ã€ŠDrawstone [Book 1 Complete]ã€‹


 Prologue

    Gideon Koar had been a great man, in Jimmy''s eyes. A revolutionary kind of man-- an icon type. Bodies being found buried on his estate? Tortured, abused, and experimented on?

    The kind of news was hard to believe. It didn¡¯t sit right with Jimmy. He smelled foul play.

    But he had orders, and a request.

    ¡°Do your best to minimize my visibility, Jimmy,¡± his boss had said, ¡°I can¡¯t have the rest of the council thinking I''m interested in gaining a piece of the Koar pie after rejecting their offer.¡±

    Trey Oberon was something of an odd-ball compared to the rest of the Council seats. The kind of oddball that Jimmy would willingly sacrifice his plan A for. And given the faces he was seeing going in and out of the estate as he observed from afar, he would be recognized almost immediately. Most would see him as another constable or detective tasked with combing the estate for useful intel. He fit the stereotype, he could blend in.

    But some would recognize him as The Hound. Word would get around, and any of the few who knew that he was primarily contracted to Trey Oberon these days would start asking Trey questions that he probably wouldn¡¯t be too keen to answer. The people at Trey¡¯s level played political games within games within even larger metagames. It always sent Jim¡¯s brain for a loop, and he¡¯d cracked some pretty cerebral cases in his time.

    A career of cases-gone-wrong has taught him to never leave the office without a plan, ideally three of them. Plans had saved his life more times than he had fingers to count with. Whether the job was high risk¡ª like tailing a Council Seat to a secret location to gather evidence of illicit dealings¡ª or low risk, like the one he was currently contracted for; having a plan, a backup plan, and a backup-backup plan was his golden rule.

    His mission was to escort the orphaned son of Gideon Koar to a new city, with a new identity. He didn¡¯t know why, and he didn¡¯t really care. What he did know was that Trey seemed to value this job very highly.

    So Jimmy would do his best to see it done.

    Plan A was to skulk around the confiscated Koar estate to see if he could verify any of the evidence that was getting everyone so worked up. To be honest, Plan A was more personal than it was professional.

    Back in his heyday, his backup-backup plans usually meant being prepared to extort his safety and payment for his work with blackmail he¡¯d gathered against whoever his particular employer on other cases. Council Seats were typically fair dealers, but once in a while they could be like bloodthirsty sharks. There were a couple of those types with Seats on the Council now. Other times, you¡¯d get a peaceful period where all the Seats could cooperate in something less like a cold war split 5 ways, and more like a world government aught to.

    All that to say that he¡¯d had his fair dealings with the Council before. He was a known value to them, and his primary loyalty to his boss wasn¡¯t a very well kept secret.

    Which meant he had to go with his backup plan; Plan B.

    The focus of this job wasn¡¯t the Koar estate, it was who it would have belonged to if the Council hadn¡¯t pounced upon it like a hungry lion. The timing of which, Jimmy thought for the thousandth time, was curious. They hadn''t waited more than a day to have their people on that estate. It was almost like they¡¯d been waiting for it. It made him wonder, was the explosive death of Gideon Koar while he was tinkering away in his top-secret lab so tragically accidental after all?

    But that was a plan A kind of question, and one he wasn¡¯t being paid to answer. Instead, the focus of his job was the Koar heir. An heir to nothing, now. Nothing but grief.

    His boss had told him that the council had claimed a few special priviliges during this case, one of which caused Jimmy to believe that the kid would already be at the local law enforcement branch. It wasn¡¯t too far of a drive from the Gideon estate, as the estate was smack-dab in the middle of a particularly well-off neighborhood, one where law enforcement was well funded and always just a call and a short drive away.

    As far as back-up plans went, this one was pretty threadbare. He was winging it, but he was confident he¡¯d be able to pull it off. He probably didn¡¯t even have to go inside.

    But that Plan A curiosity was still pulling at him, pulling his attention like a stubborn itch. He briefly considered if going inside was too much of a risk, and he figured it wasn''t. It might be useful to try and talk his way into listening in on the kid¡¯s interrogation.

    Lucky for him, he knew the guy at the front desk. He was the offspring of an old acquaintance, one who apparently liked to tell his boy that he and Jimmy ¡®The Hound¡¯ Jeremiah were quite the team back in the day. The kid''s eyes lit up when he saw Jimmy, and greeted him like an old uncle. Jimmy asked if he could help his dad''s old pal with a small favor. The kid seemed uncertain at first, but with gathered something that might have been resolve and gave Jimmy a nod.

    "Anything for my dad''s old partner," the kid said, "we''re basically like family."

    The kid let him behind the desk, which offered a shortcut into the offices, and Jimmy was on his way.

    He''d helped the kid''s dad on a pro-bono case in a fit of sentimentality. Hid some evidence of a pretty minor crime that would had him fired. It took him less than a day, and he got a year of free drinks at a local pub from the whole thing. That had been over a decade ago, and he hadn''t talked to the man since.

    Family, Jimmy scoffed. The guy had filled his kid''s head full of fluff.

    He observed the atmosphere of the office as he walked.

    Cubicles, loud printing machines, cops and admin staff all exhibiting the symptoms of varying levels of stress. Sweat stains, spilled coffee, furrowed brows, mountains of paperwork. The Council had moved uncharacteristically fast, and this local branch had been on the receiving end of that.

    Jimmy figured that the sudden increase in workload was the least of their problems. Media was going to have a field day with this. Soon, reporters would flock to this neighborhood like ravenous scavengers. The news of Gideon Koar''s tragic and untimely demise had only recently been made public, this dark twist was probably going to make its rounds in the media for weeks.

    It made Jimmy uncomfortable. The man had been hailed as a visionary, a modern-day historical figure. He''d help shape the face of the century, making critical advancements in the field of construct artisanship. He''d turned them into consumer products that everyone could benefit from, instead of being used almost exclusively by high-level bureaucrats and the military.

    Academics had been calling this current era the ¡®age of information,¡¯ but ever since Gideon Koar had exploded onto the scene, people had come to call it the ¡®the age of ether¡¯.

    As uncomfortable as the news made him, he was far too jaded to dismiss it outright. Jimmy had been around his fair share of great men. He knew a thing or two about his species. No matter the age or era, humans were humans. Sometimes the so-called ¡®greatest¡¯ of men and women would commit atrocious crimes. Most of the time, it was the humble nobodies would commit acts of incredible generosity and nobility. Those types deserved the most praise, in Jimmy''s opinion.

    Years ago, Jimmy had hid bodies for those great men, some of those bodies belonging to the noble nobodies who got in the way. Some of those great men got caught, some were living large. Some, he¡¯d even told Trey about. After years of suppressing his conscious, it was a small revenge, but it offered a sense of closure for the naive child that had died within him back then. He¡¯d given Trey a lot of leverage to use against his rivals, some he was sure that Trey was holding in reserve, some he had probably acted on to raise Oberon Enterprises to a new height.

    Jimmy wasn''t proud of his past, but that had been another life. Now, he called his own shots, he could turn down jobs, and he had no one ordering him to do things he didn¡¯t want to do. Being independent in this world wasn¡¯t easy, but he''d managed to do it. There weren''t a lot of people in this world who could say that about themselves.

    No one in the office questioned Jimmy''s presence. He flashed in investigative license, and his business was suddenly none of their business. Investigators like Jimmy operated at a level way beyond these people''s paygrade, and he was counting on the fact that as far as they were concerned it was in their best interest to pretend they never saw him. Jimmy did his best to pretend he had a council-sized stick up his ass and an ego to match as he turned a corner and reached the interrogation rooms. He knocked on one of the observation room doors that flanked them. The door opened, a tall mustached man looked at him and squinted his eyes.

    ¡°Busy,¡± the man said. Just before he shut the door, Jimmy caught the edge of the door with his hand. Despite the man¡¯s efforts, the door barely budged in Jimmy¡¯s grip.

    Perks of having an above-average Affinity Rating for his age, and this man seemed to be over a decade younger, too. He must have been skimping on his training.

    Jimmy flashed his badge, indicating that he¡¯s a licensed private investigator. The read the first few lines on the badge.

    ¡°Private? How¡¯d you pull that off?¡± the man scoffed, ¡°listen, you¡¯re either crazy or brilliant. I don¡¯t care, because either way you¡¯ve got no business here. We¡¯re in the middle of a very important case, so if you¡¯d kindly see yourself out?¡±

    Jimmy sighed.

    ¡°Look, my employer assigned me to oversee how this case is handled. You know how it is, right?¡± He asked the tall man, sticking out his hand, the one not holding the door in a vice grip.

    ¡°Name¡¯s Jimmy, by the way. Jimmy Jeremiah.¡±

    The man was about to say something, but then his eyes widened.

    ¡°As in James Jeremiah? The Hound?¡±

    Jimmy sighed.

    The Hound was gone. An urban legend now, an echo from a life that he had left behind him. Heavens willing, it would stay that way.

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°Just Jimmy, these days. Keep the hound between us, will you? Thanks, detective...¡±

    ¡°Oh, Greg, sir,¡± Greg shook Jimmy¡¯s offered hand, suddenly all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ¡°Greg Hemruck.¡±

    That named tickled something in Jimmy¡¯s tired old brain.

    ¡°Greg Hemruck. I¡¯ve heard that name before. Was it Smith Transports? No,¡± Jimmy said, waving as Greg was about to interrupt, ¡°don¡¯t tell me. No, it was the Pacific Shield, right? You cleaned out a whole abolitionist cell. Who tipped you off about that?¡±

    ¡°If word got out that I was naming names, the best case scenario is that I''d be out of a job,¡± Greg scoffed.

    Jimmy nodded.

    ¡°I know how it is. Now, about this Koar case¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªsay no more,¡± Greg said, inviting Jimmy in. Aside from the slight distaste from leveraging his old identity, Jimmy was somewhat gratified that the moniker still carried some weight.

    ¡°¡­I know this is hard to hear, Hunter¡­¡± came a gravelly voice over the small speaker which wasset in the wall above the two-way mirror. It belonged to a young man with sharp eyes in one of the cleanest looking uniforms Jimmy had ever seen.

    This young man was clearly ambitious. He had that energy Jimmy had come to associate with high achievers; competent, and unwilling to settle for anything less than the top of the food chain. Jimmy had been like that once. And from a certain point of view, he¡¯d been successful. That is, if you considered PTSD, an estranged family, three ex-wives, not being able to enter certain parts of the civilized world without having to constantly look over his shoulder, the simultaneous hatred and respect of the most dangerous and powerful people in the world, and spending half of his nights sleepless and anxious, a successful career.

    But he also had a lot of money.

    Most ambitious young men and women wouldn¡¯t come close to living the kind of life that Jimmy had lived. For the average man or women, working up a rung or two of the corporate ladder would work out just fine. For the few who felt the intense desire to stand out from the crowd, they would climb that ladder until they were competing at a global level. But by that point you¡¯re going up against entire families, and business or political alliances who would be willing to do anything it takes to remain at the top.

    For instance, they could completely tear the inheritance right out of the hands of a young, clueless child without remorse.

    Hunter Koar sat across from the young hotshot detective who was looking at the kid like a ravenous wolf looks at a wounded rabbit¡ªhaving been chased and exhausted and was now resigned to its fate.

    Who was bank rolling this whole operation, anyways? The Council Seats had probably all wanted a piece of the Koar estate for a while. If this was a joint operation, then there really wasn¡¯t much anybody could do to help the kid. It would explain why Trey might be interested in helping him out. That was Trey¡¯s usual way of working, he did what he could to minimize the damage that the Council could leave in its wake when it didn¡¯t interfere too much with the combined interest of the rest of the Council.

    Even then, sometimes Trey took risks that would piss most of the Council off. Like, for instance, trying to smuggle away the child of the dead golden goose that the Council could never tie its leash around.

    Hunter was hunched over. He had long, curly black hair that seemed to resist the pull of gravity. Poor kid looked like he¡¯d just been through a storm, and had only barely made it out.

    ¡°So, what, you guys just pulled him out of his house and stuck him in an interrogation room? How long has this been going on for?¡± Jimmy asked, afraid he knew the answer.

    ¡°Orders, Jimmy," Greg said, having heared the unspoken accusation, "everyone not cleared by the case¡¯s sponsors to be on the property were told to leave or be promptly escorted off-site. That includes the kid.¡±

    ¡°¡­and you¡¯re sure that you have no recollection of any place your father might have left more of his research?¡± the young man on the other side of the mirror asked. Hunter shook his head, his eyes red. He sniffed and clenched his jaws.

    ¡°I need you to think really hard, Hunter. These men and women are dead. The evidence is pretty clear. They were buried on your family¡¯s estate as recently as 3 years ago. Anything you can tell us that might help us shed light on why your father would do something like this¡ª¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t do it,¡± Hunter muttered, then wiped at his eyes. Jimmy had to strain to hear him. He wasn¡¯t certain he even heard it right.

    Poor kid. Seems like he has some spirit, though.

    ¡°That¡¯s Esther Visgold,¡± Greg said, gesturing towards the young man interrogating Hunter, ¡°from the LockeMark capital.¡±

    ¡°The Visgolds, eh?¡± A small piece of the puzzle revealed itself. The LockeMark Visgolds had been with the LockeMark corporation for years. He¡¯d been hired by them once, a long time ago. They were very well off, very secure in their position, and had been for a very long time. That wasn¡¯t easy to do, and usually meant that opposing them was universally considered a bad idea, unless you had greater resources AND a fool-proof plan.

    If this was one of their kids, out to prove himself, it would explain the feeling he was giving Jimmy. If Esther could bring that energy to every case he operated for the rest of his life, played his cards right, and was able to properly leverage his family resources, he¡¯d go very far.

    But Esther''s presence meant that Jimmy wouldn¡¯t be enacting contingency plan C, which would see him bust into the interrogation as Hunters¡¯ assigned lawyer, and get Hunter out of their before anyone up the chain of command could stop him.

    Not that he hadn¡¯t taken a risk like that before, and with people much more potentially dangerous than the Visgolds. But he was much younger in those days, and only the youth can enjoy the illusion of immortality. Also, it would risk exposing Trey¡¯s involvement. That risk would only rise if Esther had reason to look into Jimmy¡¯s presence.

    Esther would be too young to know who the Hound, was.

    Probably.

    But what would it hurt to keep the Visgolds ignorant to his presence? Jimmy would stick with the first back-up plan. Eventually, these guys would lose interest in Hunter. After that, they¡¯d kick him onto the street. That¡¯s when Jimmy would swoop in.

    ¡°How long you figure you¡¯ll keep this up?¡± Jimmy asked.

    Greg hummed to himself in thought.

    ¡°We haven¡¯t been able to get much out of him. Except for some some construct projects he¡¯d been working on¡ª get this; see how frail he looks?¡± Greg asked.

    Jimmy nodded. Frail was an understatement¡ª he looked severely malnourished.

    ¡°His last recorded AR measurement had him at 4. That was years ago, and it hasn¡¯t budged since.¡±

    ¡°How old is he?¡± Jimmy asked.

    ¡°He¡¯s 11 this year,¡± Greg said. Jimmy whistled.

    ¡°Poor kid. And you said he was an artisan?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±

    ¡°But don¡¯t you need a higher AR for those? Certainly more than the average toddler, at least i¡¯d assume.¡±

    Greg laughed.

    ¡°Yeah, from what I understand you typically need an AR of 9 to begin to think about learning about constructs. They don¡¯t let you build your own until you have an AR of 12, or so. At least that¡¯s how things are at my kids¡¯ school.¡±

    ¡°So how¡¯s he been doing it?¡± Jimmy asked. Apart from the obvious, this was Gideon Koar''s kid after all.

    ¡°Apparently he¡¯s been using ether batts. Figures that Gideon would be able to afford a boat-load of them for the kid. They even had a personal node to charge the batteries on the property.¡±

    It was strange, Jimmy thought. Children typically inherited their affinity potential from their parents. Gideon Koar¡¯s affinity had been known to be very high, much higher than even Jimmy¡¯s, who was considered to be pretty gifted¡ª not that he¡¯d had cause to do anything with it except leverage the increased strength and endurance once in a blue moon.

    For Hunter¡¯s AR to be so incredibly low was a bit shocking. Another degree of tragedy to add to this whole drama.

    ¡°That¡¯s got to be expensive,¡± Jimmy said. Using batteries would make sense. If you can¡¯t power the construct by yourself, using something else. No human he¡¯d ever heard of could directly channel electricity, so they built tools do it for them, and batteries to store that energy for later use. The logic seemed simple enough.

    ¡°But it makes sense, given who Gideon was,¡± Greg said.

    Jimmy nodded.

    The man had possessed a personal net worth that could rival some Council families. Avoiding petty expenses weren''t quite relevant at that level of wealth.

    ¡°So the kid is taking after his father? He any good with ether?¡±

    Greg shrugged.

    ¡°Not my area of expertise,¡± he said, ¡°and the kid won¡¯t say anything about anything. I think he¡¯s in shock. Probably still processing his dad¡¯s death. Poor kid,¡± he said.

    Jimmy nodded, content to leave it at that. It wasn¡¯t his business anyways. While he was now officially here to observe how the case unfolded, Trey probably had multiple vectors of intelligence focused to and from this building.

    Jimmy¡¯s just needed to get Hunter from point A to point B. That¡¯s it.

    Esther looked at the two-way mirror, indicating that he was done. Jimmy was relieved he wouldn¡¯t have to wait and watch Hunter be subjected to this crucible any longer.

    ¡°Well, Greg, it was great to meet you,¡± Jimmy said, shaking Greg¡¯s hand one more time.

    ¡°Pleasure. Wanna grab a drink sometime? Some of the guys here would probably love to hear some stories about your old cases. You¡¯re something of a legend,¡± Greg said.

    Jimmy laughed.

    ¡°I¡¯m a busy man, Detective, but maybe one day I''ll take you up on the offer.¡±

    Greg nodded and opened the door. Jimmy smiled and left. He figured they¡¯d keep Hunter in there for another 20 minutes or so while they discussed whatever they learned, or didn¡¯t learn. Then they¡¯d tell the kid to leave, but to make sure he stayed in the neighborhood so that they could contact him if they needed him. He bet that in all the chaos, no one would have considered whether or not Hunter would have a place to go.

    What a joke. The kid had nothing, anymore. No home, no landline. No future.

    At least, not that the kid new about.

    His prediction was almost spot on. About 25 minutes later, Hunter moped his way out of the law enforcement branch. The kid sighed, and looked up to the sky. His gaze was fixed up there for a while, before someone exited the building behind him and almost bumped into him. Knocked out of his reverie, Hunter started walking.

    Jimmy pulled up beside him, and got out of the car. The kid was tall for his age. Just about as tall as Jimmy himself, and he considered himself about average.

    ¡°Hunter.¡±

    Hunter stopped, and looked at him. Jimmy could only imagine what Hunter was thinking. Jimmy was slightly overweight, bald, old, and had a worn grey suit which may or may not have had some darker patches around his armpits. The kid pursed his lips, probably thinking of turning right back around and walking to who-knows-where.

    ¡°What?¡± Hunter asked. His voice was low, and quiet.

    ¡°I assume that you¡¯ve just been give the worst news of your life,¡± Jimmy said, ¡°And that this news was accompanied by the prompt notice that your old house, all of your possessions, all of your inheritance, and your projects, have been confiscated from your family¡¯s possession.¡±

    The nerve was apparently still very, very raw. Hunter squinted and wiped at his eyes. Jimmy came around the car and leaned down slightly to look Hunter in the face.

    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine what you¡¯re going through kid. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°Was there anything I could do for you, Mr..?¡± Hunter asked, sniffling as his eyes started to water.

    Jimmy sighed.

    ¡°Its not often that anyone goes through what you¡¯re going through. And you¡¯re just a kid. I know it¡¯s not fair. But my employer has taken a bit of an interest in this case. He wants to give you something.¡±

    That got the kid¡¯s attention. He stared straight into Jimmy¡¯s eyes, and Jimmy could have sworn it was Gideon Koar himself who was standing before him. The kid might not have inherited any of Gideon¡¯s stuff, but those green eyes peppered with crimson shards, held an intensity that reminded Jimmy of when he¡¯d met Gideon once, long ago.

    He¡¯d been a very focused man. You¡¯d have to be, to accomplish what he had.

    ¡°Give me what?¡± Hunter asked between sniffles.

    ¡°A new start,¡± Jimmy said. Hunter looked at him with distrust, and a bit of confusion.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Hunter asked.

    ¡°I mean, no one here will be able to bother you,¡± Jimmy said, gesturing towards the building that the kid had just been held for the last few hours, "you''ll be safe. I promise."

    Hunter looked down, his eyes shifting as he considered. Then he looked back up at Jimmy, and nodded.

    ¡°Okay,¡± Jimmy said, nodding back, ¡°good.¡±

    He squeezed between Hunter and the front of the car, and opened the passenger-side door.

    ¡°Get in, it¡¯ll be a bit of a drive. You hungry? We can pick something along the way.¡±

    Hunter nodded as he got in. Poor kid was probably drained. From what Jimmy understood, a low AR could mean that Hunter just wasn¡¯t built like other people. He wouldn¡¯t just be physically weaker, he¡¯d probably have much less energy as well. And after going what he¡¯d just been through, anyone would feel exhausted.

    Several hours of driving and a couple of pit stops to eat, Hunter had been dropped off at the empty home which Trey Oberon had set up for him. He hadn¡¯t been allowed to tell Hunter who was providing the home, and it came with a few conditions.

    Hunter was alone in the world and would need to fend for himself- but he wouldn¡¯t have to worry about having a place to stay. Jimmy wasn¡¯t too worried. He was the child of Gideon Koar, and despite his handicap, if he had even a fraction of Gideon¡¯s focus and drive, he¡¯d make something of himself in this world.

    It was just a matter of time.

    Jimmy sighed as he drove back home. Another day, another job successfully handled. Whatever happened next for the boy was none of Jimmy¡¯s business

    As the open road stretched before him on his way back to the Oberon Capital, he was thinking he¡¯d just earned himself another expensive bottle of whiskey.

 Chapter 1

    Hunter was looking upwards, far past the Seckina city horizon, and dreamt of a life beyond. The late-summer sun hid behind a rare veil of clouds. A few ships graced the sky, yet from this distance they appeared like small flies against the great grey, white, and blue backdrop.

    He liked to envision himself as an explorer, crewing a ship bound for new-found worlds beyond Sanctuary. Exploring new lands, meeting new people, discovering and innovating with exciting new technologies. He longed to leave the pull of this place, which seemed to keep his feet stubbornly planted on the solid ground.

    Freedom. That was the ideal. To go wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted, to do whatever he wanted. So far, he hadn¡¯t found a more appropriate symbol for that than in the tales from the crews that are sent out to explore the places beyond this world.

    He¡¯d been captivated by those stories when he was younger. A world beyond their own? With their own skies, and their own soils? What would it be like to see his home from so high up?

    He¡¯d thought about it for years.

    There were only a few ships up there that he could see right now, but he knew that there were probably hundreds more, out beyond Sanctuary''s sky, split between all of the various Council Seats. Hunter imagined that at that very moment, as he stood there, they would be ferrying people and cargo across the vast inter-realm space. Hunter liked to imagine he could feel the those distant ships¡¯ etheric circuitry singing to him from all the way down here. In fact, if he¡¯d trusted anyone at all with the truth about his sensitivity to the strange substance, he¡¯d tell them that he could just barely make out the slightest sensations whenever one passed overhead.

    He¡¯d never been close enough to one of them to know exactly what he was feeling, though. The specific distortions created as charge met glyph and was channeled elsewhere in what Hunter imagined to be the most complex glyph networks in existence appeared to him as nothing but a haze, like the way the voices of a crowd of people seemed to merge into one sound.

    Being able to feel into the specifics of a construct usually took time in front of its exposed inner workings. He could read them like children''s books. In the blink of an eye he could tell you what most mainstream etheric constructs were designed to do, usually accompanied by all the ways he¡¯d personally design it differently.

    What he knew, which other ether artisans didn¡¯t seem to, was that ether had desires. Maybe ¡®desires¡¯ wasn¡¯t the right word, but it felt more accurate to call them desires than it was to call them elemental charges, although he tended to use the terms interchangeably. When ether was conditioned to exhibit reaction A, reaction A would have a different desire than it would have had if it had been conditioned towards reaction B.

    He called these desires, and their fulfillment, synergies. And so far, he¡¯d never been able to satisfy that deep desire that the ether seemed to crave. If anything, the desire seemed to grow stronger.

    Stronger than Hunter could handle.

    Hunter believed the deepest secrets of etherium were at his fingertips, if only his AR were higher. It hadn¡¯t risen in the last 12 years. Most people his age would have reached an average affinity rating of 13 or 14. It was rumored that Aera Oberon, the daughter of Oberon monarch, was something of a prodigy. She might have been about a year or two older than himself, but her AR was already reaching the 30¡¯s.

    The things he would be able to do with 30 AR¡­

    However, it wasn¡¯t meant to be. His AR was stuck at 4, rivalling only the most gifted of toddlers.

    It kept him physically weak. The mechanism behind it wasn¡¯t understood, the only real literature he could find on the subect was sparse except for some pseudoscientific garbage making a correlation between etherium and ¡®life force¡¯. He was yet to find any useful insight that might help him bridge the gap between him and his goals.

    ¡°Where there is a will, there is a way,¡± he muttered to himself. It was a cliche, but it was something his father always repeated in those few, brief moments they would share together. Cliche phrases were Gideon Koar¡¯s favorite form of advice, but the sheer conviction he¡¯d speak with¡ª gripping his necklace, a light of passion in his eyes, was enough to spark Hunters own passion whenever he was feeling demotivated. Cliche wisdom was practically hammered into him as a kid.

    Hunter never figured out why his father was so fond of that necklace, which had a strange design he hadn¡¯t seen anywhere before or since¡ª save for one family trip to a museum in the Oberon Capital. Gideon would always laugh it off, telling him its ¡®a history thing.¡¯ He imagined it was a letter or phrase from an old language. His father had loved to research the Asutnahem whenever he wasn¡¯t in the lab. Maybe it meant ¡®positivity,¡¯ or maybe ¡®perseverance.¡¯

    Obstacles are a mindset. You¡¯re only as limited as you believe you are. Limitations are for quitters.

    Naturally, four-year-old Hunter soaked it all up like a sponge. That was before he knew he would never be stronger than a 5 year old. It was before he knew that his dream to be a powerful ether artisan was destined to abruptly die.

    But his father wouldn¡¯t let him quit. And besides, Hunter couldn¡¯t quit. It was like ether had a hook on him and was constantly pulling him towards learning more, experiencing more, feeling more.

    He challenged his handicap. Ether batteries were invented shortly before he was born, and he¡¯d say they came right on time. Yet even with the batteries, he had his limitations. It took time to use batteries, to hook them and unhook them, to gauge their output, to ration their charge, and it especially took time and resources to charge them.

    So Hunter needed to work. He needed batteries to earn more batteries. His grace period of free living ended 2 years ago, since then he¡¯d needed to work harder to keep the roof over his head, pay his bills, and put food on the table.

    The problem was, all of the jobs he would typically rely on around town were drying up. He thought he knew why, and it probably had to do with the street rats that were currently waiting in front of his door, and it was those street rats that had him walking halfway across the city, thinking of anything but his current problem.

    He had 2 days left before his 3 day deadline expired. He¡¯d need to give them his decision soon.

    He would either join peacefully, and work for the 32nd Street Comics exclusively, or suffer the consequences. They¡¯d never told him what the consequences of refusing were, but the uncertainty was just as bad as anything that Hunter came up with to fill in the blank.

    As far as Hunter was concerned, it meant everything from being beaten and forced to work for the gang, to being killed so that he didn¡¯t end up working for anyone else that would oppose the gang¡¯s interests.

    As far as Hunter was concerned, whether it was the gang, or the council, someone would always be interested in controlling him and profiting off of him. Not that he had to worry too much about the council. The man who brought him to this city had promised him that so long as he didn¡¯t reveal his real name, no one here would connect him to his father.

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    Here, he was safe from the council. But he wasn¡¯t safe from other interested parties, which his mysterious benefactor hadn¡¯t seemed to take into consideration when he dropped him here, alone.

    Sometimes he wondered if they had been a member of the Council, who had taken pity on him. But knowing the Council, it went deeper. Corps couldn¡¯t be trusted¡ª which meant the people that made up the corps couldn¡¯t be trusted. Which meant that whoever his benefactor was, if they had anything to do with the council, they probably couldn¡¯t be trusted.

    And the corps were everywhere.

    So who could he trust?

    He sighed, and decided that he¡¯d had enough hiding for the day. He was hungry and he¡¯d need to get home soon anyways. There was work to be done, and he¡¯d need to tell the rats that he hadn¡¯t made up his mind yet.

    He stopped by Mrs. Margaret¡¯s on the way. Once in a while she¡¯d ask him to help out by maintaining her store¡¯s constructs. She was getting older and she was willing to give him a chance when he needed one. She was one of the few people he could count on when he needed some quick cash.

    Mrs. Margaret¡¯s toy store was one of the smaller stores on the block, flanked by a cafe and an electronics retailer. He¡¯d tried to sell his services to the electronics shop as well, but they¡¯d laughed him out. He¡¯d briefly considered messing with their connection to the etherline. It would be an expensive fix, but it wouldn¡¯t have done any lasting damage, and it would have been quite difficult to pull off on his own. The cafe already had an artisan on call. He''d tried to tell them he could do a better job, but they''d declined him politely.

    Mrs. Margaret¡¯s shop seemed mostly empty that day. The door chime rang as Hunter entered, and Mrs. Margaret looked up from behind her desk. Frizzled white hair and large glasses framed a small wrinkled face. Her eyes seemed exaggerated on her small face, the glasses made them seem much bigger than they were. She smiled at him.

    ¡°Oh! Jonathan, just the young man I was hoping to see. The forklift in the back is acting up again and I was wondering if you could tinker with it the same way you did with my cash register,¡± she said as she hobbled around the desk and started leading him towards the storage area in the back of the store.

    Hunter smiled.

    ¡°Sure, let¡¯s take a look at it,¡± he said. Forklifts didn¡¯t typically use ether except for a few cases. He¡¯d heard that they were popping up more often as newer designs were becoming more popular than the old Force and Reinforce glyphs. The new designs reduced the AR of those devices by about a third, which was incredible as far as most modern innovations went.

    He doubted she had invested in one of those, unless the store had suddenly found a new source of profit that he wasn¡¯t aware of. Unlikely given how her most recent contract had been prematurely dissolved.

    Hunter wasn¡¯t too familiar with electronics, but he¡¯d had enough people ask him for help with them¡ª assuming that ether and electricity were closely related.

    To his surprise, it was indeed a newer model. He whistled as he took it in, focusing intently on the small constructs attached to the small vehicle.

    ¡°Quite the investment,¡± Hunter said as he bent down. He¡¯d need a battery in order to troubleshoot where the issue was. If he remembered correctly, he left one around there the last time he¡¯d been over to repair something.

    ¡°We just got a new contract with Smith Transports, they¡¯re releasing some new products and decided that our shop was the perfect fit to represent their brand in the Oberon domain. Given the trade restrictions that Oberon has been imposing on other corps, It¡¯s a great honor to represent another Council Seat given the limited amount of dealers they¡¯re allowed to work with.¡±

    He glimpsed the logo the the forklift. Indeed, it belonged to Smith Transports as well.

    ¡°And they threw in a complimentary forklift to seal the deal?¡±

    Mrs. Margaret nodded enthusiastically.

    ¡°They were kind enough to send us one of their newest models at a heavy discount, which they took off the initial payout for the contract,¡± she said, patting the forklift with admiration, ¡°it¡¯s been a while since we got a real upgrade around here. I figured you¡¯d want to get your hands on it, too.¡±

    Hunter chuckled. Mrs. Margaret had been one of his clients for years, she knew him pretty well by now.

    That battery was was near where he¡¯d left it the last time. He brought it back over to the forklift, and attached it to slot near where the drawstone would go. He activated the construct, just long enough to feel the flow of etherium. He spotted the issue within a few seconds.

    He deactivated the construct and removed the battery, placing it carefully aside. The problem was a poorly attached network connector, meant to channel etherium between disparate parts of the machine. Hunter wasn¡¯t impressed with the standards of whichever artisan had designed this¡ª nor was he impressed with Smith Transports, who approved of its release to the market.

    He carefully detached and reattached the component, adding a few more channels to help with a more efficient flow of etherium.

    It worked just fine after that.

    ¡°You really ought to set up a business around here, Jonathan. You¡¯re such a smart young man. I¡¯m sure a lot of the folks in town would love to do business with you. Who knows? You might be able to land an Oberon contract!¡± She said, beaming up at him.

    He stifled his reaction¡ª barely keeping the scorn from reaching his face. She was far too forgiving in his opinion. The corps had threatened her livelihood and she still seemed to hold them in high esteem¡ª despite the lack of honor they¡¯ve shown her.

    ¡°Thanks, Mrs. Margaret. Anything else you need my help with?¡± He asked, simultaneously wanting to leave and find an excuse not to go back home. As much as he respected Mrs. Margaret, anyone kissing corporate ass in his presence made him feel queasy.

    ¡°That¡¯ll be all, Jonathan. Oh! I can¡¯t forget your pay!¡± She said, shuffling back over to the cash register. He felt that the most appropriate thing to do in this situation was decline, as he didn¡¯t do much work at all, but he really needed the money. She handed him 50 credits, and he accepted it with a bit of a guilty consciousness.

    ¡°Thanks, Mrs. Margaret,¡± he said as he exited the shop.

    ¡°Come by on Friday. I¡¯ll have some cookies left over from my granddaughters birthday,¡± she yelled as the door closed behind him. He gave her a thumbs up and tried to ignore the sudden tension that was welling up in his chest.

    Friday was a day too far. By then, he didn¡¯t know if he¡¯s still be in this city, or if he¡¯d still be alive.

    As he walked he felt that the solution to the situation was becoming more and more clear.

    He didn¡¯t want to work for the gang. He didn¡¯t want to be chained, maybe even literally chained, by a corp. That was what he presumed would happen once they knew that they had Hunter Koar in their midst. He¡¯d thought about the treatment he¡¯d received for the brief period that law enforcement had held him, all those years ago. They hadn¡¯t cared about how he felt, and what he was going through. They didn¡¯t care about the circumstances behind his fathers death.

    From the very beginning, all they¡¯d wanted to know was what his father had been hiding, and where he might have hid it. The legacy of Gideon Koar could spell another great innovation on the scale of wireless etherium transmission¡ª a multi-billion credit venture. It could mean access to new glyphs which could spell a market advantage for years. Such a legacy outweighed the considerations of a young, grieving child¡ª nor the person who that child had grown to become.

    But what if they didn¡¯t know he was Hunter? What if he was just Jonathan Esper? His handicap might be the only distinguishing feature that could link him to the name Hunter Koar¡ª and it wasn¡¯t like he was the only one who had this condition. It wasn¡¯t exactly common, there were only a few dozen cases of it in the last few years from what he¡¯d read. The problem would be convincing them that he could work around his lack of AR.

    But where would he go?

    Which Corporation could he actually stomach working for?

    Mrs. Margaret''s words echoed in his mind.

    Oberon?

    He didn¡¯t suppress the snort, this time.

    Their standards would be too high for him to match, even if he could prove to them that his potential was worth the investment.

    But was it worth the investment? He couldn¡¯t be sure.

    He took a glance at the recreational center as he passed by. Something caught his eye. Whether it was a shape, or a color, he couldn¡¯t tell. But his attention was magnetized in a new direction almost purely by instinct.

    It was half of a poster, the other half was covered by an advertisement for some live music gig by a band he¡¯d never heard of. He tore the covering poster off, reading the contents that had caught his eye.

    It was the graphic of a drawstone in the corner, he thought. That was what had pulled his attention towards it.

    The 10th Annual Global Youth Ether Arts Competition

    Get ready for a weekend of excitement! Teams from around the world will compete for the grand prize, a corporate sponsorship to the Barnum Academy of Excellence, as well as 100,000 credits!

 Chapter 2

    He sneered, and felt tempted to roll the poster up and throw it in the trash. But there was something beneath the disgust. A strange feeling¡ª oddly familiar, yet he couldn¡¯t place it.

    He continued reading the poster.

    Preliminaries:

    Wednesday, May 13th

    Sign up for your local preliminaries today!

    It was the most curious sensation which began to arise inside of him. It was something he hadn¡¯t felt in a long, long time. At first he thought it was anxiety, but as his thoughts turned towards the outcome of winning the competition, he realized that he wasn¡¯t scared.

    He was excited.

    He shook his head. There was no way he was actually considering this. What was he going to tell them?

    ¡°Sorry, but do you have a small mountain of ether batteries I can borrow? Trust me, I¡¯m an expert.¡±

    The thing is, he was certain that if they allowed him to enter with the condition that he was allowed to use ether batteries, he could win that damn competition, and get the hell out of this city. Despite the risk, he felt like a potential avenue to freedom had opened up and he¡¯d be a fool not to take it.

    100 000 credits would go pretty far with him. Then it occurred to him that job security would also be pretty nice in the future, after the life he''d been living.

    He almost gagged at the thought.

    That wasn''t like him. Those were not the type of thoughts he tended to think.

    Was it stress? Maybe he was starting to crack under the weight of uncertainty for his future.

    He entered the rec center and talked to the person at the front desk. They gave him a pamphlet explaining more about the competition.

    Like it said on the poster, it was a team competition but the preliminaries were a knowledge test. He just had to show up, pass the test, and he¡¯d be entered into the competition for the coming weekend. But he¡¯d need to travel all the way to the Oberon Capital City to compete.

    And he¡¯d be going without a team, and he¡¯d be taking the risk of actually losing and having nowhere to go.

    Yet, the possibility of winning remained.

    The excitement that came with that thought was almost overwhelming. It was a feeling he hadn¡¯t felt in ages. He applied for the preliminary test, which would be held at the rec center at noon the next day.

    After passing, the only thing he needed to figure out was how the hell he was going to get to the main competition. He considered the 50 credits in his pocket that Mrs. Margaret had given him.

    That should be enough for a taxi, right?

    He made it home without much hassle from the street rats. They seemed disinterested in his arrival, save for a few threatening glances and one of them pointing to their watch.

    Time was ticking.

    He didn¡¯t sleep well that night. He could hear the Comics out front, a constant source of noise and annoyance until they got bored and headed home. After finally catching a few hours of sleep, Hunter had a small breakfast and reviewed some notes from his latest research until he had to leave.

    Hunter contemplated Seckina City as he walked through it on the way to the rec center. The name ¡®Seckina¡¯ was a legacy from an ancient language. Not quite as old as the Asutnahem, which was about as dead as languages got.

    Seckina. The word was supposed to mean ¡°Dauntless¡±

    What Hunter thought of when he heard the word, was stubbornness.

    Tunnel Vision.

    Ignorant obedience to a vast machine marching along at the cost of your own life.

    All sentiments he typically attribute the Council and their grand, unifying legacy. The stubborn chase for power, the inability to see beyond their egos, and utter indifference to the damage they cause to whoever gets caught up in the wake of their games.

    He¡¯d seen bureaucrats show up to Mrs. Margaret¡¯s store, voiding contracts that had years until they would expire, contracts which she and her family relied on were suddenly terminated because a competitor offered them a better deal. They didn¡¯t care about the impact of their choices, unless it was about how it would impact their reputation and back account.

    Most people wouldn¡¯t be able to get away with such a blatant disregard for written agreements. But the Council, and those connected to the Council, weren¡¯t under the same limitation as most people.

    They weren¡¯t beyond taking everything from someone who couldn¡¯t afford the loss in order to further their agendas.

    They would have found nothing on his family¡¯s old estate. Hunter had looked, after his father had died, and before they ¡®found¡¯ the bodies. Nothing of his fathers work was left. At least, not that he hadn¡¯t already given to the world.

    As he walked, he could spy the tall, sparsely placed e-towers that received and transmitted wireless etherium signals¡ª one of the legacies that his father had left behind. They were peppered throughout the city. Most businesses preferred the secure communications the ether-comms could provide compared to the alternatives. The downside of communicating along an etheric network was that although it was wireless, it required a lot of static infrastructure, and line of sight for the signal to travel across.

    Whereas most personal mobile phones could be used anywhere where there was service available. The brick-sized devices were a bit of an eyesore and a hassle to carry around, but their convenience made up for the inferior security. Besides, Hunter doubted if most people would ever need to worry about their conversations being overheard.

    It was the people with things to hide, and things to lose, who decided to invest in gaining access to the e-tower network. His father once had sole ownership of those towers, now he could see a bunch of different logos painting across their long cylindrical surfaces.

    LockeMark Industries, the Lumina Company, and the Pacific Shield. Three out of the five megacorporation''s who owned the world, and the realms beyond it. And he presumed they were the three corporations who were most likely to have conspired against his family. He would bet all 50 credits in his pocket that they were behind the explosion which had ended his fathers life.

    His father never gave into their demands, and always rejected their offers. He built the network himself, found high-level, independent investors who wanted an income stream aside from their parent companies. With their seed money, and a grand vision, Gideon Koar had started his own iconic company. The Council was jealous of such a pig living among them which they could not directly influence. So, Hunter guessed, they took action to ensure that their dominance was absolute. His fathers¡¯ company was absorbed along with all land that the Koar name had held. Every credit his father had saved now belonged to companies who already had more money than they could ever spend.

    As far as he could tell, Oberon wasn¡¯t in on the council¡¯s plot. However, as a council seat, there was no way that Trey Oberon could avoid accountability. As far as Hunter was concerned, Oberon Enterprises and Smith Transports were just as complicit whether they had a hand in it or not. Knowing and not doing anything about it made them guilty, and there¡¯s no way they wouldn¡¯t have known.

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    Of course they¡¯d known. They¡¯re Council Seats. You don¡¯t rise to the top of the pile of money-hungry pigs by being a saint, or ignorant. You consume all the other smaller pigs, and make deals the other bigger pigs to make sure your reign can¡¯t be challenged. That being said, if it came down to a choice between which companies he¡¯d throw in his hat with, Oberon and Smith would be the main contenders, if only for the fact that they didn¡¯t smother their branding all over whatever remained of his fathers work.

    That was the deciding factor. He¡¯d almost convinced himself not to come this morning, telling himself that he should either run away or join the gang. Too much could go wrong. He could have totally underestimated the competition. What if the test touched on something he¡¯d only be familiar with had he attended a school? What if they decided that his AR was too low for him to be taken seriously?

    What if he grew too tired, too fast? His physical weakness made it a real possibility. What if he he couldn¡¯t even compete?

    Then he reminded himself that he has some advantages that the other contestants didn¡¯t. Unlike them, he¡¯s been able to devote the majority of his young life to etherium and constructs. He could probably match most experts in the field in terms of knowledge.

    He also had very little to lose, all things considered.

    Coming up to the rec center he was surprised to find a line out the door. Eavesdropping on the conversations around him revealed that they were all here for the same reason he was. They all appeared to be around his age, and were most of them were graduating this year. It made sense, now would be the perfect time to gain a corporations attention. Even if they didn''t win, there is no way Oberon would let young talent go so easily, right?

    He found the thought oddly comforting. And for a moment he was disgusted with himself.

    Is this how easy it was for his sense of integrity to be challenged?

    A moment ago he was cursing the existence of all corporations, and suddenly he was seriously considering a future with one¡ª and to the point of worrying over whether or not he would be worthy enough to gain their attention or favor.

    But what was the alternative?

    He decided that overthinking it too would only serve to stress him out. What would serve him now was reviewing what he did know, and what he could do. Basic schema, formula lists, the ever-growing combinations of synergies that he treasured as the greatest work of his young life, they all flashed through his mind as he took an inventory.

    And he realize he was coming up against another potential problem. Just how much exactly did he know about synergies compared to these hopeful students around him? Compared to his peers? How stunted was his education? What if some of his synergies he''d so prided himself on discovering were considered common knowledge? The library wasn''t necessarily an artisan¡¯s wonderland. Compared to most industries, ether artisanry was still considered relatively niche and emergent.

    The best approach was to be careful. If he revealed too much, maybe certain questions would be asked about Jonathan Esper that would lead to the discovery of Hunter Koar.

    He thought that the only way to ensure he safely passed the test was to underperform. Yet that circled back around to the original problem. His information was lacking. He was certain he¡¯d probably read all the right information at some point. Somewhere in his mind, were all the relevant names, dates, and events he would need to memorize for the test.

    But where would he even begin? He didn¡¯t have time to go to the library and refresh his knowledge. There was too much to go through.

    Yet he still felt this was all worth the risk.

    It was his turn to approach the front desk. They directed him to the gymnasium where the test was being held. He walked down a long, silent corridor. His steps echoing slightly. A soft murmur began to intrude in the silence. Signs appeared pointing the way down a few branching hallways towards his destination. The murmuring grew into a wall of voices. Hunter hadn¡¯t heard so many people together in the same place for years.

    The gymnasium was more packed than he''d expected. What must have been more than a hundred tables were ordered throughout the gym, all facing the same direction. Were there really so many young artisans in Seckina? Maybe they were also from some of the surrounding towns. An annual contest like this might be a big enough deal to attract a lot of attention. An attendant at the gymnasium door directed him towards a seat. Within minutes the rest of the seats were filled.

    A woman appeared at the front of the gymnasium. She was a bit older, had blonde hair and kind eyes, but with that unmistakable pride of a corporate cut-out.

    ¡°Hello, welcome to the annual Youth Ether Artisan competition preliminary test. My name is Joyce, and I''ll be one of the 4 Oberon representatives marking your preliminary tests. The test is 80 questions long, and time to completion will factor into your score. This year¡¯s test will be a bit more challenging than previous years, and will require a score of 95 percent in order to pass,¡± Joyce said, barely pausing at the chorus of gasps arising in response to her announcement.

