before his foe could recover, shooting a burst of flames into the open wound as well just to be sure.

    A mace slammed into his helmet, strong enough to make the world spin.

    He heard a creaking sound as the metal around his head dented until it was pressed against his cheek. He staggered back unsteadily, putting his shield up to block any further attacks. When Goddard moved his neck, he felt a small stinging pain.

    Lightning fast strikes with the weight of mountains behind them caused him to stagger back time and time again as he counted the amount of time he would need until his helmet was repaired. Aether was rapidly flowing out of his core in a bout to keep him alive, but his reserves were slowly being depleted. He wanted to find a chance to retaliate, but the Wall seemed to have become enraged by his attacks.

    Just as Goddard wanted to avoid a corpse behind him, a shield bash forced him back. He tripped over it, but used a gust of air to stabilize himself before he fell.

    The mace crashed into his chest with a wild screech, in the end still forcing him kiss the ground. The fall knocked some air out of Goddard¡¯s lungs, but he ignored that as he raised his shield once again.

    His shield was slammed aside by another tremendous force, and he felt his brain rattle once more as another blow hit his helmet. Goddard crossed his hands in front of himself, unleashing as much fire as he could onto the giant.

    He needed time to recover. His eyes were ringing from the sheer aether behind the giant¡¯s blows. He wasn¡¯t sure how long his opponent could stay like that, but it was unlikely to be long enough to finish him off. Probably. Hopefully.

    He reinforced the flames with air, aiming it at where he guessed the Wall¡¯s helmet to be. It gave him some time, enough to grab his opponent¡¯s facemask and burn it with the hottest flames in his core, directly into the slits for the eyes.

    The barrage of attacks stopped as the giant instinctively puts its gauntlets to its face, its shield and mace dropping to the ground with loud clangs.

    This was the chance Goddard had waited for. He strained his tired muscles and channels, aether pumping through his body like a furious flood wave.

    The giant was roughly shoved off of him. He summoned his halberd, which flew into his hands. Taking a step back, he started slamming his halberd down on his fallen foe. The sounds of metal screeching and parting echoed through the scream filled air as he worked his way through the Wall¡¯s armour that was even thicker than his.

    He had just managed to crack the other¡¯s armour when the surrounding Frumenti stirred.

    ¡°Sir Wall! We shall rescue you!¡± a group of soldiers styled similarly to the Wall shouted as they rushed over.

    Goddard frowned. The voice sounded young. It seemed like they were from the Golden Gate, just like the Wall himself. He didn¡¯t like killing young people, but he would extinguish their lives nonetheless if they tried to hinder him from doing what he had to.

    He brandished his halberd in front of him when the rest of the Frumenti started closing in on him, too. His Ardensian soldiers also came closer and closer, limiting his range of attacks since he didn¡¯t want to risk friendly fire.

    Before he could get one last strike in, the Wall managed to launch himself to the approaching golden flood with a powerful gust of air.

    ¡°ALESSANDRA DAMMIT!¡± Goddard screamed as he ran in pursuit, felling several Frumenti in the process, but he wasn¡¯t fast enough.

    The soldiers in front of them were like a viscous mass of flesh and blood; no matter how many he cut down, he wasn¡¯t able to reach his goal. He screamed wild curses in rage, the dreams of a hefty reward having slipped from his fingers.

    Soon after, he even saw the Wall¡¯s equipment fly past him, causing him to fly into another fit of rage.

    Once he checked his aether reserves, though, he reluctantly pulled back. There was barely anything left and it wasn¡¯t worth it if he lost his life in a fit of rage.

    Gritting his teeth, he pulled back into his own ranks, grumpily lowering his aether output. As soon as the amount lessened, he could immediately feel the pain in his whole body intensify, especially in the neck and head region. Plus, he probably incurred a few minor burns when the giant had eroded his flame cladding.

    ¡°COME ON LADS AND LASSES!¡± Hanks shouted as the chaotic battle once more embroiled that area.

    Goddard retreated even further, fully intent on restoring his reserves bit by bit. He didn¡¯t know why, but he had a faint inkling that this was going to be a long day. Perhaps longer than he would have liked to be.

 Chapter 5

    John held a hand in front of his mouth as he released a yawn, the wooden chair underneath him creaking as he leaned back with his arms stretching behind his head. He stared at the dimly lit fresco covering the ceiling, where a massive banner composed of a golden sickle and sword crossed over a black background greeted his tired eyes.

    A pale somewhat strangely tinted moonlight shone through the only window in the room, located opposite from his bed. It was, perhaps intentionally so, positioned so that the sunlight would shine directly onto his face when the morning sun rose.

    John could already tell that he would curse that window a lot in the future. Perhaps he should cover it up?

    He shook his head. Ever since he had arrived in his new home, his thoughts had started straying more and more. Not to mention that it had been a long day, filled with all sorts of annoyances and formalities, but it seemed like it had been worth it. After all, he was at least not stinking anymore. Ruffling his now soft and oil-less hair, he stood up and threw himself onto the hard wooden bed that was big enough to accommodate a tall adult.

    He closed his eyes. Now that he was finally alone for once, the reality of the situation was slowly catching up to him. He was in a foreign land, far away from New Pandora. It seemed to be a medieval world with a ridiculously low level of technology, lacking some of the comforts people would have considered basic for a decent standard of human life. Like toothbrushes. Or toilets that didn¡¯t stink to the high heavens.

    And yet, he somehow understood the spoken language here. Furthermore, he was in the body of a child after having stayed in some strange dark place for an indeterminable amount of time.

    John opened his eyes again, turning his head to look out of the closed window. Three moons, one blue, one red and one yellow, were illuminating the night sky. Behind them, thousands upon thousands of glittering stars were piled up in a strange but beautiful formation that resembled many forms. Some banded together to form a shining disk whilst others made a gaseous multi-coloured nebula.

    Together, they shone down from the cloudless night sky that practically invited him to go out and take a breath of fresh air or two.

    The probability of him being in the milky way was horrendously low. He would recognize it otherwise, in one way or the other.

    The mismatched cluster of stars that was in the sky, though, was certainly not part of it. Not to mention the strange colour of the three moons, which, surprisingly, didn¡¯t affect the lighting on the planet he was on. Maybe they just combined perfectly and turned into a normal white light? Or perhaps it had something to do with the mysterious aether John had heard so much about.

    Not to mention that the feeling it gave him was frighteningly close to the one he got from those strange beings he seemed to have heard shortly before waking up in this strange place.

    John had to admit that he didn¡¯t know anything about this new world he had found himself in, and he didn¡¯t like that. If there was one lesson decades of living in a war-torn galaxy had burned into his very soul, then it was that information was crucial in any and every situation.

    Speaking of souls, he still didn¡¯t know why he had suddenly become a small child again. He should, at the very least, have the memories stored inside its brain that could have given him some clues in regards to his identity here. But whenever he tried to remember anything, he came up blank. It was as if someone had erased any and all things concerning the life his body must have had until now.

    Perhaps he had just replaced the old owner of this body? If souls really did exist, then it was very well possible that memories were stored in them. There would, otherwise, be no reasonable explanation for him keeping his memories despite being in a new body.

    ¡®If, and only if that were the case, then who did that?¡¯, John thought. Though he couldn¡¯t deny the pang of guilt he felt whenever he thought of that possibility, it was negligible. After all, it beat being dead by an unlimited amount of times. He had to admit it was selfish, but there was nothing wrong with being selfish. After all, everyone was selfish. It was unreasonable to expect anyone to be a Samaritan when you weren¡¯t any better yourself.

    A sigh escaped his lips as he basked in the strangely comforting moonlight. He stood up, walked through the room and opened the window, inhaling a mouthful of refreshingly cold air.

    His thoughts were too adrift. It would be best if he could focus on doing whatever he could to obtain more information about this new world he was stranded in, but there were so many questions swirling inside his head that he didn¡¯t even know where to begin.

    ¡®What would you have done, old friend?¡¯, he mused.

    Thinking of the havoc his late friend would have caused upon his arrival, John couldn¡¯t help but chuckle. He turned around and dragged a chair from the corner of his room over and placed it in front of the window, promptly proceeding to plop his rear end on it.

    ¡®I guess you would have started a gang or something similar. You always wanted to be someone important, someone that people would read about in history books. Even if it would kill you.¡¯ He released another sigh whilst watching the beautiful moons. Goosebumps had already appeared on his skin from the strange warmth he was receiving from their light. Was this normal? Perhaps. He didn¡¯t know in any case.

    ¡®But I guess you died a happy man, huh? After all, you fucked those bastards from the Alliance over big time. Just the way you said you wanted to die.¡¯

    As he pondered, John couldn¡¯t help but wonder if his late best friend was somewhere out there. After all, if he was able to reincarnate, who said that he couldn¡¯t? Not to mention that he was always an exceptionally tenacious person with a life force exceeding that of a cockroach. If anyone was able to do so, then him.

    John pushed the chair away and went back to his bed. He was probably just deluding himself again. The dead stay dead. John didn¡¯t know how he had been able to defy death, but he was sure that it wasn¡¯t common.

    Derisively laughing at himself, he chided himself for not having gotten over the past yet. He was in a different world with a magic-like force almost in his grasp, but he still couldn¡¯t help but think of the things that had happened in a completely different universe.

    ¡®Pathetic. You should be better than this!¡¯ he screamed inside his mind before wrapping himself in the comfortably cold bed sheets. Closing his eyes, he tried to sleep.

    In the end, it took two hours until he was able to drift off into dreamland.

    <hr>

    ¡°Good Morning, children,¡± an elderly man said.

    He was tall, taller than most people John had seen until now. His completely white hair hung loosely over a set of broad shoulders. A pair of piercing amber eyes carefully watched over the dozen children gathered in small room without windows.

    Despite the lack of fresh air, the room was comfortably warm. Like the other children, John was sitting in a chair that was far too big for him. In front of him was an old wooden table filled with all kinds of marks and scribbles. It reminded John of those old classrooms in the movies in the 20<sup>th</sup> and 21<sup>st</sup> century he had watched, which, if he had to be honest, made him unsure whether he should laugh at the similarity or sigh at the uncanny resemblance.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°Today is the long awaited day we¡¯re going to learn about aether.¡± The old man moved a muscular arm that stood in stark contrast to his elderly appearance and drew some symbols on the massive blackboard spanning over a whole wall. As he turned his back towards them, John was able to observe the dragon with a scar on its face emblazoned on the back of the old man¡¯s white tunic.

    The same dragon was also painted on a metallic emblem that the teacher proudly wore on his chest, causing John to think that it probably a medal of sorts. Underneath the picture, there were also some scribbles too small for John to read. Not that he would be able to understand them, anyway.

    In the last few days it had turned out that those mysterious scribbles were the written language of the country he was now in: Frumentum. John briefly asked himself what this could mean since he was able to speak it just fine, but quickly pushed the thought to the back of his head. He had more than enough time to learn the written language, however long his now far younger brain may take.

    Shortly after that, the same symbols appeared on the upper half of John¡¯s table, which had looked like a normal block of wood before. John quirked an eyebrow at the mismatched level of technology.

    ¡®So they have a table that can display whatever is written on the blackboard, but no real sewerage? Are you fucking kidding me?¡¯

    He looked around, seeing that no one seemed shocked or even remotely curious about the wooden displays. The children around him seemed annoyingly unfazed by it.

    ¡°Aether is a wonderful, omnipresent substance. As you all probably know, warriors use it to strengthen their bodies and create weapons that are capable of driving the beasts and other humans back. Since you have had the qualifications to be accepted into this class, I assume that every single one of you has the potential to become a warrior. As such, I have to warn you to never, and I will repeat it just in case one of you is too stupid to properly listen, NEVER absorb aether from the surroundings, with the exception of your Awakening, of course.¡±

    John leaned forward, the tiredness from not having slept enough instantly disappearing. This was the chance he had been waiting for. Who knows when he would ever have such a lesson that explained the very basics that everyone else seemed to know to him?

    ¡°By the way, which of you have already embarked on the path of a warrior? Everyone who did, stand up.¡±

    Only three stood up, the rest remaining seated. They were fairly unremarkable, seeming like normal children to John. There was nothing that could have made them stand out amongst the crowd. Not even an excessive amount of muscles. Perhaps being a warrior was more about aether than fitness? He would probably find out soon.

    Including him, 9 people didn¡¯t seem to have started doing whatever it was that warriors did yet.

    The elderly teacher nodded, the results seeming to be within his expectations. ¡°Good, now sit down. Everyone else aside from those three will stay here after this class has ended. You shall awaken under my supervision.¡±

    Although John once again didn¡¯t understand, he guessed it was a kind of initiation ceremony that would make him into a true warrior. There was nothing else that could explain the clear rise in mood the whole room had experienced after the teacher¡¯s words.

    The old man went back to the blackboard, drawing the outline of a roughly human figure onto it. Then, he marked the middle of the head with a big dot. ¡°This is where the core is placed. The core is the reason we are able to accumulate aether and cultivate. But right now, it wouldn¡¯t really matter if I explained its special characteristics to you. We will discuss them after all of you have awakened.¡±

    After that, a multitude of fine lines originating from the core were drawn through the whole body. Instead of the initially hollow outline of a human body, it now looked more like a depiction of venous system inside a human if all those veins and arteries were to connect at the brain instead of the heart.

    ¡°These are the so called channels.¡± The old man gently traced one of the many lines. ¡°They are mainly used to transport aether to the various parts of your body, strengthening your body both actively and passively wherever they pass. We call the process of aether slowly but surely strengthening your body permanently Meditation. Giving your body a temporary boost at the cost of immense amounts of aether, however, is called Aether Burst.¡±

    He turned around to face the class. ¡°To be honest, there¡¯s not too much of a difference between them. They¡¯re both basically the same process, with the exception that Aether Bursting consumes far more aether. The amount your body is strengthened is dependent on the quantity of aether you pump through it, as well by how much your channels can handle at that moment of time. Slow but steady Meditation strengthens your body and channels in the long term, whilst Aether Bursting is far more suited to actual combat. Now some of you may ask themselves why Aether Bursting doesn¡¯t strengthen the body too, right?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s quite simple. When you are Meditating the aether is slowly saturating your body, taking its time to restructure it from its very deepest core. By Aether Bursting, however, you pump far more aether in than your body can handle. As such, the excess aether is used as a fuel of sorts that powers your body up far beyond your normal limits.¡±

    The old man swept his piercing eyes through the class once again, checking whether they were properly listening. Seeing that no one was sleeping, he continued with a smile hovering at the edge of his lips, ¡°Of course, it¡¯s not quite as easy as I have explained it, but those details can wait until everyone¡¯s awakened. The lesson will end soon, anyway, since the rest of it will be spent with awakening each of you.¡±

    After saying that, he shooed the children out of the classroom.

    Exiting the classroom in an orderly manner, John soon found himself standing next to a kid with curly black hair. Around them, the kids were chatting in the uniquely annoying way that unnerved John to no end. He had never been able to stand the mischievous and overly energetic nature of children, and that hadn¡¯t changed even though he was now in the body of one himself.

    As such, he simply leaned against the wall whilst anticipating the upcoming Awakening, whatever that may entail. It couldn¡¯t possibly be worse than standing next to a bunch of hyperactive kids.

    The black-haired kid imitated him, crossing his arms in front of his chest and leaning onto one of the walls. Whilst doing, his bangs shifted to cover his eyes. His chaotic mess of a hair sprawled onto a pair of thin shoulders, where it curled up into small rings.

    John sighed internally, having found another outsider like him. He was already way past the age where he could comprehend the thoughts of these little devils, so he had intentionally excluded himself.

    He wasn¡¯t so sure about the kid, though. Perhaps he just seemed strange in their eyes?

    He shook his head for what was probably the hundredth time on that day. It wasn¡¯t his business. Sticking his nose into the affairs of others rarely ended well, so he should just keep his distance.

    It didn¡¯t take long for them to be called into the room again. When John entered, he saw that the tables and chairs had been pushed to the walls, leaving a wide-open space in the middle. The wizened old man was standing in the middle of it, beckoning them to sit down around him.

    Soon, they were arranged in a half-circle around their teacher. ¡°Okay kids. You¡¯re going to do this all at once. Follow my instructions, and I can guarantee that nothing will happen to you,¡± he said. ¡°Well, nothing really serious,¡± he added after a moment of hesitation.

    Ignoring the strange looks the children were sending his way, he clapped his hands and silenced them with a serious look on his face, but the smile hovering at the edge of his lips seemed to have been plastered on his face permanently. ¡°Anyway, let¡¯s start.¡±

    ¡°Do you still remember the time where you had to feel the aether one of the guards released? Try doing the same now. But this time, it will just be the aether in your surroundings.¡±

    The children did as they were told, closing their eyes to feel for the strange substance that they had felt not too long ago. ¡°Okay, now focus on your surroundings. You should, after some time has passed, feel some faint aether scattered in the air.¡±

    John did as he was told, and repeated the process of trying to feel the aether in the air. At first, the only thing he felt was an enormous amount of aether radiating off the old man¡¯s body. But then, as time slowly went by, he realized that there was indeed a small amount of aether scattered in the air. It was faint, but still noticeable if one felt closely.

    A shiver ran down his spine as he felt a warm sensation come from the aether. At the same moment John realized its existence, the aether in the air began slowly moving towards him. He shivered as more and more of it started to surround him, enveloping him from every direction.

    The teacher, noticing that quite a lot of children had already managed to sense aether with a pleased expression, gave them further instructions, ¡°Good, now try to move as much of that aether as you can into your body. Don¡¯t worry, this one time you can absorb as much as you want. It may try to resist a little bit, so remember to not lose concentration.¡±

    John gulped as he felt the mass of aether around him become denser by the moment. He somehow had the feeling that absorbing it wouldn¡¯t be difficult at all, but the fact that it seemed to have a consciousness creeped him out.

    Suppressing his fear, he took a deep breath and tried to manipulate it into seeping into his body.

    The huge mass didn¡¯t resist, wildly rushing into John instead. It stormed into his body from all directions, seeping into his channels until they were about to burst. John only felt a piercing pain erupt from every part of his body as almost all the aether in the whole room forced their way through his channels.

    He didn¡¯t even have the opportunity to scream as he blacked out the moment the crazed mass of aether reached his brain, where it rushed into his core like a starved beast.

 Chapter 6

    John lazily turned around in the comfortable bed he was sleeping on. How long had it been since he last laid on such a comfortable surface? Ages, surely.

    Some person started mumbling a string of incomprehensible words next to him, but he couldn¡¯t be bothered to decipher them. They were probably just there to chase him out, so he should use his time wisely.

    Finishing that half-coherent train of thought, he gripped the soft pillow tighter. Someone shook him roughly, but he ignored it to the best of his abilities. Was it time for him to run away? Perhaps he had stayed here too long, wherever he was. He would probably be able to remember if he just opened his eyelids, but it was as if two blocks of granite rested on them.

    Then, a massive force catapulted him out of his newfound sanctum. His eyes ripped open with a speed he couldn¡¯t have imagined a few moments ago, and he saw the world spinning for a brief moment before hitting the carpeted ground with dull thud.

    Surprisingly, the pain that he expected didn¡¯t come.

    Instead, he blankly stared at the orange ceiling above him as an aged figure stepped into his line of sight. As a familiar pair of amber eyes stared at him, his most recent memories rushed into his head like a tsunami.

    He gulped. Just what had happened for him to fall unconscious? Was that normal or did he do something wrong?

    ¡°Erm, mister?¡± he began, ¡°Did something happen?¡±

    The old man put a thick hand on his cleanly shaven chin. His eyes shone with an odd glint as he scanned John¡¯s body from the bottom to the top. After some time had passed like that, he finally opened his mouth with a smile, ¡°Yes, I guess something did happen. To be exact, you happened.¡±

    John quirked an eyebrow at the old man¡¯s strange words. ¡°Would you care to elaborate?¡±

    ¡°No. Since it seems like you¡¯re fine my job is done.¡± The teacher¡¯s eyes drifted towards the dark brown door. He marched towards it in a fashion that reminded John of an old veteran, stopping just short of pushing the handle down. ¡°That will be all for today. I have already instructed someone to teach you what you need to know, so you don¡¯t have to worry about falling behind the others.¡±

    He opened the door, swiftly stepping through it.

    John slowly let his eyes survey the room he was in, noting the many shelves and beds lined up in it. On the far end, there was a big window that let one see the scenery outside where dozens of small groups could be seen. They seemed to be either training or playing around in the vast area that the Golden Gate occupied.

    The walls and ceiling were painted in a warm orange, somehow complementing the white beds and brown shelves located in the room.

    Overall, it gave off quite the clean impression, not unlike that of an infirmary. Since there were no people in the room, he guessed that it was fortunately not used often. Although the question of where the nurse was arose, John guessed that he or she probably had something to do right now.

    Now that John was alone again, he stood up and plopped onto the flawlessly white bed he had fallen off of. Embracing the pillow, he closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep.

    ¡°Brat! You have guts, that¡¯s something I have to admit,¡± a gruff voice hissed from behind him.

    John slowly opened his eyes, wondering how someone could have gotten so close to him without his notice. After all, the door had not opened in this short period of time, and he hadn¡¯t found any signs of anyone else staying in this room during his cursory glance.

    ¡°How long has it been since the last time a little kid like you has dared to sleep in my infirmary? Far too long, I guess, since even a snotty little brat like you dares to do so,¡± the voice continued. John heard some rustling, and the next time the voice spoke it was right above his ear, ¡°I suggest you fuck off before I send you flying, brat.¡± A warm breath tickled his ear, but he wasn¡¯t in the mood to laugh.

    John slowly nodded and got off the bed with the fastest speed he could muster. Whilst doing so, he came to face the owner of the gruff voice. It was a dainty young woman, barely around her 30s. A pair of ravenous blue eyes staring at him like a predator stood in stark contrast to her kindly, round face. As she crossed her arms in front of her chest, her hazel hair cascaded down her shoulders like a small waterfall.

    ¡°What¡¯cha staring at, huh? Have you never seen a nurse before?¡± She quirked an eyebrow at him, gesturing for him to hurry up.

    John, still shocked at the disparity between the voice and the body it came from, hurriedly walked out of the room. Realizing that he had no clue in regards to which direction he should go to, he absentmindedly stared at the empty but spacious hallway he found himself in.

    He scratched his head. As he had no intentions of returning to the infirmary, he had no choice but to walk into a random direction in hopes of meeting someone who could tell him just where he was.

    As he strolled through the hallway, he couldn¡¯t help but marvel at the strange uniformity of his surroundings. The walls were perfectly even, and even the windows were placed at intervals that illuminated the hallway perfectly, with not even one blemish on them.

    He ran a finger over the glass, watching as he left visible oily marks on it. The wooden frames holding the window together were well polished, completely unlike the planks used at the inn he stayed at.

    He wasn¡¯t sure if that was normal back in those ancient times, but he had to admit that he found it fairly impressive considering the tools that the people here had at their disposal. Or maybe he was just looking down on them too much.

    As he was staring through the window, he noticed that, no matter where he looked, a truly titanic shadow of what he presumed to be a wall was faintly visible. By his admittedly unreliable estimation, he guessed it to be around the height of a twenty to thirty story house ¨C something which should be utterly impossible for this time. The sheer amount of resources necessary to build such a wall of such colossal proportions would be mind boggling, even if it only surrounded the city he was in.

    Ever since he came here, more and more seemingly impossible things had appeared in front of him. The somewhat yellow outline of the city wall, though, was even more outrageous than the golden fence and bricks he had encountered before.

    ¡®Where the hell did they get the material for it from? And why doesn¡¯t this damned thing crumble under its own weight?¡¯ The more John looked at it, the more confused he became. It probably had something to do with that strange substance called aether, but he couldn¡¯t discern how it would be able to accomplish this.

    Deciding that he seriously needed to start gathering information as soon as possible, he continued walking.

    A few minutes later, he finally reached a large hall, where he saw a few middle-aged men and women laze about in comfortable couches. As soon as he stepped into it, their conversations stopped and two dozen heads whipped around to face him.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Feeling the pressure they emitted, John had trouble breathing normally. ¡®What the hell is wrong with this place? Why are all the grownups here so damn scary?!¡¯ Fortunately, the pressure vanished as quickly as it appeared when they saw his childish appearance.

    One of the women, a tall and muscular lady dressed in a plain grey tunic, walked over to him. She bowed down until she was only slightly bigger than John, who had to desperately restrain himself from staring directly into her cleavage. ¡°Hello there. My name¡¯s Franziska, what¡¯s yours?¡± she inquired gently, as if he were a small animal she was afraid to scare.

    John, seeing that she was quite friendly, instantly relaxed. He smiled at her as childishly as he could manage. ¡°John,¡± he responded.

    ¡°Are you lost?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I have gotten lost whilst searching for the student dorms. My room number is 111. Would you be so kind as to show me the way?¡±

    Franziska¡¯s smile stiffened at his words. She had come forward to help him out of curiosity since he was attracting all the aether in the surroundings, but it seemed like she had met quite the strange one. No kid his age would speak like this. In fact, the way he spoke was more refined even when compared to some adults she knew. To top it off, even his mannerisms didn¡¯t fit. He didn¡¯t have the boundless vitality that normal warrior children had. If she had to be honest it creeped her out, but he seemed genuinely lost.

    ¡®Judging by his room number, he must be one of the new recruits. Thankfully I know where that is,¡¯ she thought to herself. ¡°Of course. But you know what, I¡¯ll escort you there!¡± she replied in a similarly childish tone.

    John internally cringed at her actions, but cheerfully nodded nonetheless. He was sure that he wasn¡¯t pulling the child act off very well, but she was even worse.

    ¡°Guys, I¡¯m gonna escort him back. I¡¯ll be back in a jiffy,¡± she informed the other people lounging on the couches before walking into one of the many hallways connected to the room.

    John followed her slow, unhurried gait as he ignored the interested gazes of the people around him. Having caught up to her, he joined her and tried to adjust his pace to hers. Being a child had many disadvantages, and one he could never cease being annoyed at were the small legs.

    ¡°So,¡± she started after they had walked for quite a distance, ¡°I guess you are new here?¡±

    ¡°Yes. How did you know?¡±

    ¡°I guess you don¡¯t know what Aethereal Auras are?¡±

    ¡°No, but it probably has something to do with aether, right?¡±

    Franziska sighed. It seemed like he really had awakened just recently, otherwise he¡¯d already know the basics. She had never even heard of such a unique aura before, not to mention the ramifications of such a special constitution. After all, a constant attraction of aether could be quite fatal if one tried to hide. Not to mention that absorbing too much of the aether in your surroundings would drive the person in question crazy.

    She stared at the skinny face of the small child next to her. He was probably a street rat that had been turned in not too long ago, so it was only reasonable that he didn¡¯t know too much about warriors in general.

    ¡°Okay then. Let big sis teach you!¡± She beamed at him. Having always looked up to her teacher, it was her dream to be able to be able to bear the honour of teaching the next generation. Normally, it would take years of specialized patience training to even be let near a class of recruits, but now she was able to get a taste of what it was like, even if it was with a weird kid.

    ¡°You see, once you pass a certain stage you¡¯ll be able to sense the aether around you. There are a variety of ways to do so like seeing or hearing-¡°

    ¡°Wait, you can actually hear aether? How is that supposed to work?¡± John interjected, eliciting a casual slap to the back of his head that almost blew him off his feet.

    ¡°I am talking now. Who allowed you to interrupt me?¡± Franziska reprimanded him with the sternest voice she could muster.

    John simply placed a hand on the spot he was hit on and suppressed the swelling tears to the best of his ability. She was insanely strong. That casual slap had almost caused him to cry, which was already shameful enough in of itself. ¡®Damn this childish body of mine!¡¯ He wasn¡¯t sure whether or not she intended for her blow to hurt that much, but he now sure had a newfound respect for her inhuman power.

    Thinking about the question that she knew he would ask, she placed a finger on her chin in deep thought. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t think that¡¯s something you can describe in words. It would probably be as useful to you as describing what colours look like to a blind person. There¡¯s just no way you¡¯d be able to understand it. It¡¯s different for everyone, really. Some hear auras as melodies whilst others can smell it from hundreds of metres away.¡±

    ¡°But I¡¯m able to feel aether if I concentrate anyway, so what¡¯s the big deal about being able to sense them?¡±

    ¡°Your aether senses are far more useful. Just think about it: Where would you find the time to sit down and concentrate for a few minutes in a chaotic battlefield? Aether senses can be activated quite quickly and don¡¯t take too much concentration. Furthermore, they can help you in performing magic when you get used to them. But I guess this doesn¡¯t really matter to you right now. You should be quite far away from even thinking of something like magic.¡±

    ¡°Magic? What do you mean with that?¡±

    Franziska contemplated whether she should answer that question, but decided not to. In her bliss at finally being able to teach someone, she had forgotten that randomly teaching children was heavily frowned upon, not to mention that she could be heavily punished if word ever got out.

    She shuddered at the consequences. ¡°No, I think that was more than enough for today. Since I think you¡¯re quite a smart kid, why not think about it yourself?¡±

    John let those words sink in. He would eventually be able to perform magic, whatever that was, anyway. Going by what all kinds of novels told him, it had to have something to do with bending or even breaking the laws of nature. The methods of doing so, however, were completely beyond him.

    There were more possibilities than he cared to count, and it wouldn¡¯t do him any good if he went through them one by one, anyway. Furthermore, he still had no clue in regards to how one manipulated aether. Although he had apparently awakened, it didn¡¯t seem like he would instinctively gain control of that mysterious substance.

    Before he could ask her about methods of aether manipulation, he noticed that they had already arrived in the student¡¯s dorm.

    The moment the students lingering in the hallway spotted them, all the conversations quickly died down. Every single student he saw tried to look as inconspicuous and busy as possible, most even scurrying away into other hallways.

    The thing that truly shocked John, however, was that the rooms of men and women seemed to be next to each other. Did they really not care about the risk of teen pregnancies or did these things just not happen here? Judging by the fearful expressions on the faces of the students he observed he judged it was the latter.

    ¡°Well, I think this is as far as I will accompany you. As you can see, my very presence frightens the children,¡± Franziska, who had stopped, told him. ¡°If you ever need further assistance just ask for me and I will be more than glad to help you out.¡±

    John hesitated whether he should ask her, but decided not to. For now, at least. He could contact her at any time, after all. Plus, she seemed really hurried. ¡®She probably still has lots of things to do. I should bother her at a later time.¡¯

    ¡°Thank you for all your help,¡± John sincerely thanked her. He did know that Franziska was most likely just doing her job, but that didn¡¯t change his good impression of her. She didn¡¯t seem to be a bad person, as far as he had discerned.

    ¡°Excuse me, are you John?¡± a boy shouted from behind him. It was the lone black haired boy from his class.

    ¡°I am? What do you want? I¡¯ve got something to do right now just so you know.¡±

    ¡°Well, our teacher has instructed me to share the information he imparted to us in the last few days. He told me to wait for you here, and so I did.¡± A pair of twinkling blue eyes stared at Franziska incredulously, but the boy¡¯s lips stayed in a thin line.

    ¡°Well, since it seems like you¡¯ve already got someone capable watching over you, I¡¯ll be on my way. Like I said, you can go look for me anytime!¡± Franziska gently told both despite the sentence obviously being directed at John.

    The two boys bade her goodbye once more, one still openly staring at her and another one futilely trying to figure out how to best draw every last bit of information from her the next time they met.

    When she rounded a corner, John finally turned to face the now smirking child. ¡°I hope this will be worthwhile,¡± he muttered under his breath as he closed in on his room. The black-haired boy followed him.

    ¡°Oh, believe me it will. After all, you¡¯ve been out cold for an entire week. I¡¯ve already been worried that you¡¯ve died, but it seems like you¡¯re even healthier than before.¡±

    John stopped.

    ¡°Wait, what? You¡¯re telling me that I¡¯ve been in a coma for a week!¡± John shouted loud enough for all the people in the hallway to hear him. He felt a few curious stares bore at the back of his head, but right now he had more important things to care about.

    ¡®Damn that old man! I knew he was hiding something from me!¡¯ John cursed internally as he realized that his teacher had deliberately hidden information from him.

    ¡°Well, yeah. Anyway, I¡¯d prefer discussing this in private. I don¡¯t really like the attention we¡¯re getting.¡±

    John nodded and pulled the keys to his room out of his pocket. He had fortunately not lost them. ¡°Then let¡¯s go into my room. I think we have a lot of things to discuss.¡±

 Chapter 7

    Cultivation.

    Craved by many, but achievable by few. The few chosen able to practice it are reverently called warriors, in honour of their unceasing sacrifice for the continued existence of humanity.

    It is the process culminating aether in your core, using it to achieve feats that defy the laws of energy conversation and physics by directing an unceasing amount of aether into your body, refining and strengthening it far beyond the natural limits of the human body.

    They say that, if one were to reach heights that only a handful of people in the history of humanity have achieved, aether would course your veins and one would be able to have a body comparable to that of a god.

    At least that¡¯s how John would sum the black-haired boy¡¯s, whose name was Ronnie as he had found out, lecture up. He wasn¡¯t sure whether he should believe these obviously grotesquely exaggerated stories, but judging by the fact that there was a magical substance called aether in the very air around him there had to be at least a kernel of truth in his words. Or so he hoped.

    What surprised him the most about the lesson, though, was that he didn¡¯t really have anything against Ronnie, even though he was an annoying kid. He sometimes seemed slightly strange, but who didn¡¯t have a quirk or two, really? Not to mention that he was a good source of information about this world he knew absolutely nothing about.

    And, most importantly, not headache inducingly hyperactive.

    A pair of eyes bearing the same colour as a clear summer sky was attentively watching him, who had just asked for some time to digest the newly gained information. John ignored them and stared at his thick and calloused hands. Rubbing one of them with rapt attention, he continued thinking about the impact this information could have on his life.

    But first, he would have to find the answer to a question that nagged at the deepest recesses of his mind. His dark brown eyes whipped up to meet that of his fellow classmate. ¡°Why is the Golden Gate gathering warrior children? How are they even gathering them without interference of other powers? Shouldn¡¯t kids like us be quite important?¡±

    Ronnie scratched his curly hair. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know? If you really want that question answered, I guess you could ask our teacher tomorrow.¡±

    John facepalmed. What was he doing, asking some random kid about things it couldn¡¯t possibly know about? He was getting old. Well, his mind was.

    ¡°Anyway,¡± Ronnie resumed his lecture, ¡°I guess that it¡¯s now time to tell you about how you go about cultivation.¡±

    The kid, who seemed to be around the same age as John, dragged himself a bit closer to him, as if his next words were of utmost importance. ¡°Have you inspected your core yet?¡± he whispered, a playful smirk lighting his slightly chubby face up.

    John decided to play to the other¡¯s childish antics and responded in kind, ¡°No. How do you do that?¡±

    ¡°Well, you sit down and concentrate on your mind. And them BAM-¡° Ronnie simulated an explosion with his hands. ¡°You are inside your core. Or at least that¡¯s how I understood it.¡±

    Suppressing the exasperation in his heart, John tried to not despair at the fact that he had once again seriously expected a detailed and useful explanation from a small child. The shit eating grin on his face didn¡¯t really help, either.

    He breathed in and out slowly, closing his eyes in an attempt to search for his core, however one may go about that.

    ¡°Oh, and if you¡¯ve done it, just think about creating something in it. A block of wood or whatever will already do,¡± Ronnie added.

    ¡°What do you mean with that? I can actually create things in my core?¡±

    ¡°Yes? The stuff you create makes even more aether, so you can make even more stuff with it! It¡¯s like an endless aether machine.¡±

    John nodded, concentrating even harder on finding his core.

    A long time passed, and nothing happened. John was already starting to feel like an idiot when he finally managed to grasp something. When he had almost given up, relaxing himself in the process, he was able to sense some sort of mental connection inside his head. It was a peculiar feeling that was similar to a slight tug at his mind. He felt that, if he wanted to, he could easily follow the tug into wherever it would lead him.

    He did exactly that, and the world went dark for a brief moment.

    When John came to, he found himself floating in the middle of a strange circular space. A grey fog permeated the region, with only darkness beyond that.

    He waved his arms around the mist, watching it swirl around in fascination. John had imagined many things when Ronnie had talked about the core, but this was definitely not included in them. Was this some sort of virtual region? A trick his mind was playing on him? And what happened to his body whilst he was inside? Furthermore, did time here pass normally?

    There were far more questions than answers, so he focused on the task at hand again.

    Remembering the words of his tutor of sorts, he imagined creating a wooden plank. In his mental picture, it was similar to the ones back on New Pandora, finely polished with a certain gleam on the surface that indicated something John had long since forgotten.

    The fog reacted to his mind, flowing from the whole space to form a plank exactly the same as he had imagined.

    When he looked around, he realized that the fog had become somewhat thinner. With the consumption of the fog, the brightness of the space he was in had also become somewhat dimmer, but strangely enough it didn¡¯t affect his vision one bit. He was somehow able to see clearly, without any obstruction. John was even able to look behind the wooden plank, of which he could clearly see every single fibre of.

    Deciding that he had inspected the plank for long enough, he commanded it to fly up to the darkness surrounding that space. It followed his mental commands, bouncing off at the spot where the fog and darkness intersected.

    John wanted to walk towards it, but instead of a well-placed step on thin air he found himself shooting through the empty space. A scream that he couldn¡¯t even hear escaped his lips. He crashed into the invisible barrier.

    There was no pain. John opened his eyes, carefully knocking on it, then hitting it with his fists after seeing no reaction. He continued in this way, but no matter where he touched or hit it, the invisible wall seemed indestructible. Even when he imagined shattering it, the wall didn¡¯t budge.

    Sighing in resignation, he imagined another few planks into being until the fog had nearly run out.

    Seeing the strange sight of fog forming material once again, John couldn¡¯t help but wonder how this process worked? Just what was aether to be able to produce matter?

    No matter how much he wracked his mind around this topic, he couldn¡¯t find a logical conclusion. Feeling the firsts signs of a headache, John decided to let the matter drop. Instead, he watched the plank carefully in search of any hints.

    After staring at it for some time, he saw a faint white fog streaming out of the whole plank into all directions. Just like the aether that the guard had released a few days ago, it evenly dissolved into its surroundings. The process, however, was painfully slow. Even after a few minutes, the amount that was released seemed like a tiny droplet compared to the vastness of his core.

    Since he didn¡¯t want to spend hours staring at a wooden plank, John exited that strange space by once again following the mental tug, finding himself face to face with Ronnie. He was in the same position as before, making it seem as if no time had passed.

    Taking a deep breath, John had to forcibly suppress the maniacal smile that threatened to split his face into halves. If this core worked the way he thought it did, then its possibilities were endless. His possibilities were endless.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°Ronnie.¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°Does the fog-¡°

    ¡°You mean aether?¡±

    ¡°So that stuff is aether? That would explain a lot. Anyway, how long does it normally take for the aether inside to refill?¡±

    Ronnie stared at him as if he were an idiot. ¡°Well, duh. How the hell am I supposed to know that? It¡¯s not like I know what¡¯s going on inside your core.¡±

    ¡°Then how long does it take for you?¡±

    ¡°Uhhh around a day I guess? But I wouldn¡¯t get my hopes up if I were you. Our teacher told me that my rate is quite fast for someone who had cultivated as long as I did.¡±

    John put a hand on his chin. ¡°Then what about the strange barrier around my core? Am I somehow able to remove it?¡±

    ¡°Yes, you can. You just have to imagine the darkness receding from your core space, making it so that you have more space available. But doing so is quite costly if you ask me, since every single bit of cleared space requires a huuuge amount of aether.¡±

    John couldn¡¯t suppress the smile anymore. He half glared half smiled at Ronnie, who, oddly enough, didn¡¯t seem fazed by it. ¡°Is there anything I can¡¯t create?¡±

    ¡°Well, it is said that, if you have enough aether at hand, nothing is impossible inside your core. I¡¯m not too sure about that though, since I¡¯ve never even heard of somebody creating life. Just imagine the consequences of one being actually able to do that!¡±

    Ronnie suddenly stood up, starting to pace around the room.

    ¡°R-Ronnie? What¡¯s going on?¡± John called out to him, but it seemed like his words didn¡¯t get through to the quickly moving boy.

