《Control》 Before ¡°I AM NOT PLEASED.¡± The room is known as the Intimidater. Fitting, too. Guards stand around the perimeter, invisible in the shadows. Anasazi sits high on a giant throne. A single spotlight illuminates her. She watches me. My feet wobble under her stare. I curse myself for being so na?ve. ¡°I have failed. I have let you down.¡± My voice cracks. Part of the punishment is knowing perfectly well what¡¯s coming next. ¡°You have,¡± she whispers, ¡°Perhaps it¡¯s your treasures. It¡¯s weighing you down.¡± She extends one claw-like finger, stroking the red ruby on my uniform. I wince. It¡¯s the only precious stone I¡¯ve ever worn. She continues, enjoying her power. ¡°Ah, yes. It must be. I know what¡¯s going on, you know. I know about the jewel you hide at home. ¡°No!¡± I cry. I whap my mouth, realizing my mistake. I start to shake in fear. A slow smile spreads across her face. It reminds me of an earthworm, stretching and contracting. ¡°No? Really, now. That¡¯s not how you speak to me. Perhaps I should take that precious thing.¡± She tilted her head, ever so slightly. ¡°I could take it right now.¡± My eyes widen. I knew I would be punished, but not like this. ¡°I¡¯m sorry!¡±, I shout, ¡°Please! Give me another chance!¡±This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°Of course. Always up for another chance, aren¡¯t you? Well, let me think.¡± She makes a show of tapping her forehead. ¡°Aha! How¡¯s this: that jewel, or your life.¡± My eyes water. ¡°Please. Please. Anything else. Not this.¡± She shows no sign of emotion. ¡°Well, that won¡¯t do. Oh, well, I suppose I have been treating you too kindly. I guess I will have to do both.¡±I fall to my knees, begging, pleading, screaming. But she smiles as if I was just a kid crying for a lolly. She amuses herself by sharpening her nails, as five guards haul me away. I fight. I scream. I yell. I know it¡¯s all in vain. I know I¡¯m wasting my energy, showing how pathetic I really am. I know I¡¯m giving her what she wants: entertainment. But she¡¯s smart. She used a weapon other have never dreamed of. And that weapon gave her even more power than expected. ¡°I¡¯d like you to know, I hand pick executers,¡± she says, somewhere in the distance. Echoes of her voice trail after me. Jewel. Life. Execute. I lose my will to fight. I lay slack, crying like a baby. The guards drag me away, bloody and torn. I plead for the mercy they do not have. I am shut away in cold silence, feeling my life slowly ebb away. I curl up, saying one final prayer: ¡°Dear Lord, Please protect my jewel, even after my passing. Please let it believe, when there seems only room for doubt. Please give it light, in their darkest hour. Please fill its holes, should it be damaged. Please shield my heart from the secrets I store. And please give me warmth, until my last breath. Thank you, for the joy you have brought, the beauty you have sent, and the kind you have given. Amen.¡± Blitz BLITZ JUMPED, DUCKED, SLID, AND SLIPPED away from deadly, spiked logs. One might believe she was superhuman, but she wasn¡¯t. She was born to be a ninja, and fourteen years was expected to be long enough to perfect your skills. Blitz leapt over a suspended log, but not without scraping her boot. She took a split second to curse, which nearly cost her a life as shower of arrows rained down. Blitz narrowly escaped only to be met with a fire-breathing statue. She stumbled on with no time to recover, when seventy tons of boulders crashed in front of her, forming a tall wall. Great. Blitz tried to scale the rocks, but they had been baking in the sun. She recoiled from the hot surface, causing more stones to tumble. Blitz looked around for an escape route, but to both sides were spikes and behind was fire. Blitz was buried within a second, trying hard not to cry from the dust, weight, and heat. Footsteps crunched on the gravel. The face of Rhea, the commander, appeared. ¡°Two and a half minutes before failing, almost a personal record,¡± Rhea snarled. ¡°And now I have to get you another boot. That log was obviously a side-roll one. What were you thinking, jumping over it?¡± ¡°Um¡­maybe ¡®Ah! There is a deadly piece of wood blocking my way! I¡¯m about to crash into it and die! I think I can jump it, but will it work? I don¡¯t know, and I don¡¯t care, because this exceptionally long spike is about to skewer me!¡¯¡± Rhea turned her nose up. ¡°Idiot,¡± she said, turning on her heel and walking out. Apparently, that was all she could think to say. Rhea was known for her looks, not her mind. Truthfully, Blitz didn¡¯t see what was so beautiful about Rhea. All Blitz could see was a tiny brain, a giant EGO, and a mouth coated with of lipstick. Beauty in Blitz¡¯s world was rather useless, at least in Blitz¡¯s practical mind. To her, the most makeup can do is temporarily blind opponents with powder. Of course, you can also apply so much lotion or whatever that poison would be ineffective, but there¡¯s plenty of better and less slimy salves for that use. The ninja world doesn¡¯t have makeup anyway, but Rhea¡¯s spent so much time in the mortal world, the fashion is getting to her. It was around the time of the Major Recruiting that the uniform changed into a more ¡°stylish¡± suit (translation: an impractical, uncomfortable, and expensive suit whose main purpose is to be shiny). Blitz really didn¡¯t know how the human world worked, though it certainly seemed to have plenty of sparkling shiny things. Blitz didn¡¯t know how she got to the ninja world in the first place, and she didn¡¯t seem to have been born there. But Qwynn, her friend, had been born on the human world, and was personally recruited by Rhea at age four.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°I swear, everybody turned their heads when they saw her,¡± Qwynn had said. But when Blitz asked how she got in the ninja world, Qwynn started to mumble things like, ¡°It probably had to do with string theory and quantum chromodynamics and stuff.¡± But she never really said where she went. Or how she traveled. Blitz was really starting to doubt if Qwynn really remembered the recruiting at all. But that didn¡¯t matter right now, because Blitz was buried under a pile of rocks. Qwynn stood over her friend, laughing at the short exchange of words. ¡°You should have seen the look on Rhea¡¯s face! Aw, man. She¡¯s going to kill you, you know.¡± Blitz smiled awkwardly. ¡°Um, a little help here?¡± Qwynn stopped giggling. ¡°Right. Of course.¡± She wrapped her hand in her shirt and carefully lifted the boulders, one by one. When enough had been moved she reached for Blitz. ¡°Thanks,¡± Blitz said, dusting herself off. ¡°Don¡¯t mention it.¡± Qwynn plucked a pebble out of her hair. ¡°By the way, Rhea¡¯s the idiot. You know that, don¡¯t you?¡± Qwynn had a habit of saying things completely off topic. Blitz had gotten used to it, but she still hesitated a moment before replying. ¡°Well, she did get something right. That was a side-roll log. And I am the worst one in the first rank.¡± Qwynn opened her mouth to argue, but Blitz put a finger over her friend¡¯s mouth. ¡°Admit it. I am the worst one. You passed through the arena in less time I took to fail!¡± Qwynn knocked Blitz¡¯s finger from her lips. ¡°I¡¯m not going to argue. But you really overreact sometimes. And you are a first ranker.¡± This time it was Qwynn¡¯s turn to silence Blitz. ¡°C¡¯mon. Let¡¯s get out of this filthy arena.¡± They set off to the gladiator gates, chatting as they walked. Qwynn changed the subject. ¡°Did you hear about the attempted stealing? Happened right here, in the Kor.