    ¡°The offered sponsorship to the Barnum Academy of Excellence has only occurred af few times in the history of the Youth Etherium Arts Competition, and the requirements for those years have always risen. This year, only the best of the best will be allowed to compete for the chance of a lifetime. Does that answer your questions?¡± Joyce asked the murmuring youths spread out before her.

    ¡°Now, you will have a total of 1 hour to complete the test. I and a few others will be watching closely to ensure that there is no cheating. Any questions?¡±

    Oddly enough, there were a few questions. Such as, ¡®will there be half marks?¡¯ which made no sense to Hunter. Who would grade a question as half right? What kind of insane calculus did they use to determine that a question was over 50 percent correct?

    Absurd.

    What if it was over 50 percent right?

    Hunter was curious about the test. The last test he¡¯d taken must have been over 6 years ago¡ª he¡¯d already stopped going to school before his father had died and the estate was taken from him.

    It had been a mathematics quiz. Multiplication. He remembered doing very well. By the time most of his class was struggling with learning basic algebra, he was working on memorizing construct schematics, and trying to supplement his lacking education in his spare time at the library.

    It was the school environment itself that he found himself ill suited towards, but not learning. He loved to learn.

    This test felt a bit nostalgic to Hunter, but the intensity wasn¡¯t lost on him. He could see jaws clenched and brows furrowed as the pressure to perform rose in the people around him. The test seemed a lot more daunting than it had a few minutes ago.

    The tests were handed out, a small stack of paper stapled in the upper left hand corner. There was a space for Hunter to write his name and the table he was sitting at, as well as the date the test was being taken.

    There were a few questions where he felt that he couldn¡¯t get around sharing his synergies, and he justified it by telling himself that they were too obvious not to use. In those cases, they were probably the expected answer.

    And if they weren¡¯t, he¡¯d just say that he¡¯d done a few experiments in his own time and had found a few new glyph combinations that worked out pretty well.

    Apart from that, the test was a breeze. He only struggled on some of the more academic questions. There were a lot of names he didn¡¯t recognize, but he did his best to deduce what the question was asking him based on the information given.

    In the multiple choice portion, when he came across this situation, more often than not the answers themselves would offer enough information regarding the subject what the question was aimed at.

    Sometimes, he¡¯d be stumped, so he¡¯d just circle ¡®C¡¯.

    The written portion was more about describing the logic behind choosing one design element over another. In some cases it described seemingly arbitrary glyph choices, which Hunter could dissect and understand immediately.

    All in all, the multiple choice portion was the most difficult, and comprised most of the test. He was finished in 40 minutes. He walked to the front of the room and deposited his test. He wasn¡¯t the first to complete it, but he reckoned he was among the first 10. He was surprised by how challening it was. He also felt relieved. Although there were some specific gaps in his knowledge that he¡¯d identified, they were far less than he¡¯d feared.

    As Hunter turned to walk back to his desk, he caught the test he¡¯d submitted out of the corner of his eye and froze. He felt weak, and the room seemed singnificantly hotter than it had just a moment ago.

    On the top left hand corner, was his real name¡ª there for all the world to see.

    Calm down, he told himself. Breathing deep and slow, he considered his options.

    There were only two that appealed to him.

    The first one was to leave, and forget this ever happened. Leave the city and find a way to survive, somewhere, somehow. Maybe a farming community would take him in without asking too many questions. He could maintain their constructs in exchange for a place to live.

    The second was absolute insanity, but it awoke something inside of him that Hunter was surprised to find.

    The urge was dangerous. An reflexive itch. A crazy, reckless compulsion that Hunter already knew he was going to follow, because that¡¯s what he did when this feeling came up.

    So, he said ¡®fuck it.¡¯

    Hunter Koar.

    Table 47

    Based on his experience, he had absolutely no way of identifying how well he did. He¡¯d had to make too many guesses. Now, all he had to do was wait until the results were announced. Worst case scenario, his name would be recognized, the corps would be notified, and he¡¯d be dragged away and never see the light of day again.

    Best case, he would pass and they wouldn¡¯t recognize his name.

    There were a few other degrees of positive and negative between those two, as well.

    The latter case felt unlikely to him. He had registered as Jonathan Esper, but had taken the test as Hunter Koar. He imagined that wouldn¡¯t go down very well once he was caught.

    But he decided to stick around anyways. He had nowhere else to go¡ª unless he wanted to go home and deal with the street rats.

    Whether he passed or failed, only time would tell, and Hunter felt surprised at himself for not really caring anymore. Once the urge to throw caution to the wind had left him, he¡¯d expected some sort of anxiety to creep up.

    When he analyzed what he was feeling, all he felt was a deep sense of being tired. He was tired of hiding. He was tired of being tired.

    One way or another, his fate would be decided today.

 Chapter 3

    Joyce rang a small bell at the front of the gymnasium, the people who hadn¡¯t completed the test sighed, their postures deflated. That latter reaction earned a frown from Joyce, who announced that those who didn¡¯t complete their tests should still hand them in for marking, especially if they only had a few questions left. There was still a possibility that they could receive a passing grade.

    Hunter admired the woman¡¯s poise. He¡¯d never admit it out loud, but the sheer stoic disregard that corpos seem trained to exude in so many situations was something that he envied. He wished he could face all of his problems with the focus and unwavering self interest that they could.

    But he considered himself to be a good person¡ª a better person than he would have been had he stayed in school, had his father never died, and had Council never taken away everything that was rightfully his.

    Not that they¡¯d taken away everything. His mind flashed to a small metal briefcase, sealed so strongly that in all of these years he¡¯d never been able to open it. The briefcase had arrived at his doorstep, under mysterious circumstances. He recognized it immediately, he had seen it before, in his fathers lab. He recognized the faded logo of the company that made it, he recognized the bumps, scrapes, and nicks along its surface. He recognized the failed attempt to erase the permanent marker Hunter had applied to it when he was too young to understand what he was doing.

    The locking mechanism required a passcode that he had yet to guess.

    He had no idea what the briefcase contained. Maybe evidence of the Council¡¯s plot against his father? The timing was a bit suspect, wasn¡¯t it? Maybe it was from his mysterious benefactor, playing some mental game, or trying to see if Hunter would open it and reveal some secret that they hadn¡¯t been able to pry out of it. The possibility of that seemed faint. It wouldn¡¯t have been hard for someone with enough strength, or the right tools, to open it.

    Hunter¡¯s involvement wouldn¡¯t even be necessary.

    Thus, the mystery remained. So far, no one had come to claim it from him.

    Joyce rang the bell again, breaking Hunter out of his thoughts.

    ¡°We estimate that it will take approximately two hours to mark all of the tests. You are all free to stay until then, but feel free to leave and come back later to receive your result, which will be posted on the wall behind me,¡± she said, turning and waving towards a corkboard behind her.

    Hunter had nowhere to go. He was hungry, but he figured that he needed to save what money he had in order to get a ride to the Oberon capital. He¡¯d need to bring some of his stuff with him, tools he¡¯d designed to make his artisanry with ether batteries more efficient. He didn¡¯t have a hope of winning without them.

    He sat down in a corner and decided that that¡¯s where he¡¯d wait for the next two hours. With nothing else to do, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, diving deep into his mind where he kept all of his synergies memorized.

    Over the years it had grown extensive. He had personally discovered certain glyphs, like his father had. Nothing as significant as the Link sub-glyph, of course. But certain alterations of well known glyphs that work more efficiently with other glyphs, that corresponded to different elements. He also had lists of different elemental circuits that could create a more efficient flow of ether in a construct.

    Once Hunter understood that ether had ¡®desires¡¯, he found that it was easier to channel it in certain ends. If you forced it to interact with an element, or ¡®charge¡¯ that it didn¡¯t desire to interact with, the output would be much less potent. It would take more input to achieve far less output than you could be getting if you followed the etherium¡¯s desire.

    So far, he¡¯d started to gain some insight into the notion of defusing etherium¡¯s desires. One problem with complex etherium networks was that inefficiencies tended to stack. The multiplier wasn¡¯t incredibly significant, but if you could defuse certain elemental charges, or ¡®return¡¯ them to a previous state of desire, you could regain some efficiency in the etherium¡¯s flow. At least, that was Hunter¡¯s hypothesis.

    He¡¯d not been able to discover the mechanism behind how the desires and the elemental charge of etherium was linked. It could have been the same phenomena, the element was the desire, but that was just a guess. He would need a lot more time, and a lot more data in order to understand what he needed to in order to progress. But once he did, he intuited that it would open the door to even more possibilities.

    And, he reminded himself, those possibilities hinged on whether or not he passed this test, today. Otherwise, in all probability, he would be dead or owned by the Comics. A fate worse than death, in his opinion. He doubted they¡¯d let him continue his research in peace. He would lose all freedom to pursue his own interests.

    He needed this win.

    He owed it to himself, and his work.

    The first hour passed very quickly, but the second hour felt like it stretched ever onwards. He decided that he would spend the rest of the time walking around the rec center. He wondered if he could find any snacks.

    To his surprise, after exploring for a bit, he found a few pastries.

    <hr>

    ¡°Boss, I''ve got a bit of a problem,¡± Vin said, waving Joyce over. Joyce raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°You mark it either right or wrong, Vin,¡± Joyce said as she made her way over to him.

    Vin snorted.

    ¡°No, the problem is that the name registered to desk 47 doesn¡¯t match the name on the test that was handed in,¡± he said, handing her the test and pointing to the printout of registered names and the desks they were assigned to.

    ¡°See?¡± he said, pointing to the printout, ¡°desk 47. Jonathan Esper. And if you look at the name of the test¡­¡±

    Joyce read the name, and then read it again. Her heart skipped a beat. She handed the test back and pursed her lips.

    She did her best not to take a deep breath, and wipe her hands on her blazer.

    ¡°Did they pass?¡± she asked Vin. His job wasn¡¯t to mark the tests, it was to verify that the marks were accurate and that the participants were who they said they were.

    Vin shook his head.

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°Some of these answers are sheer nonsense, never mind the abysmal multiple choice score,¡± he said, flipping through the pages. He found an answer to one of the written questions and handed it to her.

    ¡°It looks like he just made up whatever came to mind and thought we wouldn¡¯t notice. I don¡¯t know, feels like he¡¯s some troll who took the test to waste somebody¡¯s time. Not like it isn¡¯t the first time it¡¯s happened, just some kid with nothing better to do,¡± Vin said.

    Joyce looked over the question.

    You have a pallet with 80 pounds of product stacked on top of it. The pallet needs to be lifted and moved to another location 10 meters away. Design a stationary etherium construct to lift the cargo and move it.

    Joyce recognized the question. It seemed simple on the surface but many would find that pulling is much more difficult than pushing, when constructs were concerned. The glyphs used by Hunter Koar, a name she never thought she¡¯d see again¡ª and to be honest she wasn¡¯t sure if she should report it immediately¡ª were almost correct, but they all seemed different than how they were standardly depicted. And the network syntax, the underlying architecture that directed the flow of etherium, was unique.

    She¡¯d never seen it before, at least not in this context. One of the glyphs appeared normal, but it was out of place, it was right at the end of the networked glyphs, instead of near the beginning where it ought to be.

    If it was anyone else, she¡¯d dismiss it out of hand completely. And she needed to be certain that this was indeed the Hunter Koar. The name ¡°Koar¡± wasn¡¯t unique to Gideon¡¯s lineage. There were a few seperate Koar family¡¯s in the world. Some had changed their name legally¡ª in admiration and envy¡ª after Gideon Koar rose to fame,

    Some of those might have named their child after Gideon¡¯s kid, following the spirit of obsession.

    But if it was Gideon¡¯s kid, then these answers couldn¡¯t be dismissed out of hand. She needed to verify them¡ª and then figure out what it meant. Both for her, the competition, and for Oberon.

    Etherium constructs weren¡¯t like any other system. Sure, there were many hypothetical ways to achieve a similar end result, but so far, the known formulas for glyph networks were extremely rigid. Artisans would have to experiment for years to find a new glyph pair that worked, let alone an entirely novel network syntax. The very nature of etherium was mystery. Its substance and depths were hidden to mankind.

    They were groping in the dark for any sense of progress, and when progress was made, no one could tell exactly what it meant, and exactly what it reveald about etherium itself. It was simultaneously the most mystical, fantastic, and frustrating field of study in the world.

    And along comes Gideon Koar to make great strides that dwarfed the efforts of previous generations. The name Hunter Koar could mean many things¡ª fraud, a bad joke, or a potential infusion of vitality into her career. Not that she needed it.

    But who would say not to such a juicy opportunity, practically walking itself into their lap?

    It was probably nothing. Like Vin had said, just another troll. A Koar namesake with delusions of granduer and an inability to humble themselves.

    In that case, Joyce would do them the good grace of humbling them herself, and then she would report them to the authorities, who would probably charge them a hefty fine.

    She would wait to hand out the result herself.

    But before that, she would indulge her curiosity regarding the construct design which ¡®Hunter¡¯ had submitted in this answer, and if it worked she would entertain the notion of taking him seriously. She couldn¡¯t do it herself, but she did know someone who could.

    She walked down to the reception desk with Hunters¡¯ test in hand. She faxed the pages in question to someone she knew in the Oberon Artisanal Research Division. He was an eccentric sort, but was always willing to indulge his and others curiosity about new etheric possibilities. After she faxed the pages over, she gave him a call.

    The mobile phone sported such an awkward design, one which she was glad her company was attempting to remedy. Oberon Enterprises was working on a more advanced product, something a bit smaller, its design a bit more aesthetically pleasing and easier to hold in the hand. She¡¯d seen the prototype, and it was already a vast improvement over this giant grey brick.

    She dialed her friend¡¯s number as she walked back to the small office space the recreation center had given them in order to mark the tests. After a minute of waiting she was about to hang up before he answered.

    ¡°I¡¯m very busy, today. Whatever it is, it better be important,¡± Paulov said. His accent making his words seem sharp and aggressive, but Joyce knew the man well. They joined the company around the same time and had collaborated many times.

    ¡°Have you checked your fax?¡± Joyce asked.

    ¡°Why would I do that?¡± Paulov asked.

    ¡°I need you to verify something for me. An exciting possibility if it pans out, but there¡¯s also the chance that it could be nothing. A waste of time,¡± she said. Bait, and hook.

    ¡°What kind of exciting possibility?¡± Paulov asked. Joyce smiled.

    ¡°The kind that could mean a totally new construct architecture with a strange networking syntax,¡± she said.

    Paulov made a noise that could have been humming, but could have also been murmuring.

    ¡°What was that?¡± she asked.

    ¡°You¡¯re right, probably a waste of time,¡± he said. When he didn¡¯t hang up, she knew he¡¯d give it a look.

    ¡°Probably. I need to know within the the next half hour.¡±

    Paulov said something in his native language.

    ¡°I did say I was busy, didn¡¯t I? Fine. You owe me,¡± then he hung up. She reached the office just in time to see the team finishing the last few tests. She told Vin to wait another 30 minutes or so before they announced the results. He shrugged and glanced at the test in her hand, which he had handed to her a few minutes earlier.

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± she said, hoping to change the subject before he decided he was curious enough to ask any questions, ¡°just verifying something. How¡¯d everyone do?¡±

    He shrugged.

    ¡°Just over 15 percent made it through, i¡¯d say. More passing results than I¡¯d expected this far from the capital. Looks like its going to be a very competitive year,¡± Vin said.

    Joyce whistled.

    ¡°How many of those were full teams?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Hard to say,¡± Vin said, ¡°it¡¯s not like they need to inform us who who they¡¯re teaming up with in order to take the preliminary test.¡±

    Joyce nodded.

    ¡°I¡¯ll let you know when you can post the results. It shouldn¡¯t be too long now,¡± she said. Vin shrugged again.

    ¡°You¡¯re the boss.¡±

    She smiled. Vin was ambitious, but he knew when to push and when to listen. He¡¯d want her job one day¡ª which extended far beyond supervising preliminary tests. But this wasn¡¯t the right time to challenge her authority or competence, not that it would matter. She had a stellar track record, and that earned her some leeway in her decision making process. For instance, deciding to extend the marking period by half an hour for no apparent reason.

    Her superiors wouldn¡¯t care.

    Especially if she managed to make a connection with the son of Gideon Koar.

    They all had orders to make sure the kid wasn¡¯t bothered by other corporations. They were explicitly told not to make Hunters¡¯ life difficult, or bring much attention to him, if they were to ever cross paths with him.

    But this was different. If this was him, then he was all but announcing himself to the world, and that gave her an opportunity to fulfill the spirit of the orders, if not the explicit word. If he wanted to be seen, then Joyce might as well take the opportunity he handed to her. She could help him along his journey, and increase her esteem among her colleagues.

    And if it wasn¡¯t Gideon¡¯s son, then all she¡¯s done is her due dilligence, rooting out trouble and enforcing the integrity of a Seated Council Corporation.

    Either way, she wins.

    <hr>

    The two hours was up. After getting something to eat, it was almost like he blinked the final half our away. He approached the gymnasium and found a small crowd had gathered before the closed doors, those who were waiting for the test results to be announced.

    Hunter found a spot in the hallway and waited for the gymnasium doors to open. When 20 minutes passed, he was wondering what was taking them so long.

    Another few minutes passed. The others started to complain. Some even knocked on the gym doors, and their friends¡ª or Hunter assumed they were all friends, laughed.

    He started feeling nervous. He managed to push it away while he waited, but now it was obvious, the tension growing in his chest, in his gut, in his jaw.

    He hadnt felt nervous about a test in years. He was confident that he did alright, not that he could back that feeling up with anything concrete, but the doubts still managed to surface. His whole life was devoted to etherium, to constructs.

    If he wasn¡¯t confident about the results, who would be?

    And there weren¡¯t just doubts about the results, but also about how much he might have revealed. He treasured his research, he treasured how it set him apart. One day, he would be exploring the worlds beyond Sanctuary, using his unique knowledge to solve unique problems. He would do it his way and make a name for himself like his father had.

    He¡¯d be a visionary.

 Chapter 4

    He imagined his fathers face. Stalwart, focused, displaying an unbreakable will. Gideon Koar had been a revolutionary figure, who reshaped the worlds relationship to etherium, expanding the potential of the field so drastically that it might change the course of civilization.

    Electronics and information technology were dominating the world. Etherium constructs used to be a niche product with very limited usage. Now, constructs were everywhere. Communication, transportation, heavy labor, and defense technologies had emerged in abundance after the contributions that people like his father had made. Etherium could be used to perform feats that the standard model of physics couldn¡¯t explain.

    Hunter wanted another revolution. He wanted etherium and electricity to be mentioned in the same breath. There were things that computing technologies could do that etherium constructs couldn¡¯t. But etherium constructs could be used to dramatically increase the efficiency of computers¡ª both personal computers and corporate-owned servers. Being able to cool a server room by 50 degrees without increasing your electricity bill was worth the investment. At least, that¡¯s how he would sell it if he had to.

    Another example were the etherium-assisted forklifts he had contemplated the previous day. Primarily electric, but with etheric assistance to lift much heavier loads at a much lower price point than was typically available before.

    Most people were already using drawstone''s daily to increase their affinity, and thereby growing stronger and healthier. He imagined that constructs becoming more widely accessible and relevant to day-to-day life would be a welcome change by everyone.

    What depths could Hunter uncover? How much would he be able to accomplish in his lifetime, if given the opportunity to truly explore etherium and its applications to his hearts content?

    He itched to get back to his notes, to his work. That combined with the nerves of waiting almost made him turn around and head home to bury himself in a project.

    That only made him more frustrated, that urge to retreat and bow before a lesser fate than he thought he was worthy of. But he wasn¡¯t about to let himself be pulled along by this train of thought any longer than necessary.

    Tomorrow, he would need to give his answer to the Comics. He planned on being in a completely different city by then, one way or another. His absence would be his answer, and his degrees of freedom as well as the status of his research, would be determined by what happened next.

    As if on queue, the doors to the gymnasium started to open. Excited chatter broke out among the assembled youths. More had appeared over the last little while, it seemed that most of the preliminary hopefuls had elected to stick around for their results.

    All of their ID¡¯s were checked as they entered, and as soon as Hunter showed his ID, the man checking it rose his eyebrows. He waved someone else over, a thin man with a thin mustache and thinning hair.

    ¡°Come with me,¡± the man said. Hunters palms started to sweat and he gulped. He figured he didn¡¯t have much of a choice at this point. He could bolt, but he¡¯d made his choice when he decided to complete the test.

    Hunter was led through a door at the other side of the gymnasium, and then to a small office space. He recognized Joyce in there, writing something at a desk to the side of the room, away from the cubicles. She exuded the authority of someone who was used to being in charge, and the folding desk between them could have been made of heavy oak, finished to a shine.

    She had recognized his name. There was no other reason why they¡¯d drag him here away from the rest of the other participants.

    This was it.

    ¡°Sit down, please, Mr. Esper,¡± Joyce said with a smile, ¡°Or is it Mr. Koar?¡±

    Hunter rubbed at his chest, hoping that it would somehow dispel the burning tension that had been building up over the last little while. He sat and Joyce offered him her hand. He realized his hands were shaking slightly and he grasped her hand and shook it.

    ¡°Koar,¡± Hunter said, ¡°Ah, Hunter. Hunter Koar.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s get straight to the matter at hand, Mr. Koar,¡± Joyce said, the smile slowly vanishing and replaced by something more familiar. Cold, stoic, indifferent.

    Hunter sighed. He reminded himself that he didn¡¯t have anything to hide, and that helped with the nerves.

    ¡°You are something of a mystery to me, Hunter,¡± Joyce said, ¡°The first thing to get out of the way is the fact that you failed the preliminary test.¡±

    Hunters heart dropped to his gut. .

    He¡¯d failed? A knowledge test about etherium?

    Of course he¡¯d known it was a possibility.

    A vanishingly small possibility. Then again, where had his confidence come from? Sure, he had years of experience grinding out a living with constructs, but he¡¯s always known that he was something of an oddity in the field.

    ¡°Was it the multiple choice questions?¡± He asked, already knowing the answer. His written answers weren¡¯t wrong, they were incredibly simple and were all solutions that he¡¯d used for years. They weren¡¯t even that complex.

    ¡°Among other things,¡± Joyce said, ¡°some of your written answers were¡ª let¡¯s say that they¡¯re creative, to say the least. We knew that under the seeming simplicity of the question was a very complex problem that would challenge most of the youths who encountered it. There¡¯s a reason why we call it a test.¡±

    Hunter shook his head.

    ¡°No,¡± he said, ¡°The solution to those questions were simple. All of my submitted answers will work if you take the time to verify them.¡±

    Except for a couple where he had to reference things he barely remembered, specific theory names and who they were associated with.

    ¡°The designs, at least,¡± he amended.

    She looked at him with a keen interest, now.

    ¡°You know, that was what lead me to the idea of entertaining this little meeting of ours. My colleagues here who marked your test, and the one who double-checked the marking, both commented on how absurd your solutions were,¡± she said, studying his face.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    He didn¡¯t bother hiding his reaction to her words. He sneered.

    ¡°Then your colleagues are morons,¡± he said. The familiar disdain felt like a balm to his nerves. If they couldn¡¯t recognize the simplest solution to the test¡¯s problems, then they weren¡¯t artisans.

    ¡°Careful, Hunter. I¡¯ve worked with those ¡®morons¡¯ for years. They are quite competent, or else they wouldn¡¯t have been selected for this job,¡± she said, her voice deepening slightly.

    Hunter took a deep breath.

    ¡°Look, as I said, if you take the time to verify my answers yourself, you¡¯ll see that they work. I should have passed this test.¡±

    She shook her head.

    ¡°No, even if you got those answers right, it wouldn¡¯t have made up for the amount of questions you got wrong in the multiple choice section.¡±

    Hunter felt his future slipping away from him. A familiar sense of exhaustion began to work its way through his limbs.

    ¡°I see,¡± he said, ¡°so what does this mean? Why¡¯d you bring me in here?¡±

    ¡°I wanted to get a good look at you. I recognize your name, Hunter. Of course, you¡¯re not the only Hunter Koar in the world, but even the small possibility that you are the son of the infamous Gideon Koar meant that your solution couldn¡¯t be dismissed out of hand, could it?¡±

    Hunter shrugged.

    ¡°So you know who I am. What are you going to do?¡± He asked, afraid he knew the answer.

    ¡°Let me finish, young man. So I did as you suggested, I called a friend of mine to verify the answers of your test. He had some very colorful words to say about your submissions,¡± she said, smirking.

    The flame of hope that had recently died must have had some small ember remaining, and he could feel it struggling to stay alive within him.

    ¡°I quote, ¡®utterly illogical, confounding, and nonsensical, yet somehow it works,¡¯ he went on to ask about the identity of the genius who managed to develop an entirely new formula for such an old problem,¡± she said. Hunter raised an eyebrow.

    He knew he had a gift for etherium, but the solution he¡¯d provided was hardly genius.

    Was it? He realized he honestly couldn¡¯t tell. It wasn¡¯t as if he¡¯d never considered whether his use of glyphs had drifted far from what most experts would be familiar with.

    He definitely wouldn¡¯t ascribe the word genius to something so simple. But from what he understood about other artisans and researchers in the field, they found progress to be much more difficult than Hunter did, and Hunter found the whole process to be incredibly vague and frustrating, himself.

    His level of success came from sheer obsession and persistence. Most hours of his waking life were taken up by either researching glyphs, synergies, and designing or fixing constructs in order to support himself. Genius had nothing to do with it.

    ¡°I told him your identity was a sensitive matter. He wasn¡¯t happy with not knowing, he gets quite passionate about artisanry. A brilliant man, highly driven. You might meet him one day.¡±

    Her choice of words fed the ember of hope into a small flame, once more. It must have shown on his face, because she smiled.

    ¡°Hunter, you failed the test and lied about your identity. By all rights, you should be on your way home with a large fine and a black mark on your public record,¡± she said, ¡°not to mention the fact that you¡¯ve openly identified yourself. Do you understand what that means?¡±

    Hunter nodded.

    ¡°I do,¡± he sighed, ¡°it was honestly a mistake. I hadn¡¯t realized i¡¯d written my real name until it was too late, but I couldn¡¯t afford not to pass this test. I decided that my true identity being discovered was worth the sacrifice if I could win the competition.¡±

    Joyce nodded, a look of concern appearing on her face. He almost believed it was genuine.

    ¡°Even if you did pass the test, and were admitted into the competition, would you even be able to compete?¡± She asked. Hunter thought she knew what she was really asking.

    ¡°My affinity rating ,¡± he said. She nodded.

    ¡°I don¡¯t recall any specifics, but I do remember hearing that you had some sort of handicap. Has that been resolved?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Hunter said, ¡°But I¡¯ve found ways around my deficiency. I can use ether batteries as a substitute.¡±

    ¡°Ether batteries? That makes some sense. I imagine it must take a long time to get anything done, though. You do understand that there are time constraints for the rounds of this competition, correct? And you would be up against teams from all over the world, teams that will have no problem outpacing you during some very demanding trials,¡± she said.

    Hunter nodded. He crossed his hands and looked her in the eyes.

    She hadn¡¯t kicked him out yet. She was listening to him, and something in her tone gave rise to an exciting possibility.

    She might be willing to let him pass, in spite of his failing grade.

    ¡°I understand. But if I have developed ways to increase my efficiency, as a matter of necessity. If I can get my workflow approved, I promise that I¡¯ll be able to keep up with whoever i¡¯m up against,¡± he said.

    ¡°I¡¯ll cut to the chase, Hunter. I¡¯m willing to help you out. At this point, i¡¯m mostly convinced that you are who you say you are, but I need some more proof. I¡¯m excited by the possibility of reintroducing the Koar heir to the world, especially if you¡¯ve decided to follow in your fathers footsteps,¡± she said, then paled as she realized what she¡¯d just said.

    ¡°I mean, in pursuing your passion, of course,¡± she corrected, ¡°I¡¯m sorry Hunter. That was a poor choice of words.

    He cleared his throat, suppressing the frustration that arose.

    He could tell her that his father was a good man, that he¡¯d never do the things that the Council had accused him of.

    But she probably wouldn¡¯t listen.

    ¡°Do you mean you¡¯re willing to let me pass the preliminary test?¡± He asked.

    She smiled.

    ¡°If you can prove you are who you say you are,¡± she said.

    ¡°Ask me anything,¡± Hunter said.

    ¡°Why¡¯d you perform so poorly in the test? I imagine someone who has obviously devoted so much time to this field would have no problem passing,¡± she said.

    Hunter shrugged.

    ¡°I dropped out of school even before my dad died. After the Council took everything away, I didn¡¯t have much of a reason to attend a school, I was way too busy trying to put food on the table,¡± he said.

    She frowned.

    ¡°How long ago was that? When you first dropped out¡± She asked. Hunter shrugged again.

    ¡°About 6 years ago,¡± he said, and anticipated her next question, ¡°I think I was 10 when I stopped going to classes.¡±

    She hummed in response.

    ¡°A 6 year gap in your education isn¡¯t insignificant, Hunter. But your answers reveal that you have a great deal of knowledge about artisanry and its history. I assume you¡¯ve taken the time to educate yourself?¡±

    Hunter nodded.

    ¡°School sucked. Learning isn¡¯t so bad, though. I realized that if I wanted to make any sort of life for myself, I would need to know things. And I might as well start with what I was the most interested in,¡± he said.

    She nodded, and smiled. The answer seemed to satisfy her.

    ¡°Where did you go to school?¡± She asked.

    ¡°Verity Public Elementary, eastward from here but still in the Oberon Domain. Near the Capital.¡±

    ¡°Do you remember any of your teachers names? Names of old friends? Anything to help me confirm your identity? I did tell you why this is important, right?¡±

    Hunter searched for any memory he had of those days, days that he¡¯d suppressed for years. A few names stood out, significant events. The name of the principle, his first grade teacher, and some people he used to get along with before his Affinity score was publicized and they decided he was too much of an oddball to hang out with anymore.

    Hunter sighed. He told enough to satisfy her curiosity, and filled her in on some of the details about how he¡¯d been living his life over the last little while, and the situation he¡¯d found himself caught in.

    She considered him for a brief second after she was done taking notes.

    ¡°You say you need to give them the answer tomorrow, these ¡®Comics¡¯?¡±

    Hunter nodded.

    ¡°I tell you what, if your information checks out¡ª and at this point it just feels like a formality, i¡¯ll have someone come to pick you up at your address tonight. I think I can call in a favor or two to get you a place to stay in the Capital during the competition,¡± she said.

    Those were magic words to Hunters ears. He could feel tears welling up and he tried his best to blink them away.

    ¡°Just like that?¡± he asked, his voice wavering. It was ridiculous. It was just a test.

    ¡°Just like that,¡± she said, pulling over a sheet of paper and writing something down.

    ¡°Done,¡± she said, ¡°Hunter Koar has officially passed the preliminary qualification test.¡±

    The tension that had once been burning in his chest was now an expanding feeling of elation and relief.

    ¡°I¡¯ll put in a word with a friend, we¡¯ll get your workflow approved. I bet the competition organizers would jump at the chance. You know how it is, enabling the disempowered and so on. No offense,¡± she said.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take an advantage where I can find it,¡± Hunter answered, still processing what just happened.

    He¡¯d done it. He was set to attend the competition. He was one step closer to a new life.

    Now all he had to do was win one of the most competitive competitions in the world, alone, with a severe handicap.

 Chapter 5

    Before Hunter headed home, he stopped by Mrs. Margaret''s, letting her know that he would be gone for a while. She gave him a big hug and told him that she really appreciated all of the work he had done for her, and that he had made her life much easier.

    They laughed over how they¡¯d first met, Hunter was barely 12 years old at the time and had told them that his dad was an artisan who had just moved to the city and was looking for work. He asked them how much they usually pay for artisans, and said he¡¯d do it for half the price. They were skeptical at first, but Hunter said he¡¯d do the first job for free. He¡¯d been taken advantage of a couple of times before that. Rejection was a familiar friend by then, he knew that the sting would fade. But rejection and deception were different. Rejection stung, but deception felt deeper. It was hard to stay motivated. He was about to give up and try to find another strategy when he finally came across Mrs. Margaret''s shop.

    But people like Mrs. Margaret and her family had been good to Hunter. Good enough that it encouraged him to continue looking for new clients. Soon enough, Hunter had at least two small jobs a week, which would be enough to feed himself. By the time he had to start paying rent for the house, he had more than enough jobs to keep him going. It all started here, at this toy store.

    Hunter was touched by the reminiscing, and it reminded him of how strong he could be when it counted. It also reminded him that it was important to have good people to rely on in hard times. Where Hunter was going he had no one. He would be starting from scratch. But he knew that ruminating over what he would be losing wouldn¡¯t do him any good. He¡¯d had a few moments like that over the last few years and was trying his best to avoid a self-sabotaging spiral. He had to stay positive.

    Hunter wanted to stick around for a bit longer and make sure that all of Mrs. Margaret''s constructs were in good shape, but he didn¡¯t have much time. Before he walked out the door, she handed him another 50 credits and told himself to come and visit if he ever came by their part of the city in the future. She assured him that the store wouldn¡¯t be going anywhere so long as she was still alive to fight for it.He needed to get home and pack, tonight he would leave for the Capital. The competition was going to be difficult, but he wasn¡¯t worried.

    Before sending him off, Joyce had told him that the competition was going to be focused exclusively on designing and creating constructs. The first round would be about pushing their fundamentals to their limit, while the next two rounds would be about pushing the teams creativity and problem solving skills. Joyce said that most teams prepared all year for this competition¡ª although the specifics of the rounds would be announced during the competition, the general pattern was the same.

    Know your basics inside and out, is what she said. They weren¡¯t just focused on results, they wanted a reliable result and an experts touch, they want to see if the competitors understand the art in artisan. He was going to be going up against future industry leaders, and the Council of Corporations knew it. This time, it was Oberon¡¯s show, but this contest and others like it would cycle around the various Council Domains, the hosting corporation gained the advantage in the first offer to the young talents, and that¡¯s on top of the prizes for placing in the top 3.

    So although Hunter would be more visible than ever before, and he was sure that the men and women behind his fathers death would know about his existence once more, Joyce assured him that Oberon would be keeping an incredibly close eye on how the contest unfolded. Young talent was highly prized and corporations preferred to get those youths through a good school and transform them into an obedient cog as soon as possible.

    She didn¡¯t quite frame it like that, but Hunter could read between the lines. These are the mega-corps, after all. Vast, bureaucratic dreadscapes, built to pierce the sky and cast shadows that suppressed the creative soul of the world.

    That being said, working for one of those would be a better fate than being a victim of the Comics. At least he could guarantee some degrees of freedom as part of the Oberon corporate structure.

    His increased visibility during the competition and whatever came afterwards would be balanced out by increased security. This was Oberon Enterprises, not a local, family-owned convenience store. The amount of resources the company commanded would make any overt action against any of the youths at the competition an ill-advised operation. It occurred to him that if he wanted, he would have freedom even earlier, without officially signing a contract with Oberon. Maybe while he¡¯s at the Barnum Academy of Excellence, he would his mind about his direction.

    The Comics wouldn¡¯t allow him to do that. Neither would any of the alternatives he could think of. He assured himself¡ª for the thousandth time¡ª than this was his best option. Hunter felt the pressure, but he wasn¡¯t afraid. His textbook knowledge might be lacking, but constructs were practically his lifeblood. Synergies had presented him with opportunities to take shortcuts that would improve the end result of most projects that were put in front of him. It¡¯s what kept people coming back to him¡ª he did good work despite his handicap. Despite what the world thought about affinity ratings, he would prove that his expertise was valuable, and that his affinity rating was irrelevant.

    When he got home, he nodded at the Comics who waited outside his door. It was important to respect them, no matter how much disgust and anger their presence inspired within him. No one in the neighborhood would challenge the Comics directly. They sneered at him as he walked by, and he heard the words ¡®skeleton¡¯, and ¡®stick bug¡¯ muttered under their alcohol-stained breaths. Hunter was used to it. It still stung, old memories of rejection that he didn¡¯t like to touch would aggravate, he¡¯d find new reasons to avoid contact with most people. At least when he could avoid it. Fending off starvation and exposure to the elements had a way of focusing the mind.

    He was always tall for his age, but the AR deficiency, or whatever caused it, seemed to inhibit muscle growth. That, and the fact that he could only afford enough food to survive, and not much else in the way of luxury, meant that he was unnaturally thin and frail. Hunter had always had problems with bruises, broken bones, and dislocations while growing up. He¡¯d learned how to be careful as he grew older, and his bones did strengthen a little bit, but he still needed to be vigilant about where he stepped. He was never out past dark, and he was always careful about how his environment was set up.

    A bad injury could mean that he couldn¡¯t work, and no work meant no food.

    So it was best not to give the Comics any reason to find trouble with him. He accepted the insults with as much grace as he could. If he managed to trigger their aggression, he would find no savior. The cops wouldn¡¯t be called, no one would complain. Hunter tolerated the jeers as he walked past them and unlocked his door, and ignored them when they told him that he had one more day before they made his choice for him.

    ¡°32nd Street ain¡¯t a place for fools, kid. You think we¡¯re fools? You think you can ignore us forever?¡±

    Hunter felt tempted to comment on the irony of a comic denouncing a fool, but his self preservation instincts took over and he focused on unlocking his door and getting inside the house in one piece.

    As the door closed behind him, Hunter took a deep breath.

    They would leave in a few hours, like they normally did. And then he would never have to deal with them again.

    Hopefully, he¡¯d be out of their reach for good. Although he was loathe to admit it, working his ass off to impress the corps was infinitely more desirable than having to be associated with these clowns.

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    Besides, winning the corporation and joining Oberon Enterprises would just be the first part of his plan.

    Getting out of Sanctuary was his true vision. That¡¯s what he needed to focus on.

    Before this competition landed in his lap, the dream of leaving the pull of the world¡¯s gravity seemed like nothing but a dream. He could still innovate, and push the boundaries of being an artisan, but he would do it locked to the ground¡ª forever unable to step foot on strange new worlds, and see things no one had ever seen before.

    But everyone knew that Oberon Enterprises pride themselves on their out-world expansion. If there was anywhere else that Hunter could have such a high chance of achieving his dream, he didn¡¯t know about it.

    He clapped his hands to cut interrupt his train of thought, shifting his focus towards what he had come back home to do¡ª get the hell out of this city. To do that, he would need to pack.

    Hunter didn¡¯t have much in the way of bags or boxes to pack his stuff into. He strained to think of anything that he could use to bring what he needed to the capital city. He had a backpack that he could fit some of his tools into, and a few small boxes lying around the basement from old deliveries of spare parts. There was also a small carry-bag he¡¯d brought at a grocery store a couple of years ago on a whim, convincing himself that he was doing his part to contribute to a better environment, and then promptly forgetting that he¡¯d bought it until now. He could fit a couple of pairs of clothes into that.

    A backpack, 3 small cardboard boxes, and a carry-bag.

    He nodded to himself. It would be enough. The competition would only last the weekend, so he really only needed three sets of clothes to last him Friday to Sunday. If he needed anymore after that, he figured he¡¯d just use the prize money to buy some more. The doubt started to rise again, the ever-present tension in his chest trying to let him know that what he was doing was absolutely insane, but he forced is attention away from it. It was irrelevant at this point.

    He¡¯d committed. One way or another, this would decide his future.

    He paused, and remembered that there was another item he¡¯d be carrying with him. In the corner of his room, fit snugly between his workbench and his closet, was a dark silver-grey briefcase, the same one that Jimmy had given to him all those years ago. He¡¯d said that his father had given it to his boss, but refused to tell Hunter who his boss was and what his relationship to Hunters father had been. He¡¯d spent some time trying to open the briefcase, but the material was too strong. The only way he¡¯d be able to open it would be to unlock it, but it was locked by a passcode. So far, he hadn¡¯t been able to guess what it was. Every few months he¡¯d search his memories as far back as he could to try and find anything that could be a clue.

    There were many times where he doubted whether the briefcase ever came from his father at all, and that it wasn¡¯t some elaborate scheme concocted by Jimmy and his employer.

    Not that Hunter could deduce what that scheme might be, but there were three things Hunter was certain of in this world, one was that his father was innocent, two was that Council corps could only ever be trusted to serve their own self interest, and three, Jimmy¡¯s employer was probably someone highly placed in one such corporation. Maybe Hunter served as a way to frustrate a rivals plan. As far as Hunter knew, the last few years of his life he¡¯d served as an unwitting pawn in some grand game of political chess.

    He couldn¡¯t prove it, and his ¡®benefactors¡¯ hadn¡¯t asked anything of him, or threatened him in any way. In fact, it was almost as if Hunters¡¯ wellbeing had been a chore they¡¯d checked off of a list and then totally forgotten about. It was completely out of character for any corporation that Hunter had heard of.

    So, either Hunter was forgotten, or they¡¯d been up to date about Hunters situation the entire time. Hunter could only hope for the former option, yet something within him recoiled at the thought, and he laughed.

    It was absurd, he just couldn¡¯t wrap his mind around it, and yet there it was. How had he never seen it before?

    He couldn''t tolerate being forgotten, nor could he tolerate being known. But all he could do was shrug it off. It didn¡¯t matter, did it?

    He had an objective, and he¡¯d decided that it was worth the risk. That was what mattered now.

    Packing took longer than he¡¯d thought. He warred with himself over what he¡¯d wear, and which tools he¡¯d need. In the end, he would take all of his custom stuff, and he would bring some of his own batteries. He had a few that were fully charged, and some with partial charges. He¡¯d leave the ones that were completely discharged back home, as recharging them to a state of usefulness would take too long.

    As far as his custom tools went, the most useful ones that he¡¯d built into his workbench would have to be left behind as well, except for one that he could detach and carry over his shoulder. He couldn¡¯t justify leaving it behind, as it acted as something of a third arm which could speed up his workflow tremendously. It was a heavy piece of equipment for Hunter, but he figured he could get someone to help him move it.

    After getting everything packed up and placed by the door, he decided to read to kill the time before Joyce¡¯s people arrived.

    Hours passed, the sun went down, and the Comics left. Hunter waited. He kept looking out the window, waiting, hoping that every passing headlight would turn towards his cul-de-sac.

    Hunter felt tempted to give up hope, as the hours passed by, almost convincing himself that it had all been a hazy dream born of a desperate mind. He let the familiar feeling of dread live in his chest for a while. He deserved it for getting his hopes up. But as soon as it rose, the grief dissipated.

    He felt an odd sense of relief. His fate was decided. He would have to give the Comics his answer tomorrow morning.

    Yet, he remained glued his seat, watching out the window. That soft ember of hope refusing to lose its flickering glow.

    At just before 10pm, a large black SUV turned into the the cul-de-sac. Hunters heartbeat felt like it had accelerated a hundred-fold in the span of a second. He felt a surge of adrenaline.

    This had to be them, right?

    Sure enough, the SUV stopped in front of his house. The driver and his passenger stepped out and walked to his front door. Hunter had the door open before they could knock.

    They seemed taken aback. Hunter could imagine how he looked, wide-eyed, slightly winded from the arduous jog across the 25 feet between the corner of his living room and the front door. He could see them clearly now from the light that shone out from his home. A man and a woman, both dressed casually. They both wore denim jeans, the man wore a white Oberon Enterprises¡¯ t-shirt, and the woman had a studded leather jacket. She seemed the friendlier of the two, with feathered hair, large hoop hearings, and an easy smile. The man on the other hand appeared a bit more visibly guarded. Scanning the surroundings, eyes analyzing every detail.

    ¡°Hunter Koar?¡± The woman asked.

    ¡°Please tell me you¡¯re here to take me to the Capital,¡± Hunter said between breaths.

    ¡°Yes, sorry for the delay. I take it this is all stuff you¡¯re taking with you? You know its only for a few days, right?¡±

    Hunter decided not to tell them the whole story.

    Hunter considered the home he¡¯d lived in for the last few years, and felt a sense of sadness. This was probably the last time he¡¯d ever seen it, and as much as he¡¯d grown to hate the neighborhood, this house had sheltered him during the worst of times and the best of times. He¡¯d had so many small victories here, so many discoveries, so many dreams of what the future could look like if he somehow got the chance to soar.

    The sentimentality took him by surprise. He would miss this place, but he figured that as far as those illusive chances go, this was as close as he would ever get.

    Hunter turned off all of the lights and locked the door, got in the SUV, and left the cul-de-sac at the intersection of 32nd Avenue and Truss for the last time.

    The key to that house felt heavy in his hand. Not physically, but there was a sense of significance to it. He studied it as the luminescence of passing streetlights strobed through the windows, the shadows cast through the windows constantly shifting and resetting. Not physically, but there was a sense of significance to it. Before, it had just been a key. He¡¯d always been careful with it, knowing that if he¡¯d lost it he probably wouldn¡¯t get another one. He¡¯d been close to losing it a few times, each time felt just as apocalyptic as the last. But this was a different kind of weight.

    He was glad that he¡¯d made the decision long ago to create a necklace out of twine, threading through the head of the key. His father had once said that it was important to remember your story, who you were, and who you¡¯d become. The key would be his way to remember this place, the circumstances that brought him here, and his dreams of something better. He placed the key back around his neck and relaxed.

    In two days, he felt like his life had changed completely. He knew he was just imagining it. The future was still unwritten, he would still have to push himself to win the competition. However, he couldn¡¯t help but feel like he¡¯d just done something important. He¡¯d trusted himself. He¡¯d found an avenue to improve his situation, and he¡¯d taken it.

    No matter what, he¡¯d make sure that this opportunity bore the fruit he needed it to.

 Chapter 6

    The ride out of Seckina had been silent, but not uncomfortable. Along the way, his handlers had informed him that Joyce had cashed in a favor and he was being given a suite in a hotel close to the arena that the competition was going to be held at. They would help him move his stuff into the suite but after that he¡¯d be on his own.