    For quite some time, only the sound of his shoes tapping on the wooden boards could be heard as the child didn¡¯t say anything and John decided to just sit and watch. Then, Ronnie stopped just in front of John. His arms latched onto a pair of bony shoulders with lightning speed, shaking them intensely along with their owner as he shouted,

    ¡±It would mean that all of this-¡° Ronnie let go of John and sprinted over to the window, ripping it open and gesturing at the garden outside. ¡°Could be happening inside someone else¡¯s core! That we could all just be little pawns being manipulated by an almighty being?¡±

    The boy gripped his head with his hands, once more pacing around the room. ¡°What if, in reality, only this continent existed? The moons could just be illusions, just like the sun. That would certainly prove the theory of the planet staying in the same place whilst every other celestial body is just cycling us¡­¡±

    He continued rambling, leaving a stupefied John to stare at the most certainly strange boy. How old was he? Certainly not much older than John himself, probably around five to six years old. The scene he was experiencing right now shouldn¡¯t even have been possible since that boy¡¯s brain shouldn¡¯t be that developed yet. And yet the theories he was spewing out his mouth were proving him wrong.

    Even he, a modern person with advanced knowledge who had suddenly found himself in a new world, hadn¡¯t thought about seemingly inconsequential things like that this seriously.

    Perhaps he had taken all of this just too casually.

    John¡¯s eyes began to shine as he thought about the perks of having someone like that as a friend. He stood up and approached his rapidly moving temporary teacher, gripping his right shoulder in order to prevent him from ignoring him.

    He knew that trying to speak to that kind of person would be meaningless. The only way he could make his presence known whilst the other was ruminating like that would be establishing physical contact.

    Sure enough, Ronnie turned around faster than John could even see, exposing his sky-blue eyes that were filled with a tinge of madness. Ronnie grabbed both of John¡¯s shoulders in turn, leaning in so close that their noses almost touched. ¡°Do you understand? This, this is why one can¡¯t create life in one¡¯s core! It isn¡¯t, no shouldn¡¯t be possible, right? RIGHT?¡±

    John shoved a hand between them, pushing the other boy away. He had already guessed that something like that would happen, but that didn¡¯t make it any better. Plus, the spittle on his face was gross.

    Not that he minded Ronnie¡¯s antics too much, for that matter. Over his long past life, he had met many other weird people, some of them easily topping this kid in terms of weirdness. But he could understand why other children would avoid him. Hell, even he would have avoided him had he been reincarnated a few years ago.

    ¡®Ahh the joys of a hobo¡¯s life.¡¯ John shook his head. This wasn¡¯t the time to reminisce about that dark chapter of his life.

    ¡°Yes yes I do.¡± John almost wanted to ask him about the other questions about cultivation he had, but figured that it would be a bad idea to give this kid ideas based on advanced knowledge. Who knows what kind of things he could do with that?

    John didn¡¯t want to live to experience the things that boy could potentially unleash on this planet, and most certainly didn¡¯t want to be responsible for the creation of another monster.

    ¡°Anyway, can you somehow use the items you¡¯ve created?¡± John asked. Although he had already seen George do the very same, it was better to be sure.

    Ronnie didn¡¯t say anything, just stretching a hand with crisscrossing scars out.

    At first, nothing happened, but then a small rock occupying half of Ronnie¡¯s palm suddenly appeared in the previously empty hand. There was no indication of it having been shoved there, not even the sound of the air being pushed away that one may expect from teleportation.

    John closed his eyes, taking a long, deep breath. This was what he had searched for: A way to use his knowledge to its utmost. And with the abilities of his core, he was sure that creating deadly weapons that far surpass the current medieval ones wouldn¡¯t be too hard.

    This theory, however, had yet to be proved.

    With unceasing trembling John slowly moved his hands over the still rock, taking it into his hands. It was smooth and comfortably warm, as if it had just sat in the warm midday sun for a few hours. The barely noticeable weight indicated it wasn¡¯t dense. He further moved it closer towards himself, sniffing the rock. He didn¡¯t smell anything from it aside from his own stench.

    Ronnie snatched it back just as he was about to lick it, preventing him from getting an insight as to how detailed creations inside one¡¯s core were. ¡°Hey! I was still inspecting it!¡±

    Ronnie stared at him as if he were biological unrecyclable trash, holding the rock protectively in his hands. ¡°You¡¯re strange.¡±

    ¡°You too.¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯re even stranger!¡±

    ¡°Says the kid who thinks about things that no one his age should be able to!¡±

    ¡°What? Was that an insult, huh!?¡±

    ¡°Shut it kids, before I make you!¡± a voice interrupted them.

    John stopped in his tracks as he realized who the owner of the voice was and where it came from. Like a wooden puppet, he mechanically turned his head towards the open door, where his teacher leaned on the doorframe. Though his face was mostly neutral, he could see a hint of a smile dancing at the old man¡¯s lips.

    ¡°You know, had it been anyone but me you¡¯d have been asked if you were crazy for thinking about such stupid ideas, Ronnie. I guess that¡¯s also the reason you¡¯ve landed in my group.¡± Their teacher walked into the room, his eyes rapidly darting around as they took every little detail in. Finally, they stopped on John. ¡°You know, I¡¯d never expected to have two weirdos in my group, not to mention of such a calibre.¡±

    The old man¡¯s steps sounds ceased to echo through the now deadly silent room. He fixated them with a smile, and then laughed to himself in a way that just creeped John out, turning around and leaving the room just as quickly as he had come.

    When the door slowly closed by itself, John finally recovered from his shock. He didn¡¯t know why, but the old man had sent shivers down his spine. ¡°Is he always like this?¡± he asked his companion, who was still blankly staring at the door.

    Ronnie snapped out of his trance, a shiver visibly travelling from the roots of his hair down to the tip of his toes. He shook his head and turned to face John. ¡°To be honest, I don¡¯t know. In the few chances I¡¯ve had to speak with him, he always had that strange smile on his face. Actually it¡¯s the same as the one he¡¯s had on our Awakening ceremony, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s just hope that damne-¡°

    Ronnie¡¯s had clamped around his mouth before John could finish his sentence. He looked at his companion questioningly, but the other just nervously looked around the room whilst holding a finger up to his lips.

    ¡°If I were you, I¡¯d rather not complete that sentence,¡± he finally whispered after he had ascertained that no one had overheard them. Even though it was just the two of them in the room.

    John quirked an eyebrow, pointing at his friend¡¯s fingers that had become white due to the pressure they clamped around his mouth with.

    Ronnie released him immediately, but instead of retreating he came even closer, until John could feel a warm breath tickle his ear. It gave him goose bumps, but he decided to treat it as a childish antic. He did start to wonder about Ronnie¡¯s sense of personal space though. ¡°They say that he hears everything that happens in all of Golden Gate, no matter where you are.¡±

    ¡°Pffffhahahahah¡±

    Ronnie pouted when he saw John laughing at him. ¡°Okay then, try it! I dare you!¡±

    Hearing that, John laughed even harder. Wiping a tear off a his eyes, he shouted, ¡°Okay then, let¡¯s try it. Let¡¯s just hope that damned t-¡°

    ¡°¡°Troubadour telling false stories about our esteemed teacher in his favourite pub dies a tragic death¡±, is what you wanted to say, right?¡± the voice of his teacher completed the sentence for John.

    He had somehow appeared behind a curtain, stepping out to face them with his trademark half smile. A pressure that that was threatening to crush John and Ronnie was emanating off him. John¡¯s knees were trembling, nearly giving in, but he barely held on by sheer force of will.

    The pressure vanished as quickly as it had appeared, causing both boys to stumble forward.

    ¡°Y-yeah. That¡¯s exactly what I wanted to say. How dare he spread lies about our teacher!¡± Ronnie quickly shouted whilst John was still blankly staring at the curtain their teacher stepped out from.

    The old man with an eerie smile nodded repeatedly, saying, ¡°Good, good. It¡¯s nice to know that my students care so much about my reputation. Although it¡¯s actually a she, but I guess you didn¡¯t know that.¡±

    He glanced one last time at his trembling students and promptly went out of the room for the second time, his steps echoing through the apparently silent hallway outside.

    They waited for a few more minutes, until they couldn¡¯t hear his steps anymore before they moved again. John¡¯s head robotically moved around the room, surveying every little nook and cranny someone could have hid in.

    He rushed up to the curtain, only to discover that there was no such thing as a trapdoor underneath it. It looked like a completely normal wall, and after he knocked on it he realized that it wasn¡¯t hollow in any way. He repeated the process for every object in his room, including the underside of his bed, but didn¡¯t manage to find anything suspicious.

    Defeated, John sat down on the floor, his legs pulled up to his chest and blankly staring out of the window. Ronnie settled down next to him, mimicking his posture.

    ¡°Hey, you know what Ronnie?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°We have the best teacher in the world.¡±

    ¡°... Yeah, we do.¡±

 Chapter 8

    A loud gong that reverberated through John¡¯s entire being shook his room. He groaned, the brief amount of sleep he had gotten having been far from satisfying the needs of his growing body.

    The gongs became faster and louder, until even John couldn¡¯t ignore it anymore. By now they were causing his entire vision to slightly shake, and his eardrums were close to bursting due to the immense strain placed on them. His eyes ripped open, and he stumbled out of his bed.

    The moment his feet hit the ground outside the bed, the gongs stopped. John heaved a relieved sigh, opting not to go into the cuddly warm bed again. It would only cause the gongs to come back.

    He ambled towards the washroom, splashing himself awake with a handful of cold water from a bucket next to the toilet. Somewhat awake now, he walked over to one of the small shelves next to his bed. Pulling the same tunic he had worn yesterday out, he slowly clothed himself.

    Once he completed his sloppy work, he started stretching his entire body; a habit that had crossed over from his past life.

    Satisfied with not having heard any crackling sounds, John licked the rough surface of his teeth with his tongue, only now realizing that he could just as well have created a toothbrush instead of some useless wooden planks. He sighed and opened the door, joining the small stream of children moving towards the classrooms.

    Hearing the lively chitchat of the kids around him, he yawned to his heart¡¯s content.

    Soon, he found himself in front of an opened set of plain, undecorated wooden doors that had the number 1 inscribed on them with golden letters. Entering the classroom, he nodded towards Ronnie, who was sitting in the front row, and took his place himself on one of the dozen desks in the room. He was in the middle of the middle row, and as such perfectly capable of both sleeping and listening attentively if he wished so.

    It didn¡¯t take long until the other students filed in and plopped their butts on their respective chairs. Hushed conversations started around the whole room, and John observed the separate cliques that had already formed after just ten days. If there was one thing children were good at, then it would have to be forming cliques with lightning speed.

    Finally, their teacher came in with his trademark smile plastered on his face. The conversations instantly died down as the old man walked to the front of the desk intended for storing his belongings.

    He clapped twice and picked a piece of chalk up from the desk, drawing a set of scribbles on the blackboard. ¡°Today you are going to learn how to practice cultivation. I know that you¡¯ve already learned how to create things inside your core and make them produce aether, but that¡¯s only the very first step. Today, I¡¯m going to teach you about real cultivation.¡±

    ¡°First of all would, of course, be Meditation. It is Meditation that enables the most basic feats that normal people could only ever dream of.¡±

    ¡°You Meditate by letting the aether in your core flood into your channels, keeping it to a level where your channels are only slightly stretching from the amount you circulate. How much that takes is dependent on your talent. Be careful to keep the circulations slow, so that it can properly seep into every part of your body.¡±

    The old man snapped his fingers, causing all of the tables in the room to start floating. John felt himself getting roughly pushed out of his chair. He landed on his knees and looked up, seeing what used to be his chair and desk float into the corners of the room, where they landed next to each other, forming a seamless whole.

    ¡°Sit down, each of you,¡± their teacher commanded.

    The children complied, and John himself sat down with both legs stretched out.

    ¡°Now focus on your core, but don¡¯t enter it. Command the tug you feel to do to your bidding, which in this case is to circulate aether through your whole body.¡±

    John closed his eyes and did as he was told. He searched for the tug, feeling that it still seemed to be at the same ¡°place¡±. He ordered it to circulate aether into his whole body, and the second he did a small stream of dark grey fog streamed into his parched-up channels. It stormed through them, filling his whole body with a slightly warming feeling.

    By the time it reached his core again, about a tenth of it had been used up. John slowed the speed down, observing the constantly lessening amount of returning aether. The more he slowed the circulation speed down, the lesser the amount of aether entering his body and the more his whole body seemed to heat up.

    He increased the aether output. The warmth in his whole body increased, enveloping him from the tips of his toes every strand of his hair.

    It was comfortable, almost similar to a warm bath. John groaned and increased the output further.

    Goosebumps appeared on his whole body. His hairs were standing on their ends, and the all-encompassing warmth had begun to even heat the core of his very being up.

    But just as quickly as it had come, the feeling vanished, leaving him behind in the cold reality. His aether had run dry, and the amount trickling out of his core was pitiful compared to his consumption rate. For a moment, John was tempted to do everything he could to make the comfortable feeling continue.

    He restrained himself in the last moment. John licked his lips as he looked down at his trembling hands. A shiver ran down his spine as he recalled the trance he had fallen into. It was mortifying how quickly he had lost control.

    Decades of living, and it had only amounted to this much? Was his abundant life experience really not enough to withstand that little bit of warmth? This sensation was close to nothing compared to the drugs he had received during his time in the military.

    And yet, John couldn¡¯t help but crave for more. It had been fortunate that his aether had run out the moment it did, otherwise he would probably have become even more addicted without even realizing it.

    He closed his eyes again, slowly breathing in and out. It seemed like Meditation wasn¡¯t as harmless as it sounded. He would have to be more cautious of losing himself in the pleasure next time he did so.

    His eyes snapped open as he looked at the other children, some of which were similarly shivering in pleasure. John felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. The smiles floating at the corner of their lips, the sweat accumulating on their skin; It reminded him of things he didn¡¯t want to think about.

    Fortunately or unfortunately, it seemed like he had been the first one to wake up. John glanced at the teacher, but upon seeing the gravely serious expression on his face, he quickly averted his gaze.

    Gulping, he tapped into the tug at his mind and checked his aether levels. Taught to him by Ronnie, it was a handy ability for checking on the amount of pure aether you had in your core. It didn¡¯t measure the materials inside it, but Ronnie had assured him that he would eventually be taught that skill as well. Just not by him.

    John, feeling that there was no aether left, heaved a somewhat defeated sigh. Although it was in this case fortunate that his aether regeneration was far behind that of the others the fact that the rest of his group was capable of Meditating far longer than him was somewhat depressing.

    ¡®Well, I guess I just had a late start. I¡¯ll catch up soon enough.¡¯

    He continued breathing rhythmically until the teacher woke him up with a loud snap of his fingers that reverberated through the whole room just like a certain hateful gong. John¡¯s eyes snapped open, staring at his teacher, who was just as serious as he was when he last peeked at him. It was an odd experience, seeing his normally carefree teacher completely serious for once.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°So, what was it like?¡± the old man asked with a chill in his voice.

    ¡°It was amazing! How come none of the other adults have told us about how great Meditating was?¡± a skinny redheaded girl next to John shouted in response with reddened cheeks and irregular breathing. A pair of amber eyes expectantly stared at the old man in front of her.

    ¡°Yes, Jessica, why didn¡¯t they? Since Meditating is so amazing, don¡¯t you think that we should stay cooped up in our rooms all day and enjoy it as long as possible? After all, we can substitute food and water with aether. So why have you not seen anyone do that yet?¡±

    It didn¡¯t take half a second before a high-pitched voice responded, ¡°Because warriors have to fight, right? If Meditating is already so amazing, then Aether Bursting must be even more awesome.¡±

    The old man put a hand on his shaved chin, giving her a smile that didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes. ¡°What if it isn¡¯t? What if, at the beginning, you only experience tremendous pain when Aether Bursting?¡±

    Jessica stood up and slammed a fist onto her chest. ¡°I shall fight regardless of whether or not it pains me! As long as people dare to bear the flag of the burning Volcano, I, Jessica, shall not rest in peace!¡±

    John stared up to her. It seemed like, no matter which universe it was, there would always be orphaned children bearing tremendous amounts of hate. Children who would do everything in their power, even sacrificing themselves, in order to destroy the particular faction that had destroyed their homes.

    New Pandora had been like this. Alpha Centauri had been like this. At the end of the war the whole galaxy had been like this.

    Perhaps this was just another facet of war. One that would never vanish as long as wars were waged.

    A strange silence enveloped the room. The old man stared at Jessica unblinkingly, but the girl in question stared back defiantly, a fire burning in the depths of her eyes that didn¡¯t lose out to her hair in its intensity.

    ¡°Fine then,¡± the old man muttered. His gaze wandered to the silent group in front of him. ¡°Who of you shares the same resolve?¡±

    The lean and muscular back of a boy in front of John shot up. ¡°I, Logan, shall not rest until the last of the Cymian fleets have sunk!¡±

    ¡°Lydia shall not rest until every last Ardensian soldier dies a horrible death!¡± a short girl screamed in the far corner of the room.

    ¡°It is either the monsters or me! I, Andrea, will kill all of those feral beasts or die trying!¡± the tall blonde next to John shouted as soon as the previous girl finished her sentence.

    ¡°By Oriana, I, Ronnie, swear to eliminate every bandit gang that roams these lands!¡±

    John¡¯s head turned back and forth as one by one, every child in the room and stood up slammed their fists onto their chests, loudly swearing oaths on the eradication of their enemies.

    Before long, it was only John who had remained sitting. All the others had sworn oaths to kill the enemies that had orphaned them.

    Most had started sobbing, and some even started openly crying, using their free hands to wipe the snot and tears running down their faces away.

    The smile had vanished from the old man¡¯s face once and for all. He gazed upon them with misty eyes, similarly slamming a fist onto his chest. ¡°LISTEN UP KIDS!¡± he roared.

    Their teacher mustered them with a look that could cut through steel. ¡°This old man swears to do his best to teach you! I shall provide you with everything you¡¯ll need to become the cream of the crop! When I¡¯m done with you your name shall strike fear into the hearts of your enemies!¡±

    His fist distanced itself from his chest before once again crashing into it with a boom. ¡°DO YOU SWEAR TO DO WHATEVER IT TAKES TO ACHIEVE YOUR GOALS?¡±

    ¡°¡°I DO!¡±¡± the combined voice of eleven children shook the room.

    ¡°GOOD!¡± The old man¡¯s fist relaxed and returned to his side. ¡°Now sit down and listen to me.¡±

    The children obediently nodded, sitting down on the floor in unison.

    Meanwhile, John blankly stared at a wall, clenching his fists so hard that his nails pierced his palms. The pain finally brought him back, but he wished that it hadn¡¯t when he looked at the solemn children around him.

    ¡°Do you remember the sensation Meditation gives you? The pleasure? Forget about it! It will only distract you from concentrating. Remember that Meditation isn¡¯t about Something as simple as letting yourself sink into a pleasurable trance. It is about resisting it, guiding the flow of aether into every nook and cranny of your bodies. Even the smallest overlooked area could spell your doom! It would mean that you could die in the most critical moment!¡±

    The old man¡¯s amber eyes gained a shining quality, seeming to radiate light out of them as he gazed at them feverishly. He waved his hand, causing exactly a dozen drops of liquid to appear in his palm. They each flew into one child¡¯s forehead, slowly sinking into it.

    As John felt the cool drop slowly dissolve on his forehead, he reflexively checked his aether reserves. They were rapidly rising, only stopping at ten times his previous capacity. Strangely enough, he hadn¡¯t felt anything entering his channels.

    ¡°Now try to Meditate again, but this time you¡¯re going to resist the temptation. Actively guide the aether in your body, move it into even the smallest of your channels. If you can¡¯t even do this, then you might as well give your oaths up now. You wouldn¡¯t be worthy of them.¡±

    John closed his eyes, once again ordering his core to slowly release aether into his body. The grey fog spewed out the instant he did so, and with it came the pleasure.

    But this time, he was prepared.

    Resisting against pleasure wasn¡¯t like resisting pain. Pain, at least, hurt you enough that it was easy for your mind to know that it was harmful. One¡¯s body had natural mechanisms to cope with excessive pain.

    However, the mind had no such mechanisms against the pleasure that Meditating gave him. It wasn¡¯t a bad thing per se, but it would cause him to lose control of the aether flow.

    And if losing control meant that not every single part of one¡¯s body was strengthened, then he would have no choice but to grit his teeth and turn this pleasurable affair into a torture.

    If he was already going to be sent into a giant medieval meatgrinder of a battlefield, then he may as well come prepared.

    As John focused on the channels the aether was flowing through, a fog inside his mind seemed to have been lifted. For the first time, he could feel them in their entirety. It really was like what his teacher had told him it would be like; There were a few sets of extremely big and strong channels flowing through his limps and torso back into his core, with hundreds if not thousands of smaller ones branching off them. These smaller channels led to the rest of his body up this skin and even the roots of his hair.

    ¡®Wait, if even your hair can be strengthened then how the hell are these guys cutting it?¡¯

    He pushed the stray thought aside and pushed aether into these smaller channels where it was only scarcely flowing through. A groan escaped his lips as the pleasure intensified even further, but he held on with trembling hands, somehow avoiding the open wounds he had inflicted upon himself.

    With every inch the aether advanced, the pleasure intensified. Focusing became harder and harder, until John finally lost track of how much time had passed.

    By the time the aether flow subsided, John had been able to feel the entirety of his body. Every nook and cranny, every last fibre and cell had been suffused by aether. No matter how much aether he fed his body, it sucked the aether at a set pace into it that increased with the amount of aether he supplied.

    John shivered, opening his eyes again. He slowly moved his arms in front of him, looking at them as if he had never seen them before.

    ¡®So this is what Meditation is supposed to be like. Amazing,¡¯ John thought.

    He had never felt his body in such clarity before. Carefully clenching his fists, although he wasn¡¯t able to feel a noticeable increase in strength, the action felt far smoother. His thoughts and reactions now seemed closer to each other. It was, weird as it may sound, as if he were in full control of his body. Like his previous actions were more controlled by his subconscious rather than his conscious mind.

    ¡°Good, it seems like you¡¯ve taken the first step. We¡¯ll continue tomorrow since some of you can¡¯t seem to believe the difference between those two methods,¡± the old man¡¯s voice echoed through the silent room.

    Brought back to reality, John slowly stood up and started walking out of the room when the old man gestured for him to stop. He turned around, seeing that the old man was examining him closely.

    The other children thanked their teacher and went on their ways, some still with undried tears on their faces. Ronnie stopped at the door and sent him a concerned look, but after seeing the calm expression on John¡¯s face he left the room.

    ¡°John, did you ever hate someone so much that you can¡¯t bear to live under the same sky?¡± the old man asked him.

    When John looked at him once again, he seemed to have aged even further. The wrinkles were more pronounced, the hair paler and the vitality in his eyes seemed to have vanished like a sweet lie.

    John avoided that pair of eyes, instead looking at the nearest wall. ¡°There¡¯s no need to continue with this farce, old man. I already know what you want to know.¡±

    The boy forced the saliva that had accumulated in his mouth down his throat. ¡°And let me tell you that it is impossible for me to enact revenge on the people that have caused me to end up here. No matter what I do, I won¡¯t be able to take revenge.¡±

    ¡°You never know, boy,¡± the old man responded slowly. His right hand gripping a necklace around his neck that John had never seen before, he continued, ¡°Not even the Great Protectors know where fate may lead us. Perhaps you will get your chance, but would you be ready to pay the price necessary to achieve it?¡±

    ¡°Anyway, it doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯ve held you up long enough.¡± The old man waved his hands, shooing John out of the room.

    <hr>

    Later that day, when John was back in his room, he stared at the fresco above him absentmindedly. He stretched a bandaged hand out, reaching for something that wasn¡¯t even there.

    ¡°Fate, huh? I¡¯m sure that bitch has nothing but shit in store for me.¡±

 Chapter 9

    White. It was the colour of the loose white shirt wrapping around her body like an oversized armour, the walls around them and the sheets surrounding the bony thin woman in front of him. John squinted his eyes, trying to make her face out, but a strange haze seemed to shroud his senses.

    He felt himself speak, but no words seemed to come out.

    The woman shook her head, causing a disorderly mess of golden hair to shake around the pillow. John only realized that her lips were red when they started to slowly move, forcing silent syllable after syllable out. It went on for a while, and he could feel his body shake with every word that came out of her mouth.

    He looked down, where he saw his hands holding a pair of milky white bony hands. John¡¯s vision moved closer to the blurry face, where he whispered something unintelligible into her ears.

    The white bedsheets shifted as the woman turned around to have a better look at him. The haze cleared around her eyes, revealing a pair of dull blue eyes. When John gazed at them, an unexplainable feeling of wrongness welled up in the pit of his gut. He wasn¡¯t sure what connection he had to this woman, but he obviously knew her, and there was just as obviously something horribly wrong about the situation he was in.

    ¡°****, I appreciate your kindness, I really do. But let¡¯s be honest here. Do you think I¡¯ll survive this operation?¡± a slightly raspy but nevertheless melodic voice resounded in John¡¯s ears.

    His grip on her hands tightened. ¡°Of course you will. I even booked a table at the Nightingale in order to celebrate your recovery.¡± An extremely forced smile forced itself upon his face. ¡°So please, don¡¯t say things like that. You¡¯re going to be okay, I promise.¡±

    Her rosy red lips curved into a smile. ¡°Hey, can you promise to just listen to what I¡¯m going to say next?¡±

    ¡°Of course I can. I¡¯ll listen from now to tomorrow evening if you want to.¡±

    The smile finally reached her slowly brightening eyes. ¡°I know that my chances are slim. So I want to say something to you just in case I won¡¯t make it.¡±

    John tried to gulp, but the spit inside his mouth had vanished. His gut felt like a wrecking ball had just smashed into it, but he still didn¡¯t know why. Was this woman that important to him?

    ¡°If fate permits it, let us meet again in another life-¡°

    <hr>

    A sudden feeling of falling, followed by a dull pain on the side of his face ripped John out of his dream. The smell of old wood invaded his nose, bringing him out of his sleep induced confusion. Slowly opening his eyes, John realized that he was lying on the ground. His somewhat indistinct bed was right next to the spot he had fallen onto.

    He sighed, his sluggish mind commanding a similarly sluggish body to move towards the bed again. Wiping the spittle at the corner of his mouth away, John rubbed the stinging left side of his face before he crawled into the comfortably warm bed again, pulling his blanket with him.

    Once John had found a comfortable position to sleep in again, he closed his eyes and waited for sleep to embrace him. However, a single thought continued haunting him.

    ¡®What was that dream?¡¯

    They say that you can¡¯t remember something you have forgotten. It was true. John didn¡¯t have the faintest clue who that woman could be. Was it an extremely realistic dream or an impactful memory of his? No matter how much he thought about it, a conclusion continued to elude him.

    He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. What else could he have forgotten? Forgetting things was natural and normal, but he knew that a memory as impactful as that couldn¡¯t possibly have been forgotten the normal way. Rather than that, it was the kind to be branded into one¡¯s very soul; something that one wouldn¡¯t forget no matter how much time passed.

    Burying his face into his pillow, John couldn¡¯t help releasing an exasperated groan. This entire matter was one big circle jerk. There was no way to remember something you don¡¯t know anything about. Even now his head was entirely blank in regards to that woman.

    What was he missing? Did it have something to do with his reincarnation? But why would he remember almost everything about his old friend but nothing about her?

    ¡®Did someone mess with my memories?¡¯

    John threw the pillow to the side and opened his eyes, causing a moonlit ceiling to reveal itself to him. Goosebumps appeared all over his body as he followed that train of thought even further. What even guaranteed that he was who he thought he was? Perhaps his entire past life was but a crazy delusion, which would certainly explain his mastery of the language the people spoke in these lands.

    But if that truly were the case, why didn¡¯t he have any memories of ever living here? Although his body appeared to be quite young, he was most certainly older than a toddler despite most of the men and women he had met until now having called him that way.

    Realizing that he could ramble on and on about this topic for ages if he wanted to, John decided to simply write every detail about the dream he had just had down for later examination. That way, he wouldn¡¯t have to struggle with remembering it again after falling asleep again.

    He stared at the table that seemed to be countless lightyears away from him, then at the comfortably warm blanket he was wrapped up in.

    Sighing in resignation, John pulled the blanket closer and hopped out of the bed, almost tumbling to the ground in the process.

    Then, after he had awkwardly stabilized himself and hopped towards the desk, John managed to wriggle a hand out of the tight embrace of his blanket, exposing it to the chilling cold outside. After cramming around the drawers for a few minutes, he finally found what he had been searching for: A painting brush that the warriors of this new world used as a substitute for pens.

    Remembering the instructions that the old geezer had given him during his first lesson, John drew some aether from his core and led it towards the fingers that gripped the brush. To his surprise, he felt a small tug at the aether slowly coursing through the channels at his fingertips. He relinquished his control over it, watching the brush¡¯s tip darken by a considerable amount as the aether was forcibly pulled from his fingertips.

    It was an utterly disgusting feeling, as if someone had ripped a strand of flesh from the deepest core of his fingers.

    John ignored it and tentatively drew a circle on the blank sheet of paper in front of him. It turned out to be far uglier than he had expected, but he saw it as a successful test nonetheless. He hadn¡¯t done anything by hand in decades, so that wasn¡¯t anything surprising.

    Setting the tip of the brush down on the paper once again, John started noting every little detail down, only to stop midway whilst writing his first word.

    Every movement he attempted with his fingers felt so terribly wrong. His wrist was stiff, and the loops and lines were at places they weren¡¯t supposed to be at. Even the first letter turned out to be more of a scrawl than he had expected. It was unreadable, even by himself.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    Realizing the mistake he had just made, John wanted to slap himself. How could he expect this new body of his to be capable of writing a language it had never experienced?

    ¡®Wait, maybe I¡¯m just unable to write it because I¡¯ve never actually done so in reality?¡¯

    John shook his head, clearing it of unnecessary thoughts. He needed to focus.

    The next few hours were spent in a frustrating series of failures. By the time the sun had risen above the gargantuan walls surrounding him, sending glaring rays directly onto his desk, his eyes were completely bloodshot. At some point of time the blanket had fallen onto the ground, leaving the shivering boy in the merciless cold.

    The fingers holding the brush had new indentations at the spots they had been touched the brush at. John had long since stopped feeling anything in them, yet he still tried to scribble an acceptable A onto what was probably the thousandth sheet of paper.

    His parched tongue swept across a pair of dried lips. Just as John was about to attempt once again, a familiar gong ripped him out of his crazed state.

    His head shot up, not daring to believe that this much time had already passed. It was then that he finally noticed the gigantic mess he had created in his room. Countless sheets were scattered across the ground, going from right beside over the blanket to the edge of the bed, where some had even slid under it.

    Having finished staring at the mess he had created himself, John stood up and started stretching his stiff body, bringing some warmth back into it again. Then he picked the sheets up and ordered them in a neat pile which he hid under the bed. He¡¯d die from embarrassment if anyone were to ever see those scribbles of his.

    After he had made sure that he didn¡¯t overlook anything, John walked out of his door and into the direction of the classroom, where Ronnie soon joined him.

    ¡°You okay?¡± the boy asked after looking him over a few times.

    John yawned, stretching his arms so wide that he almost hit a few fellow students. ¡°Well, let¡¯s say that this was a loooong night for me.¡±

    ¡°Good for you, I guess?¡±

    ¡°Not at all. In fact, I regret every second I wasted.¡±

    Ronnie hummed, walking on his toes in order to measure how far away they were from their destination. ¡°What do you think will we be taught today?¡±

    John shrugged, ignoring the annoyed looks some of the upperclassmen and -women were starting to shoot into his direction. ¡°I don¡¯t know? Really, I think that I¡¯m the only one in our class who doesn¡¯t have the slightest clue in regards to what warriors are even capable of.¡±

    ¡°Right, I almost forgot that you don¡¯t possess even the smallest hint of common sense.¡±

    The two approached the already opened door, stepping through it together.

    It seemed like they were the last ones to arrive since all of the other children had already taken their seats. The sound of quiet chatter could be heard throughout the room, and John could feel a few pairs of eyes focus on him before turning away.

    ¡°Can¡¯t you hurry up for a bit? We¡¯ve been waiting for, like, half an age!¡± Logan shouted from behind John as soon as he had sat down.

    ¡°Shut up Logan. We all know that you¡¯re the one who normally arrives last,¡± Andrea shouted back before either John or Ronnie could respond.

    A subdued cough coming from the blackboard swiftly caused all sounds to ebb away, including the words that remained stuck in Logan¡¯s throat. A wild tuft of almost platin blonde hair on his head swivelled around as the boy turned around and assumed an attentive position.

    Their teacher waited for it to be entirely silent before he started speaking. ¡°Today is going to be a special day for all of you. It will be the day in which you are going to choose the objects that are going to accompany you for the rest of your life, whether it is in the thicket of the wild forests outside of Frumentum or the deep seas next to Cyma-¡°

    Logan snorted derisively at the mention of Cyma, earning him a threatening glare from his teacher.

    ¡°That¡¯s right, today you are going to choose your main weapons, or at least the type of weapon you¡¯re going to use in the future.¡± Their teacher¡¯s eyes gained a strange lustre to them that intensified with every word he spoke. ¡°Follow me kids.¡±

    The old man walked out with his hands clasped behind his back, waiting for them outside the door. Once all of them had assembled, he started walking forward with a brisk pace that most of them were barely able to keep up with.

    Cursing his short legs, John stumbled after the dragon on his teacher¡¯s back.

    It didn¡¯t take long for them to arrive at their destination: One of the many training fields that dotted the landscape in the spacious garden surrounding the main building of the Golden Gate. Marked by the comfortably warm sand underneath their feet, the area it occupied was big enough to fit groups that were ten times as big as the one John was in. Lush green grass grew on its edges, unperturbed by its sandy surroundings. A few dozen metres away, John could make out other groups either training with various weapons or Meditating.

    They had formed a half circle around their teacher, who was staring at a group to their left with a malicious smirk on his face.

    Once he had turned his head towards them again, the old man snapped his fingers, causing dozens of different wooden weapons of all shapes and sizes to appear in the air.

    John sucked in a deep breath. What was this sorcery? He clenched his fists tightly, biting his lips at the feat that could only be described as magical in front of him. Would he be able to do the same one day? To make his weapons appear out of nowhere and control them as he wished?

    ¡°Now is the time to choose your weapon,¡± the geezer stated, at the same time stopping Jessica, who had already started advancing into the direction of a particularly large wooden club, in her tracks by raising his hand in her direction. A quick glare was everything he needed to make the crimson haired girl obediently go back into the half circle again. ¡°Think before you step forward, however. Choosing the wrong weapon may cost you your little lives during one of the many cruel trials you are undoubtedly going to face in your lives.¡±

    With that, he stepped back and let the horde of excited children storm at the weapons he had prepared.

    Unlike the others, John just stood back and watched at first. Picking one¡¯s weapon would probably be one of the most important decisions he would make in this life, and he didn¡¯t want to mess it up by just going up to a random weapon and declaring it his.

    After everything was said and done, he still believed himself to be a person from a completely different age. As such, the only information he had about medieval cold weaponry was very prone to be exaggerated to say the least.

    After a while of spectating, John noted that there didn¡¯t seem to be a particular tendency between the choices the children around him made. Almost all kinds of weapons, ranging from an oversized stick to the combination of a mace and a shield, were now in the hands of his classmates. Ronnie had chosen what came to John¡¯s mind whenever he thought about swords: A double edged, slightly elongated mass of wood that became gradually became sharper towards the tip.

    The black-haired boy was staring at the wooden weapon in his hands with an infatuated gaze, seeming to have lost track of his surroundings. Of the children around him, some were in the same state whilst others shook their heads and looked for other weapons.

    John quirked an eyebrow. Why did those kids make choosing a weapon look like a permanent choice? Sure, determining one¡¯s weapon may be vital, but if it proved to unsuitable you could just swap it out with another. Ronnie¡¯s state in particular unnerved him as it seemed plain weird.

    ¡°No need to be so nervous about it. You¡¯ll eventually realize what the right weapon is if you just search for it, believe me,¡± the old man shouted with a frown on his face.

    Nodding in acknowledgement at the words that were probably meant for everyone present, John slowly stepped forward, almost ducking under a hammerhead that almost hit him on his head. He clicked his tongue and let his gaze roam around the area, scanning it for any weapon that may be suitable for him.

    Swords, maces, cudgels, bows, shields and spears of all varieties and sizes passed by him, but they none of them managed to arouse his attention. Just as John was about to give up and grab whatever weapon was closest to him, he found his gaze glued to a halberd.

    Just like the other weapons he had seen until now, it was wooden, but it seemed to emanate a sort of fatal attraction that didn¡¯t match its material. The shaft, longer than John was tall, gently swayed as it glided through the air, and the spearhead connected to two axeblades bobbed with each movement.

    There was no way to describe the feeling John was experiencing at that moment, for he knew that there was no rational reason for it to seem so different for him.

    And yet here he was, plucking the weapon out of the air as if it were a golden apple from Idun¡¯s garden.

    Its weight felt slightly heavy in his hands. But that heaviness only served to make John feel more secure as he tightly grasped the wooden shaft. The fragrance of fresh wood wafted into his nose as he raised it up to eye-level, inspecting every fine vein on the wood.

    It was perfect. He didn¡¯t know how, or even why he felt that, but it was definitely the weapon he was destined for. Although there may be other weapons he would use once the situation called for it, John instinctively knew that he would never separate from this marvellous work of art.

    But the moment passed, and the wooden weapon wrenched itself out of his hands, slowly flying towards the old man and disappearing once they got close.

    ¡°Okay, now that you know what your ideal weapons looks like,¡± the demonic geezer started with a look that clearly stated his joy at the dissatisfied faces of the children around him, ¡°you¡¯re going to recreate it inside your cores.¡±

    As soon as he finished speaking, dozens of milky white drops whistled through the air to land on their foreheads, where they turned into raw aether nourishing their cores.

    ¡°What are you staring at me for? Go sit down and create your weapons!

 Chapter 10

    Recreating something from one¡¯s memories was just as hard as John expected it to be. His memory not being perfect was just a small distraction in that matter, for it was hard to forget something that captivated one¡¯s heart as quickly as that halberd did.

    No, the main problem was the fact that he had to specify everything about the weapon in question by himself despite not knowing what its exact properties were. The hardness of the shaft was just one problem of many that popped up, alongside the ratio of shaft to blade length.

    Thinking back to how he created those boards back then, John couldn¡¯t help but sigh in the circular world inside his core. Ignorance really was bliss. He had simply assumed a few things about the properties those boards were supposed to have, and in the end, they popped exactly as he had imagined them. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined that it would be far more complex if he decided to specify a few traits like he did when trying to create the perfect toothbrush.

    After noticing that it didn¡¯t quite look the same, John once again dispersed the unfinished weapon in his hands. He had already been in this dark space for quite some time, and, if he had to be honest, his motivation was rapidly going down the drain.

    Just what was he missing?

    Clenching his fists, John closed his eyes in order to be able to concentrate better. With but an intention of his, the aether rushed past him to create the tip of the wooden spearhead. A second later, two axeblades followed until the shaft began taking form.

    John opened his eyes, gazing at his finished creation, only to immediately dissolve it again. The spearhead was too long, the axeblades too wide. Just the shaft was somewhat acceptable.

    Gazing up at the non-existent ceiling above him, John scratched his head. He had a faint inkling that this was going to be one hell of a frustrating creating session.

    <hr>

    When John finally exited his core, he noticed that he was the only one left on the field. Even the old geezer had left.

    The sun was already in the middle of descending, dyeing the whole world in a warm orange. In its place, the three peculiar moons had already begun rising along with the carpet of stars, and the last lingering heat in his surroundings was slowly fading.

    The surrounding fields were also deserted, save for a solitary figure three fields to his right. It was a girl practicing with what seemed to be a staff. John squinted his eyes as he stared at the wild black hair dancing about in the air as she moved around along with her weapon.

    The last remaining rays of sunlight reflected off two round metallic orbs that were fixed to both ends of it, sometimes shining brighter and at times even completely vanishing from his vision as the girl swung the staff in dozens of different trajectories.

    A loud grumble interrupted his trance.

    John ripped his eyes away from the mesmerizing scene rubbed his rampaging stomach, only now remembering that he hadn¡¯t eaten in quite some time.

    He patted the sand off his trousers and headed towards the cafeteria with the sun at his back and an oversized shadow to his front. The shades that the trees and bushes on the sides of the path he walked on gave covered everything in his surroundings in a dark hue. He blinked, seeing a sun-shaped mark floating around on the back of his eyelids.

    The moons had long since replaced the sun by the time he reached the cafeteria, which was a large hall located in the middle of the expansive building he slept in, and the air was slowly becoming too chilly for John to walk around in the thin tunic he was wearing.