¡± This was not a surprise. The five tribes always stole from one another. ¡°Let me guess. Arth?¡± Qwynn shrugged. ¡°Probably. Couldn¡¯t get a good look at the ninja though. She ran too fast. Wonder what she was trying to take?¡± ¡°Likely just formation papers or a stronghold map. Maybe for revenge. Sliver stole from them last time, remember?¡± By now the two had arrived at the gates. At first glance, they looked like the last place someone would willingly enter. A jagged outline of a three-headed bird, each one consuming a human, was carved with alarming detail. Blitz marched through without hesitation, long used to the spectacle. Blitz and Qwynn entered a cold, stone corridor, lit by old-fashion torches. The immediately stopped talking. The stone had an eerie effect of echoing everything by a thousand times. Their boots clicked loudly on the floor. Their next class was weaponry, where they fought surprisingly-hi tech VR versions of ninjas, swiping and killing as many as possible. Blitz had only been involved in one real war, but the VR came close enough. If you died in VR, well, you¡¯ll be as good as dead in real life. The two were almost at the doorway when something stopped them. Few things can stop two ninjas, if you think about it. Even fewer can make their blood run cold. But there is one universal way of sending pure terror into anyone¡¯s veins. That thing is a scream. Blitz and Qwynn needed only a glance at each other they sprinted off in the direction of the scream, praying that they weren¡¯t running into their deaths. Special QWYNN STILL REMEMBERED the very first day Blitz had been introduced. She had just been promoted to an eleven-ranker, and she was quick turn her nose up at all those twelve rankers who still wore a plain, black suit. Qwynn now had a polished badge, and a knife. A real knife! Then a new ninja arrived, with a horrible head injury. The rumors started. She was no more than four, yet had she already been in a battle? One of the craziest stories involved her being a spy for the Kor, expecting the Arth to take a child less seriously. But none really believed the tale. Spies were always first-rankers. And this child hadn¡¯t even reached the height to be a twelfth-ranker. Qwynn decided to continue her superiority act, assuming this child was still, at best, a lowly twelfth-ranker. But when Qwynn entered her first class, the history of Kor, she saw the child sitting in the far corner, slouching lazily and doodling in her book. Everyone stared at her, there was no denying it. The little thing raised her head to look at Qwynn, read something on her face, then sighed and continued her drawing. Finally, the teacher arrived late, as usual. She started immediately, talking about the rise of the BlackWing Squad. Two sentences in, she realized that the class simply wasn¡¯t listening. She swiveled her head around determined to find the root of the problem. It didn¡¯t take long to realize everyone was whispering about the mysterious origins of the new kid. The new kid, however, was drawing and not paying attention. Perfect. ¡°Ms. Blitz, may I ask why, exactly, are you drawing?¡± Blitz looked up solemnly. ¡°I¡¯m drawing a clock, ma¡¯am. Very much like the one I believe you have on your wrist. I think that¡¯s the purpose of it, right.¡± The teacher pursed her lips. ¡°That is no reason to vandalize Kor property.¡± ¡°There is no reason to arrive late.¡± A snicker arouses from the students. The teacher had enough sense to stop the conversation if she wanted to maintain her high position of authority. ¡°Pay attention. Now. And you¡¯ll staying inside during break.¡± Blitz sighed. ¡°Yes.¡± The teacher waited for the appropriate title. ¡°Woman.¡± The class burst out laughing. Qwynn looked at Blitz, eyes wide. No one had ever disrespected someone at a higher authority. And here comes a four-year old, laughing at a teacher right in the face. The teacher stood up, red in the cheeks. She marched up to Blitz and held her by the scruff of her collar. To everyone¡¯s greatest surprise, the child smiled wide, showing a missing front tooth. From the ragged flesh at the bottom, Qwynn guessed it had been knocked out by force. The teacher marched her out of the room, probably to yell, but it wouldn¡¯t change anything. Most of the class was now looking at Blitz with more respect than they ever gave the teacher. Later that day, the commander herself walked into the lunchroom to talk to Blitz. The room went quiet. It was a great honor to have the commander come. She rarely visited anyone below second rank. And now she was visiting a tiny, rude, eleventh-ranker. But Blitz didn¡¯t even give Rhea a second look. She even whined, ¡°Must I?¡± when requested follow the commander. Rhea ended up dragging a grinning child to her office, and the child waved unhelpfully at the stunned eleventh rankers as she passed, looking like open-mouthed fish. Qwynn could feel her own gaping mouth and bulging eyes.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Blitz returned after dinner, during free-training time. She walked around, clutching a map in her hands. Qwynn had learned to be tentative when a newcomer was introduced. Offering help too quickly would make her a target as well. She stayed far away, staring at Blitz. Blitz didn¡¯t seem to mind. She wove around other towering ninjas, who were all studying, laughing, fighting, and staring. She stumbled into a training room with dummies and a punching bag. The floor was covered with a green mat, though it was of little use. No one took off their shoes when they came into the room, and the mat was nowhere soft enough to break a fall. The room smelled like a new car with a ting of lemon. Bright lights compensated for the lack of windows. It would be easy to lose track of time in this room. Qwynn was relieved to find that she wasn¡¯t the only person following Blitz, as a mob of children came after, pretending not to follow. Fatalty was training in the room. She always was. Most ninjas liked training in obstacle courses, but Fatalty liked throwing punches. The room was built as a dojo the size of a basketball court. It didn¡¯t take long for Fatalty to locate Blitz. Usually the first-day-punching was anticipated on day three or four. It¡¯s hard to corner someone who avoids being seen. However, if an unsuspecting ninja, such as Blitz, triggered it early and under the right conditions, Fatalty wouldn¡¯t miss the chance. Several ninjas cowered back, painful memories coming back to them. But most pressed on, wondering what the little ninja would do. The first-day-punching was a great way to know someone. Flick had punched back, but she was too skinny and frail to do much damage. Zin and Arti had fell limp. Qwynn and most others tried to run or defend, but Fatalty always managed to catch them. Fatalty wasn¡¯t the only bully. Lucifay didn¡¯t have the best reputation, and neither did Draka. They didn¡¯t form a bully posse, but they did have a mutual understanding. Lucifay and Draka never interfered when Fatalty punched her victims, so Fatalty stayed away from theirs. Blitz looked around the room, as if assessing the situation. Qwynn guessed she was going to run, but Blitz was too short and too little to run far. Fatalty threw her gloves aside, preferring to go bare-knuckled. She moved slowly, deliberately. Blitz looked Fatalty up and down. To everyone¡¯s surprise, Blitz positioned herself in a sort of pose. Her left leg was anchored in front, and her right leg was giving her support from behind, twisted into a ninety-degree angle. He hands were curled into