    Soon, Hunter began to recognize the surroundings. Certain landmarks on the way to the capital¡ª the Portsmith bridge the stretched across the Denman river, the iconic smokestacks of the Nelson Brothers factory, one of the oldest factories in the world. It hadn¡¯t been used in over a century, but it had immense historical value as one of the old pillars of the Oberon corporation¡ª before the unification war, back before they rebranded to become Oberon Enterprises. Back then the company was called Oberon & Sons.

    He felt some nostalgia when they approached the Oberon Capital itself. The last time he¡¯d come here was when his father was still alive, probably 3 years before his death. He would have been around 8 or 9 at the time. He barely recognized the place, but there were a few things that stood out. Old restaurants that his father had taken him to, the Establishment monument, which was built to the commemorate the genesis of The Council-- an event which sparked the unification war, where the Council declared their independence. It didn''t take them long to conquer or outright buy the rest of the world.

    The old world had died, and the new world had been born. The Council of Corporations had emerged victorious. Oberon Enterprises was a founding member of the Council and one of the oldest Corporations still in existence, rivalled in age by Smith Transports and Lumina Inc, none of which could hold a candle to the history of the nations they had taken over during the war.

    The Council had promised a level of freedom that none of the previous nations could compete with. War had always been prevalent on Sanctuary, even the ancient Asutnahem had evidence of war and conquest if you looked back far enough. And speaking of the Asutnahem, Hunter recognized the Oberon Central Museum as they passed it. It had been his fathers favorite place to visit when he decided to take a break from the lab, which was a rare occurrence, but he was always sure to bring Hunter with him. At the time, Hunter hadn¡¯t cared too much about history. He still didn¡¯t find much value in it.

    But as soon as he saw the museum, he made a commitment to visit it. Maybe he¡¯d discover the value in it that his father had always insisted was there. Maybe he just wanted to feel like he was close to to him again. He felt a familiar ache. The feeling of loss was gone, but there he still felt a longing to talk to him again. He wanted to hear how his dad had a new idea for an old invention, he wanted to impress him with how far his synergy research had come along.

    He¡¯d never gotten a chance to tell his father about synergies. It was always meant to be a surprise. If only he¡¯d had a chance to show him, he imagined his dad would be proud of him.

    Hunter took a deep breath and refocused on the present. He¡¯d visit the museum when he was more certain about how the next few days would unfold.

    The hotel that Hunter would be staying at was nothing impressive, but it wasn¡¯t too shabby either. Once Hunter was shown to his suite, and all of his belongings were brought up, he took some time to explore the small suite. There was a small envelope on the table in the small living room that was detached from the bedroom. It was much smaller than where he was used to living, but it was also quite a bit nicer. Clean, and with a great view of the some of the surrounding high-rises, as well as nearby parks. The stadium was a few blocks away. He could see signs all around, plastered on buildings and rising from the stadium itself showcasing the logo of Oberon Enterprises, as well as the personal crest of the Oberon family and some other logos for local sports teams, which Hunter recognized but felt absolutely no attachment too. He¡¯d always been too busy for sports.

    He left the envelope on the coffee table, decided he¡¯d read it in the morning after he¡¯d gotten some sleep. He had a full day before the competition, but he would need to register tomorrow. He hadn¡¯t decided when he¡¯d visit the museum, but he figured it would either be tomorrow, or in between the competitions rounds.

    If he made it that far.

    Even if he didn¡¯t, he could still visit it anyways. No matter what, the competition would end for Hunter on a high note.

    Pondering the idea that he might not win felt like inviting in certain doom. But Hunter had never been one to hide from the facts, he¡¯d just prefer to entertain the best possible scenario whenever he could. It would all workout for him, somehow. He would prove that he had value. Even if he didn¡¯t win, he might able to establish himself as a valid candidate to hire. Someone would be interested in giving him a chance, even if it wasn¡¯t Oberon Enterprises. The only other corporation he could imagine himself wanting to be associated with was Smith Transports, given that both Oberon and Smith appeared the least-involved with whatever remained of his father¡¯s company.

    Even so, Council Seats were Council seats. He would only rely on them as far as it was practical for him to do so. He refused to let himself become a ¡®company man¡¯. He wouldn¡¯t sell his soul over to those vast, unfeeling machines. They would never care about him any farther than he was useful to them.

    So their relationship would be based on mutual interest. He could stomach that.

    That night, Hunter slept better than he had all week. The threat of the Comics was gone, his future was still uncertain, but he¡¯s taken the path that gave him options, options that could support his great dreams if everything went well.

    He¡¯d consider that a win.

    <hr>

    Hunter, I trust that the suite is to your liking. Having verified your identity, I find myself obligated to set your mind at ease.

    You are likely aware that there were a few significant parties interested in your family¡¯s estate. They will undoubtedly hear about your presence, but I¡¯m happy to confirm that as long as you are a contestant in the Global Youth Artisan Competition, you will be under Oberon Enterprises¡¯ official protection, as is the case with all contestants.

    I¡¯m also happy to inform you that your battery-centered workflow has been approved. There is a precedent for batteries to be used to assist in the creation of constructs when an individual has exhausted themselves from excessive etherium channeling, and this is considered nothing but an extension of that allowance. Oberon Enterprises is happy to loan you any ether batteries you require during the length of the competition, so long as they are used exclusively for the intended purpose of assisting you in the design and creation of constructs. If they are used as components of the actual constructs, in excess of any batteries that are supplied for that specific function, you will be disqualified from participating any further.

    Best of luck,

    Joyce Collingwood

    Talent Acquisition Specialist for Oberon Enterprises

    Seckina Center Office

    P.S. Don¡¯t let the other contestants get to you. Stay focused on what you know, and I¡¯m certain that you¡¯ll excel. Its also worth reiterating that Oberon Enterprises¡¯ protection only extends to active contestants, not previous contestants. As soon as you lose, or are disqualified, you are on your own.

    Hunter had taken some time to wake up before reading the letter that Joyce had left for him. The suite came equipped with a coffee press and a fresh bottle of milk in the fridge. The small box television had access to a few channels, and Hunter had to play with the antenna before it would show a clear-enough image.

    He turned the channel dial until he found the morning news. A terrorist attack in another domain, one in Oberon Enterprises Domain, far from the capital or Seckina, but still worrying. The Global Youth Artisan competition was mentioned, but apparently wasn¡¯t as big of a deal to most of the city as it was to Hunter. Although the competition had earned the right to take over the local stadium, it wasn¡¯t considered a popular enough topic to devote anymore than a short piece about its history, and some of the more notable hopefuls from around the globe.

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    For the first time, Hunter had a chance to see who he was going to be competing with. He recognized some of the faces from Seckina, a notable team who had apparently done very well in the previous competition but hadn¡¯t made it past the 4th place. Over 50 teams had passed the preliminary examination, and the teams would be composed of anywhere between three to four people. Anything below that was considered an unnecessary handicap.

    Apparently the 2nd place team from last year was also returning to try and claim a top spot. Either they didn¡¯t receive any good offers last year, or they had their mind set on something better. Something like being sponsored to attend the Barnum Academy of Excellence. Hunter still had no idea what was so special about the Academy and he didn¡¯t really care. The academy was only a secondary consideration after receiving a commitment from Oberon Enterprises. He assumed that they¡¯ll only sponsor you if you commit, in writing, to joining them after graduating

    Hunter would prefer to see what kind of cash equivalence they hand out. It would be a win win, they can offer the sponsorship to someone who actually wants it, and Hunter can have enough money to live comfortable as he decides his next step, or finds a new client list with the credentials of having won the Global Youth Artisan Competition by himself. Who knows, maybe he¡¯ll start his own company like his father had, strategically using his synergies to set him apart from the competition, attracting brilliant minds to work for him under the spirit of innovation and progress.

    That option didn¡¯t appeal to him as much as leaving the world did, but if he couldn¡¯t leave it, he¡¯d make as big of an impact on Sanctuary as he could. Screw the corporations, he¡¯d make his own.

    He laughed at himself.

    As if he¡¯d want all that work. Having to deal with the sociopaths who run all the other successful corporations would be soul-killing.

    No thanks.

    After drinking his coffee, he had read the letter and seen that there were two mores items inside the envelope, which contained a certificate which declared Hunter had passed the preliminaries, as well as a letter vouching for Hunters identity.

    Hunter realized he didn¡¯t have an ID for his real identity, all he had was the fake ID that declared him as Jonathan Esper. He silently whispered his thanks to Joyce for being so conscientious. If he couldn¡¯t prove who he was, he probably wouldn¡¯t have been able to actually register. Feeling like he¡¯d just dodged a bullet he didn¡¯t even know was coming, he took a shower and left the hotel. As he was able to partially see the stadium from his hotel window, he knew which direction to go. There were surprisingly few people around at this time, and the Stadium felt especially deserted. It reminded him of the rec center he had taken the preliminaries at, which had a line out the door to wait but once you were inside it was practically silent.

    Hunter endered the stadium. There were very few people present, some staff who smiled and at him as he entered. He saw no obvoius sign of where to go to register, and someone was kind enough to point him to the big banner that Hunter had somehow missed, which had a large arrow directing teams towards the registration area. -The arrow lead to another arrow, which lead to another, and Hunter found himself inside a large room filled with dozens of people. The other teams, it seemed. A rough count put the amount of people in the low 100¡¯s, which meant that just under half of the competing contestants were present. The rest would have already registered, or would show up later in the day. Hunter also noticed that there were a few people in suits to the side of the room, observing proceedings and taking notes.

    Whatever their function was, Hunter couldn¡¯t tell.

    Hunter got a few curious looks when he entered, but for the most part, everyone seemed to be minding their own business. He could hear a few conversations, some in languages he didn¡¯t understand. These people must have travelled overnight like he had in order to get here, or perhaps their preliminary tests had been conducted earlier. Hunter studied the room. Most of the teams were staying to one side of the room, while another team was at the front, where he assumed they were being registered. What he saw next made him feel like a hundred pound stone had coalesced in his gut.

    Next to the registering team was a small affinity scanner, hooked up to a screen that was large enough for its contents to be legible across the room. Whatever logic caused them to think that the measured affinities would be anyone¡¯s business apart from the team and the person recording it, Hunter couldn¡¯t deduce it. Perhaps it had something to do with the suited individuals he¡¯d noticed earlier. Each member of the team took a turn at the small machine. With the result, their name would be announced, along with their score. All the rest of the teams found this interesting enough to interrupt their conversations.

    ¡°Larissa Vanderbeldt, Affinity: 18¡±

    The suits all took notes. A small bit of discussion broke out amongst the observing teams.

    ¡°Joy Medelken, Affinity: 20¡±

    Hunter was impressed. 18 was a good score for someone their age, slightly higher than average. He guessed that these youths were around the same age as he was, within the range of 16 to 19, so an affinity 20 would measure within the 90th percentile worldwide. The suits took notes with a few raised eyebrows. The teams made a few impressed sounds, and there were a few scoffs and sneers as well.

    ¡°Tony Demore, Affinity: 18¡±

    ¡°Julia Emerosa, Affinity: 17¡±

    All respectable scores. Hunter realized he had been bouncing his right leg. He kept his heel firmly planted against the ground, but then he realized his hands were shaking. The room felt hot. He was sweating.

    He would have to go in front of all of these people soon.

    The next team was called up.

    Their measurements ranged between 15 to 19. The team after that scored similarly, with one person having an affinity of 21. The young man with such a high affinity had observed the audience after his score was announced, a proud look on his face. He graced the suits with a smile and a small bow.

    The young man¡¯s name was David Nettle. Hunter hadn¡¯t heard of him before. Not that he expected he should have. What was his deal? A high affinity would mean something if you were in a martial arts competition, or a strength competition, and trained regularly enough to take advantage of the slightly increased strength and endurance the affinity could bestow.

    But in an artisan competition?

    It didn¡¯t make much of a difference. At least, not beyond the obvious increase in the length of time and volume of etherium that you could use to test your construct. Without regular testing, something could go incredibly wrong. It was like debugging software, except the final result was mostly permanent without specialized tools and plenty of time to carefully rework specific glyphs and networked channels of finely ground Drawstones.

    It wouldn¡¯t help you with theory, nor would it help you with creativity and problem solving, which Joyce had said would be the focus for the second and third final round of the competition. The thought brought some comfort to Hunter, as he knew that whatever these people might think of him and his affinity, his value would be readily apparent when it came time to get to work.

    Soon enough it was his turn to register himself. When the registration staff called out if there were any remaining teams present that wished to register, Hunter stood. He gained a lot of attention. People had noticed him sitting alone as all the present teams had gone through the registration process. Those same people looked at him with surprise as he approached the registration table alone. He heard some laughter from the teams, and even the suits were whispering amongst themselves, some snickered, others looked at him skeptically, but were prepared to write down whatever information they were looking to glean from the event.

    ¡°Where¡¯s the rest of your team?¡± the man standing at the registration desk asked. Hunter shook his head.

    ¡°It¡¯s just me.¡±

    The man shrugged his shoulders.

    ¡°Alright,¡± he said, handing Hunter a sheet of paper he was meant to fill out. It only took him a minute, and he then handed over his proof of passing the preliminaries, as well as the letter from Joyce vouching for his identity. When the man saw the letter, he frowned and told Hunter he¡¯d be right back. He left and came back a minute later and looked at Hunter in a way that Hunter couldn¡¯t recognized, something between confusion and curiosity, but whatever he was thinking he was professional enough to keep to himself.

    ¡°The letter was enough to verify you. Step over to the device, please, Mr. Koar.¡±

    Hunter did so, gripping the drawstone. He felt the etherium flowing through him into the machine.

    He knew what the machine was doing. His father had once shown him the prototype of a version he¡¯d built for the Council, improving an even older design. This machine still had some hallmarks of his father¡¯s contributions to the craft, even after having gone through a few iterations over the years, growing smaller and more streamlined. As more efficient glyphs were discovered, they¡¯d be used wherever possible. Not quite like synergies, but similar.

    Of course, a new glyph didn¡¯t always mean a more efficient choice for a construct. In fact, a new glyph being discovered wouldn¡¯t be widely adopted for years after its discovery, while artisans deconstructed it and tested it in all of its combinations. Many of which could prove explosive.

    Hunter hadn¡¯t had his affinity measured in over 6 years.

    The machine beeped. The man looked at the result and frowned. Hunter braced himself..

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Mr. Koar. The machine appears to be broken. One second.¡±

    Hunter could have corrected the man, but he didn¡¯t. The machine was reset, and people started talking, wondering what was taking so long. Hunter knew as well as anyone that the technology as both accurate and reliable.

    The man finished resetting the machine, and Hunter gripped the Drawstone again.

    The machine beeped, and Hunter sighed.

    ¡°It¡¯s probably accurate,¡± Hunter said, glancing to the screen., the result surprised him as much as it shamed him.

    Apparently, the rest of the room was just as surprised as he was.

 Chapter 7

    Jimmy almost spit out his coffee when he saw the tall young man approach the registration desk.

    Technically, Jimmy wasn¡¯t supposed to be here, this area was meant for media officials as well as various corporate interests to assemble and observe the team registrations. The whole affinity test was a show for the people standing and sitting around Jimmy. He was as incognito as he could manage to be. He¡¯d been losing a lot of weight recently, which he was quite proud of. He was taking notes along with everyone else. He looked the part, and played the part well enough to pass muster. The badge was totally fake, but he¡¯d had enough connections in the city to get him through. They knew that Jimmy had friends in high places, and that meant that they wanted Jimmy as a friend. People would be willing to stretch the rules a bit for him, and Jimmy wasn¡¯t above taking advantage of that.

    The reason why Jimmy had gone to such lengths to get himself here was simple: early intel meant he¡¯d know who to bet on ahead of time. Payouts for these competitions could be quite lucrative. He¡¯d been enjoying the show so far. Some of these kids were cocky, and that meant there would be drama, and drama usually meant more interest. More interest meant more bets, and more bets meant more money. Jimmy liked money, and he knew exactly where to be in order to gauge where the wind was blowing.

    It wasn¡¯t anything like a sure thing, and he was probably breaking a law or two by being there, but Jimmy didn¡¯t really care. He was still only retired part-time. When he wasn¡¯t doing an official job, he liked to explore. He liked to learn, and finding fun ways to lose or gain lots of money. So it was natural he¡¯d found his way here.

    He hadn¡¯t even noticed the kid walk in, which was rare for him. He was usually pretty observant, but he¡¯d chalk it down to not having seen the kid in years. But the way he hunched as he walked, the appearance of being malnourished, his skin practically stretching over what little muscle the boy had¡ª skin and bones, as they say. He almost wanted to believe it wasn¡¯t him, but then he¡¯d taken the affinity test, and they¡¯d called his name out for the world to hear.

    ¡°Hunter Koar, Affinity: 5¡±

    ¡°Well, screw me sideways,¡± Jimmy whispered, earning a few odd looks from his surrounding ¡®colleagues¡¯. He threw up his hands in apology, muttering a ¡®sorry¡¯.

    Did Trey know about this? He¡¯d gone to some length to eliminate the trail of Hunter Koar to the rest of the world.

    How¡¯d he get past the preliminaries without anyone being the wiser? Someone had to have known, right?

    His curiosity was burning, and he knew how to get the answers. He left the room and took out his mobile phone. He had Trey¡¯s number memorized, but rarely used it. Trey Oberon was an incredibly busy man. You didn¡¯t call Trey, Trey called you, and there was usually a very good reason as to why he did it. Council Seats don¡¯t have much time for meaningless small talk and catching up.

    But there were exceptions for interrupting a Council Seats¡¯ busy schedule.

    He finished dialing, and waited. Trey didn¡¯t pick up, so he called again. At this point, Trey would know it was Jimmy. No one else had the balls to call Trey twice in a row if he didn¡¯t pick up the first time.

    ¡°You¡¯re interrupting my family time,¡± Trey said, his tone tone leaving very little room to misunderstand just how he felt about the intrusion.

    ¡°Hey, it¡¯s Jimmy. You¡¯re not gonna believe who I just saw¡­¡±

    <hr>

    As soon as he was registered, and confirmed where he needed to be tomorrow morning, Hunter left. But before he could, someone called his name.

    David Nettle was tall for his age, but not as tall as Hunter. But he had a solid, athletic build, long blonde hair that appeared to flair out slightly like wings, and blue eyes. His team followed behind him. Hunter debated if he should ignore them and leave, but he figured he¡¯d hear them out, not that he expected anything good to come of this.

    His instinct was confirmed immediately.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got some nerve taking a name like that,¡± David said. Hunter fought to keep his reactions under the surface.

    ¡°Oh?¡± Hunters responded, mostly out of reflex, and he cringed. He was keen to leave. Nothing good would come of this conversation. He¡¯d sketched its trajectory

    Insult his father.

    ¡°Gideon Koar may have been a psycho, but he was a competent psycho,¡± David said. Hunter frowned. Was that half of an insult? If this was a test, he might get a half mark.

    Next would come the fallacy.

    ¡°If you were his son, you wouldn¡¯t have such a low affinity. As soon as I saw you, I knew you were the charity case that had been registered this year. I don¡¯t even know how you have the guts to stand here, still. Not only that, but after what Gideon Koar did, you still have the gall to keep that name?¡±

    Hunter started balling his fists, but what would he do?

    Fight them? Even he could, he wouldn¡¯t want to. He couldn¡¯t afford to be disqualified. As soon as the thought appeared, he tilted his head. Maybe what they were saying wasn¡¯t personal. It stung like hell, but he¡¯s sure that¡¯s what they were counting on. They could eliminate some competition before the first round had already begun. Whether it was a team of one, or a team of 4, a team was a team. And besides what did they have to lose? A fake Hunter Koar, with an affinity of 5, from their point of view there was no way Hunter had a chance to make it very far in this competition.

    Of course, there¡¯s always the possibility that they were just a bunch of assholes, but these were supposed to be a group of pretty smart people. You didn¡¯t pass that preliminary test if you didn¡¯t have a brain to work with. A smart asshole would try and kill two birds with one stone. And Hunter kind of agreed with David, sort of. He didn¡¯t know why he was still standing here.

    One of David¡¯s teammates joined the assault.

    ¡°What, were your parents fanboying Gideon when they named you? Isn¡¯t that adorable?¡± He laughed like a hyena. David snorted, and the other two teammates either smiled or laughed as well.

    He wanted to take their words personally, but now that he¡¯d seen it, he couldn¡¯t unsee it. This was strategic. It barely made the words any less impactful, but the impact shifted.

    ¡°I¡¯ll see you all tomorrow,¡± Hunter said, relieved that he was able to keep his voice even. He did his best to square his shoulders and keep his chin up as he left them. He was used to slouching, keeping his posture erect was usually quite taxing for him after more than a few minutes. He wouldn¡¯t give them the satisfaction they were looking for, and he couldn¡¯t wait to see their reaction when he ended up winning this damned competition.

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°My, my,¡± someone drawled from behind as soon as Hunter had left the room. The voice belonged to an older man. Hunter wasn¡¯t interested in another round of drama, so he kept walking.

    ¡°You know,¡± the man said, keeping pace behind Hunter, ¡°when I dropped you off in Seckina, I was pretty damn sure I wouldn¡¯t have any business associated with the Koar''s for the rest of my life.¡±

    Hunter stopped walking, and turned to get a look at the man that was following him.

    ¡°Jimmy?¡± Hunter asked. He¡¯d never forgotten the man¡¯s name. He remembered standing in front of the law enforcement branch, with the mildly obese man in a suit telling him he¡¯d take him away from the hell he¡¯d been thrown into. But after a while, he realized that all of life was hell. Some people just suffered to a different degree than others.

    The man took off his hat, but then rubbed his hand over his bald head and frowned.

    Hunter almost didn¡¯t recognize him, not at first.

    ¡°Well, I suppose it would be hard to recognize me. I¡¯m not aiming to make much of an impact while I''m here. But yeah, its me, kid. Surprise!¡± Jimmy said, flaring his hands.

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± Hunter asked, lowing his voice.

    Jimmy barked out a laugh as he approached, patting Hunters shoulder.

    ¡°Wow, look at you,¡± Jimmy said, looking up at Hunter, ¡°you¡¯re practically a giant. Gideon was never this tall.¡±

    His levity dropped a bit, then.

    ¡°As to why I''m here, let¡¯s just say I¡¯ve got some personal business I''m attending to. My question is, why in the world are you here?¡±

    Hunter was about to answer, but Jimmy waved his hand.

    ¡°Hold that thought. Any conversation worth having, is worth having over a nice breakfast. Come, there¡¯s a great restaurant just down the block. They¡¯ve usually got a corner booth available that¡¯s perfect for this sort of thing.¡±

    Hunter shrugged and followed. So far, today had been a rollercoaster. Jimmy was the last person he was ever expecting to see.

    He said as much once they¡¯d reached the restaurant and sat in a private corner booth.

    ¡°Feeling¡¯s mutual, kid. So, spill the beans. What made you decide to sabotage all the hard work my boss put in to hiding your presence?¡± Jimmy asked, his smile seemed to harden, not quite reaching his eyes.

    Hunter¡¯s jaw clenched. It was going to be another hard conversation, then.

    Jimmy laughed again, leaning over to pat Hunter shoulder, a bit harder than he had earlier.

    ¡°Come on, relax, kid. I¡¯m kidding. The fake ID we gave you was all me, took 20 minutes to call up my guy and it was all done by the end of the day. The house was out of the boss¡¯s own pocket, though, not that he minded. He¡¯s got deep pockets.¡±

    ¡°Who is your boss?¡± Hunter asked. It was one of the most pressing questions on his mind. He¡¯d wondered for years.

    Jimmy chewed his steak, considering Hunters question.

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s an open secret at this point. And I called the boss after I realized you were here,¡± he said, cutting into his steak again, ¡°The head honcho himself. The big cheese.¡±

    Hunter felt simultaneously weary and thrilled. It confirmed his theory, only he''d never gone so far as to imagine that the Council Seat himself had intervened.

    ¡°You mean--¡± Hunter said, but Jimmy held up a finger to his lips.

    ¡°It might be an open secret, but its still somewhat of a secret. Keep your voice down. Yes," his voice dropped down a raspy whisper, ¡°Trey Oberon is my boss, at least when I''m not retired.¡±

    Hunter waited for Jimmy to elaborate.

    ¡°Its a long story,¡± Jimmy said, ¡°and you didn¡¯t answer my question. What are you doing here, kid?¡±

    Hunter considered how to answer. He didn¡¯t trust Jimmy, but he had no reason to think that he had any ill will towards him.

    ¡°This was my best option. I accidentally revealed my real name during the preliminary test, and it turned out to be the only reason that I was able to pass.¡±

    ¡°But that doesn¡¯t explain why you were there in the first place,¡± Jimmy said.

    Hunter sighed.

    ¡°There was this gang, the 32nd Street Comics. They gave me the choice to join them. Today would be the day I was supposed to give them my answer. I suppose that¡¯s exactly what I did.¡±

    Jimmy leaned back in his seat, nodding his head. His smile was gone, but his eyes were filled with sympathy.

    ¡°I had no idea it was that kind of neighborhood. Sorry, Hunter.¡±

    Hunter could hear the guilt in Jimmy¡¯s voice. Hunter didn¡¯t blame Jimmy for the choice of neighborhood, though.

    ¡°As far as I''m aware, the Comics didn¡¯t pop up a couple of years after you dropped me off. You couldn¡¯t have known, neither could your boss. Apparently, it had been a pretty nice neighborhood before they showed up.¡±

    It hadn¡¯t taken long for all the park monuments to be covered in graffiti. They¡¯d also managed to aggravate other gangs. You could hear gunshots, some nights. They would be the only thing that broke Hunter¡¯s focus while he was working. Its why he liked to spend most of his days inside. He only ever started to leave the house more in the brief period that the Comics felt that his little cul-de-sac was worth their direct presence. They¡¯d moved into a couple of the houses nearby, and the parties they threw could last all night, well into the next day. Hunter was always good at minding his own business. But neighbors would talk, of threats to children, to pets, if word was to get out that anyone notified the cops about the Comics activity. Hunter didn¡¯t have anyone else around that the Comics could threaten. That had only made the risk feel more personal to him.

    Every day since then it felt like the walls were closing in. Even after Joyce passed him through the preliminary test, the pressure continued to build, but at least the Comics were no longer his problem to deal with. A silence stretched between them for a minute. Jimmy was either deep in thought, or really enjoying his steak.

    He didn¡¯t know how busy Jimmy was today, so he figured he should get as much information as he can.

    ¡°You said that the Council Seat was on his way? Did you tell him I was here?¡± Hunter asked, nervous about having to meet the man.

    ¡°On his way to the competition,¡± Jimmy said, ¡°not the restaurant.¡±

    Hunter felt some relief.

    ¡°Oh, he does want to meet with you though. See, I didn¡¯t know about the gang when I told him I saw you at registration table. So he¡¯s probably about as curious as I was, if not more, about why you would be showing up to the Global Youth Artisan Competition. He would figure, quite like I did, that you would have a very good reason to feel confident enough to join under your real name.¡±

    Hunter felt a slight sense of apprehension settle over him.

    Of course.

    He was Gideon Koar¡¯s son. The infamous, visionary Gideon Koar. Etherium luminary, and genius artisan.

    The man who the Council had envied enough to destroy, and that man¡¯s living legacy had just announced himself to the world.

    Maybe, if he was Trey Oberon, he¡¯d be a curious as to why such a youth would have the balls to show himself, after having airlifted him about of a pool full of ravenous sharks.

    ¡°Shit,¡± Hunter whispered.

    ¡°Come on, it¡¯s not like you couldn¡¯t have known. You might not have inherited your fathers affinity, but from what I understand, you inherited some of his brains.¡±

    Hunter nodded. Of course he¡¯d known, but he hadn¡¯t really understood. Up until now it had seemed abstract. The threat of the Comics far outweighed the threat of the Council Seats, and now that the gang wasn¡¯t a threat, a more powerful gang could be learning about his presence here at any minute.

    Hunter felt a headache forming.

    Joyce said that he was safe. As long as he was in this competition, Oberon would be invested in his potential. Maybe, there was another opportunity forming here. If it wasn¡¯t a panel of indifferent judges, but Trey Oberon himself that he needed to impress, maybe the nature of this competition could have just shifted.

    Jimmy observed Hunter as he thought, electing to stay silent.

    ¡°How many people know that Trey¡¯s on his way to the competition?¡±

    Jimmy smiled.

    ¡°I think I know where you¡¯re going with this, and the answer is not many. He usually has a flair for drama¡ª don¡¯t tell him I told you that,¡± Jimmy said, pointing a finger directly Hunter. Hunter smiled and nodded.

    ¡°Anyways, he¡¯ll have them announce his presence at the final round. That¡¯s my bet, anyways,¡± Jimmy said.

    ¡°So, you¡¯re just guessing?¡± Hunter asked.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Jimmy shrugged, ¡°but it¡¯s an educated guess. Council Seats are like cats, they live their busy lives by their own rules. Plans lain years in advance can change on a dime, so you never know.¡±

    Hunter considered that.

    Whether Trey Oberon announced himself or not, if Hunter could prove himself to be a valuable asset, he might be able to grab some benefits from Oberon Enterprises without having to win.

    Not that he was going to aim for anything less than the top spot.

    David Nettle¡¯s annoyingly symmetrical face flashed through his mind. He imagined the look of confusion and fury when his team was eliminated, and Hunter went on to win the whole damn thing.

    ¡°If I''m thinking what you¡¯re thinking, I''ve got to say that the boss isn¡¯t an easy man to impress,¡± Jimmy said. ¡°At this point he¡¯s seen it all, really. You¡¯re gonna have to pull out the stops in order to gain his attention beyond¡ª well, quite frankly, beyond the mild annoyance you¡¯ve just made for him.¡±

    Hunter nodded.

    ¡°Given the fact that you¡¯re not breaking out in a sweat, I''m assuming that you¡¯ve actually got some stops to pull?¡± Jimmy asked.

    Hunter was about to answer out of reflex, but he caught himself.

    ¡°I guess we¡¯ll find out,¡± Hunter said. Jimmy seemed like a decent person, but he was still employed by a Council Seat.

    Hunter revised his gameplan.

 Chapter 8

    He¡¯d already resolved to pull out his synergies to win this competition, just enough to impress the judges. But if he wanted to impress Trey Oberon, maybe he¡¯d have to show that he had even more up cards up his sleeve.

    He wasn¡¯t too worried about introducing new synergies to the market. He had absolutely no doubt that whatever he submitted would be analyzed and copied for the Oberon artisans to use to their hearts content.

    But it would take some time before they proliferated through the market. And he was willing to bet that he¡¯d only need to use a fraction of what he¡¯d been discovering over the last few years to get through the competition. The promise of more would probably be worth Trey¡¯s interest.

    He suddenly felt a lot more confident about how his odds at success, now that the conditions of success had just expanded.

    He might even be able to gain a contract with Oberon Enterprises that was entirely in his favor. A full lab, as many assistants as he wanted, an endless supply of batteries, and full creative freedom seemed a bit less far fetched as it had earlier.

    And a direct line to high-level Oberon staff, who he would have to ingratiate himself to, but it would be worth it if he could eventually walk across unexplored worlds.

    ¡°You¡¯re funny, kid. I like you,¡± Jimmy said, toasting the wine he ordered with his steak.

    Its 9am, Hunter thought, who drinks wine at 9am?

    They parted ways soon after, but before they did, Jimmy had one more word of warning for him. He confirmed that Hunter would be safe so long as he was competing¡ª but Trey wasn¡¯t invested in Hunter¡¯s future anymore. All that meant to Hunter was that he would have to convince Trey that he¡¯d be worth an investment. His low affinity, and relatively awful preliminary test score wouldn¡¯t work well in his favor. Winning a round or two wouldn¡¯t do much to impress him either.

    Jimmy would do what he could, but once word got out that Hunter was competing, the rest of the council would find out. They would hear that Gideon Koar¡¯s son was in attendance, and old ambitions might be renewed. The chance that they could get their hands on something that Gideon left behind was what made Hunter a target. Demonstrating synergies might be considered-- in the eyes of the Council-- something that Gideon left behind.

    It wasn¡¯t, but would the Council know that? Of course not.

    Hunter made his way back to his suite, thinking about what might have changed for him after his conversation with Jimmy. He wanted to plan further, but there was too much he didn¡¯t know. He figured he could probably pass the first round without using any of his refined glyphs, but he would be willing to stretch the use of syntax a bit in order to gain a small advantage.

    How much he revealed in the next two rounds would depend entirely on what he was up against, and he couldn¡¯t see any way around having to use his synergies. If he was going to compete against teams of 3 or 4 people, all of whom had affinity ratings that were almost 4 times higher than his, the brainpower and speed with which they would be able to work with was something that he wouldn¡¯t be able to compete against.

    Synergies were the only way. His prized possessions would finally have a time to shine, but it wasn¡¯t the way he¡¯d envisioned it. He thanked himself for his foresight which led him to bring his third arm. It wasn¡¯t much, but it would probably be the deciding factor in finishing some key components in the competition to come.

    He briefly wondered how he might be able to improve the arm before the competition, but it would take too long to brainstorm, design, and then craft the end result. He was content with what he had, though. He¡¯d made it just about two years ago, and had grown accustomed to it the way it was. But it was a project he was interested in pursuing at a later date, after he¡¯d won this competition. He wondered if he could create something for people who didn¡¯t have his handicap. What would the arm be like if it was meant to assist a normal artisan? He imagined he could add glyphs to assist with heavier workloads, as well as hire someone to design some electrical systems that would be able to help carve out popular glyphs and channel patterns. He could also have a custom arm for himself, coded to assist with his synergies.

    Personal computers had been around for a few years, and Hunter had always wanted to grab one for himself. He¡¯d browsed for one once, and one of the most expensive ones he¡¯d seen was over 6000 credits. But the things he could do with 10 megabytes of hard disk memory, 60 kilobytes of ram, and a 16 bit processor were staggering. The amount of complex calculations that computer could do were mind-blowing to consider. He could even code his synergy tables into it, making the process of planning and designing much faster. He had heard that computation technology was advancing, but how they would improve on those specs without creating an even bigger computer was beyond his ability to imagine. He just didn¡¯t know enough about the field to understand what kind of tech wizardry was going on in those R&D departments involved in making these masterpieces of the modern age.

    But for now, Hunter was going to have to be content with what he had. His third arm was basically a wooden contraption that he could attach to a bench and hold his tools, or the construct, in place. Freehand soldering usually caused his hand to tremble slightly, which could be detrimental to the final product. It wasn¡¯t so bad if he was doing quick fixes at a jobsite, but when he was redesigning or upgrading a construct entirely, the ability to use his hands to move the construct while the arm held the drawstone-solder was a lifesaver. It allowed his final work to be just as precise, if not more precise, than any other artisan.

    It could also hold a battery out of the way, keeping the attached wires vertical, enabling more freedom of movement, and he¡¯d be able to work with some trickier angles than he would have been able to do without the arms assistance. Joyce had said that they wouldn¡¯t just judge the creativity and output of a construct, the ¡®expert touch¡¯ she mentioned would imply that they would look for clean and elegant work, which meant the third arm was an absolute necessity. He was going to catch some attention, brining it in with him, but that was always going to be the case. Word would have gotten around by now about David Nettle and his team¡¯s conversation. Whether they realized he was actually Gideon Koar¡¯s son or not would be irrelevant. Anyone with the name Koar would be drawing attention to themselves in a competition like this.

    He thought back to his affinity result. How incredibly bittersweet. His affinity had finally risen, and it had only taken over a decade to make him slightly more suited towards Artisanry than the average toddler.

    Five.

    Pathetic, yet encouraging.

    It was one of those symbols his father was always so fond of. Most would see it as a curse, and Hunter would agree.

    But today, ¡®five¡¯ didn¡¯t just mean weakness, it meant growth.

    It meant having more of a chance than he thought he had the day before.

    So he would carry in his wooden arm, his batteries, and his custom tools, with his head held as high as he could for as long as he could.

    <hr>

    Hunter had heard the phrase famous last words before, but he¡¯d always considered himself beyond it.

    Carrying the arm, the batteries, and the custom tools had been challenging. Keeping his head held high was proving to be impossible. He had to stop every 30 or 40 yards to take a break. By the time he had made it to the stadium, he was sweating. He¡¯d asked for assistance once he actually made it to the stadium, since at that point he¡¯d realized that his goal of projecting confidence was going to have to wait. He¡¯d have to ask if he could leave his stuff at the stadium overnight. Who he¡¯d ask, he had no idea. He¡¯d figure it out. If not, then he would only have to worry about carrying this stuff around for today and tomorrow. It was a small comfort.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    The stadium was much more active than it had been the day before. Not as packed as it would have been if there were a sporting event going on, but the amount of people was still intimidating to him. He couldn¡¯t remember the last time he¡¯d seen more than a couple of hundred people in the same place all at once. It wondered how that might affect how he performed. Was there such a thing as performance anxiety when creating constructs?

    He¡¯d never really been in front of a large crowd, save the gathered teams he¡¯d had to endure being humiliated in front of the day before. There had also been his last day he¡¯d attended school, which had mirrored the previous day quite similarly, only without all of his closest ¡®friends¡¯ looking at him like he had just grown three more eyes and sprouted gills. The sense of rejection, of betrayal, and utter loneliness was something that Hunter had never encounter before.

    It was easy to ignore at this point, and he barely noticed it after he¡¯d left the registration room. Jimmy had proven a sufficient distraction. Hunter felt better that Jimmy was around, watching the competition. The assurance that Trey Oberon would be watching how the competition unfolded had done a lot of soothe Hunter¡¯s anxieties about how this would all turn out. His fate felt a bit less uncertain, even if the specific direction it would take after the competition was still to be decided, so Hunter was going to go all out. His future was worth the effort.

    Whatever Oberon, or the rest of the world gained from the the work he revealed today, they could have it. It would be the cost he¡¯d pay to secure his dreams. And there would always be more synergies, Hunter imagined. He wasn¡¯t quite sure how he knew, but he intuited that he was barely scratching the surface of what etherium had to offer. It was just one of those feelings he got whenever etherium was concerned.

    He was excited about the future. He let that excitement keep his mood high as he was escorted out to the assembly point for all of the contestants. He had imagined that the stadium would be covered in turf, but they¡¯d apparently gotten rid of it for the day, covering the concrete ground in carpet. He couldn¡¯t tell if the entire floor was carpeted, as only half of the the arena was visible, which seemed ample room for the 50 workbenches which had been set up. Hunter was led to a workbench, and ignored the looks all the other teams were giving him.

    His workbench was near the middle of the bunch, which made him feel more visible to the other teams yet less visible to the crowd, even though the crowd would be elevated. The gathered spectators only seemed to take up a quarter of the available seats, the closest of which were situated just above the entrance where Hunter had emerged from.

    Hunter took the time to set up his arm, and a messenger came to his workbench with a bag full of charged etherium batteries. Hunter sighed in relief. He¡¯d wondered if they¡¯d remembered. He¡¯d thought about asking someone along the way, but he figured that the few that he¡¯d brought himself would be more than enough for the first round. A test of the fundamentals wouldn¡¯t be too ether-demanding, at least while he assembled the construct. As long as the construct didn¡¯t demand anything over an affinity of 10, he was absolute confidence in advancing without making waves. Anymore than 10 and he¡¯d have to start taking risks.

    Soon, all of the teams were assembled. Hunter was still drawing gazes. David Nettle¡¯s team was sneering and laughing as they¡¯d passed each other, and another team near them had studied the object of their ridicule. Hunter could hear David informing them about his name and affinity. Hunter had caught a few looks from them, which varied from curiosity to mild disdain. Not that it mattered. Any of the other teams who recognized him from the affinity test either ignored him or gave him the same looks that he¡¯d seen from David¡¯s group, which only got worse after the batteries were dropped off and the arm was installed on his workbench.

    ¡°Hey, are you even allowed to use that?¡± Someone from the team nearest him asked. Hunter ignored them.

    There wasn¡¯t much else he needed to do in order to set up. He¡¯d have to wait until the specifics of the round were announced. They would hand out relevant materials just prior. All he had to do was wait.

    ¡°Don¡¯t ignore me, do they know that you¡¯re using unapproved tools for the competition?¡±

    Hunter shook his head. He was getting annoyed.

    ¡°They¡¯re approved,¡± he said.

    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯ll see,¡± the guys said, flagging a nearby attendant and pointing to Hunter, ¡°Hey, I think he¡¯s using unapproved tools.¡±

    She approached Hunters workbench, and Hunter explained the situation. She checked one of the lists in her hand, referencing his workbench number and nodding again.

    ¡°It¡¯s all been approved,¡± she said to the other team. Hunter didn¡¯t bother watching their reactions. He didn¡¯t care, but he did feel some satisfaction.

    He silently thanked Joyce and the competitions organizers for letting their staff know about his situation. He imagined it would be a painful process explaining himself to everyone who raised a complaint.

    A voice cut through the soft sea of voices as the teams were discussing amongst themselves.

    ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the 10th annual Global Youth Artisan Competition, held in our great capital. We at Oberon Enterprise have fostered a deep passion for etherium. We¡¯ve long prided ourselves on the advancements we have contributed to the field. Today, we celebrates the spirit of all the young men and women who have come to showcase that same passion to you now as they all compete for the coveted grand prize, a full team sponsorship to the Barnum Academy of Excellence, and 100 000 credits¡ª a small investment towards a bright future for the victors who emerge today,¡± the announcer said. Her voice was rich and upbeat, he would have sworn it was pre-recorded if she wasn¡¯t standing up a small stage just ahead of the assembled teams.

    She addressed the crowd, rather than the teams, but she held everyone¡¯s attention.

    ¡°As you all know, the competition will be held in three rounds. The first round will be a test of fundamental knowledge, as the teams will be tasked with designing and assembling an ether-battery from scratch. The specifics of the design will be up to them, but it will have to be designed for a construct with an affinity requirement of no less than 15, and no greater than 20. The battery will be stress tested for its maximum capacity and output, so make sure its built to last!¡±

    Hunter groaned, but after some rapid thinking, he realized that it wouldn¡¯t be too difficult. Ether batteries were pretty simple compared to some of the things he¡¯d been expecting. And considering that it was just a battery, and not an entire construct, he¡¯d have a bit more freedom with how he approached the project.

    A construct with an affinity requirement of 15 and a battery that could output an affinity equivalent of 15 were two different things. It wouldn¡¯t be his first time designing a battery. Some of the batteries he owned were ones that he¡¯d upgraded with a few new features, but this time he¡¯d be able to create one from scratch, which would mean it would work even better than the ones he¡¯d modified, a couple of which were here with him today.

    ¡°The attendants will now be handing out your materials. You will have a maximum of 3 hours to design and assemble your batteries. Contestants, your current workbenches are the Oberon Standard Workbench which we would typically use in our own facilities. It comes equipped with all the tools you will need to machine the parts of your batteries. The handles on the left and right side of the bench can be pulled out.¡±

    Hunter pulled out the drawers, surprised by how heavy they were for him. Most people wouldn¡¯t have much trouble, but Hunter had to grunt a bit to get them open. He whistled when he saw their contents. A miniature lathe, a small hydraulic press, and a few precision machining tools for cutting and sanding materials were all provided on either side of the bench. Fortunately, Hunter had attached his arm to the backside of the workbench¡¯s desk, so he didn¡¯t have to move it to accommodate the machinery.

    He did briefly wonder how they¡¯d moved all of these benches in here in the first place. They must have had them driven in and placed with a bunch of ether-assisted tech. He knew that the the Council¡¯s security forces had power suits that could help the user lift heavy objects, he wondered if they had industrial versions of those, or maybe an ether-assisted forklift.

    Hunter had still wanted to get his hands on one of those. He¡¯d yet to study the Lift glyph in depth, although he¡¯d discovered his own variations of the Force and Reinforce glyphs during his research. Synergizing those glyphs with an improved network might not be as efficient as it would be to replace both of them with a single new glyph, however, and he wondered how the Lift glyph affected the rest of the network¡¯s syntax.

    A problem for another day, he mused, getting his tools ready and doing a final inspection of the machines attached to his desk. He would need to get his hands on one of these, eventually. He would add it to this list, probably before he got a personal computer. The teams were given 20 minutes to discuss their plan while a small army of attendants to handed out all of the material, with teams able to ask for specific materials to be added or taken away based on their planned design.

    Hunter observed what he was given. He didn¡¯t make any additional requests, the base materials he was given would be enough for what he had planned.

    ¡°Teams,¡± the announcer spoke once all the teams had received their share, ¡°the first round of the competition starts now. Good luck!¡±

    Hunter closed his eyes, took a deep breath, reviewed his plan.

    He smiled.

    This was what he was good at. Screw knowledge tests. This was practically his home. He didn¡¯t have much experience with these machining tools, but he did know how to operate them. They were all electronic, so he wasn¡¯t afraid of getting exhausted from having to power them himself.

    He opened his eyes and got to work.

 Chapter 9

    A large clock was hung up behind the stage, counting down from 3 hours. He didn¡¯t spend more than a few seconds getting himself prepared for what he needed to do. The next few hour were going to be a grind.

    He took stock of the materials given. Some thin iron plates for the chassis, a hollow brick made of bronze for the channels to be carved into, and some wood and plastic to be used at the contestants discrimination.

    Ether batteries were relatively simple. A trained hand could assemble one in 10 minutes flat¡ª given they had all the parts made and ready in front of them. Batteries could come in many shape and sizes, but Hunter wasn¡¯t planning on being fancy. A simple brick-shaped construct would do the trick. He was going to sacrifice some style points, but he was hoping that the additions to the batteries function, and the clean network schematic he had planned would gain the judges approval and qualify him for the second round.