    Two heavy wooden doors that bore the same decorations as the main gate represented the entrance to it. They were flanked by two bigger than life golden statures of the same couple that had been painted onto it, and under the pedestal of each stature several symbols had been engraved in gilded letters.

    ¡®I really have to stop delaying learning the written language, otherwise I¡¯ll probably stay illiterate forever.¡¯ John shuddered when he thought about staying illiterate for the rest of his whole life. Knowledge was power, and he craved both.

    John stepped through the doors that would have been able to fit a giant under its frame and set foot on the food-repelling carpet covering the entire cafeteria grounds.

    The fact that a carpet could repel something as vague as ¡°food¡± had already induced more than just one headache in John, but he eventually learned to accept it as another impossibility aether was capable of achieving, despite him already having a hard time with reproducing a weapon he had seen once.

    The old geezer had taught him that, aside from creating life, almost everything was possible inside one¡¯s core, including the dubious ¡°enchantments¡±, whatever they were supposed to be. Although his core space was quite small as of now, it would expand to be as big as a small island or even continent as he lived and trained on. What was even more shocking was that he would, at that point, be capable of freely manipulating that continent to his wishes. It was almost as if he were a god inside his core space.

    Snapping out of his dreams of grandeur, John ignored the curious gazes of the few other students gathered at some of the dozens of extremely long tables that had been placed at regular intervals, ensuring that even hundreds of people could eat in here at the same time if they so wished.

    Dinner times were quite lax in the Golden Gate. As one could basically eat whenever one liked, making situations where the cafeteria was congested were extremely rare. Most students had, after all, no problem with waiting for a few more minutes in exchange for a better ambience.

    He approached one of the two long series of counters that were on opposite ends of the room, stopping in front of the tall man, whom everyone called Dread Eyes manning it. John avoided his piercing gaze, picking an empty plate up and presenting it to him.

    ¡°Has no one ever taught you that you should look people who serve you food in the eye?¡± Dread Eyes asked him, narrowing his already barely visible eyes into slits.

    John gulped. This server¡¯s temper was well known throughout the school, and he knew that if he gave him an opportunity to punish him he would definitely grab it like a drowning man would grab a piece of driftwood. As such, he steeled himself and forced his gaze towards the two barely visible swirling vortexes of blood this man whose real name nobody apparently cared about called his eyes.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    It was utterly disgusting. With every second that he had to look into the other¡¯s eyes he could feel his hunger be replaced by complete and utter terror. Those eyes weren¡¯t eyes that humans were supposed to possess. John had already seen all kinds of peculiar eyes, like those of Ronnie, during his time here, but he instinctively knew that those weren¡¯t eyes that humans were supposed to possess.

    With a symmetrical face that seemed to have been chiselled out of stone and wavy auburn hair coupled with two rows of perfectly white teeth, Dread Eye would have been quite the handsome man had it not been for his eyes. Unfortunately, things were as they were and the middle-aged man had long since become known for being particularly cruel, especially to the young children.

    Dread Eye beamed at him whilst filling the plate with bread and butter, dismissing him with a nod after he was done.

    Grabbing a cup of water on his way out, John sat down as far away from Dread Eye as possible after confirming that the only person he recognized was the girl from earlier sitting at a table not too far away from himself.

    She apparently had, at some point of time, arrived at the cafeteria before John without him even noticing it. Around her were a few young men and women, all looking to be around John¡¯s age.

    Taking a sip from the cup, John tried to listen in on their chatter, but unfortunately they were too far away. Was he becoming obsessed with this girl? Definitely, but John wasn¡¯t one to care about trifling things like that. There was something about that girl¡¯s techniques that he couldn¡¯t draw his gaze away form. Something unique, but he couldn¡¯t quite place a finger on what it was.

    ¡®Perhaps I should start training with my halberd?¡¯ John mused. It was a good idea, and it wasn¡¯t like there was anything stopping him from doing so once he was in his room again. Preferably with closed windows, so no one would be able to see it when he messed up.

    With a new plan in mind, John wolfed the last bread down and returned to his room without looking at the girl again. He could watch her another time.

    Once the door closed behind him, John summoned his masterpiece out of his core. Immediately, a now familiar weight appeared in his hands, along with a halberd longer than he was tall.

    Pale white moonlight streamed onto it, bathing the wooden weapon along with the rest of the room in an unearthly glow. The moons were unusually bright that day, almost illuminating the room to the same extent the sun did during dawn.

    John took a deep breath. He tentatively lifted his weapon off the ground, letting the shaft hop from one hand to another in an attempt to get a feeling for its weight. After a while, he noticed that it didn¡¯t work and tried to imitate the grip he saw in movies. For once, his coarse hands actually helped him since they made getting a good grip on it far easier.

    Thankful for the fact that he was still quite small, John raised the halberd above his head and swung it down with all his might with the intention of stopping it just before it hit the floor.

    He failed to stop it in time and one of the axeblades crashed onto the ground. A sharp noise resounded through the room as he dented the wooden floor slightly. The axe itself seemed to have remained intact, though John was starting to be thankful for his inability of sharpening the wooden edge.

    John flinched at the loudness. He just hoped that there wouldn¡¯t be any grumpy neighbours making his life unnecessarily hard tomorrow.

    ¡®Can a wooden weapon even cut properly?¡¯ he wondered as he moved closer to the dent he had made.

    It was, if he had to be honest, just a small mark on the polished wooden ground. John wouldn¡¯t even have noticed it had it not been for the fact that he had made it. He scratched his head using one hand, utilizing the other to touch the spot where the mark was the deepest.

    ¡°John,¡± a serious voice he knew all too well called out from behind him, ¡°I believe you do realize that you¡¯re in trouble now, right?¡±

    He didn¡¯t even need to turn his head around to know that his teacher had, however he had accomplished that, entered the room without his notice and probably watched him dent the floor.

    ¡°It was an accident,¡± John replied whilst searching the ceiling for hidden trapdoors. There had to be a way that old geezer entered the room every time so sneakily. Perhaps some secret teleportation device?

    ¡°It sure didn¡¯t look like one.¡±

    John grimaced at the old man¡¯s words. How long had he been standing there, observing him without a word? ¡°I just wanted to try swinging my weapon, and, uh, lost control. Fine control isn¡¯t my specialty, you see.¡±

    Footsteps approached him until John felt a hard hand nudge him to the side. He complied, and gazed at the serious expression of his teacher, who was examining the dent in the ground whilst kneeling. ¡°Erm, will I be punished for this?¡±

    The old man hummed, neither confirming nor denying his words as his eyes remained stuck to the dent. A few minutes passed in silence, before he snapped his fingers. As if on cue, the floor began to creak and the dent slowly vanished as the wood realigned itself.

    Then, the only physical adult in the room stood up and brushed some non-existent dust off his robes. Once finished, he sized John up with a pair of amber eyes that seemed to glow in the dark. ¡°Young man, you have damaged property that belongs to the Golden Gate, and if that wasn¡¯t enough you actually did it whilst trying to practice with your weapon!¡± he shouted, becoming louder with every word.

    ¡°This is practically begging for punishment! Give me your weapon.¡±

    John hesitantly reached the hand holding his weapon out. ¡°But Teacher-¡°

    ¡°You dare to talk back to me?¡± The light streaming off those two amber eyes intensified, emanating an oppressive aura that made it hard to breathe.

    John swallowed the rest of the words he wanted to say back down. It would be most unwise to speak brashly in a situation like that, and he wasn¡¯t dumb enough to try defying someone who could probably kill him with but a single exclamation.

    The old man took John¡¯s weapon into his hands and held it to his right ear, as if he were trying to listen to it. After a while, he finally put it back down and nodded, tracing the shaft with a grim expression. He examined it from all angles, tested the sharpness of the edges and even tried to pry the spearhead and axeblades apart.

    At the end, he slowly nodded and returned it to John. ¡°That¡¯s a nice weapon you¡¯ve created here. Had the quality been any worse than it is, I would have broken it apart.¡± His gaze softened for a moment before sharpening even further.

    ¡°But that doesn¡¯t change the fact that you deserve punishment. How about thrusting this halberd a hundred times before going to sleep? If you fail, you¡¯ll have to thrust it 200 times tomorrow. If you fail tomorrow, you¡¯ll have to thrust it 400 times the day after tomorrow. You start now!¡±

    ¡°Y-yes Sir!¡± John reflexively replied before realizing what he had done.

    ¡®Damnit! I¡¯m not in the military anymore!¡¯ he cursed inside his mind. Doing it oud loud with the hearing of his teacher would be a very bad idea.

    His teacher flashed him a smile that didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes. ¡°A good answer, brat. One I certainly didn¡¯t expect form a person of your origins.¡± Upon seeing the expression on John¡¯s face, he chuckled. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t pry into your past. We all have our secrets to keep, right? And why haven¡¯t you started yet, huh?¡±

    John secretly heaved a relieved sigh and widened the distance between his feet. He raised the spear until the tip was about level with his chest, and thrusted it. The old man didn¡¯t say a word, so he continued until his arms were starting to feel like they had been replaced with lead weights. That was when he realized that this wouldn¡¯t be quite as easy as he had assumed it to be.

    He stopped at the thirtieth thrust, leaning on the spear whilst panting. Thrusting a spear once may be relatively easy, but as time went on, each thrust would begin to draw at one¡¯s stamina. It wasn¡¯t quite as easy as those movies made it seem to be-

    ¡®How the hell are people supposed to fight like this?¡¯ he thought to himself.

    ¡°Your form is sloppy,¡± the old geezer next to him remarked. ¡°Your thrusts are slow, your stance completely random. You don¡¯t use the weight of your body, and becoming tired after just thirty such thrusts is a feat I would be ashamed of had I been you. Restart from one.¡±

    John suppressed the storm of curses that was threatening to burst out of his throat and opened the window. Comfortably cold air along with moonlight streamed into the room, brightening it just a bit. When the moonlight fell onto his tired body, he could feel himself becoming more energetic again.

    Taking deep breaths, John readied himself for what he knew would be a long night.

 Chapter 11

    ¡°Fuck,¡± John stated more than said towards the ceiling. He had the feeling that this wasn¡¯t the first time he had done so in the last four days since his night-time training started, and his aching body only further reminded him of that fact.

    How many strikes did he owe that demonic geezer by now? John briefly calculated the number, only to bury a groan inside his pillow. Things were looking anything but good for him, and he could already guess how he¡¯d spend the next few nights. ¡®To think that I¡¯d one day spend my nights training with someone who¡¯s even older than me. This must be a bad dream, right?¡¯

    ¡°Why are you cursing at the ceiling?¡± Ronnie, who was sitting on the only chair in the room, asked with an absentminded expression on his face.

    It had been a long day for the two of them. They had spent hours on the sandy field, the old man cursing and shouting at their lack of competence whilst correcting postures and stances as he saw fit. It somehow reminded him of the bootcamp he had been forced to visit in the past. The remaining memories he had of that place, however, were anything but pleasant.

    At the beginning of the weapon training, John had thought that something that seemed so easy in theory like moving one¡¯s feet according to the position one¡¯s body was in couldn¡¯t possibly be that hard to do. At least not harder than shooting accurately a target that was a few hundred feet away. He was horribly wrong. It was one thing to hit someone with a melee weapon, but to do so accurately and with control of the swing¡¯s trajectory was a completely different matter altogether.

    His body was simply not up to par. His mind wanted to do one thing, but the body wasn¡¯t capable of perfectly executing the orders.

    Per their teacher, the only thing they needed was lots of time and practice intense enough for them to wish they were never born in order to master their weapons, which was just as obvious as it sounded.

    At least they would have more than enough of invaluable the commodity known as time, since warriors tended to live far longer than normal humans. The old geezer was already two hundred years old, and Founders were supposed to have been walking these lands for more than twice that time.

    As evidenced by the aged body of the old geezer, however, it would only slow the aging process down considerably, and not completely stop it. The peculiar thing about it was that it didn¡¯t affect the growing speed of children; Warrior children grew at the same rate as others and even stayed young considerably longer than nature would have dictated. How fast one aged after maturing fully was, in turn, influenced by how powerful one¡¯s body and channels were. In short: The more time and aether a person used during Meditation, the longer one would live.

    The very fact that people couldn¡¯t become immortal was already quite a relief for John when he heard it. Immortality in and of itself was already quite a scary thing, and just imagining the harm an army of powerful beings that would never die of natural causes could cause was enough to send goosebumps all over his body. Especially if the army in question retained all their reproductive capabilities.

    ¡°I was just imagining the hellish training our most generous teacher will be giving me tonight,¡± John finally replied after a period of silence. ¡°You seem to be as shocked as I was about the fact that warriors live far longer than ordinary humans. Isn¡¯t that knowledge part of common sense?¡±

    ¡°It is. But that doesn¡¯t change the fact that I only heard rumours about the extended lifespan of warriors. Rumours being rumours, I of course thought that they were exaggerated. To be honest, until out esteemed teacher told us that warriors could, in fact, live for centuries, I always thought that warriors lived perhaps a decade or two longer than the average person.¡± Ronnie sighed, gazing out of the window again. ¡°I guess the fact that I could live for quite some time unless I¡¯m killed will take a while to sink in.¡±

    John risked a glance at Ronnie¡¯s scar-marked hands. His eyes narrowed as he tried to imagine what his life must have been like before he had been brought to the Golden Gate, but he dismissed that thought as soon as it came to his mind. The past was the past. What mattered was the present.

    ¡°Speaking of battles, when do you think will we finally be allowed to partake in an actual battle? Or no, scratch that. How long do you think will it take until we¡¯re allowed to even spar with each other?¡±

    John turned his body around, grimacing at the pain coming from his sides. ¡°Well, considering that the weapons we¡¯re using are more than capable of harming a person, I guess quite some time. If I were our extremely handsome and brilliant teacher, I wouldn¡¯t possibly allow my students to fight each other when they¡¯ve just started training with their weapons. The risks would far outweigh the possible advantages and fun such activities would bring.¡±

    Ronnie¡¯s body deflated a little upon hearing John¡¯s words. ¡°What are we even training for, then? After all we will have to fight on a battlefield someday, and if we haven¡¯t even sparred against another person before how are we even supposed to fight a battle to the death?¡± The boy sighed, pouting at the thin air listening attentively to him whilst rocking back and forth on his chair.

    ¡°Calm down man, it¡¯s not like we¡¯re going to spar tomorrow just because you want it, right? Why are you not honing your swordsmanship if you have nothing else to do? You seemed pretty infatuated with it when back on the field.¡±

    A pair of shining azure eyes glowered at John. ¡°Training is training, and leisure time is leisure time. I can train whenever I want, but I can only visit you whilst the sun is up in the sky. I may like swinging my sword around, but few things can compare to a good discussion with my best friend Johnnie,¡± the boy stated matter-of-factly.

    ¡°It¡¯s John, not Johnnie,¡± the person in question corrected his friend. He himself wouldn¡¯t have called Ronnie his best friend, but he had to admit that it was true. If one only had one real friend it wasn¡¯t difficult for that person to become one¡¯s best friend. ¡°And if you¡¯ve already got so much time and energy to waste why not just spend it creating stuff inside your core. It would certainly accelerate your growth. Didn¡¯t you want to teach that, uh, Jessica a lesson?¡±

    Ronnie sighed, leaning his head onto his arms. ¡°Don¡¯t remind me of that. Who told that arrogant bitch to proclaim herself the best swordswoman in our group? So what if she¡¯s the most powerful one out of us as of now? I¡¯ll surpass her in no time at all!¡±

    Remembering her spectacular show of pure skill and strength earlier that morning, John couldn¡¯t help but snort. ¡°Well, good luck then. I¡¯m sure that she won¡¯t mind another competitor.¡±

    <hr>

    ¡°And today, children, will be the day you get to spar for the first time in your as of now quite short lives,¡± the old man finished his morning speech, his eyes all the while resting on John, whose jaw was about to smash into the ground. ¡°Get together in group of pairs and summon your weapons.¡±

    John and the others were in the same sandy training field they had chosen their weapons in. The sun was blocked by a cloudy sky that marked what would likely soon become a rainy day, and the temperature was comfortably cool. Far in the distance, beyond the high walls surrounding their city, John could hear the faintest sounds of thunder reverberating through the air that even the excited chatter of the children around him couldn¡¯t cover.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    When he saw a hand wave in front of his face, John finally snapped out of his exasperated state. He turned around to face the owner of the hand, Ronnie, and asked him, ¡°I thought you wanted to have a fight with Jessica?¡±

    ¡°I do, but I¡¯m neither ready nor in need of a horrible beat down. The other boys-¡° Ronnie pointed his thumb backwards, where Logan and a few other boys were smiling at Jessica. ¡°Will do that for me I guess. There¡¯s no point in rushing things, right?¡± He smiled sheepishly.

    ¡®Is he really just a kid?¡¯ John asked himself once again. Ronnie¡¯s way of thinking just seemed too mature and calm to belong to a kid his age. But then again, if people could become multiple centuries old then a kid being more mature than he should wasn¡¯t that strange, he comforted himself.

    Shooing the unnecessary thoughts away, John summoned his halberd and went into the stance he had practiced far more often than he would have liked to. His muscles sent stabbing pain throughout his entire body in protest, but John silenced them with a small influx of aether, which worked better than any medicine he heard about.

    ¡°Begin on three. I repeat, on three! If I catch one of you little shits starting on one or two I¡¯ll smack you senseless, understood?¡± the old man shouted across the field. Seeing that his pupils had nodded obediently, he continued, ¡°And don¡¯t worry about getting hurt. Even if one of you beats the other to the brink of death ¨C which I sincerely hope you won¡¯t since I¡¯ll beat you up even worse if you do so ¨C I¡¯ll be able to stabilize and heal you.¡±

    Taking a small breath, he continued, ¡°Anyway, the first one to fall to the ground or admit defeat loses! Should someone actually dare to continue fighting even after his opponent has lost I¡¯ll skin your butts and hang them on my chimney, is that clear?¡±

    Seeming to take the silence as a confirmation, the geezer grinned once more. He raised his right hand, stretching his index finger out, but otherwise staying silent.

    John blinked, feeling his heart beat faster as the aether started to storm through his channels. he carefully observed Ronnie, who was standing seven feet away from him. The boy was holding a sword in his hands that neither elegant nor bulky and was staring back with an even greater intensity. A smile danced on the corner of Ronnie¡¯s lips.

    ¡°One!¡±

    The sudden shout caused John to flinch. He felt his vision, which had, at some point of time, started to tunnel in on Ronnie, expand again.

    The area was quickly brightening as the sun broke through the cloudy barrier blocking its rays from reaching the earth. All the childish playfulness had vanished from the field. No one except for perhaps the old man moved.

    ¡°Two!¡±

    Feeling the adrenaline rush into his brain, John tensed his muscles even further. Scenes of horrendous screams and chaotic gunfights flashed across his vision, but he drove them all away with a deep exhale. ¡®Focus, damnit!¡¯

    ¡°Three!¡±

    Silence reigned on the field for a brief fraction of a second before everything exploded into motion. John stomped forward and thrust his halberd out with all the strength his childish body could muster.

    Ronnie ran forward in response, batting John¡¯s halberd away with a wooden bang before rapidly closing in. John mumbled a curse and fell back, pulling the halberd with him. His opponent performed a diagonal slash that he evaded with the grace of an elephant in a china shop.

    With all thoughts of not wanting to hurt the child in front of him now having vanished from his adrenaline-filled head, John swung his halberd sideways whilst stumbling backwards. Wood met flesh, and his halberd crashed into Ronnie¡¯s unprotected side. The person in question just grunted and moved on, seemingly unaware of the hit he just received.

    The other¡¯s sword whistled through the air once again, but it only met a wooden shaft. Not wasting the chance he had been given, John let the blade slide off his halberd and swung the blunt end of his weapon at Ronnie¡¯s rips, driving the air out of the other¡¯s lungs.

    Intent on pressing his advantage, John stepped even closer and was about to push Ronnie down when he saw something approach his face from the corner of his vision. A piercing pain erupted from his cheek as he found himself staring at a completely different direction. Another blow crashed against his shoulder, forcing John¡¯s knees to buckle.

    He looked up, only to see the trembling tip of a sword stop just short of his face. ¡°Surrender,¡± Ronnie squeezed out in between wheezed breaths. His voice was icy, as if he wouldn¡¯t hesitate to ram the tip into his face if he decided to resist any further.

    The sun was slowly starting to be pushed back by the billowing clouds. There was a certain moisture in the air that indicated that it would rain soon, and the rough feeling of sand invading his clothes, along with the pain that became stronger as remaining aether inside his body slowly retreated into his core, only served as an additional reminder that this wasn¡¯t simply a bad dream. A cold wind whistled past, bringing a raindrop that fell onto John¡¯s face along with it.

    His ass plopped onto the ground. The action may have been insignificant at any other time, but at this moment, that simple action made John more bitter than he would have expected.

    He had lost.

    In a fight.

    Against a kid.

    John sighed, wondering whether he was too weak or Ronnie simply too strong. He stared up at the smiling victor, who was staring back at him with a shit eating grin. A hand stretched out to him. ¡°Where did you learn to fight like that?¡± John asked as he pulled himself up.

    ¡°Well,¡± the young boy started to speak with a laugh, his words being interrupted by a grunt as John heaved himself up, ¡°I guess I picked a move or two up during my time on the streets.¡±

    ¡°I guess you won¡¯t elaborate on the fact that you ignored my blow as if it had been nothing?¡± John stared at Ronnie¡¯s torso, which didn¡¯t seem to be any different from that of a normal person¡¯s.

    ¡°Nope. Wouldn¡¯t it be too boring if I were to tell you every secret of mine?¡±

    John sighed, not bothering to respond any further. He retrieved the halberd into his core and proceeded to wipe the sand that was starting to itch away with a grimace.

    The sounds of children chattering away mixed with the occasional pained high-pitched moans entered his ears. Without stopping what he was doing, John looked around, only to realize that most of the fights had already wrapped up. The only two people still fighting were Logan and Jessica, who were busy exchanging a flurry of blows, all the while pacing back and forth as they fought across the whole field.

    By the time the last bits of sand had been thrown out of the insides of his trousers, both fighters had tumbled down in a tangled mess of limbs. When John looked closer, he realized that the two were wrestling.

    ¡®How nostalgic. Back in the day, we also used to wrestle like this.¡¯

    Before the fight could escalate any further, a gentle gust of wind rushed through the whole field to separate the two sand covered combatants. Feeling a refreshing feeling as the pain from his wounds lessened considerably, John breathed in deeply as it brushed past him. Small drops of aether trickled in through his skin, entering his channels and rejuvenating even his very aether reserves.

    ¡°Okay kids, you¡¯ve sparred enough for today.¡±

    Every head in the field swivelled around to face the old man who was the owner of the voice that spoke out. The person in question smiled at the wildly varying expressions on his pupils¡¯ faces, beckoning them to come over. He waited until they were all gathered before he started speaking, ¡°I know you¡¯re probably expecting a small break in which I¡¯ll explain every mistake I observed to you, forcing you to train even though your whole bodies are aching. That won¡¯t happen. What you will get, however, is something far more important.¡±

    The old man paused, his intense pair of amber eyes examining each of the children. They lost focus for the briefest fraction of a second before he continued, ¡°It¡¯s a piece of advice that could possibly save your lives. Don¡¯t. Lose.¡±

    John gulped, but the sudden explosion of noises as the children around him became engaged into wild discussions he expected never came. He looked around, only seeing a group of grim faces.

    ¡°I know a little less than half of you-¡° He shot an amused look at Logan and Jessica, who were sitting on the sand with crossed arms and dark expressions on their faces. ¡°Have lost today. And, as far as I have observed, the loss seemed to have bothered most of you kids less than it should. I know this reminder won¡¯t be pleasant, but you have to keep in mind that you will be sent to the frontlines, sooner or later. And if you lose there, you¡¯ll die.¡±

    John felt goosebumps crawl up his skin as the realization that the institution he had been sent to really was one that turned orphans into warriors hit him. He would have to kill again.

    ¡°As such, I¡¯m fully expecting you to give it your all the next spar. If I catch any of you simply giving up after being put into a disadvantageous position, I¡¯ll whoop your asses until you won¡¯t be able to remember what sitting without pain used to be like, understood?¡±

    ¡°Yes Sir,¡± came the mumbled response from the children.

    The geezer pulled a thin brushwood rod out of nowhere and slapped it onto his hand. The nasty sound of it echoed through the silent field. ¡°What was that?¡±

    ¡°Sir yes Sir!¡±

    ¡°Now that sounds quite a bit better!¡± Brandishing the rod into the direction of the walls surrounding the Golden Gate, he shouted, ¡°As a punishment for being tardy, you¡¯ll have to run ten laps around the grounds! The last one to finish will receive twenty lashes. Start, now!¡±

    The group of children stormed away simultaneously. In the ensuing mess of sand, coughs and curses, John started running towards the walls whilst mulling over his defeat.

 Chapter 12

    Raindrops fell onto the window, creating a constant but soothing drumming. John tore his gaze away from the parchment in his hands and looked up to dark-grey clouds that had been dominating the skyscape ever since the first rainfall at the end of his first summer in this new world of his.

    ¡°How¡¯s your life here, kiddo?¡± a gruff voice asked him.

    John tore his gaze away from the landscape, directing it towards his visitor. Dim light entered the room, basking George, who was sitting in a chair that was obviously far too small for his enormous frame, in a pale light.

    ¡°Good, I guess. Just, you know, training every day and night can get pretty damn boring after a few months.¡±

    George, who seemed just as gigantic as the last time John had seen him, leaned back. The chair groaned in protest, but the culprit didn¡¯t seem to even notice that. ¡°As you probably already know, it won¡¯t be too long until you¡¯ll be sent to the frontlines.¡± He spoke with a slow, unhurried tone that matched neither his appearance nor the past impression John had in his mind.

    He seemed like someone who was here to talk about business, not to reminisce about good old times that didn¡¯t really exist in the first place. Perhaps feeling that John had seen through his intentions, the middle-aged giant coughed lightly, raising his head in mock surrender.

    ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll get to the point. There¡¯s something I want you to do for me. Now don¡¯t look at me like that, it¡¯s not like I want you to do it for free.¡± George snapped his fingers, causing a pile of black coins with a hole in the middle to fall onto John¡¯s table. They clinked metallically as they hit the hard wooden table that stood between them, and at that moment John realized that he still had no idea about the local currency. ¡°I think this will be enough?¡±

    John took a long, hard look at the coins in front of him. Mentally sighing at his complete and utter lack of knowledge about the local currencies, he picked one up and examined it closer. It was just about one inch wide, with the hole in the middle being just big enough to fit a few sturdy strings. The matte black surface felt somewhat warm to the touch, but was otherwise completely plain.

    A low chuckle reverberated through the whole room. When John looked up, he saw George stare at him whilst trying to hold his laughter in. ¡°What?¡± he asked with a quirked eyebrow.

    ¡°Let me guess,¡± George wheezed out with a snort, ¡°You don¡¯t know how much this coin is worth?¡±

    John stayed silent.

    A full-blown laughter caused the whole room to shake. John closed his eyes, enduring the moment as he awaited the explanation that would surely follow.

    After what seemed like an eternity passed, the laughter finally stopped. George wiped a tear off his face and straightened his colossal frame. ¡°Phew, that felt good.¡± He rolled his shoulders and breathed in deeply, then pulling blue, grey and white coins out of thin air in short succession.

    Placing them next to each other, he pointed at the blue coin. ¡°Do you know what this one is called?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± John responded, drawing the word out with a hint of annoyance. ¡°Can you just assume that I don¡¯t know anything about currencies and get the hell on with this?¡±

    George sent him a beaming smile. ¡°Fine then. Let¡¯s start with the basics of the basics: Us warriors can produce these coins in our cores, and the amount of aether we put into it defines its worth. Since it would be far too bothersome if every single warrior were to use their own coins, the powers that be have decided to establish a system that makes the life of everyone involved easier.¡±

    The giant let the blue coin levitate until it was at eye-height with John. ¡°This blue coin represents the smallest amount of money you can pay with: One Aetherion.¡± The other three coins floated up to the same height. ¡°A black coin ought to be worth a hundred times as much as a blue one, whilst the grey coins are worth ten times as much as the black coins. The most valuable one would be the white coin, which contains about ten times the amount of aether a grey coin possesses. I reckon you wouldn¡¯t be able to produce even a single genuine white coin even if you turned the contents of your core into pure aether.¡±

    John snatched the white coin out of the air, examining it further. ¡°So how are merchants supposed to check whether the coin is real or fake?¡± he voiced the gnawing doubt at the back of his mind out loud.

    The coin wrenched itself out of John¡¯s hand, flying back to its former place. ¡°Since most merchants aren¡¯t fully grown warriors capable of sensing aether-¡°

    ¡°Wait wait wait wait wait,¡± John interrupted him, ¡°So you mean that I¡¯ll be able to sense aether when I grow older?¡±

    John¡¯s head whipped back as the white coin shot at his forehead, leaving a red mark on it after bouncing off. ¡°Don¡¯t interrupt me when I¡¯m explaining, okay?¡±

    ¡°Anyway,¡± George continued whilst ignoring the glare John was sending into his direction, ¡°Most respectable merchants possess an aether scale capable of measuring the amount of aether contained within an object, which is then displayed in numbers. This means that, theoretically, a blue coin containing enough aether inside can be worth just as much as a white one and vice versa.¡±

    ¡°And what about the merchants that can¡¯t afford one?¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s what blue coins are for. One Aetherion is the amount needed to produce a coin like this.¡± The blue coin closed in on John¡¯s face, stopping just short of hitting the space between his eyes. ¡°Every blue coin is made of a special material that will cost exactly one Aetherion to create.¡±

    The levitating blue coin vanished. ¡°To us warriors, the most important thing about these coins lies in the simple fact that we can drain aether out of a coin when our stocks run low, provided you have any at hand and enough time. Though it is quite a tedious and slow process unless you use horrendous sums amounts of money, every second counts when your very lifespan depends on aether.¡±

    ¡°So you mean that I could theoretically live far longer than normally if I were to just use a boatload of money?¡±

    George nodded.

    ¡°Then the children born in rich families will have quite an extreme advantage over normal people, won¡¯t they?¡±

    George nodded once again. ¡°That¡¯s just the way it is. Children born with a silver spoon in their mouths will cultivate at a pace that far outstrips your imagination.¡± A wry grin spread out on his face. ¡°That doesn¡¯t help them when they step on battlefields, though. They fall like any other rookie.¡±

    A moment of silence in which they just stared at each other with wry grins ensued. ¡°Do you have any other questions? Otherwise, I¡¯ll tell you the task I want you to perform,¡± George finally said.

    It took him a moment of hesitation, but John decided that hearing just what would animate George to come in such a business-like manner was more important than most of the questions pressing his mind. For now, at least. ¡°None. I¡¯ll ask you when any pop up.¡± Seeing the strange expression on George¡¯s face, he quickly added, ¡°After you¡¯ve finished talking, of course.¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Good.¡± George cleared his throat, and his expression quickly turned neutral again. ¡°You probably haven¡¯t been told, but you¡¯ll be deployed to Evergreen in a few weeks. In there, you kids will have the role of providing all kinds of support to the returning soldiers of the frontlines.¡±

    He reached into his robes, fumbling around for a bit before finally pulling a thick envelope out. ¡°Your job is as easy as it gets: Simply deliver this to any logistics manager you happen to meet. Tell them it¡¯s from Deathblade George.¡±

    ¡°What kind of cheesy name is that?¡±

    George raised an eyebrow. ¡°You don¡¯t have to care about things like that, boy. Simply deliver the message and we can pretend you never asked that question. Understood?¡±

    Realizing that he had done something unexpectedly offensive, John nodded obediently. ¡°Of course. And the money will be mine before or after I have accomplished the task?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I nearly forgot. Here, this is yours.¡± With a snap of his fingers, the pile of coins started levitating, slowly flying through the air until it stopped in front of John.

    ¡°Now, do you accept?¡±

    John found his gaze inexplicably drawn to that big, beautiful pile of money, but managed to rip it away. He blinked, trying to think of the implications such a task could bring. ¡°Why would ask me, of all people, to perform this task? I don¡¯t want to sound ungrateful, but why not just go there yourself?¡±

    George shifted in his seat uncomfortably, almost breaking it in the process. ¡°Well, you see-¡° He put a hand around the badge hanging on his chest. ¡°There are certain circumstances that won¡¯t allow me to do so myself. Honestly, I¡¯d love to tell you all about them, but as you probably know these walls have ears.¡± The giant of a man pointed a finger towards the ceiling.

    John¡¯s eyes narrowed at the other¡¯s words. ¡°And what guarantees, then, that I won¡¯t die an early death due to some unforeseen¡­accidents?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that I¡¯d follow you to the grave in case you were to die due to me, so don¡¯t worry. This job is very safe, and very well paid. Stop asking questions and simply accept like a good kid, okay? Greg ¨C I guess you better know him as Teacher - will watch over you, anyway, so you can rest assured. It¡¯s more likely for the Evergreen to lose its leaves in summer than for someone to sneak past him and kill you.¡±

    John put one hand to his chin, the other reaching out to grab the still levitating pile of coins. They evaded his touch, however, and his hand caught nothing but thin air. ¡°I guess I¡¯ll accept. Do you mind if I consult my teacher about the real risks of this little task?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure that he¡¯ll contact you on his own as soon as I leave this room. Speaking of leaving, it was nice to see you and all, but I¡¯ve really got to go now. Circumstances, as I¡¯ve already told you.¡± George winked at him.

    The chair nearly toppled over when George rose to his full height. A few swift steps and formalities later, he was gone.

    Closing the door, John mentally started counting. At five, a familiar voice resounded from behind him, ¡°I assume that this is the man that handed you in?¡±

    The boy turned around, and after glancing around the room he discovered the ramrod-straight form of his teacher sitting on his bed. He nodded in response to the old man¡¯s question, taking a seat opposite of him.

    A pair of amber eyes sized him up. ¡°Did you ever come into contact with him before he brought you here?¡±

    ¡°No?¡± John stared straight back at them. ¡°We actually first met each other when I collapsed on the street. He nursed me back to health by shoving something strange down my throat, and then led me here. As far as I know, I¡¯ve never even seen him before that incident.¡±

    The old man¡¯ stare was fixed on him long enough to make John uncomfortable. He mumbled something under his breath that John didn¡¯t quite catch. ¡°That¡¯s also fine. I¡¯d advise you to stay as far away from that man as possible, however. He¡¯s far more dangerous than you most likely believe.¡±

    John raised an eyebrow. ¡°Why? Does it have to do with those circumstances he mentioned?¡±

    ¡°Oh, how I wish it were just that. No, he¡¯s well known to be a bloodthirsty monster that slaughters his enemies indiscriminately.¡± Two amber eyes abruptly started shining as the old man clenched his fists. ¡°Regardless of whether they are soldiers or civilians.¡± John¡¯s teacher shook his head full of white hair. ¡°But I guess you have to see something like that in order to believe it. As he is now, George really does seem like a kind middle aged man, as much as it pains me to say this.¡±

    ¡°Then don¡¯t I simply need to avoid becoming his enemy? I mean, he seems like a pretty reasonable man, after all. I¡¯m sure that you¡¯d need to do something outrageous to offend him.¡± John calmly answered despite the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when he realised that he could have been in mortal danger all this time.

    ¡®Calm down, me. Everyone around you being a possible psycho isn¡¯t anything new,¡¯ he told himself. ¡®The very fact that he saved my collapsed on the streets proves that he doesn¡¯t have some strange hate for humanity as a whole. Or at least against you.¡¯

    Greg smiled sheepishly ¨C something that looked completely out of place on his otherwise strict face. ¡°That¡¯s quite the good point you raised here. Not to mention that even he has things he can¡¯t afford to lose, which, I guess, is the main reason he hasn¡¯t gone on a rampage in Cymae yet. But I digress. What I actually came here to tell you about was our expedition that George has already told you about. As I¡¯ve already paid everyone aside from you a personal visit since I¡¯ll have to attend to some matters of my own in the next few days, I¡¯ll keep myself brief. The excursion itself will start in two days. Pack your things and stand by on our usual training field until I arrive. You¡¯ll get the rest of the details when we start moving.¡±

    John¡¯s mouth twitched as he observed the old man stand up. ¡°Could you perhaps elaborate on the details of our¡­excursion? I don¡¯t want to be rude, but I think it some things like our exact destination and what exactly I need to pack would be pretty helpful?¡± he inquired as politely as he could.

    His teacher, who had already stood up, froze. A fraction of a second later, he coughed. ¡°Of course. I was just waiting for you to say those words.¡±

    ¡°Anyway, we will be travelling to Everfort, which will take us around two weeks by foot. The official reason is to ¡°provide support¡±, but in reality, we are doing this to show you what awaits you if you don¡¯t give it your all in training.¡± The old man smiled weakly, and John could have sworn that he saw something vulnerable in his wrinkled face. Whatever he thought to have glimpsed at vanished just as quickly as it appeared, though, and he continued, ¡°Believe me, the life of a warrior may still seem pretty glorious to you now, but you¡¯ll learn that it¡¯s harsher than that of most commoners. Most of our kind don¡¯t really get to live beyond their forties.¡±

    His teacher sighed, and a familiar sharpness that could cut through steel shone through his eyes again. ¡°Look at me telling you these things! I must be going senile.¡±

    John licked his lips as he thought about the ridiculously low expected lifespan of a caste whose potential age was well beyond one hundred. He clenched his fists tightly. ¡°What do I need to carry with me?¡± John asked after realizing that there he had far more important things to worry about at the moment.

    ¡°Clothes, a healthy amount of common sense and a few games to pass time with. You can just suck all of that stuff into your core, so there won¡¯t be a need for a backpack or anything of the like.¡± The old man glanced around the room for a moment. ¡°Not that there is much to pack in your case, anyway,¡± he added.

    ¡°Gee, thanks for that. It¡¯s not like I could acquire a lot of stuff with my non-existent allowance anyway. Even if I were allowed to actually go out, for that matter.¡±

    A yawn escaped the old man¡¯s mouth. ¡°Well, tough luck boy. It¡¯s for your own protection. Who knows what kind of schemes our enemies might try to pull off against you brats?¡±

    John sat back, puffing his cheeks up like the child he was now. ¡®I need to act more like a proper adult, dammit!¡¯ he scolded himself in the back of his mind. Not letting his train of thought interrupt him, he retorted, ¡°Why, then, are we travelling towards the frontlines, arguably one of the most dangerous places in the entirety of Frumentum?¡±

    ¡°What kind of warriors would you be if you never saw what war can do to even the bravest to man? Although our name, warrior, contains the word ¡°war¡±, that doesn¡¯t mean that we were born to live and die on the battlefield.¡± Greg absentmindedly straightened his robe. ¡°After everything is said and done, we are still humans, despite what some commoners might think. We live, bleed and die just like any other human. It is my job as your teacher to show you just how fragile the life of warriors can be, in spite of all our superhuman abilities. That¡¯s why I¡¯m constantly telling you that every life should be fought as if your very lives depend on it. Because in the future, it will.¡±

    ¡°But I digress, again. Prepare your things. I expect to arrive around the time the sun has reached its zenith. If you still aren¡¯t present at that time, I¡¯ll personally come to wherever you may be and whoop your ass all the way to Everfort.¡± John¡¯s teacher told him, proceeding to start walking again. Within a moment, he also exited the room.

    Feeling his muscle aches return as soon as the old man was gone, John groaned. Two weeks of travelling? Were those bastards trying to kill his undernourished self?

    Sighing as he knew the futility of his complaints, he jumped onto the bed, draped the blanket over himself and nuzzled against his beloved pillow. Who knows how much rest he would get in the following weeks? He might as well stock up on sleep whilst he could.

 Chapter 13

    Goddard would never have expected that rain splattering against his helmet could be so loud. Every single droplet resounded like a thunderous boom inside his ears. Not even the melody of thousands of soldiers surrounding him could drown the sound out.

    Or perhaps it was simply his fear messing with his mind, considering the precarious situation he was in at the moment. Goddard sighed. Who was he kidding? He was shitting his pants, for he knew death was drawing closer.

    ¡°Give up! We can finish this without any bloodshed!¡± Miranda of Frumentum, beloved great-granddaughter of the Golden Giant himself, shouted at him from the hilltop she stood upon.

    A sour taste welled up in the inside of his mouth as he recalled the last few weeks she had spent chasing him. After being left behind as the rearguard to cover the retreat of the main army, Goddard and his troops were quickly minced into bits by their enemy¡¯s sheer numbers and firepower.

    It was all a haze of blood and screams from then on.