fists, her right hand slightly behind her left. The corner of her mouth lifted into a relaxed smile. Slowly, she extended an index finger, waving it. Bring it on. Fatalty charged. Blitz leapt, flipping for show as she ricocheted off a wobbling dummy with a rounded base. Blitz was light enough to prevent it from falling back, but the dummy sprang forward, and Fatalty not reacting fast enough to step aside. The dummy slammed into Fatalty¡¯s forehead, a dull thud echoing through the room. A bruise would form. Some cheered on, but other stayed silent, afraid of the consequences. If Fatalty won, those who cheered wouldn¡¯t meet a happy ending. Blitz shimmied up a particularly tall Makiwara, a karate training post. On there, she could leap onto the top of a thick kick bag, steadying herself on the chain. Fatalty kicked the bag, but Blitz was long gone. She flipped in mid-air, catching a beam on the ceiling. Everyone held their breath. She couldn¡¯t stay on the ceiling forever, but letting go would be suicide. Blitz seemed to have noticed it too, but she didn¡¯t panic. Blitz started swinging back and forth like a pendulum. She launched herself forward, aiming at the training pads. Qwynn held her breath. Blitz flipped, her head now leading. Landed on the pile, and Qwynn heard sighs of relief. Fatalty lumbered over. Blitz regained her stance. Fatalty punched, but Blitz ducked. She punched again, at the midsection. Blitz blocked with a pad. Blitz seemed to have realized she didn¡¯t have the strength to throw a strong punch, not without momentum. So she blocked. Fatalty was getting desperate, kicking instead. She stretched her leg up for a roundhouse kick, but Blitz wasn¡¯t there. She looked down, to see Blitz squatting. Her short leg swept under Fatalty, who was balance precariously on one foot. Fatalty wobbled, her hand trying to break the fall. But all was in vain. She fell back squarely on the back of her head. Blitz stood up, brushing herself off. She wasn¡¯t sweating, but her cheeks were red. She looked at the gathered crowd. Some tenth rankers joined in as well. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll call that a successful training session.¡± Then the clapping began. Qwynn was clapping along, stunned. Qwynn wondered why Blitz was an eleventh-ranker. She was at least a ninth ranker, being able to flip and, most importantly, think in midair. From that point on, Fatalty started training in obstacle courses. Obriskrity I KNOW BLITZ. That¡¯s what Rhea would say to anyone who¡¯d listen. Rhea¡¯s known Blitz before the girl even knew herself. Rhea was no idiot. She knew Blitz hated her (not that Blitz really gave an effort to hide it.) But considering how useful Rhea had been, was she wrong to expect a little more appreciation? Rhea descended the stone steps, walking right into the gladiater pits. These cells used to contain all sorts of ninjas from all sorts of tribes. The best fights were when Arths were condemned to fight one of their own. Unfortunately, that led to the Katana War, one of the most devastating wars the Kor ever fought, which resulted in the Kor population shrinking to only a fraction of its original numbers. The Kor territory also decreased by half, making it the smallest tribe yet. So they¡¯ve resorted to technology. They had gravity forces and invisible triggers all over the outside walls. The Tesak or Lisica would be circling them. It was in their nature to strike when their prey is at its weakest. The Kor needed to slowly recover from their battle injury without danger. Now, however, their protection needed an upgrade. It was a disgrace to see arrival ninja come in and out without a scratch. What enraged Rhea was that this tribe was mocking them. None of their documents have been taken. A scout. If this kept up, the Kor would collapse in no time. Rhea had tried to make the stealing sound innocuous, when it was the complete opposite. Their best techie, who was perhaps the only person who could program the defenses, had died, which comes back to the reason why Rhea was visiting the pits in the first place. Today the pits were turned into a prison, run by guards who were failed ninjas, too slow or dumb to promote. To avoid a catastrophe, Rhea made sure these guards got some of the best services. The dumbest can be the most destructive. The ninja guards bowed at Rhea¡¯s arrival. Their heads lowered at different angles, their timing was horrible, and their uniforms hung down in a horrible mess. At least they show a sort of respect, Rhea thought, unlike some people I know.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. Rhea marched on, aiming towards the end of the corridor where the windowless stone cells resided, which were once reserved for the most insane gladiators. Air was let in through tiny holes in the ceiling. Food came from a tube in the wall. The toilet was a hole. The bed was a ledge. Rhea turned to the fourth door. The number 847 was lightly etched into the stone. She took a deep breath, produced a single key, and entered. ¡°Rhea. I was hoping I could die in peace.¡± ¡°The feeling is mutual, Obriskrity.¡± Obriskrity¡¯s room was the only one that did not reek of human feces. Somehow, she had managed to make the bland room seem nearly¡­comfortable. ¡°I see you have been making yourself at home,¡± Rhea commented. Obriskrity gave her a wry smile. ¡°As much as I can. I¡¯ll never know what home really is.¡± Though the two were seemingly calm, a tense electricity was in the room. Rhea stood silent, unsure of what to say. Obriskrity looked calm, as if waiting for her opponent to make the first move. Finally Rhea asked, ¡°Have you been well?¡± ¡°You call this well?¡± the prisoner waved her hand at the space around her. ¡°Really, sometimes I can¡¯t tell if you are joking or not.¡± ¡°You¡¯re well enough. Alive, at the very least. You owe me that.¡± ¡°Truthfully, I¡¯d rather be dead.¡± Rhea laughed a horrible, short laugh. ¡°Well, you can always commit suicide.¡± Obriskrity look Rhea in the eye. ¡°You know I can¡¯t do that.¡± ¡°Really?¡± Rhea said this in a mocking tone, but she knew the answer. ¡°Don¡¯t pretend.¡± Rhea sighed, all sense of purpose draining out of her. ¡°Well, have a nice life.¡± She made a move to leave. But Obriskrity did not stop her. She still sat on the floor with a placid smile. ¡°Well, why aren¡¯t you going?¡± she asked innocently. ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to stop me?¡± ¡°No. Because I know you can¡¯t leave. I know you are in trouble. I know you came to make me an offer.¡± Rhea turned around. ¡°Really. And how exactly do you know that, Obriskrity?¡± The prisoner laughed¡ªlaugh that sounded like a dolphin¡¯s squeal, twenty times magnified in the acoustic room. ¡°Please stop. Stop with the ¡®Obriskrity this, Obriskrity that¡¯. Admit it. You¡¯ve come to seek your big sister¡¯s help.