    A basic battery performed the function of keeping the etherium flowing in a loop until it found a ground¡ª in this case the ground for ether was always an activated drawstone. Luckily for Hunter, the drawstone only needs to be activated for a split second while the battery is attached and activated. It was why a human element was necessary to use a construct, etherium would only flow into or through a drawstone that a human was touching. But long ago, researchers found that the ether will continue to flow through a construct from a battery after the activating drawstone was released.

    It appeared that once ether was flowing, it wouldn¡¯t stop until it ran out, or its source was cut off. That was why there were different affinity ratings for different constructs. If your affinity was too low, you would have too much etherium drawn from you at once. No one had been able to prove it, but it was widely assumed that the body had channels for the ether to flow through, channels that directly affected the body.

    A body that wasn¡¯t acclimated to ether, and unable to bare a sudden increase in the amount of etherium flowing through it, could be strained to unhealthy degrees. A common sign of overuse of ether was a deep exhaustion, as if the whole body had just been under enormous pressure, and that it had taken all of the persons strength to support itself.

    This was why Hunter needed to be careful when he was working. Too much etherium exposure would probably render him unconscious, unable to move for a few days. It took time to train the body enough to support more etherium, this was how Affinity would usually rise¡ª the more you channel etherium through the body, the more etherium the body can handle.

    But Hunter was a rare specimen. Asking him to design and create a construct with an affinity requirement of 15 could be seen as unfair¡ª but Hunter knew how to get around his limitations. He¡¯d been doing it for years, and improving his methods.

    He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would be able to meet the minimum specifications of this round. He knew that his modifications¡ª multiple output options, as well as a way to not only measure, but manually change the AR equivalence¡ª would define him as a solid contender for the rest of the competition, so long as the final two rounds provided reasonable challenges.

    Hunter knew that it would get Trey Oberon¡¯s attention. But would it impress him?

    If he wanted to impress him, he would need to go the extra mile, which was necessitated by the fact that he was going to need to be conservative with the materials he¡¯d been given.

    With the extraneous design elements, he¡¯ll be forced to create a smaller battery, which means he¡¯ll need to make a more efficient battery. Most of the internal space of a battery was taken up by a swirling design of etched channels and Link glyphs. The basic design of these batteries hadn¡¯t changed in decades, the only improvements being the amount channels that could be etched into a surface. Machines were now designed to create very fine channels, etched incredibly close together. Etherium had never been measured in volume¡ª it was such an illusive substance¡ª but it¡¯s been discovered that you could fit quite a bit of a charge into a single drawstone, which is much more than a single thread created out of finely ground drawstones, but the principle carried over. Despite appearances, even simple batteries could hold quite a bit of charge.

    The biggest challenge was outputting the stored etherium. In order to stop it all from releasing at once, artisans had to design a way to restrict the flow of etherium. To that end, someone long ago discovered that another partial glyph, like the Link glyph his father had discovered and popularized, appeared to slow the flow of ether. It was called Channel Resistance, which was usually shortened to Res. The more Res glyphs you networked into your construct, the slower the etherium would flow, but only until it met another glyph.

    There was also a hard limit on the amount of Res glyphs that you could use, and the way the glyph performed was highly unreliable. It would work with some constructs, but not others. The mechanism, to the mainstream, wasn¡¯t very well known. Hunter, however, had his own intuition about this that his synergy theory seemed to explain quite nicely.

    Channel Resistance had a certain desire to it, and its desire would conflict with other etheric desires, or ¡®charges.¡¯

    Hunter was almost certain that people hypothesized about synergies, or something similar, but they didn¡¯t have Hunters sensitivity to etherium, so they would be working in the dark¡ª they wouldn¡¯t recognize if any result they found would verify or falsify their hypothesis.

    Hunter silently thanked his father. He often believed that his father had a similar sensitivity¡ª but Hunter thought that it was stronger in him than it was in his dad. There is no way his dad would miss all these synergistic benefits if he¡¯d felt what hunter did when etherium was pulled through a drawstone and into a glyph network.

    Sometimes he wondered why he, of all people, felt what he felt, but he¡¯d yet to find any proof to back up the idea that he''d inherited a mutation. The only person he''d be able to ask was his dad, so he was out of luck. He also wondered if whatever was behind his sensitivity was behind his affinity handicap.

    There was no way of finding out, at least not yet. One day he¡¯d get to the bottom of it, and maybe even fix his handicap.

    As Hunter thought, his hands had been busy. He didn¡¯t know how long the judges would be testing the battery for, so he went with the assumption that it would be tested indefinitely. That meant it would need to be able to hold a charge for as long as possible, which meant it would need more channels. This would be the most tedious part of the build. He quickly sketched out a plan, but decided to pull out one of his secret techniques¡ª instead of having spirals of channels that met up with a bunch of strategically place link glyphs, he created a crosshatch pattern along the surface of the copper brick they¡¯d been given. He¡¯d made one out of wood before, but it was a much simpler project. Channels carved in wood could become uneven due to the woods¡¯ grain, and this project demanded nothing short of perfection.

    The material wasn¡¯t as important as the channels. The copper brick was both a challenge and a boon. It meant mistakes would be more difficult to work around, and etching would also be a little bit more time consuming¡ª the benefit was a product that would be sturdier, last longer, and a material that could be recycled if they needed it for something else.

    He linked his crosshatched channels to a few link glyphs, and prepared another material that would hold all of the Res glyphs which he would install later.

    He planned to have the Res glyphs attached to a series of latches that could be pulled or released. He had a design in mind, one that he¡¯d used a few times before and would be relatively quick to craft, but what it added in ease of assembly it lacked in durability. Hopefully they wouldn¡¯t play around with the switches too much, or his extra work would be wasted when a few of the glyphs failed to align properly.

    Lining up the crosshatch output to the final link glyph would be the most time consuming part of the job, as he would need to check quite a few intersections along the way to ensure that his design was conducting etherium the way he hoped it was. The crosshatch would allow for the etherium to flow a lot more freely, and it would distribute itself much more efficiently than it would in a normal battery. Etherium was kind of like water, in that way. It would fill the container it was poured into.

    Using this crosshatch would bypass the need for extraneous materials. Most people thought that more spiral channels to cycle the etherium meant the stored etherium charge would last longer¡ª but Hunter discovered that you didn¡¯t need to cycle the etherium at all. At least, not directly. It would create its own cycle if you gave it an environment with enough free movement. The few link glyphs he¡¯d placed strategically would act like whirlpools, which would pull etherium in and then spit it back out without a change in its state, or its desire¡ª its ¡®charge¡¯ wouldn¡¯t change. But as it left, it would leave room in the glyph for more etherium to enter.

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    He had to add at least four glyphs to ensure that all of the etherium stored in the crosshatch channels would move. Etherium that wasn¡¯t in motion through a channel would dissipate. No one knew why, and Hunter didn¡¯t know either. Whether it was a natural property of etherium, or a consequence of using drawstones as a medium of conducting etherium was unknown.

    A few quick tests assured him that his design worked. The crosshatch channels and the glyphs didn¡¯t take too long to carve. He cut the wood into thin rods which he would attach to the longest lines of the chassis he¡¯d assembled¡ª a rectangular prism measuring 10 by 5 inches¡ª which would act as guides. so that it would be easier to line up the copper brick and the etched channels with the Res glyphs he was etching into the latches. The switches he would soon install on the side of the chassis would allow the battery¡¯s user to toggle through the different output settings.

    Hunter paused, and slapped himself on the side of the head. He can¡¯t believe he¡¯d been so shortsighted.

    Why go through the trouble of setting up as series of binary switches, when a sliding switch would be able to do the job more easily. Thankfully, he wasn¡¯t too far into the design. He could use the latches he¡¯d just created, but now he would just have to line them along the inner wall of the chassis. He could also carve along one of the material guides he¡¯d already installed into the chassis in order to conduct the etherium to the Res Glyphs and into the output nodes.

    He took off one of the walls of the batteries¡¯ case, made the changes he imagined, and lined up the latches. The latches were attached to a series of plastic strips with various lengths, which would drag the latches into place as the slider moved. Using a latch-like design made it a bit more difficult for the pieces to move once they were in place, which made the construct feel much more professional. It would take a small bit of effort to move the slider back, but it wouldn¡¯t damage the latches too much. As long as they weren¡¯t constantly spamming the slider side to side, it should stand up to whatever they throw at it during the assessment period.

    The latches were assembled vertically. Once one was in place, the slider would begin to pull the next latch into place. This way, the user would always be in control of exactly how much resistance was in place.

    He looked up at the clock. One hour remaining.

    The battery was done, the sliding switch was done, all he had to do now was test his work thoroughly. He thanked himself once again for bringing the third arm, and changed out the battery that he¡¯d been using. He attached the new battery to various points along the copper brick, then the brick and various latches simultaneously, and tested what he felt when the switch was at its different activation points.

    It worked. He machined and installed the battery¡¯s input and output sockets along the case, then tested the battery one more time from both ends. It still worked.

    He glanced back at the clock. 10 more minutes.

    He assembled it all together as carefully as he could. At this point, his hands were shaking and he felt like he could sleep for a few good hours. Constantly activating the batteries drained him, but at this point it was nothing he wasn¡¯t used to.

    He dreaded what the next day would bring. There would be two rounds tomorrow, and he hoped he had enough stamina to get through them both.

    He was proud of his final product. If he had more time and AR, he¡¯d have loved to use a cylinder¡ª the shape that Oberon typically used for its last few generations of ether batteries. But designing around a cylinder would been incredibly tedious and time consuming. The crosshatch would have worked, but carving it on a rounded surface was a bit different than a flat surface like the small copper brick. It would have been a lot more difficult to design as switch for it as well. Not impossible, but he would want a lot more time to plan and create that sort of thing.

    It would have looked cooler, though. Apparently, that¡¯s worth points. As the clock counted down the final few minutes, he saw that most of the other teams were done. The team nearest him, the one that had tried to get him disqualified, had created a sphere.

    Which seemed silly, but he wasn¡¯t going to judge. They had people here who would do that for him.

    Hunter was proud of his work. It was a simple, if challenging round. He only hoped that it would be enough to impress the judges.

    He studied the attitudes of the teams around him. Most seemed happy with how things turned out. Despite having more manpower than him, it appeared that they¡¯d all taken about the same amount of time that he had.

    He was surprised that the crowd had stayed the same size. They were probably family and friends, following these teams to Oberon¡¯s domain from all around the world.

    He felt a rare moment of self pity, but he didn¡¯t have much time to wallow in it. The clock struck zero, and a buzzer sounded.

    ¡°Contestants, your time is up. An attendant will soon arrive to collect your battery. If there is anything that you want the judges to know about your submission, you can tell the attendant and they¡¯ll write it down. Results will be announced at 4 p.m., and will also be posted near the entrance of the stadium in case you miss the announcement in person. For those of you who aren¡¯t selected to pass on to the next round, Oberon Enterprises thanks you for participating in this years Global Youth Artisan Competition! All disqualified participants may remain for the remainder of the competition to cheer on all of the remaining teams. To those who are selected for round two, I congratulate you in advance and look forward to seeing you here tomorrow!¡±

    The battery that he¡¯d made seemed so small and light for all the weight he was placing on it.

    As the attendants filtered through the stadium, he saw other designs when they passed his workstation. Some seemed similar to his, encased in either a cubic or rectangular chassis. Others appeared utterly open and exposed¡ª a bold choice, but Hunter would bet that it was incompetence, rather than confidence. Still, all the attendants had apparently been trained in professional etiquette, not a single look of disapproval was to be seen.

    Other teams showed no such restraint. The derision Hunter was enjoying earlier was now directed elsewhere, in all directions.

    An attendant showed up to take Hunters entry, and he briefed her on his design choices. She nodded, exposing not a shred of an opinion about his entry. A couple of teams noticed his battery and pointed at it, discussing amongst themselves. Hunter didn¡¯t think too much of it, they were doing it with every entry that passed by close enough to observe.

    Hunter was confident that there would be very few teams who had a similar product to his, functionally speaking. The crosshatch was something he invented himself, inspired by design elements he¡¯d seen his father experimenting with years ago as well as some exploration of his own over the last few years. The typical spiraling-channel design would make it far more difficult to manually change the batteries output¡ª the channels would take up most of the batteries space, and the Res glyphs would need to be precise. The crosshatch allowed for dynamism in the ether¡¯s flow. The typical battery design didn¡¯t come close.

    The spirals created a situation where the ether could only flow in one direction once it met the res glyph, the sudden bottleneck would always lead to a some dissipation. The crosshatch allowed the ether to find new avenues to flow through when it encountered the Res glyphs. Less dissipation, more efficient design, better product.

    He imagined that Oberon Enterprises was going to be very ¡®inspired¡¯ by his submission. Although he presumed they¡¯d include him in any deal to distribute it as their own.

    They were here to attract talent after all, not to push talent away.

    Hunter had about 80 credits left from the 95 he¡¯d brought with him. He had spent 5 at the cafe back in Seckina, and he figured he¡¯d earned himself another coffee. He was gonna need it.

    He followed the other teams out of the stadium. As he left the stadium lobby and breathed in the fresh Capital air, he was stopped by a young man he recognized from the competition.

    ¡°Hunter, right?¡±

    Hunter considered ignoring them. He was exhausted, he needed a coffee, or a nap. But the young man¡¯s posture didn¡¯t seem confrontational. Hunter mentally crossed his fingers that this conversation wouldn¡¯t take long.

    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Hunter said.

    The young man scratched the back of his head and grinned.

    ¡°Sorry about how other teams were treating you, but we come in peace, promise,¡± he said. Hunter felt incredibly tense. He took a deep breath and relaxed.

    ¡°Yeah, sorry. It¡¯s been a long day already,¡± Hunter said.

    ¡°Me and the team were about to grab something to eat. You want to come join us?¡± the young man asked.

    ¡°Sure, I was gonna grab some coffee anyways.¡± Hunter said after considering it for a second. He needed more information about the competition, and thought that these people might be able to help him with that. Besides, if these they ended up proving difficult to get along with, he could just leave.

    ¡°Great!¡± the young man said, holding out his hand for Hunter to shake, ¡°I¡¯m Jeremy.¡±

    ¡°Hunter. Koar,¡± Hunter said, shaking the offered hand.

    ¡°Yeah, we heard,¡± someone else, Hunter presumed it was one of Jeremy¡¯s teammates said as three others gathered around Jeremy.

    ¡°Nicole,¡± one of them stepped forward to introduce herself. She was shorter than average, and had glasses that looked like they could see into another galaxy.

    Jeremey gestured to the rest of the team.

    ¡°This is Stephan,¡± he said, indicating someone who was about as tall as Hunter. Stephan nodded with a smile, ¡°and Rodney.¡±

    Rodney had his arms crossed and looked at Hunter doubtfully. He offered a short nod and looked away.

    ¡°Don¡¯t take it personally,¡± Nicole said, ¡°he¡¯s like that with everyone until he gets to know them.¡±

    ¡°You know the type, brilliant enough that they can¡¯t understand why normal people aren¡¯t able to keep up with them,¡± Stephan said, earning a scowl from Rodney.

    Hunter frowned but nodded.

    He didn¡¯t know the type, and wasn''t sure that he and Rodney were going to get along.

    ¡°Alright,¡± Hunter said, ¡°are we getting coffee?¡±

    Nicole nodded enthusiastically.

 Chapter 10

    ¡°They have a lot of great places around here, but there¡¯s one specifically that¡¯s a bit of a hole in the wall and easy to miss¡ª but they¡¯ve got all sorts of stuff,¡± she said, leading the way.

    Hunter followed, feeling like every step was a labor worthy of being written as a historical epic. The team chatted amongst themselves as they walked, and Hunter tried to listen. So far, none of them had shown any sign of the arrogance he had expected to see from the rest of the teams. He wondered why they¡¯d invited him to come along with them.

    Hunter realized that if he wasn¡¯t so exhausted, he might even feel flattered, or incredibly suspicious. But whenever he got this way, anything other than a bland neutrality took a supreme effort of will¡ª an effort that didn¡¯t seem warranted at the moment.

    They reached the cafe. Nicole was right, if he wasn¡¯t looking for it, he¡¯d have missed it. But it was busy inside. A few other teams he recognized were seated around the cafe. Some gave the team and Hunter a double-take when they realized he was with them, making comments and laughing. If it bothered Jeremy and the crew, they didn¡¯t show it.

    They talked a bit about their expectations. They said they were shooting for four stars, but you could never really know what to expect from the judges. Hunter asked them what they meant by four stars. They seemed surprised to hear the question, but humored him by answering.

    ¡°Each judge will give a star if they believe your work deserves a pass. There are 7 judges, so 7 stars is the maximum. Its hard to please them all, everyone¡¯s got their own idea about what constitutes a worthy submission. Most teams squeak through the first round with 4 stars. 5 to 7 stars gets increasingly more rare¡ª only one or two teams receive 7 star scores, and 3 or 4 will receive 6 stars. Those handful of teams are typically the ones with the highest chance of making it to the end if they don¡¯t screw up royally in the second round.

    ¡°So how do you think you did?¡± Jeremy asked Hunter once they all sat down around a small table. Hunter sipped his coffee, and delighted in the creamy, sugary concoction. Rodney had watched him pile in the sugar with horror, looking at Hunter like he¡¯d just thrown an egg at a nun.

    Hunter loved coffee, but he couldn¡¯t stand the taste of the stuff¡ª yet couldn¡¯t argue with its effectiveness. He¡¯d grown to rely on it, and if he couldn¡¯t live without it then he was going to live with it on his own terms, and enjoy it.

    It was one of the few areas of his life he felt he had full control over, and damnit, he was going to indulge in it as much as he could.

    ¡°Of course I can¡¯t be sure, but I like my odds,¡± Hunter answered.

    Rodney raised an eyebrow, but declined to offer whatever was on his mind to the rest of the team.

    ¡°It was just a battery. Four pairs of hands made for pretty quick work,¡± Nicole said, flexing her arms.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t our first time making a battery, we build a bunch for our school back in Lum,¡± Jeremy told Hunter.

    ¡°You¡¯re all from Lumina?¡± Hunter asked. One of his least favorite of the Council Seats. Not that he held it against these guys.

    ¡°Born and raised, except for me,¡± Nicole said.

    ¡°The rest of us grew up together. Rodney¡¯s a couple of years younger than the rest of us but was able to skip a couple of grades. He joined our club as soon as he could. Nicole came from the Smith domain a year later. We¡¯ve been competing in various local competitions ever since.¡±

    Hunter had always wondered what it would be like to join a club.

    ¡°You say you¡¯re confident in your submission for the first round?¡± Rodney asked, apparently still thinking about what Hunter had said.

    Hunter nodded.

    ¡°I¡¯m skeptical,¡± Rodney said, crossing his arms again.

    ¡°Okay,¡± Hunter said, losing all interest in the conversation.

    ¡°It took two of us to machine the parts, and the other two took an hour to carve all the ether channels. I can¡¯t imagine you were able to get all of that work done on your own,¡± Rodney said, his voice raising slightly.

    Hunter shrugged.

    He wanted to tell Rodney that it wasn¡¯t any of his business how he designed and created his submission, but he was too tired to start an argument, he was also enjoying their company for the most part.

    ¡°He probably cheated,¡± someone said, from directly behind Hunter. Hunter closed his eyes, he recognized the voice. David Nettle.

    Hunter stood and thanked the team for the coffee, but this whole situation was not worth the effort. He had no patience for any drama at the moment.

    ¡°Not gonna speak up for yourself? Guilty conscience?¡± David asked, his team blocked the way out of the cafe. Hunter noticed a few of the staff looking at them curiously.

    ¡°Come on, Hunter. Admit it, there¡¯s no way someone with an affinity rating of five could even hope to complete the first round of the competition on their own. What do you even plan to accomplish here, anyways?¡± David asked. His team nodded, as if they were all dying to know.

    ¡°Why is it any of your business?¡± Hunter asked, each word felt like it carried a ten pound weight.

    He¡¯d believed that their issue with him had been purely strategic. Maybe he¡¯d overestimated them.

    Maybe they really were just a bunch of jerks with hyperinflated egos.

    ¡°Leave him alone. What¡¯s your problem?¡± Jeremy asked, his team gathering behind Hunter.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. Go drink your coffees,¡± one of David¡¯s team members waved Jeremy off.

    Rodney seemed to take that personally.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have even the most miniscule trace of a right to wave that disease-ridden paw towards my friends. You talk to us like that again, I will make it my life¡¯s mission to capsize your career before it begins. I will humiliate you. Do you understand me? Do you think I''m joking? Jeremy, tell him I''m not joking. Tell him about¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªRelax, Rod,¡± Jeremy said. David was about to say something but Jeremy held up a finger, ¡°Shut up.¡±

    David¡¯s eyes seemed to inflame, almost bursting forth from their sockets. His face went red.

    ¡°Do you have any idea who I am? Do you know who my father is? I swear, you won¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªEnough! Get out of my cafe before I call ¡®enforcement!¡± A loud, bassey voice echoed off the cafe¡¯s walls. Everyone went quiet. A portly man wearing an apron with the word ¡®manager¡¯ printed on it was pointed towards the door.

    David looked at the manager like he¡¯d just spit in his food, but he said nothing as he turned and started to leave. He paused and looked back at Hunter and Jeremy¡¯s team.

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    ¡°This isn¡¯t over,¡± David said, storming away with the rest of his team giving them looks which Hunter was sure were meant to be menacing. Maybe at another time they would be.

    But he was even more tired now than he was even a few minutes ago.

    ¡°Sorry about that,¡± Hunter said to the team as they followed David¡¯s team out.

    ¡°Don¡¯t apologize, you can¡¯t reason with people like him,¡± Nicole said, ¡°total narcissist.¡±

    ¡°You said the same thing about me,¡± Rodney scoffed.

    ¡°Was I wrong?¡±

    He shot her a disdainful look.

    ¡°I rest my case,¡± she said.

    Jeremy sighed and shook his head.

    ¡°We saw how the other teams were treating you. I guess we just wanted you to know that you we aren¡¯t all assholes, we don¡¯t really care what name you were born with. Even if you are the son of Gideon Koar, I¡¯d say that just means you have an advantage that we don¡¯t. Low AR or not,¡± he said.

    Hunter considered his words.

    They didn¡¯t have to stand up for him back there, and its not like he was going to argue. Being Gideon Koar''s¡¯ son came with sorts of advantages in the realm of ether artisanship.

    ¡°I appreciate it,¡± he said. And he did, even through the near-apathetic fugue he was currently feeling, ¡°if we all make it through the second round, let¡¯s do this again. Maybe somewhere a bit less popular?¡±

    He looked at Nicole. She shrugged.

    ¡°There¡¯s more than one good spot around town.¡±

    ¡°Deal,¡± Jeremey said.

    Hunter nodded.

    They parted ways after Hunter admitted that he was absolutely exhausted and he doubted the coffee was going to help. He imagined he might miss announcement of the first rounds results, so he¡¯ll probably see Jeremy and the team tomorrow if they all passed the round.

    He didn¡¯t remember making it back to the suite, or getting into bed, but when he woke up he felt a lot better, if still a bit tired.

    He thought over the first round of the competition, and admitted that he might have a problem. That first round had exhausted him. Granted, he had already been tired from lugging around all of his stuff. The competition staff had been kind enough to let him store all of his supplies at the stadium overnight in a private locker.

    But tomorrow would have two rounds, almost back to back. He needed a way to stay awake, and energized, if he was going to win.

    He figured that what he¡¯d done with the first round wouldn¡¯t be enough to set hunter apart very much from the rest of the competition. Sure, the crosshatch channels were probably a novel innovation in the judges eyes, and the slider switch wasn¡¯t exactly unheard of but might be unique amongst the rest of the submissions.

    Although, Hunter couldn¡¯t be quite sure of that. These were teams¡ª more hands to craft more components. Maybe most of the other teams had done something similar. He hadn¡¯t really had the energy or interest to discuss his submission with Jeremy and the crew.

    Maybe they¡¯ll get time to talk more enthusiastically tomorrow, if he could keep his energy up.

    Now that he was feeling a bit better, he figured it was time to go and see if he¡¯d made the cut.

    He showered but wore the same clothes as he was wearing earlier. He only had one more set of clothes for the next day, and he figured he wouldn¡¯t be out for long. He checked the time¡ª the results had been announced a couple of hours ago. But the stadium should be open to the public for another couple of hours at least.

    The sun was starting to set over the Oberon Capital city, and he felt strange. Back in Seckina he¡¯d either be home, or would have been on his way home by now. He never felt comfortable taking his chances with the Comics or any of their rival gangs skulking about. Low visibility would also mean that he could trip and break a bone, and bruise half of his body.

    He was sure that the Oberon Capital must have had its own crime problems, but from what he¡¯d heard throughout his life, this was one of the safest cities to live in. And this city was bright, lights were everywhere¡ª streetlights, shops, apartment buildings, advertisements at bus stops.

    He could feel the life of this city, something that Seckina didn¡¯t have. He could see it in the faces of the smiling families who walked together, in the wagging tails of their dogs, in the faces of passing businessmen and delivery drivers, who all appeared to be on their way somewhere, but totally unconcerned about their safety.

    Compared to Seckina, the capital city felt vibrant, and pulsing with life. Even the homeless were smiling, not that there were many homeless. Hunter passed one by on his way to the stadium, and he figured he could spare a credit. He dropped it into the empty coffee cup the man was holding out. The homeless man touched his hand to his chest and bowed his head. As hunter went on his way, the man yelled to him, ¡°Fortune favors the brave!¡±

    Then go be brave, he thought, chuckling to himself. Anyone who remained homeless either chose to be that way or would never be able to support themselves. He didn¡¯t mind giving a credit if he could, but their were plenty of corporate programs that offered housing and food in exchange for cheap labor, with some savings and incentive programs. If this guy wasn¡¯t there, then it could also be the case that he had a couple of problems that no one wanted to deal with¡ª like shouting empty platitudes at strangers.

    Not that he was going to judge the man. Hunter felt like he was walking a very risky path that could very well see him end up in a situation that wasn¡¯t much better than the homeless guy.

    Fortune favors the brave. Hopefully he¡¯s right. If what Hunter was doing wasn¡¯t brave, then he didn¡¯t know what was.

    Hunter wasn¡¯t sure how much bravery was going to help him here. He¡¯d been brave when he¡¯d signed up for the preliminary test, but he¡¯d failed that, only making it here based on Joyce¡¯s intervention and recommendation.

    But when Hunter thought about it, it hadn¡¯t really been bravery that had led him to that test. It had been desperation.

    He wanted to feel confident, but as he got closer to the stadium, he felt like it was getting harder to justify his initial certainty about his odds. How could he know what the other teams were capable of? As far as he knew, he¡¯d totally miscalculated, designing something outside the bounds of what the judges were looking for. What if they thought his submission was too complicated? What if they took away stars because he¡¯d overreached, or taken a nonstandard route?

    Joyce had said that the first round was about assessing fundamentals, but he¡¯d gone a completely different direction than the typical fundamentals that he would expect to be taught. Rodney was apparently some genius, and he had hadn¡¯t shown any sign that he considered a simpler channel design pattern to be possible. If he had, then he probably wouldn¡¯t have had so much trouble believing that Hunter was capable of finishing the round on his own.

    Hunter suddenly felt his chest tighten.

    Would that mean that they¡¯d take away stars for using synergies? What had Joyce meant by an experts touch? Did that mean innovation would be rewarded, if it wasn¡¯t a familiar design?

    The area outside the stadium was pretty busy for this time of day. No one recognized him though and he sighed in relief. The last thing he needed right now was for some dickheads to start pestering him about how much his presence bothered them.

    He entered the stadium, and looked around for the display with the results from the first round. The more he thought about the other teams, the less he wanted to risk getting seen by them.

    There was a large board on the far wall. He approached it, and saw columns listing names, next to a number of stars.

    So this was it.

    If he passed, he would have another opportunity to carve out a bright future for himself. The head of Oberon Enterprises would be paying attention.

    If he failed, that attention would mean nothing. His future would go in a direction which might involve decades of cheap labor while he saved every credit he could in order to afford his own home, and a few sweet luxuries.

    A life similar to what he¡¯d been living for years, if he thought about it. But Hunter wanted and needed something more for himself.

    He was the son of Gideon Koar. He wad destined for greatness.

    Steeling himself with his greatest source of pride, he examine the board.

    There were four columns.

    The first column only had a dozen teams on it, all having earned 4 stars. Hunter didn¡¯t see his name listed.

    There were only six 5-star results. Again, Hunter didn¡¯t see his name, but he recognized Jeremy, Nicole, Stephan, and Rodney. They¡¯d done better than they¡¯d hoped.

    He felt nervous.

    He didn¡¯t see his name in the two teams listed in the 6-star column, but he did see David Nettle¡¯s name listed with the rest of his team.

    He held his breath as he looked at the final column.

    ¡°Hunter Koar, 7 Stars¡±

    ¡°YES!¡± He shouted, pumping his fists above his head. He couldn¡¯t stop himself from smiling. He¡¯d gained a few looks from the passing staff and a few others¡ª some despondent looking families that Hunter hadn¡¯t noticed when he¡¯d walked in.

    He almost felt bad for them, but screw it, he was happy. But now that he knew he¡¯d made it, he felt even better than he had from his nap.

    Hunter studied the board again. The other team that had one were composed of names he hadn¡¯t seen before. Jonathan Berrymoore, Tilda Burner, and Philipe Golbrune. Maybe these would be his fiercest competition, aside from the other two teams who¡¯d earned 6 stars.

    Now that he thought about it, he had heard of them before. They¡¯d been mentioned in the news report he heard when he¡¯d heard a couple of days ago. They¡¯d won second place last year.

    The number of teams had been dramatically reduced. Apparently, any score below 4 stars was considered a disqualification. From 50 to 22¡ª over half of the teams had been eliminated in the first round.

    7 stars. All the tension from the last few days felt like they¡¯d bled out of him, replaced with a sense of something warmer, more expansive. It was a unanimous pass.

    His gamble had paid off. Suddenly, he felt much more confident about the next round.

    ¡°See if you can wrap your head around that, Rodney,¡± Hunter muttered as he left the stadium. he wanted to celebrate, but he decided not to.

    Tomorrow was going to be a very long day, and he needed all the rest he could get.

 Chapter 11

    The crowd had grown considerably smaller since the first round, but not as small as Hunter would have expected, given that over half of the teams had been eliminated.

    Perhaps some of those teams had stayed to watch competition, or more older, professional artisans from the city had come to watch. It wouldn¡¯t be a stretch to think that to most people wouldn¡¯t be interested until after the first round.

    ¡°Contestants, welcome to Round 2 of the Global Youth Artisan Competition! The last round tested your fundamentals, and some of you offered the judges a surprise! Congratulations to our two 7-Star winners for impressing every one our judges. We can¡¯t wait to see what you have in store for us next,¡± the announcer was back and she was as enthusiastic as ever. Her upbeat attitude cleared away Hunters nerves and inspired a round of murmuring. Hunter received some looks from the surrounding teams, where there was once skepticism and clear disdain, there was now curiosity and respect.

    Who would have thought that a single evening was all it would take for such a dramatic turnaround.

    Hunter had yet to see David Nettle, he wondered what they¡¯d done when they saw his name up there, with a full score.

    He smiled at the thought.

    ¡°Today is a big day! 22 teams made it through the first round, and only 5 will make it to the third to compete for the grand prize,¡± the announcer said.

    Her words pulled Hunter away from his thoughts.

    Those were steep odds.

    ¡°This year¡¯s second round will be a test of Force! One of the most powerful and widely utilized glyphs¡ª yet one of the most difficult to understand and master. The use of the Force glyph has wounded and killed many aspiring artisans over the decades since its discovery¡ª but its mastery is essential to become a leader in the field of ether artisanship. Wherever your career takes you, the Force glyph will be a constant companion. Although its use is simple, the ways to approach it are manifold. Today, we will be testing your familiarity with this glyph.¡±

    Hunter saw some of the surrounding teams shrugging and laughing, much of the pressure melting away.

    The force glyph could be dangerous, but anyone whose spent enough time studying the glyph and using it in low AR constructs¡ª a limitation all of the contestants would have been working with as their AR¡¯s were still low relative to a fully grown adult¡ª would feel that this round would be far too easy.

    Even Hunter felt skeptical. He would have more of a challenge than the rest of the gathered teams, but it would be much easier than he¡¯d expected the round to be. He wouldn¡¯t even have to reveal too much of his synergy knowledge in order to gain an advantage.

    ¡°Unlike the last round, your submission will be demonstrated and judged publicly. This means that the judging portion will be shorter, and you¡¯ll have more time allotted to you for planning, designing, and crafting your submissions.¡±

    Behind the announcer, a large white curtain was lowered, revealing a machine that Hunter recognized. It was essentially a large, horizontal weight scale. It would directly measure the force exerted by the construct in pounds¡ª or so he assumed.

    The more he had time to think about it, the more this round made sense. The Force glyph may be well known and familiar to all of the contestants present, but that just meant that they¡¯d need to push themselves to create something a bit more unique¡ª to stretch their knowledge to the fullest in order to distinguish their design from someone else.

    ¡°Not only will the the force output by your construct be measured, but the final affinity requirement for the construct will also be factored into your final score. The judges will also grade your craftsmanship with a star system similar to yesterday¡¯s round. You will all be limited to an output plate with the same dimensions. When the materials are handed out to you, you will also be given a small piece of paper with the maximum dimensions of your final submission. Attendants?¡±

    At her beckon, the attendants started to filter through the 22 teams, wheeling in the gathered materials behind them. They¡¯d brought in Hunters¡¯ tools on one of those earlier in the morning when he¡¯d arrived to set up his workstation.

    They were giving the contestants a lot more material to work with for this round, which made sense. Force constructs were easy in principle, but in practice, they could become very complex.

    The paper with the size limitations also mentioned that the teams were free to use as many supporting glyphs as they desire¡ª but each team was limited to the same materials in the same amounts. There would be no substitutions for this round.

    Hunter was starting to see the wisdom in making the second round centered on Force constructs. It was simple on the surface, but each team would be forcing themselves to think outside of the box to leverage every ounce of efficiency that they could. The creativity wouldn¡¯t be in the type of product they made, but in how the product was made. The Force glyph was really only good for one thing. This wasn¡¯t just a test of fundamentals, it was a test of experience.

    Hunter felt like he¡¯d been handed a gift from heaven. They wouldn¡¯t have had any way to know that this was right up his ally. There were practically begging him to pass through to the final round.

    ¡°Contestants, are you ready? You have five hours, starting now!¡±

    The large clock just behind the stage started its countdown.

    Five hours. Plenty of time.

    He took some time to center himself. He could hear the other teams discussing their strategy. He couldn¡¯t make out specifics, only murmuring and enthusiastic rebuttals. Despite the chaos of the hubbub, Hunter could predict most of their strategies.

    There were quite a few considerations to be mindful of when you were designing a construct. Glyph size, glyph placement, and the amount of glyphs you had networked together. A glyph on its own was one thing¡ª a bigger glyph would have a stronger effect (in most cases), but would cost more AR. Networked glyphs would have the combined AR requirement of the glyphs, as well as the combined total AR requirement of the Link sub-glyphs as well. Many glyphs would also have one or two supporting glyphs¡ª any more than that would inflate the AR requirement.

    But sometimes, you couldn¡¯t escape glyph-spam. Hunter considered the ships he had seen high in the sky, transitioning though the strange barrier that kept this world contained¡ª an experience that Hunter always wanted to experience first hand. Those ships weighed many tonnes, and the amount of glyphs and sub glyphs that would have been required to lift them would demand an extremely complex network that must have demanded an AR requirement in the thousands. Each ship had teams of individuals with high-AR, whose job it was to keep those systems running at all times with the help of an ocean of ether batteries.

    Hunter realized his thoughts were about to drift way off course, so he brought his attention back to the project at hand.

    It was an interesting project, and it provided some interesting problems to solve. He imagined that most teams would balance the AR requirement for their constructs by using a large Force glyph on the output plate, but it wouldn¡¯t necessarily be the most efficient path. The Force glyph was known as a direct-output glyph. The ¡®force¡¯ would emit from the glyph itself.

    You could use support glyphs to enhance the strength of the Force glyph, which would add to the affinity requirement, but when done right could add a significant multiplier to the desired output.

    Hunter thought about how he would judge this competition. If he were in charge, he would divide the force output from the construct by the AR requirement. The higher the result, the higher the score.

    So, obviously, the idea was to output the most force with the lowest affinity requirement. Hunter was nearly salivating at the thought.

    It was like this round had been tailor made for him.

    The study of synergies was all about efficiency¡ª more output for less cost. He was born for this competition.

    He sorted through all of the Force constructs he¡¯d seen in his life, and thought about what would be the most appropriate. Most of the channels would converge on a single Force Glyph at the center¡ª the star of the show. He would probably follow the herd and carve a large Force glyph on the output plate, but where he deviated from most would be what the Force glyph was connected to.

    Amplify would increase the effect of the glyph, Reinforce was another glyph that could be considered a direct-output glyph, but its effect could also be used in a more subtle way. Hunter discovered that it synergized very well with some other glyphs in the right proportions, the desire that the etherium was charged with would end up having an amplification effect as well, but to a lesser degree than amplify would. He could also achieve a similar effect by changing the syntax; adding Reinforce to a separate network, and then leading the etherium down a channel that connected it to the Amplify glyph. It wasn¡¯t a direct use of synergies, it was more like novel twist on an old concept which was informed by his sensitivity.

    He would bet good money that none of the other teams knew about this little trick. Some might end up stumbling upon it indirectly, it wouldn¡¯t be hard, it would just take a nonstandard design syntax. It didn¡¯t take a genius to place the reinforce glyph before the amplify glyph, the amplify glyph would have a greater-than-intended effect on the Force glyph. In fact, he¡¯d further bet that if anyone can come close to his score, its because they leverage this trick.

    He thought about it some more, and realized that he couldn¡¯t count on this effect on its own to win him the round. All it would take is one observant artisan among the gathered teams to have noticed this effect at some other point in their life. On the other hand, most people would never use reinforce as anything other than a direct-output glyph.

    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    It was hard to gauge the risk, so he¡¯d err on the side of caution.

    As he thought, he amended his design. He would have to add the Reinforce glyph directly to the output plate. It could serve two functions¡ª reinforcing the Force glyph through proximity, and the Amplify glyph which would be hidden behind the plate, which would then create a greater output. It would barely have an effect on the Force glyph, but he would milk every ounce of efficiency he could out of this construct.

    He wasn¡¯t content to leave it at that.

    He¡¯d experimented with many combinations of glyphs over the years, and had made his fair share of mistakes. Some of those mistakes led to unexpected discoveries. Hunter had once almost destroyed one of his clients¡¯ most expensive constructs by trying to improve it. The synergies he¡¯d added had converted one of his support glyphs, Speed, into a direct-output glyph. It was the strangest thing, and Hunter had almost missed the mistake, but his sixth sense caught onto it just before it tore the construct apart.

    If he¡¯d been a bit slower in disconnecting the ether battery, he¡¯d have lost that client. He ended up ghosting Hunter after a while anyways, and Hunter never found out why. However, he¡¯d never forgotten what happened in that day. He went on to discover that the direct-output did not lessen the effects of the support element of the glyph. When used correctly, he could target it towards the amplify and reinforce-charged etherium flowing towards the Force glyph, it would mean that the Force glyph would be saturated with more etherium in less time. There were only so many channels that he could carve, and and only so many glyphs for those channels to connect.

    In the interest of style, AR efficiency, and output efficiency, he could use the Speed glyph to increase the speed of etherium flow within the channels he¡¯d carve into the construct, but only where it counted. It would do multiple jobs at once, increasing the efficiency of the Force glyph by a considerable amount, but he wanted it to effect the force glyph only.

    He would need to add it to the plate as well, but it worked a bit differently than the other two direct-outputs he was using. Speed acted more like a field, and it was something that Hunter didn¡¯t quite understand yet. It was one of the few effects he¡¯d encountered that he could sense, but not understand.

    He saw it as something of an invitation from the etherium itself. An invitation to look deeper, and innovate. Force was similar¡ª it output a field of directed something that caused the objects within it to be propelled away from the glyph. That something, Hunter knew, was etherium exhibiting a new desire, a new charge. What that meant, he didn¡¯t know.

    Etherium was just a word¡ª it was still just as mysterious to him as it was for others, he just had an advantage that they didn¡¯t.

    Etherium didn¡¯t conform to the laws of physics as they were currently understood. The Force field emitted by the Force glyph didn¡¯t effect the mass of an object. Any stationary object subjected to the field emitted by the Force glyph would simply move, as if it had been subjected to force.

    Speed would further amplify the effects of Force, but it would add to the affinity rating required to use the network after the addition of the small series of glyphs required to convert it.

    It took a few minutes to rework his design plan to make the best use of the converted Speed glyph, and he managed to proliferate the burden of the glyph throughout the rest of the network, only a couple of extra support glyphs would be necessary, but the extra mental labor was worth it.

    He suspected¡ª though this was purely guesswork, that it acted something like the Amplify glyph¡ª a similar desire. Perhaps if glyphs could be assigned to a family tree, both Amplify and Speed had a common ancestor.

    He laughed at the idea. He had no way to understand how glyphs were organized. Amplify did what it did, and Speed did what it did. They were different.

    It didn¡¯t speed up time, or entropy, nor did it increase momentum.

    It was etherium, not physics. Mysterious as always.

    Hunter didn¡¯t understand why Speed acted the way it did when he attached it to certain synergy networks. It was almost as if the charge was hidden from him, its desire was hiding under a layer of mystery that Hunter had yet to penetrate. It was one of the rare times when he would feel like any other artisan¡ª frustrated at the seeming futility of trying to understand how it all worked.

    Why these glyphs? Why these shapes, in these combinations? Was it a language made by the universe? Was it discovered, or created? If it had been created, who could possibly create such a thing? The first glyphs were discovered a few centuries ago in Asutnahem ruins. It was unknown if they originated from the Asutnahem, or if the glyphs were a relic from an even earlier, unrecorded age.

    Hunter shook his head and focused on the work.

    He was proud of the Speed glyph¡¯s addition to the network. Anything that was caught in the Speed field would move faster, and he was hoping that any oxygen and dust caught in the field would inflate the force measurement.

    It wasn¡¯t cheating, exactly. He hadn¡¯t ready any rule that prevented the usage, and doubted that anyone here would catch onto what he was up to.

    He took one final assessment of his draft.

    The Force glyph would need to be smaller, the Speed glyph would need to be close enough to the Force glyph that it increased its effect, but far enough away that it didn¡¯t interfere with the reinforce glyph.

    Hunter hadn¡¯t used this specific combination before, but he knew the effect that Reinforce had on Force as a support glyph, it was something he¡¯d used many times before. The result was an etheric desire that was different from what would normally be emitted from a normal Force rune, but it wasn¡¯t something that the Speed-charged ether should have any conflict with¡ª it wouldn¡¯t create any inefficiencies.

    But he¡¯d never used the Speed Glyph in tandem with a Reinforce glyph, let alone a modified Reinforce glyph.

    Better safe than sorry, he¡¯d heard someone say once upon a time. He couldn¡¯t remember who.

    But then Hunter started to feel an urge rise up from his gut.

    He almost gave into it. It was tempting. What if the Speed glyph improved the reinforce Glyph as well? He didn¡¯t see any reason why it wouldn¡¯t. But even if it did improve it, it might have a chance of completely inflating the AR requirement.

    If the stakes weren¡¯t so high, he¡¯d give into this urge. He believed that his current plan would be enough to make it to the top 5, if he didn¡¯t place first.

    Hunter looked at the clock. Four hours and thirty minutes left.

    He took out a sketch pad and played with a few ideas. Spacing would be important, and the syntax would look absolutely ludicrous. In order to create the most clean design, he would need to add a Link glyph that was almost completely arbitrary. So he scrapped that design and went with the second best.

    He considered his design once more, and started having doubts. He could dramatically reduce the AR requirement if he scrapped the speed glyph, slightly increased the Force glyph size, slightly reduced the Reinforce glyph size. That design would probably only require an AR of 14, maybe 16, max.

    The modified Speed glyph would require three small support glyphs, and three link glyphs, but he would also be able to reduce the size of the Amplify glyph, which would reduce the AR requirement by around 4.

    He was struck by a sudden burst of inspiration. He could leverage his crosshatch channels in lieu of the Link glyphs, but only for the supporting glyphs that modified Speed, which would decrease the AR requirement by another 4, although it would undoubtedly reduce the efficiency of the glyphs, which he figured would be approximately 2 more AR added to the requirement. Still, that 2 AR could be the difference between 1st place and 2nd place. Or even more important, 5th place and 6th.

    The only reason he could justify the substitution was because the support glyphs were very similar, almost identical, and they charged the etherium in almost the same way, with an effect that only mattered when they interfaced with the Speed glyph itself. In any other situation, he wouldn¡¯t dream of substituting a Link Glyph with an intersecting series of channels.

    It would probably earn him some style points. That, along with the utterly unique syntax and glyph combinations¡ª his design would go a long way for earning stars from the judges. The only thing that mattered now was the exact Force output, as well as the final Affinity requirement.

    He would be taking a bit of a risk with this design, but he was confident. It would work, and it would make an impact.

    He glanced at the clock.

    Four hours left. The teams around him were already starting to machine their parts, and etch the channels into the materials.

    He would need to work fast to keep up, but with the excitement that came with his confidence, and the potential pay off of taking a small risk with his design, he felt that he was up for the challenge.

    It took three hours for Hunter to machine all the parts he needed. He preferred to manufacture, and then create his channels as he went along. He created all of the most complex parts first, as well as the parts with the hardest angles to work with. He left the output plate until the end.

    With half an hour to go, he assembled the final pieces of his construct.

    <hr>

    He had attempted to make the end result look as symmetrical as possible, but there was only so much he could do on his own.