    Goddard was awoken from his reminiscence by the sound of hundreds advancing as one, spears pointed right at him. The infantry, however, didn¡¯t pose a problem, simply due to the lack of warriors in their ranks. The people carefully marching against him at the moment were but cannon fodder, their only purpose being to drain his aether reserves further. The true striking force was gathered around their precious princess, awaiting the moment he couldn¡¯t hold out anymore to rush in for the kill.

    Gripping his halberd so hard that his knuckles started to turn white, Goddard released a deep breath. His time had come. He could feel it in his bones. He would certainly not survive today¡¯s encounter.

    It was ironic, really. A group of people far weaker than him would bring an end to a life that was spent pursuing ultimate power.

    Trusting his senses that had rarely ever failed him in his many decades on the battlefield, Bloodstorm marched into the direction of Miranda. He would show them.

    Before he could even start running, however, Miranda slung a bow around her shoulder and fired off an arrow that he barely avoided. Then came another, this time fired by another archer, faster and faster until he couldn¡¯t hear anything aside from the sound of arrows futilely bounding off his armour. He forced himself to push against the force that seemed to come from every direction, lifted the buckler in front of his helmet and advanced.

    But the arrows came from everywhere, making every inch he gained feel like a battle in of itself. The ground trembled as hundreds of people moved at the same time, and occasionally arrows strong enough to cause him to pause in his advance put dents and rips into his armour.

    With the possibility of death once again drawing closer, Goddard realised that it couldn¡¯t go on like this. They had likely prepared enough arrows to drown the entire valley in a storm of steel and wood. If he didn¡¯t manage to break out before his aether reserves ran low, he¡¯d die a miserable death in the hands of common soldiers!

    That was not an option. It was a fate unbefitting of himself. In his desperation, Goddard flailed his mind in a search for a way out. And he found it in an almost forgotten technique he had hoped that he would never be forced to use: Last Light.

    It was the forceful dissolvement of the entirety of matter he had gathered inside his core. He would essentially destroy his entire life¡¯s work for one single blast of power.

    And then, he would turn into a normal person. Not that it mattered, since he would die by the time Last Light ended, anyway.

    Under his helmet, a deep sigh escaped his lips as his body began to light up with blinding brilliance. His channels bulged and broke as an unprecedented amount of aether shot through them. On the outside, one could only see numerous rays of white light shine through the cracks of his armour as a white avatar of his body underneath the armour appeared, quickly growing in size until it was as tall as three men. The sea of arrows that had threatened to overwhelm him mere seconds ago parted as Goddard rushed through it, stomping many a unfortunate soldier straight into the ground on the way.

    The similarly enlarged halberd swept through the battlefield with ease, gouging deep lines into the ground wherever it went whilst turning dozens of soldiers into bisected bloody halves within seconds.

    In response, Miranda simply ordered a retreat, and the tightly-packed ranks of armoured men and women dispersed like dust in the wind. The casualties instantly reduced, and Goddard¡¯s avatar was bombarded with arrows once again.

    Truly living up to his nickname, he killed his way to Miranda, who fired arrow after arrow that penetrated deep into the highly compressed blinding white aether that his avatar was comprised of. Her bow in one hand and an arrow in another, she evaded one strike after another in a flustered manner. Finally, an overhead swing hit her bow head-on, causing her knees to buckle at the sheer force. A pillar of soil shot up from the ground, helping her block the next strike that caused her to be sent barrelling.

    ¡°Protect the princess!¡± one of her many subordinates shouted whilst throwing himself in his way. Dozens of halberds, spears and all other kinds of weapons moved to obstruct Goddard¡¯s path, and his avatar rippled due to the mighty blows they rained down on him from all directions.

    His halberd cut across the air, blocking numerous strikes. Bloodstorm¡¯s body twisted and shifted as he methodically smashed dozens of men and women out of his way. His goal was the death of Miranda, and everyone in his way was but an obstacle he would forcibly remove.

    But the person in question had long since moved away, now carefully keeping her distance whilst shooting arrows at him like nothing had happened. And with every attack Goddard suffered, his aether reserves dwindled.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    The shrinking giant roared with an intensity that shocked the entire battlefield. It fought with the ferocity of a wounded beast, managing to take down soldier after soldier before finally succumbing to the combined efforts of thousands. In the end, the last remnants of the white giant exploded in a blinding flash. Soldiers, warriors, raindrops and muddy soil were pushed aside alike, shooting out in all directions.

    Left in its wake was a Goddard who was too exhausted to even lift his arms, devoid of any semblance of aether. He was lying in the middle of the crater he had dug out himself, without any resemblance of strength left in him.

    A group of warriors with Miranda in its centre, entirely covered in mud and blood, slowly approached him. Panting heavily, Goddard heard their once vibrant melodies quieten to the level of an ordinary person.

    A manic grin formed on his face. He had killed over two hundred soldiers and ten warriors by himself, even when cornered and exhausted ¨C An achievement even his late instructor would have been proud of.

    His breath suddenly escaped his lungs when he a plated boot smashed through a gap in his armour. He hacked and coughed instinctively, gasping for air with what little strength he had left. Two hands grabbed his helmet, forcing it off his head.

    Light flooded his vision, blinding his eyes that were accustomed to darkness.

    ¡°May your wicked soul forever drown in the endless seas up above,¡± a muffled voice said before an impact sent him reeling.

    The shortest of moments before Goddard sank into eternal darkness, he heard a voice mumble a string of incomprehensible words into his ears. Then, the world was forever silenced.

    <hr>

    John looked at the orderly cobbled road in front of him. The faint sounds of rain splashing off a barrier could be heard all around their merry group as they advanced in an orderly row of twos. With the exception of their esteemed teacher, who seemed to be unaffected by their march that had lasted for a good week, every one of them was exhausted, despite their strengthened bodies.

    Mechanically placing one foot in front of the other, John wondered just how he was supposed to survive another week of this torture. His body hurt from the training and sparring their teacher put them under every time they had reached their goal, and the sandals that used to be new not too long ago were close to being shredded. Not to mention camping outside¡­

    He shuddered. Perhaps the only saving grace of the entire journey was the very road they were treading upon. Wide even by modern standards, it would have been capable to fit five to six cars driving next to each other comfortably. It made one wonder why they were even marching in pairs. Not that he¡¯d ever say that out loud.

    Not to mention the convenient function of blocking all incoming rain with what seemed to be a barrier erected centred around the road itself, only allowing the occasional gentle breeze through.

    Engaging in idle banter with Ronny and the rows in front and behind him, they quickly arrived at their next stop: A rundown two-storey inn that also happened to have a barrier protecting it from the rain.

    The old man waited for them to gather up around the entrance and performed a count to make sure that no one had gotten lost along the way ¨C A pointless action, given the fact that he seemed to hear every single word the entire group uttered in his presence without losing track of it.

    ¡°No training today. Rest well, for tomorrow¡¯s journey will be that much longer than usual,¡± he said with what could only be a sadistic smile.

    A mixture of groans and relieved sighs came from all around, but their teacher acted as if he didn¡¯t hear them, simply declaring, ¡°You know the drill. Listen to the kind uncles and aunts who will show you your rooms whilst I settle things.¡±

    As they entered the rowdy bar that also doubled as a reception room, a heavy-set middle-aged woman approached them upon seeing their teacher, ushering them upstairs. They did so in excited chatter, accompanied by the wry smiles and numerous frowns of various soldiers as soon as they saw the crests of a golden gate etched onto the clothes they wore ¨C A mandatory sign of their identities as aspiring warriors of the Golden Gate.

    Feeling enough malicious glares staring him down from behind to cause goosebumps to appear, John couldn¡¯t help but once again doubt whether that symbol really served to improve their safety. It wasn¡¯t the first time this had happened, and would certainly not be the last.

    ¡®Well,¡¯ he thought to himself, ¡®everything beats camping in the wild.¡¯

    Past the stairs, they were led into their rooms one by one in pairs that had been arranged beforehand by their teacher. Sighing as he was told that he would be staying in the same room as Logan tonight, John followed the older woman with slumped shoulders.

    A single bed, a drawer and a table in the main room and a simple bathroom in the other, it was a temporary residence far above John¡¯s expectations. A window adorned the wall opposite of the entrance, showing the seemingly endless rain flowing down an invisible barrier outside. The stone hanging from the ceiling barely managed to illuminate the somewhat dim room, giving it a downtrodden look despite the homely furniture.

    Once the door had been closed, Logan jumped onto the bed that was supposed to fit an average male with elation, instantly occupying the entire space for himself. He hugged the only pillow available as if it were made of gold.

    ¡°Leave some space for me, will you?¡± John grumbled out loud as the fatigue from travelling all day suddenly hit him like a soft pillow from behind.

    ¡°No way in hell. Go search for your own bed to sleep on,¡± came Logan¡¯s muffled voice through the pillow.

    John¡¯s response came in the form of a foot that shoved Logan to the edge of the wall. ¡°Just stay on your side and we won¡¯t have any problems.¡±

    Logan jumped up. ¡°What¡¯s your problem?¡±

    ¡°My problem here is you hogging the entire bed to yourself. If you stay on your half, then we can get this over with peacefully.¡±

    ¡°My ¡®half¡¯? Who do you think you are to decide something like that on your own? Does the bed belong to you?¡±

    ¡°Look, don¡¯t you think it¡¯s fair for both of us to get a half each?¡±

    ¡°I think it would be fair for you to sleep on the ground! Now let me sleep in peace before I have to beat your sorry ass.¡±

    Both sides frowned. Clenching his fist until his knuckles turned white, John slowly approached Logan. Who did that little shit think he was? Why couldn¡¯t he just act like a normal person and stop being such a whiny little fuck? And god damn, what made him believe that he could hog the pillow without asking him?

    Before any of them could do anything else, a familiar cough sent shivers down their spines. It came from the door, but when they looked, no one seemed to be there.

    Two gulps broke the silence.

    No longer saying anything, John closed his eyes and stomped off to the bathroom in order to brush his teeth. Once finished, he returned to a bed that was only half-occupied. Clicking his tongue at the fact that Logan hadn¡¯t even brushed his teeth before going to sleep, John laid down on the other side.

    Though the lack of a blanket ¨C Which Logan had wrapped around himself until it was questionable how he was going to stand up ¨C was somewhat annoying, John chose to ignore that in favour of some much-needed sleep.

    His eyelids fell down like shutters, and he almost subconsciously curled up into a ball.

    It was comfortable. The faint sounds coming from the busy pub below were soothing, and the temperature was just right to enable him to sleep even without blanket. And yet, there was something in the air that made him unable to fall into slumberland.

    Just as he was beginning to wonder whether it was going to be another sleepless night, a voice he had not expected ¨C No, hoped would be far more appropriate ¨C to ever hear again, disturbed his entire being.

    ¡°Hey buddy.¡±

 Chapter 14

    The world seemed to stop for a moment.

    ¡°What¡¯s with that reaction, old friend? It¡¯s like you¡¯re not even happy to see me!¡±

    A drop of sweat rolled down his forehead, hitting the bed below with a thud.

    ¡°Impossible,¡± John whispered, just loud enough for himself to hear.

    ¡°Ohhh it¡¯s not.¡± It let the words linger in the air, and John could feel the sweat on his body rapidly dry up. ¡°Your sweat is just as disgusting as always. Seems like some things don¡¯t change just because you gained a brand-new body, huh?¡±

    John closed his eyes, calming his breathing, lest he accidentally woke Logan up. There was no time to deal with that brat¡¯s shit. ¡°I¡¯ve got more questions for you than you could possibly imagine, you bastard.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡±

    ¡°Why am I here? Is this still the same universe? How did you bring me to this place? Does aether play a role in this? Was it you who erased all memories of my original name-¡°

    ¡°Let¡¯s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we? First of all, you are here because I want you to be. I brought you here because I wanted to. No, this isn¡¯t the same universe. Yes, aether did play a role in all of this.¡±

    ¡°Why would you do that? I can¡¯t imagine my ¡­ reincarnation or whatever it is that I experienced being something you could do anytime you wished.¡±

    ¡°Because I have plans for us. Big. Plans. We¡¯re going to accomplish great things together, John.¡±

    John stilled. He had heard these exact words before, many years ago. ¡°You don¡¯t believe I¡¯m going to go along with your plans just like that, do you? I¡¯m not a child anymore. You¡¯re going to have to pay the price if you want me to do to your bidding.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve got no choice if you want to continue surviving. This world is rejecting us, pal. We have to work together.¡±

    Rolling out of the bed, John stood up and walked towards the window. He opened it, letting the cool air from outside calm him down.

    Something wasn¡¯t right here. The world was rejecting them?

    ¡°More like rejecting you, asshat. I wouldn¡¯t even be here without your influence. Not to mention that I¡¯ve yet to feel any particular rejection from the world so far.¡±

    ¡°Certainly, but that doesn¡¯t change the fact that we¡¯re a team now, does it? For better or worse, we¡¯re bound to each other. If one of us dies, the other will perish too.¡±

    John grit his teeth. ¡°What can you do for me?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m still recuperating, so my abilities are somewhat limited. However, I can purify aether from the world around us and give you whatever remains after healing my wounds. Your growth will shoot through the roof.¡±

    ¡°Why not give me your aether directly?¡±

    ¡°If you want to go crazy, be my guest.¡±

    He started tapping the wooden windowsill. ¡°Then what¡¯s your goal? What do you hope to accomplish with all this?¡±

    In a rare moment of hesitation, what used to be the voice of the marble chose not to say anything for a moment. ¡°I want to live.¡±

    ¡°You see, we are bound to each other now. I can¡¯t free myself from you just as much as you can¡¯t separate yourself from me. However, the lifespan of humans is very, very limited, and if you die, I will have to follow you into the grave.¡±

    ¡°Then why bind yourself to me in the first place?¡±

    ¡°You think I would have done so if I had any other choice? I was already falling apart when I met you, and I need a soul to stabilize me. Unfortunately, most souls¡­cannot be connected to mine for extended periods of time without collapsing. But you came at just the right time. The rest is, as you probably already know, literally galactic history.¡±

    When he finished processing these words, John couldn¡¯t help but stare blankly. Should he believe it? How much of what it had said was true, how much false? It would certainly explain a lot of things, but at the same time it didn¡¯t make too much sense, either.

    Just as he was about to get lost in his thoughts, a pillow hit the back of his head. ¡°Would you fucking shut the fucking window? You might like sleeping in the cold, but I sure as hell don¡¯t!¡± Logan shouted from the bed.

    John simply flipped the bird at him, but chose to close it in the end when he noticed that the perfectly warm temperature from before was gone now. It was to both their benefit, after all. And the blanket was far from big enough to fit both their needs.

    Now staring outside the window again, he thought about the implications of what might happen now that the damned marble had returned. ¡°Wait, that means you don¡¯t have a physical body, right? So you¡¯re just some sort of soul connected to mine?¡±

    ¡°You could call it that way.¡±

    Rolling his eyes at the attempt to be cryptic now that it had come clean, John returned to his line of thought. No matter what it really wanted, or which devious plans it probably had in mind, the only thing that mattered at the moment was that it could help him improve tremendously. And if it did speak the truth, then they were indeed working on the same goal. Having an extra source of aether didn¡¯t sound too bad, after all. And who knows, it could perhaps help him when he least expected it.

    ¡°Pfffft,¡± he burst out when he finished that thought. Yeah, sure. Helping without a condition? Perhaps in the sweetest of dreams. But who cares as long as their goals match?

    ¡°Okay, you got me. I also want to live. But I think that¡¯s the only thing we can agree on at the moment. Is there anything else I should be aware of? Some cosmic force chasing you around, perhaps?¡±

    ¡°Those who couldn¡¯t bear to live in the same infinite void with me are all dead. However, I would beware the ground under your feet, for it might just turn against you.¡±

    Burying his face in his hands, John groaned. ¡°Yeah, great. Let¡¯s just make sure that doesn¡¯t affect our lifespan, alright? No provoking the planet, or moons, or the sun, or, I don¡¯t know, the next black hole we come across! Alright?¡±

    ¡°Sure thing, buddy. May we live long and prosperously.¡±

    The rain was still pattering at the barrier outside, flowing down in rivulets that congregated into small streams flowing into the far distance. Was this the fate that the old man had spoken of?

    John snorted. ¡®No need to get delusional.¡±

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    <hr>

    The next week went by in a rain-filled blur of endless walking, walking and walking. By the time their destination was in sight, John and the rest of the children were already at their mental breaking points. The sheer boredom that enveloped them in the past few days was unimaginable, for even the bubbliest of children ran out of topics to talk about once they passed the one-week mark.

    Thankfully, the process of entering Camp Verdant, which was the name of their destination, went without a hitch. They were welcomed by a small delegation of fully armoured soldiers who, after confirming their identities and checking their future work stations, led them to the small two-storey house that would become their temporary residence.

    The soldiers then proceeded to hand each of them a sheet of paper with a number on it. Before they could question anything, the old man stepped up. ¡°Okay, team up with the people who have the same number as you. They will be your partners in the two weeks to come, as well as your roommates. You¡¯ll get ten minutes to find your partners and familiarize yourselves with your new rooms. Use it well, because work starts as soon as your break ends.¡±

    The children scrambled to find their partners, and, after an agonizing minute of searching, John¡¯s turned out to be Ronnie and Jessica. Rubbing his eyes when he realized that the fiery little devil would be on his team, John suppressed the internal groans rising up from his subconsciousness.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you forgetting something here? Like sleeping in the same room as a girl~,¡± the marble¡¯s voice said in a way that managed to unnerve John even after all the decades they spent together.

    ¡°We¡¯re just kids you asshat,¡± John retorted. ¡°The worst that could happen is that we punch each other unconscious.¡± He glanced at the already quarrelling Ronnie and Jessica, but blended them out when they started discussing how many times they had beaten each other in a swordfight.

    ¡°Guys, how about we look at our room first? You can continue in there,¡± John said when he realized that they didn¡¯t have much of their break left.

    Reluctantly backing off when they realized the same, the three went into the building that seemed to consist of only bedrooms and bathrooms, walking up the stairs and stopping in front of room 5. It was spartan to say the least, with only three thin beds barely big enough to fit an adult man and just as many drawers. The window showing the bustling streets of Camp Verdant was the perhaps only good point about it.

    Before they could even discuss the distribution of beds, however, they were dragged out by their teacher and sent on the way with a duo of soldiers.

    Looking around as they walked across the broad streets of the military base, John attempted multiple times to strike up a conversation with the two tin cans leading the way. They didn¡¯t deign to respond, which left him alone with a pair of quarrelling children.

    Fortunately, it seemed like the day was slowly beginning to catch up to them, eventually leaving the group in a comfortable silence.

    The group of five trudged through lush avenues to their goal, with the seemingly endless barrier of water above and stomped earth below. Somewhere beyond the thick layer of clouds, the sun seemed to be setting, dyeing the entire area in an increasingly gloomy grey.

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe that we¡¯ve been assigned to the field hospital,¡± Jessica stated after a few blissful minutes in silence. ¡°I mean, Logan will be stationed in the headquarters! Bullhead Logan! The probably most muscleheaded idiot in our entire class will get to enjoy a luxurious life with the nobles whilst I¡¯m stuck as an assistant for shit.¡± She kicked a pebble into the distance. ¡°I really don¡¯t know what Teacher was thinking when he made the list.¡±

    Ronnie switched his gaze from the ground to the back of the glimmering golden breastplate the tallest of their escorts wore. ¡°Our most handsome and intelligent teacher must have had his reasons. He¡¯s a teacher after all. They don¡¯t make mistakes. Now stop complaining and let¡¯s get this over with. Look, our destination¡¯s already in sight.¡±

    John, who could already feel a headache coming on from trying to fade out the marble¡¯s constant remarks and attempts to persuade him into doing something stupid, snapped back into reality. He gave the building in front of them a good look before attempting to remember just how he dealt with that annoying voice in his head before.

    The field hospital was an expansive stone building, stretching out for what must have been a hundred meters on either side. One could barely make out a few silhouettes through the regularly placed windows. Two large statues of a wrinkled old man with a caduceus in one hand and an opened book in the other flanked the open set of doors that led into the insides of this massive complex.

    ¡°Well, here we are kids. Your new superiors will arrive to pick you up shortly, so don¡¯t cause trouble and stay put, alright?¡± the largest tin can that turned out to be a woman said after stopping in front of the entrance.

    Once again the group was enveloped in an awkward silence. Fortunately, it didn¡¯t take long until their superiors, a group middle aged men and women who,if the bags under their eyes were any indication, needed more than just two hours of sleep per day, turned up and released the soldiers from their duties.

    ¡°Well, at least their timing is perfect,¡± the oldest amongst them mumbled whilst ushering them through the broad corridors made of polished wood and tasteful vegetation. Along the way, he lazily explained the various functions of different sections and greeted any colleague with a meaningful stare. Eventually, their group became smaller and smaller as one doctor after another split off, wandering off into one of the many branching corridors of this maze-like building

    After five minutes of monologue, the quartet that only consisted of the talkative doctor and the children stopped in front of a door that had a broom and a mop painted on it.

    ¡°HAHAHAHAHA, what grandiose and indispensable services you will be providing!¡±

    Fighting against the sinking feeling in his stomach, John breathed in deeply. Their teacher had told them that he would show them the cruel realities of war more than once. He wasn¡¯t an expert on the matter, but cleaning didn¡¯t really count as an incredible cruelty to him.

    ¡°And this, children, is where you will get your supplies for your work. Brooms, mops, hot and cold water as well as soap. Everything you need in order to clean the wards of our injured returnees.¡±

    The trio exchanged confused looks.

    ¡°Mister, is that going to be the entirety of our tasks?¡± Ronnie finally asked after a moment of hesitation.

    ¡°Ohhh, you don¡¯t look satisfied?¡± The man smiled in a way that didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes. ¡°Cleaning is quite an important task, too, you know? LIVES are depending on it. It is not a disgrace to dedicate your time to improving the lives of people who can¡¯t help themselves,¡± he spat. ¡°Now get whatever you need and follow me. A new wave of returnees is going to arrive tomorrow, and we need to prepare a hall for them.¡±

    Swallowing the retorts brewing on the tip of his tongue, John joined Ronnie and Jessica in preparing their cleaning utensils. The cluttered chamber was barely big enough to fit them all, but at least it contained well-maintained tools.

    The perhaps most surprising thing was what looked like a big wooden tub separated into two sections. A pipe was installed above each one, letting cold and hot water respectively run into them.

    He was about to grab a broom when Jessica interrupted him with a tap on his shoulder. ¡°John, I¡¯m gonna take the broom. You take whatever else we need.¡±

    Glancing over his shoulder, he stared at her for a moment. Then, recalling some rumours he heard, he rolled his eyes. ¡°Listen Jessica, you¡¯re closer to the mops anyway. Why not take them and let Ronnie carry the water bucket?¡±

    ¡°Yeah Jessica. Don¡¯t make this more complicated than necessary,¡± Ronnie threw in from the side whilst filling up a bucket with hot water.

    Her fiery hair swirling, Jessica turned around to face the two, both hands stemmed upon her hips. ¡°I¡¯m NOT taking a mop into my hands. You know that I hate these icky dirty things. Who knows just what kind of stuff they¡¯ve been in contact with?¡±

    Ronnie facepalmed. ¡°Jessica, get over it. Yo-¡°

    ¡°You¡¯re just making me do this because I beat your ass!¡±

    ¡°What? No, that¡¯s got nothing to do with this. You¡¯re just being unreasonable here! Just because your muscles are the biggest in this round doesn¡¯t mean that you can decide who does what? We¡¯ll just share the tasks equally, okay?¡±

    Jessica crossed her arms in front of her chest and said, ¡°How about I take care of all the sweeping? You and John can share the rest.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    John and Ronnie gave her their best meaningful stares.

    She averted her eyes. ¡°Okay, maybe I could, I dunno, take care of switching buckets if they get too dirty? I just don¡¯t want to touch these filthy mops.¡±

    John sighed. ¡°Okay,¡± he said slowly, watching Ronnie through his peripheral vision. This was probably the best they would get without arguing a whole lot longer. ¡°We can do that. But don¡¯t you dare complain later.¡±

    ¡°I am a woman of my word! How dar-¡°

    A series of knocks came from the door. ¡°Hurry up in there, we don¡¯t have all day!¡± came the voice of their supervisor. ¡°Every second we waste here is one neither of us gets to sleep!¡±

    ¡°Wait, when do we have to wake up tomorrow?¡± John shouted back.

    ¡°If you hurry the hell up, perhaps in four hours? Good enough for you?¡±

    The trio cursed simultaneously. They each scrambled to get their stuff ready, with John taking the mobs and soap and Ronnie two buckets of clean hot water. Jessica grabbed a bunch of brooms and a dustpan.

    Once they were ready, they stormed through the door and followed the sleep-deprived doctor to the dirty ward. They cleaned and scrubbed, moved objects and swept with all the strength and speed their aether- enhanced bodies could muster. But the doctor was relentless and uncompromising in his quality control. By the time he finally let them go, there were only two hours of sleep left.

    Dragging their tired bodies to whatever bed they managed to reach first, the trio collapsed into their beds. The fatigue quickly made short work of the remaining adrenaline in their bodies, and it didn¡¯t take them long until they nodded off into slumberland.

    In the end, it felt like barely a second had passed when thunderous gongs ripped them out of their dreams.

 Chapter 15

    Dawn came with the sound of cheers and jubilation.

    Having finished brushing his teeth, John stumbled to the window, where Ronnie and Jessica were already watching the festivities.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± he asked as he squeezed himself into the gap between the two.

    Outside the window and across the street, a procession was taking place. Thousands of soldiers in various states of disrepair were marching across the broad streets of Camp Verdant, their formation winding across the entire base like a massive golden snake. At the forefront was a young woman whose golden eyes and hair seemed to glow in the gloomy weather. A wide smile plastered on her face, she bore a massive flag with a golden sickle and sword crossed over each other in her hands, waving it around as if it were a toy.

    Loud, festive music blared all over, and the gathered soldiers welcomed the returning forces with cheers, flowers and plenty of spilled alcohol.

    ¡°Lady Miranda Frumentum has returned victoriously with the heads of hundreds Ardensi!¡± Jessica shouted with sparkles practically bursting out of her eyes. ¡°I heard they managed to decimate them in the last battle. Thousands died, apparently. They even managed to capture some bigshot. Some kinda royalty or whatever.¡±

    Looking closer, John indeed discovered that the lowest fifth of the snake was composed of bound men and women, hobbling along with what he presumed to be gloomy faces. They were too far away to make them out clearly, but they didn¡¯t seem to be too wounded, for that matter.

    ¡°Amazing, I guess. But how many wounded will they be bringing with them?¡± Ronnie interjected.

    Looking at the sheer number marching soldiers, John made an estimation that didn¡¯t sound good at all. Hundreds, perhaps? Hopefully their workload wouldn¡¯t increase too much. Just a single ward was already enough to drive him crazy.

    ¡°Not too many. Two or three hundred at best,¡± came the voice of their teacher.

    The trio flinched simultaneously. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, this is a wonderful occasion. We¡¯ve beaten the Ardensi back and secured a significant portion of the Scarlet Plains at the same time,¡± he continued without heeding their reactions. ¡°Well, I guess this also means more work for you, but this is a small price to pay. Now hurry up and go downstairs, we¡¯ll join the festivities whilst they last.¡±

    John turned around as quickly as he could, but there seemed to be no sign that the old man had ever been present. ¡°I swear I¡¯m gonna learn how to do that too,¡± he mumbled under his breath.

    ¡°Stop talking to yourself and hurry up!¡± Jessica shouted from the doorway. Ronnie was standing next to her, giving him the best urgent look his eyes could muster.

    They rushed down together, finally joining the bigger group below, where impatient soldiers were already urging them to hurry up. Setting off, they joined one of many streams of people rushing over to watch the proceedings. Once they got closer, they managed to secure some of the closest places to the procession by virtue of their teacher. The old man only needed to flash them the badge hanging on his chest and the people, regardless of whether they were soldiers or civilians, would respectfully make way.

    ¡°Ohmygods, ohmygawds, that¡¯s the Wall! By Oriana John, look, there¡¯s Hawk and Eagle, side by side!¡± Ronnie squealed. His voice went an octave higher than what John thought was possible.

    And he wasn¡¯t the only one. Excited squeals rang around them every few seconds, uttered by men and women, adults and children alike. The people in question, walking only a foot behind Miranda, were waving to the crowds with big fat smiles plastered on their faces. Their armours were all unique, some modelled after various animals, others heavily decorated. They were in pristine conditions, with not even the slightest scratch being visible.

    John frowned at that sight, but relaxed when he recalled that any self-respecting warrior¡¯s armour should possess self-repairing qualities.

    The heroes quickly passed them, followed up by less known, but nevertheless powerful warriors. After they, too passed, came the ordinary warriors, young men and women who couldn¡¯t be older than twenty.

    Then came the long procession of ordinary soldiers, commoners who had signed up for military service. Tattered clothes, scratches and holes in their armour as well as injured faces weren¡¯t uncommon. Some even had to hobble along, carried by their brothers-in-arms. Yet they beamed with the knowledge that they had yet survived another battlefield where a random warrior could swoop in and kill dozens of them before being driven off. And gained quite a generous remuneration for their efforts to boot.

    It felt like hours before the last of them finally passed by their group. What came after them were long rows of prisoners, bound in shackles and chains. They were being dragged forward by the last row of soldiers, with their bare heads held low in shame. Even greater cheering, or perhaps it would be better to call it jeering, welcomed them. Soldiers who managed to get themselves drunk right after dawn sung song after song, insulting them and their people. Soon, even the rest of crowd began to join in, and their voices became a deafening sea of noise.

    A few of the prisoners raised their head, but before any words could leave their mouths they were quickly beaten down by clubs.

    And even they passed quickly, until there was nothing but a receding wave of cheers and music.

    After a kind reminder by their ever-so-benevolent teacher, the trio reluctantly made their way towards the fields hospital. They passed littered mugs and all sorts of organic trash, ranging from puddles of spilled beer to dead-drunk soldiers lying in the middle of the street.

    John could have sworn that it really didn¡¯t take all that long for that procession to pass, so how the hell did these guys manage to pass out so quickly? He pushed that thought aside and finished the rest of the trip to the field hospital with the slowest gait he could muster. When they arrived, however, the doctor was nowhere to be found.

    ¡°So, what do we do now?¡± Ronnie stated what was probably on all their minds at the moment.

    ¡°Slack off. Relax. You deserve some rest after yesterday¡¯s slave labour,¡± came the marble¡¯s voice.

    ¡°No one asked you,¡± John mumbled under his breath.

    Ronnie turned to him. ¡°Did you say something?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, how about we go inside and search for the doctor?¡±

    ¡°Like that¡¯s going to work. Why not wait here for him? He¡¯s bound to come around sooner or later,¡± Jessica said after eyeing him critically.

    ¡°Sounds good,¡± Ronnie said. He turned to face John. ¡°You sure you¡¯re okay though? You¡¯ve been mumbling to yourself quite a lot recently.¡± His honestly concerned stare didn¡¯t really make the situation better.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine. Totally fine,¡± John answered. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. ¡°You know, it¡¯s just that I¡¯ve been tired. Mumbling keeps me awake and ready for action.¡±

    Ronnie shrugged, and Jessica, who had wandered off to search for a rock to sit on, simply rolled her eyes.

    Figuring that he had nothing better to do, John simply sat on the ground and started meditating. Liquid pleasure started coursing through his channels, and he grit his teeth and guided it with the greatest precision he could muster. It was both an exhausting and rewarding experience, for his mind started clearing up, free from distractions such as that damned marble¡¯s remarks and the lack of sleep. There were only himself and aether, both struggling for supremacy in his body.

    What felt like seconds but might as well have been hours had gone by when a coarse hand shook John awake. He opened his eyes, staring into an astonishingly average pair of brown eyes framed by an aging face with greying hair. Dark circles and deep creases formed below and above the eyes respectively, making him look even older than he probably was.

    The middle-aged man shuddered after meeting his gaze, averting his gaze just as quickly as he returned it. ¡°Okay kids, I know we didn¡¯t have the best introduction yesterday,¡± he started after stepping back and facing them all at once. ¡°But if we want to finish on time today I¡¯m going to need your very best. My name¡¯s Sandon, by the way. I kind of forgot to introduce myself yesterday, what with all the other stuff I had to show you around to.¡± He smiled, but it didn¡¯t reach his eyes.

    ¡°John, nice to meet you.¡±

    ¡°Ronnie. Let¡¯s work well together.¡±

    ¡°Jessica, same as the other two.¡±

    After they were done with the late pleasantries, they once again walked into the winding corridors that some idiot had deemed to be fit for a field hospital.

    ¡°Your job today will be to follow me on my routine rounds and clean three wards.¡± He pointedly ignored the groans coming from the trio behind him. ¡°Transferring all the wounded into it have made them a bit¡­messy. Since we don¡¯t want our heroes to die pitiful deaths on the sickbeds instead of the battlefields they belong to, we¡¯ll need to make sure that they get what they need and don¡¯t catch any more infections than they already have.¡±Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    Unable to help himself, John asked, ¡°How many are going to get out of here alive?¡±

    Sandon rubbed the stubbles on his chin as he walked on in silence. ¡°Perhaps half of the soldiers and nine tenths of the warriors? It depends on the fierceness of the battle, really.¡±

    ¡°That little? I thought modern medicine was better than ever?¡± Ronnie asked.

    Sandon laughed darkly. ¡°It is. The survival rate was perhaps only three quarters of what it is now when I first started. The newest medicines by our apothecaries really do tend to work wonders.¡±

    He waggled his finger in front of himself. ¡°My teacher told me that, in the times of my grandmaster, one¡¯s death was pretty much guaranteed if you were an ordinary soldier catching an infection during the transportation back.¡±

    He glanced over at them. ¡°Of course, warriors never had that problem. You are a very much¡­precious resource that, though not quite rare, is essential to any war effort. One warrior can make the impact of dozens of a hundred in a single battle, not to mention over the course of an entire war. No matter how severe your injuries, us doctors are instructed to prioritize your survival above all.¡±

    Whilst Jessica and John didn¡¯t seem to be quite sure how to handle that information, Ronnie simply nodded. ¡°It¡¯s only reasonable, I guess?¡±

    The doctor flashed the boy a smirk. ¡°Well, perhaps for the ones doing the fighting. I¡¯m a simple doctor.¡± He shrugged, turning his eyes to the front but continuing to watch them from the corner of his eyes. ¡°I couldn¡¯t care less about who my patients are. Lives are lives. In the end, we¡¯re all destined to return to Oriana¡¯s embrace, so why differentiate? But well, orders are orders, aren¡¯t they?¡±

    The trio didn¡¯t respond to that. They kept walking on in an awkward silence, until Jessica blurted out, ¡°I think that all lives should be saved equally. As a warrior, it is my duty to serve Frumentum in whatever way I can. But the uncles and aunties that volunteer for this noble cause shouldn¡¯t be left to die simply because a warrior¡¯s treatment is prioritized. That¡¯s just - unfair!¡±

    The other three stared at her for a moment.

    Then, the doctor burst out laughing and ran a hand over her wavy crimson hair. Her head shook from side to side as he ruffled it. ¡°You¡¯re a good kid. I hope you¡¯ll keep this attitude when you grow up. Frumentum needs more people like you if this damned tripartite war is ever going to end.¡±

    Jessica smiled bashfully. ¡°Of course I¡¯m not going to change. Why should I?¡± John snorted and started laughing. The girl shot him a glare that could have cut through steel. ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll even manage to finish off those volcanic bastards in my lifetime!¡±

    Sandon laughed even harder. ¡°That¡¯s just how I like it. Good, you¡¯ll make a fine warrior one day.¡±

    The smile had crept over John¡¯s face slowly froze and faded away. How was it possible to utter such vicious words with such an innocent countenance? Oh the tragedy of-

    ¡°Stop pitying her, you hypocrite. She doesn¡¯t need it.¡±

    ¡°How about you let me finish my thoughts?¡±

    ¡°How can I when it¡¯s written all over your face? Look, they¡¯re already staring at you.¡±

    And stare they did. John looked back and acted as if nothing was wrong. It worked, or at least he hoped so. At least they weren¡¯t staring anymore.

    A few minutes later, they had already entered the ward with their cleaning utensils in tow, despite Jessica¡¯s futile attempts to get out of using a mop. The entire room was smelling of blood and medicine, with the sounds of low conversations all over the place. Dozens of people in various conditions were lying on what seemed like oversized stretchers with some stuffing squeezed into them. They were arranged into neat rows, the corridors in between barely big enough for people to pass through.

    Three doctors and their assistants were making their rounds, administering treatments and asking questions as they went. Sanderson quickly joined them, and it soon became apparent that every doctor seemed to be responsible for around a quarter of the room.

    Having each been assigned a different corner to clean, John was in the process of wiping the floor when he noticed someone he recognized on the bed to his right. It was a big, burly chested giant of a man. Brown hair was covering nearly his entire body and face, safe for a bandaged area around the upper left arm and the entire ribcage. They reeked of bitter medicine, and even his breath seemed to be laboured.

    John didn¡¯t pause working, instead squinting his eyes as he pondered. They shot up when he realized that this man was the Wall Ronnie had squealed about not too long ago. How had he ended up in here?

    Could it be that he had participated in the victory march despite his injuries? Looking around, John actually recognized quite a few other faces in the entire hall. In fact, most of them, save for those whose legs were wounded, were faintly familiar.

    Shaking his head with a smile, John cursed them as fools in his mind.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got an interesting aura, kid,¡± an almost childishly high voice remarked.

    John looked around, but the only one in the direction it came from was¡­

    ¡°Cat got your tongue? Don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t bite,¡± said the burly middle-aged man he knew as the Wall, hero of a hundred battles, commander of a thousand troops and warrior extraordinaire.

    Ignoring the roaring laughter inside his head, John turned to face the Wall. ¡°Thanks, I guess? I don¡¯t see why it should be that special, though.¡±

    He grinned, showing a Cheshire-cat like smile. ¡°You¡¯re like a vortex sucking the surrounding aether in. It¡¯s quite interesting, actually, since it doesn¡¯t even accumulate. Which means that you somehow absorb it without even paying attention to it.¡± He paused for a moment, examining John from head to toe in a manner that seemed like he was stripping him with his eyes. ¡°Well, I guess it doesn¡¯t really matter since you don¡¯t quite seem crazy to me. If you hear voices in your head, you should seek help from your teacher.¡±

    Stunned, John simply stared at him for a moment. Just how had he managed to decipher his secret? Was it that obvious? What would happen now that the cat was out of the bag? How was it possible to have such a high voice with a body that big?

    ¡°Look at him go. Scaring kids again, aren¡¯t ya?¡± a woman whose bandages covered her entire body remarked from the side. ¡°As if those legends could possibly be true. Look kiddo, don¡¯t let yourself be fooled by that uncle. He¡¯s simply a superstitious fool.¡±

    ¡°I think his words do have merits, though. Being cautious hasn¡¯t killed anyone yet,¡± another man with a cast around his left leg said and bandages wound across his head said.

    ¡°And that¡¯s why you¡¯re called Turtle. You¡¯re always caution this, caution that. Give me a break,¡± the woman responded.

    One after another, the surrounding people started to throw their own opinions into the mix, eventually moving their topics away from him. John stayed and listened for a while, but once they started bragging with things like cutting down men like grass or decapitating five warriors in one strike, he decided that it was probably time for him to move on.

    When he finally finished cleaning the last bloody spot in his area, John returned to the entrance, where Ronnie and Jessica were, for once, talking normally. They had rounded up a few chairs and sat opposite of each other, with another empty one to the side. John sat down on it and simply listened in, too occupied with ruminating about the Wall¡¯s words to say anything.

    The doctor finished his rounds a few minutes after John met up with the others. He wiped the sweat off his brow with a handkerchief and sat down for a few moments. One of his assistants immediately started massaging his back. After a relieved sigh, he looked at the trio for a moment, before announcing that they could rest for a few minutes before moving onto the next ward.

    The break was over far too quickly, and soon they were once again following behind the haggard back of their supervisor. The only change was the group of assistants, who seemed to range from middle-aged women to young men in their teens.

    The two groups quickly struck up conversations. Enduring the teasing by the adults and talking with the teens about everything ranging from their daily lives to the training in the Golden Gate, they quickly reached the next ward.