¡± Death BLOOD POUNDED IN HER EARS as Blitz raced after Qwynn. They ran as fast as they could, hoping they¡¯d get there in time. The scream had stopped, which usually meant something good or something very, very, bad. It¡¯s sort of funny how, in the arena, they usually ran with obstacles. Now, Qwynn and Blitz found themselves in much more practical situation. For the first time, they might need to use their abilities, but they couldn¡¯t because they weren¡¯t yet trained in running in general. It¡¯s not that they weren¡¯t fast. They were speedsters, all right. But maybe not as fast as one may expect a fully trained, first rank ninja to be. It felt so unnatural to be running without having to duck or scale a wall. Blitz looked at Qwynn and there seemed to an unspoken agreement that whoever stopped or slowed would be a weakling, a coward in the face of danger. Not that I¡¯m not the weakling already, Blitz thought absentmindedly. She pushed the thought in the far corner of her brain, so she could focus on running and just running. Suddenly, Qwynn stopped. Had she given up? No. Qwynn never gives up. Blitz gripped her friend¡¯s shoulder firmly, leading her to the side so Blitz could get a better view. To her surprise, Qwynn¡¯s face was completely white. Blitz looked down, and immediately wished she didn¡¯t. A ninja lay dead on the corridor. Next to her was a seventh-ranker, as evident from the badge she wore proudly on her chest. The seventh-ranker seemed to only have fainted. Blitz urged her friend to check the pulse if the seventh ranker, while Blitz kneeled next to the dead ninja. Qwynn gulped with determination and bent down professionally. Blitz gripped the ninja¡¯s hand, trying in vain to find a beat, but eventually let go. Her body was still warm. My god. She must¡¯ve died a few minutes ago. Blitz pried her eyes away from the gruesome sight. She looked at Qwynn, who was gaining the color back in her face. ¡°She¡¯s only fainted. It¡¯s alright.¡± Blitz nodded, acting brave. ¡°Must¡¯ve been from shock.¡± Qwynn looked up. ¡°She¡¯s¡ª¡±Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°Dead.¡± The two sat in silence, processing all they¡¯d just seen. Finally, Qwynn stood up, patted herself clean, and decided to act professional. ¡°Okay. Okay. Let¡¯s go.¡± Blitz looked at Qwynn in shock. ¡°Where?¡± ¡°To class. Come on,¡± Qwynn said impatiently. ¡°Class? After all this?¡± ¡°Well,¡± Qwynn said, as if everything was obvious, ¡°We have to tell someone about this.¡± ¡°But shouldn¡¯t I stay?¡± Blitz glanced at the two bodies. ¡°Someone has to look after them. It¡¯s in the rulebook.¡± ¡°And you¡¯ve never broke the rules?¡± Qwynn shot back. ¡°Qwynn, you¡¯re being a little edgy,¡± Blitz was hesitant. Her friend wasn¡¯t herself. Qwynn snorted. ¡°Oh, yeah. I just saw a dead body. In a corridor. After I heard a scream. Yeah, just something you see everyday. Nothing to be nervous about.¡± ¡°Still, I really should stay behind. You go get help.¡± Blitz didn¡¯t like any of this. She didn¡¯t want to argue with Qwynn in this situation, but leaving bodies out in the open was something all ninja were trained not to do. ¡°Look,¡± Qwynn was getting frustrated, ¡°It¡¯s not going to work if you keep arguing. This attacker, she¡¯s killed our people. For all I know, she¡¯s still somewhere right around the corner. I¡¯m not sure I can fight off this assassin, a prepared assassin, may I add, by myself. And neither can you.¡± ¡°Qwynn¡­¡± ¡°Oh, stop whining,¡± Qwynn snapped. ¡°I¡¯m leaving.¡± Qwynn began marching to the end of the corridor. Blitz shot one last look at the two ninjas, before rising up. She trailed behind. Something was wrong, besides, of course, the fact that there was someone dead. Blitz had an urge to go back to the scene, but Qwynn made sure that wouldn¡¯t happen. Besides, it was only a hunch, and most of Blitz¡¯s hunches weren¡¯t right. She continued after Qwynn, a forcing down the growing urge to run back. Eventually, they arrived at a door made of solid bronze. It was like the many that lined the corridor. Qwynn knocked on the door, three times. The teacher, a strict, twenty something woman, opened the door with a glare. Qwynn didn¡¯t wince. ¡°May we come in?¡± ¡°You¡¯d better.¡± Blitz and Qwynn walked in the room, their classmates all hooked up to the VR system and not noticing the disruption. The teacher hurried straight to Rhea, who was, as expected, glowering at them. ¡°You see, ma¡¯am, they were late. The last one is probably late also.¡± Rhea looked at them, daring them to speak. ¡°There was a killing,¡± Blitz blurted. Rhea stopped dead. ¡°Bear claw scratches all over the face, then a plunge in the heart,¡± Qwynn added, sounding surprisingly composed. ¡°Bear claw. Arth.¡± ¡°Yes¡ª¡± Blitz cut in. ¡°For the papers. It must be.¡± ¡°Well¡ª¡± ¡°That¡¯s where they were last time. Planting fear into the Kor heart.¡± ¡°Rhea,¡± Blitz said more firmly, ¡°It was Sliver. And she¡¯s been dead for less than an hour.¡± Sliver ¡°RHEA MADE ME THEIF AGAIN.¡± Sliver collapsed on Cyra, who waited outside Rhea¡¯s office. Sliver was used to be called in early, and she was grateful Cyra, though not an early bird herself, managed to drag herself up to accompany her. Only Cyra knew how bad Sliver felt. Sliver was the best thief the Kor had, but that wasn¡¯t saying much. Sliver would have been a nothing if they still had ninety-six first-rankers instead of the mere seven they were left with right now. Not only had the war cost many lives, it had ruined the lives it spared. Cyra patted Sliver¡¯s back, attempting to calm her. Cyra was the sharp-eyed ninja. This was a great plus when it came to invading enemy territory, but unfortunately, she wastes most of her gift on gossip. The second they met, Cyra informed Sliver that Fatalty always had broccoli in her teeth, Lucifay spits when she talks, and Rino is just plain gross. Thankfully, Cyra had never let one of Sliver¡¯s secret fly¡ªat least not yet. She was holding her secrets hostage should Sliver every ditch her. ¡°What did she ask you to steal?¡± ¡°I can¡¯t tell you that!¡± ¡°One can always hope.¡± Cyra shrugged, then gave her a sly look. ¡°So, about that stealing?¡± Sliver sighed. Cyra was a pain in the butt whenever she wants information. ¡°You know, sometimes I wonder why I¡¯m still your friend.¡± ¡°Sometimes I wonder why you won¡¯t tell me what you¡¯re stealing!¡± Sliver waved the question aside. ¡°Oh, you know. The usual. Same as last time.¡± Cyra actually knew what that meant. ¡°From the Arth?¡± ¡°Yep.¡± ¡°When?¡± ¡°Tonight.¡± ¡°Ah. Better get ready. Want me to come with you?¡± ¡°Would my answer really matter?¡± Cyra smiled. ¡°No.¡± They set off toward the atrium. It used to have been a beautiful place. Triangles of glass approximated a sphere quarter. A giant plant wall housed dozens of potentially deadly plants and roots. This used to be a go-to spot for lunch or studying. Now the glass has been covered by a foot of iron. Florescent lights have been set clumsily into the ceiling. The plants withered and died. This was most of the Kor. As they walked, they passed corridors of doors, each one more joyless than the last. They almost made you want to shy away from them. These doors used to be painted and personalized by whoever lived in the dorm behind it. Now, when you look inside, you¡¯ll see an abandoned bed. Some of the worst dorms still had their blankets tousled, books thrown carelessly on the ground, a shadow of what once had been. Sliver and Cyra continued, staring at the ground which was more inviting than the doors. First stop was weaponry. Cyra would never miss this. Sliver went to look at the swords, while Cyra gushed over the different types of guns. ¡°Sliver! OMG! Check out this .50 Caliber Muzzleloader! C¡¯mon Sliver! This has 26-inch barrel!¡± Cyra shouldered the rifle, aiming it at the wall. She did a few pretend shots, yelling, ¡°BAM! BAM!¡± Sliver watched in amusement. ¡°You seem to be forgetting I¡¯ll be shooting in complete darkness.¡± Cyra¡¯s shoulders slumped as she put the weapon back. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll just be here, watching you pick out boring swords that barely¡ªHOLY SHIT!¡± Cyra grabbed a black gun, holding it as one might hold a baby. ¡°This is a TrackingPoint 7.62 Semi-Automatic NightDragon Rifle! Total TTK 2.5 seconds! You¡¯ve got to use this!