    There was a small nook for a drawstone to be slotted into, which he called the user end. The user end expanded out to for almost 12 inches to meet the edges of the output plate, which he had dubbed the business end, which he had carved with a large Force glyph, a circular design with swirling, symmetrical patterns throughout. The Speed glyph was nestled at the top right-hand corner of the business end, and the Reinforce glyph took up a significant portion of the bottom left-hand corner. Various channels stretched around the plate, back into the innards of the construct where they flowed into a pretty system of channels carved with clean lines, meeting either at a crosshatch or a glyph-link network, spread throughout the inside of the casing.

    Hunter had to take some liberties with the material, using wood when he could¡ª carving along the grain to get the most out of the material. It was only ever used to lead the channels towards the glyphs, which he had carved using more solid materials.

    The user end had taken the most time to get right, but he¡¯d created, modified, and broken more of those than he would care to count over the years. They were pretty simple to make, at this point, but required an experts hand to get just right.

    He¡¯d drained quite a few batteries over the last few hours, and had finished off the charge of one of his old, modified batteries in order to gauge the AR requirement of the device, which he estimated to be somewhere between 22 and 24. He let the construct run for about half a minute, and it didn¡¯t appear to break, so he decided it was done.

    There was no use worrying about how it would perform. It did work, and it did create a strong propulsive effect when he used a piece of paper to carefully find the edge of the Force field, confirming that it was outputting the way he wanted it to. The Speed glyph added an interesting effect to the paper, dramatically exaggerating the way it flapped back whenever it touched the field, creating a soft slapping sound.

    He guessed that the sound was generated by the air in the room, accelerated when it hit the field. The next workbench was too far away to tell if he was creating much of a breeze, and Hunter didn¡¯t care to test it himself. He didn¡¯t want to get in trouble by letting go of the paper and seeing how far it flew. He couldn¡¯t afford a disqualification at this point. He¡¯d come too far.

    But he¡¯d be lying if he said he wasn¡¯t tempted.

    He let the construct run for half a minute, closing his eyes and sensing for any sudden changes in the what he was sensing. Closing his eyes brought with it a feeling of comfort, and he realized that he really wanted to sleep.

    He hadn¡¯t even realized how drained he was, but he had been so engaged with the work that it didn¡¯t really bother him at the time.

    When nothing was amiss, he deactivated the construct and smiled.

    Hunter followed a whim and used the third arm to lift the construct, etching his signature along the bottom.

    He needed a break, this construct required a lot of testing, especially when he was verifying that the crosshatch worked like he had planned. He didn¡¯t feel as drained as he had during the first round¡ª apparently moving his supplies from the hotel to the stadium had taken more out of him than he¡¯d expected, but he was still nearly exhausted.

    Tired as he may be, he was proud of his work. He considered it a piece of art¡ª although it may not be as visually impressive as the other teams, it had challenged him, and he¡¯d risen to the challenge. It was almost an experiment in itself, and barring the pending results from the coming assessment, in his mind, it was a success.

    There were still 20 minutes on the clock, and Hunter decided to sit down, lean against his workbench, and rest his eyes. It was too loud to sleep, but sometimes, just closing his eyes for a while was enough to trick his body into thinking it had just gotten some rest.

 Chapter 12

    The timer counted down the last few seconds. The buzzer rang, and the announcer walked back on stage. Most teams appeared to finish ahead of time, like Hunter, and they considered each other their rivals designs. Most appeared similar, some seemed a bit more box-like than Hunters, which resembled a horizontal pyramid, the tip of which had been modified into a small platform that would house the users drawstone.

    He didn¡¯t see any open-air designs like he had in the previous round. All of the designs appeared clean and professional from what he could see¡ª although he¡¯d be naive to think that the inner workings of the construct would be reflected in the outer appearance. Hunter had considered making a cube, but figured that something a bit more like a pyramid would be more visually interesting, and it saved him from having to use all of the available material. He figured it would go some way to improve the score the judges gave him, and it also satisfied his sense of professionalism. For the last few years, he¡¯s had to learn how to do with more with less.

    It was always challenging, but the challenge was paying off.

    There wasn¡¯t much that Hunter could do in terms of aesthetics. Some teams had created some unique designs. Rounded edges, twisting corners, things that Hunter didn¡¯t even know could be done with what they¡¯d been given. He was impressed, and if their skills with etherium matched their artistic ability, they¡¯d probably score pretty high.

    The announcers voice cut through the noise of the murmuring spectators and chattering teams.

    ¡°The first phase of the second round is now over! As expected, this round was designed to test how you would approach an old problem. The Force glyph might be well known, but the way you approach it will distinguish an expert from an amateur. The judges can¡¯t wait to see your submissions, so without further ado, let¡¯s begin the second phase of the round! If you look at the top right hand side of your work-benches, you¡¯ll see a number taped to the corner. When that number is called, it will be your turn to present your submission for appraisal. Are you excited? I am! Let¡¯s get started! Would team #1 approach the assessment device?¡±

    Hunter checked the corner of his desk. He¡¯d noticed the number before, but hadn¡¯t thought much of it. He would be the 14th in line for assessment.

    The crowd clapped as the team brought their construct around the stage. They set it up on a small pedestal that stood a few feet away from the scale.

    The team was told to step away from the device, as it would be activated by the announcer herself. One one side of the machine, the team watched. On the other side of the machine, the seven judges assembled¡ª at least Hunter assumed they were the judges.

    The announcer held a drawstone up to the device. He couldn¡¯t make out the details about how the device was constructed from where he was standing.

    ¡°Force output: 89 Pounds,¡± The announcer said, after the device had been active for a few seconds. The judges approached, and asked someone from the team to open the construct for them to see the inside. One of them took out a tool and poked at the device.

    ¡°AR requirement: 32,¡± the announcer said. Hunter¡¯s eyebrows rose. He¡¯s seen devices to test the AR requirement of constructs, he had a couple in various states of disrepair at his old house in Seckina. But nothing like they were using, which could be held in one hand. It must be a newer model.

    Over the next few minutes, the judges took turns inspecting the the device. The team came forward and answered any questions he judges had.

    ¡°5 Stars!¡± The announcer declared. The crowd clapped, ¡°for a total score of 13.9¡±

    Hunter noticed a display above stadium that he hadn¡¯t seen before. At the top of the screen a few letters and numbers were printed, a record of the teams score.

    TM 1: 13.9

    The other teams didn¡¯t seem impressed.

    He imagined that many teams probably could have output a lot more with a slightly lower AR requirement. It wouldn¡¯t be too hard to beat.

    Indeed, the second team seemed to do much better.

    ¡°Force Output: 95 pounds.¡±

    ¡°AR Requirement: 30.¡±

    ¡°5 Stars! Total score: 15.8!¡±

    TM 2: 15.8

    TM 1: 13.9

    6 more teams went up, one scoring as low as 10, with another scoring as high as 20. Jeremy¡¯s team had scored a respectable 18. Hunters table was right beside a central walkway that allowed the teams to approach the stage before they were routed around it so Hunter got to see all the nervous faces of everyone who passed. Nicole gave him a thumbs up, Jeremy gave him a friendly smile and a wave. He caught a look from Rodney that he hadn¡¯t known how to parse¡ª a mixture of bafflement and curiosity. Maybe neither of those. Stephan just nodded at him.

    Team 9 was one that Hunter recognized. David Nettle and his goons strutted their way towards the machine. David looked at Hunter with nothing short of his usual disdain¡ª despite how he¡¯d performed in the last round. The rest of his team seemed to ignore Hunter.

    The construct wasn¡¯t the most artful that Hunter had seen so far, but he was loathe to admit that it didn¡¯t look bad. He silently prayed to whichever god was listening that they got the lowest score in the round.

    They were far too confident.

    To Hunters dismay, their score was impressive.

    ¡°Force Output: 110 pounds! Wow,¡± the announcer said. David gave a small bow, and his team laughed at his theatrics. The judges crowded their construct, and David opened it up for them,

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    ¡°AR requirement: 28!¡± A few appreciative sounds from the surrounding teams met the announcement.

    ¡°Judges score¡­ 6 Stars! For a total score of 23.5!¡±

    The crowd gave a loud round of applause for that. There were some scattered cheers as well. Apparently, David and his team had fans.

    If nothing else, the young man was charismatic. Hunter would give him that.

    On their way back to their workbench, David barely glanced at Hunter with anything more than a smirk.

    TM 9: 23.5

    TM 5: 20

    TM 3: 18.8

    TM 7: 18

    TM 8: 17.7

    TM 4: 16.6

    TM 2: 15.8

    TM 1: 13.9

    TM 6: 10

    The next team was another that Hunter recognized. The other team that shared his 7 Star result from the previous round. There¡¯s was one of the more beautiful pieces that Hunter had seen, and their confidence wasn¡¯t quite like David¡¯s team had been. Where David¡¯s team had been about projecting something, this team just didn¡¯t seem worried. Their walk was casual¡ª business as usual.

    They weren¡¯t arrogant, they were convinced that they had nothing to worry about. Hunter¡¯s interest was piqued¡ª hopefully their results would act as something of a palate cleanser. David Nettle¡¯s attitude had left Hunter feeling sour.

    Sure enough after a few minutes, their results were announced.

    ¡°Force Output: 120 pounds!¡±

    Hunter whistled to himself. Impressive.

    ¡°AR Requirement: 30.¡±

    ¡°Judges score: 7 Stars! For a total of 28 points!¡±

    The applause from the crowd was louder than any that he¡¯d heard so far, with many more cheers than David¡¯s team had enjoyed. Hunter clapped as well. The highest score yet¡ª one that might be hard to beat.

    Hunter thought that his would beat them, but he didn¡¯t know.

    The next 3 teams didn¡¯t score nearly as well, the highest beating out Jeremy¡¯s team with 19 points.

    Then, it was Hunters turn.

    The construct was too heavy for him to lift on his own, so he waved over an assistant to help him. The applause he received was more than he expected, but quite muted compared to what he¡¯d heard for David¡¯s, and Jonathan Berrymoore¡¯s team.

    The closer he got to the device, the more nervous he became. The nerves felt completely irrational. He had felt fine a moment ago. He considered his experience with crowds, and concluded that he was getting something like stage fright.

    He gulped. His palms were sweating. He wiped them on his pants, then realized that everyone had seen him do that. They would all know that he was nervous. He stuck out like a sore thumb, all sweat and anxiety.

    He did his best to focus on the moment. It was all he could do. He had nothing to worry about, right? He was good at this stuff.

    Three was nothing to worry about.

    Don¡¯t worry about the crowd, he thought, don¡¯t worry about the teams, or the announcer, or the judges, focus on the fact that you¡¯ve made it this far, and that the construct works.

    He followed the attendant to the device. The attendant placed the device on the pedestal, and Hunter hooked it into place. When it was secured, he waved the announcer over and stepped back.

    The seconds it took for her to place the Drawstone in the nook, and activate the device felt like eternities.

    Hunter couldn¡¯t see the scale¡¯s screen from where he stood. He held is breath as the announcer raised the microphone to her lips.

    ¡°Force Output: 142 pounds!¡±

    Hunter sighed in relief.

    If he was honest, it was weaker than he had hoped, but it was still the highest output by a longshot. But they weren¡¯t done.

    The judges approached the construct, and Hunter came to them when they beckoned. He opened up the constructs casing from the top¡ª the only part of the construct that didn¡¯t have any channels running through it.

    ¡°There it is again, Janet. That crisscrossing pattern. Genius work, by the way,¡± one of the judges said to Hunter. The man¡¯s eyes were bright, and enthusiastic. The rest of the judges were looking at Hunter with interest.

    ¡°Thank you, that means a lot coming from such an accomplished individual like yourself,¡± Hunter said, surprised by the flattery that had just left his lips. He had no idea who this guy was, but it felt like the right thing to say. The man snorted and another judge placed the AR probe inside of his construct.

    He took the chance to study the instrument, but he couldn¡¯t infer much about how it worked before it beeped. The judge looked at the display with raised eyebrows, showing it to the other judges. They all seemed impressed, nodding at Hunter encouragingly.

    That must be good news.

    They showed the small display to the announcer.

    ¡°AR Requirement: 23!¡±

    Hunter smiled. He could have sworn he heard a few gasps from the other teams. Maybe he was imagining it.

    The judges asked him questions about the design, and Hunter did his best to answer what he could. Some questions came close to being uncomfortable. He told them partial truths, like; he¡¯d been experimenting with nonstandard network syntax since as long as he could remember, it always seemed like a fun puzzle to him. He also told them that the crosshatch channels had been discovered by accident, and he¡¯d slightly refined the idea with some experimentation over the years.

    Not entirely a lie, but not entirely truthful either. It seemed to satisfy the judges curiosity. He did his best to explain the function of the altered glyphs¡ª telling them to be careful with how they handled their study of the construct. They judges took some time to confer amongst themselves. By this point, Hunter wasn¡¯t feeling nervous. He could see the results on the judges faces. They¡¯d all been excited to see observe his work.

    A couple of them admitted that they didn¡¯t want to believe that it could work as well as it did¡ª but they couldn¡¯t argue with the results. They kept the construct active for a full minute while they talked in order to test the constructs reliability.

    They spoke to the announcer when they were ready.

    ¡°Judges score: 7 Stars! For a final score of 43.2! An incredible score!¡±

    This got the reaction from the crowd that Hunter had been secretly hoping for. An attendant came to carry off his submission. As he walked back to his workbench, he let the elation from the crowd pass through him. He was really enjoying this.

    He checked the leaderboard after he calmed down.

    TM 14: 43.2

    TM 10: 28

    TM 9: 23.5

    TM 5: 20

    TM 12: 19

    TM 3: 18.8

    TM 7: 18

    TM 8: 17.7

    TM 13: 17

    TM 4: 16.6

    TM 2: 15.8

    TM 11: 14

    TM 1: 13.9

    TM 6: 10

    He took a page out of David¡¯s book¡ª in fact he looked directly at David and his team, right near the back of the workspace where everyone was watching from, and bowed.

    David¡¯s face went beet red, but there was no scorn in his expression.

    Maybe some resentment. Maybe even hatred.

    But the arrogance was gone.

    He saw Nicole staring at him, slack jawed. Other teams were discussing him as well¡ª not a single look of dismissal or arrogance to be seen.

    Hunter felt giddy. All of the exhaustion felt like it left him. He felt like he could dance. He didn¡¯t, but he did laugh a bit. He couldn¡¯t help it.

    He¡¯d been dreaming of a moment like this for years. Ever since he was young, ever since that last day of school when everyone he¡¯d thought he was close to started to treat him like he was some sort of freak.

    His eyes were watering, the tears made it too blurry to see the team that had been called up after him.

    He¡¯d done it again. He¡¯d proven what he was capable of¡ª not just to himself, but the rest of the world.

    Why had he ever doubted himself?

    Just under 50 minutes later, all the teams results had been announced. No one had come close to beating Hunters¡¯ score.

    Round two was his.

    Is that enough for you, Oberon? Hunter thought, Is that enough to secure my future, or do you need to see more?

    Hunter knew that as soon as he calmed down, the exhaustion would feel more intense.

    But he had one more round to get through.

    It wouldn¡¯t be easy¡ª but he had risen to every challenge that faced him so far. What was one more?

 Chapter 13

    The top 5 teams were brought up to the stage, where they were subjected to the combined mass of regrets from the losing teams. The announcer congratulated Hunter and the other four teams, and informed them that the next round would start in 2 and a half hours.

    17 disappointed teams left the stadium, while Hunter and the others stayed behind for the next 30 minutes to answer questions from journalists who seemed to appear out of nowhere.

    Hunter wanted to find a way out of speaking with them, but there was no avoiding it. Having taken the top spot of the second round, he had a lot of attention centered on him. It felt suffocating, he was constantly worried about saying something wrong.

    When everyone had been further away during the testing phase for his force construct, he¡¯d been nervous, but it was manageable. But now, with all these people standing right in front of him, shoving microphones in his face and yelling over each other¡ª with the flashing lights from the cameras and the knowledge that he¡¯d probably be seen all over the city, maybe even the world, he felt like he was being forced to tread a tightrope across The Journeyer''s cavern, with winds buffeting him from all sides.

    The only thing he wanted to be worrying about was either finding some coffee, or a place to close his eyes for an hour.

    ¡°Hunter, are you really the son of Gideon Koar?¡±

    Hunter turned away from the journalist and asked the attendant nearest him to help him leave. The camera flashes increased in frequency, they clicked like a horde of insects. The attendant looked confused, flapping her mouth like a fish out of water, but he gave her the most desperate look he could. He must have managed to gain some pity, because she made a call in her portable radio. Soon, the indignant call of protests emerged from the back of the assembled journo¡¯s, and a small path emerged for him to walk through as two burly men¡ª who seemed to enjoy their job¡ª gently pushed the crowed away from each other. With the way cleared, he hurried away from the press room and headed towards the stadium¡¯s exit.

    The stadium¡¯s lobby was full. Most of the losing teams were there or just outside the building, chatting with families. A lot of people approached him, apologizing for any offense they may have caused him over the last couple of days¡ª that caught Hunter off guard and not in any way that pleased him.

    Suddenly, they seemed so small to him. Like children in bigger bodies.

    Maybe that wasn¡¯t rational, maybe it was because it he was tired from the round, but as soon as the apologies left their mouth, he couldn¡¯t take them seriously and wanted nothing to do with them. Was it bad form, to ignore their apologies? Perhaps.

    Were he not so exhausted, he could feel incredibly angry. Now he felt like nothing but their own mirror image. They had dismissed him for no reason, following the opinions of the crowd. None of them had taken the time to get to know him, to understand the potential he had.

    They were all mindless, as far as he was concerned. They were drones, followers of the herd. He didn¡¯t want anything to do with them.

    Other teams came to shake his hand, congratulating him on his performance so far, and it felt way too similar to being surrounded by a bunch of ambitious journalists.

    Some wanted to chat with him about his battery or his Force construct. He told him that he was incredibly busy and wanted some time to himself before the next round. Most were understanding, some where disappointed, and some were offended¡ª but why was it any of their business how he spent the next few hours? What was it with these people?

    Then it dawned on him.

    He saw them comparing themselves, not only to him, but the others around them. Showing off shoes, giving sideways glances when their friends weren¡¯t looking, always assessing. Many of them wore high quality clothing, and were well groomed. They spoke like they¡¯d had expensive educations¡ª they had that accent, the tilt of the head, the particular words they used. These were a bunch of wealthy brats who were used to having their egos inflated because of who their parents were and how much money they¡¯d been born into. They all had an expanding network of acquaintances whom they can draw upon for favors, business advantages, and career leaps.

    He was just another resource for them, now. Another pawn on their boards¡ª and it wasn¡¯t like they were trying to hide it either. How do they all tolerate each other? Again, he felt like he was surrounded by automatons¡ª a small sea of self serving, pretentious machines.

    He made his way outside and saw Jeremy''s team chatting with each other. He considered leaving them alone, he didn''t know how they had taken their elimination. He knew that he''d probably want to avoid them if their positions were reversed.

    He was going to go find a cafe, but Stephan noticed him and told the team. Nicole beamed and waved him over. They were all smiling as he met them¡ª save Rodney who seemed to find a sudden interest in the concrete underfoot. Jeremy patted Hunter on the back and offered his congratulations. Nicole seemed to be excited about Hunters placement.

    ¡°I can''t believe you did so well! You should have seen David Nettle¡¯s face when your results were announced. It was so funny. And when you bowed! He went red!¡± she said, unable to hold back laughter. Rodney started smiling a bit as well.

    ¡°It did feel feel good to see him humbled like that. There¡¯s people like him at every competition we¡¯ve been to,¡± Jeremy said.

    ¡°Look at me, my AR is higher than yours. That must mean I am a superior specimen. Behold your king, peasants,¡± Stephan said, doing his best impression of David Nettle, sticking his nose up in the air with his arms crossed.

    Hunter laughed with them. He was glad that he wasn¡¯t the only one who felt that way. It felt good to let some of tension bleed away.

    ¡°We were gonna grab something to eat, wanna come?¡± Nicole asked. Hunter nodded. He felt a lot better than he had the previous day. He checked his watch, there was still over an hour and a half before the next round.

    ¡°As long as we don''t go too far out of the way, sure,¡± Hunter said. They talked as they walked. Hunter got to know the team a bit better. Rodney seemed like he had something he wanted to say, but elected to remain silent.

    They chose a restaurant near where Jimmy had taken him a couple of days ago. It was busy, most families had the day off on Sunday and there were plenty of people out to lunch.

    They were led to a rounded booth. As they all sat down and started browsing the menu, Rodney took the chance to speak up.

    ¡°How¡¯d you do it?¡± he asked.

    Hunter shook his head.

    ¡°Could you be more specific?¡± Hunter asked. He knew exactly what Rodney meant, but he''d been pretty impolite so far and Hunter felt obliged to reciprocate.

    ¡°7 stars, both rounds,¡± Rodney said, his eyes unflinching as they bored into Hunters, ¡°the highest score by over 10 points, while solo? I still can¡¯t figure it out. How did you do it?¡±

    Hunter studied Rodney''s face. He searched for something like an accusation, some sign that he was just like the rest of the pricks he¡¯d been having to deal with lately. Rodney was intense, but the dismissal he''d noticed the other day wasn''t there anymore. He wasn¡¯t apologizing, or trying to gain some favor. All Hunter say in Rodney¡¯s face was a sincere desire to solve a problem.

    Hunter could relate to that feeling. He imagined being in Rodney''s shoes, and knew that he would feel the same. He¡¯d want to do whatever it took, to sit however long he needed to in front of however many books, and do however many experiments it took to figure something out.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got to admit, i¡¯m kind of curious too,¡± Jeremy said, ¡°It¡¯s awesome that you¡¯ve been doing so well, but you¡¯ve got to understand that from our perspective, its hard to believe¡ª and we were there.¡±

    Hunter considered his words. They only confirmed what he¡¯d expected when he signed up to take the preliminary test, at least to a degree. But if he was honest, what he¡¯d really expected was a bit more intrigue and corporate sabotage. Maybe he¡¯d read too many novels.

    He didn''t really trust them, the team, but he''d had some practice with half answers lately and he figured that he could throw them something that would ease the sharp edges around their curiosity. Another point in their benefit is that they weren¡¯t nosey journalists, instead they were among the few people who had treated him with respect over the last few days.

    ¡°Gideon Koar was my dad,¡± Hunter said, waiting to see how they¡¯d react. At this point it was probably less unbelievable than his performance in the competition so far. They all had similar reactions to this revelation; a casual nod, a shrug of the shoulders.

    ¡°I''ve always had this handicap¡ª my AR¡± he said, ¡°but etherium has always been my core passion.¡±

    Nicole snickered.

    Jeremy gave her a look that seemed like a warning.

    ¡°What did I say?¡± Hunter asked, confused by the reaction.

    Jeremy''s look intensified. Nicole ignored him.

    ¡°You said core passion,¡± she said, snickering again, ¡°like, Koar passion.¡±

    Hunter was stunned.

    His reaction seemed to amuse her even more, and her snicker graduated to a giggle.

    ¡°I deeply, deeply apologize. She''s hopeless, the poor thing,¡± Jeremy said with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. Nicole''s merriment was undaunted, she continued to giggle to herself as Jeremy suffered.

    Was she like this the previous day, and he had just been too tired to notice?

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    Hunter decided to continue with his point.

    ¡°Anyways, my dad always encouraged me to continue studying constructs. By the time I was 8, I was building my own. A few years later, after he died, I had to support myself¡ª constructs kept my fridge full and a roof over my head. But I had to adapt, I had to learn how to approach the craft differently. I had to learn to do it my way,¡± he said. He wondered if that would be enough to satisfy them.

    Rodney shook his head.

    ¡°I believe that''s only half the story,¡± he said, ¡°I could accept that you took a unique approach to the battery, and that it would be enough to impress the judges¡ª not that I could begin to imagine how your approach differed from ours or anyone else''s. But that doesn''t explain how you were able to create such a powerful and efficient Force construct,¡± Rodney said. Hunter felt that he was starting to understand Rodney a bit better.

    The intensity of his demeanor might have held some envy. It might have held some regret, but what Hunter saw the most was excitement.

    He knew that Hunter knew something. And he wanted to know too.

    He could tell him the truth, at least what he suspected. It wasn¡¯t rare for high-AR individuals to develop mutations, mutations that they sometimes passed on to their children. It could be an unnatural increase in strength, speed, endurance, or even a change in skin color¡ª a famous example was an elderly man who had reached an AR of over 100, and his skin turned a light shade of blue, and he could adjust the temperature of his skin by amounts that would usually be incredibly difficult for human beings to survive prolonged exposure too, and he could do it for days at a time.

    Such mutations were incredibly rare¡ª even among high-AR individuals. The highest known AR is 120, and as far as Hunter recalls, he hadn¡¯t shown any signs of having developed a mutation.

    He suspected that his father had a similar mutation. He hadn¡¯t known what his AR had been by the time he¡¯d died, but if Hunters suspicion was correct, than he inherited the sensitivity after it manifested in his father.

    Hunter made a decision. He might not trust them, but he liked these guys, and Rodney seemed like something of a kindred spirit, in a way.

    ¡°Any of you got a pen and paper?¡± he asked the team. Stephen nodded and grabbed his backpack, taking out a pad of paper and a pencil. Hunter took it and started drawing.

    ¡°I''m betting you made three key choices when you designed your construct. I''m assuming you devoted the majority of your AR budget to the Force glyph, and the you probably used two small Amplify glyphs spaced evenly apart and close to the output plate, and a small Reinforce glyph on at least one of them, correct?¡±

    Nicole nodded and pursed her lips as she concentrated on Hunters¡¯ impromptu lecture. He¡¯d never really taken the time to explain his thoughts about constructs before, most of his notes were his own personal brand of chicken scratch, and the rest of the logic was in his head, where it was safe.

    He spoke slowly as he considered his words.

    ¡°Personally, I placed my Reinforce glyph on the plate, but it was one of the first glyphs in my network syntax,¡± he paused, seeing if they were following. Jeremy looked confused, Stephan seemed as stoic as usual, but Rodney was nodding enthusiastically.

    ¡°If I''m not wrong,¡± Hunter continued, ¡°this modification to the syntax is what David Nettle and Jonathan Berrymoore¡¯s teams used, with some of their own modifications and design choices. My guess is that Jonathan¡¯s team created a design that was a lot more streamlined than David¡¯s. How you place and size your glyphs could make or break your place on the leaderboard. I also bet that Jonathan¡¯s team did something similar with how they placed their Reinforce glyph¡ª rather than just having it earlier in the syntax, they might have had it right at the beginning like mine, and then they would have built the rest of the construct around it.¡±

    ¡°Are you saying that having Reinforce as part of the Initializing syntax makes it act as an amplifier?¡± Rodney asked.

    Hunter nodded. Before he could continue, Rodney snapped his fingers.

    ¡°And you¡¯re saying that having it on the output plate would have subtly reinforced the Force glyph through proximity. To be honest, I don¡¯t think i¡¯ve ever heard of proximal effects as anything other than hypothetical, but if you¡¯re claiming that you¡¯ve verified it¡­¡± Rodney said, the enthusiasm causing his words to come out like a stream of syllables. He paused to think before continuing, ¡°But I''m not seeing how that would have much of an effect on either AR efficiency or output. ¡±

    ¡°It wouldn''t, you''re right. But some of the other support glyphs I used would have had a destabilizing effect on the Force glyph. The subtle effect that Reinforce had in proximity to the Force glyph ultimately allowed for greater output without the glyph destabilizing or the causing the constructs efficiency to drop.¡±

    ¡°And you''re gonna keep those specific support glyphs to yourself, I take it,¡± Nicole said with a smirk.

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you?¡± Hunter asked.

    Nicole shrugged and conceded his point.

    He could tell he¡¯d given the team a lot of think about. Especially Rodney. He seemed content with the answer so far, but Hunter knew he wouldn¡¯t feel satisfied until he got the full breakdown.

    Too bad for Rodney.

    Hunter didn¡¯t know what the future would bring.. If he shared anymore, he could find that his work was being used by one of the companies which had taken his home away from him. They¡¯d end up getting his work anyways¡ª any company that released a new product knew that it can, and will, be reverse engineered.

    It wasn¡¯t like Hunter had never used his synergistic glyph networks publicly before. Whenever he wanted to impress a client or assumed there was a low chance of his work being observed by another artisan, he would use some of his own research to improve a construct.

    But those were usually exceptional circumstances. Hunter was content to repair things to their original function. There were other ways to improve the quality of a construct without giving away his prized knowledge.

    Hunter wanted his work released to the world on his own terms, when he was ready. He wanted full control of when and how his tech was distributed.

    Although, he had to admit that the respect he saw in the eyes of the team was something he could get used to.

    <hr>

    The top 5 teams were back in the stadium. They walked out one by one in the order of their ranking from the previous round to a long period of applause from the gathered spectators. As Hunter entered, he was suprised to see that there weren¡¯t any workbenches. Instead, there was a large, open-faced room that was full of machines and gadgets of various sizes. The room was elevated, built upon the stage the announcer had used for the previous two rounds.

    The teams were told to line up, facing the spectators with their backs twoards the open-faced room.

    Hunter had a bad feeling about this final round. Just before he¡¯d entered, an attendant had taken him to the side and told him that for this round he¡¯d only be allowed to use two of his custom tools, rather than the full set he¡¯d been working with for the last two rounds. The third arm was a given, otherwise the disadvantage would be unbridgeable.

    He also chose his multi-node, a tool he¡¯d designed to make it easier to attach multiple batteries to a construct, and also helped him dramatically reduce the amount of time it took both attach and detach batteries to the nodes he used to test the constructs as they were being built.

    Those were his two greatest disadvantages during this competition, and those two tools had been his lifeline. The rest of his tools were still important, as they helped with channel carving. He¡¯d also brought a bunch of stencils to help carve the glyphs that he either used the most commonly or demanded the most technical skill to create, as his hands tended to shake during more demanding jobs, but that was a limitation he could work with, to an extent.

    Would it be enough to win him the competition? He had to believe it would be.

    He¡¯d done well enough so far, and he wasn¡¯t about to doubt how far he was capable of pushing himself.

    The other teams seemed confident. Jonathan Berrymoore and his team stood proud as they faced the audience. David Nettle¡¯s team appeared more subdued, but no less confident. None of the assembled teams appeared to hold any doubts regarding the outcome of this round. They all knew that they had what it took to win.

    The first and second round were important¡ª but they were only a means to make it here. The final placement would be calculated by combining the results from all three rounds, with the final round giving the most points.

    Hunter knew that much, but wasn¡¯t quite sure about the specifics of how each round¡¯s score was broken down, but he¡¯d find out in a few hours, one way or another.

    ¡°Welcome, everybody, to the final round of the 10th annual Global Youth Artisan Competition. Our top 5 teams have distinguished themselves as some of the most exceptional artisans of their generation. We have high hopes for you all, and are looking forward to seeing how you¡¯ll meet the challenge that¡¯s been prepared for you. Behind you is a room full of constructs in various states of repair and disrepair. Some can be salvaged and some can¡¯t. To finish this challenge, you must repair the wireless network hub at the back of the room. In order to do that, you must use your own judgement to discern which constructs must be recyled, and which will be necessary to support the hub¡¯s core functions.¡±

    It was then that Hunter started to despair.

    During this round his disadvantages would be the most pronounced. The last two rounds had worked for him because it tested a team¡¯s knowledge about the craft. This was a round designed push a team to its limit, and Hunter didn¡¯t have a team to lean on.

    ¡°You will have 2 hours to complete the round. Placement will be decided by a team¡¯s time to completion and the creative use of the tools and resources provided. You will also have your work appraised by our panel of esteemed judges. Teams, are you ready?¡±

    Hunter nodded¡ª and assumed the other teams did as well. He didn¡¯t feel ready, but did that matter at this point? He didn¡¯t look forward to sticking around for a 10 hours, though. Especially if this round was going to be as taxing as he imagined it would be.

    ¡°Hunter Koar, you scored the highest during the previous round, so you have option to either go first, or second. What do you prefer?¡± the announcer asked.

    Hunter didn¡¯t take too long to think about it. He needed information¡ª a gameplan. Watching another team go through the process of trying to figure out how to complete the round might not assure him of success, but it¡¯ll go a long way to helping him be more efficient with his approach.

    ¡°I¡¯ll wait,¡± he said.

    ¡°Excellent. Jonathan Berrymoore, Tilda Burner, and Philip Golbrune, you¡¯re up! Good luck, contestants!¡±

    The team stepped up to the room and started to discuss a strategy as the round officially began and the 3 hour countdown was initiated.

    Hunter had eaten a small meal, and had drank a large coffee. He also brought one with him¡ª after getting approval from the competition staff. The logic was that if he spilled coffee over his work, that was on him, and so it was his own risk to take.

    He sipped his coffee as he watched the team get to work. They spread throughout the room, taking an inventory of what was there. Hunter recognized some of the constructs over the 30 yards that seperated him and the room. There wasn¡¯t any real logic or theme that he could distinguish. He¡¯d seen similar constructs at Mrs. Margarets, he¡¯d seen some of them in Artisan workshops that he¡¯d visited, he¡¯d even seen some at fast-food establishments.

    He had some ideas about how this round was meant to be approached. It seemed almost like a puzzle. Jonathan¡¯s team was starting to figure it out as well.

    ¡°You¡¯re not going to win this, you know that right?¡±

    Hunter almost cringed when he heard David¡¯s voice. Every time David had talked to him over the last couple days, he approached from behind with same hostile, whining tone.

    ¡°Do you have a problem with approaching people normally?¡± Hunter asked.

    ¡°I have a problem with arrogant, self-entitled brats,¡± David said. Hunter decided not to comment, it wasn¡¯t worth the effort. If David had the self awareness necessary to appreciate Hunters most obvious response, then Hunters response wouldn¡¯t be necessary.

    As it was, pointing out the hypocrisy would be lost on David. And Hunter didn¡¯t care, either way. He¡¯d been intimidated by David when they¡¯d first met. But Hunter wasn¡¯t afraid anymore. He¡¯d proven that he deserved to be here.

    ¡°Although,¡± David said, filling the silence when Hunter didn¡¯t take the bait, ¡°you have proven that you have a right to be arrogant. Two top scores, it¡¯s impressive. And all alone, too.¡±

    Hunter almost couldn¡¯t believe what he was hearing. He looked at David and studied him.

    ¡°Are you feeling alright?¡± Hunter asked.

    David snorted.

    ¡°I¡¯m just saying, it doesn¡¯t matter how you feel, what you think your odds are. You¡¯re not going to win. This round is your antithesis. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve already realized it.¡±

    Hunter shrugged.

    ¡°I¡¯ll guess we¡¯ll just have to wait and see.¡±

    David had apparently said all he¡¯d wanted to, and started to walk back to his team. But before he got too far he paused, and looked back.

    ¡°You know, I used to admire Gideon Koar. Hearing what he did to those innocent people, it taught me something,¡± he said, staring off into the distance, ¡°such a shame. Should we be worried about you as well, Hunter?¡±

    Hunter had done a very good job of staying calm in front of this jerk all weekend. He¡¯d kept himself focused, refusing to let him get inside his head.

    But this time, the words had struck home. A fire rose in Hunters chest, and reached his throat, and fury animated his tongue as he whispered.

    ¡°I guess we¡¯ll just have to wait and see.¡±

 Chapter 14

    It was interesting, Hunter would think in hindsight, how many emotions you could feel at once. Grief, despair, apathy, and fury, all balled up in Hunters body. He wanted to run away, back to his suite, sit on his bed and wait for the this cocktail of pain to bleed away into a memory. He wanted to lose himself in some fugue of research and creation, thinking about nothing but the next channel, the next curve of the glyph, the next battery test, the next hit of inspiration.

    He wanted nothing more than to drift along the shifting song of desire that etherium sung to him.

    Those had been his refuge for as long as he could remember. As he watched David walk back to his team, Hunter felt absolutely certain that David was right. There was no way he was going to win this round. He had the AR of a toddler and the physical strength of someone half his age. He was tired, burned out, and had about ?th the manpower as the other teams to bring to this challenge

    He knew he wouldn¡¯t be able to take the top score for this round, and the score from the previous two rounds wouldn¡¯t be able to carry him to first place.

    Hunter had already lost.

    It was already over, and the third round had barely even begun.

    But if David thought that his words would be enough to make Hunter quit, he was wrong.

    Hunter knew his father was innocent of the crime he was accused of, but he¡¯d be lying if he said that his father wasn¡¯t strange. Hunter had inherited his obsession towards constructs from him after all. When his father had set his mind to something, nothing would stop him from achieving it. It was as stubborn streak that Hunter reveled in, one of the legacies that his father has passed onto him.

    They could take his family¡¯s money, their home, their land, and all of their possessions. But they couldn¡¯t take the blood that pumped through his heart, the Koar family blood that carried the spark of his fathers greatness within him. A spark that Hunter would stop at nothing to nurture until it took root within himself as well.

    He took a deep breath to calm himself. It didn¡¯t work, but it did help him shift his focus back to Jonathan¡¯s team.

    They¡¯d made a lot of progress while he was ruminating. Jonathan was studying the inside of the network hub. Hunter believed that he himself would have an advantage there¡ª he knew how wireless etherium network hubs were built. There were a few different versions, but they were all based on his father¡¯s original design.

    Hunter believed that he would also be able to quickly analyze the various constructs that were scattered across the room. His work over the last few years had helped him refine not only his eye for detail, but being able to rapidly diagnose and solve a problem was a necessary skill, as taking action and fixing the problem would take him more time than the average artisan.

    It would still be an overwhelming amount of work to get through this round, but the more Hunter thought about it, the more he could feel his sense of confidence return.

    This was what he was good at. He could do this.

    Jonathan¡¯s team completed the challenge in just under an hour and a half. When they activated the network hub, they all cheered and gave each other high-fives.

    ¡°Final time: 1 hour, 27 minutes, and 33 seconds,¡± the announcer said, after the judges walked through the room and assessed the team¡¯s work, ¡°Total time left, 32.45 minutes.¡±

    ¡°Completion score: 15.¡±

    ¡°Judges score: 5 stars. The total score for your team this round is 247.45.¡±

    Hunter tried to deduce how they were calculating the score. He could only at guess that the completion score was what the announcer had mentioned when she said they¡¯d be judged based on how they assessed and used the parts and constructs in the room.

    If they converted the time remaining into points, added that to the completion score, and multiplied that by the judges score, he roughly estimated that it would match the team¡¯s final score for the round. He assumed that the judges score always acted as a multiplier.

    Hunter had studied the team as they worked, understanding the logic of the challenge. Hunter was going to have to rely on his creativity more than he ever had before. He was comforted by the fact that it wasn¡¯t a binary pass or fail type of challenge. The fact that he could earn points meant that he could be strategic with how he approached it.

    Jonathan¡¯s team left the hub room, and a curtain was drawn over the the room¡¯s open end. Attendants entered the room through the curtain, carrying a new batch of constructs and parts. Hunter realized that they were mostly different than the ones the other team had used.

    Clever. That way they couldn¡¯t use the advantage that came from watching the other teams. Within a few minutes, the curtain was raised, and it was Hunters turn.

    The announcer called him forward. Hunter steeled himself and walked up to the room, ready to work. He let the spectators and observing teams fade from his attention.

    They gave him a minute to set up before the countdown started. In lieu of a workbench, he had to make use of what was available.

    ¡°Are you ready? The countdown starts¡­now!¡± the announcer said. Hunter sacrificed a few seconds to chug the rest of his coffee. It should kick in over the next 15 minutes, and he wanted to have a plan ready by then. He walked to the network hub and undid the front panel. He recognized the model straight away. Fourth generation, with some silly additions that seemed hardwired¡ª not just added for the sake of the competition. Hunter scoffed and shook his head. There was a small logo printed on the right-hand wall of the construct.

    LockeMark Industries. Typical. Why improve on what was already a great product, when you could make it worse? Typical corporate council corporation with their predictable, ass-backwards, nonsensical antilogic. He wouldn¡¯t have expected anything less.

    He took a minute to study the alterations the company had made, and realized that he could gain points just by taking them out, it wouldn¡¯t even take too long. It wouldn¡¯t be the first time that Hunter improved a constructs performance by ¡®ruining¡¯ a considerable portion of it.

    It only took a couple of minutes to trace most of the unwanted channels to their points of origin, and he severed the channels as best he could, outright eliminating a third of the glyphs in the construct. He made a mental list of potential improvements he could make, noting the parts he would need to activate the construct as well. There were a few ways he could do it, but it would depend on what was available to him.

    He spent the next 20 minutes looking through the provided parts and constructs. He separated them, and ended up with 5 which he deemed unsalvageable, 3 which he deemed salvageable, and 2 which appeared to work completely fine. Then he had a lightbulb moment and realized that some of the parts he rendered obsolete within the wireless network hub could be used to fix not only the salvageable ones, but he might even be able to make an entirely new construct with the parts leftover.

    The problem was exactly what he had expected from the beginning of the round, it was far too much work for him. So he focused on what he thought would bring him the most points. He was going to take a gamble on how the completion points were distributed; If he got one point for correctly identifying the status of one of the parts, and bonus points for creative use of the parts or constructs provided, then he would rather go for the latter option. He decided to cannibalize one of the fully functional constructs, using some of his synergies to completely transform one of the unsalvable constructs into something completely different.

    Its original form was a portable oven you could bring camping, or if you were staying somewhere off-grid. Hunter had converted it into a portable refrigerator. He took out a still-useful component of the oven and installed it into the network hub.

    After what felt like an hour, Hunter was feeling the pressure. His steps felt heavier, it was an effort to crouch and stand¡ª he had poor endurance and physical strength to begin with. He was mostly drained from the previous round, and the constant back and forth, activating the all the constructs as he assessed, disassembled, tested, and reassembled them, were taking its toll. A few times he had to stop and breathe quick, deep breaths to oxygenate his body. The coffee wasn¡¯t having as much of an effect as he¡¯d hoped.

    Time felt flexible to Hunter, he had to estimate how much time had passed based on how much work he¡¯d done, and comparing that to his initial assessment and expectations when he¡¯d first analyzed the room.

    There were two more parts he needed to install into the network hub, which he found between two more of the salvageable constructs¡ª a vacuum cleaner and a large, boxy flashlight. He then gutted the third salvageable construct, and fixed the flashlight. The vacuum cleaner was relegated to the table he had assigned to the unsalveable constructs.

    He also saw another part floating around which he could install into the network hub which would boost its output for a small decease in efficiency, which might be able to count as creative bonus points, but Hunter couldn¡¯t be sure.

    He estimated he had about 45 minutes left at this point. He had a plan to fix the previously fully functional construct which he¡¯d gutted at the beginning, but he didn¡¯t know if he had enough time. In the end, he decided to go with the network hub, hoping that it would bring him more points.

    Each second he spent fixing the network hub felt like it stretched onwards, and he expected to hear the buzzer sound to signal that he¡¯d run out of time. He felt relief when he attached the final battery to the network hub and activated it, signalling that he was done.

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    The judges approached the room and quietly observed the mess that Hunter had made with amused looks on their faces. Some of them appeared less than impressed, but Hunter didn¡¯t mind. He was just glad that he¡¯d been able to finish the round on time.

    The countdown clock was right above the room, and he couldn¡¯t see its face from where he currently stood.

    ¡°Cutting it quite close,¡± he heard one say as they passed him by. Hunter started to sweat. Exactly how close had he cut it?

    ¡°I must admit,¡± another one of the judges said as he picked through the constructs that Hunter had modified, ¡°you certaintly have a tendency to think outside of the box.¡±

    Hunter smiled, based on the judges expression he wasn¡¯t sure whether to take it as a compliment or not.

    The judges had to convene a few times. Hunter tried to make out what they were saying, but he couldn¡¯t tell if their postures, tones, and expressions meant they were furiously debating how well he¡¯d done, or if they were upset that he¡¯d done so poorly.

    He had taken some creative liberties. Assessing the resources he was given was the easiest part¡ª distinguishing what was useable and what wasn¡¯t was simple. In the end, there were many more unsalvageable constructs and parts piled together than their were useable ones. And all the useable ones had become patchwork conglomerations that functioned well but will certaintly lose points for aesthetics.

    Finally, it was time to announce the results.

    ¡°Time to completion: 1 hour, 59 minutes, and 32 seconds. Total time left: 28 seconds.¡±

    The announcer quickly conferred with the judges.

    ¡°Completion score: 19¡±

    ¡°Judges score: 2 stars. For a total score of 94.¡±

    Hunter sighed. Less than half of what Jonathan¡¯s team scored¡ª but if he was honest with himself, it was better than he¡¯d expected.

    He was tired to the bone, but there were still 3 teams left in the round. Hunter might be allowed to find a place to take a nap, but instead he decided to ask an attendant if it were possible to get another coffee after he¡¯d exited the stage.

    He doubted that caffeine would make a dent in the exhaustion he was feeling, and the attendant seemed concerned. Hunter must have appeared as exhausted as he felt, because the attendant quickly agreed with a look of pity on his face. They returned a few minutes later with a paper cup, meeting up with Hunter at his spot near the other teams who were watching David Nettle and his team as they assessed the parts they were given.

    Hunter wasn¡¯t very interested. He found a seat and did his best to stay awake. Just over an hour later, their score was announced.

    ¡°Team three, your total time to completion was 1 hour, 15 minutes, and 44 seconds. Your remaining time was 44.2 minutes.¡±

    ¡°Completion score: 12¡±

    ¡°Judges score: 5 stars, for a total score of 281¡±

    Hunter clapped with the other teams, and smiled, but it didn¡¯t reach his eyes. He felt bitter, but that bitterness was frail before the exhaustion. In a way he felt grateful for how tired he was. David gave Hunter a mock bow as he passed. If he was bothered by Hunters total nonreaction, he didn¡¯t show it.

    The fourth and fifth teams completed their rounds over the next 3 and a half hours. Scoring 270, and 235.92 points respectively.