    Unlike the previous one, this ward seemed to be far more sombre. Almost no conversations were taking place, with the moans of wounded men and women dominating the soundscape. Blood- und pus- drenched bandages were a common sight, and the tight rows in which these people were arranged spoke of anything but high sanitary standards.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it dangerous to place these many people so close to each other? I mean, their infection rate must be insane, right?¡± John said when he couldn¡¯t stand the sight any longer. These conditions were simply inhumane, nothing more, and nothing less.

    The doctor turned around to face him. His face was unperturbed, as were those of the assistants behind him. ¡°We don¡¯t have any choice, my boy. Believe me when I say that I would rather place them in conditions befitting their bravery on the battlefield, but it wouldn¡¯t be worth the effort.¡± He looked left and right, making sure that nobody was listening in. When he spoke, his voice was almost a whisper. ¡°Most of them will not come out of here alive. We save who we can, but these soldiers simply lack the superhuman endurance most warriors possess. Unless they have a rich family backing them, they will have to pray for Oriana¡¯s mercy.¡±

    After finishing his piece, the doctor returned to his rounds as if nothing had happened, asking questions and barking out orders with a casualty that spoke of his experience.

    Ronnie sighed and looked at John helplessly. ¡°Warriors shouldn¡¯t be disturbed by this little death, right? I mean¡­¡± He paused for a moment, his eyes that were bluer than the cloudy sky outside darted around, seemingly looking for something on the ground. ¡°After all, I guess we¡¯ll see much more of it.¡± He scratched his head.

    Jessica stared at Ronnie for a moment. Her mouth opened, but closed before any words could spill out. Instead, she simply grabbed a mop and ran off into the farthest corner of what was her side.

    The boy¡¯s gaze locked onto John. ¡°I¡¯m making things awkward again, am I not?¡± Ronnie said with a forced laugh.

    John simply patted him on the shoulder and went to work.

    What was he supposed to say in that situation? That it would become better? That they could prevent such things from occurring again if they only tried hard enough?

    He didn¡¯t have the heart for that.

    So he simply focused on his work, cleaning with a belly of fire. Ignoring the jeers of the marble, he scrubbed and cleaned the ground and beds with utmost concentration. Sweat-drenched and out of breath, he only looked up once he was done with almost three quarters of his area. The tight formation of the beds was making it rather difficult to clean them.

    Along the way, no one had struck up a conversation with him, nor did John intend to do so.

    It would only make the knowledge that they would most likely die a painful death that much worse.

    He looked across the hall, spotting Ronnie and Jessica both talking to the wounded with big smiles on their faces. Their youthful vigour seemed to brighten up the space around them, and quite a few of those who were still capable of talking also smiled.

    Seeing that, John himself couldn¡¯t help but smile, too. They were both good people. Unlike him, they were still filled with an infectious innocent positivity, despite all their bouts of selfish- and childishness. Or perhaps it was just this directness, this lack of any falsehood that made their smiles so radiant.

    ¡°An old man like you sure wouldn¡¯t know. Let these kids have the positivity, you can just submerge yourself in your endless gloom.¡±

    Rolling his eyes, John simply continued scrubbing. That fucking marble and its stupid remarks.

    He glanced at the other two, and the smiles on their faces. Perhaps it did have a point though. Everything was better than drowning in self-pity. Even talking to strangers that were doomed to die.

    After a few minutes, he couldn¡¯t get that thought out of his head anymore. So he gathered his courage, and said out loud, ¡°How¡¯s the weather?¡±

    He was greeted by silence.

    And a bout of suppressed laughter that immediately followed.

 Chapter 16

    ¡°Nice weather we got today, innit?¡± Jessica said with a smile that told John everything he needed to know.

    He didn¡¯t deign these words with an answer. Though stuck in a child¡¯s body, he had by no means sunk to their level. His mental maturity made that impossible.

    ¡°I know right? The overcast clouds are as beautiful as always,¡± Ronnie responded in his stead.

    The two children looked at each other and shared a laugh. Soon, that damned marble joined in, filling his head with a droning laughter.

    Exasperated, John threw his hands up in the air. ¡°It¡¯s been a week and a half! I can¡¯t believe that you guys are so childish!¡±

    Jessica stuck her tongue out at him, whilst Ronnie tried but failed to suppress his laughter.

    ¡°Yeah, whatever,¡± John mumbled. He sat down on his bed and closed his eyes.

    Not willing to put up with them anymore, he searched for the mental tug in his mind, and soon enough he found himself in a dark space illuminated by an omnipresent white fog.

    In the middle of it was a small point of light from which a slow but steady trickle of aether flowed in. It quickly dispersed into all directions, providing him with about as much aether generation as all of his current creations combined. Irritating as the marble might be, it certainly did have its uses.

    John shifted his gaze away from it, focusing on bright ball of fire burning right next to it. He checked its aether generation, clicking his tongue when he realized that it was still wasting almost as much as it created. The net gain was minimal, but at the same time it was a very valuable resource in battles. The worst thing about it was that the aether rate was simply impossible to improve. The only way to do so would be to pump more aether into it, making them hotter. But that brought about the same result as creating more flames!

    It didn¡¯t even make sense to begin with. A self-sustaining fire? What was it burning on? Why did it automatically redirect the aether it was creating to its continued existence? Why the hell did the logs of wood he had placed in it not catch fire unless he willed them to?

    It was absolutely ridiculous. Well, the very notion of some strange space in your mind where you could will things into existence was quite ridiculous to begin with. Most of his attempts to decipher its secrets had gone to waste, and the few insights he had gained didn¡¯t exactly help him either.

    He sighed and descended from his lofty position, finally landing on the cold marble floor on the bottom of the circular space. On the ground were various mangled and misshaped metal parts haphazardly strewn about. With a simple mental wave of his hand, his previous attempt at recreating a pistol dissolved into pure aether. At the same time, a golden throne shot forth from its remote corner of the core, slowing down until it gently came to a halt at just the perfect height to sit down.

    Resting his buttocks on the pre-heated cushions, John started pondering once again.

    It was theoretically possible to replicate a gun. Very much so, even, as his creation of the wooden plank had clearly demonstrated. It wasn¡¯t a problem of the structure. Though energy weapons were far outside his reach, ancient slug-throwers shouldn¡¯t have been a problem at all. With their designs branded into his brain, it should have been an easy task to rise to prominence through the use of this antiquated but nevertheless deadly weaponry.

    But, as always, the devil laid in the details. Frowning, he squinted his eyes as he focused as hard as he could on the mental image of a pistol barrel. Aether rushed in from all corners to form a rough outline of his mental image, but that was already the full extent of his capabilities.

    Outwardly, it looked nearly identical. Much better than his first attempt, which was a mangled piece of metal, at least. However, many small things, like the fine grooves on its insides or the occasional bump and bob in its design, were simply wrong.

    No matter how much John strained his mind, it was nearly impossible to remove these small blemishes. It rebelled and fought back at the very thought of such an endeavour. What was worse that he couldn¡¯t alter its shape after the creation, not without the use of brute force. He could control it, for sure, but that was the extent of his abilities.

    John rolled his eyes. Having delegated the creation of guns into a side-project, he dissolved the failed experiment. He looked up, towards the giant rectangle of water silently hovering in the air, directly above him at the ceiling.

    He let his mind wander, and within a moment, the water deformed as if gripped by gigantic hands. It stretched and expanded, pulsing like a heart for a moment before turning into a transparent knight in full-plate armour. A sword and shield manifested in its hands, the creation causing the watery knight to shrink by a full fifth.

    Next, the fireball exploded into a fiery giant, almost as tall as tall as the space was big. It engulfed close to everything, including even the travel provisions and mostly unused games lying off in some corner, before shrinking down to just double the size of the knight. The smaller it shrunk, however, the more blinding its light became. By the time it stopped, it was too bright to look at with normal eyes.

    With but a mental command, the two elemental creatures began to duke it out with each other.

    Water boiled and fire was extinguished with every exchange. They battled back and forth, across the entire core and even into the invisible barriers.

    The aether in the air rapidly vanished from the space, shrinking with every movement they made. Before it could completely run out, though, John stopped the two giants in the midst of their clash. He cradled his head in his incorporeal hands as he felt a headache coming on.

    ¡°That¡¯s what you get for playing around like that.¡±

    ¡°Not. Now! Headache is killing me.¡±

    ¡°So you don¡¯t even have an excuse to use up an entire day¡¯s worth of aether for your little games?¡±

    Feeling the pain slowly recede, John looked up to the aether fountain caught between the two frozen combatants. ¡°Look, even I get bored at times, okay? I need to destress. This goddamn schedule of running around from place to place, cleaning my ass off all day isn¡¯t exactly what I had in mind when I first came here.¡±

    ¡°Sure, weather boy.¡±

    ¡°Nice try. Now shut up and let me recover.¡±

    He subsequently blended out all attempts of the marble to contact him, focusing on using what little was left of the aether to shift the two giants back into their original forms.

    One hell of a headache later, he was finally done. The watery rectangle was back where it should be, as was the fireball. Whilst he was at it, he also organized the scattered rations and games back into their corners. By the end of it, however, he had almost depleted the entirety of the aether contained in his core. There wasn¡¯t even enough for a short meditation session anymore.

    Once he was sure that everything was alright again, he massaged his temples. ¡°Note to self: Repress stupid thoughts and use more productive methods to destress.¡±

    He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, waiting for time to pass.

    Slowly but surely, white fog trickled in from the aether-fountain and all the various objects he had created, filling the space with a faint white sheen once again. Pointing his right index finger downwards, John directed all the created aether towards the marble floor beneath him.

    White fog rushed in from all directions, past and through him. Square centimetre by square centimetre, it formed into flawless white marble. Thanks to the aether fountain, this went quite a bit faster than it should have, accelerating the positive cycle of aether generation by a fair amount.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    For reasons he had discussed far too often without a clear conclusion, the fountain kept pace with his improved aether generation, doubling it to the¡­particle, strand, Aetherion, or whatever the hell people used to count it.

    This feeling of constant progress was immensely satisfying, almost as good as meditating and without the same amount of focus needed. Were it not for the fact that all the aether in the world would be useless to him if his channels weren¡¯t strong enough to handle it, he would probably be spending all day and night in here.

    After an unknown amount of time passed, he could feel a tremor through his mental link.

    Following it without hesitation, the first thing John saw when he opened his eyes was a golden dragon emblazoned on a pure white back. His teacher was standing in front of the window, his unseen visage probably staring at the bustling streets below. His broad shoulders were squared and his back ramrod straight. There was a certain majesty in that elderly figure John had barely noticed before, one that radiated unwavering steadiness like a fire would heat.

    Then he noticed Ronnie to his left and Jessica to his right, both doing their best to meditate but obviously failing to do so, and the spell was broken. The indomitable warrior turned into an old coot with an omnipresent smile und unfathomable abilities. Awe drained out of him, to be replaced with the complex mixture of feelings he felt for him.

    ¡°Teacher?¡±

    Greg turned around, his trademark smile plastered on his face like the mask he hoped it to be. ¡°Ah, and here I was thinking that you¡¯d never wake up. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m not here on serious business, only to tell you that you should probably fulfil your assigned tasks if you haven¡¯t done so already.¡±

    A bolt of lighting shot through John¡¯s head. Shit! George¡¯s letter!

    Seemingly satisfied with John¡¯s reaction, the old man nodded. ¡°Well, if you don¡¯t need anything else I¡¯ll be on my way.¡±

    Within a moment, he was gone once again, leaving a panicking old man caught in a child¡¯s body and two actual children behind.

    It would be quite a few stressful hours until John would be able to fall asleep.

    <hr>

    Somewhere, far off in the distance, a horn rang. And then another one. And another one.

    John¡¯s eyes shot open with blinding speed, with his mind being not too far off.

    Before he could do anything, an irresistible force grabbed him by the collar and threw him to the ground. His right shoulder hit the ground with a dull thud, followed by the rest of his body. Fortunately, it was strengthened enough not to incur too much damage.

    Another two thuds echoed right next to him. Ronnie and Jessica were similarly lying on the ground. Both seemed to be just as confused, but even more alert than he was.

    The horns blared again. This time, they were much closer. And louder.

    Old instincts took over, and John crawled to the window, searching for something, anything to barricade it. They were in plain sight. The entire room could be picked out by snipers if-

    ¡°John! What the hell are you doing?¡± Jessica shouted whilst looking around with eyes wide open.

    ¡°Th-the windows! I must-¡± John stammered, but stopped himself in time. What was he doing here? He shook his head. ¡°Sorry. I¡¯m ¨C okay, I guess.¡±

    ¡°To all children! Gather in front of the building! Don¡¯t panic! Don¡¯t push!¡± came the voice of a woman from downstairs.

    The trio shared a glance, quickly dressing before rushing down.

    They joined the loud crowd that had gathered below. Children were gathered in the middle, with fully armoured soldiers forming a circle around them. Further ahead stood their teacher, standing prouder and taller than ever. A large metallic staff was rammed into the ground before him, with one hand casually gripping it and the other directing one soldier after another, each shooting offto their own tasks.

    John easily slipped into the middle, where the unrest was quickly growing with every blaring horn. Hushed whispers were everywhere, with every child seeming to have a theory of their own. Figuring that anything else would be a waste of time, John tapped the breastplate of the closest soldier and asked him what was going on.

    ¡°The beasts are attacking,¡± she said.

    The entire crowd of children stopped simultaneously. John could hear teeth cracking from next to him. When he looked, he realized that it was Logan, frozen stiffer than any statue could ever hope to be.

    What was going on? What beasts?

    Greg ripped the staff out of the ground and turned to face them, his amber eyes containing a hint of steel in them. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, my children. The people of Frumentum fear no one! How can we hope to defend our lands when our warriors freeze up at the sight of lowly beasts?¡±, he hollered, loud enough to make John¡¯s earsring.

    That was enough to calm the crowd. The whispers and hushed conversations stilled as the old man continued standing there, shouting orders and gathering information. A few minutes later, he put a hand on his chin and looked downwards, contemplative.

    It snapped upwards again in but a second. ¡°Stay put and wait for my return. If I hear of any trouble you caused,¡± he said, the hint of threat palpable in his voice, ¡°There will be hell to pay.¡± Greg turned to face one the soldiers surrounding them. ¡°Go make sure that everyone is gathered here. I¡¯ll check out the situation on the walls.¡±

    The man saluted and sprinted off. Greg looked over them once more, seemingly counting them with his eyes. Satisfied, he turned once again and jumped to the roof of a nearby building, from whence he shot off towards the ramparts, far above the throngs of moving metal that had formed below him.

    Somehow feeling more threatened than ever before despite the undoubtedly experienced and tough men and women around him, John took a deep breath. Then, he concentrated on that little tug in his mind. A mass of aether bulged out of it, barely within the amount his channels could handle, before finally exiting from his right palm and manifesting as his trusty halberd.

    It was still completely wooden, something he was of a mind to change sooner rather than later, and heavier and harder than any natural wood had a right to be. Once it landed in his hands, his furiously beating heart began to calm.

    No matter who or what came at him, he would have the ability to at least protect himself.

    It seemed like the people around him were of the same mind, as more and more weapons kept showing up, as well as the occasional suit of armour that had definitely not been included in their curriculum.

    Looking around for familiar faces, John quickly found Ronnie standing next to Jessica, Andrea and an armoured Logan. He approached without hesitating for a moment, pushing his way through other cliques that seemed to have instinctively formed.

    ¡°John! You damn dimwit, come over here quickly, who knows when something could show up!¡±, Logan whispered as loud as his vocal cords allowed him to.

    Looking at the soldiers surrounding them, John smiled. ¡°What¡¯s the stress for? We¡¯re in the middle of Camp Verdant.¡±

    Andrea, Logan and Jessica shushed him with a venomous look. ¡°Shut up if you don¡¯t understand,¡± Andrea hissed. She waved the massive spiked club in her hands around threateningly. ¡°Just ¨C Come here and join us.¡±

    Just at that moment, the ground trembled. The entire crowd of children tumbled, hitting each other and the surefooted soldiers alike. Just as it seemed to have calmed down, a faint cacophony of booms and bestial roars came from beyond the great walls that suddenly didn¡¯t seem quite as reassuring anymore.

    After getting an elbow to the face, John was scrambling to remain upright, but was finally knocked down by some other kid ramming into him from behind. Dirt and grass and numerous weapons rammed into him, as well as the bodies of what felt like his entire class. The high-pitched screams around him were deafening, but what topped it all was a roar that penetrated him to the core.

    ¡°Well well, looks like some bigshot amongst beasts has arrived. It seems to be duking it out with your teacher, by the way.¡±

    ¡°Endless seas above,¡± John heard one of the nearby soldiers mumble as he pushed and shoved his way up the writhing pile of warm human flesh.

    By the time he had managed to fight his way out, the sky in the direction Greg had run off to was burning a bright, endless and fiery crimson.

    And John simply stared at the terrifically terrifying spectacle, frozen in the middle of standing up. Booms and screams, roars and the clacks the metallic sabatons of half-lit soldiers and warriors hitting the ground, more shadow than man in the dark, as well as the fire in the distance and the flickering lights barely visible over the walls interweaved into an ominous spectacle.

    It was impossible to rip one¡¯s eyes away from this surreal scene. And in John¡¯s mind, past and present seemed to interweave until he could have sworn that he heard the impossible sizzling of energy beams melting a target right next to him into molten mush.

    A hand landed on his shoulder and roughly turned him around. He came face to face with Ronnie, who didn¡¯t seem quite as pressured or afraid as the rest. And they simply stared at each other for a moment, both searching for something they didn¡¯t find in the other¡¯s face.

    The moment was quickly broken as the tremors became weaker and the rest of the children got up. This time, there was nary a whisper. Only silent awe and perhaps a pinch of fear.

    John didn¡¯t know how long it took for the fight to end. It may have been minutes, but it could just well have been hours. By the time it did, however, he and the other children had already put on more layers of clothing due to the penetrating chill of the dark night.

    Gradually the noises started to die down. Small groups of injured soldiers were constantly being transported back on stretchers. They carried their fallen, bloody and often unconscious comrades to the field hospital as quickly as their feet allowed them to.

    And then, slowly, came the uninjured soldiers, who returned with bruises and dents half-dried bloodstains on their armours. Their faces were grim and their conversations hushed, quieting immediately once they noticed their group and only resuming once they were out of earshot.

    Then came the warriors and the bulk of the troops, dragging massive carcasses of various predatory beasts through the streets. They left blood and entrails in their wake, slowly but surely transporting their loot to what John presumed to be massive halls where they would be butchered and processed.

    Their teacher came back quite a while after the battle had died down, unarmed, with his hair somewhat singed at the ends and a certain stiffness in his gait. He had changed garments, and when he walked by there was a smell of flowers around him which John certainly didn¡¯t recall being the case before.

    The old man brushed any and all questions about what happened outside off, simply ordering them to get some rest before they¡¯d set off first thing tomorrow morning.

    Too tired to even question the happenings of the day anymore, John simply crashed onto his bed. As if a dam had been broken, John¡¯s eyes lost focus once they touched the pillow.

    Questions could wait until tomorrow. For now, it was time to sleep.

 Chapter 17

    It was a long, restless night, full of questions and an almost obligatory lack of sleep. By the time the first rays of the sun peeked over the tall ramparts surrounding the city, most people inside Camp Verdant had barely gotten a whiff of shut-eye, most due to work keeping them from doing so, but some, like John, were kept awake by the events that transpired outside.

    He was still thinking about it, even after having been forced to wake up and assemble in yawning lines. Seemingly uncaring about the fact that injuries normally took time to heal, the old man looked fitter than ever as he stood before them, his face frowning in an almost spectacularly grim way.

    He counted them once again before they set off. John and the other children hurrying after him as best as their short legs allowed, but the old man¡¯s gait was vast and his pace unmatchable.

    It was only his exceptionally bad mood and perhaps the seeds of fear buried in the hearts of the children that allowed them to barely keep up whilst keeping the complaints at a bare minimum.

    ¡®At least we don¡¯t have any luggage,¡¯ flashed through John¡¯s mind as he remembered the oh so very brief marching drills that the modern military fortunately found as obsolete as the swords in the age of starships.

    They pushed through throngs after throngs of fully armoured men and women marching in perfect formation, as well as normal civilians, blood-covered soldiers and what he presumed to be butchers, if their bloody aprons were any indication.

    It was an organized chaos, with every person on the street seeming to have their own monumentally important agenda. To John, it felt like being inside an ant in a hive that had been roused from its slumber.

    So many people crowded the streets that John¡¯s distraction-seeking-mind couldn¡¯t help but wonder where all of them had even come from. There must have been thousands upon thousands of people gathered here, far more than even the amount of people attending the festivities.

    With so many people here, how did the logistics keep up? Transporting this much food, weapons and other wares into Camp Verdant and then administering them must be a true nightmare to everyone involved. Not to mention how they managed to do that without the constant rumbling of carriages or-

    John remembered the ridiculous abilities of warriors, and most of his thoughts dissolved into hot air. Things really were different in this new world of his, after all.

    They marched onward, most conversations that had been going on drowned out by the cacophony of crowds. The closer they got to the walls, the more bustling the scene became. Civilians and soldiers alike hurried about, busily working on whatever tasks they may have had. Every now and then, the entire main street had to make way for mutilated beast corpses as tall as houses, dragged by the combined force of dozens of people.

    The first one they came across was a massive bear, its one intact eye that could have fit John¡¯s body inside still wide open. The other one had been busted open, showing its grossly white and pink interior. The rest of its body was riddled with wounds, ranging from small scratches to a large gash at the neck that nearly decapitated it.

    Before John could stare at this daunting sight for too long, he was pushed along by his laughing and cheering classmates. They seemed extremely cheerful at the grotesque sight, which, considering that this probably wasn¡¯t as abnormal as he thought, John could quite understand. Such a huge beast would undoubtedly consume vast amounts of food, and would surely become a disastrous calamity for all farmers it lived in the vicinity of.

    Then again, if the other beasts were just as huge, then perhaps its own size wasn¡¯t that exaggerated. John made a mental note to ask about the local ecology. Perhaps their increased needs were balanced by aether, too?

    As time passed, even humongous herbivores, or at least what he presumed to be herbivores due to their glaring lack of child-sized razor sharp teeth, passed by them.

    It honestly didn¡¯t make sense. The whole attack didn¡¯t. Just what would these beasts have to gain from eating humans? And even if there was some sort of grand mystic reward to be gained from eating humans, why attack a heavily fortified base teeming with superhuman personnel? Aside from an unanimous decision to commit mass-suicide unhindered by race and species, John couldn¡¯t really think of a plausible reason.

    By the time they had gotten out of the human quagmire the vicinity of the walls had turned into, John¡¯s clothes were already drenched in sweat. Fortunately, that very same mass of people seemed hellbent on avoiding the walls themselves, granting him a fair amount of breathing space once they got out of it.

    They passed the tense guards and battered gates, walking through the gateway turned tunnel through the wall, where the noisy soundscape slowly quieted to an almost comfortable din.

    It took them a few minutes to walk out of the gateway, and once they did, John¡¯s jaw hit the ground, anchoring him to it as his mind strained to process the things it was seeing.

    A literal sea of blood. Gaping brown holes in the otherwise lushly green landscape dotted with red stains that were already starting to fill with diluted blood and rainwater. Craters and cracks on the walls stretching into the distance. And, perhaps most terrifyingly of all, the corpse of what could only be described as an earthen brown oversized dragon nestled in between two hills.

    Were it not for the pools of crimson blood and massive craters and ravines on both its body and the hills trapping it, then perhaps it could have managed to pass as an extremely peculiarly shaped hill.

    One that had the shape of an oversized reptilian flipped on its back, with the broken legs standing proudly in the air. The belly had been completely torn up, and a steady stream of humans were transporting things back and forth from a road John didn¡¯t remember existing at the time of their arrival.

    The very fact that humans had managed to slay this massive beast was a feat that John couldn¡¯t quite wrap his mind around. How do you even slay something a hundred times bigger than yourself with medieval technology? Catapults, perhaps? Or magic?

    Loud cheers interrupted his thoughts.

    The passing soldiers with free hands were either clapping or nodding their heads with reverence towards their teacher. There were big and tired smiles on their drenched faces, with various remarks being thrown around. The one that stuck to John the most, however, was ¡°Dragonslayer¡±.

    John blinked. He looked at the massive slain beast, laying there like a remnant of a divine war, and then at the admittedly tall and stalwart, but nevertheless human figure of his teacher. Back and forth his gaze went, as if doing so would allow him to figure out just how that old man had managed to accomplish this inhuman feat.

    And then John caught sight of the golden dragon emblazoned on the old man¡¯s back, and he gained an inkling. Things still didn¡¯t make sense, but he felt like he was on to something.

    The children around him were first stunned, then elated. With serious expressions on their faces, discussions about how he could have done that and whether they would be able to do the same one day broke out.

    What they didn¡¯t notice was that the pace of the old man in the lead had slowed, not much, but just enough to allow them talk and walk at the same time without running out of breath.

    <hr>

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    The journey back was long and filled with beast encounters. It seemed like the roads had lost the enchantments that caused beasts to instinctively shy away from them, for many a time they came across cracks, animal tracks or even entire missing sections. Which meant that they had to walk under rain and mud that much more often.

    It wasn¡¯t rare for them to come across long caravans heading into the same direction as them, albeit quite a bit faster, or smaller troops of soldiers almost running past them with tired and sweaty faces.

    Beast Tide seemed to have become a magic word in the taverns they rested in, circulated only in whispers and hushed conversations. The adults were anxious, which in turn unsettled the children.

    From Ronnie and the others, John learned that this wasn¡¯t the first time such things that completely went against the survival instincts of every animal had occurred. Though various smaller outbreaks would occur occasionally, large ones on this scale were rarely seen in the lifetimes of their parents.

    It was eventually confirmed by their teacher, who became moodier and grimmer with every passing day.

    He often vanished when they were on break or sleeping, returning with the smell of blood and gore clinging to him like a cloak. Of course, he never deigned to offer an explanation, but he didn¡¯t need to. Everyone knew what he was doing, and there was certainly no one who complained about it.

    Their training time was extended little by little every day. Small minutes that, when piled up, turned into torturous sessions that lasted for eternities. In order to not delay their arrival despite that, breaks were cut and their pace accelerated even further.

    After a week and a half of such torture on the road, they finally stood in front of Frumentum again. It seemed like this grand capital of human civilization was unaffected by the recent events, with its unblemished golden walls shining like a sun in the foggy and rainy season.

    Too tired to look for details that would prove their first impression wrong, they hurried through the customs, past the noisy streets and new beggars into the more affluent parts where the Golden Gate was located.

    The guards, standing ramrod straight in the presence of their teacher, seemed to be as idle as ever. They were watching the steady stream of people flowing in and out of the main gate with confident ease, their platemail managing to glimmer even with the sun being hidden behind innumerable clouds.

    The two of them nodded towards them before proceeding to watch the long line again.

    Their group gave back various greetings ranging from nods to cheeky remarks whilst they passed the duo.

    They mingled amongst the finely dressed ladies and gentlemen intent on visiting their home, eventually separating once they spied upon their ever so familiar field of choice. The sky was already dimming, making the shapes and forms of the people gathered as well as that of the sand underneath them somewhat hazy.

    The old man gathered his pupils in a semicircle around himself, allowing them to plop their tired rears onto the unyielding sand below. It scratched and itched when it managed to find its way into their clothes, but it beat the sensation of endlessly walking by billions of times.

    Greg folded his arms in front of his chest, staring at them somewhat absentmindedly. He waited until he had their absolute attention before he spoke up.

    ¡°You did well,¡± he said. ¡°Exceptionally so.¡± He started tapping the ground with his foot, his expression ambiguous in the waning light. ¡°Your superiors were full of praise, saying that you were much better than many of the previous batches that had worked there. You also did admirably on the road, save for the occasional slip up.¡±

    ¡°But good does not suffice. Not anymore. Due to some cruel twist of fate, the beasts have chosen to rise up once again. If you¡¯re lucky, it might be over before you even know it. Perhaps we could quell the source of these tumults in the next few weeks, buying us precious years of peace.¡±

    He swept his eyes that had somehow gained an ethereal glow across them, fixing them in place. ¡°I don¡¯t think so though. The last time a Beast Tide of this size had broken out was during the Founding Age, where the beasts had yet to learn to fear mankind.¡± He paused and sighed. His shoulders sagged somewhat. ¡°It lasted an entire decade, that one. Who can tell me what it came to be known as nowadays?¡±

    A few hands shot in the air, and he randomly picked one out.

    ¡°Blood Baptism,¡± came Andrea¡¯s voice from the other end of the semicircle. ¡°The beasts managed to lay siege Frumentum itself. Had it not been for the Founder¡¯s timely slaying of their beast king, they might have managed to breach our then still immature and low walls.¡±

    The old man nodded. ¡°Correct.¡± He cleared his throat, and John couldn¡¯t help but notice the muscles hidden underneath the bulky sleeves tensing underneath the thing fabric. ¡°I lived through it.¡±

    ¡°Horrible times, I can assure you that. Even though we have come far in the last two centuries, and it would need a much bigger Beast Tide than the current one to reach or even ¨C Oriana forbid ¨C breach Frumentum¡¯s walls, that doesn¡¯t mean you¡¯re going to be safe.¡±

    ¡°It is in times like this that warriors shine the brightest. All warriors, trainees like you included, will be taking part in the upcoming extermination of the beasts.¡±

    They gulped in unison. Was the geezer serious? Strengthened as they might be, how were children supposed to face beasts the size of buildings? If they were to actually come to blows with these monsters, they¡¯d be slaughtered.

    It seemed like John wasn¡¯t the only one to think that, for almost all of the children exchanged uneasy glances. No one dared to talk at a time like this, but they probably all realized what the outcome of a fight with a beast would turn out like.

    With a wave of their teacher¡¯s hand, a gentle and somehow calming breeze washed over them. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it too much. No one in their right minds likes wasting potential, especially not that of warriors that haven¡¯t grown even near their full potential. At most you¡¯ll be tasked with dispatching some minor pups, and if you lost to even those-¡° The creepy smile they hadn¡¯t seen in more than a week found its way on the old man¡¯s face, causing shivers to run up and down John¡¯s spine. ¡°Then you never deserved to be called warriors of Frumentum in the first place.¡±

    ¡°What reassuring words,¡± John and the marble thought in unison.

    Seemingly satisfied with their reaction, the old man put his hands behind his back, his expression returning to normal. ¡°From tomorrow onwards, your new training regiment will be put in place. I recommend sincerely giving it 110%, for if our warriors don¡¯t solve this problem quickly we¡¯ll have to depart on missions before the start of harvest season.¡±

    He let his words sink in, perhaps even only enjoying the depressing silence that ensued. ¡°Rest whilst you can. We shall see each other tomorrow morning,¡± he stated more than said, proceeding to walk off into the dimming distance.

    Once he was out of sight, the entire group broke into an unprecedented commotion. Sighing whilst the others started discussing things he couldn¡¯t be bothered to listen to, he made his way towards Ronnie, who was located in the middle of the semicircle, and tapped him on the shoulder. There were more important questions on his mind.

    ¡°How long until the harvest season?¡±

    Still sitting, Ronnie scratched his head whilst looking up at the sky. ¡°I dunno. A few months, maybe?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s quite the optimistic estimation you have there,¡± Jessica, who had at some point appeared next to them, interjected. ¡°It¡¯s probably gonna be weeks. So I guess we need to serious buckle up and throw ourselves into training.¡± The girl bit her lip. ¡°I heard Andrea say that even those so-called pups are bigger and stronger than your average adult.¡±

    John groaned. Great. Just exactly what he needed. Facing monsters at the tender age of¡­somewhere in the single digits. Age was a tricky thing if you didn¡¯t have the slightest clue about your birthday.

    ¡°How does she even know that? I mean, couldn¡¯t she have simply made that up?¡± John asked, perhaps more desperate than hopeful.

    Somewhere at the edge of his vision, Andrea¡¯s characteristically perfectly groomed blonde hair swivelled around. Before he knew it, a pair of vibrantly green eyes were fixing him up with a cold glare.

    ¡°Don¡¯t doubt others when you have no clue,¡± she spat. ¡°Believe me, even those damned pups are capable of tearing fully grown warriors apart if there are enough of them. I¡¯ve seen it with my own eyes.¡±

    ¡°You what?¡±

    She looked away. ¡°I¡¯ve seen it with my own eyes, okay? Look, I just want what¡¯s best for us,¡± she said, sighed and then turned around, resuming her conversation with Logan, who, for once, seemed more than willing to listen.

    ¡°What¡¯s her deal?¡± John asked, quiet enough to probably not be overheard.

    Ronnie shrugged, and Jessica put a hand on her chin. She began stroking a non-existent beard. ¡°I think she was sent here after her parents were killed in a Beast Tide. It would explain her extreme hatred towards animals,¡± she said.

    John nodded slowly. A lack of parents wasn¡¯t anything special in their little group, or the entirety of the Golden Gate, for that matter.

    He scratched his head, somewhat unsure of what to do. They hadn¡¯t had much free time in the last one and a half month. He had gotten used to having one matter or another to attend to, so much so that this complete absence of tasks was somewhat disconcerting.

    Training would be effective and efficient, but they would be doing more than enough of that in the days to come. Studying would be good, but he wasn¡¯t exactly in the mood to deal with that insufferable librarian jealously guarding his books like treasures only to get some children¡¯s books.

    Someone shouted right next to him, and then a hand slapped his shoulder.

    ¡°You¡¯re it!¡± Ronnie shouted before running away.

    ¡°Wai- what?¡±

    John looked around, and the other children were running away from him at top speed.

    ¡®How the hell had they gone from worriedly discussing their future do playing tag in such a short amount of time? Just what the hell is going on in the heads of these kids?¡¯ He thought for the briefest of moments before coming to a decision.

    ¡°Come here you damn twerp!¡± John shouted as he chased after Logan.

    In the end, after playing for an entire day, John sank into his bed and shed a tear for his supposed maturity.

 Chapter 18

    Time had a tendency to pass quickly once you settled into a fixed routine. Even if said routine was monotonous and torturous, lasting for hours at a time and left you completely exhausted.

    During these relentless weeks of training, nary a word of the situation outside reached John¡¯s ears. However, that, combined with the fact that the so-called nobility came in greater numbers with each passing day, couldn¡¯t possibly bode well.

    There was a nervous air in the Golden Gate, spread from the adults to the children. No one, from the youngest orphans just recently pried from the clutches of the streets, to the ambitious young men and women about to enlist in the military, was spared from its influence. The normally empty training fields were filled to the brim with growing men and women, sweating and training in the humid air in preparation for what would be the first real experience in real combat for the youngest, and one test amongst many for the rest.

    To be honest, the fact that they would all have to join the military for a mandatory service time of ten years after graduation shouldn¡¯t have surprised John as much as it did. Everything, from the very fact that they trained in the art of war every single day, to the smaller things like not even mentioning that warriors could become something other than - well, warriors. With their immense capabilities, it seemed like more than a waste to use them as mere soldiers.

    Though unable to verify his doubts due to a lack of trustworthy people above the age of eighteen willing to answer them, he was sure that all these rocks and walls and golden bricks had to come from somewhere. And unless their purified forms were randomly lying around in the right sizes, there really wasn¡¯t the industry to support such an empire seemingly built upon stone and gold.

    Not like that mattered all that much. He would have to survive those first ten years of service first. A deeply sobering thought that only caused the bags under his eyes to expand as training slowly began to take over his entire life.

    From dusk to dawn and somewhat beyond, he dedicated his life to becoming stronger, better, faster. Though training was invaluable to soldiers in any age, battlefields dominated by cold weaponry had a far, far greater reliance on it.

    Any random civilian could kill a masterful martial artist who had trained for decades if trained properly for a day and given a gun and some distance. Try killing the same person with a sword or spear in your hand, and your chances of dying have just multiplied manifold.

    Days and weeks passed, and finally, things happened as they had to. Sooner than John would have liked it, the rain gradually stopped. It was a gradual process, unnoticeable to all but the most aware, one people only became aware of once the torrential downfall turned into a drizzle, and then stopped entirely. The grey clouds overhead stayed around, as if unwilling to give up their dominion over the sky. But they, too, would eventually part and reveal the azure sea beyond them once more.

    Time moved on regardless of the state of the clouds. The end of the rain meant the beginning of autumn, the season of harvest and the end of their preparatory phase.

    The smell of washed up earth pervaded the air like a heavy blanket, suffocating all beneath it when John and the rest finally assembled in their training field on the next day. They had all become more haggard in the weeks that had passed, the students from a lack of sleep and the teacher from whatever mysterious tasks he was accomplishing when he wasn¡¯t observing them like a hawk, popping out at the most unexpected places when they least expected it.

    At the very least, their training had gone nicely, though John couldn¡¯t fathom why they didn¡¯t practice fighting in groups. It hopefully simply meant that they were assigned to support roles, basking in the safety of their older peers.

    Of course no one told them whether that was an actual possibility, perhaps due to the realistic fear of them losing the motivation to pull off the very much murderous training.

    As John looked around, he glimpsed at a few groups that had already started marching through the thick foliage, more hearing their uniform footsteps than seeing them. Other groups were like his, gathered in their training fields and undoubtedly discussing things of paramount importance before marching onwards.

    He was pulled back to reality by the firm voice of his teacher. ¡°¡­have trained hard in the last weeks, and I hope you will be able to prove the fruits of your labour against worthy adversaries and not die under the claws of a far more powerful beast than any of you could handle,¡± he said. His face remained impassive, with not a hint of a smile. ¡°Don¡¯t think that won¡¯t happen. It has happened before, and I¡¯d rather not lose students to gross overestimation.¡±

    The words seemed to have their intended effect, as the enthusiasm of a certain few blockheads ¨C John couldn¡¯t help but sneak a peek at Logan, who was hanging his head and shifting the sand with his feet - waned. This finally brought a smile to the old man¡¯s face.

    Their teacher looked at them for a moment, grin fading a bit as he said the next words. ¡°Since this entails quite a bit more danger than our previous excursion, it has been decided that each teacher must take an additional helper with them, in order to ensure that no mishaps happen.¡± He waited for the oohs and aahs to pass before clapping twice, his smile turning wry. A woman, taller than most men yet still a bit shorter than their ridiculously tall teacher, stepped out from behind him. Her hazel hair wound in a tight ponytail, the all-too-familiar woman smiled at them kindly.

    Not really noticing that, John only wondered how the hell she managed to hide behind him and remain unnoticed.

    ¡°Hey kids! Some of you might know me already, but let me introduce myself just in case.¡± She laid a hand upon her chest. ¡°My name¡¯s Franziska, and I will be watching and teaching you alongside your esteemed teacher for the next few weeks. Don¡¯t cause any trouble, and we will get along just fine.¡±

    There was silence for a brief moment as the children collectively looked at their teacher, and an approving nod quickly caused enthusiastic greetings to erupt. Especially the girls seemed to be drawn to the older woman, eventually splitting off from the boys who stayed with their old teacher.

    ¡°Kids¡­¡± the marble vocalised John¡¯s thoughts, scoffing despite remaining with the other boys.

    The old man looked at them. ¡°What are you waiting for? I won¡¯t show you any favouritism just because you¡¯re too dumb to suck up to your new charge. Shoo, familiarize yourselves with this nice lady.¡±

    After quite a lot of shuffled sand, John, for once feeling like the adult he was somewhere under that childish shell of his, sighed and joined the other group, where the girls were enthusiastically asking the older woman all sorts of questions, some more, others less appropriate. Franziska winked when she saw him, but her attention was quickly diverted by some freckle-nosed girl John often saw around Jessica, asking some question about her husband. What was her name again? Lydia?

    The other boys quickly joined him in standing outside the circle of enthusiastic girls, some of them occasionally throwing in a question or snide remark, yet feeling remarkably left out by the group that had formed within seconds. It was as funny as it was sad, for even when they tried to fit in, they were met with quickly ignored glares or shoved out as quickly as they intruded.

    Giving up their futile struggle, most of the boys gave up and returned to the old man. Perhaps emboldened by the friendliness and surprising willingness to answer questions about herself that Franziska showed, Logan stared up at him with his best puppy eyes and asked, ¡°Teacher, are you married?¡±

    The old man gave him a pointed stare, one eyebrow rising above the other as the wrinkles overlapped on his forehead. ¡°Listen, unlike the lady over there I¡¯m not your friend. I¡¯m your teacher, and we shall remain in that relationship until you graduate.¡± His eyes wandered over them, daring another to step forth and try.