¡± Sliver was still fingering a seven-pointed shuriken. ¡°TTK?¡± ¡°Time-To-Kill.¡± Sliver turned around, immediately wishing she hadn¡¯t. Her friend looked up with hopeful eyes, but Sliver knew she had to turn it down. ¡°Cyra, how the hell am I supposed to carry that monster around?¡± Cyra looked hurt. ¡°It¡¯s not that big.¡± ¡°Yes, it is.¡± Sliver knew it was time to wrap it up, before Cyra starts getting any other ideas. ¡°I¡¯ll take a few of these shuriken, and these two Chinese Hook Swords. We¡¯re leaving. Come on.¡± Cyra stomped after her. ¡°C¡¯mon. You¡¯re going into Arth territory with a some frisbees and two sharp sticks?¡± Sliver sighed. ¡°I have my Neko Te and Kunais in my dorm. I¡¯ll see if I can carry a can of Metsubishi.¡± ¡°Yeah. Like Nemo blah blah blah is any better than a TrackingPoint.¡± Cyra was going to regrets saying that, because Sliver launched into a lecture about the different types of ninja weapons. ¡°Not Nemo, Neko Te. They¡¯re metal gloves with claws filled with poison, used for close combat. Kunais are throwing knives, which could also be dipped in poison. Metsubishi is a spray that blinds nearby ninjas. Of course, I would have brought a Kusarigama, which is a¡ª¡± ¡°Sliver,¡± Cyra said, putting a hand on her friend¡¯s shoulder, ¡°I know. I took the same classes.¡± ¡°Well, I took the same classes on guns. Yet somehow I can do nothing to shut you up.¡±This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°I¡¯m not shutting you up, I¡¯m telling you that the armory is the other way.¡± Cyra pointed in the opposite direction. Sliver felt her cheeks go red. ¡°The-The Tunnels are a confusing place,¡± she stammered. Cyra smirked. ¡°Uh-huh.¡± Once in the armory, Sliver picked out her usual ninja outfit, but made with dragon silk. ¡°I wish Rhea would get spider silk. I mean, if she can use the real thing to make a scimitar, why doesn¡¯t she use it for clothes?¡± ¡°Cheaper.¡± Cyra was right. Or, at least, she would be right if they lived in the mortal world. But here, things were different. There was no such thing as ¡°money¡± in their lives. And frankly, Sliver, who had been brought to the ninja world when she was two, still had to wrap her mind around the idea that you needed to use paper to trade for things. Cyra had been brought at the age of seven. Sometimes, she¡¯d have these mental lapses and she¡¯ll start talking about money or hula hoops. ¡°You see,¡± Cyra once said, attempting the explain the concept of wealth, ¡°The more money you have, the more things you can buy. The more things you have, the wealthier you are.¡± ¡°Why do you need to buy things? Can¡¯t you make them?¡± ¡°Well, if you wanted to eat, you¡¯ll have to buy food.¡± ¡°Why? We grow food.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll need to buy land to raise or grow your food.¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t that silly? You fight for land.¡± Sliver was positively giggling. The mortal world sounded so weird. ¡°Fighting costs lives.¡± ¡°What doesn¡¯t?¡± Cyra was getting exasperated. On one hand, she wanted to defend her birth place. On the other hand, Sliver was making an awful lot of sense. ¡°Well, ok. Bad example. If, for instance, the Tesak had something you wanted, what do you do? You have to buy¡ª¡± ¡°I steal it.¡± ¡°No, no, no. Stealing is wrong.¡± ¡°You do it. I do it. If everyone does it, how is it wrong?¡± ¡°Two wrongs don¡¯t make a right.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t go off on your mumble-jumble. If everyone does something wrong, and you do something right, doesn¡¯t that mean everyone is right and you are wrong?¡± Cyra thought about this. But the more she thought, the less sense it made. Finally, she threw her hands in the air. ¡°Forget it! You¡¯ll never understand.¡± Sliver crossed her arms. ¡°If your world made just slightly more sense¡ª¡± That led to a very long, very angry argument about whose world was better. They arrived at the conclusion that neither world was greater than the other. Both were full of people killing each other for random things they couldn¡¯t control. Like race, class, intelligence, and land. Right now, though Sliver still didn¡¯t understand money, she let the issue drop. ¡°Whatever. I¡¯m heading to the dorms to drop this off. Meet you at the arena.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll tell Rhea you¡¯re getting ready.¡± ¡°You¡¯re the best!¡± Sliver hurried back to her dorm. She and Cyra were a kind of roommates. They shared a living room. It included a comfy couch and a TV set, where Cyra watched screechy, big-eyed, purple-haired, human-like, skinny, animated girls run across the screen. The room was clean enough, mainly for Sliver¡¯s sake. Past the living room were two different worlds. Cyra¡¯s bedroom was a complete trash can. Clothes, swords, guns, books, magazines, and pillows littered every foot of the space. On Sliver¡¯s side was the complete opposite. It was way too clean. There was barely any furniture. Her rooms contained a total of three chairs, two bookshelves, one wardrobe, one bedside cabinet, and one bed. Sliver had no desired for mundane things such as a couch. It just took up too much space. Sliver made her way to her bedroom and carefully hung the swords on a small hook, placing the shuriken in a bowl underneath. In her wardrobe were her other weapons, and Sliver readied them by oiling and poisoning them. She would have gone faster, but this was a delicate process and Sliver trusted Cyra to deliver the message. Finally, Sliver was satisfied with her work. It was nearly the beginning of her weaponry class, so she dressed herself in her normal, comfy arena boots, and set off. It took her years to finally be comfortable in the dank corridors. Even now, as a first-ranker, Sliver felt herself holding her breath as she descended the flights of stairs. When her feet touched the bottom floor, she broke into a jog, her toes skimming silently on the stone, something no one else could accomplish. Click. Click Click. Someone else was here. Sliver slowed down, wondering if it was Blitz, who was usually late. She turned the corner, only to see a scared-looking seventh-ranker walking uncertainly in the corridors. It was odd to have a seventh-ranker in the corridors. But every now and then, someone stumbles upon this place. The seventh-ranker was old for her ranking, but it wasn¡¯t all too uncommon. A lot of ninjas hit a block at the fifth rank and spend years before moving up. ¡°Hello. Are you lost? This is a first-ranker corridor.¡± The ninja nodded shakily. ¡°D-do you know where the seventh-ranker c-corridor is?¡± Sliver felt a pang of sympathy. ¡°It¡¯s up two flights,¡± Sliver said, pointing to the stairs, ¡°Don¡¯t worry. It took years for me to know my way around too. The ninja smiled gratefully. ¡°Thank you.