    Hunter glanced at the scoreboard behind the countdown clock.

    TM 3: 281

    TM 4: 270

    TM 1: 247.45

    TM 5: 235.92

    TM 2: 94

    Hunter closed his eyes. He almost wished sleep would take him, and he¡¯d wake up back in his hotel suite, relieved that this had all just been a bad dream.

    But he reminded himself that the competition wasn¡¯t over yet.

    ¡°Teams! What an incredible display of talent, knowledge, and communication. Before we assess the final scores for the competition, Oberon Enterprises would like to thank you all for being here, thank you for pushing yourself and proving the the potential of the next generation. The future looks bright with all of you working so hard to improve yourselves, and the world, with your craft. We will take a short break, and in 20 minutes we will all reconvene to announce the final results of the competition, and this year¡¯s grand prize winner!¡±

    ¡°20 minutes,¡± Hunter muttered to himself. He had finished the coffee the attendant had given him long ago. He didn¡¯t feel any more awake than he had after his round was over. But he hadn¡¯t fallen asleep yet, so it must have done something.

    The teams were able to leave the stadium before the results were announced, and Hunter found a washroom and splashed cold water on his face. It refreshed him, and did help him feel a bit more awake. He wasn¡¯t sure how long it would last.

    He studied himself in the mirror. He had deep, dark bags under his eyes. He felt like he weighed about twice as much as usual. His joints and muscles felt sore. This whole competition had been a feat of endurance like Hunter had never known. The other teams were probably feeling it too, although to a much lesser degree.

    When he felt ready, he dragged himself back to the stadium and found his spot on the stage where a couple of the other teams were waiting.

    ¡°Told you,¡± David said as Hunter walked by him.

    ¡°It¡¯s not over yet,¡± Hunter said. He heard one of David¡¯s team mutter ¡®94.¡¯ The rest of the team snickered amongst themselves. Birds of a feather flock together, they say.

    Soon the final two teams appeared. As the announcer took the stage and stood before the 5 teams, she spoke to the spectators who were still filtering in. Standing before the stage was a gathering crowd of what Hunter could only guess were reporters and journalists, each carrying photo cameras, and bigger cameras for what might even be a live broadcast.

    ¡°In my hand I have the total calculated score for the teams performance during the competition, but before they¡¯re announced, I would like to thank our audience for attending, as well as all of our sponsors for making this event possible. A special thanks to Oberon Enterprises¡¯ esteemed Council partners, whose continued contribution to this annual competition paves the way for a bright future for everyone,¡± the announcer said to a polite round of applause from the assembled crowd, as well as the teams. He noticed Jimmy in the assembled journalists, and he gave Hunter a wink and a thumbs up.

    Was that encouragement? A bit late for that. But maybe it meant something else.

    Trey Oberon was watching, after all. Hunter had expected him to set up a meeting after the first round. He¡¯d kept a look out for him, to see if he could spot him with the judges, or in the spectators, or even watching from the side.

    So far, he hadn¡¯t seen anything. He knew the man¡¯s face¡ª who didn¡¯t these days? It was spread far and wide. Hunter had seen him during news broadcasts, advertisements, newspaper articles, and billboards. The life of a Council Seat was busy, and widely publicized.

    Hunter didn¡¯t take the lack of news personally. In fact, he was relieved. He wasn¡¯t looking forward to meeting with Trey Oberon¡ª if there was going to be a meeting at all. But maybe Jimmy¡¯s thumbs-up meant that it was coming.

    Hunter tried to tell himself that no matter what, his peformance during the competition would be enough to gain some attention, both positive and negative. He¡¯d managed to avoid being disqualified, and he knew that he¡¯d done better than anyone else could with not just one, but two handicaps. His low AR, and his lack of a supporting team.

    He would have options for his future, and that¡¯s what he¡¯d joined this competition to ensure.

    Before the first explorers manned the first outworld ships, and realized that the sky wasn¡¯t real, their were theories about singularities out in deep space, black holes with gravitational pulls so intense that not even light could escape. The future felt like one of those; a singularity¡ª and the results of this competition were the event horizon.

    The future was unknowable. He would have to take it as it comes.

    ¡°Now, for the event we¡¯ve been waiting for,¡± the announcer said, ¡°to hand out the awards for this years¡¯ competition, please welcome to the stage, Mrs. Idra Verillion, head assistant for Trey Oberon.¡±

    A middle-aged woman stepped up to the stage wearing a black dress with a grey blazer. She had brown hair and warm eyes that didn¡¯t fit Hunter¡¯s view of high-level corporate executives. But she wasn¡¯t exactly an executive, was she? What exactly was the job of the head assistant to a council seat?

    The teams all seemed to be impressed and surprised to see her. Hunter clapped and pretended to be just as surprised the other teams were.

    ¡°Without further ado, the results,¡± the announcer said, and the gathering crowd quieted down.

    ¡°This team was considered the underdog this year, but established themselves as a true contender after the first round, having earned 7 stars from our judges. As a multiplier for the total score earned during the second and third rounds, they earned a final score of 960.4! In 5th place, Hunter Koar!¡±

    Idra Verillion approached Hunter with a beaming smile and a blue medal which she hung around his neck, handing him a bunch of flowers, neatly twined together. The flashing lights from the camera left after-images in his vision, and he did his best to offer the most genuine-looking smile that he could.

    Try as he might, he could summon no emotion to back it up. He felt numb.

    5th place wasn¡¯t what he had aimed for. Had his performance in the first two rounds really only deemd him worthy of 5th place?

    But it was done. There was no disputing the score. He had to accept his fate.

    ¡°In fourth place, with a final score of 1535.53¡­¡±

    He almost couldn¡¯t believe that his final score had been so far below the rest of the teams.

    Hunter tuned out the noise around him. He never learned the names of the teams in fourth and third place. It didn¡¯t matter to him at this point.

    By the time they reached the final two teams, it was between David¡¯s team, and Jonathan¡¯s.

    Hunter wished he could place a money on the result. He¡¯d put every meager credit he had to his name on Jonathan¡¯s team. So far, their performance had been superior.

    ¡°In second place, they scored 6 stars in the first round..¡±

    Hunter sighed.

    ¡°..with a final score of 1827, David Nettle, Justin Gunner, Hilary Tonley, and Pepper Silva!¡±

    Hunter nodded to himself. He wonder what the payout would have been for that bet. Although it stung to lose so badly to David and his team, there was some relief, knowing that they didn¡¯t win the grand prize. Mrs. Verillion handed them their silver medals.

    ¡°And finally, the grand prize winner of this years Global Youth Artisan Competition, I present the team that won first place with a final score of 1928.15, Jonathan Berrymoore, Philip Golbrune, and Tilda Burner! Congratulations on having earned 4 sponsorships to the exclusive and prestigious Barnum Academy of Excellence, as well as 100 000 credits!¡±

    The team hugged eachother, each cheering in celebration. They had returned this year after having taken second place in the previous year, knowing that they were capable of more. And they¡¯d done it. They¡¯d won, even though the competition had been considered much fiercer, and the prizes much more valuable.

    ¡°And with that, we conclude this year¡¯s event. Thank you all for coming, and a special thanks to all of our contestants, who are visiting from all over the world to participate. We hope to see some of you at next year¡¯s competition, hosted by the Eastern Shield!¡±

    The teams exited the stage. The winners were quickly surrounded by journalists and reporters looking for interviews.

    Hunter wanted to make a quiet exit, but before he could, Mrs. Verillion caught him by the shoulder.

    ¡°Mr. Koar, congratulations on attaining 5th place. It really is an impressive result,¡± she said. Hunter wanted to thank her and leave, but she continued.

    ¡°My boss, Mr. Trey Oberon, has expressed an interest in meeting with you. He¡¯s busy today, but he¡¯s scheduled a large block of time for tomorrow afternoon. Is that acceptable to you?¡±

    So, there it was. The invitaiton he¡¯d been waiting for and dreading. At least it wasn¡¯t until the next day.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± was all Hunter had the energy to say. Mrs. Verillion smiled.

    ¡°Perfect. Someone will come to pick you up at noon, tomorrow. Don¡¯t worry, we know where you¡¯re staying,¡± she said, and then considered her words as Hunters expression shifted, ¡°that didn¡¯t come out quite right. Joyce Collingwood informed us of where she had set up your accomadations. This is embarrasing, I can be so careless with my words!¡±

    Hunter smiled and excused himself.

    He was too tired to eat, so he headed straight to the suite. He didn¡¯t see Jeremy¡¯s team on the way out, and realized he had no way to contact them. He briefly considered staying behind to wait and see if he could spot them, but he had no confidence in being able to stay awake for much longer.

    He virtually stumbled his way to the hotel, and fell onto his bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

 Chapter 15

    Hunter hadn¡¯t known what to expect. Maybe an SUV, like the one Joyce had sent to pick him up from Seckina, or something a bit more incognito and mainstream which you would see hundreds of while driving through the Oberon Capital. What hunter hadn¡¯t expected, although he thought the he probably should have, was for a Kellese¡ª a construct-dominant car designed by a company called Kreig with high-society clients in mind, built for people who have plenty of credits and affinity to spare.

    As far as Hunter knew, Kreig had been around since near the beginning of the automotive industry, and their shift towards incorporating constructs in their products had been revolutionary at the time. They¡¯d maintained something of a monopoly on the luxury end of their niche; not lucrative enough to afford a Seat at the Council, but certaintly enough to net them worldwide recognition, and Hunter would be willing to bet that most Council Seats had one or two stored away in a garage somewhere.

    Hunter wondered how the mind of such an individual worked. What was Trey¡¯s intention? Was this a message to Hunter?

    For once in his life, Hunter didn¡¯t mind the idea of having his psychology toyed with by a super-rich monarch. Next to getting himself inside of a ship bound outworld, this car was the second best thing.

    Hunter hadn¡¯t known who he was supposed to meet, or where. would he get a call to tell him to meet someone at the lobby? Would they expect for him to wait outside the building for them? As the minutes counted down towards the appointed time, he found himself getting nervous. But he had nothing to worry about, the driver knocked on his door at nearly 12pm sharp.

    His name was Barry. He introduced himself with a smile and a tip of his hat. They enjoyed a short and awkward elevator ride together and Berry led Hunter out the back of the building. When Hunter had seen the Kellese parked by the back entrance of the hotel, his heart had skipped a beat. There was a reason that it was considered a symbol for power. Where the most typical automotive design tended to lean towards right angles and practical design elements, the Kellese was made to look like a predator, poised to strike its prey, ready to accelerate as fast as the speed of light.

    Kreig went far off the beaten path when it came to how they designed their cars. He¡¯d heard people say that the Kellese was an eyesore, but Hunter couldn¡¯t disagree more.

    Barry opened a door for Hunter, and Hunter stepped into a level of luxury he hadn¡¯t enjoyed in many, many years. The thought almost brought back a pang of grief, but he pushed it away before it could ruin such a sweet moment. Barry entered the drivers seat and put his hands on the wheel, and at his touch, the car came to life. He could hear it sing¡ª the etherium, he could feel the desires rise and fall as it flowed from glyph to glyph, accelerating here, decelerating there, amplified here, reinforced there, he could hear the subtle songs of Fire and Ice glyphs, he could here a whirring chorus from the front of the car, underneath the hood. It was angelic.

    But it was also inefficient. He could sense some subtle, familiar distortions, where the etherium desired to soar, it was made to bare weights. Where it wanted to scream at the top of its lungs, it was made to whisper. He could feel that at certain points, the etherium would disappear, kind of like how eyes had a blind spot, it felt the same with the etherium. Hunter would need to verify it himself, but it would seem that Kreig had been experimenting with using Drawstone shards in lieu of Link glyphs. It was an old method¡ª extremely expensive. Drawstones were cheap, but cutting a drawstone with precision was an expensive process, and it demanded a high AR cost. Based on feel alone, Hunter would say that the AR requirement of this ride was over 50 at the very least, and might even go as high as the 60¡¯s.

    The process of using shards in lieu of link glyphs had been a short episode in the history of constructs and networks¡ª lasting a small handful of years before his father introduced Link. He wondered why they were using shards, given the inefficiency. Surely a Link glyph would suffice. But then he remembered that these types of products weren¡¯t geared towards consumer who had pragmatic ideas about cost and effectiveness. He¡¯d heard stories of how wealthy clients mostly preferred form over function¡ª especially wealthy clients with high AR¡¯s. He¡¯d heard that Krieg¡¯s core customer base came from the Pacific Shield. Most of the Pacific Shield''s core business was security; retired or active military family''s, having trained their AR like they would any muscle.

    Hunter was impressed by Barry. He had never once shown any hint of strain or exhaustion from keeping the car activated for an extended period of time.

    He drove Hunter out of the city, along one of the most scenic countryside''s that Hunter had ever seen. He brought Hunter out towards Hook¡ª a small mountain that the Oberon¡¯s had come to call home over a century ago. Hunter hadn¡¯t realized that the Oberon¡¯s lived so far away from the city. It took an hour after having reached the countryside to make it to the Oberon¡¯s estate. Barry must have had an AR in the high 60¡¯s at least. Maybe even higher. Hunter would have places his age somewhere around the late 40¡¯s, too. That wasn¡¯t a bad score. People¡¯s AR typically tend to plateau as approach their 40th year. It was only those who train religiously with drawstones or have a high natural affinity that see growth into their later years, and who also tended to benefit from an increased longevity. On average, a person with an AR over 50 tended to live at least 10 years longer than average. Those with AR¡¯s over 100¡ª which incredibly rare¡ª have been known to live as long as 140 years.

    Hunter had never been to the mountains, and he enjoyed the novel scenery. Eventually the thin, winding road flanked by forest gave way and up to a manicured lawn that seemed endless. The lawn must have ran for half a mile on both sides. He wondered whose job it was to maintain it. How well would the Oberon family pay that worker? The lawn was trimmed along the edge closest to the road, or in hindsight Hunter would call it the driveway, with an assortment of trees that all appeared to have been shaped as they¡¯d grown, their trunks twisted in spirals, their branches arcing in symmetry, creating something of a sparse canopy, colored red, yellow, and orange as autumn rose in summer¡¯s retreat.

    Just before the Oberon mansion, the road bifurcated around a floral arrangement that appeared to resemble a crest¡ª a family crest, too complex for Hunter to give much thought too. And who else would it belong to? As they passed the crest, the mansion itself appeared. A study in sleek design¡ª old fashioned gravitas meeting modernity¡ª it was a squat building, only 3 storey''s total. The front of the house was shaped like an arrowhead that pierced towards the sky, the front door was nested behind two large columns.

    Barry disengaged the car¡ª the etherium continuing to flow after Barry had taken his hands off the wheel. It was fascinating. Hunter wanted to take the car apart and understand every inch of its design. He wondered if they used small batteries to siphon a small charge, which would slowly discharge over time. The car would naturally deactivate over the course of seconds as the glyph networks demanded and devoured the etherium held in the batteries¡¯ grasp.

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    After regretfully leaving the Kellese behind, Barry led Hunter to the front door. Mrs. Verilion appeared to be expecting them, opening the door before they could knock. She wore a bright smile and waved Hunter in.

    ¡°Thanks for the smooth ride, Barry! Such a beautiful car,¡± Hunter said, still getting over the high of having been inside such an artisnal masterpiece.

    ¡°Always a pleasure to drive someone who has an eye for true beauty, Mr. Koar,¡± Barry bowed, and then left to bring the car to wherever it called home.

    ¡°Welcome to the Oberon family estate, Mr. Koar. You seemed to have enjoyed the ride over, which I¡¯m proud to hear. Mr. Oberon thought you¡¯d appreciate the Kellese more than most. He is just concluding some business, and will be ready to receive you shortly. Come on in, have you eaten?¡± Mrs. Verilion asked, moving before Hunter could answer.

    ¡°I¡¯m starving,¡± Hunter said. He had never pushed himself like he had over the last couple of days. The morning coffee had done a little to tide over his appetite, but it started to return with a vengeance during the drive. She led him to a small waiting room outside what he assumed to be Trey Oberon¡¯s home office. A large wooden double door with intricate chrome handles; one of the more modern additions to the mansion, Hunter assumed. The door itself was framed by a wall that appeared to be solid rock. Whether it was a facade or not, Hunter couldn¡¯t tell. He figured that the Council Seat could afford to have a rock wall installed inside his house, if for no other reason than the fact that it looked badass.

    Hunter realized that he was feeling very impressed by Trey Oberon so far. He wondered if this had been his intention with sending a driver in a Kellese to pick him up. Hunter wouldn¡¯t put it past a Council Seat to know how to knead at peoples emotions for their own advantage. Hunter started to calm down. With the upset from his ranking yesterday, maybe he was just looking for a reason to ride a positive emotion for all it was worth. Had Trey Oberon been counting on that?

    He shuddered at the thought. Maybe he was overthinking it, but it would serve him well to remember that this was a bureaucrat at the highest level of society. He couldn¡¯t know if he was being paranoid, or entirely practical and realistic in his assessment. Trey Oberon led one of the most successful mega-corporations in the world. The other Council Seats have all proven themselves to be mercurial, cold, and desperately hungry for whatever scrap of advantage they could get. He had no reason to believe, personally, that Oberon Enterprises would be any different. This would be a meeting that would require every ounce of brainpower Hunter could summon. He would not allow himself to be taken advantage of.

    His future would depend on it. He wasn¡¯t delusional, he knew he couldn¡¯t outwit a career politician. But he would have to try. Who knows? Maybe he¡¯ll surprise himself.

    He couldn¡¯t be sure about the Oberon monarch until the meeting started. Hunter had no idea what to expect from the meeting itself, regarding how long or brief it was going to be. He doubted that Trey Oberon would have had Hunter driven all the way over to his family estate just to shake his hand and congratulate him on placing 5th in the competition. Hunter hoped that meant that he¡¯d been thoroughly impressed by Hunters¡¯ performance. Impressed enough to offer him something like a job.

    He huffed at the thought. If he¡¯d have told himself a month ago that he would be seriously considering working for a corporation¡ª on his own terms, of course¡ª Hunter would have thought that the Comics had tainted his water supply with a particularly potent hallucinogen. He would have had trouble even dreaming of something like this, not even in his worst nightmare. But Hunter was starting to realize that when it came down to the wire, he was capable of making choices he wouldn¡¯t otherwise contemplate.

    He hated to admit it, but he was long past the point of turning his nose at the prospect of having to continually impress, kiss ass, and ingratiate himself to a hierarchy if he had even the barest sliver of a chance of getting off of Sanctuary. And he felt that he would have the easiest time doing what he was good at. If there was one thing he was hoping to sell during the competition, it was that if he had nothing else to offer, what he did have in spades was potential. Potential to learn, to grow, and to make a hell of a lot of money by doing things that the competition couldn¡¯t do.

    He¡¯d proven that in his assessment of himself. He¡¯d proven it to himself. It was no longer an abstract notion, he had concrete proof with which to gauge his performance against some of the most capable artisans of his generation. And, given the judges reaction, maybe even the generations previous. He¡¯d known that his sensitivity to etherium provided him with insight that other¡¯s wouldn¡¯t be able to match, but he¡¯d never had the chance to pit himself against others, he¡¯d never had the chance to put his estimation to the test.

    But now he felt that his potential had been quantified, and despite the disappointing result of the competition, he was happy enough with the outcome. He knew that he wasn¡¯t done yet. Etherium still had a million mysteries calling him, inviting him to explore and create.

    Even with all of that proof, the meeting with Trey still felt like a doorway into a dark dimension. What would the trajectory of his life look like when he walked back through those two large, wooden doors?

    Mrs. Verilion returned with a couple of sandwhiches, saying that her morning had been busy as well and that she hadn¡¯t had time to eat yet. He made a comment about Trey being a demanding boss, and she laughed, but then corrected him.

    ¡°I knew what the job was when Mr. Oberon brought me on. As far as bosses go, I¡¯ve seen a lot worse. I¡¯ve had colleagues call me during mental breakdowns, hiding in bathrooms where their boss couldn¡¯t find them. It takes a certain kind of person to be a Council Seat, and many of them don¡¯t understand why everyone around them can¡¯t work 18 hour days, 7 days a week like they can,¡± she said.

    ¡°And you¡¯re saying that Mr. Oberon is different?¡± Hunter asked.

    ¡°In some ways he¡¯s the same, of course. He¡¯s running a seated corporation without a board of executives to pass all the big decisions off to,¡± she said, ¡°you can¡¯t get around the workload and the stress that comes with it, but he¡¯s self aware about how his capabilities, and the capabilities of the people he works with can vary wildly. He tries to be fair, when he can.¡±

    She took a bite of her sandwich and Hunter took the chance to start eating his own. He¡¯d be curious as to whether the quality of the sandwich would match the quality of the car that came to pick him up at the hotel. But it was just a normal sandwich. It was a tasty sandwich, but Hunter had tasted a thousand like it before. Honestly, he¡¯d have preferred a bit more mustard.

    Mrs. Verilion checked her watch.

    ¡°He should be finished in about 5 minutes, is there anything else I can get you while you wait?¡±

    ¡°Is there a washroom around here?¡± he asked. She nodded and pointed him to a door down the hallway.

    ¡°If that¡¯s all, then I''ll see you when your meeting has concluded,¡± she said, smiling as she left. The next 5 minutes felt like 10. Hunter wolfed down what was left of his sandwich and sighed, wishing that he¡¯d asked for a coffee as well. He¡¯d had a small one earlier in the morning, just before Barry picked him up, but the toll that the competition had taken had affected him more than he¡¯d expected. He felt there was something inside of him that had been strained far beyond what it was capable of supporting. He¡¯d only felt it a few times in his life, and it had only ever been to a fraction of the degree compared to what he was feeling now.

    His mind was functioning fine, but something deep within him¡ª it was the only way Hunter knew how to describe it, felt like it was signalling for nourishment. That typically went away after a day of rest, but this was louder than it had ever been before. Loud enough that Hunter could almost notice the strangeness of it. It didn¡¯t feel physical¡ª although he did feel a bit drowsy, it felt more like a subtle inefficiency in a construct.

 Chapter 16

    Typically, that would be an invitation to investigate the inefficiency. Was it a matter of not getting enough etherium, was it a matter of the etherium¡¯s desire or charge? And when he knew that, he could then go about troubleshooting the best way to address it. But Hunter didn¡¯t know how to even begin addressing what he was feeling. He knew it had to do with his affinity, and the process of how the body became a conduit of etherium when it came in contact with a drawstone. Beyond that, he felt like he was in the dark. There was no way to figure it out, at least not now. Maybe one day, he¡¯d have a clearer answer.

    The large wooden doors leading to Trey Oberon¡¯s office cracked open. Hunter suddenly felt nervous. The first thing Hunter noticed about the man who stepped out of the office was an incredible suit. His father had always loved suits, and had tried to stoke Hunters interest in them as well. Hunter never cared much¡ª but he learned enough to tell a good suit from a great suit. The man was shorter than Hunter, which was nothing new to him. His peppered hair was receding, and he had a scruffy, short grey beard which appeared simultaneously ungroomed and strategically contained. He gave Hunter a brilliant, thousand-watt smile which caused the skin around his eyes to crinkle. He put his hands on his hips and leaned back a bit, taking Hunter in.

    ¡°You must be Hunter,¡± he said, the smile on his face unwavering. Hunter didn¡¯t know what to do.

    ¡°Mr. Oberon?¡± He asked. Of course it was him. Who else would it be? The exhaustion he¡¯d been feeling must have been deeper than he thought¡ª his neurons were probably short-circuiting.

    ¡°In the flesh!¡± Trey Oberon said, pushing the door open slightly and gesturing for Hunter to lead the way, ¡°after you, come take a seat.¡±

    Hunter stepped into the office. It was bigger than the hotel suite he¡¯d been staying in.

    The roof appeared to be taller than the rest of the mansion, and Hunter figured that it could just as well be the case. Despite its size, it felt cozy. It was homey, yet ornate. Big leather couches ringed a large, solid wooden coffee table. The couches were flanked on both sides by bookshelves that stretched almost the entirety of the office, but for the last third of it. At the point where the bookshelves terminated, two shallow steps elevated the rest of the room, centered by very modern-looking desk made of steel and glass. Two cozy armchairs were stationed towards the desk. Trey passed Hunter and took his spot behind the desk, where he sat on a modest swivel seat. As he sat, he spun himself in the chair to face the large windows that showcased an incredibly view.

    He could see the mountain¡¯s descent, and in the distance he could make out the capital city.

    An earthy, smokey scent filled the air. He could also smell coffee, and felt a sudden urge to ask if there was any prepared, but he worried that there was an etiquette around that which he hadn¡¯t been aware of.

    ¡°So?¡± Trey Oberon said, spreading his arms wide as he looked back towards Hunter, ¡°What do you think, gorgeous, right?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful,¡± Hunter said.

    Trey was about to say something, but then he appeared to change his mind.

    ¡°Sit down, young man. Relax. I trust that Idra already asked, but is there anything I can get you? Water? Coffee? Right, you¡¯re definitely a coffee guy. I remember watching you chug that 20 oz. before starting the final round,¡± he said with a sharp laugh.

    ¡°Uh, yeah. Sure, some coffee would be great,¡± Hunter said, feeling like he¡¯d just been caught off guard. Was this the monarch of the Oberon domain, offering to make him a cup of coffee? Is this how the script was supposed to go?

    ¡°Perfect, I just had some made a short while ago. You wouldn¡¯t believe how tedious morning meetings can be. Maybe one day you will, and if so, you have my condolences,¡± he said, his voice grim. He left his chair and walked back towards the leather sofas¡ª which was quite the walk considering how big the office was. Hunter started to get out of the chair, and saw that there was a small table behind one of the sofa¡¯s which he hadn¡¯t seen. There was an ornate coffee press, some cups, and what looked like cream and sugar. Trey¡¯s face scrunched up and he waved at Hunter, indicating that he should sit back down.

    ¡°What kind of host would I be if I made you get up to get your own coffee? What do you take?¡±

    ¡°Sorry?¡± Hunter asked.

    ¡°In your coffee, what do you take? Cream, sugar?¡± Trey asked, raising his voice slightly as he neared the table, which must have been 20 yards away from the desk.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Hunter said, cursing himself. He raised his voice slightly so that Trey could hear him, ¡°yeah, maybe three of each?¡±

    He felt strange, sitting in the armchair and looking out a the view while one of the most powerful people in the world was making him a cup of coffee.

    Was he still asleep? Maybe he¡¯d collapsed mid-round and was now comatose, stuck in a dream world.

    He pinched himself to make sure.

    This was definitely real.

    Trey returned with the coffees.

    ¡°Your dad liked it black, you know,¡± Trey said as Hunter took a sip. He almost spit it out after hearing Trey¡¯s casual comment.

    ¡°You knew my dad?¡± Hunter asked, careful not to choke on the warm liquid. It was perfect, better than perfect, even. Do rich people have better sugar than poor people? It didn¡¯t taste like an alternative sweetener. It was definitely sugar, but it was just better than any other sugar he¡¯d ever had.

    ¡°Knew him? We practically spent the majority of our teenage years together. I had more money than I knew what to do with and he had more ideas than he knew what to do with, so we started a few businesses.¡±

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    ¡°As teenagers?¡± Hunter asked. He¡¯d never heard this from his father before. He felt like that would be a significant piece of information.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say they were great businesses, but some of the lessons I learned in those early days are things that have helped me keep this corporation seated for the last couple of decades. New worlds, new physics, the rising accessibility of constructs, you know? The whole landscape of business and governance is changing. And it wasn¡¯t just business lessons I learned during those days either,¡± Trey said, his eyes defocusing, seeming to get lost in some nostalgic dream.

    Hunter was curious to hear more. Now that he thought about it, his father had never been too open about his past, and Hunter had never felt the need to ask.

    ¡°But those are stories for another time. Where were we? Right,¡± he said, smirking, ¡°Your dad was almost religious about how he took his coffee. I gave him one like mine once, and I take more cream and sugar than you do. He spit it out, onto an incredibly expensive carpet, mind you,¡± Trey laughed, ¡°¡®That¡¯s not coffee, that¡¯s candy,¡¯ he said to me. Can you believe that?¡±

    Hunter laughed too. It did sound like something his dad would say.

    ¡°I loved that rug,¡± Trey continued, ¡°I¡¯ve still got it somewhere, I think. Anyways, yeah, me and your dad went way back.¡±

    ¡°I had no idea,¡± Hunter said, ¡°He never really mentioned you, but to be fair he never mentioned much about his past.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not surprising,¡± Trey said, ¡°After your mother died, he changed. Which¡ª fair enough, you know? And then he had you to take care of as well, and his company. And he always loved to research, always tinkering. By the time he passed away, he and I hadn¡¯t talked for years.¡±

    Trey sighed, and Hunter considered what he could possibly say.

    He¡¯d never known his mother. He didn¡¯t really feel attached to her, but his mood would always sour when the subject of his father¡¯s death was brought up.

    ¡°I see,¡± Hunter said, taking a breath to keep himself centered and calm.

    ¡°So, Jimmy told me he met with you and filled you in on the basics, but Jimmy only knew enough to do the job he was hired to do. The first reason I brought you here was to answer any questions you might have, and I expect that you might have a few,¡± Trey said, spreading his hands wide, ¡°I¡¯m an open book. Ask me anything. Within reason, obviously.¡±

    Of course Hunter had questions. But the questions he wanted to ask the most were questions that could burn a bridge before it was even built. Obviously, he suspected that his father¡¯s death was a conspiracy. He knew that his father would never hurt innocent people, the evidence was planted. The problem was that he couldn¡¯t ask Trey Oberon if he had a hand in that, could he?

    He was tempted to. He felt a rage just below his chest, threatening to force itself up through his tongue.

    ¡°Why¡¯d you help me?¡± he asked after he took a second to pull his anger away to a safe distance.

    Trey nodded, and took a sip of his coffee.

    ¡°As I said, your father and I go back. Before we went on to live our lives, we were great friends. I valued those years immensely. I learned a lot about humility and loyalty from that man. I learned about people¡ª people who weren¡¯t born as privileged as I was. Your father and I helped them whenever we could. One of the reasons why most of the businesses we started ended up failing was because we were far too charitable. Don¡¯t get me wrong, it was usually your father who managed to pull me over the line. If I¡¯d had my way, the businesses probably would have succeeded,¡± he said, looking wistful again, smiling at the memories.

    ¡°But I don¡¯t think I¡¯d be half the man I¡¯d be now if your dad hadn¡¯t persuaded me to make so many misguided financial decisions,¡± he said with a chuckle, but it seemed forced, ¡°so, when I caught wind that some of my colleagues on the Council had invoked certain emergency policies regarding their acquisition of your family¡¯s estate, I felt compelled to act. You were the child of one of the best friends I¡¯d ever had, how could I not?¡±

    It occurred to Hunter that all he had was Trey¡¯s word about the relationship he had with his father. He squinted his eyes as he thought. Then, he almost slapped himself.

    He hadn¡¯t been thinking.

    This was a Council Seat. Why had he been so tempted to just take his word at face value?

    Mrs. Verilion had said that Trey was different, as far as Council Seats go, and why did he believe her?

    Did he believe her? He felt tempted to.

    Why?

    Because she¡¯d been friendly. She¡¯d appeared so completely different to him than the typical corporate drone that Hunter¡¯s guard had been completely bypassed. It was the exact same way with Trey Oberon. He¡¯d need to be more careful, going forward. However, he realized he needed to exercise rational judgement. What if there was truth to Trey¡¯s words? He needed a way to verify it.

    ¡°I wonder if you have anything from those days, something of my fathers. You people-- the Council took everything from me,¡± Hunter said, practically choking out the words. He almost regretted the way they came out, but there was suddenly a burning feeling in his solar plexus. It was a familiar rage, mixed with a grief that he¡¯d never known how to deal with.

    Trey considered him for a second.

    ¡°I feel like there¡¯s another question you want to ask me. You know, your father had a bit of a rebellious streak,¡± Trey said, studying Hunters face.

    Hunter didn¡¯t trust himself to speak, Trey took his silence as an invitation to continue.

    ¡°He didn¡¯t trust authority. I¡¯m sure you knew that,¡± Trey said. Hunter nodded.

    It was true. His father thought very little of the council corporations, including Oberon Enterprises. Although, if he thought about it, maybe he could honestly say that Oberon never really received the same degree of vitriol from his father that the other corporations did.

    ¡°So I suspect the real question you want to ask me is, ¡®why the hell should I believe a word you¡¯re telling me?¡¯ Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m not feral dog. I won¡¯t bite, Hunter. Tell me what¡¯s on your mind, let¡¯s talk.¡±

    Hunter took a deep breath.

    Well, he asked for it.

    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re right, I don¡¯t know if I can trust you,¡± Hunter said, feeling like he needed to force out the words. Every syllable felt like a risk.

    ¡°Over the years I''ve thought about what you might want from me. I wondered why you¡¯d set me up with a house and a fake ID, and then seem to forget that I ever existed.¡±

    ¡°And, any theories?¡± Trey asked, seeming genuinely intrigued by Hunters thoughts.

    ¡°I knew you¡¯d have to be pretty high in the corporate ladder, so I figured it was a game. Maybe you thought that I, being Gideon Koars¡¯ son, might know a thing or two about my fathers research and work that you didn¡¯t want your competition getting their hands on.¡±

    Trey nodded.

    ¡°A compelling theory. But why wouldn¡¯t I have contacted you in order to try and gain that information, myself? After all, I had years with which I could have built a connection with you, years where I could have found a way to extract what you know.¡±

    Hunter frowned. He¡¯d realized the same thing. As the years went on, and no one came to cash in on whatever credit they figured Hunter owed them for getting him away from interest of the people who wanted him, he stopped thinking about it too much. He had other more immediate concerns to deal with.

    ¡°What about the accusations? If you knew my father, you¡¯d know that he never would have done the things the Council accused him of. What was your role in that?¡± Hunter asked.

    Trey shook his head.

    ¡°That was something that confused me for a long, long time. I had harbored similar suspicions about my colleagues. It wouldn¡¯t be the first time they¡¯d have pulled something like that. But I looked, Hunter,¡± He said, his tone lowering and his voice growing quieter. His whole demeanor changed, he sagged a bit.

    ¡°I investigated for years. So many rounds of questions, interrogations, fact checking, over and over again, constantly retreading the same ground, checking for any sign of a contradiction or an inconsistency that could point me in the direction of a conspiracy. I found nothing.¡±

 Chapter 17

    Hunter shook his head. Either Trey was lying, or he missed something.

    ¡°I get it. Really, I do. You asked me how you can trust me. Here,¡± he said, pointing to a small picture frame on his desk. He turned it around so that Hunter could see it. It was a picture of Trey and his father, when they were both much younger. They were both holding a necklace. Hunter recognized his fathers, and Trey¡¯s was similar. Trey let go of the frame and reached under the collar of his shirt, pulling out the same necklace.

    ¡°You can probably guess, but we modeled the them after Asutnahem words. As far as we could tell, they aren¡¯t glyphs, and we only have a rough translation, but it was enough for us to want to take with us. Mine means either ¡®self knowledge,¡¯ or ¡®seeing beneath the surface¡¯ depending on who you ask. His necklace meant either ¡®truth¡¯ or ¡®power¡¯, again, depending on who you ask. To us, the uncertainty was exactly what made them so meaningful,¡± he said. He took the necklace off and studied it with a fond look.

    ¡°We¡¯d had a good year. Miserable for business, but we¡¯d made a lot of friends, and discovered a lot about ourselves. The necklaces were your fathers idea. We were drunk, and he said something about the mysteries of the world meaning different things depending on your point of view. It was one of the most profound things i¡¯d ever heard at the time. He always was a bit more inclined towards philosophy than I was, and it was a meaningful trophy of our time together. That was something that he and I both understood. Symbols, and a shared vision. I¡¯ve kept the necklace with me ever since.¡±

    Hunter studied the picture in the frame. It was definitely his father. He seemed so young, there was a lightness and humor in his eyes that Hunter had never seen there before. His fathers eyes had always seemed either sad, focused, or impassioned whenever he was around him. His father had his arm around Trey¡¯s shoulder in the picture, both of them were smiling.

    ¡°Did you ever find the necklace?¡± Hunter asked. He¡¯d held it once, his fathers necklace. It was one of his first memories. Trey shook his head.

    ¡°No. I assumed it was lost in the explosion that took his life. I¡¯m sorry, Hunter. If I''d found it I would have had it delivered to you as soon as I could.¡±

    Hunter sighed away the faint trace of hope that had bloomed for a beautiful moment.

    ¡°What about the briefcase?¡± Hunter asked, suddenly remembering the final unanswered question he had about his time in Seckina.

    Trey raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Briefcase?¡± He asked.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t have someone leave a briefcase at my door?¡± Hunter asked.

    Trey seemed genuinely confused.

    ¡°Apart from the ID and the house, I don¡¯t recall having sent you anything. Something from a neighbor, perhaps? What did the briefcase look like? What was inside it?¡±

    Hunter shrugged. Trey didn¡¯t seem to know. Hunter decided to follow his gut and bend the truth a bit. Trey didn¡¯t have to know everything.

    ¡°It was nothing. I¡¯d just always wondered who¡¯d left it there.¡±

    ¡°Alright,¡± Trey said, his eyes slightly narrowed. Then he shrugged, ¡°anymore questions?¡±

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me sooner? About my father, about all of this?¡± Hunter asked, ¡°Why wait until now?¡±

    Trey sighed and considered his hands for a moment.

    ¡°A man in my position expects a certain degree of visibility. There are only so many degrees of privacy that I can enjoy without spending a lot of money on covering my tracks, and even then, there is always the risk of someone noticing all those credits moving. I wanted to get you out of sight without the the rest of the Council catching wind of my involvement. I¡¯m not exactly proud of this, but we Council Seats hold a certain understanding in how we conduct business with each other. I had the option to take part in the confiscation of your fathers estate, you understand? I declined, but that refusal came with implications. Are you following me?¡± Trey asked.

    Hunter shook his head. Trey bit his bottom lip and tilted his head, maybe considering how to word his elaboration.

    ¡°Three Council Seats split your family¡¯s estate amongst themselves. The moment the emergency policies were invoked, your family¡¯s estate became their business. That includes, in their view, any information you had about your father, and any of the work he might have left behind after his passing. The moment I took you away from them, I was directly interfering in their business,¡± Trey explained.

    That was enough for Hunter to understand the implication. If they caught wind that Trey had hidden Hunter, he¡¯d be at odds with the rest of the Council.

    ¡°So it would have made your relationship with the rest of the Council difficult.¡±

    Trey snorted.

    ¡°There¡¯s a lot going on behind scenes that the public will probably never know about, but I think its enough to say that the relationship between the Council Seats is already difficult. In fact,¡± he paused, ¡°ah, never mind. That¡¯s not anything you need to worry about. You¡¯ve had enough on your plate, haven¡¯t you? And I realize I haven¡¯t fully answered your question. The rest of the answer is that, to be quite honest¡ª and I hope you¡¯ll forgive me, I had absolutely no idea what to do with you.¡±

    Honestly, it wasn¡¯t what Hunter had expected to hear. That¡¯s it?

    ¡°You didn¡¯t know what to do with me?¡± Hunter asked.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Trey said, ¡°I know, I know, it¡¯s not a great answer. I had people check up on you a couple of times, and you seemed like you were working to support yourself. You were still outwardly identifying as Jonathan, and I figured that you¡¯d started moving on with your life.¡±

    Hunter wanted to throw something at him.

    ¡°Moving on with my life,¡± Hunter repeated. He almost couldn¡¯t believe what he was hearing. The great political game, the pressure of being a pawn, a piece on a board, the paranoia he¡¯d silently suffered for years¡ª and it was all just a misunderstanding? A snap judgement? A convenient delusion?

    Hunter realized he was shaking his head as he thought. Trey raised a hand to forestall any objection to what he¡¯d said.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Look, this all brings me to the second reason why I brought you here today,¡± Trey said, standing up from his seat and turning to take in the view behind him.

    ¡°Jimmy told me a bit about what you went through while you were living there. I heard about the gang¡ª I¡¯m sorry about that, too. I should have taken more of an interest in what was going on around that neighborhood. I dropped the ball, and I¡¯d like to make it up to you.¡±

    Again, Hunter didn¡¯t trust himself to speak, so he let Trey continue.

    ¡°When Jimmy first told me that you had signed up for the competition under your real name, I was shocked. I¡¯d never forgotten about you, but as I said, over the years I¡¯d found reasons to expect that you were able to take care of yourself. Naturally, I had other priorities.¡±

    Hunter wished he didn¡¯t understand where Trey was coming from. He wanted to disagree with Trey, and say that a man with his resources can and should do better. But couldn¡¯t he relate to Trey? When he had to focus on survival, on having enough food, on paying rent, on getting through tough jobs, he wasn¡¯t worried about the Council, conspiracies, or even the rising gang violence in the neighborhood. He understood that there was only so much that a person could focus on at once.

    Hunter wanted to be mad at Trey, but he found that he couldn¡¯t be. At least, not completely. He was annoyed at having spent so much time paranoid and angry at absolutely nothing. But there was a whisper at the back of his mind¡ª what would he have done differently if he wasn¡¯t worried? Would he have been as motivated to push himself, to leverage his sensitivity, to distract himself with the depths of etherium, if he hadn¡¯t felt like there was a world that he needed to hide from, or a dark fate to fight against?

    ¡°Announcing yourself to the world has naturally raised a problem,¡± Trey said, interrupting Hunter¡¯s thoughts, ¡°I¡¯ve received memos from all the interested parties, politely inquiring about your identity and status. Of course, I''ve held off from answering them over the last few days, but I expect that very soon those inquiries will not be anywhere near as polite as they have been. So we are on a very strict timetable to find and deploy a solution. I¡¯ve thought of one, of course, but I would love to hear your thoughts on the matter.¡±

    He turned slightly away from the view as he spoke, glancing at Hunter.

    ¡°I doubt you were unaware about the dangers of revealing yourself, so what changed, and what do you want?¡±

    Hunter took a few second to think about what he wanted to say. This whole conversation had felt overwhelming. He needed a second to remember why he was here, and what led him here in the first place. He almost laughed when he considered that choice he¡¯d made a few days prior. It already felt like it was a month ago. Maybe etherium strain, or whatever he was suffering at the moment, could mess with his sense of time.

    ¡°It was an accident, during the preliminary test,¡± he said, thinking back to that critical moment when he was faced with the choice of continuing on, or running away, ¡°as I handed in the test, I realized i¡¯d written my real name instead of my fake name. I had considered the consequences, but I was tired of being Jonathan. I figured joining the competition as Hunter would be worth whatever problems arose¡ª better than being forced to join the Comics,¡± Hunter said. He¡¯d had a lot of time to consider how this conversation would go, and what he¡¯d need in order to shape the future in the direction he wanted it to go, and how to sell that vision to a man who didn¡¯t need anything from him.

    But so far, Trey had defied Hunter¡¯s expectations. Hunter felt like his expectations were constantly off the mark over the last few days, but that was a problem for another time.

    ¡°I think I did pretty well in the competition. Well enough to prove that I¡¯d be an asset,¡± he said, not quite sure how to word what he was thinking. He wanted find a way to leverage his potential for an optimal contract. That had been his goal with this meeting, more so than finding answers.

    He took another moment to consider what he¡¯d learned during this conversation, and what it meant. As far as he¡¯d been concerned, his father was innocent. He didn¡¯t care about what Trey¡¯s investigation turned up, as far as he knew, that was still the case. An absence of evidence is not evidence of an absence. Just because a conspiracy couldn¡¯t be seen, doesn¡¯t mean it wasn¡¯t there. Trey¡¯s answer about why he¡¯d kept him in the dark for all the years he¡¯d lived in Seckina felt a bit anticlimactic, but seemed pretty reasonable. He understood where Trey was coming from, and Hunter took it for what it was:

    A peace offering, a sign of vulnerability. He¡¯d built up Trey to be a very intimidating figure, a Council Seat who manipulated a thousand strings a day, carefully controlling the fate of his corporation''s domain, and the fates of all of those who lived their lives within it. And maybe that was still true. However, the fact that Hunter had been left alone all those years because Trey had felt, what, awkward about the situation? It felt so shallow compared to what he¡¯d expected. On one hand, it turned out that Trey was just a human being after all. On the other hand, he was willing to be honest about that, and was now apologizing for it.

    He didn¡¯t like the fact that he wanted to trust Trey Oberon. He wanted to be able to see him as nothing more than a means to an end, a tool of his own ambition.

    In a way, he almost wished that Trey would see him the same way. It would have been so much easier. Now, he had to sit here and consider the fact that maybe there was a chance that Trey wasn¡¯t a cold, calculating monarch. Maybe Mrs. Verilion was right about Trey being different from the rest of the Council Seats.

    Hunter considered Trey¡¯s question.

    What did he want? The answer was simple¡ª he hadn¡¯t been planning on revealing his endgame, but why not? Since Trey had been so open with Hunter, maybe he could expedite the process for Hunter.

    ¡°I want to leave Sanctuary,¡± he said.

    ¡°Outworld?¡± Trey exlaimed, his eyes wide, ¡°Huh. That¡¯s not what I was expecting.¡±

    Trey rubbed his chin as he thought. Hunter took that as a good sign, he wasn¡¯t rejecting the prospect outright.

    ¡°Do you know what it takes to get a spot on a ship?¡± Trey asked. Hunter shook his head. Trey seemed to have a thought, one that pleased him. He smiled.

    ¡°It takes accreditation. It takes a high level of accreditation for a company to assume liability for your presence on their ships. Ships are expensive, as is operating them. Letting anyone aboard a ship means taking a risk¡ª it means making an investment¡± Trey said.

    Hunter nodded, slightly deflating. So he probably wasn¡¯t going to have his wish granted all at once. However¡­

    ¡°I¡¯m not hearing ¡®no¡¯,¡± Hunter said, still hopeful. Trey laughed.