    Needless to say, none did. His amber eyes were radiating a presence that cowed them like a predator would its natural prey. Greg, as John resolved to never call him anywhere but in his thoughts, blinked, and the heavy pressure se upon them vanished as if it had never existed in the first place. ¡°I could perhaps reconsider once you¡¯ve brought honour and glory upon me and the Golden Gate,¡± he added, low and quiet enough that they could barely hear them.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°He¡¯s a wise one, I¡¯m telling ya. Nothing good comes out of associating with your pupils. Only makes them more unruly and¡­¡±

    John closed his eyes and groaned, though for entirely different reasons than his classmates. That damned marble still couldn¡¯t shut its mouth, interrupting with its monologues whenever it found an opening.

    Together, they waited in an awkward silence until the enthusiastic Franziska seemed to have hit the limits of her patience, gently yet firmly ordering the girls to take up rank and file once more. They did so with giggles and happy affirmations, probably happy at meeting someone willing to answer their questions, off-topic as they might have been.

    Her smile now slightly strained, Franziska resumed her position slightly behind their teacher, giving him a nod. Greg closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. ¡°It¡¯s time then. Brace your feet and prepare to march, we¡¯ll probably arrive tomorrow at dusk if we hurry.¡±

    He marched onwards, a middle-aged woman and a small horde of children following behind.

    <hr>

    Their destination was a small outpost, close enough to Frumentum to avoid taking the brunt of the rampaging hordes, yet far enough that a certain level of danger was still present. Faint shadows moved back and forth on the thick stone walls carrying the insignia of Frumentum, the soldiers ever vigilant in these trying times. Entering without any fuss, a soldier soon led them to the stone house that would become their base of operations for the time being. Around it were a dozen more stone buildings, all tightly packed together by the high walls and held apart by cobbled roads.

    From the neighbouring houses, John could make out the voices of children. How many groups did the Golden Gate send here? They couldn¡¯t possibly have much more than two or three classes of orphans in their age group, could they? Children, especially groups of them, weren¡¯t exactly unnoticeable. They tended to talk, scream, fight and play pranks on each other, loud enough that they very hard to miss if you lived close by.

    Putting these things out of his mind with a sigh, he sat down on his rock-hard bed and proceeded to massage his feet with aching hands. Somehow, he had deluded himself into thinking that walking all day long wouldn¡¯t be an arduous affair, despite all prior experience pointing towards the opposite. Especially with the noisy little voice inside his head nagging away at everything. Why couldn¡¯t it just stop for a moment?

    ¡°I think you should¡­rest for a while,¡± Ronnie said. He was lying on his own bed on the opposite side of the room, his diary, which was essentially a bundle of paper bound by a rudimentary leather cover, discarded somewhere on the edge, almost falling off but never entirely doing so. ¡°Sometimes you just stare off into space and start cursing under your breath. Or your mood completely swings from happy to annoyed in a second. The old men on the streets got like that, too, when they pushed themselves too hard for too long.¡±

    John stopped and looked up. He smiled weakly. ¡°I guess I should, yeah.¡±

    Swinging his legs onto the criminally thin mattress, he turned to face the wall. Bad habits, that¡¯s what all of these things amounted to. He had managed to tame them, once, training himself to completely ignore the literal voice in the back of his head when other people were around. But a years of homelessness didn¡¯t exactly help with self-control, nor did the events that led him up to that point.

    But the situation was different now. He was different now. The past may lay the groundwork for the future, who was to say that foundations couldn¡¯t be changed out?

    He smiled, more at the lull in the endless monologue in his head than at his own thoughts. He was stuck in a child¡¯s body anyway. Why not embrace this unique period of learning and change whilst no one would blame him for it. He had, what? Seven, eight years? Perhaps ten?

    ¡®More than enough time to grow powerful enough to make my own damn decisions,¡¯ he thought to himself in the voice of the old friend whose name still remained a mystery.

    Sometimes John thought him to be more of a concept than a real person, an imaginary wise and fierce warrior persona that fought and bled for his ambitions. Someone he could have been, but ultimately declined to be.

    But then came the vivid memories, so fresh as if nary a day had passed instead of decades, and that notion was quickly discarded as quickly as it came.

    Their first meeting, the revelation of the marble, the start of the rebellion and so much more. It seemed so cohesive, so nicely fitting together that he could have believed it if not for the specks and fragments of memories that were definitely his, yet so foreign at the same time. They appeared in his dreams, showing him a different life. A more peaceful one, far from the ravages of war and stress of supporting a growing galactic empire.

    Which version should he believe?

    Which version could he believe?

    Perhaps none. Maybe they were all implanted, a tool to mould him into a suitable pawn for the marble¡¯s plans, however unlikely that may seem.

    His memories had been tempered with, that was the only thing John was sure of. The marble deflected or didn¡¯t answer whenever he asked, and it was too great an asset and too fierce an enemy to fight against on suspicion alone.

    John closed his eyes and sighed. Why was it that it turned out like this whenever he was seeking for peace and calm? His thoughts just wouldn¡¯t leave him alone unless he was preoccupied with other things. Perhaps that¡¯s why he loved and hated Meditation so much. It was a time of pure focus, minutes and hours spent guiding the aether through his channel in absolute concentration. But at the same time it left him highly vulnerable, completely oblivious to the outside world until someone touched him or he ran out of aether.

    Stewing and brewing with his thoughts, John only gradually eased into sleep after hours.

    The rising sun was already looming behind roofs and walls of stone by the time he woke up, throwing deep shadows across the stony landscape. Too busy with lamenting over the loss of an entire afternoon he could have spent productively, John barely spared it a glance before returning his attention to the room.

    Ronnie was still fast asleep in his bed, his limps sprawled across the narrow confines of the bed with one leg dangling off the side and nearly touching the ground. His blanket had been twisted into some sort of hybrid between a rope and a robe, twisting and coiling around his body like a snake suffocating its victim.

    It was mostly quiet, safe for the faintest sounds of metallic boots drumming on the ground and Ronnie¡¯s soft snores. No monologue in his head, either, which was a good sign. On most days, it needed a prompt to start speaking. Something to kickstart a mumbled conversation, which finally devolved into a monologue once he stopped paying attention. He intended to drag this moment of peace out for as long as possible.

    Too awake to fall asleep and yet lacking any real motivation to stand up, John remained lying on his bed, clutching his blanket and meditating for what his foggy mind was worth.

    The arduous concentration quickly brought clarity to his mind, and he quickly lost himself in the endless streams of aether cycling through his body. Out his core and into his channels the aether went, steadily pushing onwards into smaller and smaller branches all over and in his body. Normally, this was where it would end. But not today. It felt like he could go even deeper, beyond the physical limits of his channels and into something words couldn¡¯t quite describe. All it would take was one final push, one last burst of aether¡­

    With an almost audible snap, the aether rebounded. It crashed into the narrow walls in the deepest depths of his body, stretching them to their very limits and a bit further.

    His eyes snapped open in shock, but at first, he felt nothing at all, as if the sensation from before had been but a trick of his mind. But slowly, a tingling took over his entire body, which increased to a faint burning. And then came the pain. Fierce, torturous, debilitating pain all over his body at the same time. Like someone had let out a bomb inside and outside of him at the same time, the two forces barely keeping themselves in check so that his body didn¡¯t explode in a shower of mangled flesh and bones, but merely pain that could reduce a grown man into a crying, sobbing mess.

    It must have lasted for an eternity, eroding his will to live in a fiery inferno of the worst pain man could imagine. Had it not been for the cool tendrils emerging out of nowhere at some point, John might have chosen to end this second life of his right then and there, just so he wouldn¡¯t have to suffer any more. They eased along his channels, eliminating the pain and bringing a sense of comfort that he clung onto like a drowning man to floating wood.

    In a moment, the pain was gone, erased by the tendrils of what he now recognized as foreign aether retreating into the confines of his core.

    With a gasp, John¡¯s mind was flung out of the insides of his body. With a hammering heart and a body soaking in sweat, his eyes bulged out as he patted his body down in spasms. Feeling nothing amiss and hearing no one rushing towards him, it couldn¡¯t have lasted for too long. His screams would have awoken the entire outpost, otherwise.

    ¡°What the fuck,¡± he said in between gasps. ¡°What the actual fuck?!¡±

    He gulped, and continued patting his body down. Nothing. Just as he was about to wonder whether he had truly gone insane, a familiar voice came into his mind, for once not aggravating or condescending, but enraged. ¡°What in the actual void where you thinking! You bloody idiot, did you plan on killing us? If it weren¡¯t for my fast reaction, you would in the best case have become crippled! Or worse, killed us both in a massive aether rebound!¡±

    His head still spinning, John took a moment to process these words. ¡°What was I even doing?¡±

    ¡°Hell if I know! You humans and your cultivation system are a complete mystery to me. Try asking your teacher the next time you see him, but do not! Attempt! That! Again!¡±

    Wanting to do so right away but realizing that he would do so at an ungodly time, John fell back onto his stone-hard mattress, pulled the pillow over his head and sighed.

    He hadn¡¯t even started fighting against the beasts and almost died already.

    What a way to start the day.

 Chapter 19

    Greg folded his arms in front of his chest, studying John with all the care he could muster. His amber eyes, more like headlights than anything else, searched the boy¡¯s face for any untruths he might have hidden. After an entire minute of searching and repeated questions about the accident that had happened in the morning, the old man closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

    The sun was shining through layers of clouds into the window, deepening the wrinkles on the old teacher¡¯s face into canyons. A suffocating silence filled the room, with neither of the two (or three, as the marble assured John) participants speaking.

    Finally, after minutes of silence, Greg¡¯s eyes opened and fixated upon John¡¯s face. ¡°This shouldn¡¯t be happening,¡± he said. ¡°What you have just described is something that should happen much, much later. In months at the earliest.¡± He held a finger up to stop John¡¯s coming interruption. ¡°We call it Germination, for it is at this time that your channels spread their roots into your entire being, thus enabling you to sense aether even without having to concentrate. Normally, it isn¡¯t even all that important to teach you something like that. Because in addition to being in the far future, it¡¯s just one of the things that happen once your body has been saturated with a certain amount of aether. There shouldn¡¯t be any side effects, like your aether rebounding. Or horrible pain.¡± The old man frowned, once again sinking into his thoughts.

    ¡°What does ¡®entire being¡¯ even mean? I mean, my channels are already connected to every part of me, right? Where else could they possibly go to?¡±

    Greg blinked, then sighed. ¡°Right, this wasn¡¯t part of your curriculum.¡± He cleared his throat, his face becoming even more serious as he entered what John liked to call ¡®Teaching Mode¡¯. ¡°A person is not just composed of their physical parts, or there wouldn¡¯t be any warriors in the first place.¡± A transparently hollow figurine appeared on his palm. ¡°This is your body. Your anchor in this world that lets you interact with it.¡±

    A long, intricate web of thicker and thinner strings that culminated in the head appeared inside the figurine, vaguely tracing the outline of a human¡¯s circulatory system. Like the roots of a three, they were the thickest at the core and torso and became increasingly thinner the further you got away from them.

    ¡°These are your channels and core, and they are what allows your aether to interact with the physical world.¡± A smirk, not his trademark smile, but a genuine one appeared on his face. ¡°They are tricky things, for a dissection of a human body will only show the core. Where the channels run and how they do it without affecting the flesh around them is a mystery as old as humanity. The only reason we even know their vague form is due to powerful warriors demonstrating it to us.¡±

    The old man shook his head. ¡°Anyway, the soul is arguably the most important part of your being, for without it you would be but a drooling mess.¡± On his upturned palm, a ball of dark mist filled the rest of the figurine. ¡°It is the connection between your mind and body, the glue that binds the aethereal and corporeal into one big whole. When Germination is achieved, your channels become capable of affecting even the incorporeal.¡±

    The core erupted with a white light. It travelled down from the head into the torso, lighting up the bulkier channels along its way through the body. More and more sections turned white, until the network of channels were glowing brightly in the dark fog. Nothing seemed to happen after that, so John squinted his eyes and looked closer. It took a few seconds, but he finally noticed: The fog was gradually turning white, too, but at such an intolerably slow pace that it might as well not be doing so in the first place.

    Abruptly, the lightshow stopped, and the figurine returned to its previous, lifeless state. ¡°Once the channels breach the invisible barriers separating them from the soul the process of Germination has been completed. Not only will your ability to manipulate aether improve tremendously, you will also gain the ability to either see, hear, smell, taste or feel the aether around you, which is, I assure you, a most useful ability. You can vaguely assess your opponent¡¯s strength, see traps before they hit you and lose your dependence on things like light or sound. Aether is everywhere, after all, and you can¡¯t reasonably block it out unless you literally shower someone in it.¡±

    Greg sighed. ¡°But I¡¯m getting off-track here,¡± he said, studying John with his eyes as if he were a rare animal. ¡°Like I said, your problem shouldn¡¯t be occurring at all. Unless¡­¡± The old man hummed to himself, putting a hand to his chin. ¡°Unless there is something that prevents your channels from connecting to the soul. A barrier beyond the natural ones, preventing a process that should be normal, perhaps.¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°Too much speculation and not enough information. I¡¯ll try to contact some of my more medically versed friends. Maybe they can help you.¡±

    John grimaced. ¡°And what am I supposed to do until that happens?¡±

    Greg¡¯s face lit up in a smile. His trademark one. ¡°Well, Germination requires a relatively large amount of aether and control, which makes it that much easier to interrupt. This means that someone whose mana senses are acute enough could monitor you to prevent that from happening. As it so happens, there are two people in charge of you who fulfil those conditions.¡±

    Every alarm bell and instinct inside John¡¯s mind began ringing and screaming. ¡°B-but just because it happened once doesn¡¯t mean it would happen again, right? You already said that my early Germination was a freak accident, right? So maybe it won¡¯t happen again if I¡¯m just really careful?¡±

    The smile he got in response told him more than words ever could.

    <hr>

    Two days later, John was crouching between tall weeds and other grasses, staring into an empty clearing where a battle had taken place not too long ago. Uprooted weeds, spots of blood on the grass and bushes as well as a thousand other tells could probably have told someone more experienced than him what had happened here not too long ago.

    But it didn¡¯t really matter to him, and neither did it to his classmates scattered in a loose semicircle around him. After days of waiting and attending briefings and hours of rudimentary group training that went wrong more often than not, they were now here, on their first hunt. Their target was a wolf which had been separated from its pack after a confrontation with their upperclassmen.

    It was being herded towards them by Franziska, with Teacher looming somewhere in the shadows, where he was hopefully ready to intervene should anything go wrong. And oh boy were there many things that could go so, so wrong.

    Aside from the horrifying fact that they were letting small children fight against a rabid, aether-strengthened animal, outnumbered as it might be, their prepared tactics were laughable.

    ¡°Throw your javelins at it when it appears. If it doesn¡¯t die from that, let the poor idiots who chose a spear or halberd form the first row of encirclement and the other lucky souls the second line. What an absolutely brilliant plan! What could possibly go wrong?¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    Regardless of John¡¯s grumbling, he gripped the javelin fitting perfectly into his hand ¨C courtesy of their teacher, who provided both ammunition and provisory armour for those who hadn¡¯t made their own yet ¨C tighter and regulated his breathing.

    He felt someone tap his armoured shoulder, quickly moving through the grass to repeat the action to the others. It meant that the wolf was close now. Almost in hearing range, which was surprisingly close in the dense foliage and other background noises like the raging battles in the distance. He stared pumping as much aether as his channels could handle into his body.

    His senses sharpened, and suddenly he heard it. Faint sounds of branches rustling and breaking. Frenzied panting as it rushed closer. His heart hammering blood and adrenaline through his body. The shifting of weeds as he and his classmates prepared to jump up at any moment.

    It came closer and closer, until it could break out at any-

    With a snap, the bushes parted and a brown wolf burst into the clearing. Faster than he thought possible, John stood up, drew his arm back and threw his javelin at the animal in one smooth motion. In a split-second, nineteen other blurs joined his own, sailing through the air at speeds even normal adults would be hard-pressed to compete with.

    One, two, three four and more bounced off its fur or landed on the ground. Only a few managed to penetrate its thick hide and lodge themselves in its flesh, and most of those were dislodged when the animal jerked and growled in pain. Its yellow eyes darted around and instantly took in the gathered group of children, most of them barely taller than itself and probably half its weight.

    ¡®Fuck!¡¯

    John¡¯s body reacted before his mind did, dropping the reserve javelin and drawing his halberd, holding it out in front of himself protectively whilst advancing with cautious steps. Somewhere in his peripheral vision, he could see six or seven others do the same. They advanced together, their other classmates trailing behind not too far behind.

    The wounded beast bared its teeth and snarled, inching backwards as it slowly retreated towards the bushes. Emboldened by its behaviour, John and the others quickly managed to form a rudimentary battle line and drove it back further by feinting and occasionally stabbing at it.

    However, its retreat stopped dead once it reached the bushes it came from. The wolf¡¯s ears twitched backwards, and its snarl grew wider. It laid lower, preparing to pounce at a moment¡¯s notice.

    For a moment, a stalemate was formed between the two sides. Neither party was willing to fully commit, knowing that advancing just one step further would mean the outbreak of a lethal conflict.

    But the moment quickly passed, and the children advanced as one, their weapons levelled at the cornered animal.

    The wolf leaped, and as luck would have it, it headed straight towards John.

    His heart skipped a beat, but it didn¡¯t matter. His halberd drew back and shot forth in the same motion he had practiced over and over again, until it became ingrained in his body. The spearhead unerringly punched into the wolf¡¯s shoulder after a moment of resistance, only stopping once it was three quarters in and hit something hard. The resulting collision nearly wrenched the shaft out of John¡¯s hands as his entire body resisted the wolf¡¯s momentum, but in the end he managed to stop it in its tracks.

    The wolf let out a yelp that quickly turned into a howl once the other weapons managed to close in on it, slicing and stabbing and crushing its body from all sides. One spear managed to stab it in its neck, whilst the blade of a halberd sliced deeply into its back. Another club broke a paw, and soon John could no longer make out individual weapons as they interweaved into a bloody mess, the sound of metal hitting wood or other metal becoming more frequent than the dull thuds of metal biting into flesh.

    John pulled his halberd out, his hands jerking with the dying wolf it was lodged inside, and stabbed it into it once again with a roar. And again. And again. Until it stopped jerking and howling, and his arms were too weak to strike anymore. The surge of blood spurting out of its innumerable wounds had been reduced to a trickle and the beast had become little more than a mutilated carcass.

    John panted, leaning onto his spear for support as the adrenaline ebbed away and his awareness of his surroundings returned.

    Killing something so up and close was vastly different from shooting at your enemies from a distance. It was far, far more visceral. The feedback he felt whenever he stabbed, hacked or sliced, informing him of the tissue he was slicing through. The despair in its eyes once it realised that it wasn¡¯t going to get out of the encirclement. The final whimpers that were cut short by a hammer crushing its skull like a watermelon. They burned themselves into his memories, clinging onto them like a hollow spectre hounding him from beyond the grave.

    The battlefields of the future were vastly different. No less terrifying, but in a different, more detached way. The droning of artillery, the buzzing of your own energy weapons and plasma rounds flying all over the place, too fast to be caught by the naked eye robbed one¡¯s sense of control. You never knew when a stray round would hit you, or where the artillery would hit next. So what if you were the strongest, fastest and fittest member of your squad? All it took to melt you into a pile of slag was a single round hitting you when your shields were down.

    A heavy hand settled on his shoulder, turning his focus to reality once more. He didn¡¯t need to look up to know whom it belonged to.

    ¡°Good job,¡± his teacher said. His voice was loud and penetrating to the core, filled with so much praise and confidence that it jolted many of his classmates out of the stupor that set in once the adrenaline ebbed away. ¡°You¡¯ve just killed your first beast. Be proud of it! You just helped rid humanity of another monster that could have killed innocent people! In the future, you will remember this day and look upon it fondly, for it is your first step towards real warriorhood!¡±

    Franziska, who had probably appeared sometime between the wolf¡¯s appearance and its bloody death, started clapping and cheering. The children, innocent and influenceable as they were, looked at each other. John met the eye of many a classmate, their weapons and parts of their clothes still bloody from the brief fight. ¡®How can such a small body contain so much blood?¡¯ he wondered as the first of his classmates starting hesitantly cheering, becoming louder and louder as the others joined in.

    Off to the side, Greg and Franziska were watching with smiles as the bloodied children celebrated their first kill. But the only thing John could feel as he stood there, surrounded by his laughing and crying and hugging classmates, was an exhaustion that pervaded more levels than he thought possible.

    This was his life now, he realized. One filled with death, for that was, in the end, what he was being trained for. What he was being raised for. What all of this would amount to, in a few years.

    John closed his eyes and sighed. Perhaps he was just getting senile. These kinds of things hadn¡¯t bothered him so much when he first enrolled, so why did they now, in a different world with a different body?

    Maybe it was just that. Fate, that cruel mistress, had driven him towards bloodshed once more. And worse yet, a small part of him actually wanted this. Because this time he wouldn¡¯t be just another cog in a huge war-machine whose greatest contribution had been the loan of a power that wasn¡¯t his in the first place, too hesitant to use the terrible powers it could wield.

    No, old age had eroded the youth of those times away, only leaving the bitter core of someone who realized he could have been more. He had his chance now, hadn¡¯t he? It should have been time to man up and face reality. To let the past go and embrace the future, for that was what a child¡¯s life was.

    But he wasn¡¯t a child anymore, not in spirit, at least. And it was in the nature of senile fools to cling to the things they knew. Even if those things were useless and outdated, fit only for sentimentally gazing upon them.

    The marble said something, but it was drowned out by Ronnie wrapping his arms around John and heaving him off the ground. ¡°We did it! We did it we did it we did it! Man, how you stopped that beast with a single thrust¡­¡±

    The others crowded in too, praising each other and themselves while chattering away. Logan and Jessica were, once again, bickering. Probably about who had managed to inflict the most damage on their poor enemy.

    The familiar sight brought a smile to John¡¯s face. The marble was right. He really was letting the children have all the fun, choosing to sink into his gloom instead.

    His mind suddenly clearing like the sky above him, John cheered with his classmates, laughing and celebrating like only a child could.

 Chapter 20

    The day would turn out to be quite a long one, despite the initial celebration. They went on to hunt another three wolves, each encounter just as carefully watched over as the first.

    By the time the sun was sinking beyond the mountains, there were four mutilated wolf carcasses lying on the wooden sled they had produced to make carrying the heavy bodies easier. Of course, Greg could probably have made a better one in a heartbeat, but the old man wasn¡¯t one to give them help that they ¡°didn¡¯t need¡±.

    They took turns carrying the load in teams of four, switching out every thirty minutes to prevent fatigue. John was in the third shift, along with Lydia, Andrea and Ronnie.

    ¡°There must be an easier way to do this,¡± Ronnie groaned as they took a step uphill in tandem. ¡°I mean, human ingenuity is ¨C limitless. Maybe,¡± he stopped talking and gasped. ¡°Maybe we can, I dunno, add a floating function to it?¡±

    ¡°Dream on!¡± Lydia replied whilst John was busy muttering profanities. ¡°As if we could afFORD¡± her words turned a pitch higher as the trampled earth beneath her gave in and she slipped.

    Their advance ground to a halt in an instant as the remaining three strained to stay standing under the weight of both Lydia and their cargo. John stopped and stared at his downed comrade, his face reddening under both his exasperation and physical strain.

    ¡°Lydia!¡± he hissed.

    ¡°Yelling at me won¡¯t make me go faster you butthead!¡± she shouted back whilst wiping the dirt on her hands off on her armour.

    ¡°You can wipe that shit off later!¡±

    Lydia¡¯s face contorted into a disgusted grimace as she wiped the last remnants of clumped soil off. ¡°Eww, don¡¯t say that. What if there¡¯s actual poo on it?¡± She stopped and stared at her hands.

    Ronnie sighed, whilst Andrea looked supremely at ease with the rope in her hands. ¡°Could we move forwards now? Please? The others are waiting for us,¡± he said.

    All around them, their classmates had come to a stop, too. They stared in the innocent yet blatant way only children could pull off without seeming rude. Greg and Franziska had also stopped and stared in the same manner.

    Ignoring the crowd, John did a double take when he realized how remarkably relaxed the other two looked. How come it seemed like they didn¡¯t feel any sort of strain?

    ¡°Aether, you buffoon. Your body isn¡¯t quite what it used to be, what with¡­¡±

    Toning out the rest of the voice like he had once again become used to doing, John increased the trickle coming from his core until the strain felt negligible. It never ceased to amaze him just how much of a difference a simple application of aether could make.

    He checked his aether generation, grimacing when he noticed that it had come to a standstill. ¡®Yeah, hard physical labour is still the way to go.¡¯

    Lydia, whose cheeks had turned red at some point John must have missed, quickly finished wiping off grime caking her hands and they resumed their arduous journey.

    The return trip seemed to stretch on forever, and what felt like days later the last vestiges of light vanished beyond tall treetops. Greg and Franziska took out torches and lighted them when it became too dark to see the path they walked on, handing one to every second person.

    The torches could only illuminate so much, however, leaving much beyond a small range completely dark. The fire danced with the winds, shifting left and right with every step taken whilst shadows moved to and fro, hiding things that stayed just out of their vision.

    The children closed their ranks and formed a perimeter around the sled, watching the forest for beasts despite the rational impossibility of that happening under the watch of their elderly teacher. It was at this point, with a torch in one hand and his halberd in the other, that John realized just how dark a place could get.

    Be it on New Pandora or even on the star ships he served on, it never became truly dark. There was always a light around, somewhere in the vicinity, banishing the shadows with bright and efficient rays.

    In this forest, however, everything beyond a few dozen metres might as well not have existed. He knew there had to be something there, sure, but his eyes saw nothing but a gaping darkness, so deep it felt like he was staring into a bottomless abyss.

    John sighed, then shook his head. He was far too old to fear something like the dark. It was probably just his tired mind playing tricks on him.

    The wind picked up, rustling leaves and creaking branches.

    ¡°Behind you!¡±

    From the corner of his eyes, John saw Greg pulling out a spear that glinted silver under the pale moonlight and shooting it at him. His heart leapt in his chest, and time slowed to a crawl. He wanted to react, to dodge, to do something, but found his body too slow for his racing mind. Helpless, he could only watch as a silver blur raced past him, barely missing his head by a few centimetres before embedding itself into something behind him.

    John stumbled forward, almost tripping on his own feet as he fought to keep his footing and composure.

    A terrible shriek banished whatever words had been stuck in his throat, and he whipped his head around to see a dark silhouette burst through a bush behind him. John tossed the torch aside and gripped his halberd with both hands, stabbing at it to hit his foe before it could get to him.

    He needn¡¯t have bothered. Another blur shot past him and turned the silhouette into pink mush. It splattered onto the nearby vegetation with a disgusting squelch.

    Now truly dumbfounded, John froze. He blinked once, twice and then thrice in rapid succession before lowering his weapon. ¡°What the fuck?¡±, he said to no one in particular.

    A hand settled upon his shoulder. He looked up and saw Franziska, who was doing a bad job at faking a reassuring smile ¡°Sorry for that. I¡­ was just testing to see how you would react.¡± She scratched her helmet and looked at the forest around them. His heart racing, John followed her eyes, but realised that he had let his torch fall when he saw even less than what he had gotten used to. He picked it up and his vision improved just the tiniest bit ¨C the surroundings were already as bright as they could get due to numerous torches nearby ¨C but it was far from enough to see clearly.

    He breathed deeply. In, and out. Franziska wasn¡¯t saying anything. He looked up, seeing her focused expression as she scanned the forest with aether senses.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry John,¡± Greg said from the other side. John didn¡¯t even start at the sudden appearances of the old man anymore. He simply turned his head around to stare at the old man ¡°You weren¡¯t in real danger for a single moment back there. I was just testing my new assistant.¡± The grizzled teacher smiled down at him.

    Absently noting that his teacher¡¯s white hair was turning orange under the torchlight, John wondered whether these teachers really believed their acting could fool even the kids they were. It may have been to make him feel safer, but what if some of the children lost their respect for them?

    He glanced at the splattered remains of his mysterious attacker. It was easy to forget that the teachers in this world tended to wield powers commanded far more respect than a simple degree from college.

    ¡°How safe are we then?¡± he asked before wrinkling his nose. The smell of guts, blood and hints of things he didn¡¯t want to think about was starting to spread already.

    ¡°Very. Trust your teacher, lad. It is my duty to keep you safe whilst you are still young and vulnerable.¡± He then mumbled something under his breath that John didn¡¯t quite catch, but he figured it wasn¡¯t directed at him anyways. It was probably just swearing at the youth these days. He could certainly understand where he was coming from.

    A dark marble levitated out of a pile of pink goop and landed in Franziska¡¯s palm. She washed it off with a splash of conjured water and inspected it for a moment. Finding nothing wrong with it, she turned around and gently pressed the warm object into John¡¯s hand. ¡°See this as my apology for scaring you like that,¡± she said, quickly passing him and motioning for the procession to continue their march. Her footsteps then slowed, and she then fell back until they were shoulder to shoulder once again. ¡°You can use it by popping it into your mouth. Don¡¯t forget to wash it before consumption,¡± she added before once again walking to the head of the formation.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Rolling his eyes, John glanced at the dark orb before tucking it into a pocket. Inspecting his spoils of war could wait until it was safe enough to do so. He scanned the shifting shadows once more, failing to discover anything but plays of light. Why had the marble not notified him when the beast had snuck up on them? If their lives really were linked, then it would be in its best interests to keep both of them as hale and healthy as possible.

    He waited for a response, but none came. ¡°What? Too embarrassed to answer?¡±

    A disembodied sigh rang through his mind. ¡°I didn¡¯t manage to spot the bloody thing myself, okay? I think not even your teacher did, hence the hasty reaction once it jumped out of the bush.¡± It paused, perhaps to gather its thoughts. ¡°Listen, this is not normal. Something is going on here, and it¡¯s driving me nuts.¡±

    ¡°Okay¡­¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t let your guard down. I think we aren¡¯t quite as welcome here as I thought we were.¡±

    ¡°Wait! Didn¡¯t you tell me that there wasn¡¯t some cosmic force chasing you around?¡±

    Another period of silence.¡°There wasn¡¯t back then. I think whoever¡¯s interfering isn¡¯t sure of our identity yet, otherwise some extraordinarily stealthy animals would be the least of our problems. It would be best to lay low for now.¡±

    ¡°And how am I supposed to do that? It¡¯s not like I was going out of my way to show my otherworldly knowledge off until now? Hell, I¡¯m a kid in an institution that trains orphans! I can¡¯t get much more lowkey than this!¡±

    ¡°I know! Damnit, okay. How about this: I¡¯m going to focus on trying to make us as unassuming as possible to whatever is keeping an eye on us. Your aether generation is going to be halved, but I think it¡¯s a pretty good alternative to losing your life.¡±

    Gritting his teeth, John nodded. Halving his aether generation was no small matter. It would throw a wench in quite a few goals he had set himself, but goals could be pushed back, personal deadlines extended. So long as he lived, there was hope.

    He only dearly hoped that the marble wouldn¡¯t fuck up and kill them all.

    <hr>

    The campfire cracked and fizzed. John threw a branch in, watching it sizzle before catching fire. Half a metre above, the skinned and marinated carcass of a wolf slowly rotated as it was grilled. It was almost done, and the smell wafting out from it was making his stomach rumble. Totally worth the boring and monotone work of endlessly turning the wooden stake it hung upon.

    He licked his lips, doing his best to suppress the hunger that was starting to overwhelm his rationality. His last meal had been half a day ago ¨C far too long for a growing boy. Next to him, Jessica¡¯s stomach rumbled whilst she was whispering about something to Lydia. They giggled, probably about something inane as preteen girls were prone to doing. Ronnie and Logan were glaring at each other, and John was too busy ravenously staring at the delicious roasting meat to bother striking up a conversation.

    The entire plaza in the middle of their outpost was covered in similar campfires, with the children of the Golden Gate taking up half of it whilst the soldiers were roasting their own animals on the other half.

    The other two groups, who hadn¡¯t been impeded by numerous sneak attacks, had arrived long before them and were already in the process of setting up their fires by the time they dragged their exhausted bodies back to the walled outpost.

    Perhaps the only benefit of those attacks was the abundance of free meat they brought with them. It allowed them to have one and a half carcasses per camp, with the rest being confiscated by Greg and Franziska, who had formed their own campfire with the other four teachers.

    The six adults took turns patrolling through the encampment, with the other five staying behind to drink and joke around with the soldiers they were sitting close to.

    Arduous minutes passed until Greg walked by and gave them the okay to eat.

    As fast as his body could go without aether reinforcement, John grabbed the already prepared knife from the cloth next to him and began slicing a leg off. The meat was tough and sinewy, and he had to use all his strength and non-existent expertise in wolf anatomy to sever it.

    He took his meaty prize with both hands and brought it to his nose, fully taking in the intoxicating aroma of herbs and meat. Sweet, delicious meat.

    Unlike the other four John knew better than to rip into it straight away and waited a few agonizing moments until it had cooled to a comfortable temperature. After a few careful tests with his lower lip, he deemed it ripe for eating.

    He tore into it with grace and manners befitting an adult of his mental age.

    Objectively seen, it wasn¡¯t the tastiest piece of meat he¡¯d ever had. In his glory days, genetically modified and chemically treated meat that pushed the boundaries of the human palate had been part of his daily routine. This meat, on the other hand, was sinewy, stringy, tough and came with the faint aftertaste of blood.

    Bu perhaps it was the fact that his body had gone so long without meat, perhaps simply the inordinate hunger that had been gnawing at his insides for the past few hours, but at that moment-

    It tasted like a piece of heaven.

    The next half an hour turned into a meat-filled blur. By the time he finished off the last easily accessible strip of meat, John¡¯s belly was already bulging. He sighed with all the satisfaction a good meal could bring and leaned back on his chair. Angling his neck up, he looked at the square-shaped slice of the starry sky that wasn¡¯t blocked out by humongous stone walls.

    Though the moons weren¡¯t visible, the carpet of star twinkled and shined vividly all the more so. With a smile on his lips, he closed his eyes and just enjoyed the moment. A breeze would have been perfect, but that would have meant giving up the protection of the thick walls around him.

    Fortunately, no one was hurt today, aside from a kid or two that got scratched by falling on their faces. Nothing a quick application of salves and bandages couldn¡¯t fix.

    The short moment of peace was broken by Ronnie burping some marching song he had picked up at Camp Verdant. John opened his eyes only to roll them, which only intensified when Logan joined in. Not wanting to be outdone, Lydia and Jessica entered with simultaneous burps. The eyerolling turned into a sigh as they started competing over who could burp the loudest and clearest.

    Unsurprisingly, Ronnie came out as the winner, erupting with a belch that was loud enough to turn a few heads from the other groups. He stemmed his hands on his hips and laughed boisterously. ¡°That makes two hundred and forty-six to two hundred and forty for me! Take that Jessica!¡±

    The girl in question rolled her eyes and blew her bangs up with a sigh. ¡°I¡¯m still in the lead dumbass! Don¡¯t even dream of catching up!¡±

    Logan nudged John, leaning over conspiratorially as he watched them bicker. ¡°How long has this been going on?¡± he asked in a whisper.

    ¡°Ever since Camp Verdant,¡± John whispered back. ¡°They¡¯ve been at this ridiculous game for months now.¡±

    Logan visibly recoiled. ¡°What? This isn¡¯t ridiculous, it¡¯s brilliant! A sure-fire way to keep track of who¡¯s better. It¡¯s so good it could have come from me!¡±

    ¡°Hey! Hey guys!¡± Logan shouted. Upon getting their attention, he grinned and puffed his chest up. ¡°I¡¯ve got a brilliant idea. How about we all keep track of our victories and losses, in every game. Against everyone. That way we can determine who the absolute best among us is!¡±

    ¡°It won¡¯t work,¡± Lydia interjected. ¡°How are we supposed to keep track of every single game? What stops someone from simply lying about their victories?¡±

    ¡°Impossible! You can¡¯t lie when your honour is on the line or the Beast Kings are going to get you!¡± Logan shot back.

    ¡°The Beast Kings are a myth Logan. My da once told me that if they truly existed, nothing would stop them from tearing the entire world apart,¡± Jessica said.

    Logan snorted derisively. ¡°Your dad must have lied to you then. They exist! I¡¯m one thousand percent sure they do!¡±

    The little girl crossed her arms and leaned back. ¡°Yeah sure. I¡¯d rather believe the sky is green than the bullshit you¡¯re spouting day after day.¡±

    Logan¡¯s face ran beet-red as he pointed a finger at her, shouting, ¡°It¡¯s true! I¡¯m saying the truth!¡± He accentuated every word with a swing of his hand. ¡°I saw one with my own eyes you bitch! Why do you think I¡¯m stuck here with a ¨C a ¨C an idiotic tomatohead like you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d rather have my hair be the colour of tomatoes than piles birdshit!¡±

    The surprisingly intimidating silhouette of Franziska appeared out of seemingly nowhere just as the others were getting ready to intervene. Her presence commanded attention, and the gentle smile on her face somehow only served to cause John¡¯s hairs to stand on end.

    ¡°I think that¡¯s enough for today,¡± she said before taking the two arguing children by their hands. They stopped instantly. ¡°I¡¯ll be taking them to bed first. Don¡¯t let their quarrels ruin your mood and have fun tonight. Today¡¯s been your first successful hunt, after all,¡± the woman added as she escorted the two sullen children back to their barracks.

    John, Lydia and Ronnie watched her leave in silence. Only when they couldn¡¯t make her out anymore did John say, ¡°Do you believe they learn how to mysteriously appear wherever they¡¯re needed at teacher¡¯s school? It can¡¯t be a coincidence that each and every one of them does that.¡±

    Lydia giggled, to which Ronnie stared at her, aghast. ¡°It wasn¡¯t meant to be a joke,¡± he said.

    ¡°I know, but it¡¯s still funny.¡± She was still giggling to herself over something even John didn¡¯t find particularly funny whilst the two boys shared a bewildered look. When she finally stopped, Lydia wiped a tear off the corner of her eye and faced at them with an easy smile. ¡°You know, sometimes I wonder what the adults are up to when they¡¯re not with us. Training? Reading? Oh! Maybe they¡¯re¡­secretly meeting each other when they think the others won¡¯t notice!¡±

    A strange realisation struck John at that moment: Lydia was perhaps the most childish child he had met so far. It was a most disconcerting fact to realise.

    John strained his mind and tried to remember what little he knew of her. It was hard, because she was a small girl that he mostly only noticed because she was standing next to Jessica whenever she was causing trouble.

    What stood out the most about her was probably her long hair. It had the colour of fallen autumn leaves, and there had yet to be a day where it wasn¡¯t woven into a braid. Sometimes the designs were incredibly elaborate, no doubt requiring lots of time and effort to create and maintain.

    Logan and some other boys took great joy in messing that very hair up, which was a cause for many conflicts between him and the many girls Lydia was friends with.

    ¡°¡­ouch! Be more careful with it!¡± the girl in question shouted. By the time John had gathered his thoughts, she and Ronnie had moved to the front of the sizzling meat. They were talking about things just quietly enough that John couldn¡¯t hear them from his position. The boy was fiddling around with her hair, likely struggling if her occasional groans were any indication to his skill.

    John closed his eyes with a smile on his lips. The sound of roaring fires and cracking wood took over his mind, accentuated by the low din of conversation. He listened to Ronnie and Lydia giggle about something he couldn¡¯t be bothered to understand.

    The campfire gave off the perfect amount of heat, just enough to warm him, but not enough to burn if exposed to it for too long. Occasionally, smacks and pieces of conversations drifted over, just low enough that he had to strain his ears to understand them. There was also laughter in the air. Lots and lots of it. Deep, adult laughter coming from the soldiers as well as the higher notes of the children. They were all enjoying this brief reprieve after a day of hard work, knowing in the back of their minds that another hard day, week or perhaps even month or year was awaiting them.

    Nevertheless, it was a wonderfully peaceful night.

 Chapter 21

    Sometime later, after Franziska had sent them off to bed, John was sitting on the floor of his room. He looked up, reaffirming that Ronnie was still scribbling away at his diary. With that out of the way, the boy beheld his spoils of war.

    The three marbles ¨C Greg and Franziska stopped giving them to him once they realized that those stealthy beasts were almost exclusively targeting him ¨C laid heavy in his hand. They glowed with a dull tint in the moonlight, looking and feeling more like smooth stone than something that had been lodged in the brain of beasts not too long ago.

    Swallowing these things would increase the aether in his core, or at least they said so. It was a most macabre way of gaining power if you asked him, not that he would complain. They came at just the right time, too. With his aether generation having been halved, he desperately needed every source of aether he could possibly get his hands on.