¡± Sliver watched the ninja walk off, catching a brief a blur of movement. Something slashed her face before she had time to react. Blood dripped down her nose. Wha- Something slashed again. This time Sliver felt pain. Reality crashed on her. I¡¯m being attacked! Sliver launched into a defensive maneuver, which brought her to realize her opponent was no less than a quality first-ranker. The attacker weaved in and out, each move executed with perfection. Unlike the overly dramatic moves of a novice, hers was simple, sharp, and to the point. Normally, Sliver would be able to narrowly hold off. But she had made an amateur mistake. She had given her opponent the most powerful advantage of all. She was taken by surprise Now, weak and in pain, Sliver could barely dodge the incoming attacks. She felt her body struggle. Her opponent kicked her in the head, while balancing herself on a spear, though Sliver couldn¡¯t be sure. It was all a flash of clothing. Sliver stumbled back, attempting a kick of her own. Her opponent caught it with her hands, twisting Sliver over. Sliver just managed to break the fall. Her opponent fell back, but easily regained her posture with a simple front flip. Sliver hadn¡¯t enough energy to do the same. She scrambled up as best as she could, wiping blood and sweat off her face. It was at this moment that Sliver realized that there was no one else who could be attacking her than¡­the seventh-ranker. Or, at least, whoever could be the seventh-ranker in disguise. Sliver would have been annoyed at herself for not seeing this earlier, but between punching and being punched, she could only keep up but concentrating. And by realizing the attacker was the seventh ranker, she had paused for a split second. This one pause was all the seventh-ranker needed to end Sliver¡¯s life. The seventh-ranker thrust a series of punches, before faking another punch but ducking away. Sliver was tricked, leaving her midsection undefended. The spear slashed stomach. Sliver fell back, clutching ribs, blood pouring out of her wound, soaking through her uniform. Finally, the seventh-ranker came clear into view. In her hand was a bear claw. Sliver¡¯s eyes widened. Then she was hit with the biggest surprise of all. Execution THE CLAW PLUNGED INTO THE victim¡¯s heart. She waited several minutes to ensure the victim was not going to move. Then she carefully wiped her hands on the victim¡¯s clothes, satisfied with her work. Footsteps echoed in the corridor. She continued her work, unfazed. Everything had been planned and considered. She loved this corridor. How convenient it was, to have a place with great acoustics that powerful people walk through daily. She corked a small vial of the victim¡¯s blood, and pocketed it. Then she laid down beside the victim. She took a deep breath and let out a loud scream. The footsteps stopped. She smiled. How easy it was to have something go smoothly. She had been practicing the art of fainting, perfecting it to the last detail. Her limbs were positioned naturally, yet in such it way it would be easy to leap into a fight. One hand closed around another bear claw. The other gripped her pistol. The footsteps quickened, coming for her. She calmed her pounding heart, reminding herself that the mission was not yet complete. She closed her eyes, activating all her other senses. It¡¯s a wonder why so many forget about their sense of smell, she thought with amusement, they¡¯re missing out on something beautiful. They arrived. She waited a painfully long second, until someone leaned over her. She felt the person¡¯s hot breath on her face. It smelled faintly of mint, with a citrus twist. Someone pressed two fingers on her wrist, checking her pulse. Finally, the person let go.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°She¡¯s only fainted. It¡¯s alright.¡± This came directly above her. The same person who had been checking her pulse. She was undoubtfully female. ¡°Must¡¯ve been from the shock of seeing the other.¡± This was a second voice, deeper, but still feminine. ¡°She¡¯s¡ª¡± ¡°Dead.¡± She willed herself not to smile. She won¡¯t let her joy destroy everything she¡¯s done. But that short exchange of words could only mean one thing. She had done her job correctly. ¡°Okay. Okay. Let¡¯s go,¡± The first girl said. ¡°Where?¡± Bewilderment was buried in the words. ¡°To class. Come on.¡± ¡°Class? After all this?¡± ¡°Well, we have to tell someone about this.¡± Yes. Leave. She thought. ¡°But shouldn¡¯t I stay? Someone has to look after them. It¡¯s in the rulebook.¡± You won¡¯t be able to look after me. She gripped her weapons. She didn¡¯t want to use them just yet, but some circumstances call for action. ¡°And you¡¯ve never broke the rules?¡± ¡°Qwynn, you¡¯re being a little edgy.¡± Qwynn? ¡°Oh, yeah. I just saw a dead body. In a corridor. After I heard a scream. Yeah, just something you see every day. Nothing to be nervous about,¡± the first girl, ¡°Qwynn¡± said. ¡°Still, I really should stay behind. You go get help¡± ¡°Look, it¡¯s not going to work if you keep arguing. This attacker, she¡¯s killed our people. For all I know, she¡¯s still somewhere right around the corner. I¡¯m not sure I can fight off this assassin, a prepared assassin, may I add, by myself. And neither can you.¡± ¡°Qwynn¡­¡± ¡°Oh, stop whining. I¡¯m leaving.¡± Someone walked away, presumably Qwynn. She could still sense someone else hovering around her, but soon a second pair of footsteps joined the first. She strained her ears for the echoes of the receding footsteps. Soon, it was silent once more. She sprang up. In ten minutes she was outside, fanning wind on her sweaty face. The air smelled of wet earth from a light shower. She beamed, enjoying her success. As she was soon to learn, that was the worst mistake she could have made. Truth Cyra and Silver were the closest of friends in the Kor. True, that wasn¡¯t so hard to beat since most ¡°friendships¡± were highly competitive ones. Blitz and Qwynn would never miss a chance to spar off each other. Cyra wouldn¡¯t be surprised if Blitz secretly celebrated after successfully placed Qwynn in the hospital with a wound in the head. Cyra and Silver wasn¡¯t like that. They mostly just argued about the ninja and the mortal worlds. Cyra rarely won, but it was fun. One time they were talking about weapons. ¡°You ninjas have all sort of fancy things to kill,¡± Cyra had mentioned casually, ¡°yet it seems that the majority of these guns are from the mortal world, and guns happen to be the most efficient of weapons.¡± ¡°But what¡¯s the point of guns? After a few shots, you¡¯re out of ammo. At least swords last,¡± Sliver replied. ¡°Yet they are nowhere as accurate as a bullet.¡± ¡°Yet mere armor can stop a bullet.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t armor stop everything?¡± Sliver sighed, as if it were obvious. ¡°Not gas. Heck, even pepper spray can defeat armor. Acid too.¡± ¡°Fine. But guns are better in surprise attacks.¡± ¡°Poison is way better. Slip it in the food, and no one will know.¡± ¡°That takes way more energy than guns.¡± ¡°Guns are loud, and the bullet is left as evidence. You can¡¯t get away with it. Even with a silencer, the most you can kill is four, maybe five people before someone eventually notices. By then, you¡¯ll have to fight someone fully prepared to kill.