    ¡°No, you¡¯re definitely not. Look, the reason why I mentioned the attention you got during the competition wasn¡¯t to make you feel like you owe me something¡ª it¡¯s so that you understand the position that you and I are in. I feel we might be able to make a compromise.¡±

    He had hunters full attention.

    ¡°Placing 5th during the Youth Artisan competition isn¡¯t a big deal, but doing it alone with an AR of 5 is a big deal. I¡¯m sure that¡¯s not lost on you, correct?¡± Trey asked.

    Hunter nodded, and Trey smiled.

    ¡°Of course not. Joyce was right to give you a chance. I gave her a promotion, by the way, so her bet paid off,¡± Trey said. ¡°You¡¯re a smart kid, you¡¯ve got to be smart to pull off the kind of performance you made. I had some of my people analyze and explain to me your submissions and your results. You impressed a lot of very capable artisans, Hunter. Apparently, the crisscross channels you used on the batteries are something revolutionary. Some of your design choices, and these aren¡¯t my words, ¡®shouldn¡¯t work as well as they do, yet somehow they do.¡¯¡±

    Hunter felt like he¡¯d heard similar words before, in a similar meeting, where it felt like his fate was being decided by forces outside of his control.

    Trey crossed his hands and placed them on his desk, smiling at Hunter.

    ¡°You, young man, present an incredible opportunity that I, as a very successful businessman, would be incredibly irresponsible¡ª nay, completely derelict in my duties as a leader of the Oberon Enterprises¡¯ domain¡ª to let slip by. An opportunity, might I add, that is made necessary by your choice to announce your identity to the world.¡±

    Hunter asked the obvious question.

    ¡°What kind of opportunity?¡±

    ¡°The opportunity to foster and protect an incredible young talent. And that¡¯s just from my point of view as a businessman. As your father was one of my oldest friends, and as I feel that I owe you a debt, it is my personal duty, and honor, to offer the possibility of extending the Oberon name to you. I know, it¡¯s a big deal, but there is a pragmatic element to it,¡± Trey said, studying Hunter¡¯s reaction, ¡°you do know what I''m offering you, right?¡±

    Hunter¡¯s confusion must have shown on his face.

    ¡°I''m offering to extend to you not only the benefit of the protection that comes from joining this corporation, but the protection and privileges that comes being a part of the family that owns the corporation.¡±

 Chapter 18

    ¡°What?¡± He asked, as it was the only word, the only thought in his mind, apart from, ¡°Why?¡±

    His mind started to catch up with the conversation. Trey said it was to grant both protection, and privilege. He¡¯d said that he felt he owed Hunter a debt. But was it really this big of a debt? Did Hunter even want this?

    ¡°As I said, there is a pragmatic element to it. In fact, there¡¯s a few. One, the truth is that if it weren¡¯t for the Council¡¯s interest in you, I¡¯d have offered this from the very start. But my position can sometimes make the most simple solutions into the most dangerous and impractical. The best move at the moment was to keep you out of sight, and out of mind. Now that you¡¯ve proven yourself as a remarkable potential asset, the corporation would be justified in bringing you on board. And it would allow me to extend the second part of my offer, which ultimately aligns with your goal.¡±

    Hunter was practically on the edge of his seat.

    ¡°The grand prize of the competition was the Oberon Corporations¡¯ official sponsorship to Barnum Academy of Excellence. Corporations get a few sponsorship options each year. The more powerful the corporation, the more sponsorship spots they earn. How much do you understand about the Barnum Academy of Excellence?¡±

    ¡°Not a lot,¡± Hunter said, ¡°I know it¡¯s supposed to be one of the best schools in the world.¡±

    Trey nodded in a way that indicated that Hunter was on the right track.

    ¡°It might be the best school in the world¡ª if not in quality of education, than in sheer prestige. Most of the previous Council Seats have graduated from, or have a board stacked full of Barnum alumna. Barnum has a grading system similar to other schools, but they award degrees of Excellence for those who distinguish themselves during their studies. These degrees typically mean a mark of prestige for whichever corporation or family has sponsored the recipient. The amount of Excellence recipients a corporation has is typically an indicator of not only their current status, but their future potential¡ª which is more than a shallow measure, I assure you.¡±

    He paused to take another sip of coffee. Hunter followed suit¡ª not that he needed it anymore. This whole conversation had been an emotional rollercoaster, and instead of exhaustion, he was feeling electrified.

    ¡°Every corporation, every council member since the council¡¯s inception, has been locked in a perennial series of pissing contests. The measure of Excellence is one way of gauging how we compare to our rivals, and there is always another. An emerging market or a new twist on an old one, greater feats of engineering, establishing more outworld outposts, the list goes on. In the last few generations, Oberon Enterprises has had to change itself in order to adapt to the new world, in order to ensure that our stream lands further than all the rest.

    ¡°My father, much to my grandfather¡¯s dismay, found the most success in the corporations¡¯ security department. Military life suited him, and when it was his turn to inherit the position at the head of the company, he changed the company structure from one with more of a board-like governance to one where he had sole decision-making power. He believed that a board and a man can make similar decisions given the same intelligence resources. What mattered most were the people who executed those decisions,¡± Trey said, the topic seeming to fill him with passion.

    ¡°What matters most is a shared vision, and a willingness to not just follow, but execute orders to the best of one¡¯s ability. To that end, the threat of consequences of breeching their contract isn¡¯t enough to keep an employee loyal. The only way to not only survive, but thrive in this new world of exploration, of freedom, of options, was to make yourself the greatest possible alternative to both current and future employees, and to the family''s¡¯ that raised them. That meant you needed to provide security, vision, and a means to achieve that vision. They need to believe in me, and the company as an extension.¡±

    Hunter understood.

    ¡°And filling your ranks with Excellence recipients is a mark of honor for you, but another degree of security and certainty that the company has a future,¡± Hunter said.

    ¡°Not just the company, but themselves as well,¡± Trey corrected. Hunter nodded.

    ¡°Personal security,¡± he said.

    ¡°Exactly,¡± Trey said, ¡°so a company needs to spend their sponsorship slots wisely. That¡¯s why we offered the winning team the opportunity to enroll at Barnum. It would mean a much brighter future for themselves, and they would each have a chance of earning Excellence for the corporation. Pending their acceptance, all of the corporations¡¯ sponsorship slots will be fulfilled.¡±

    He paused for a few seconds, and Hunter assumed it was purely for dramatic effect.

    ¡°However, it¡¯s not just the corporations who are offered sponsorship slots,¡± he said.

    ¡°Right,¡± Hunter said, the implication dawning on him, ¡°you said both corporations and family''s¡¯ are given sponsorship slots.¡±

    Trey nodded.

    ¡°How many sponsorship slots can a family be offered?¡± Hunter asked, knowing where this conversation was going, and hardly believing it.

    ¡°Family¡¯s only get one per year,¡± Trey said.

    ¡°Hold on,¡± Hunter said, ¡°What about your daughter? Isn¡¯t she some sort of prodigy? Why wouldn¡¯t you offer it to her?¡±

    Trey nodded, a proud smile on his face.

    ¡°Indeed, she is a prodigy, in a sense. Her AR has just passed the mid 40¡¯s. She¡¯s proven to be quite adept with martial arts, and her academic performance has been phenomenal.¡±

    Hunter whistled.

    If he was remembering correctly, she¡¯d be around his age give or take a year. Hunter was 16 this year. Even those who are considered gifted would only approach 40 AR in mid 20¡¯s.

    ¡°Exactly,¡± Trey said, amused by Hunters response, ¡°Barnum extended her an invitation personally, so the Oberon family¡¯s sponsorship slot is still available. We can¡¯t give it to just anyone, they have to be a member of the Oberon family.¡±

    ¡°And so you want me to go,¡± Hunter said.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Trey said, ¡°I would be honored to have you alongside my daughter under the banner of the Oberon family. Oh,¡± Trey said, his smile growing even wider, ¡°and that¡¯s not all.¡±

    He took another sip of his coffee.

    ¡°If you perform well, I will fully fund and supply your own personal workshop and lab. You will officially be employed by the company, but will have very minor obligations to it. If you perform so well as to earn a degree of Excellence, I will ensure that you are selected for outworld-training, and given a spot on the ship or outworld destination of your choice¡ª if you still desire it. How does that sound?¡±

    Hunter hands shook. He had to fight himself from accepting the offer immediately-- as a hint of reasons gave space for him to consider his original intention. He was not about to be dragged into a situation where his work was taken advantage of without any benefit to himself.

    ¡°What about the results of my research, and things that I invent?¡± Hunter asked. Trey nodded.

    ¡°Reasonable concerns, of course. As I said, you will have some small obligation to the company. What would be the use of having such a mind as yours if we didn¡¯t make full use of it? You will have access to any research project that you find interesting¡ª but the results of those specific projects will be owned by the company. However, anything you develop personally outside of those obligations will of course be yours to do with as you wish. I only ask that if you ever decide to share your private work with the public, that you¡¯ll consider the family and the company first. We would be willing to offer you a more generous deal than you¡¯d get anywhere else, guaranteed.¡±

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Hunter nodded. He could accept that, in fact, the whole thing seemed to work in his favor. It was almost too good to be true.

    In fact, despite all the reasons he¡¯d been given to take Trey at his word, he needed to face the facts.

    Yes, Trey was a business man. And he was probably counting on Hunters good will. But he was also being transparent about it.

    He¡¯d guaranteed that Hunter would have all the privacy he wanted¡ª if he had any secrets to share, he wouldn¡¯t be obligated to share them and had the promise of a generous deal if he ever did decide to share what he knew.

    But what was to hold Trey to his end of the deal? Even as he considered the question, Hunter wondered if he was being fair to the man.

    He decided to take another risk. So far, they¡¯d been paying off in their own roundabout ways. Attaching the Oberon name to his own was to everyone¡¯s benefit. He¡¯d be tying his fate to Oberon Enterprises, but he was being given a tremendous amount of freedom. It was a better deal than he¡¯d expected.

    To twist Trey¡¯s own phrase, he would be remiss in his duties to himself if he let this opportunity pass him by. It was the perfect solution to his problems, as far as he could see. And if it wasn¡¯t perfect, it was as close as he would get.

    ¡°Deal,¡± hunter said, holding out his hand. With a big grin, Trey took the hand and shook it.

    ¡°Excellent! Welcome to the family,¡± Trey said, ¡°You won¡¯t regret it.¡±

    <hr>

    Hunter Oberon Koar.

    He¡¯d never had a middle name before, and was grateful that he had the option of placing his new name before his old one.

    He was still, and always will be, Hunter Koar. At first he thought that maybe the Koar name should come first, but keeping his first and last name the same felt more appropriate to him. Trey readily agreed, so long as he was officially carrying the Oberon name, it didn¡¯t matter where it was placed.

    The official paperwork which proved his inclusion into the family had been signed and submitted immediately. Usually, the process might take a few days for the corporate machine to process such a registration, but a council seat didn¡¯t have to wait for approval. By the time Barry had dropped him and his new bodyguard off at the hotel, he received a call from Mrs. Verilion stating that the paperwork had officially been filed.

    It was done.

    He was officially attached to one of the most powerful families in the world¡ª officially an heir to the Oberon fortune.

    What an insane thought, Hunter mused. This wasn¡¯t even close to what he¡¯d expected when he¡¯d first signed up for the preliminary test in Seckina. He¡¯d wondered for a moment if this could be considered a betrayal to himself, or his father. But he reasoned that it wasn¡¯t. This was purely business-- a mutual scratching of backs. Being an Oberon was a means to an end.

    He didn¡¯t owe them anything beyond the potential to enrich their company with his work, the price of which was enrollment in a prestigious academy, ascendance to the highest rungs of the social ladder, and a future where the sky wasn¡¯t even the limit.

    It was an incredible deal.

    He¡¯d returned to the hotel suite to gather his belongings, humming to himself. He¡¯d been assigned a bodyguard, which was something Hunter wasn¡¯t sure how to feel about. The constant presence felt simultaneously reassuring and constricting. He hadn¡¯t realized how much he enjoyed his privacy now that he had to sacrifice it for the sake of safety.

    It was still slowly dawning on him, just what becoming an Oberon meant.

    He almost regretted accepting Trey¡¯s offer, because he knew that soon he would be the center of more attention that he¡¯d ever wanted. He¡¯d had a certain level of visibility when he was younger, before his father died¡ª the infamous Gideon Koar was practically a household name. So he knew what to expect.

    But the difference between the kind of attention Gideon Koar and his son received, and the family of a Council Seat and domain monarch, was night and day from what Hunter could recall¡ª from seeing all the news broadcasts about Trey and his daughter, Aera.

    Hunter had a sister now. He wondered what she was like. The best case scenario was that she had inherited Trey¡¯s more personable qualities. The worst case scenario was that she was a typical, rich brat who cared about nothing more than what you could do for her, specifically her image and personal ambitions. In which case, he would find every excuse to ignore her and get on with his life. He hoped that they¡¯d get a long, she would be an invaluable ally at Barnum if he was right about the kind of people he¡¯d been attending the academy with. He hoped that having the Oberon name attached to his own would go a long way in warding off the negative attention he¡¯d grown used to from the silver-spoon-fed.

    Hunter would be moving into the Oberon mansion until the term at Barnum started in a couple of weeks. He¡¯d requested to have a workbench installed in his room, but he was swiftly informed that he didn¡¯t need anyone¡¯s permission. He¡¯d been introduced to an elderly gentleman named Stewart, who was in charge of the Oberon mansion staff. Hunter could inform Stewart about anything he would need at the house, and it would be Stewarts job to ensure that Hunter received it.

    So he informed Stewart that he would need the workbench, and a steady supply of etherium batteries as well as easy access to a battery charger. Hunter almost expected Stewart to wince and protest at some point, but he man simply nodded and told Hunter to give him a few days to prepare everything and have the necessary renovations made. In the meantime, Hunter would stay in a guest-room. As Hunter was packing his things back at the hotel, he realized that he¡¯d never had a chance to visit the museum. Instead of regretting it, he decided to exercise some of his newfound freedom and informed his new bodyguard of their pending trip.

    The bodyguards name was Syler, ¡®but my friends¡¯ call me Sly,¡¯ he¡¯d said. Although Hunter was uncertain about how to feel about having a bodyguard around, he already like Sly on a personal level. Sly was bald, and appeared to be in his late 20¡¯s or early thirties. He was clean shaven and had grey eyes. He didn¡¯t smile much, but Hunter gathered it wasn¡¯t personal. Even if his job was to guard the door of Hunter''s hotel suite, Sly had a focus that Hunter admired. The man was clearly sharp, and took his job seriously.

    Sly only nodded when Hunter told him they were going to visit the museum, and he brought Hunter down the to car that had been assigned to them. It wasn¡¯t anything as impressive as a Kellese, but Hunter savored the idea of having not only a personal car, but a personal driver. They could have walked, as it wasn¡¯t too far away, but Sly told him that driving was not only faster, but far safer. Although he would have a degree of anonymity for the next few days, soon the Oberon family would announce their newest member. He wanted Hunter to get used to doing things a bit differently than normal.

    Hunter had noticed an increase in the amount of law enforcement agents walking the streets, not just outside of the hotel, but by the museum as well. He¡¯d asked Sly if he¡¯d told anyone they were going to the museum, but Sly shook his head. Hunter noticed police cars every few blocks.

    Why was he seeing so many today?

    ¡°It was the attack a few days ago,¡± Sly said after making a call to ¡®a friend¡¯. His voice had a raspy quality-- an undercurrent of smoke to it, as if he was forcing each word out. ¡°Abolitionists set off a car bomb, and claimed that the Council Capitals will no longer be safe, yada yada. If they ever attacked anything but targets of opportunity in the most under-guarded territories, maybe we''d have something to worry about. The increased law enforcement is there for the public''s sake, if you ask me.¡±

    ¡°Was anyone hurt?¡± Hunter asked. Sly nodded.

    ¡°A few dead, a few wounded, and most of them were the abolitionists themselves. These terrorists have shown only a mild concern for their own lives, if there is going to be another attack, the best case scenario is that the damage is contained.¡±

    They way that Sly said damage was so casual, as if it didn¡¯t imply that innocent lives were at ay risk. He suddenly wondered if visiting the museum was the right choice.

    ¡°Should we go back to the hotel?¡± Hunter asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s your call, boss.¡±

    Hunter considered the problem. He still wanted to visit the museum, just to see it one more time. Barnum was practically a whole continent away, it would be a while before he¡¯d be able to come back here. He decided he¡¯d compromise.

    The abolitionists probably wouldn¡¯t attack twice in the same day, especially after annoucning their threat. They would need time to make sure their next attack was successful, right? He figured that the museum would be safe, especially with the increased law enforcement presence.

    ¡°I think I''d still like to check the museum out. Just for a little while.¡±

    Sly nodded. If he disapproved of Hunters choice, he didn¡¯t show it.

    Hunter felt that this visit to the museum was important. Seeing his father and Trey holding their necklaces in that photograph, it birthed a strong desire to try and see the ancient past the same way his father had seen it. He¡¯d never really taken a strong interest in ancient history¡ª etherium was more than interesting enough, but the way Trey had spoken about the meaning of the necklaces had intrigued Hunter.

    Power, a glimpse beneath the surface. That was his relationship with etherium, wasn¡¯t it? To see it in a way no one else did, to feel it at a level which, as he could tell, was unique to himself. They called him a genius-- but he wasn''t smarter than anyone else was, he just had a way of feeling into something that others couldn''t.

    Why? Why him? It was a question that didn¡¯t seem to have an answer.

    Self knowledge. Truth. Hunter wondered if the Asutnahem knew something that he hadn¡¯t. Maybe his father¡¯s interest in the ancient people¡¯s hadn¡¯t just been academic.

    Maybe Hunter wouldn''t just find a deeper connection with his departed father, but with himself as well-- and one thought which excited him above all else was the chance of discovering a way around his deficiency.

 Chapter 19

    They arrived at the museum, a small complex of buildings devoted to specific eras and themes. Sly guided him through the front entrance of the main building and talked to the staff at the front desk. Apparently the Asutnahem relics were displayed at the Archaeological section near the center of the museum¡¯s complex.

    ¡°I only need 15 minutes,¡± Hunter said. Sly nodded and triggered his wrist watch.

    ¡°15 minutes,¡± his bodyguard agreed.

    Hunter recognized the building. Although he¡¯d forgotten how the museum was laid out, he remembered his father bringing him here so many years ago. The entrance of the building was flanked by two giant mythological creatures carved out of stone. They had the bodies of men but with lions¡¯ heads. They held spears in one hand, and the other hand was held over their chest. Hunter read the information on the small stand just beside one of the statues.

    Little is known about these figures, but they are presumed to be an idealized form of a warrior. The marking on the back of the hand covering their chest means ¡®peace,¡¯ while the other hand wielding the spear is believed to symbolize the balance of peace and a forceful defense.

    Hunter observed the rest of small building. It was a showroom, maybe 1000 square feet. The biggest displays were around the walls, so Hunter decided to start there. He didn¡¯t have much time to explore everything.

    He walked right up to one of the displays he remembered the most. A painting of a man attempting to pull up a net which stretched down to the ocean¡¯s depths, having captured great, terrifying creatures. He stood on a small sailing boat, and Hunter recognized the symbol on the boat¡¯s mast, it was the same as Trey¡¯s necklace.

    Glimpsing beneath the surface.

    "Or self knowledge, depending on who you asked," he muttered. He read the description of the display.

    This is the 2nd painting in a series of 4. Like most Asutnahem relics, scholars are unsure of their exact age, or how the ancient Asutnahem had managed to keep them preserved for such a long time. It is believed that the painting is meant to illustrate the pursuit of wisdom, and the folly of the human mind. The figure is featured in all 4 paintings, and scholars have dubbed him The Journeyer.

    Hunter observed the next display.

    The 3rd painting in a series of 4, detailing The Journeyer''s tale. Here, it is assumed that his time at sea has left him stranded. Behind him is a resplendent kingdom, whose gates are closed, and whose guardians stand with their spears ready, they look at The Journeyer with hostility. He stands upon the shore, observing his distorted reflection on the ocean¡¯s surface. His reflection is wearing a crown and covering one of its eyes, but the Journeyer''s remain clear, and his face is calm, unconcerned with the hostile men behind him.

    Hunter studied the figure of The Journeyer. The design on his shirt seemed familiar, and after a minute, he realized that it almost looked like the Link sub-glyph.

    Very interesting, Hunter thought to himself. He was starting to see why his father might have developed such an obsession about these paintings, and the people who created them. In the sky, high above The Journeyer and the kingdom was the symbol that he¡¯d noticed on the hands of the lion-men at the entrance, the one that stood for peace. Hunter wondered what it all meant, unfortunately, he didn¡¯t really have the time to figure it all out. The time limit he¡¯d set for himself felt like it was the practical thing to do¡ª it eased his mind and Syl''s. But he¡¯d be lying if he said he didn¡¯t wish he could stand here for a while, and contemplate.

    Maybe this is what his dad had felt, all those years ago. Hunter felt that the paintings held a wonderful depth¡ª meanings that could unfold and synergize the same way etherium could. He felt the same pull to understand and investigate that he did when he was creating constructs, and feeling the pulsing songs of etherium. He closed his eyes and considered the feeling.

    What he was feeling wasn¡¯t emotional. It wasn¡¯t just curiosity, there was something else. He couldn¡¯t place it, but the feeling was something deeper.

    ¡°6 minutes,¡± Sly said. Hunter opened his eyes and moved on.

    The display informed him about the final painting of the series, yet there was one more painting next to it.

    Although this is considered the 4th and final chapter of The Journeyer''s tale, the paintings have been displayed the way they were found. The next painting is believed to be the first in the series, but scholars believe it was placed at the end for the sake of poetry; reminiscent of the hero¡¯s journey, and returning home. In this final chapter, the Journeyer is depicted at having reached a phase of ascension, symbolized by being clothed in light. He holds out his hands, and projects a symbol that has yet to be translated, but in the theme of the story, it is assumed to mean ¡°completion.¡± The kingdom which had once viewed him with hostility now follows him, head bowed in respect as they study his footsteps in the sand.

    With only a few minutes left, Hunter observed the first painting, that he supposed was meant to both start, and end the tale of The Journeyer. It shows him as a child, his hair is the same, his eyes are the same color, and he wears the same sandals that he had as an adult. He stands upon a precipice, leading into dark and unknown depths. A woman stands across from him, across a great chasm, and holds out her hand, inviting him to cross. Hunter then notices that The Journeyer is holding a hammer, and some nails, and there are wooden boards and a rope beside him.

    Was he going to build a bridge across the gap?

    Behind The Journeyer is a raging inferno, within which was painted a symbol. He hadn¡¯t seen it before¡ª unsurprising given his lack of interest in the Asutnahem until now. Hunter read the paintings¡¯ description.

    Scholars believe that this is a tale of heroism, and the flame is believed to represent a force that pushes the hero to accepting the call of his destiny, symbolized by the woman inviting him from across the chasm. If the hero refuses the call, the flame will take him. But by accepting the call, he risks falling into dark uncertain depths. The symbol in the flame has had many names over the years, but scholars almost unanimously believe that it means revelation.

    Hunter felt like he could relate to the Journeyer. He saw Sly glance at his watch, but just before he could say anything, a few loud pops echoed from outside. A high pitched siren sounded throughout the museum¡¯s campus. It hurt Hunters ears, and before he could ask what was going on, Sly grabbed Hunter and reached under his own jacket, pulling out a firearm.

    ¡°Those were gunshots,¡± Sly said. The words felt like they sapped the warmth out of Hunter. He didn¡¯t know what to say.

    ¡°What do we do?¡± Hunter asked.

    Why would their be an attack the museum? Why would they do it today, of all days?

    Trey led Hunter to the back exit of the building, which had a large warning written in red, informing them that using the door would activate an alarm. Sly opened the door, keeping his gun slightly covered by his jacket. Hunter couldn¡¯t see past him, but Sly cursed and shut the door. He pulled Hunter with him towards the front door of the Archaeological building, and looked both ways.

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Sly said, once more dragging Hunter towards the main building. Hunter hadn¡¯t been sure which direction he¡¯d heard the gunshots coming from. How did Sly know they weren¡¯t walking right towards the attackers?

    Hunter felt every single absent point of his AR. If only he weren¡¯t so physically weak, maybe he¡¯d feel more confident defending himself. But what would he use? He didn¡¯t have a gun, so would he fight off his armed attackers with a stick?

    What he would be able to do is build constructs that could help him. Stronger, more complex constructs than he¡¯d ever been able to build before.

    Sly yanked him out of his train of thought. Hunter let out an involuntary grunt. Sly glanced at him and whispered an apology.

    ¡°I saw some masked men with guns in the next building over. I¡¯m hoping they¡¯re all contained to the south of the campus, but we¡¯ll need to be careful and quiet until we¡¯re back in the car. Just follow me, do what I say, and we¡¯ll fine. Okay?¡± Sly asked. Hunter nodded.

    What else was he supposed to do? He¡¯d have to trust Sly to do his job.

    The sliding door to the main museum building revealed a corridor that stretched to the left and right. The alarm had been shut off, and Hunter wondered if that was good news, but a shout and another gunshot snuffed the small ember of hope before it could take hold.

    ¡°This way,¡± Sly guided him to the left, away from the gunshot, ¡°stay behind me, if we cross an intersecting hallway, you¡¯re going to use me as your cover as we pass, but I need you to keep up, got it? We need to keep moving.¡±

    Hunter nodded again.

    They crossed a few hallways, Sly literally guarding Hunters body with his own. Hunter was starting to feel confident that they¡¯d make it out of the museum without incident. They studied one of the museums layout maps, with a small circle that said you are here, and it showed that the museum¡¯s entrance was nearby. Sly figured that taking the front entrance would be a bad idea, and they plotted a route to one of the building¡¯s employee exits.

    They were about to cross another hallway when they were spotted.

    ¡°You! Stay right there!¡± someone yelled as they were passing another hallway intersection. Hunter froze, and Sly cursed, standing between Hunter and the man who¡¯d called to them. Hunter could barely see him past Sly¡¯s bulk. The man wore a facemask, and was aiming a rifle at them as he walked towards them.

    ¡°Get on your fucking knees, don¡¯t move a muscle. Drop the gun and push it away from you.¡±

    Hunter had a sudden flashback to his last interaction with the Comics, and he bit his tongue, following Sly¡¯s lead and got to his knees.

    ¡°Put your hands up, do not move. I will kill you,¡± the man said as he got closer. Hunter and Sly both raised their hands after Sly put his gun on the ground.

    ¡°What do we do?¡± Hunter whispered.

    ¡°Just do as he says,¡± Sly said, his voice low, ¡°If you see me move, lay on the ground. Be as still as possible until I say otherwise.¡±

    ¡°Shut the fuck up, I won¡¯t warn you again,¡± the man said. Hunter felt that everything was out of control. The man was out of his mind¡ª what if he decided to shoot them anyways? There was nothing that Hunter would be able to do about it. He would have trouble surviving a well-placed punch.

    A gunshot wound? There¡¯s no way he¡¯d be able to survive.

    The man was just a few feet in front of them now. Someone else yelled down the hallway. Another armed man, but his gun was hanging off his strap. He had one hand in his pocket, and the other on a mobile phone. As soon as the man closest to them turned to see what his friend wanted, Sly moved.

    He used one hand to push the gun towards the ceiling as he tackled the man to the ground. He punched the man¡¯s face and the plastic mask he wore broke. He tore the gun from the man¡¯s grasp, aimed it at the second man who had only just started to respond to the attack by reaching for his weapon, and fired three times.

    Hunter had remembered a moment from when he was a child, when one of his friends threw a ball at him. It had hit him just below his chest, and he remembered the sound of all the air leaving his lungs, and the gasping sound he made as he struggled to inhale. The man made the same sound after the first shot, and then he started to gurgle as the second shot tore through his throat. The third shot seemed to hit one of his hands holding the rifle, and he dropped it as his body collapsed.

    Sly hit the man he¡¯d just tackled with the butt of the rifle. While the man was stunned, Sly stood and shot the man in the head. Hunter couldn''t take his eyes off of the two dead men. He had never seen someone die before, was he supposed to be feeling regret or guilt? Maybe disgust?

    All he felt was relief. He was glad it was them, and not him.

    He looked at Hunter with disapproval on his face. He picked up his own gun and placed it back in its holster under his jacket.

    ¡°I thought I told you to get as low as possible,¡± he said, pulling Hunter off of his knees and aiming the rifle back down the hallway, ¡°Come on, we need to get out of here.¡±

    They made their way down another hallway, shouting voices echoing behind them. The turned down another hallway, and saw people running into a room. They spotted Hunter and Sly and seemed afraid when they saw Sly¡¯s rifle.

    ¡°We¡¯re the good guys,¡± Hunter said, raising his hands.

    Sly tsked and raised his hands as well, but didn¡¯t drop the gun.

    The shouting was getting closer. They could hear footsteps among the echoing voices.

    ¡°We don''t have time for this. You guys stay quiet.¡± Sly said, pointing at the people who still didn¡¯t quite know what to make of Hunter and the bodyguard. Sly started to pull hunter along, but Hunter wondered if that was the best decision.

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we stay with them?¡± Hunter asked as Sly dragged him further down the corridor, constantly checking behind them, looking left and right, assessing the optimal route.

    Sly shook his head.

    ¡°They¡¯re like fish in a barrel,¡± he said, ¡°and most of them will be too stressed to see that. the last thing you want to be caught in is a crowd, especially when the enemy doesn¡¯t seem to have inhibitions.¡±

    ¡°So, where do we go?¡± Hunter asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s what i¡¯m trying to figure out. I still think our best bet is one of the employee exits. We should be close to one now.¡±

    They heard more gunshots behind them, and frightened screams.

    ¡°They¡¯ll be delayed while they deal everyone. We need to get more distance between us and them,¡± Sly said, walking faster, his hand holding Hunter shirt in a death grip. Hunter did his best to keep up, but couldn¡¯t help but feel like he was being dragged.

    Eventually they found one of the employee exits. Unfortunately, it was being guarded by more masked men. They decided to trace their way back down a hallway, and take another route. Hoping that there might be one more exit along the side of the building they were on.

    They turned another hallway, and one of the signs at the corner said that they were close to the museum¡¯s entrance.

    ¡°Should we risk it?¡± Hunter asked. Sly shook his head.

    ¡°Its too risky. I¡¯d rather find a room to barricade ourselves in and wait this out. I guarantee law enforcement will have the museum surrounded by now. They might even have a ship overhead.¡±

    ¡°Why haven¡¯t they stormed the place?¡± Hunter asked.

    ¡°They¡¯ll want to assess the threat level to make sure that innocent people aren¡¯t going to be caught in the crossfire, which is exactly what the terrorists are hoping for. They¡¯ll try and negotiate their way out of here, using hostages as leverage.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you say that they don¡¯t care much about losing their lives?¡±

    Sly shrugged.

    ¡°It does appear that way, but human minds can shift direction very quickly, and often without you even realizing it. Most of them might believe they¡¯re willing to die for their cause, but when it comes down to it, survival instinct is a hell of a thing.¡±

    Maybe he was right, Hunter thought. Maybe they¡¯ll be taking hostages.

    ¡°The people we left behind,¡± Hunter said, starting to think out loud, but Sly interrupted him.

    ¡°Right, hopefully most of them will be safe. At least for the time being.¡±

    ¡°Where can we hide, though?¡±

    ¡°Nowhere,¡± a voice said from behind them, ¡°drop the gun, and get your your knees. Hands behind your heads.¡±

    Hunter felt himself constrict. The room suddenly felt hot and he was having trouble breathing, he realized he was panicking but he focused on doing what he was told. Sly had closed his eyes and sighed, dropping the gun and getting on his knees.

    It was a woman who had spoken to them.

    ¡°Now, my men are going to pat you both down. You¡¯re not going to make any sudden movements. There are many more of us here and only two of you. My guys are also ready to lay down their lives at a moments notice, catch my drift?¡±

    Hunter nodded. His mouth was dry and his tongue felt 3 sizes too big. He didn¡¯t trust himself to speak.

    Two men came and patted them both down. They were rough, and Hunter felt his shoulder start to slide out of its socket for a second as they lifted him up. He winced, and knew that he was also going to have a few more bruises forming around his body in a few minutes.

    They took Sly¡¯s handgun out from under his jacket. The woman huffed when she saw it.

    ¡°Armed in Oberon territory. What are you, law enforcement?¡± the woman asked.

    ¡°Something like that,¡± Sly said, ¡°you should let us go if you don¡¯t want trouble with the guys outside.¡±

    She laughed.

 Chapter 20

    ¡°Bring them to the others,¡± she ordered. The men lifted Sly off the ground and shoved them both forward. They were escorted to a room full of displays near the middle of the building. There were a couple dozen people present, familys¡¯ and staff from the museum, all scattered around the room.

    ¡°In,¡± one of them said. They complied and found a space to sit together on the far side of the room.

    Whenever any of the people in the room spoke too loud, they were threatened. Another man was taken out when he refused to heed their warning. His child was crying after them, the mother tried desperately to calm the child down. They took the man around the corner, and there was a gunshot. The guards returned, but the man didn¡¯t.

    Hunters hands shook and he couldn¡¯t seem to get enough air into his lungs. Sly was looking around the room. He didn¡¯t seem afraid, just focused.

    ¡°Deep breaths, Hunter,¡± Sly whispered, ¡°You¡¯re going to get out of this. Alright?¡±

    Hunter nodded, taking deep breaths until he felt his racing heartbeat start to slow.

    ¡°What makes you so certain?¡± Another one of the hostages asked, close enough for them to hear.

    Sly frowned, and twitched his head, beckoning for the guy to come closer.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got a plan,¡± Sly said, then he hesitated, ¡°Sort of.¡±

    ¡°A plan?¡± the other man scoffed, ¡°what, do you think we should just rush them all at once¡±

    Sly shook his head. Some of the others were beginning to notice their exchange.

    ¡°Keep your voice down. No, that¡¯s not my plan. I¡¯ve escaped situations like this before, and against much more capable foes. Compared to them, these guys are amateurs. Look around the room, what do you see?¡±

    Hunter and the man scanned the room. Hunter did notice something, but he wasn¡¯t sure if that¡¯s what Sly was referring to.

    ¡°I see Force constructs,¡± Hunter said. Sly glanced at him, widening his eyes, then he nodded.

    ¡°That¡¯s not what I was referring to, but now that you mention it, you¡¯re right. Good thinking Hunter. What else do you notice?¡±

    ¡°The guards are avoiding spending too much time in here,¡± the man said.

    Sly nodded.

    ¡°And the point I''m making is related to that. Why aren¡¯t they spending much time inside the room?¡±

    The answer seemed obvious to Hunter. He remembered the woman¡¯s words as she ordered they be brought to this room.

    He¡¯d never gotten a look at her, but he¡¯d bet money that she was the boss.

    ¡°There¡¯s more of us then there are of them,¡± Hunter said, ¡°Hypothetically, if we did rush them all at once, we¡¯d be able to take their weapons. That would be two down, and they wouldn¡¯t be able to afford many more losses. Right? You said it yourself, law enforcement probably has this building surrounded,¡± as Hunter spoke, he got more excited.

    For a moment, it felt like the terrorists were an unstoppable force¡ª a monster without flaw. But Sly had been thinking along another line altogether this whole time. What else was he seeing that Hunter wasn¡¯t? He was suddenly fascinated by this new bodyguard. He said he¡¯d been in situations like this before, but when?

    ¡°Keep your voice down,¡± Sly reminded Hunter. The guards were looking inside the room now.

    They waited in silence until it was safe to speak again.

    ¡°At the very least, we can assume that there¡¯s enough of us that we count as a potential threat. They¡¯re not just threatening our lives, they¡¯re protecting their own. As long as they think we¡¯re too scared to act, they won¡¯t be too afraid of us. Which means they¡¯ll need to continually establish their dominance.¡±

    Hunter did his best to avoid looking at the woman who¡¯d just lost her husband, and the child who had just lost their father.

    ¡°So what¡¯s your plan?¡± the man asked.

    ¡°Well, the original plan was going to be to cause a distraction, enough of one so that they have to leave a few exits with far less protection than they would hope. That would leave an opening for everyone else to run for it.¡±

    ¡°What kind of distraction? And how would we do it? We¡¯re all trapped in here, and they have all the guns.¡±

    Sly looked at Hunter.

    ¡°That¡¯s where you come in Hunter. You¡¯re supposed to be a wiz-kid with etherium. You figure you can throw something together?¡±

    Hunter studied the room. He could feel the construct attached to the display behind him, he pushed his hand against the glass, and sure enough, he met resistance when his hand was about an inch away.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know about a distraction,¡± Hunter answered, looking around the rooms. These must be some of the more expensive items in the museum. There might be force constructs all around them, which meant enough parts to create a powerful effect. He wondered how big of a battery they were running to power them, and how they were keeping it charged. They probably switched it out with a new one every morning before opening.

    ¡°I might be able to create a forcefield powerful enough to keep them out of here. The problem is¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªfinding the time and space to create it,¡± Sly finished for him.

    Hunter nodded. He noticed a door, hidden behind a small potted tree and a styrofoam rock prop. He could barely make out a sign on it, as the lighting in the corners was dim. When he realized what it was, he smiled.

    ¡°If I¡¯m not wrong, that¡¯s a maintenance room. If one of these constructs starts to act up, you¡¯ll want to have quick access to parts in order to repair it. If you can get me in there, I bet it¡¯ll have almost everything I need.¡±

    Sly nodded, and the man they¡¯d been talking with seemed excited, but a bit worried.

    ¡°How will we get you in there? They¡¯ll see us moving around?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯ll be what we need the distraction for,¡± Sly said.

    ¡°But what kind of distraction could we possibly make?¡± the man asked.

    In the end, the distraction was made for them. They heard a small explosion somewhere in the building, causing the walls and displays to shake. For a moment, the guards¡¯ attention was away from the rooms¡¯ only entrance and exit, as they shouted at each other. One of them was on a phone, Hunter assumed he was calling someone to see what as happening.

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Now, Hunter,¡± Sly said, lifting him up. They made it to the maintenance room. The man stood too, asking what they needed him to do. Sly looked to Hunter.

    If Hunter could use the constructs that were currently used for protecting the artifacts from theft, it would make his job a lot easier, and a lot less physically taxing. But he didn¡¯t have the time to walk a bunch of laymen through the process of disassembling a Force construct while they were active.

    Hunter shook his head towards Sly, indicating that he couldn¡¯t think of anything.

    ¡°Just try and keep people calm,¡± Sly said. The man looked at Sly like he¡¯d just chosen him to swim across the ocean.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know these people, but fine, I''ll do my best,¡± he said.

    The door was unlocked¡ª which was a relief. Hunter couldn¡¯t have been sure when he pointed it out. There were constructs in various states of assembly and repair. Hunter guessed that someone had been in here when the alarm was activated, and in their haste to leave, they must forgotten to lock the door behind them. There were a dozen batteries with varying charges lining the walls, and scattered across the workbenches. He¡¯d be comfortable with about twice the amount that was available to him, not that he¡¯d even have enough time to use more than one.

    For the second time in a couple of days, Hunter thought through what he knew about Force constructs.

    Forcefields demand a lot more etherium than Hunter could personally supply. Creating one powerful enough to keep them safe from rifles would probably take more etherium than Sly could supply.

    ¡°Sly, what¡¯s your AR?¡± Hunter asked.

    ¡°48,¡± Sly said.

    Hunter pursed his lips. Together they could supply about 53 AR worth of etherium, but it would need more than that. Maybe more than twice that much. He could probably reduce that by around 10 percent, but either way it would take 3 or 4 people to keep it active.

    ¡°How much time do I have?¡± Hunter asked.

    ¡°Assume you¡¯re already out of time.¡±

    Hunter wanted to laugh. This was a ridiculous situation to be in. He wished they¡¯d asked the rest of the hostages if any of them were artisans. He could definitely use another set of hands.

    He studied the constructs that were in the process of being built or repaired around him. He could use a few of them, but many of them were useless to him at the moment. He had a flashback to the final round of the competition. He wondered if he¡¯d have done any better during the final round if failing to attain a spot in the top 3 meant the death of himself and over a couple dozen others.

    The biggest difference between this, and the competition, is that he wasn¡¯t going to lose points for shoddy work, and this was going to have to be a very rough job.

    ¡°I¡¯ll need your help,¡± Hunter said. He didn¡¯t have the third arm with him, nor did he have the time to try and configure his workspace to suit his handicap. Hunter directed Sly to hold a few batteries, and also had him activate them in bursts. Then he realized he was being stupid, and had Sly directly activate the constructs as he was working.

    Sly had an affinity rating of 48, so Hunter didn¡¯t actually need the batteries right now. In fact, he could probably use them to help power the construct later on.

    The difference between using batteries to create a construct, and having someone stand by with a high affinity, was night and day. He was able to work almost three times as fast. Another way that this whole situation differed from the competition was that most of the tools and parts around him were geared towards a single aim: Force constructs.

    Hunter had worked with shaped force constructs before, but only ever in the role of maintenance and very basic repairs. Shaping force fields was difficult, even for him. It came with a whole bunch of proprietary knowledge about efficient network placement and specific glyphs. Lucky for him, this was the most basic of shaped force fields, it was a flat field meant to project no more than an inch or two in front of a pane of glass. If this was a construct meant to create a curved field, Hunter was sure he could feel his way around the network in order to comprehend it, but he would probably want a day or three to do so.

    During the second round of the competition, all they had to do was project a force field, they didn¡¯t have to try and manipulate how that field manifested. This was different¡ª and Hunter felt a bit out of his depth. Shaped fields were about a decade old but it had never been relevant for him to learn. Fortunately for him, and he supposed to the rest of the hostages, he had the unique capacity of being able to learn new glyphs on the spot, and his previous experience with this type of construct would hopefully expedite the process.

    Another boon was that most of the shaping functions were already installed. Three of the constructs were pretty much ready to go before he even started working, so he decided to focus the entire build around them. It only took him a couple of minutes to put everything together.

    Then he had an idea, and it would take less than a extra minute to configure the parts he needed to make the necessary adjustments to execute the idea. He told Sly about the addition he was making, and Sly agreed that it would be worth the extra time. Hunter added a few link glyphs, and made some very rough channel attachments, using extra-fine drawstone-threaded wires. These were expensive to produce, and Hunter wasn¡¯t using them to their greatest effect, but for once in his life he didn¡¯t care about efficiency. This time, he wasn¡¯t trying to prove a point or satisfy his own pride.

    There were lives at stake, including his own. The anxiety was causing his hands to tremble still, but he was used to that¡ª his hands always shook a bit when he was working.

    The guards had managed to get the crowded hostages to quiet down by the time Hunter was finished. Sly opened the maintenance-room door as quietly as he could. They slowly exited it and squatted behind the small tree and the fake rock that slightly occluded most of the door from the display rooms¡¯ entrance.

    It was a dark corner, and they hoped it would be enough to keep them hidden until they found an opportunity to place the construct. In the meantime, they were able to get the attention of the man they¡¯d talked to before. They waved him over, and he made his way over to them when during a small moment when they weren¡¯t being watched.

    They told him about the construct and the need for multiple volunteers to keep it active. The man started asking around to see if anyone wanted to help.

    A steady staccato of gunshots rang out in the distance.

    ¡°Its the police! They¡¯re coming to save us!¡± someone yelled. Hunter saw Sly shake his head.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t good. The abolitionists are already desperate. We probably don¡¯t have a lot of time. Get ready to move.¡±

    Another small explosion rocked the building, the walls of the display room shook. In the brief seconds the guards were distracted, Sly and Hunter were able to leave cover and make their way along the side of the room. Over the next minute, they slow inched their way towards the front of the crowd. Hunter told Sly exactly what he would need to do in order to set the constructs up. He¡¯d even etched a 1, 2, and 3 on each of the main parts so that Sly would know which order to set them up in.

    A few more hostages slowly made their way to the front of the crowd. They nodded to him and Sly. He guessed that they were the volunteers who would be keeping the construct active once it was placed.

    Hunter was certain the construct would work, but he couldn¡¯t guarantee it would hold out long enough for law enforcement to arrive. If the fight between law enforcement and the abolitionists stretched for more than an hour, then they would be out of luck.

    Sly held the disassembled construct in his hands, three thin, wide bars that would be set up end to end. It would project a tall forcefield outwards. Hunter interrupted the channels leading to what he assumed were the glyphs which were placed to limit the forcefield¡¯s intensity, which meant that much more etherium would be running through the later sequence of glyphs than they were meant to handle. He also placed a reinforce glyph along the output plates to keep the field as stable as possible. He didn¡¯t have any time to debug each connection in the network, and he felt that break in his workflow as if it were a persistent, annoying itch at the back of his mind.

    He was doing his best to ignore it.

    The construct was the best he could come up with in the time he¡¯d had. Anything travelling below a certain speed shouldn¡¯t be able to enter the room. It wouldn¡¯t completely stop any bullets fired from close range, but it would hopefully slow them down enough to ensure they wouldn¡¯t be able to cause any fatal damage.

    Hunter noticed beads of sweat forming along Sly¡¯s temples. Sly took off his overcoat, Revealing a dark-grey dress shirt with a brown-leather holster strapped across his torso. The empty holster felt conspicuous to Hunter. But he figured they were past worrying about what he terrorists were thinking.

    Hunter watched Sly start to click the bars together, preparing to activate them all at once. He nodded to the volunteers. The rest of the hostages were realizing there was something going on. One of the guards seemed to notice the growing agitation, and was about to say something, but a shout down the hallway grabbed his attention.

    Sly sprung into action, crossing the intervening yards between himself and the entrance in a second. The volunteers were quick to follow. The guards were already reacting, pointing their guns at them. One of them had their facemask removed, Hunter watched his face transition from an expression of panic, to one of fury as he pulled the trigger.