    Picking the smallest core to examine it more closely, John licked his dry lips. The fact that it had been dug out from the head of a beast didn¡¯t particularly help his appetite.

    He closed his eyes and popped it into his mouth.

    It felt hard, smooth and tasteless as it rolled across his tongue. He didn¡¯t dwell on it and reflexively swallowed, gagging a little as it passed through his throat.

    Greg had said that keeping it in your mouth would also do the trick, but swallowing was the obviously faster and more efficient choice to ingest the stored remnants of aether. Curiously enough, dissolving it in his core was similarly dangerous to drawing in raw aether from the surroundings. Perhaps foreign aether was poisonous? But if so, why was he capable of dissolving coins just fine?

    The boy sighed. Unsolvable mystery by unsolvable mystery, John was starting to accept that he would have to put off researching aether until he had more time and resources on his hands. Preferably at a time when he would be taken more seriously.

    His musings were interrupted by the feeling ofwrongnessin the channels passing through the stomach.

    ¡®Wait, they¡¯re what? How do they even do that?¡¯John shook his head. This was no time to be distracted by foreign anatomy. Like a stomachache gone wrong, the feeling spread upwards, directly towards his head. Fortunately, it gradually lightened along the way. By the time it reached his core, it almost felt like his own aether.

    It swallowed the foreign aether like a black hole, leaving nothing behind even as bigger waves came from the stomach.

    ¡°Ugh¡­ ,¡± John groaned as the process unfolded. The process of aether pushing its way towards his head was nauseating to say the least. John closed his eyes and breathed, evenly and deeply, waiting for things to tide over.

    Mercifully, it quickly stopped. Hoping that the reward would be worth the ordeal he put himself through, John checked his aether reserves. He furrowed his brows at the frankly bafflingly small result.

    Greg had warned him that he would only be getting a minuscule part of the aether contained inside, but he hadn¡¯t expected that it would only replenish the equivalent of two days of cultivation.

    That was, frankly said, a ridiculous result for a task that involved killing beings that were far, far stronger than himself.

    It was so little, in fact, that John was starting to suspect that a large part of it had been misappropriated along the way.

    Having an inkling as to who was responsible for this phenomenon, John suppressed the sigh that was building up inside him.

    ¡®Was it you?¡¯

    ¡°Oh, yeah, yeah ¡®twas me,¡±the marble drawled. It sounded¡­intoxicated?

    ¡®What the hell? Do you get high off cores?¡¯

    ¡°Aah, no, not quite. But the aether is delicious. Very. Much.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    A moment of stunned silence passed before it spoke again.¡°Do me a favour and eat the rest, will you?¡±

    John thought for a moment. The marble had done him a favour by doubling his aether production, even if it was in their mutual best interest to do so. Plus, it wasn¡¯t like he could stop it from doing whatever it wanted anyway.

    Ten minutes and quite a bit of gagging later, John finally swallowed the last of the marbles. ¡®Wait, if it¡¯s already this hard to swallow them now, what about the dragon Greg has slain? Do cores scale with size? If not, does that mean that small animals are incapable of bearing cores?¡¯

    He ignored the satisfied moans of the marble and rubbed his eyes before yawning. Soft scratching sounds could still be heard from the other side of the room, their rhythmic sounds pulling him ever closer to slumberland.

    Yawning once more, John shelved the questions and crawled into his bed.

    ¡°G¡¯night,¡± he mumbled just barely loud enough for Ronnie to hear.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    The scratching stopped. ¡°Nightie night,¡± Ronnie said before he resumed writing.

    John closed his eyes. He felt like falling and spinning and plunged into the land of dreams.

    <hr>

    The next day, Greg made them gather on the plaza. The old man seemed to be even more serious than usual, his stern glare shutting the bubbling conversations down. For some reason, he had also insisted on them bringing the suits of armour he had provided them before.

    The two layers of armour ¨C a thick padded jacket and trousers as well as chainmail that went from their heads to the middle of their thighs ¨C were arranged on the dusty ground before them. They were surprisingly heavy and silent, the interlocking chains producing almost no noise. Coming from a civilization that had long since left such things behind, John had no idea whether that was normal or just a special property they had been crafted with

    To be honest, he heavily suspected the latter, but he couldn¡¯t exactly replicate them to test it. The chains were too small and fine to reliably create, and the other chainmails were just as eerily silent as his own.

    The soldiers didn¡¯t have time for him either in a trying time like this. They were too busy resting, marching or organising to pay the questions of a small child much heed.

    Greg clapped, dragging John¡¯s attention back to reality. ¡°I have noticed that quite a few of you have begun creating your own armours,¡± he started. ¡°That¡¯s a good thing.¡± A few tense shoulders relaxed at those words. ¡°Your safety and that of your comrades should always be your second-highest concern, right after accomplishing your objectives in battle. Today, we will be learning how to createfunctionalarmour that will serve to protect you from beast and man alike. Whoever has already started on their armour should bring them out now. Place them next to the ones I have provided for you.¡±

    An unsurprising majority brought their works out, putting them on the ground with a variety of sounds. The old man eyed the wide array of metallic, stony and sometimes mixed plates critically before sighing. ¡°I suspected as much, but we have quite a lot of work to do. Put those away for now, we will get to them later.¡±

    John felt a strange sense of schadenfreude welling up before squashing it. He shouldn¡¯t be laughing at children trying to protect themselves, no matter how laughable their efforts might turn out to be. That¡¯s what they were here for, after all. To learn, and hopefully grow from it.

    Whilst John was thinking, Greg had conjured a set of plate armour. ¡°This is what you should aspire for.¡± He presented the gleaming plate armour to them with a passionate brandish. ¡°Sleek curves and flowing lines that deflect incoming arrows and blows. A polished sheen that can blind your foes if necessary.¡± His fingers followed the neatly overlapping plates, all rounded to a certain extend. It didn¡¯t exactly look exciting or cool ¨C the two door guards at the Golden Gate had much more impressive armour ¨C but it definitely looked functional.

    ¡°But the exterior is not actually the most important thing. What makes every Warrior¡¯s armour special, and the reason it has taken so long for us to have this lesson, is the fact that any warrior worth his title gives his armour special properties. Let me show you.¡±

    The old man casually plunged his bare hand into the armour. His weathered fingers punched a hole into the plates, then pried them open with contemptuous ease. It was a surreal sight, most of all to John, who may have intellectually known the warriors of this world to be inhumanly strong but hadn¡¯t quite internalized this fact yet.

    The children oohed and aahed as Greg methodically tore the armour apart. Metal shavings and splinters broke off with every move, and by the time he was finished, they had accumulated into a small pile. Finished, Greg nodded at his work and smiled at the children. He pointed at the bunched-up scraps that were left of the once pristine armour. ¡°As you can see, I tore this armour apart. Nothing but useless junk is left now, right? Now watch-¡°

    As soon as he finished his sentence, the metal scraps began wriggling. Barely discernible at the beginning, but the motions quickly intensified until they were all vibrating. Then, they started to unfold themselves. The metal unfurled, then straightened and smoothened out. The bouncing and vibrating parts started approaching the biggest remaining piece, adding themselves in the right order and quickly reassembled in a rough replica of the original.

    Not one to miss out on such a spectacle, John had naturally activated his aether sight to observe the process and perhaps learn a trick or two. He winced as only blinding light greeted his eyeballs and turned it off again.

    By the time his vision cleared up, the armour was good as new.

    ¡°This is one of many functions you can embed in the items you create in your core. It draws upon the ambient aether in your core to repair itself. For those of you who don¡¯t know yet: We call such effects that draw on your core to work enchantments. In this case, it is a self-repairment enchantment. Your task now will be to create your own armour and incorporate this at the same time. To do this, you need to concentrate on the effect, imagine it into reality, and let your aether do the rest. It will take its toll on your reserves, so be careful not to make it too powerful.¡±

    He put the practice armour forward again. ¡°This will be the guide for those of you who haven¡¯t created their own armours yet. It will come on top of the one I already provided you. Ah, and don¡¯t forget to enchant the rest, too, alright? Do any of you have questions?¡± He waited a moment in order for all this new information to sink in.

    A few hands shot into the air. ¡°Yes, Jessica?¡±

    ¡°Do our armours absolutely have to be made out of metal? Stone is much harder, so wouldn¡¯t it be a better material?¡±

    Most of the hands retracted after she formulated her question.

    Greg put a hand to his chin. ¡°First of all, not all stones are equal. Some stones may be harder than most metals, but they are, in turn, more brittle and hardly suitable for armours. An armour that has pieces breaking off of it after every strike is anything but safe. Metals may lose to stones in hardness at times, but they more than make up for it in elasticity.¡± The old man¡¯s eyes glazed over for a moment. ¡°In the future, you can fashion your armour however you want it to. However, as long as you are under my tutelage, your armour will be made of metal. Understood?¡±

    The children nodded collectively. He spent some more time answering questions before stepping back and letting the children surge forward, keen on studying the armour and all its details. John was no different. Although he knew that modern armour from his former life was far, far more effective, he unfortunately had even less of an idea how those were supposed to work and what materials they were composed of.

    Even more unfortunately, the marble knew just about as much about it as him. They had had a long and extensive conversation about things they could import from their former lives in which they were forced to realise that A: They really didn¡¯t know enough to really replicate most modern conveniences and toys and B: Even if they did more or less know how something worked, they either lacked the aether to turn it into reality or lacked the required precision.

    As such, stuck as he was in his childish body and this faux-ancient time, he had no choice but to prepare himself for another long and exhausting session of creating, dissolving and perfecting his very own armour.

    It was going to be a long day.

 Chapter 22

    In the end, they spent most of the day perfecting their armours. In his relentless pursuit of perfectionism, Greg insisted on the armours being perfect to the smallest curves and obscure. Though it was most annoying, everyone could understand where the old man came from.

    He made sure of that by demonstrating any weaknesses he found, which usually involved the armour cracking and breaking, or simply bending beyond recognition. The screeching sounds that caused were certainly not easy on anyone¡¯s ears.

    Fortunately, John fared relatively well due to his extensive experience with forming more delicate pieces of metal. He was still far, far away from the level of skill required for guns, of course, but he thought he was getting closer. Definitely¡­ somewhat. Perhaps only a teensy tiny bit.

    Despite his abysmal progress in churning out guns like a factory of mass destruction, the difference in skill meant that he was finished around noon. Finding nothing to do whilst he waited for his classmates, he asked Franziska to keep an eye on him and cultivated.

    Like every time since Greg had made his ominous warning, he was jittery at first, but he soon sunk into the pure focus that was maximising his gains from the tedious task. There were a few close calls where he almost let himself get swept away, but fortunately Franziska was there to break him out of it.

    Hours flew by like that. Lunch was eaten, and dinner was approaching by the time the last child finished. Ronnie, who happened to be that last child, visibly sagged in relief once Greg passed him with only a tiny bit of exasperation. The fact that the other children had to keep waiting for him made him the focus of their hangry gazes, and the boy was glad to be finally rid of that.

    After giving their creations another inspection, the old man drew their attention to himself with a clap. ¡°Good. Whilst this might be slightly later than planned, I am sure that we can squeeze one more hunt in before-¡° Greg¡¯s head blurred to the side without any warning, silencing any questions with a raised finger.

    The ensuing silence caused John to notice that the entire base had gone silent. No footsteps, voices or other indications of life could be heard. The children exchanged uneasy glances.

    This was the first time such a thing had happened. Not even when Camp Verdant was attacked did the atmosphere seem so oppressive. Franziska, too, had become as rigid as a statue that glared at them when they made noise. The fact that these two authority figures had suddenly flipped their attitudes didn¡¯t help the ominous sense of foreboding that settled over the entire outpost.

    John thought of the one thing that could explain the current situation to him.

    ¡®What the hell is going on,¡¯ he questioned the marble.

    It didn¡¯t respond, causing him to repeat his question multiple times.

    ¡®Oh come on, don¡¯t tell me you are angry at being ignored?¡¯

    ¡°¡­¡±

    ¡®It¡¯s not like this is the first time I¡¯ve been ignoring you for longer periods of time.¡¯

    ¡°¡­¡±

    ¡®Please, this is not the time for this?¡¯

    The marble stayed silent. John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He knew what he had to do. ¡®Look, I¡­¡¯ He breathed in deeply, more out of habit than any real need to. Apologising to it was never easy, even if the words never had to actually leave his lips. ¡®I ¨C I¡¯m sorry, okay? I¡¯ll do my best to talk to you more, partner. We¡¯re in this together, after all.¡¯

    He felt a presence in the back of his mind stir. ¡°It¡¯s faint, but I think a massive aether signature has just entered the rough vicinity of our region. It seems stronger than the ¡®dragon¡¯ your teacher has slain.¡±

    ¡®That doesn¡¯t sound good? Why didn¡¯t you tell me earlier?¡¯

    ¡°Honestly? If I warned you every time a significant aether signature passed by you wouldn¡¯t be able to sleep at night. Out here in the wild, you humans are a long way from becoming the dominant species.¡±

    ¡®This doesn¡¯t seem to be a normal creature passing, though.¡¯

    ¡°Indeed, from what I gather it¡¯s slowly but surely approaching your position. There¡¯s a¡­nonzero chance it might be here for us. Stick to your teacher as much as possible and don¡¯t take unnecessary risks, John.¡±This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    ¡®You talk like we ever leave the supervision of our caretakers for more than a few minutes?¡¯

    There was a low chuckle in his mind. ¡°You¡¯re right. Still, you know what I mean.¡±

    John felt a warm and coarse hand worm inside his own and instinctively tried to shake it off. Very much unused to physical contact that didn¡¯t involve violence, John looked up.

    Right into a pair of sky-blue eyes. ¡°What the hell are you doing,¡± John whispered.

    Ronnie shook his head and lifted an intertwined hand ¨C not his, it held Lydia¡¯s ¨C pointing towards the rest of their class. They had huddled together, taking each other¡¯s hand. It dawned on John that if even he was frightened, how was a group of children who were essentially defenceless against anything more powerful than a starved wolf going to react?

    A second hand clasped his before John could do much else than blink. This time, it belonged to Logan, whose complexion resembled paper. Feeling almost alien to himself from the concern he felt for the normally annoying boy, John smiled and squeezed the other boy¡¯s hand reassuringly.

    Logan didn¡¯t smile back, but at least he didn¡¯t burst into tears or anything similar. In fact, the entirety of John¡¯s class remained stoic. There were no tears, only fear in their eyes and a resolve to live that betrayed the fact that none of them had become orphans peacefully.

    The old man inside John found that remarkable indeed, considering that they were but children. Young ones, at that. He felt a tug on both his arms as the circle they had formed tightened.

    John briefly wondered why they didn¡¯t simply group-hug instead of forming some awkward circle, but dismissed the thought as soon as it came. It was probably due to a different culture, and perhaps some social customs he wasn¡¯t quite aware of.

    The group stayed in that position for a while, so John turned his attention inwards again.

    ¡®Seriously though, could it be that this beast is after us? In fact, hasn¡¯t it become much worse? I don¡¯t recall ever being assaulted by invisible animals until recently.¡¯

    ¡°I think they¡¯re catching a whiff of our trail, though I doubt that the fat bastard passing is after us. This much is pretty much an automatic reaction to our intrusion. We won¡¯t be anything but minor pests for a long time, so our current situation will most likely not turn any worse. Be glad it is just invisible animals and not the ground under our feet ripping itself apart to assault us.¡±

    ¡®Wait, that¡¯s actually possible?¡¯

    ¡°You better believe it is. That would be a rather extreme case, though, and if everything goes according to plan it won¡¯t come to that.¡±

    ¡®And what¡¯s that plan,¡¯ John thought as he shot another reassuring smile at the children around him. Some smiled back, but those were weak smiles at best. He could feel them becoming more restless as time passed.

    ¡°Live as long as possible, then die a graceful death without being discovered. We don¡¯t really have the lifespan for anything else,¡± the marble replied. It sounded quite resigned.

    John noted that information, as well as the uncommon forthrightness of the marble, and turned his focus back to the situation at hand. Whatever had been shrouding the base in a blanket of silence had vanished, and he could see more and more soldiers, warriors and civilians pour out from seemingly every hole and crevice. The sounds of metallic boots and chatter filled the air as the outpost became increasingly crowded.

    Greg clapped again, drawing the scatter-brained attention of his charges. John¡¯s blood ran cold when he realised that the old man had become significantly paler. ¡°There has been a change of plans. You will continue staying in the outpost under the lead of Franziska. I¡­will be needed elsewhere.¡±

    The old man sighed, then puffed his chest out in one smooth motion. He stared at the frightened children in front of him with determination in his eyes. His mouth cracked open, perhaps to give them assurances. ¡°Stay safe, my children,¡± was the only thing he said in the end. Soon after that, he nodded towards Franziska and marched in the direction of the gate.

    The entire thing happened so quickly that John didn¡¯t quite know how to react. Fortunately, the moment of confusion was dispelled as soon as Franziska stepped forward and inspected their formation with a critical eye. She shook her head with a smile.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry children,¡± the robust middle-aged woman said as she kneeled to look them in the eye. ¡°We¡¯ve got it all under control. It¡¯s just that the beasts outside have unexpectedly become rowdy. By tomorrow, everything should become normal again.¡±

    ¡°Franziska,¡± Jessica said. She had, like most other children, become quite pale in the last few minutes. There was no sign of her usual energy, only a vague sense of dread. ¡°I don¡¯t have a good feeling about this.¡±

    Franziska¡¯s smile turned motherly. She spread her arms and gently broke their formation, inviting them for a hug. The children, perhaps unsure how to react to such sudden emotion on her side, stood stock-still.

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t you worry,¡± she said cooed. The stout woman scooped Jessica and the few girls around her into an embrace, whispering, ¡°Everything¡¯s going to be alright. Your teacher is gone to scout out the situation, it¡¯s nothing too serious. We¡¯re going to deal with this, you¡¯ll see.¡±

    The girls in her embrace melted into the older woman, who beckoned for the rest of them to join her.

    They didn¡¯t need another cue to form a group-hug. The children gathered around Franziska, forming a pile of warm bodies with her at the centre. Though John certainly didn¡¯t want to join, he was still swept up by the irresistible force of desperate children. In the end, he was stuck somewhere in the middle, surrounded by his surprisingly comfortable classmates.

    There was no pushing in their pile, only hands upon hands that hugged them. John let his mind go as he listened to Franziska¡¯s empty platitudes. He put his worries to the side for a moment and simply relaxed. Hugs, even tight and wet ones from tears and snot, were an enjoyable affair, after all.

    The boy sighed in contentment. Soon, he would have to face the world and its problems again.

    But for this moment, even if it was just a few minutes, he could let go and almost believe the reassurances that everything was going to be alright.

 Chapter 23

    They didn¡¯t go out hunting for the rest of that day. Neither did they for the rest of the week, instead spending it inside, training. Despite having always been the softer of their two teachers, Franziska pushed John and the rest of his classmates hard.

    They worked on fighting in armour and getting used to their new armaments. What Franziska put a special focus on was getting them used to letting blows slide off their armour.

    It resulted in quite a few bruises ¨C and bruised egos as armours were damaged left and right ¨C but at least it took their minds off the fact that the entire outpost had become as busy as a beehive.

    ¡°That¡¯s the fifth one today,¡± Ronnie remarked as he watched another stretcher hurry into the overfilled medical barracks.

    ¡°Stop counting them. The only thing you accomplish by doing that is to worry yourself. And me,¡± John said. The boy took a huge gulp from his water flask and stood up, his armour clanking noisily as he did so. ¡°Gah, I¡¯m still not used to this noise.¡± He sighed at Ronnie, who continued to stare at the medical barracks. ¡°C¡¯mon, break time is almost over. We need to get going.¡± He looked over his shoulder, where Franziska standing with her arms crossed. She didn¡¯t let the children out of her eyes for a single moment.

    Ronnie tore his eyes away before muttering something about this not being right. Using his sword as a crutch, he heaved himself to his feet. ¡°You ready,¡± he asked whilst taking a pose.

    John''s vision narrowed considerably as he materialised his helmet. He didn''t like the feeling, but it would, fortunately, go away once he overcame whatever was hindering him and awoke his aether senses.

    The boy took a deep breath, suppressing the sinking feeling in his gut with a moderate aether burst. It worked almost as well as the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He gripped his halberd tighter as he took a defensive pose. ¡°Do it.¡±

    Ronnie¡¯s sword blurred. It bypassed John¡¯s unmoving halberd and crashed into the other boy¡¯s breastplate, where it slid off without leaving a scratch. He grunted, took a step back and repeated the process of hammering John¡¯s armour with measured strikes.

    For his part, John stayed silent and unmoving. It didn¡¯t hurt, not really. Ronnie¡¯s strikes were far too light, and his own armour too well made for that, but it took every bit of willpower in John¡¯s body to suppress his instincts. His body screamed at him to move and riposte, swat the blade away or do something, anything to divert the weapon¡¯s edge from his body.

    His eyelids and fingers twitched with every strike, but eventually, his turn ended. He returned the favour to Ronnie.

    They spent the next hour like that, clobbering each other like idiots. By the end of it, they felt like ones, too.

    Jessica and Lydia joined them in the following break, taking place on a random spot on the ground next to them. Today, Lydia had opted for a simple French braid that somehow managed to look perfectly fine even though she had to have been moving in a helmet for hours.

    ¡°-ohn. John!¡±

    John blinked. ¡°What,¡± he replied with another blink.

    Jessica shook her head, her ponytail forming a scarlet stream behind her head. ¡°When do you think the old man¡¯s coming back?¡±

    John thought back to the last conversation he had had with the marble. ¡°He¡¯s hunting everything in your remote vicinity down. Damn, you should see this. It¡¯s like he¡¯s a lawnmower on steroids,¡± it had said.

    ¡°Who knows? He¡¯s probably busy killing everything that moves and doesn¡¯t talk,¡± John replied.

    The round shared a smile at the old joke.

    Jessica hugged her knees. ¡°I hope he comes back soon so we can get away from here. This place sucks.¡±

    Ronnie looked up from Lydia¡¯s loose hair, his fingers never stopping weaving through it to create an elaborate braid. When had he undone her braid? ¡°When do you think will those expeditions stop? I just want to get back and peacefully train. Not¡­this running around to-¡°

    ¡°Ouch!¡±

    ¡°Sorry,¡± Ronnie shouted back. He responded to Lydia¡¯s aggrieved pout with a pleading grimace. She forgave him with a sigh. ¡°So yeah, I really don¡¯t like all these expeditions.¡±

    John and Jessica nodded. Greg''s abrupt departure had robbed the children of any adventurousness they might have had.

    Hearing a shout, John looked at the other side of the plaza, where the other two groups were training. They, too, were training hard. A good side effect of that was that none of them had the energy to start a quarrel with each other.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    A flutter of black hair caught his eye. A familiar-looking girl was whaling at another classmate of hers.

    John wrinkled his eyebrows. She seemed¡­familiar. Why? Where had he seen her before?

    John thought about it, but couldn¡¯t recall a reason. He spent the rest of his break thinking about her but ultimately couldn¡¯t remember where he knew her from. He concluded that it was not important.

    <hr>

    ¡°Take care kid,¡± the burly, hairy and sweaty old soldier said to John. He reached his hand out to stroke the boy¡¯s head, but John dodged with a practiced sidestep. He danced further out of the man¡¯s reach and waved.

    ¡°Don¡¯t die you old coot,¡± John shouted as he walked away.

    The old soldier gave him a smile. His mouth was full of gleaming white teeth. ¡°You too,¡± he said, raising his hand to wave back.

    Similar scenes were playing out all over the fort as children, teachers and soldiers said their goodbyes. That done, they assembled into a formation in front of the massive gate. All three groups were standing next to each other in the formation. Once the teachers made sure no one was left behind, they surrounded their charges and set off.

    Greg was acting as the vanguard, his characteristic smile that the children hadn¡¯t seen for a long time on his face. The children chattered excitedly as they set out, though they quickly quieted down after Greg threw a glance back. All three groups did.

    ¡®Authority¡¯s still authority, I guess,¡¯ John thought as he snickered at the reactions of the other two groups. They looked thoroughly cowed.

    Then again, so were they. The old man had tended to have that effect on people.

    John frowned as he thought about the implications of the fact even Greg had felt it necessary to combine their forces. The marble, too, seemed quite cautious despite the decimation of the surrounding beasts.

    Though it hadn¡¯t gone so far as warn him, it nevertheless prevented him from being too carefree. Thinking about danger, John made a quick check of his core. It revealed a proud amount of aether ¨C the result of him saving up the last few days.

    The fact that ¨C provided he paced himself well ¨C he could aether burst for hours on end served to calm him down.

    Time blurred as the teachers forced a rapid march on them. There were no breaks, save for the times something was blocking their way. If that happened, a teacher would go forth to kill whatever was hindering their progress.

    The closer they got to the main road leading out of the thick forest, the fiercer the beasts seemed to fight back. Sometimes two, and sometimes even three of the six teachers had to set out at the same time. Yet, despite the constant breaks, the children never had to fight themselves. The teachers took turns taking their aggressors out, ensuring that no group ever remained without a familiar face to lead them.

    That didn¡¯t mean they couldn¡¯t find evidence of the beasts¡¯ manic resistance, though. Broken trees and shattered bodies littered the path they walked on. The smell of blood and viscera was thick in the air, and occasionally a child stumbled on lingering bone fragments.

    If you asked John, though, the worst thing was definitely the smell. The stench was becoming thicker with every step. It was to the point that John and many of his comrades felt forced to conjure rags to serve as mouth and nose protectors. It almost felt like he could taste the blood in the air in some spots.

    They ate lunch and dinner on their feet. Not one child could be seen complaining about that. How could they, when their teachers were rushing about whilst trying to protect them?

    John wondered just how many sets of clean clothes each teacher must have stored inside their cores. There was no way they could remain unscathed with all the destruction they were causing, yet he never saw even the smallest stain on them.

    He shook his head. ¡®No sense deceiving myself,¡¯ he thought. He was only trying to distract himself from the fact that the beasts were still this numerous after weeks of fighting. Just how many had been there before?

    ¡°They¡¯re congregating on us. We might not even be the reason for that this time. It¡¯s more like¡­they don¡¯t want their prey to get away?¡±

    John snorted. What kind of prey committed mass murder on its predator? He would never understand just what could compel these beasts to throw themselves at humans in a manner that could only be described as suicidal. It didn¡¯t make sense, from both a logical and an evolutionary standpoint!

    And where were all these animals even coming from? Though the forest was indeed massive, there was no way it could sustain the numbers it was currently inhabiting. Not to mention that even herbivores seemed to transform into predators whenever they saw them.

    ¡°Stop thinking about unimportant problems. You¡¯d be better served concentrating on getting out of here alive. You know, what with the invisible assassins running around and all,¡± the marble reminded John.

    John breathed deeply. The marble was right. He needed to remain vigilant at all times. It was a pity that his armour didn¡¯t make him feel any safer. He doubted that a sheet of metal would do anything to help his chances against something that managed to pierce through the teachers¡¯ protection.

    A surprisingly close roar shook John out of his thoughts. It died down in a split-second, but that did not hinder the children from whispering amongst themselves. Being situated in the middle, it took a while for the news to reach him. It seemed like Greg had thrown something into a bush that then exploded into a gory mess.

    ¡°Speak of the devil.¡±

    ¡°Jinx,¡± John cursed under his breath. The exit of the forest was still quite a way away, and yet those things had already appeared? That was not a good sign. ¡°Are there any other unpleasant surprises waiting for us? Like, is something capable of instantly annihilating us in the vicinity?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about those. You lot might as well be passing air for the beings capable of that.¡±

    John¡¯s heart skipped a beat as he realised that the marble¡¯s reply was not a direct denial. He took deep breaths and forced himself to keep track of his surroundings, lest he trip and fall. No good would come out of pursuing this conversation any further.

    He cursed himself for being too nosy. What little safety he felt had instantly vanished at those words.

    ¡°I¡¯m loving this more with every second,¡± John said with a sigh.

 Chapter 24

    They continued walking through blood-soaked fields for hours. There was blood on their shoes, blood on their hands and blood on their feet. They smelled like death and if one¡¯s nose could endure the smell long enough, liquid exhaustion.

    Their invisible assailants continued pestering them from all angles. Though they rarely appeared and were quickly disposed of, every time they did would be followed by a period of paranoia. Especially the one time they dug out from the ground left many of them wary for hours, sapping their energies further.

    Fortunately, the children only had to march. Put one foot in front of the other. Stare straight ahead. Ignore the beasts appearing out of nowhere.

    There was nothing to break up the monotony. No fights. Perhaps a few words exchanged here and there, but the mood quickly killed any conversations off before they could properly start.

    An almost tangible feeling of powerlessness pervaded the air. John may have had a suit of armour covering his body and a halberd in his hands, but a glimpse at the bloody ground instantly reminded him of his place in this battle.

    He and everyone else in his group was forced to rely on their teachers to not let anything too powerful slip through, lest they all be turned into some beast¡¯s lunch.

    Perhaps wishing to preserve fairness in case a battle arose, the teachers made John and the others regularly switch places with those standing at the edge of the formation. They also made the stronger and bigger children stand guard at the edge more often, which John didn¡¯t quite know what to think about.

    On the one hand, they were the most equipped to deal with beasts should they appear. On the other hand, the strength difference between most of them was so negligible that it hardly made a difference in the face of any beast mightier than a wolf.

    He wondered, for the first time in quite a while now that he thought about it, what his old friend would have done in his teachers¡¯ stead.

    ¡®Most likely the same,¡¯ he concluded. ¡°Only the most capable ones shall take the lead. Everyone else has fuck all to do at the peak of any organisation,¡± he blurted out, immediately snapping out of his reminiscence afterwards.

    What was he doing? No matter how bored and tired he was, this was no time to be immersed in memories!

    He looked around. Judging by the stony faces of the unfamiliar children around him, it seemed like no one had paid attention to-

    ¡°Really? Is this really the time for this?¡± a clear voice said from beside him. John turned his head and saw an unfamiliar child¡¯s plain brown eyes track him whilst they marched. It was someone from the other two groups, and not anybody he had paid attention to before.

    John did the adult thing and ignored the brat in favour of scanning his surroundings for threats. He was not going to get into a senseless argument when his life was at stake. Especially when the other party had a point.

    Though the unnamed child seemed annoyed by John¡¯s blatant disregard, they didn¡¯t blow up. The stakes were simply too high to risk any sort of internal turmoil.

    Just at that time, loud, animalistic panting and the sound of branches breaking reached the children¡¯s ears. The loose marching formation instantly fell into chaos as children pushed and shoved their way in- and outwards in a bid to assemble into a fighting formation.

    Though the marble had warned John, he knew he had no way to convince his comrades about the beasts¡¯ appearance unless he wished to come under quite some scrutiny. As such, he was merely at the outermost line of their formation at the time, having prepared himself for an assault long ago. He and most of the other polearm-wielders in his position stood their ground and pointed their weapons towards the incoming threat.

    The shieldbearers, of which he recognised almost none, pushed their way through the front and formed a rudimentary battle line. The ones with shorter weapons such as swords scrambled through the lines as they bolstered both ranks of the formation.

    They were barely ready by the time three bloody boars pushed through the treeline. The beasts, each bigger than any of the assembled children. wasted no time rushing towards their formation.

    John pumped as much aether as he could into his body. His breathing was controlled, focused. Their enemies were just boars ¨C nothing they hadn¡¯t slain before.

    His halberd was steady, the shaft going between two children¡¯s shoulders and pointing towards the closest approaching beast. In front of him, the shieldbearers were bracing for impact with all their might.

    John expected the beast to dodge, or perhaps slow down and simply avoid their assembly of spears once it got close. It didn¡¯t.

    Instead, the red and brown blur simply rammed into their polearms at full speed, eliciting a collective grunt as all seven of them were pushed back from the impact. In John¡¯s case, the shaft slipped through his grip and was only stopped by his breastplate.

    He was forced to take a step back even as he felt his speartip sinking into the beast¡¯s body. Three separate high-pitched screams filled the area they were in as the beasts¡¯ charges were stopped cold.

    John gasped and grunted as he readjusted his grip, now steadily pushing against the berserk beast. He felt his palms burning ¨C most likely a result from the shaft slipping through earlier ¨C but that wasn¡¯t nearly enough to stop him.

    His comrades didn¡¯t let this opportunity slip by and encircled the beast, which was still squealing and thrashing from having seven weapons stuck in its body.

    Those movements caused it to quickly rip free of John¡¯s halberd, which only worsened its wounds on its way out. Now free to attack again, the boy took a step forward and sunk his weapon into the beast once more, this time hitting its sides. His strike was deflected by its ribs but still managed to gouge another bloody wound into the beast.

    Meanwhile, Ronnie, Jessica and ten others tore into the trapped beast with opportunistic strikes, striking whenever it exposed its side to them. The polearm-wielders continued to keep it at bay, preventing the berserk beast from focusing on any one of them.

    The shieldbearers hindered the beast from advancing any further, stopping any charges before they could begin with their combined might and taking the brunt of the attention of the beast. They were a very welcome surprise to John and his group, who weren¡¯t used to so many shields blunting the opponent¡¯s attacks.

    Still, the beast was tenacious, even as wounded as it was. It almost gouged those within range of its tusks multiple times when it suddenly swung its head around. Fortunately, no one was significantly wounded by those attacks, with the worst wounds being bruises and cuts where the tusks had brushed past them.

    Albeit young and uncoordinated as a group, the children were all somewhat experienced hunters now. It slowed as more wounds were inflicted and its lifeblood continued dripping onto the ground. Then, Jessica managed to break one of its knees with a wild swing.

    The boar squealed even louder than before and collapsed for a second, the pain having been inflicted this time seeming to be too great to ignore. The children capitalised on that and broke more joints, and soon it could do no more than lay on the ground and wait for its death.

    The beast died with a wet, gurgling shudder and bloody foam around its mouth. Its lungs had been pierced by cracked ribs long ago, further accelerating its death.

    Once it did, the panting children wasted no time assisting their comrades with the other two beasts, which were already on the brink of death. They, too, quickly fell under a barrage of weapons from all sides.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    When the last boar finally died, the children gathered in front of their corpses. John, Ronnie, Jessica, Logan, Lydia and the others watched the fallen beasts in silence before erupting in cheers.

    That cheer didn¡¯t last long, however, due to the sobering fact that the danger was far from being over. They were still in hostile territory, and John quickly suspected that it was no accident for exactly those beasts to have slipped through the net.

    After all, these beasts had already been wounded beforehand, and were just at the right level of danger to seriously threaten, but far from outright killing a mob of almost sixty children.

    John sucked his halberd into his core once more with a grimace. He stared at his bloody and raw hands for a moment before turning his attention to his comrades. During the battle, he had been too busy keeping the beast at bay to pay attention to them.

    Jessica was clumsily helping Ronnie bandage a long bleeding gash across his sword arm. The armour had borne the brunt of the attack. Only a fraction of the power had reached the affected limb. That was the reason Ronnie only had a gash and not a broken or punctured arm.

    Logan sat on the ground, gasping for breath after having screamed his lungs out during the fight. Any fights with beasts seemed to rile him up to a rather exaggerated extent. Lydia, for her part, seemed to have been the least affected of them all. She was looking at her dirt-crusted braids in dismay, though it didn¡¯t seem to bother her too much.

    His gaze briefly stopped at the eerily familiar black-haired girl, who was cutting the corpse up. Perhaps she was planning on extracting the boar¡¯s core. Whatever she was planning, though, John doubted that she would have enough to complete it before they had to set off again.

    After another cursory look confirmed that, indeed, no one was seriously hurt or unable to walk anymore, John carefully bandaged his hands before going over to help Jessica. He dissolved what must have been Jessica¡¯s tenth bandage and replaced it with one his first-aid trainers in the army would have been proud of.

    Unfortunately, Ronnie didn¡¯t seem to care about the marvellous bandage now adorning his arm. He was eerily calm for a child that had a bleeding wound stretching across its entire forearm, shallow as it might have been.

    When asked how he felt, he replied with, ¡°I¡¯m fine. I¡¯ve survived worse than this without medical attention.¡±

    Not too long after that, Franziska arrived and gave each of them a quick check-up. Confirming the same thing John had not too long ago, she congratulated them on their victory and ordered them to resume their march.

    John could hear the black-haired girl complaining about the fact that the cores would go to waste to Franziska. The broad-chested woman simply gave her an unimpressed stare and told her to get her priorities straight.

    When the children got into formation and started walking again, they were considerably more cheerful than before the battle. Most of their pent-up feelings had been vented in that brief battle against those beasts. It also made them feel like they were more than just children to be protected.

    When darkness started taking over and light became increasingly scarce, they lit torches to light the way. It certainly didn¡¯t help them escape the pursuit of the beasts, but it was a necessary evil to avoid having the children stumble around in the dark.

    Not that anyone cared about avoiding the beasts anymore, since it seemed like they had locked onto their position rather precisely. They had been marching for hours at this point ¨C a feat the three groups of children only managed due to well-timed uses of aether and their strengthened bodies ¨C and it didn¡¯t seem like the unrelenting charge of beasts would ever let up.

    Finally, some of them couldn¡¯t take it anymore and started slowing down. The formation immediately sputtered and slowed down considerably due to the sudden change of pace.

    The fitter children quickly came to the help of their less physically able comrades. Mostly, they took over and luggage or simply started dragging them along. Many did so in a notably inefficient and ineffective manner, having never learned how to do so before.

    The proud infantryman in John almost wanted to step in and teach them how to do things correctly. Almost.

    Due to the increased burden some took on, they tired themselves out even more quickly, forming a vicious circle that none could escape from. Even John, whose body contained a surprising amount of power despite his constant complaints, was eventually worn out to the point of total exhaustion. He periodically drew on his core to bolster his strength with aether, effectively enabling him to have short breaks despite carrying something some random kid¡¯s luggage.

    He relayed that ¡°technique¡± to the others around him, who thanked him with grateful smiles once they realised it worked as advertised. That, however, drained their aether reserves even faster. Those who had invested less time in either meditation or cultivation soon found themselves starved of the precious resource.

    Eventually, things came as they had to; Somewhere around midnight, most children had exhausted all their energy. They were forced to take a break, lest one of them collapsed for real. Once the teachers decided on taking a break, they immediately changed tracks. They split into two equally big groups, with half continuing to keep the beasts at bay whilst the other half created a camp to spend the night in.

    The teachers first turned the thick shrubbery and tall trees surrounding the road into woodchips and broken branches. The students, too, were slowly chopping down some of the smaller trees whilst the teachers were busy mowing through trees as if they were grass.

    Tired as he was, John didn¡¯t question the thoughts of people who let little children with considerable power chop down trees with minimal supervision. By the time the last tree fell, he carefully set the axe aside and sat down.

    He wiped the sweat off his brow and glanced at the wide clearing they had created. It would, at least, enable them to see any encroaching beasts long before they could reach them.

    ¡°Not like you need it. You have me, after all,¡± the marble interrupted his germinating thoughts.

    Too exhausted to think, he ignored the quip and focused on getting as much rest as he could before another task inevitably came.

    <hr>

    John barely paid attention to Greg and another teacher moving children out of the way as they conjured a massive cloth-tent out of nowhere. The unstable construction was quickly reinforced from the inside with metal bars and sheets, turning it into a miniature fort. It even had a few slits from which someone could presumably shoot arrows from, though none of the children had been trained in archery.

    The children were then told that they could rest inside for a few hours before they had to resume their march.

    ¡°John,¡± Ronnie whispered from where he was lying on the ground. His bandage was full of dirt. They would have to change it later.

    The boy in question looked at his friend. ¡°What?¡±, he asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have the strength to get to my feet.¡±

    John blinked. ¡°So¡­?¡±

    ¡°I was wondering, you know, since you seem quite energetic to me, if, perhaps, you could help me get into the tent.¡± The boy whose black hair was marred by strands of grass and patches of dirt grasped in the vague direction of John. ¡°Please?¡±

    John was tired. Though he was still quite a way off from being unable to move, the forced march had taken its toll on him, too. He doubted he had enough strength to carry another person into the tent.

    Thinking this far, he straightforwardly told Ronnie, ¡°No. I don¡¯t have the strength to carry you after all this.¡±

    Ronnie stared at him with puppy eyes. ¡°You don¡¯t need to carry me. There are more efficient ways of moving me.¡±

    His sky-blue eyes were convincing indeed. John tried resisting, but he quickly gave in. ¡°Such as?¡± he finally asked after averting his eyes.