¡± ¡°But¡ª¡± This, like many other arguments, ended in a win for the ninja world. But Cyra was happy. She wanted the ninja world to win. She wanted to prove that the place she was living in is better than the place she left. Most didn¡¯t have to deal with this. They already forgotten what they had left behind. But not Cyra. Cyra had been recruited when she was seven years old. This was uncommon for a ninja. Most were brought in early. And that had been the plan. Cyra¡¯s aunt had died when she was six. That had seemed to be the problem. Before that, her parents were relatively normal. They did not like Cyra, though they didn¡¯t hate her. Cyra was left by herself most of the day. Ralli, her sister, was three and was sent to daycare. Apparently Cyra¡¯s education was too expensive. But after her aunt died, everything changed. Her aunt had been in an earthquake, her body undiscovered for eight days. Cyra didn¡¯t know if her parents had been close to her aunt, though it certainly did not seem so. They were disgruntled when the funeral letter arrived and only went on the slight chance something was left for them in the will. There was nothing. Yet barely a day later, their attitude towards Cyra changed dramatically. Even Ralli was affected. Happy, fun, cheery Ralli glared somewhat coldly at Cyra. Cyra was barely let out of the house, being locked in a bathroom¡ªa makeshift bedroom¡ªwith the company of books and a cold, but nonetheless comforting, Ralli. Cyra would listen to Ralli ramble on about her friends and who did what. She¡¯d wait for Ralli to bring her food and water, and a new book. Cyra relied on Ralli with her life. So the day Ralli was taken, Cyra sprang to action. Her parents were acting weird. It wasn¡¯t that they looked drunk, which they usually were, but they didn¡¯t fight Rhea, who led Ralli away. Cyra watched them leave, assuming Rhea was some sort of mom or teacher. But they followed no obvious road, and when Cyra saw Ralli¡¯s own drunk-looking face, she knew something wasn¡¯t quite right.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Cyra broke out of the bathroom, shimmying down a pipe. Ralli and Rhea hadn¡¯t noticed her. Afterall, Cyra usually was the one who noticed things. Cyra followed them for a while, unsure when to stop. They had walked through the backyard, onto a dirt trail amid a dark forest, that later converged to be part of the town park. Cyra watched them disappear into the thick woods, Cyra following close behind. But by that time, they were gone. Cyra stayed in the woods for over a week. For a seven-year-old, this was brave. But Cyra found herself happier in the woods than at home, and she had a fleeting suspicion that the parents thought so too. Cyra found it easy to locate edible plants, mainly dandelions and buttercups, from the many books she had read. But she couldn¡¯t stay forever. She had a goal. On the eighth night, it rained. Cyra was soaked. When morning came, she was on the verge of hypothermia. This was the end. The little adventure had stopped. Cyra readied herself to head back home, dreading to see her parent¡¯s faces. But as she started trekking back, she heard something. Her head whipped back, half expecting a squirrel. But a flash of metal caught her eye. The cold of the rain and the overwhelming scent of pine woke her up. Cyra squinted. It was Rhea. Cyra ran up to her, and flung her body at the commander, wrapping her arms around Rhea¡¯s neck. Rhea gagged. ¡°Where¡¯s my sister?¡± Cyra demanded. ¡°Who?¡± Rhea shot back, regaining her breath. ¡°My sister!¡± Cyra repeated, ¡°the girl you kidnapped.¡± Rhea processed this, calling up a memory of the girl. ¡°Oh, her, I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t tell you.¡± Cyra screamed, ¡°Give her back!¡± Rhea stood rigid, her eyes scanning the surroundings. ¡°Don¡¯t yell! Do you have any idea what they¡¯re going to do?¡± Cyra smirked. ¡°Kidnapping! Kidnapping! KID¡ª¡± ¡°Shush!¡± Rhea clapped her hand around Cyra¡¯s mouth. ¡°Jeez, I¡¯ll take you. But say no word of this. Where I¡¯m taking you, no one would save a kidnapper.¡± Cyra nodded eagerly. Rhea sighed, assuming this new recruit would cause trouble for her in the years to come. ¡°Ok, stay very still¡­¡± Rhea moved her hands around Cyra¡¯s head, a wispy line of blue curling smoke floating out of her wrists. Cyra stared at them in awe, but the wisps seemed to disintegrate when it came within an inch of Cyra¡¯s head. ¡°Dammit!¡± Rhea cursed. ¡°Why doesn¡¯t it work?¡± ¡°What?¡± Cyra asked, ¡°And that¡¯s a bad word.¡± Rhea glared at Cyra, and tried the blue smoke once more, but to no avail. Finally, tired, resigned, and drained, she transported Cyra to the ninja world. Cyra stayed in one of the jail cells for the first two days she arrived. She was assigned new clothes, a shower, and a set of books (that were rather boring). They books told tales of ninjas who didn¡¯t follow the rules, ninjas who died in war, and famous ninjas who, in Cyra¡¯s opinion, did very evil things to get what they wanted. But then again, plenty of people did that in the mortal world. Cyra was instructed on ninja rules and the schedule. She pretended to be interested, but she doubted the instructor cared. All Cyra could think about was Ralli. This whole ninja thing, up to that point, still seemed like a wild adventure. Finally, she was let out. Cyra set out to find Ralli. It took a day, but she was finally able to locate her sister. ¡°Ralli!¡± she shouted. But as Ralli turned her head, her stone eyes glared at Cyra. One of the ninjas next to Ralli, one of her friends, followed her gaze. The friend smirked. ¡°You know this oversized twelfth ranker?¡± ¡°No,¡± Ralli said, ¡°Who are you?¡± Cyra stood, open-mouth. Ralli and her friend pushed through Cyra. Cyra could hear giggles coming from them. But Cyra didn¡¯t mind. She could feel anything. She couldn¡¯t hear anything, other than the dull throb of blood in her head. A high-pitch whining filled her ears. Ralli wasn¡¯t the sister Cyra knew. She had become stone cold, with no sign of recognition. Cyra was almost convinced she had forgotten her. Or maybe that¡¯s what Rhea had been trying to do to Cyra. It was good Cyra and Ralli looked nothing alike. Ralli had her mother¡¯s tan skin and green eyes, and her father¡¯s thick, dark hair. Cyra had her mother¡¯s flat, brown hair and her father¡¯s yellowish skin and brown eyes. No one could associate them being siblings. Cyra was able to quickly climb her ranks. She was smart and sharp-eyed. Slowly, she realized that no one remembered much about their past life, except herself. Cyra soon caught up with her age group, met Sliver, and slowly began to protect Ralli, fulfilling her job as a big sister in the smallest ways possible. But, as one can imagine, that was extremely difficult in the ninja world. The time came during the Katana war. Ralli died. And Cyra had a chance to save her. The guilt ate away at her heart. Thoughts came swarming back to Cyra, the thoughts she had buried in the back of her brain. I shouldn¡¯t be here. I don¡¯t belong here. I¡¯m just a failure. Shock RHEA WAS A PERFECT SPECIMEN of shock. But she didn¡¯t stay like that for long. Rhea wheeled around, turning to Cyra. She ripped off the VR goggles with rage. Cyra stood frozen a minute to get her bearings and differentiate virtual from reality. ¡°Cyra. You were the last to see Sliver.¡± Cyra looked at Rhea. ¡°Sure, commander. But I can¡¯t say why it¡¯s taking her so long. She was only going to drop off her weapons.¡± Rhea cut the chase. ¡°Cyra. She¡¯s dead.¡± That was, admittingly, not the gentlest way to deliver the news. Cyra¡¯s first reaction was denial. She did a pathetic smile. ¡°It¡¯s not true. It¡¯s not true, is it? It¡¯s a joke.¡± Qwynn walked up to her. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± Blitz wasn¡¯t very good with sentimentalities. She patted Cyra awkwardly before walking off. Her hands fidgeted, begging to do something useful. The others were still in their VR world, which seemed inappropriate for the occasion. So Blitz shut off the VR power. The teacher didn¡¯t even try to stop her. She just stared respectfully at Rhea, ready to back her boss up at any moment. Now everyone else took off their blank goggles in confusion. ¡°What happened?¡± Flick asked. ¡°Anyone die?¡± Fatalty asked. Silence. She gulped, realizing the severity of the situation. ¡°That was a joke, guys.¡± Fatalty did a quick head count to save her from embarrassment. ¡°Sliver?