    ¡°You could try¡­dragging me?¡±

    It was a valid point. John sighed, saying, ¡°I can try.¡± He grabbed the boy¡¯s arms, straightened his spine and grunted as he felt his arms and legs buckle under the strain. He stopped once he realised that he wouldn¡¯t be getting far without using aether.

    Logan happened to walk by at that moment. The boy was shuffling along the rest of the crowd, somehow managing to stay on his feet despite looking like he would topple over any second.

    ¡°Logan!¡±, John shouted.

    Logan perked up at the mention of his name, only to deflate when he saw the duo. ¡°What?¡±, the boy asked. ¡°Just in case, I¡¯m not going to help Ronnie carry his lazy ass up there. If everyone else can do it, why can¡¯t he?¡± He shook his head and resumed putting one deliberate foot in front of the other.

    ¡°Oh come on Logan! You still owe me for that candy bar I hid for you!¡± Ronnie shouted.

    Logan stopped. The two boys stared at each other for a moment whilst John was massaging his aching legs. Finally, Logan snorted and walked towards the tent with a smug smile. ¡°I know that you can walk in there yourself, asshole. Don¡¯t drag me into this just because you¡¯re a lazy bum.¡±

    John watched walk away with a disapproving frown. That was no way to treat your brother in arms. Back in the day, such a display of blatant disregard of one¡¯s comrades would have been answered with punishment, carried out by either his other comrades or the responsible officer themselves.

    Unfortunately, they were not in New Pandora, and John would rather die than run to Franziska to cry about Logan¡¯s antics.

    ¡°What an asshole,¡± Ronnie muttered.

    ¡°An asshole indeed,¡± John agreed.

    John shook his head. He would like to think that he was too old for such pettiness, but that was obviously not true.

    ¡°You know, I could try rolling you on a bunch of sticks. It¡¯s probably going to be easier.¡±

    Ronnie put a hand to his chin, thinking for a while. Finally, he said, ¡°Nah, you know what? Just help me get up. I think I can manage.¡±

    Rolling his eyes, John did as he was told and helped the trembling and sweating boy to his feet. Ronnie stumbled at first, having to put a hand on John¡¯s shoulder to stabilise himself. Quickly, he took a few slow steps before turning around and giving John a thumbs up.

    ¡°Off we go, my loyal steed!¡±, Ronnie said with laughter in his voice as they walked through the tent flap. John gave the impudent boy a light elbow to the ribs. Ronnie responded by pushing him playfully.

    They continued like that until they reached two empty mattresses. Since their armours were relatively comfortable and they had been told to keep it on anyways, the two boys simply threw themselves onto their mattresses.

    Sleep quickly overtook them.

 Chapter 25

    John held the fruit of many years of hard work in his hands. It was a sleek, neat and deadly masterpiece of a rifle. The NP-993, an object that should, by all means, have been put in a museum centuries ago but had somehow found its way in John¡¯s hands when he had still been a young man.

    He raised the rifle and aimed at an approaching beast, then fired. There was a deafening crack, and the beast¡¯s head exploded in gore and thick bone splinters.

    A grin spread out on John¡¯s face as he emptied the rest of the magazine, decimating the encroaching mob in the process. Each shot was perfect, magically finding its way into each beast¡¯s instant-kill spots.

    Just at that time, a giant dragon flew by overhead. John summoned an anti-air gun station and jumped into it, quickly shooting the fearsome beast down in a shower of bullets. ¡®In the end, the technological difference is just too big. No amount of martial skill can bridge a technological gap spanning millennia,¡¯ John thought as he let his weapons station rest.

    Suddenly, the ground started shaking. A black line streaked across the ground like a lightning bolt, and the ground parted like water underneath John¡¯s feet. Already unstable from the vibrations, the old man fell like a stone. His weapons station soon overtook him, rushing into the abyss like a bullet.

    Naturally, he had been prepared for all possibilities. John summoned a jetpack right onto his shoulders, shaking a little as the thrusters took a moment to stabilise his body. He wiped the cold sweat off his brow. That had been uncomfortably close.

    The old man glared at the bottomless abyss that had opened underneath him. Its mere presence gave his skin crawl. He fiddled with the jetpack controls in his hand, steering the jetpack away from that ominous hellhole.

    He flew a minute in silence. Strangely, the marble stayed silent all the way through despite his attempts at contacting it.

    The old man shook his head. It didn¡¯t matter. He needed to-

    The jetpack started sputtering and fizzling. John took a deep breath and fiddled with the controls again. His shaky hands almost made him mess up a few times.

    ¡®Cool, stay cool or you¡¯re gonna end up some bloody smear on a boulder. Cooler than ice, cooler than...cucumbers? Worse comes to worst, there¡¯s still the built-in parachute.¡¯

    The dying engine provided him with a stable amount of propulsion, enabling him to smoothly glide towards the closest rocky outcropping. When there were only three metres between him and salvation, the engine sputtered for one last time before it stopped working.

    For a timeless moment, John was weightless. Then, gravity asserted its dominance and dragged the old man down with ruthless efficiency. Shoving the panic welling up in his head aside, John yanked at the red handhold that was supposed to release the parachute

    Nothing happened.

    His heart hammering in his chest, John tried the backup. Nothing

    His heart hammering in his chest, John retrieved his jetpack and searched his core for something that would slow his flight. Various knickknacks, board games, food and many more flashed past his mind. As interesting as all those might have been in other times, they wouldn¡¯t help him get out of this situation alive. He could hear the wind screaming past his ears as his fall became faster and faster. The walls of the hole became ever larger, the sky soon becoming no more than a fleck of blue.

    ¡°MARBLE! HELP ME! I¡¯LL DO WHATEVER YOU WANT, JUST GET ME OUT OF HERE!¡±, John screamed, but it stayed silent.

    There was something seriously wrong here. Could it be that it had tricked him all along? That was certainly not beyond it, but why support him all the way here when it could have had him killed off much sooner?

    Then he could feel it.

    Vast, ancient and powerful.

    John could feel its gaze rest on him like a headlight shining on his face. It was too much. Far too much for a mere human to take.

    ?

    A black membrane sprung up around him, somehow causing the entity to shift its attention to another place. Before John had a chance to question anything, he felt his feet connect with something and break into a thousand-

    <hr>

    -shards of pain that woke him up with a seizure-like jerk. The boy gasped and shook, his armour clanking noisily. He shuddered, then stared at his young hands.

    He wasn¡¯t old yet. He was young. That had been a dream. Nothing but a dream.

    When had he taken a wrong turn to have everything go to shit like that? The last part, especially, felt too real to be a mere dream. Fortunately, John just knew whom to turn to when something fishy was going on.

    He prodded the marble with his mind, receiving feedback in the form of grunts and swears. A theory began to form in his mind, but he couldn¡¯t confirm anything until the damn thing responded.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Being too awake to go to sleep again and having nothing else to do, John decided to meditate. Knowing his situation all too well, John prodded Ronnie awake to help him. Though the pale boy mumbled and grumbled at first, he eventually agreed to watch John whilst he meditated. Whilst John doubted that Ronnie would be able to detect anything going wrong with his aether, he could, at least, rely on the boy smacking him when he felt his attention wandering.

    John sat up properly, an action borne out of habit rather than necessity. With a simple thought, his core released a stream of aether that entered his channels. It first flowed through the major channels, completing a full revolution through the torso and then flowing over to the limbs. Slowly but surely, he then worked it into the insides of his organs and bone marrow.

    Time passed, and his aether permeated deeper and deeper. It soon filled his entire body, leaving no stretch without a vigorous aether supply. John concentrated harder, and the aether flow increased.

    He was in the flow. He could do this. The more aether he managed to work into his deep tissues, the more comprehensive and greater the strengthening. The tendrils of aether continued thickening as the coursed through his body, the core replacing all the lost aether.

    John¡¯s concentration grew. This was the only way to become stronger. No matter how much aether he had, it would be useless if his channels and body couldn¡¯t handle it.

    That¡¯s why he needed to be more precise, provide more aether. He might be weak now, but he hadn¡¯t been cultivating for long. Though he couldn¡¯t use aether senses yet, the fact that he had been the first to reach that step told him he was taking steps in the right direction.

    Eventually, his aether had permeated all it could. But it felt incomplete, like something was missing. His aether felt more sluggish, but at the same time far freer than ever before.

    ¡®What the hell?¡¯ John slowed the circulation, the incongruence even clearer now that he was focusing on it. ¡®When did this start?¡¯

    A bony fist struck John¡¯s face before he could think any further. John opened his eyes and groaned, giving Ronnie his best glare whilst massaging his cheek. ¡°What the hell was that for?¡±, he asked. Already, he could feel the circulation slow. Soon, the aether would retreat from the more obscure channels.

    ¡°You started frowning, so I hit you. You know you¡¯re not in a position to get lost in cultivation.¡± Ronnie¡¯s face was dead serious.

    John deflated. ¡°Thank you, I guess¡­ no, never mind. I was just thinking. Try shaking me or something next time, okay?¡±

    Ronnie nodded with a grin. ¡°Sure thing boss. I¡¯ll be gentle next time.¡±

    John sighed and put the mischievous boy out of his mind. The sudden change in his aether was probably connected to the dream he had just had. He prodded the marble again but got nothing but a static of curses in return.

    Deciding that he would ask Greg once he got a hold of him, John resumed his meditation until he felt his aether reach the eighty per cent mark, which was enough to sustain him at maximum power for almost an hour. Considering the dangerous situation they were in, he didn¡¯t dare lower it any further.

    John sent Ronnie back to sleep after that, soon remaining the sole awake person in the huge tent. His only companions were the soft breaths of children and the occasional metallic ring as they shifted in their sleep.

    John had to admit that the children looked quite cute whilst they slept, dirty and exhausted as their faces might have been. They didn¡¯t cause a ruckus or run around screaming.

    They just slept, like kids that had been out playing all day and gone to bed without cleaning up. If it weren¡¯t for the armour all of them wore¡­

    John frowned, then slapped his face softly. They didn¡¯t need his pity, just like he didn¡¯t need the pity of anyone else. What they needed was the time and resources required to reach their potential, as well as a healthy dose of determination.

    Not wanting to dwell on things he couldn¡¯t change, John shifted his thoughts to the adults still fighting outside. When did they sleep? Or was it that they did not need to do so anymore after cultivating past a certain point? Even if their bodies didn¡¯t need rest, however, their minds certainly would after a certain point. There was only so long people could go without a break.

    Plenty of experiments with cybernetically enhanced humans had proven that fact, over and over again. The human mind simply wasn¡¯t made for such activity. But then again, magic.

    ¡®What a convenient way to explain everything you can¡¯t understand,¡¯ John thought. He shifted about.

    He¡¯d felt so close to achieving a breakthrough. Should he risk it?

    John took a deep breath and suppressed his impulses. That was enough. There was no reason to take risks he didn¡¯t need to. Slow and steady was the way to become stronger. Maybe once the marble was done and he was back in safety he could make another attempt.

    Having thought things out this far, John was about to go to bed when he felt a shiver creep down his spine. He tried to shake it off, but the ominous pressure was impossible to shake off. It gradually strengthened, even, until the air felt stale and stifling.

    Narrowing his eyes, John summoned his halberd and stood up. His gaze methodically swept the insides of the tent for any clues.

    Nothing.

    Everything was calm, just as it was supposed to be.

    Why, then, was his gut screaming at him that something was wrong? It neither the tent nor the people inside. No, there was something in the air that made him uneasy. He could almost taste it, so vivid was the feeling.

    John gulped. There was no way he could sleep under these conditions. His eyes shifted towards the tent flap. There should be a teacher standing guard right outside of it. Maybe they could tell him what was happening?

    John tiptoed between his sleeping comrades, almost brushing some of them on the way. Fortunately, they were exhausted enough to sleep too deeply to awaken from mere brushes against their armours.

    When John finally pushed the tent flaps aside, he was greeted by the sight of two unfamiliar teachers staring at the sky. Feeling his gut drop, John followed their gazes. Up and up he craned his neck, the sky becoming increasingly dark as he did so. When he looked straight up, he saw inky, roiling clouds gather directly above them.

    He sniffed. It didn¡¯t smell like a storm was coming up. A soft breeze blew across the clearing, carrying none of the tension he normally felt before a big storm, either.

    But he could feel it flow across his skin and welling from the depths of his marrow; Something was coming. Something big and scary that would make him rue the day he was ever reborn if he ever so much as caught its attention.

    John licked his lips, suddenly finding himself to be quite parched. He summoned his water flask and took a few calming sips. Quite a lot was spilt over his armour due to shaking hands, but he paid that no heed. Feeling calmer now, he prodded and knocked at the marble¡¯s mental presence, but its cursing seemed to only have intensified.

    He had an inkling that it knew what was going on and was probably doing everything in its power to prevent everything from going to shit. John hoped that it knew what it was doing. There was no way he could fight or outrun whatever was coming, and he doubted his teachers, powerful as they might be, could do much more than him.

    ¡°I hate my luck,¡± John said as he could feel the first hints of humidity gather in the air.

    The winds picked up, and thunder rolled in the distant skies above their heads.

    It was coming.

 Chapter 26

    A meaty hand clapped down on John¡¯s shoulder, almost causing him to sink to his knees. John looked up at its owner. It was one of the teachers, a big and burly man with a neat beard covering half his face. There was a strained smile on his face.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you go back to the tent, sonny? It¡¯s not safe out here,¡± he said, his massive paws gently pushing John back into the tent.

    John strained against the pressure, but it proved useless in front of that unstoppable force. ¡°Sir,¡± he said whilst taking a few steps back, ¡°what is going on? Why are the clouds like that?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not something for you to worry about. Go back inside and let the adults handle it,¡± the man replied, this time less friendly.

    John winced. ¡°Sir, I-¡°

    ¡°This is not the time for backtalk, boy,¡± the older man snapped. He picked John up by the breastplate and carried him inside. No matter what John said, it was useless. The teacher wouldn¡¯t listen and simply closed the tent flaps. John made for the tent flaps, only to discover that they had been sewn shut.

    John sighed, putting a hand against the hard fabric. It was no use. He¡¯d even tried to explain the matter with the marble, but the teacher wouldn¡¯t believe him. It wasn¡¯t like he could actually summon the marble after all, not that it would comply even if he could.

    His guts churned with impotent fury and fear, but there was nothing he could do.

    The sound of armour rustling finally caused John to turn his head back. He noted that the commotion had caused a few of his comrades to stir in their sleep, some probably having woken up but then gone to sleep again.

    He was too busy to feel apologetic, though. There had to be a way out. But he couldn¡¯t run away. That would be stupid. He was alone, surrounded by enemies and with an unfathomably powerful foe on the way.

    What did he have? He had himself and his comrades, though he felt that they hardly mattered in the bigger scheme of things. Then, there were the six teachers accompanying them. They were obviously extremely powerful, but his intuition told him that they were far from powerful enough. They wouldn''t have been so tense if they were.

    Was there anything he could do that they could not?

    ¡­ Nothing?

    At least nothing that could help him at the moment. John dearly regretted not indulging his passing interest in obsolete weaponry more. Perhaps then he could have manufactured bombs, or anything else that could have helped him at this juncture.

    Really, guns were the only things he had more than the slightest idea about, but they were useless due to his incapability to manufacture them. Though John also had rudimentary knowledge of primitive chemical weapons, he wouldn¡¯t even consider bringing those into this world, especially not when the risk of friendly fire existed. Or warriors that could, perhaps, find a way to reverse-engineer them.

    Nope, he was definitely not going to be the one credited with bringing chemical warfare and rightfully banned weaponry into this world.

    The only thing that meaningfully set him apart from his peers, then, was the existence of the marble. Unfortunately, it was busy freaking out and spewing incoherent sounds that vaguely resembled bits and pieces of language.

    Thunder rumbled again, this time far closer than before. John frowned as he looked up at the vaguely brown ceiling of the tent. Was it coming already?

    Just then, Greg burst through the tent flap. The old man¡¯s robe was marred with a multitude of bloodstains, prompting John to look closer when Greg snapped his fingers. A cold wall of water blasted John''s face back, somehow avoiding any of his orifices but still soaking him.

    The entire tent rose in a chorus of shocked screams, only to be silenced by a deafening clap by Greg.

    The commotion quickly died down when they realised who it was that had awoken them. Greg¡¯s stare quickly made even the noisiest yappers shut up. ¡°We have no time for this, children. Your resting time is over. Get ready, we will leave shortly,¡± the old man said.

    John was fairly sure that they still had some time until the time they had been given would run out. Who was he to complain about moving away from the source of his feeling of invariable doom, though?

    Having gone so far as having slept in their armour, the children didn¡¯t have much to prepare. As such, they quickly rose and checked each other¡¯s armours. With Greg''s intimidating presence hovering at the entrance, the children didn''t bother with anything but the bare necessities.

    Greg motioned for them to walk out once he made sure they were done, waiting at the tent flap and personally inspecting every child that walked past him. A few children ahead of John were snatched aside, their armours adjusted fixed with firm hands before being pushed out to join their comrades once again.

    The air was thick with tension when John emerged from the tent. The sky was still a roiling mess of inky blots, now interspersed with the occasional lightning bolt. He could see all six teachers assembled around them, their faces not betraying the slightest hint of emotions as they watched them assemble into a marching formation and set off at a brisk pace.

    The mood didn¡¯t allow any questions, leaving everyone somewhat clueless as to what was going on. Though no rain fell, their formation was nevertheless interrupted with every rumbling of thunder that washed over them.

    ¡®I never realised that so many are afraid of thunder,¡¯ John thought as he watched Lydia¡¯s and a few other heads he couldn¡¯t identify immediately flinch. ''Well, it''s not like that fear is an unjustified one,'' his thoughts continued as he watched a distant lightning bolt turn a tree into charred splinters.

    The small amusement he felt was overshadowed, however, by the fact that he couldn¡¯t wrap his head around what his teachers were doing. There was no way they could outmarch a storm, even if they started sprinting as fast as they could.

    His link to the marble suddenly opened. John''s eyes opened wide, a hundred thoughts stewing in his head. The marble was faster than him, however.

    ¡°JOHN!¡±, it screamed in his mind.

    This time, John was the one who stumbled. A few helping hands prevented anything more unfortunate, supporting and shoving him until he got into the rhythm again.

    ¡®I expect answers,¡¯ he grumbled when he didn¡¯t have to divert most of his attention to simply keeping up anymore.

    ¡°Look, this is no time to act like a drama queen. We¡¯re in deep shit, friend. I don¡¯t know how this happened, but it seems like we have caught the attention of something we shouldn¡¯t have. You and I, we¡¯re going to be fucked if we don''t lay low for a while, alright?"

    The marble started drifting off in curses before John could reply. ¡°I don¡¯t have a lot of attention to spare right now, so do me a favour and try not to stand out. We should be fine¡­¡±

    ¡°Unless the planet itself or some other bullshit tries to interfere. I have reason to believe one of the greater entities living here is causing this commotion. Stick with your group and we have a chance of getting out here without being reduced to charred powder, alright?¡± John felt the connection close again as soon as it said its part.

    ¡®Hey, HEY? What the hell?¡¯ John tried contacting it but was ignored every time. ''You little shit! Dropping a bomb like this on me and then running off? We''ll see if you won''t regret this!''

    John raged on for a while, hurling the most colourful curses his mind could come up with at the mental barrier separating them.

    The first of many raindrops bounced off John¡¯s helmet just as he got tired from raging internally. He looked up, looking past the tired faces of his marching comrades.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    Belatedly, he realised that not a single teacher had been sent out to fight the beasts. Instead, they kept a hexagon around their charges, vigilantly watching their surroundings.

    Now that he thought about it, he hadn''t heard any beasts recently, either. The stench of blood was still heavy in the air, though.

    The relief over their pursuers'' withdrawal John felt, however, was vastly overshadowed by the fact that whatever was coming was scarier than death to those suicidal beasts.

    Suddenly, the dread sapping strength from his limbs intensified with a painful clench. John¡¯s step hitched. He stumbled forward, the helmet banging on the pauldron of the child in front of him with a metallic clang.

    John fought back against the nausea. Some hands were holding him steady, but otherwise not moving. Looking up when the worst had passed, John noticed that their formation had halted as a whole. All of them were staring up at the sky, where winds and rain intermingled and became a terrifying vortex. It was...descending towards them. John''s ears were filled with the sounds of intensifying winds and pattering raindrops.

    "Heavenly Seas above..." he heard someone say.

    John tore his eyes away from the skies and looked at the teachers, whose expressions had turned into frowns. They were huddling and whispering something at each other whilst throwing the occasional glance upwards. Unfortunately, John was too far away to hear what they were saying.

    However, that didn''t mean things had to stay that way. John scanned the small pond of heads for familiar faces and quickly found Ronnie, who had craned his neck back to see as much as possible. John pushed his way through the crowd until he reached the young man with nary a grumble or venomous stare. He rapped the other boy''s helmet twice, which was enough to break him out of his stupor.

    "John? I...no, never mind. Do you know what is going on?", Ronnie said. John almost couldn''t hear him through the other sounds pelting his eardrums.

    "I don''t know. How about we get the others and ask the teachers? They''ll probably tell us if there are enough people asking."

    Ronnie thought for a moment and then nodded. They then split off to convince the rest of their classmates.

    It didn''t take long to rally the children into a coherent mass that interrupted the teachers'' impromptu meeting.

    "It is only fair that you know what is happening," Greg said with just a hint of exasperation. The old man had been chosen as the person to inform them after another short session of hushed whispers. If the faint frown on his face was any indication, he wasn''t all too happy about that. "The Heavenly Seas have seen fit to send a messenger. I do not presume to know what they want, but know that it probably has nothing to do with us. What we are going to do is barricade ourselves underground and wait for the storm to pass. Your job will be to watch our surroundings whilst we do so."

    The old man made sure that they had all understood him and then made them form a wide circle around the teachers. They were scattered all across the trees and bushes. John had been forced to climb a tree, whilst Ronnie was shoved under a bush. From his vantage point, John could see Jessica''s fiery hair stand out against the greenery as she laid in a groove between two massive roots. Ronnie was not too far away either, the boy having been positioned in a particularly thick patch of vegetation. He couldn''t spy Lydia from his vantage point, but vaguely remembered her walking towards a section of high grass.

    John shook his head. They would be fine. This wasn''t the time to suddenly start caring for his fellow classmates.

    Instead, he focused on the forest. Sweeping the hair clinging to his face back, John watched out for any suspicious shapes moving around.

    The moon stood out brightly among the carpet of stars, illuminating the forest in an ever-changing dance of light and shadow. His breath hitched when he spied upon thousands of critters and animals wildly running into and through the dark sea of branches and leaves. They were, fortunately, keeping a healthy distance from their position. It seemed like these beasts weren''t quite as suicidal as their dead cousins, having chosen to avoid their position even if it meant taking a massive detour.

    The sound of explosions distracted John from his musings. His head almost whipped back, but he restrained his instincts. The teachers had already informed that their construction wouldn''t have to be quite as silent or subtle anymore. Still, it sounded like a miniature war was being carried out behind him. The only sound that was missing were the screams of the dead and the smell of-

    Breathe, John breathed in and out. He was even more scatterbrained than normal. It would have been fine on most other days, but he couldn''t afford that right now.

    The rest of their short stint as guards passed quickly, and soon John carefully stepped over upturned dirt and splintered pieces of trees. They were ushered towards what could only be called the entrance to an underground bunker, descending to their new shelter through an incredibly ornate ladder that John suspected had been lying around in one of the teacher''s cores. The inside only strengthened that impression, with the hallway being a perfectly circular tunnel lined with a dull metal. A number of fluorescent stones were embedded in them, providing adequate lighting for their group.

    After the last of them had entered, Franziska conjured a hatch and closed the entrance off with a bang. The moment she did so, the walls lit up with a green flowing script that ran across its length. A faint breeze started flowing through the tunnels, solving the problem of air circulation before John could even think of it.

    John wasn''t given any time to marvel at the most overtly supernatural phenomenon he''d witnessed so far, however. They descended further under their teachers'' lead, their footsteps and breaths the only things echoing in the narrow tunnels.

    Fortunately, John had no particular problem with tight spaces. He glanced at his classmates, finding them mostly calm as well.

    They quickly reached the end of the tunnel, entering a cavern supported by imposing grey pillars. Unlike their previous passage, however, this place was crawling with the green script. John could spy it everywhere he looked, its green glow hard to miss as it rushed to and fro in the dim lighting. When they passed some of the larger sections, he felt like it vaguely resembled Frumentian in the way it looked, but dismissed the budding suspicion just as quickly. If the common writing system had some sort of innate magical power, they definitely wouldn''t be teaching children how to read and write.

    It''s not like a bunch of superpowered children with the ability to essentially create anything they wanted wasn''t dangerous enough already.

    They reached the centre of the cavern without any other surprises. A cleared-out space of grey stone, there was nothing remarkable to it. No script, no glowing stones except on the curved ceiling. It was only mildly disappointing. John would have loved the chance to study those words further.

    After settling down, Franziska and the other two junior teachers separated their students from the big mass they had at some point flowed into. They gave each other enough space to be almost out of earshot of each other and sat them down for impromptu lessons. It was most likely to return them a sense of normalcy after many hours of flight, and John had to admit that it was undeniably effective.

    The three elder teachers had vanished at some point. It was hardly unusual, considering their circumstances, but it still sent a small ripple through the children once they realised their absence.

    Franziska was doing her best to keep their attention focused on her, but it was an exercise in futility. The children were naturally still respectful - none of them were stupid enough not to be - but everyone could tell that their attention was elsewhere.

    Case in point, John was more occupied by analysing the situation than actually listening to her words. Not that he would have minded that, either. Anything was better than stewing with his thoughts.

    "...which means that you should absolutely avoid ever-" Franziska froze when a droplet of water landed on her nose.

    The entire room stared upwards in synch, looking towards the source of the turbulence. John squinted and averted his eyes once he realised that the glowing stones were too bright to make out the leak''s exact position. Instead, he focused on Franziska, who was now placing a bowl right below where her nose used to be.

    She silently watched the droplets shattering against its metallic surface. Perhaps sensing John''s gaze, she looked up and looked at him with a reassuring smile. John smiled back, hoping that his unease wasn''t too obvious.

    If she noticed, she didn''t let it show. The tall woman stood up, drawing her charges'' attention again. "Okay children, that''s enough. Let''s focus on the lesson again, shall we?"

    John and his classmates chorused a "Yes Ma''am." and gathered around her.

    Both the bowl and the steady stream of droplets running down from the ceiling had disappeared by the time John thought about them again.

    Franziska had just restarted her lesson when Greg and the other two senior teachers burst into the scene. The two men and one woman were soaked from head to toe, leaving a wet trail behind as they strode over.

    "Children," the old man said in between heavy breaths, "it is time for an impromptu lesson in spiritual worship. Follow me up, you are all needed." Having said his piece, the old man turned on his heel and motioned them to follow him.

    John looked at Ronnie, who shrugged at him. Wondering just how many times they''ve been interrupted like this so far, he joined the orderly stream of children on their way back up.

    "Hey Ronnie," John whispered once they came close. The boy had been somewhat off for quite a while now. "Why are we not using water-repelling clothes? Even I can make clothes that at least won''t get soaked every time it rains."

    The other boy took a few seconds to respond. His face scrunched up in concentration as they waited for the others to climb up the stairs. "I think it has something to do with respect? I once heard that it is respectful to reject the gift of rain from the Endless Seas above. Never thought it would be literal, though."

    ''Oh, wonderful,'' John thought, it seemed like spirit etiquette was a thing. That, combined with the fact that the teachers were too relaxed for them to immediately launch into a battle. That probably meant that whatever was coming could be reasoned with. The marble had probably meant this when it had told him to stay low-key.

    There was a brief stint of chaos when Greg opened the hatch. Lydia and two other girls who were at the forefront were immediately blasted by torrential rain. They bore it with barely a quiet shiver before climbing up the ladder.

    John smiled when he could feel the feeling of inexorable doom lessen when he climbed up. If everything went well, they could probably get out of this without any further incident.

    He ignored the marble cursing like a madman in the backdrop of his head.

 Chapter 27

    Rain and wind whipped against John''s armour as he knelt in the rain. Thunder rumbled incessantly, and the sound of crashing trees came in distantly, hard wood cracking as they dragged their neighbours down.

    However important those things were, however, they paled in comparison to the religious act he''d been forced into. He held a thick metal pipe in his hands, attaching it to the rising structure with all the delicacy he could muster. They were building a metal tower. By hand. In the middle of a torrential storm that seethed with lightning.

    It seemed suicidal; pointless and suicidal.

    He supposed one of his teachers simply pulling out of their cores would have defeated the purpose of the ritual.

    John had no idea which idiot believed that would be a good way to appease the heavens'' wrath, but he was quite sure they hadn''t gone on to live a long life. Hell, he was of half a mind to simply bolt and try his luck in the wilderness. They were simply courting death by building a damn lightning rod in the middle of a storm.

    He shoved the pipe into place with a strained grunt, huffing as he checked it for stability. It held firmly. Nodding to himself, John wiped the water out of his eyes and went back to grab the next one.

    John dearly hoped that this would truly serve to appease the descending spirit. His gut seemed to agree, though common sense told him what he was doing and thinking was ridiculous.

    But then again, they were in a magical world where any random person in the street was, theoretically, capable of producing weapons of mass destruction at the drop of a hat. Common sense had no place in a world like that.

    Suppressing the twitch that interrupted his movements every time lightning struck, John wrangled the pipe in his hands until it was in a somewhat comfortable position.

    He looked at Greg for further instructions, the old man''s white clothes on an elevated platform the rain splattered on hard to miss. It took a while until Greg found time for him, and when he did, he pointed towards the very highest portion of their growing project. It had turned out surprisingly decent, considering that they had churned it out in what must have been an hour. His destination was almost level with the surrounding trees. Very, very close to attracting the next errant bolt of lightning.

    John''s right eye twitched. He didn''t say anything. He wouldn''t be the first to complain, and certainly not the last.

    ''Here''s to hoping nothing zaps me to death,'' he thought as he started ascending the winding stone stairs that surrounded their project. He could have turned his armour into a faraday cage if they''d told him beforehand. That, at least, could have given him a fair chance at surviving a lightning bolt.

    Out of habit, John waited for the marble to send a mocking retort. His shoulders slumped when he remembered that none would be coming in quite a while.

    Taking his time on the secure surface of the stone stairs surrounding the deathtrap, John made space for a shivering Ronnie to pass through. The boy''s armour was rattling even whilst standing still. It would have been noisy had it not been for the roaring background noises.

    "You can take it slow, y''know?", John said as they were about to pass each other.

    Ronnie''s helmet revealed no emotion, but he could still see it shake from side to side. "I, I can''t. Now when everyone else is doing it, too." There was a brief pause as Ronnie stopped, and John followed suit. "If lightning strikes, being down there is no safer than up here. An-" The boy''s words were interrupted by lightning shattering a close-by tree. It''s bright light blinded them, and the ensuing thunder drowned out every other sound.

    John almost slipped then, the heavy weight of the pipe and Ronnie''s trembling hand the only things keeping him from falling to his death, or more likely Franziska''s or Greg''s arms.

    Then, the other boy shifted his weight, and now John snapped his arm out to stabilise him in turn. They tugged at each other like that for a while, each boy balancing off the other.

    They let go of each other once their senses returned, John chuckling nervously as he watched the new, smoking hole in the canopy. Ronnie joined in, and they laughed together at the fact that this was happening, and that they were both still alive.

    The adrenaline rush passed quickly, though, and by the end, the two were just tired. "Let''s talk some other time?", Ronnie suggested.

    John nodded, and the two parted ways. It didn''t take long to reach the platform marking the highest heights he could ascend to, his soles squeaking as they rubbed against hard metal. The vista of a long, long fall was visible beyond the edges of the metal square he stood on. One lonely pole was positioned right in front of the stairway, the tall object making it difficult to manoeuvre past.

    Ignoring the unkind thoughts in his head with ease only years of practice could bring, John looked for the markings Franziska had left behind. Fortunately, the rain and wind did an excellent job at washing muddy footprints away. The dim lighting also made the glowing circles marking his intended targets better.

    Choosing the closest one, John wedged it in with care. It fit perfectly, slipping through his hands and then tightening by itself as an unknown property that must have cost an ungodly amount of aether activated and melted the wedge close. He stepped back, admiring the now second pole standing on the platform before making his way to the staircase.

    Naturally, the storm took that very moment to kick it up by a notch.

    John had no time to react before a splintering branch of blinding lightning made the forest around the tower explode into flames and wooden splinters. Something hit his chestplate with a sharp twang, the impact and following thunder driving all thoughts out. He slipped, and his hands shot out as they grasped for something to hold on to.

    John found himself on clutching a metal pole when the disorientation had faded. His ears were ringing too loud to think. His lungs were screaming for air, and he tried to take a breath only to stop halfway. Something was pressing on his chest, or at least making breathing difficult.

    Groaning, the boy sat up. He quickly discovered that the cause for his breathing problems laid in a massive dent in the middle of his breastplate.

    The boy coughed once, before gritting his teeth and reabsorbing the entire upper half of his armour. It sank into his skin without a hitch, freeing his lungs to take a desperately needed breath of fresh air.

    "Fuck, that was close," he choked out when his lungs finally stopped burning. Focusing on breathing deeply now, John followed his gut and looked up, where a river of clouds was descending on their position.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    John took a moment to appreciate the unique vista before his logical mind kicked in. ''A...what is coming at us?''

    He pushed himself to his aching feet before pacing towards the stairway. Laying on the highest platform of their offering didn''t exactly sound like a good way to stay the fuck out of whatever the approaching thing''s radar was. John thanked himself for fashioning the sabatons'' soles to make traversing most surfaces no problem.

    His classmates were already kneeling in the mud when he jumped over the last of the stairs. Their heads were bowed, eyes closed and hands held together.

    Mud splashed all over their reverent poses when John ran over and slid into his assigned place. He muttered apologies on the way, lest nasty surprises await him once they got back to safety, but kept them brief and hurried. Once he, too, had fallen into position, he fell silent along with the rest of them. The next part was supposed to be important.

    John saw his teachers step forward before he, too, closed his eyes.

    For a while, there were only roaring winds and thunderous rumbles. John suppressed the urge to move and sat still, waiting for something to happen. Rain pattered against his helmet and mud started soaking through his armour into the clothes underneath. He could feel his dry lips, and the thousand little aches he hadn''t even noticed due to his constant movement. Now, they were returning with a vengeance, and he wondered how he''d ever forgotten about them.

    If nothing else, John could take solace in the fact that he was focused enough not to sink into his thoughts. That thought reaffirmed itself when he heard a deep gong bellow across their entire region. It hurt his ears a little, but then again so did the lightning he had survived not too long ago. The five adults were chanting something he couldn''t quite make out through the background noise, but John was sure it was some sort of religious prayer, perhaps hundreds of years old and archaic beyond belief.

    But it seemed to work. The storm seemed to subside a bit, and the thunders became more distant. Instead, he could feel the wind picking up and his stomach clench painfully. He almost hurled then and there, but somehow managed to keep his meagre lunch down with nothing else than sheer willpower and a dreadful fear of death. He was only grateful for the fact that the teachers had deemed there not to be enough time to teach them the appropriate prayers. Puking during a prayer seemed like a good way to be smitten into dust.

    And then John felt the presence descend for real. It was pure power distilled into an existential dread that John couldn''t compare himself to. He was nothing but an uplifted monkey against the approaching quasi-divinity. A short fleck in the life of an immortal cloud, evermore drifting by and watching the lands below until something caught its attention. His blood ran cold when he realised that something in this forest had caused it to descend.

    The air shuddered, and wind blew into John''s helmet through the breathing holes. The chanting intensified until John was able to understand the occasional word, the rest being lost in the roaring winds. It contained words John wasn''t comfortable with, such as "ceremonial sacrifice" or "reverent subjects", but then again they were supposed to appease something causing a terrifying storm, not talk to their equal.

    Seconds passed as increasingly stronger winds descended, buffeting all of them in what felt like an almost tangible current of air. John gritted his teeth and leaned against the wind, fighting the gale to avoid being lifted into the storm. The additional weight his armour would have provided would have been worth its weight in gold.

    John flinched when a large hand came down on his shoulder. He had just enough time to realise that it belonged to Franzika before he was snatched and thrown into the air.

    Naturally, John screamed as he soared into the skies. He was cut short by another, larger pair of hands catching him like a mortal might catch a ball, letting his momentum bleed out with a series of slow spins that made the boy sick to the stomach.

    "There we go," he heard Greg say. He seemed exhausted, though John was incapable of seeing any details due to his visor. "Don''t be so tense, now will you? The messenger has demanded to inspect every one of you, so just keep your mouth shut and let it do its thing. You''re not guilty, so long as you shut your trap nothing bad is going to happen to you. Nod if you understand what I am saying."

    ''Deep breaths,'' John reminded himself as he nodded. ''No one is suspecting anything. Your conscience is clear.''

    He was then held tossed upwards, where a spinning funnel of air and rain arose to carry him towards the rumbling thunderclouds. John spun and flailed as he shot through the air like an arrow, the acceleration contorting his features into a ridiculous grimace. Rain smashed against his uncovered face, the droplets becoming painful weapons at the speeds he was travelling at.

    The flailing intensified when he penetrated the cloud layer and found himself surrounded by a sea of inky mist. He slowly decelerated from there, coming to a stop in what must have been somewhere in the middle of the cloud.

    John hung there for a long instant, suspended thousands of metres in the air. Perhaps John should have been upset or desperate, but in truth, the only feeling John felt then was a deep sense of repressed anger. He was helpless again, his life depending on the whims of a being he couldn''t do anything about. First the horde of suicidal beasts and now this pseudo-divinity descending for seemingly no apparent reason.

    He was done with this. Done with these ridiculous occurrences that popped out of nowhere and threw his life for a loop.

    Once he grew up - and John hated having to say this once more - he definitely wouldn''t such things happen again. He needed more power. Enough to make anything like this over-glorified meteorological phenomenon think twice about crossing him.

    An inhuman, all-encompassing attention settled on him. Thunder boomed as lightning flashed all around him.

    Flinching at the ridiculously loud sound, John took a few wary glances at the clouds around him. Nothing, as expected from a faceless and nameless and entity. Remembering his teacher''s wise words, John shut his mouth and waited.

    He didn''t have to wait long as mist solidified and enveloped him in a cool embrace. Cloth and leather didn''t stop its advance for even a second, the insidious mist perhaps not even realising that there had been something in the way.

    Goosebumps erupted on John''s skin when the icy air reached it. An intense feeling of wrongness overwhelmed him, but before John could act on the hunch he felt a surge of foreign aether breaking through his skin and entering the body underneath. It filled his veins with ice, instantly sucking all the energy and heat out of his body.

    John instinctively fought back, his body releasing his aether in response. It was a futile act, his rational mind knew and tried to limit the damage. But his thoughts were growing sluggish, slower and slower with every second.

    His aether was pushed back with contemptuous ease, the icy energy advancing ever further along his channels. John already couldn''t feel most of his body anymore by the time it reached his head.

    It felt like he was floating in a sea of clouds, peacefully drifting about in its endless expanse. Here and there, through the occasional gap in between fluffy layers of white, he could see the lands below. It was a wild mesh of greens, looking very much like a forest.

    He gazed upon it, and for a brief infinity, John was truly at peace. There was no need to hide or fight or flee anymore. What was done was done. He''d done everything he could, but it had still come to this. It was time to face his fate.

    John basked in the indifference of the skies. Every breath he drew brought an understanding of the world at large with it. He was but a speck of dust, so short-lived and insignificant compared to even the fickle clouds that held sway over the life and death of everything below.

    Something faint stirred at the thought of eternal clouds, perhaps it was his previous flawed understanding of the world at large.

    It didn''t matter. All his knowledge didn''t matter. He was only a child, so very stupid and short-lived in comparison to the heavens.

    The stirring intensified at that, but he could already feel that his superior in every way, the great messenger of the skies, was withdrawing from his body and mind. Its energies left swift as a gale, and he felt saddened at the fact that his mind would have to revert to that of a simple mortal''s.

    John blinked when he realised that he was standing back on solid ground again.

    An irresistible feeling of nausea overwhelmed him in the next moment. He puked all over the ground.

    A calloused hand holding a cup of water appeared in his vision in the next moment. John wiped the tears and snot away and thanked the person, rinsing his mouth before spitting it back out.

    The boy looked up to thank his benefactor, but the next moment darkness crept into his vision. He wobbled, then fell.

    He was already out cold by the time two pairs of hands caught him.