¡± They all nodded. ¡°Show me the scene,¡± Rhea commanded, waving Blitz and Qwynn aside. Blitz nodded, too occupied to think of a snappy comeback. They walked to the same place in silence, Qwynn in the lead, Rhea close behind. Blitz sort of dragged her feet after them. The torches no longer gave off warmth. They just gave off light, the sort of light given in the hospital wing. But the day¡¯s surprises didn¡¯t end there. Qwynn neared the sight and, just like the first time, she stopped, face ashen. Realizing something was wrong, Rhea pushed her way forward. Blitz followed, worried and curious. ¡°Nothing¡¯s wrong,¡± Rhea looked at Qwynn inquisitively. But Blitz knew different. Something, no someone was missing. She turned to Qwynn. ¡°Where¡¯d the seventh-ranker go?¡± Rhea looked confused. ¡°Hold on. Are you saying there were two dead? That¡¯ll mean the killing wasn¡¯t aimed for Sliver. That¡ª¡± ¡°No.¡± Blitz cut off Rhea¡¯s train of thought, ¡°There was a seventh-ranker who fainted here. We heard her scream. I don¡¯t know where¡ª¡± For the second time Blitz and Qwynn looked at each other, understanding what happened at the same time. Rhea took a little longer, but caught on. Unfortunately, her first reaction was blame. ¡°Who checked the pulse?¡± Qwynn looked like she swallowed a shuriken. Rhea narrowed her eyes at her. ¡°Did you check all signs of a faint? Eyelid check? Slap check? No? Did you even search for weapons?¡± Qwynn looked like she was trying to morph into turtle and collapse in a shell. All of her original determination was gone. Blitz came to the rescue. ¡°She was in shock. It was good enough that she regained her sanity and check the pulse altogether.¡± Rhea turned her stare to Blitz. ¡°Well, if that¡¯s so, why didn¡¯t you check it then?¡± Blitz looked up in surprise. ¡°Excuse me, I was checking the dead person¡¯s pulse. I trust Qwynn. It¡¯s not my fault I didn¡¯t check the other one!¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°Excuse you. Is that how you talk to a commander?¡± ¡°No. Because you¡¯re not acting like a commander worth respecting. I¡¯m sorry, but I don¡¯t give out lagniappes.¡± Rhea probably didn¡¯t know what that word meant. Pity, Blitz thought, it¡¯s such a pretty word. Rhea did have a sort of idea what it may have meant though. And the result was the same. Rhea opened her mouth to say, ¡°Go. Just go. You let an Arth kill Sliver and get away, and you don¡¯t know how to appreciate my not locking you up along with¡ª¡± she stopped, as if changing her mind, ¡°¡ªalong with the other lunatics. Go.¡± Blitz ran off, muttering curses in several different languages. She was running towards her dorm, as she usually did when something of the sort happened, but she decided to turn a left and head to the jail. Something about locking up lunatics had sparked Blitz¡¯s memory. The Kor tailor was situated next to the jail, and the scratch in Blitz¡¯s boot was wearing into a hole. Finally, Blitz stopped in front of a wall of doors. These doors were made with a foot of rock and iron. These were the lunatic cells. The corridor was the fastest way to get to the tailor. B Blitz walked slowly, as she always did in the jail. She didn¡¯t want to anger any prisoners more than they already were. The next war could spark from these people. Blitz followed the cold line of stone doors. Seemingly random numbers were etched deep into the rock, surprisingly crude compared to most of the Kor. 519, 308, 114, 847. Blitz knew what they meant though. Each cell contained some sort of insane prisoner. These prisoners lived in their own grave. They were to rot in these cells forever. Each of these prisoners were assigned a number. The higher the number, the more horrendous the crime was. Some, like number 114 probably didn¡¯t commit a big crime but was just a person stripped from sanity. What 847 did however, must have been huge. Blitz touched the door, wondering if the person was still alive. Is that, an X? Blitz squinted at the number on the door. Two light strokes of chalk struck through the number. Was that an accident? Blitz looked at the adjoining doors. Must be. Blitz¡¯s brain instantly went to work. An accident was the most reasonable explanation, yet it was still unlikely. No one would casually bring a piece of chalk to the lunatic cells, just to scratch one of the doors. Besides, it wasn¡¯t like there was a lot of chalk lying around the Kor. All the classrooms used whiteboards and had a digital projector fitted on it. Could 847 be dead? That was more plausible. Yet it wouldn¡¯t explain the X. No one went into an occupied lunatic cell. It was practically suicide. Consequently, no one knew if the occupant was dead or not. Blitz puzzled over the possibilities. A guard tapped Blitz on the shoulder. She was too tall, too skinny, and too fragile. Horrible ninja material. ¡°May I ask what you¡¯re doing here?¡± ¡°Oh!¡± Blitz turned around. ¡°I was wondering why the number was crossed out.¡± The guard shrugged. ¡°The commander came the other day and led her out. Some weirdo.¡± Let her out? This was a surprise. Blitz had considered it, but immediately dismissed the idea. And why 847? Blitz thanked the guard, and set off to the jail office. There was a book, a log of some sort, called Criminal Records. It logged all the prisoners ever to spend a day in the cells. Cyra would be in the book. It was no secret her first two days in the Kor was as a prisoner. The only problem was, this book was nestled in a file cabinet in the jail office. Obviously Blitz couldn¡¯t simply walk in and steal it, but taking the book was easy enough. Blitz slipped into a nondescript door. It was one of the many entrances to the first underground level. She slipped into a vent, into the wall. A little climbing led her to the back wall of the jail office. No one really watched the jail office. There were, however, two surveillance cameras mounted in the corners. Whenever they detected motion, they would send a signal to someone in the surveillance room, and Blitz would be caught. However, the cameras had no microphone. Blitz pulled out a serrated dagger. She positioned it at the wall, and started carving a square out of it. The walls had a thin layer of insulation, but it was relatively easy to get through it. Finally, her dagger hit metal. The file cabinet. The file cabinet was made of cheap aluminum. It was the easiest to make and bend. Besides, there would be no point in a sturdy cabinet. The cameras ensured no intruder would be able to come in the room without a trace. Blitz¡¯s dagger easily pierced the soft metal, cutting a large rectangle in the back of the cabinet. Blitz reached her hand into the hole. It took a bit of trial and error to find the right book. She pulled out several manuals and a romance novel before finding the Criminal Records book. Blitz quickly grabbed it out and replaced the aluminum rectangle as best as she could. The romance novel told her that it wouldn¡¯t be long before someone would discover the hole. Blitz crawled back to the underground tunnels, which had a better lighting than the vent. She flipped through pages of frightening criminals, one after the other. A half-melted woman stared through empty eye sockets. A bloody man, man, stared at her with hungry eyes. The worst were the ones without pictures though. Descriptions of the criminal were printed instead. Words like, bloody eyes, gut-gushing, and skinless bounced off the page. The closer Blitz neared 847, the harder her heart thumped. What would it be? She thought, Demented skull-head? But when she turned to 847, she was met by an attractive woman. Blitz was about the read the passage next to it when all went black.