    The construct activated a split second later. Sly grunted, and Hunter saw him stiffen.

 Chapter 21

    Sly stayed crouched in front of the construct, showing no outward signs that he was hit. The volunteers reached him a split second later, as a small storm of bullets entered the thin shaped forcefield, the field itself becoming more visible with each hand that touched one of the drawstone which had been roughly mounted to the construct. The forcefield was rippling, especially around the points where the bullets impacted it, the trajectory of the slowed rounds changing as they passed through the constructs area of effect.

    Most of the rounds hit the small team manning the construct, but they¡¯d been robbed of most of their velocity and Hunter was relieved to note that they seemed to bounce off the volunteers bodies.

    ¡°Cover your eyes with your free hands,¡± Sly yelled, his voice raspier than normal. Hunter nodded. That was smart. Just because the bullets couldn¡¯t penetrate skin, didn¡¯t mean that they weren¡¯t a hazard.

    Hunter approached the construct. He wanted to keep an eye on it, and prepare to disengage the safety of their surprise gift. He was careful to cover his eyes, but left enough of a gap with his fingers to watch the abolitionists do their best to try and overwhelm the construct with brute force. Most of them were gathering, coming into view from both sides of the hallway leading to the hostages, which meant more guns and bullets peppering the volunteers.

    When they realized that their guns weren¡¯t proving effective, they tried to push past the shaped field themselves. Some tried to find gaps along the edges of the field where they could aim their weapons through, and Hunter felt a moment of dread. He suddenly saw the face of the volunteers and Sly, bloodied and staring at him with gazes of accusation.

    Why hadn¡¯t he thought about the width of the entrance? Would the force field be big enough?

    He sighed in relief when the guards probes proved ineffective. Hunter was feeling that most of his survival was coming down to sheer luck, he couldn¡¯t believe how careless he¡¯d been.

    But this wasn¡¯t the first time he¡¯d been careless today, was it? He could have avoided this whole situation if he¡¯d just done the smart thing and finish packing back at the hotel. Hunter glanced at Sly, and saw a wet, dark streak running down his shirt. His eyes traced the streak to a spot just below the armpit of the arm he was using to shield his eyes.

    Sly was watching him as well.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me, Hunter. How¡¯s the construct holding up?¡±

    Hunter forced his attention back to the construct. He was having trouble feeling it the way he usually could; he felt overwhelmed with all of the anxiety and adrenaline pumping through his blood. The forcefield was powerful enough to distort the soundwaves travelling through it, and the shouting of the terrorists seemed muffled. He closed his eyes, deciding to trust his work, believing that he was safe enough to relax and focus, if only for a brief second.

    It didn¡¯t take long, merely a moment to exhale and close his eyes was enough of a split-second distraction from the situation that he could start to get a sense of how the construct was working.

    He frowned.

    It was working, but it was starting to show some worrying signs. That being said, he couldn¡¯t say how long it would hold up for. It would hold for a little while, but whether that meant 10 minutes, or 40, he couldn¡¯t be sure.

    ¡°How long can we rely on this for?¡± one of the volunteers asked, as if reading his mind. Hunter wished he could give him a solid answer, and he felt embarrassed by the fact that he couldn¡¯t.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Hunter said. He could feel a few potential points of failure in the construct lighting up as he spoke, any one of which could cause a fatal cascade, ¡°I¡¯m sorry, it won¡¯t hold indefinitely.¡±

    ¡°What do we do now?¡± another of them asked.

    ¡°We wait,¡± Sly said, ¡°Hunter, are you ready to use the contingency?¡±

    Hunter nodded, double checking that all the battery connections were ready, and triple checking them just to be safe. Now that he had time, he noted over a dozen small mistakes he¡¯d made in his rush to make the construct. He tried to etch each and every single one into his mind. He tried to be fair with himself, but when his life was on the line, it felt like every mistake was a potential loss of an innocent life due to his own incompetence.

    Sly sighed, and winced.

    ¡°Does anyone here know how to treat a gunshot wound?¡± Hunter asked the rest of the people in the room.

    ¡°Never mind that,¡± Sly said, raising his voice. ¡°Everyone, there is a small room behind the styrofoam rock. I want you all to get inside and barricade the door with whatever you can find. That means you as well, Hunter.¡±

    ¡°No, you need me for the contingency,¡± Hunter said, shaking his head¡ª half in protest and half because he couldn¡¯t believe the words coming out of his mouth. Part of him was screaming to take the excuse to run and hide. But he couldn¡¯t just leave Sly and the others here.

    But what could he possibly do to help them? His AR wasn¡¯t high enough to take over any of their positions. And a selfish little voice in the back of his mind was telling him that Sly was more than capable of managing the contingency himself.

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    It seemed that Sly and the little voice were in agreement.

    ¡°How hard can it be? I just need to remove one of these little rods, right?¡± he asked, nodding his head towards one of the small pin-like rods Hunter had used to keep the battery¡¯s etherium buffers in place.

    ¡°Yeah, but you¡¯re hurt¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªthen I''ll get someone else to do it,¡± Sly said, his voice lowering. He seemed to be getting tired, and incredibly annoyed.

    ¡°Come on,¡± Hunter heard someone say as they put a hand on his shoulder, it was the mother of the screaming child from earlier, whose dad was probably dead around the corner. Her eyes were red, and mascara ran down her cheeks, but she looked at him with a genuine warmth.

    ¡°You¡¯ve done enough to help us. You need to trust that it¡¯ll all work out,¡± she said. Hunter could hardly believe the words coming out of her mouth. Was she delusional?

    ¡°Hunter, go!¡± Sly snapped, ¡°I swear I will let go of this construct and drag you there myself. Is that what you want?¡±

    ¡°Fine!¡± Hunter relented. He allowed the woman to help him stand, the bruising from earlier was really starting to affect him now that their lives weren¡¯t in immediate danger, ¡°You better be alive when we come back out.¡±

    The woman brought him to the room, which was already almost completely filled. As the door closed, he saw a sly smile on his bodyguards face.

    Maybe that¡¯s why his friends¡¯ called him that.

    <hr>

    ¡°I¡¯ve survived worse than this, kid,¡± Sly said as he contemplated the growing group of abolitionists on the other side of the forcefield. Now that he was sure that Hunter wouldn¡¯t die from the hail of bullets that would inevitably meet them once the construct failed, he felt himself relax a bit. The wound under his arm was starting to annoy him, but he had a small moment of relative peace.

    It was important to notice those moments and appreciate them when you could.

    A change in the abolitionists posture attracted his attention. All of the terrorists were starting to straighten there backs. A few were even saluting, and making way for a someone that he recognized. It was the lady who¡¯d taken his gun.

    She walked up to the forcefield and sneered as she pressed at it. She shot at him and the volunteers a few times with his pistol. He gave her the most bored and disinterested look he could as the bullets flew around them.

    He wouldn¡¯t even care if he lost an eye to his bitch. He¡¯d even smile at her if she managed it. In fact, why wait?

    He flashed the most brilliant, full-toothed smile he could manage.

    This, he thought to himself as she started to pull the trigger faster, until the magazine was empty, is what separates you from the pros. Lack of discipline, letting anger get the better of you and showing all of your guys just how unreliable you are.

    As soon as he heard the gunshots and explosions, he knew that their time would be limited. Given what he knew about these terrorists, they would probably fight to the death, twisting their survival instinct into a twisted idea of honor. But before they did that, at least one of them would turn their aggression and resentment onto the hostages.

    He¡¯d seen it happen before. There wasn¡¯t much in the way of human depravity that Sly hadn¡¯t either witnessed first hand, or had been sent to bring a swift and sudden end to. He wished he¡¯d had someone like Hunter on his team back then. Probably would have saved a lot of lives if he could puzzle together shield constructs out of spare parts.

    He¡¯d had some doubts about the construct being able to hold up this long, given the limited amount of time that Hunter had to craft it but Sly had to admit that he was surprised by the kid¡¯s ingenuity. The construct had saved their asses so far, but t this point it didn¡¯t matter how long the construct lasted. Oberon security forces were undoubtedly picking their way through the rest of these guys. Or else, this chick wouldn¡¯t be here trying to fight a forcefield that had proven incredibly effective over the last couple of minutes.

    Their motives at this point were one of two, as far as he could tell. Kill all the hostages in a final act of rebellion against their inevitable death, a final exercise of whatever power they think they have, or use the hostages as a buffer while they make their final stand.

    They obviously hadn¡¯t thought through their plan. These people had no idea how to use hostages effectively. He hadn¡¯t been sure at first, but their in competencies ran just as reliably as well-maintained clockwork.

    Sure, he¡¯d been caught twice, but they¡¯d also been severely adept at letting themselves get distracted. So far, he¡¯d been relying on that to survive and protect his charge. He probably won¡¯t be able to get away with it again, but it spoke of an even deeper problem in these guys¡¯ organization. They weren¡¯t prepared to handle the unexpected. They were undisciplined.

    He considered the contingency which Hunter had installed into the forcefield¡¯s emitter. So far, he had been underestimated. That was his advantage. He had one last card to play, but he wasn¡¯t sure when he should play it. If he were her¡ª the one waving around his gun like some hotshot, giving what he could only assume to be desperate, half-assed orders to her crew of brain-dead ¡®freedom fighters¡¯¡ª he¡¯d have used the hostages to negotiate their escape.

    And by negotiate, he¡¯d have used them as body shields, leaving behind some of his guys to make it seem like they were going to stick around and offer resistance, while he and the most useful of his underlings snuck away. Oberon would have the sky covered by a ship or two, and the museum would be surrounded, so that would leave something like a sewer system, or dressing up as a survivor who barricaded themselves in another room, so utterly thankful for the big and strong law enforcement men who came and saved them.

    Were they winging it? It seemed to be all or nothing when it came to them. They hadn¡¯t thought ahead. They probably saw a symbolic target in the museum, a shared history which the abolitionists had grown to despise. It had probably been a split-second decision made by the higher-ups, and he imagined they¡¯d all congratulated themselves on the sheer tactical brilliance of attacking a domain¡¯s historical aggregate.

    He could admit that it wasn¡¯t a terrible target, but they were clearly the wrong people for the job.

    There was nothing more frustrating and insulting than sufficiently motivated amateurs.

    But what they lacked in discipline, experience, and foresight, they made up for in danger. Although he could predict their actions, and play their inexperience against them to an extent, these guys were not to be underestimated. An animal backed up against the wall was not one you wanted to fight against without preparation or numbers.

    And he¡¯d just told his own numerical advantage to barricade themselves in a room, not that he regretted it the choice, and he didn¡¯t have much in the way of preparation except for the forcefield, and one final contingency built into it that would ruin the construct, but would provide an opportunity to do something special.

    At least, that was the hope. On the other hand, this could all continue to go very, very wrong and he would die a painful death at the hands a gang of unruly children.

 Chapter 22

    He didn¡¯t know exactly what opportunity he was looking for, but he¡¯d know it when he saw it. That, or he would have to create the opportunity himself. He called this strategy ¡®going with the flow.¡¯ And it was only to be enacted when you were staring down a real or metaphorical barrel.

    Fuck it, he thought, just another day at the office.

    The fake smile he was beaming towards the woman turned genuine. He hated going with the flow, but he¡¯d by lying if he said that there was anything more exciting. Then she smiled back, and the excitement diminished.

    That couldn¡¯t be good.

    He felt a thump through the floor. Then another one, and another one. A figure dressed in thick padding and holding one of the biggest guns he¡¯d ever seen walked into view. Twin barrels, a sleeve of bullets trailing off its side and into a large sack he carried over his shoulder. It was the the kind of gun you¡¯d see mounted on a truck, or guarding key infrastructure. He¡¯d seen guns just like that one tear through vehicles.

    You don¡¯t want to be a soft, fleshy person when the mean end of that thing was pointed at you.

    He wondered, how does a group of untrained revolutionaries get their hands on that kind of toy? It¡¯s not like they sold them at grocery stores. He had an idea of what that meant, and he didn¡¯t like the implication. The abolitionists had backing.

    Sly¡¯s smile disappeared. He cleared his throat and considered the three other volunteers. The sight of the new guy rattled them, but they were all holding steady, a look on defiance on their faces. Syler was the furthest to the left, and he traded spots with the guy to his right.

    ¡°Alright guys, when I say ¡®now,¡¯ you¡¯re going to dive yourself behind the wall closest to you. Clear?¡± he asked.

    They all looked at him with some uncertainty, but nodded anyways.

    ¡°When the construct starts to fail, I''m going to pull this pin out, and we¡¯re all going to want to be out of the way when that happens.¡±

    ¡°As long as everyone else can survive for a little while longer, I''ll do anything,¡± said the guy who he just swapped places with. Syler nodded.

    These were good men. Men he¡¯d have been honored to serve with.

    ¡°No matter what happens, you guys have shown the kind of courage that would have inspired bards to write poems about you, a millenia ago. If we all survive this, drinks are on me,¡± he said.

    He got some smiles out of them. Good.

    The big man pushed at the forcefield. Sly noticed a small distortion around his hand. He cursed.

    That was a personal shield.. Oberon Enterprises had a few prototypes he¡¯d had the opportunity to play with, but there were rumors that other corporations were slightly ahead in their development of the technology, but as far as he was aware none of those companies had plans to release it yet.

    The implications were getting worse. Something was starting to smell very rotten.

    A machine gun, a personal shield, and it was clear that the boss lady didn¡¯t have one of her own. So that meant they were saving this guy for a final stand, a way to inflict the most amount of damage they could for as long as possible. Amateurs could be smart, sometimes. And having such a simple goal meant that their win condition became incredibly flexible. The reason they¡¯d come to the museum was to cause damage¡ª enough damage to tell the Council that nothing was sacred to the abolitionists, everything was a target.

    So, they had a plan after all.

    Syler sighed. He hated idealists on the battlefield. They made for the worst kind of enemy. Once they got all worked up, you couldn¡¯t reason with them.

    The guy got a nod from his boss, and the gun started to spool up, its twin-barrels spinning faster and faster.

    Then the storm hit. Sly had to cover his eyes again. This time, the bullets had considerably more force behind them as they passed through the forcefield, but they didn¡¯t feel like they were breaking through his skin, at least not enough to cause any serious damage.

    Maybe they would be able to hold out for a bit, he thought.

    Then one of the bullets hit his clavicle, and he felt it break. He revised his assessment.

    The forcefield construct was radiating heat, he could feel it on the skin of his hands even from a foot away. Hunter had told him that this would be one of the potential signs of immanent failure.

    ¡°Shit,¡± he muttered. The pain from a broken collar bone wasn¡¯t easy to ignore, and he had to force his mind away from the it. Despite years of training, instinctual panic was a bitch to deal with. It got easier, but it didn¡¯t get any more comfortable to work through.

    ¡°Now!¡± he yelled, first finding and then pulling out the small rods that kept the batteries flow of etherium slow and contained. Removing them would be like suddenly removing the dam which held back a large river.

    He dived as soon as it was pulled, practically tackling the guy to his left and pulling them both to safety.

    There was a split second where nothing happened, the sound of the machine gun was unmuffled. Bullets flew through the room, tearing through the forcefield covering the displays along the back wall. He felt a moment of regret, certain that the contingency had failed to activate, but then he heard an explosion, and was violently thrown by a rapidly expanding wall of displaced air.

    The sounds of chaos and short-lived screams were quickly silenced. He felt his body picked up and thrown a few meters, impacting the displays to his left. The body of the man who he¡¯d tackled cover was pressed against his own, and he felt the air leave his lungs.

    As dazed as he was, he kept his focus, glancing across the room to see if the other two guys were alright. They were hurt, but moving. So was the guy who he¡¯d unintentionally acted as a cushion for.

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    He wanted to ask the man who he''d acted a cushion for if he was alright, but he wasn''t able to speak yet. So he tapped the man on the shoulder, and the man groaned. He figured that was as positive a sign he would get. He stood and hugged the wall, peaking out of the room to assess the damage the situation.

    A giant hole had been blasted through the wall the construct had been pointing towards, opposite the room¡¯s entrance. 15 yards away, the juggernaut was lying on the ground, struggling to get up. His boss was even further away, her arms and legs twisted at angles they typically wouldn¡¯t be.

    Sly grinned at the sight.

    The blast, or whatever it was, had apparently caught most of the terrorists by surprise, throwing many of them at least a meter away. There were over a dozen of them, and none of them were moving much. Syler whistled at Hunter''s handiwork. He was reminded of an old addage about how a hammer could be used to build a house or kill a man. He bet none of the designers of the constructs had ever guessed that they might be used this way.

    One of the volunteers joined him, assessing the damage and picking up one of the closest guns he could find.

    ¡°Probably gotta make sure they won¡¯t get back up, right?¡± the man said, his voice quivering. He''d probably never felt so much adrenaline in his life.

    ¡°You ever shot one of those before?¡± he asked. The sheer concussive force that would come from being caught in such a strong forcefield probably knocked most of them out, but it might not hurt to make sure their defeated enemy wouldn''t be getting back up for another round.

    He took a few seconds to consider their options. Sly wanted to avoid turning these guys into killers, if he could. But if they wanted to defend themselves, he had no problem with that.

    The man shook his head in response to the question.

    ¡°Keep your finger off the trigger, and the barrel pointed down. Be ready to fire if any of them look like they still want to fight,¡± Sly said. He glanced at the carnage around them again, ¡°and collect a couple more rifles for the other guys, just in case.¡±

    He saw his pistol a few meters away. He limped towards it and picked it up, making his way over towards the armored juggernaut who was starting to get back to his feet. He kicked the man as hard as he could, forcing him back to the ground. Apparently the blast from their construct was enough to disrupt whatever had powered the personal shield.

    Speaking of which¡­

    ¡°Who gave you the shield?¡± Syler asked.

    ¡°Fuck you,¡± was the response.

    ¡°You¡¯re not my type,¡± Syler said, nodding to himself. He hadn¡¯t really expected a straight answer, anyways.

    Syler considered his options again. He was exhausted, and dizzy. He probably had a concussion, as well as a worrying amount of blood loss. He didn¡¯t have the energy or the patience to fight this guy. The boss looked like she was having trouble breathing. She was gazing up at the ceiling, mumbling. The next step seemed pretty clear. The simplest move would be to kill them, but it would also be the most short-sighted.

    He¡¯d have to budget the rest of his energy until the security forces arrived¡ªwhether they were law enforcement or the domain guard, he didn¡¯t care. They¡¯d be here soon, and shit could still go sideways in a matter of seconds. He also didn¡¯t know how many more abolitionists were scattered throughout the museum.

    They would want to slow down any potential enemies, and the only way he could do that would be by taking the boss. He decided he¡¯d give the abolitionists a lesson in effective hostage-taking. A professional courtesy. He smirked as he started walking towards the brute. He tore off the man¡¯s helmet, hit the man in the head as hard as he could with the butt of his pistol.

    The man didn¡¯t collapse, but he was dazed. Syler hit him again, and finally got the desires result as the big guy fell into a deep sleep.

    "Sweet dreams," Syler sighed.

    He limped towards the woman, and started dragging her back. She moaned as her broken limbs were mangled further. She was either incredibly heavy, or the blood loss had made him weak.

    ¡°Hey, can you help me out?¡± he asked the volunteers. They hurried to help him, pulling her all the way back towards the maintenance room, and knocked on the door.

    It took longer than he¡¯d have liked to convince them to open it, and longer still to remove the stack of heavy boxes they¡¯d used to barricade the door, but he couldn¡¯t fault them for being cautious. The small crowd that greeted them were relieved to see them arrive. The volunteers dragged the boss-woman into a corner and kept an eye on her. Sly found Hunter, who was working away at another construct with some assistance.

    ¡°What was that going to be?¡± Syler asked Hunter, who looked like he was going to cry when he saw the Syler was alright.

    ¡°Another contingency,¡± Hunter said, ¡°did we make it? Are we safe?¡±

    ¡°Almost,¡± Sly said, "is that the sake kind of contingency as the last one?"

    Hunter shrugged. The kid looked like he was about to fall asleep. Sly grunted as he got closer to the kid, pulling the young man''s hands away from the potential disaster he was assembling.

    "We should be okay, why don''t you take a rest?" Syler asked. Hunter nodded and dropped his tools.

    He stood beside the kid, holding one hand against the bullet wound. The broken collarbone felt like it was grinding with every movement, but he grit his teeth and projected as much confidence as he could. At this point, he figured that any reinforcements would have shown up already. He didn¡¯t let his guard down, though. Minute after minute passed. There were no more gunshots or explosions, so he figured that it was only a matter of time before they were found.

    A few minutes later, there was a banging at the door.

    ¡°Anyone in there?¡±

    The people inside had grown agitated as they waited. Sly didn¡¯t bother trying to calm them once they heard the voice. He barely had the energy to keep himself standing, crowd control would be up to the security force.

    ¡°This is Oberon Security, open the door.¡±

    Syler thought he recognized the voice. He almost laughed when he heard it. He asked for someone to help him over to the door. He spoke through the small crack between the barricade and the door.

    ¡°Is that you Joe?¡± Syler yelled.

    ¡°What? Who is that?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m opening the door,¡± Syler said, both to his friend on the other side and the gathered people, ¡°it¡¯s safe. Hey, Joe, careful with that hair-trigger. We¡¯ve got a VIP in here.¡±

    He opened the door.

    There were a dozen men on the other side, all with weapons drawn but lowered. As soon as they saw Syler and the rest of the survivors, they all relaxed a bit.

    ¡°That you, Sly?¡± the closest of the security forces asked. He was covered in tactical gear, but the voice was definitely the same as it was years ago, ¡°I thought you were allergic to museums.¡±

    ¡°No, you¡¯re thinking of libraries,¡± Syler answered, finally letting himself feel some relief. He could feel his eyes forcing themselves closed, but he reminded himself that he still had a job to do. He almost collapsed, but caught himself against someone nearby. One of the security forces came to help them.

    Syler forced himself to point to Hunter, who was at the back of the crowd being thanked by a few of the ex-hostages.

    ¡°The skinny one, tall. He¡¯s the newest Oberon kid. Make sure he stays safe, Joe.¡±

    He couldn¡¯t see it, but he was sure that the news would be a bit shocking to his old friend. The information was probably still filtering through the necessary channels before it hit the mainstream.

    ¡°You got it, Sir,¡± he said, pointing at the unconscious woman with mangled limbs that they¡¯d shoved into the corner beside the barricade, ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°Trouble,¡± Syler said, fighting the exhaustion, ¡°they have backing. Find out who.¡±

    Joe called for a medic as Syler started to slump again. As his eyes closed, he an unexpected but welcome sense of contentment rose up in him.

    He¡¯d done his job, and the kid had done alright as well.

 Chapter 23

    Apparently, Sly had a few friends in Oberon¡¯s security force, not one of whom appeared to be low in the chain of command, and Hunter wasn''t quite sure what to make of them. They appeared to be assessing him, and were all quite friendly¡ª much more personable than he would expect from a bunch of career warriors. He''d asked to see Sly, but apparently he''d been unconscious since he collapsed during the rescue. In the meantime, once the medical responders looked Hunter over and declared that he was in one piece, he was picked up by a new armed escort, composed of 5 mean-looking dudes who told him that they had orders to help him finish moving his stuff from the hotel suite to the estate.

    Hunter had totally forgotten about the hotel. He felt like he had too much to process from the last few hours. In the span of 5 days he¡¯d left his home of years, placed 5th in a global competition, been adopted into one of the most powerful families in the world, and had almost been killed multiple times by a bunch of psychos. The security forces had been prepared to lay siege to the museum for a few hours at least, but the explosions that they''d heard had been set off by the abolitionists, leading the assembled Guard force to accelerate their timeline for taking action. The terrorists destroyed several Council-themed displays and a few of the ancient relics surrounding those displays were now lost to history.

    In the fight to secure the museum, the tale of the Journeyer was almost completely destroyed. Two of the paintings were gone forever. The other two were on various states of destruction and would take a long time to restore.

    Hunter regretted the loss, but was glad that he''d been able to see it while it was still whole¡ª to start to see it almost like his dad had, years ago. It had felt like a bridge through time.

    It wasn¡¯t like they were the only Asutnahem artifacts in the world. He would take the time to see more of them one day. Who knows, maybe the Barnum Academy had an elective dedicated to ancient history.

    Hunters¡¯ new bodyguards drove him back to the hotel in an armored squad van, which had enough room to carry the meager belongings he''d brought with him over to the mansion. One of his bodyguards got a call from Mrs. Verillion on the way. She told him that they were all glad to hear that he was alright, and she asked if Hunter needed anything from his old home in Seckina. The Comics hadn''t taken his absence with grace, having invaded the place while he''d been gone. There were threats spray painted around the inside and outside of the house, but his old workbench and some of his tools appeared relatively unharmed

    He told her that he''d take the tools. He imagined that if the new room that Stewart was working on was up to Oberon Enterprises¡¯ standard, he''d hardly even miss his old set up.

    They spent the night at the hotel, the bodyguards had managed to grab the suite across from Hunters, and took turns watching his door. Not that he cared. It took him less than four minutes to put everything he''d brought with him near the door, and then he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

    When he arrived at the mansion the next day, he was surprised to find Mrs. Verilion waiting for him.

    ¡°I thought you were all the way out in Seckina,¡± Hunter said.

    ¡°I have a small army of staff to do all of that for me,¡± she said, ¡°my job for the day is to ensure you get settled in without any more issues. But before that, I''m to escort you to meet with Mr. Oberon and Ms. Aera.¡±

    Hunter had a premonition about his time as an Oberon. He imagined that life would be busy, both before and beyond his coming time at the academy. He was prepared to make the sacrifice, though. Gone were the days of being able to spend 8 hours utterly transfixed by an especially curious set of glyph synergies and their combinations or implications. At least, for the most part.

    If there was one thing that Hunter was starting to learn¡ª something from his first time meeting Stewart, was that no matter how busy the next chapter of his life would be, he had a certain amount of power and freedom as an Oberon with which he could shape certain aspects of his life, or at least he hoped.

    Synergies were his ticket to his dreams, and he would be damned before he let life take that advantage away from him.

    Hunter had expected Mrs. Verillion to bring him to Trey¡¯s office, but instead she led him down a few long hallways, which led to a large room¡ª which Hunter could only refer to as a living room given his lack of experience with the thousand subtleties of luxury lifestyles. Where Trey¡¯s office held a view that exposed the entire stretch of land from the mountain to the capital city, this room was much more humble, featuring what appeared to be a 30 foot pane of glass separating the room from the forest which surrounded the home.

    Trey and Aera were standing by a very large, puffy sofa. Another identical sofa sat parallel to it. A large television stood guard before the imposing window, playing some financial news broadcast. Stock tickers scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

    ¡°Hunter! I¡¯d have asked Syler what possessed you to make a trip to the museum yesterday of all days, but he is still unconscious from all the excitement,¡± Trey said, barking a short laugh, ¡°You can tell us all about it. Have you met my daughter yet? I suppose she¡¯s your adopted sister now. Aera, meet Hunter. Hunter, Aera.¡±

    Aera was just as striking in real life as she¡¯d been in all the photos he¡¯d seen of her on the news. She was tall, not as tall as Hunter of course, but tall enough to catch attention, and she had the build of an athlete. Trey had said she had an AR of, what, 40? 30? Such a high AR at such a young age would imply an incredible potential for athleticism that they would have been foolish not to take full advantage of.

    Hunter was jealous. She was basically walking history, a world-record holder and she would surely break more records in the future. Who knows how high her AR will reach? What will might they discover about affinity through her development?

    She had platinum-blonde hair, cut short but evenly. It contrasted the more popular hairstyles Hunter had seen. It was almost like something out of a science fiction comic book.

    He smiled and nodded at her, holding out his hand for her to shake. Her face remained impassive as she reached out and shook it once. She had a hard look in her eye, as if she was doing her best to control herself. Hunter wouldn¡¯t consider himself an expert in reading people, but she didn''t seem too pleased to be around him.

    ¡°Excellent. Both of you will have plenty of time to get to know each other in the coming days and years,¡± Trey said. ¡°Hunter, before you fill us in on everything that happened yesterday, I¡¯d like to go over the plan I''ve set up for you two. Come and sit.¡±

    Trey sat down on one of the sofas. Aera sat beside him, and Hunter felt that it would be awkward if he sat on the same couch so he placed himself on the couch across from them. As he sat, he felt like he fell for a full minute before meeting resistance, and even then, it was almost like he was being cradled by a cloud.

    He must have looked as impressed as he felt.

    ¡°I always love seeing peoples expressions when they sit on these,¡± Trey said, patting the armrest beside him, ¡°They¡¯ve been with the family for over a century. Couldn¡¯t tell you where they came from, though.¡±

    ¡°I can honestly say I''ve never felt anything like it,¡± Hunter said. It was exactly what he would expect in the house of the leader of a Council Corporation. In fact, comfortable furniture was the least of what he¡¯d expect.

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    A steward appeared from the hallway, holding a tray of snacks and beverages. Trey rolled up his sleeves and started to eat as soon as the trays were placed in front of them.

    ¡°Dig in, guys. I haven¡¯t eaten all day, so this is breakfast and lunch for me,¡± Trey said between bites, ¡°My ex-wife, Aera¡¯s mother, lectured me endlessly about eating a bunch of pastries for my first meal of the day. I justify it to myself by limiting such indulgence to a couple of times a week.¡±

    After finishing, he wiped his hands on one of the thick napkins, the kind you¡¯d expect to find in a fine restaurant, and pulled over a small folder. He skimmed the contents for a moment and then nodded.

    ¡°The plan! Alright, you two, listen up,¡± Trey said, clearing his throat.

    ¡°Hunter, I''ve had your school transcripts found¡ª and I was shocked to see that they only seem to record your attendance for the first few years of your elementary education. I did a bit more digging and found a comment which noted that the day after your fathers¡¯ death, you stopped attending school altogether.

    Your absence past that point is understandable, but in order to succeed at Barnum, we¡¯ll need to do our best to rectify the gaps in your education. Including your ether and construct knowledge base. Ah-ah, I know,¡± Trey said, forestalling Hunters¡¯ impending interruption, ¡°but I''ll remind you of your performance during the preliminary examination. You would not have attended the competition if it weren¡¯t for Ms. Collingwood. Although your written answers were delightful, you¡¯ll find that Barnum will require your utmost in all academic dimensions. Understood?¡±

    Hunter understood, but he didn¡¯t like it. Names, dates and events were boring. Who cared about who, what, where, and when? All that mattered was how the construct performed.

    Aera seemed incredibly unimpressed by her fathers announcement. She considered Hunter with a frown, and Hunter felt himself tense up.

    Well, he had wondered what she was like. He figured he could already see how this was going to go. The scorn, then, would go both ways.

    He fixed his attention on Trey. If this was how she was going to be, then she wouldn¡¯t matter. He figured he could find plenty of reasons to avoid being around her. The mansion was a big place, and for the next couple of weeks he can spend as much time alone in his room as possible.

    ¡°To that end, over the next few weeks we will have you conduct a crash course on all the areas of knowledge you will need to know before you attend the academy. We¡¯ve hired an excellent teacher who you¡¯ll be spending about 7 hours a day with. Obviously, over a half decade worth of education won¡¯t be satisfied within the span of weeks, but we¡¯ll cover as much as we need to in order to get you on the right foot when your courses at Barnum begin. These classes will be supplemented by daily tutoring sessions with Aera,¡± he said, to the surprise of Hunter and Aera both, ¡°who will also be teaching you the basics of self defense, as martial arts is a part of Barnum¡¯s mandatory curriculum. Any questions?¡±

    ¡°When do we begin?¡± Aera asked.

    ¡°Tomorrow. We¡¯ll give Hunter the day to settle in and prepare himself.¡±

    Aera nodded and stood.

    ¡°Will that be all?¡± She asked.

    Trey rose an eyebrow, and they seemed to share some sort of unspoken conversation.

    ¡°That¡¯ll be all,¡± he said. Aera walked out of the room, her pace implying an eagerness to be anywhere else but in that room.

    ¡°She¡¯s a very busy young woman. How about you, Hunter?¡± Trey asked once she¡¯d left, ¡°Any questions?¡±

    ¡°My AR deficiency has influenced my bone and muscle growth. I¡¯m a lot weaker than most my age, I''m not sure if I¡¯ll be well suited for martial arts.¡±

    Trey frowned.

    ¡°Of course, despite your impressive performance during the competition, you were working with quite the handicap. I hadn¡¯t realized it also effected you physically, which is an oversight I shouldn¡¯t have made. You have my apologies, however, I still believe it will be in your best interest to learn how to defend yourself. Surely your time at the museum has convinced you of something along that line as well.¡±

    He remembered how pathetic and powerless he¡¯d felt the previous day.

    What if part of the reason he hadn¡¯t grown stronger was because he¡¯d never really tried?

    ¡°Maybe its worth a try,¡± Hunter said with a sigh.

    ¡°That attitude will get you far in life, Hunter. Now that that¡¯s all out of the way, why don¡¯t you fill me in on what happened yesterday? Its too bad Aera isn¡¯t here to listen, but that¡¯s her loss, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Hunter shrugged, not wanting to state what he was thinking about the man¡¯s daughter, figuring that it was best to keep things civil.

    He took a deep breath before starting. He still felt uncertain about the whole experience, some parts were all a blur. The whole thing felt so surreal. He¡¯d survived a terrorist attack. He had helped save lives.

    There was a strong inner voice that criticized that thought.

    What if making the construct put them all in more danger than they would have been in otherwise? What if, instead of helping, he¡¯d made things worse, somehow? What if the destruction that the Force explosion had caused had been totally unnecessary?

    There was no way for him to know. Plenty of people had told him that his quick thinking helped innocent people live, but did it? He kept his doubts to himself as he told Trey what he remembered from the incident. Trey seemed impressed, and smiled when Hunter told him how much of an impression Sly had made on him.

    ¡°Syler was one of the youngest members of the Oberon Guard to ever be brought into our special operations division, and even at such a young age he¡¯s already one of the most decorated officers I have had the honor of employing. But after dozens of successful operations, he decided he wanted to try something a bit quieter. His assignment to you was meant to be relatively low-key compared to what he¡¯s used to.¡±

    ¡°Low key, huh?¡± Hunter laughed.

    ¡°Yeah, but to be fair, even the life of an Oberon isn¡¯t normally as exciting as it has been for you over the last couple of days,¡± Trey said, and then he sighed.

    ¡°You know, Hunter, i¡¯m aware of how much you¡¯ve been going through over the last little while. And I wouldn¡¯t have put so much work on your plate if I didn¡¯t think it was all necessary, you know that right?¡±

    Honestly, Hunter had been kind of pissed when Trey told him that he¡¯d need to spend the next couple of weeks studying. And tutoring sessions with Aera would probably turn out to be just as unpleasant as he was imagining they would.

    But he¡¯d agreed to achieve a degree of Excellence at the academy. He knew it was necessary, he just didn¡¯t like it.

    ¡°I get it,¡± Hunter said, ¡°I¡¯ll do my best.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Hunter. Now, i¡¯ll leave you to spend the rest of the day however you wish, on the condition that you don¡¯t stray too far from the estate. After yesterday, we¡¯ll be playing it safe,¡± Trey said, standing up to leave, ¡°Just ask any of the house staff to show you around if you get lost. This house can be a bit of a labyrinth if you aren''t used to it.¡±

    Hunter thanked him, and enjoyed the solitude of the room for a few minutes before he set out to find his assigned room. As far as he knew, this would be the only time in the next few weeks when he¡¯d be able to do what he wanted, and he planned to make full use of that.

    Stewart appeared just as he was leaving, and he informed Hunter that the alterations to his room had all been finished ahead of time. He escorted Hunter to his new room, and Hunter was immediately in love with it. It was incredibly spacious. The workbench was similar to the one he¡¯d been using during the competition. The bed was massive, almost three times the size as Hunters¡¯ old one in Seckina. True to form, the room featured a large window with a similar view to the one that he¡¯d seen in Trey¡¯s office.

    The room was like something out of a dream, or a high-end real estate magazine. He had a full walk in closet and ensuite washroom that put the hotel¡¯s to shame. He had his own jacuzzi tub, a double sink nested in a marble countertop. The shower was massive and Hunter was relieved that he wouldn¡¯t have to hunch over to clean his hair.

    ¡°I trust you¡¯re satisfied, sir?¡± Stewart asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s perfect,¡± Hunter said. He remembered the room back in his old house, on the Koar estate. It wasn¡¯t even nearly as great as this one. But what that room had lacked in size and sheer luxury, it made up for in being cozy and private.

    Luckily, the big window had sliding blinds that Hunter was quick to close. He would spend the next few hours focused on work, and nothing else.

    He¡¯d earned it.

    Stewart dismissed himself as Hunter settled in, unpacking what little belongings he had and sitting at the desk. He installed the third arm, and hung the rest of his tools on the small tool-board attached to his wall. He checked the drawers of the workstation and was disappointed to find that the machine tools that he¡¯d had in the competition weren¡¯t installed on this one, which made sense. He figured he wouldn¡¯t need them, anyways. Most of his work from here on out would be weighted towards research.

    He reviewed his mental table of synergies, and decided that now would be a good time to record them. Then a small and quiet voice told him that he couldn¡¯t afford to risk anyone finding it, especially here. Those thoughts had been present back in Seckina too. The neighborhood hadn¡¯t been safe, and he¡¯d listened to that paranoid part of himself because it was pragmatic to do so. Who knew what the Comics were capable of?

    Now, he felt worried that Trey¡¯s would have people watching him, waiting for any sign that he¡¯d produced something the company could use. Maybe the paranoia wasn¡¯t serving him very well in this situation. Maybe he was thinking too much.

    But maybe he wasn¡¯t, and that possibility was enough to convince him to continue to keep his research locked deeply inside his own mind.

 Chapter 24

    Thinking about locking ideas away brought his attention to the briefcase. He had put it under the bed, figuring he¡¯d probably forget about it for a while, but just then he realized that he actually had some new ideas for unlocking it. He also realized that the only parts he had to experiment with were some of the batteries he¡¯d originally taken with him. There were some basic parts stashed away that he could use, but he could wait a few minutes to plan out exactly what he wanted to do.

    He wanted to sketch out the idea for a cylindrical ether battery that incorporated both his crosshatch pattern and a way to vary its output. He also had some notes he wanted to take about Force constructs that he¡¯d thought of during the competition, and when he was at the museum. There was a lot of interesting things in that maintenance room, but it was the personal shield he¡¯d heard the Oberon Guard confiscated which had grabbed his interest. It was such an interesting idea. A shield he could carry with him, one that would cover his body.

    How the hell would he even go about designing it? Would the field be shaped? Would you have multiple shaped force fields surrounding the individual? How did you account for how their body moved? The only thing he could think of was that whoever was behind the design at access to glyphs he didn¡¯t know about yet, glyphs that had a strange and very useful effect on forcefields.

    There was currently no way to alter the shape of a forcefield while a construct was active¡ª not that Hunter knew of, and he was pretty sure that such a development would be huge news, unless it was at the bleeding edge of etherium research, in which case it made perfect sense that it would be kept as secret as possible.

    Not that it would matter anymore. Trey probably had a research team combing over the tech at that very moment.

    He refocused before the unsolved mystery became too much of a lasting distraction.

    He sat on his bed with the briefcase, and tried to remember all he could from the tale of the Journeyer. He deeply regretted the fact that he hadn¡¯t brought a camera to take his own pictures of the paintings. He was sure he could find some photos if he searched around some libraries. Maybe Trey could help him with that. He almost wished that he had some way to access some publicly available database on demand. It would make his work so much easier.

    He figured that would be a huge undertaking though. What company would want to carry the financial burden of installing all that infrastructure? It was kind of ridiculous notion, a utopian fantasy. An interconnected network of information, freely available to anyone who wanted to use it

    He laughed at himself. What a silly idea. But who knows? Maybe one day someone would invent something like that, as hard as it was to believe. Wouldn¡¯t the ancient Asutnahem think similarly of being able to fly in ships, and leave the world behind them?

    He fiddled with the keypad, running his fingers along the alphabet. He had no idea how many characters the passcode would require. There was no option for numbers. He¡¯d tried his name, his fathers name, the name of his deceased mother, the month he was born, the city he was born, the names of various glyphs. The list went on, and on. At this point, it was nothing more than a game to him. He never really expected to open the briefcase. All the obvious words had been used, and there were a lot of languages in the world. Finding the right word would be like finding a needle in a very large haystack.

    He wasn¡¯t sure he cared to find the needle.

    The contents of the briefcase were a mystery¡ª he''d guessed that they might be books, or some cash. He''d softly shaken the briefcase once, and those were the only guess he could come up with.

    At first, he¡¯d felt a burning desire to discover what was inside, but over time he¡¯d grown at peace with the ignorance. Coming up with ever-stranger ideas about its contents was almost as much of a game as trying to guess the right word.

    The first word he remembered encountering in the Asutnahem exhibition was their symbol for peace. He used the corresponding keys on the lock to type it in. No reaction.

    He thought about the statue, and he remembered a mention of the Asutnahem symbol for balance.

    The briefcase remained locked.

    He made his way through the various paintings, trying various synonymous for self, knowledge, power, truth, discovery, hostility, reflection, eyes, and even tried peace again just in case he spelled it wrong the first time.

    Nothing. The briefcase stayed stubbornly shut.

    Then he tried ¡®invitation.¡¯ Still nothing. Flame also didn¡¯t cause the briefcase to open.

    He remembered the final symbol he¡¯d noticed, the symbol for revelation. Hunter sighed, getting tired of the game.

    He typed it in, and the keypad beeped.

    The briefcase clicked open.

    Hunter froze. For a moment he had no thoughts, he didn¡¯t even breathe. The mansion seemed dead quiet.

    He¡¯d done it.

    He slowly opened the briefcase, hardly believing what was happening. The briefcase was filled with small books. Journals, all bound together in groups. The very first one he saw, which was a single journal on top of all the rest, had a simple title.

    For Hunter.

    Hunter had just remembered to breathe, but all of a sudden his breath caught, his throat tightened.

    He was nervous.

    That was his fathers handwriting. He hadn¡¯t seen it for years.

    But who had brought left the briefcase in front of his home in the first place? Who had gained access to his fathers stuff?

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    If it wasn¡¯t Trey, could it have been Jimmy? He probably would have said something, right? Unless this was all part of a conspiracy, which he genuinely couldn¡¯t discount the possibility of.

    But he was smart enough to know that paranoia was paranoia¡ª just because he couldn¡¯t discount the possibility, didn¡¯t mean he had to believe it entirely. So far, Trey had proven himself to be reliable.

    So he took a deep breath and carefully picked up the journal.

    He opened it to the first page.

    ¡°My dear son, if you¡¯re reading this, it means that I''m gone. My demise is not a surprise to me, and I''ve hired some reliable people to deliver these to you if I¡¯m not around to do so myself.¡±

    Tears hit the pages, and the ink started to run. Hunter wiped his eyes and tried to still his shaking hands.

    He¡¯d wanted nothing more than to talk with his father one more time, to be able to say goodbye, to tell him how much he loved him. To tell him that no matter what anyone said, he still believed in him.

    This wasn¡¯t quite the same, but it felt so close. He felt like his father was there with him, in that room.

    He continued reading.

    Ever since you were born, you struggled. I had hoped that your physical handicap would resolve itself as you got older, but it never did. But despite your handicap, you were always so intelligent and driven to learn and create. You remind me of myself when I was young. So curious, so bright eyed and ambitious. When I saw in you the same spark of sensitivity to etherium that I have, I knew that you were destined to walk a similar path. I knew you would come to see depths and possibilities in etherium and constructs that no one else can.

    But your affinity never rose. Your sadness when your first Affinity Rating results came back broke my heart. But I had hoped that with time, your rating would naturally rise. You¡¯re my son after all, and my Affinity has risen to heights I hadn¡¯t imagined were possible. I was so sure that you would eventually blossom.

    Yet your AR remained infantile, but your intellect and your will to create never faltered. I love that about you, Hunter. I¡¯m so proud of you¡­

    ..but I couldn¡¯t stand to see you suffer. I resolved to discover a way to help you. No matter what. You might wonder why i¡¯ve been so absent from your life. You might resent me for my distance, but it wasn¡¯t because I didn¡¯t value you, it¡¯s not because I loved you less than my work. You were the reason why I worked so hard. You inspired me to go deeper than I ever have before.

    Hunter remembered the day his father promised him to find a way to help him increase his AR. He was so ashamed of himself back then, a lot more than he was now. When he was younger, he hadn¡¯t known that there was a way forward. He had almost lost hope.

    His fathers promise had been a balm, it soothed his fears and let him focus on his interests. Soon after, he would start to see his father a lot less frequently. He would spend days, weeks, and sometimes months in his lab. Hunter grew used to the isolation, and the assistants his father had used as a proxy to keep Hunters life organized, but he never blamed his father. If anyone understood, it was Hunter. They were the same.

    Etherium called to them, and spoke to them in a way that it didn¡¯t speak to anyone else.

    ¡°..maybe I went too deep. Maybe i¡¯ve seen too much. It¡¯s my deepest pleasure to pass these journals on to you Hunter, because they not only detail my work, my theories, my plans, they also reveal the method I''ve developed to dramatically accelerated the growth of Affinity in an individual¡­¡±

    Hunter was speechless. He¡¯d actually managed to do it?

    But it was impossible, right? Hunter given up that dream so many years ago, even before his father had died.

    ¡°¡­I don¡¯t have any reason to believe that you will have any problems with practicing the method, which I''ve named the Etheric Arts¡ª In fact, the only problem I think you¡¯ll have with the Arts is the choices I made in order to develop them¡­¡±

    He didn¡¯t want to read any further. He started to set the journal down, but then he felt a sudden urge to continue.

    He couldn¡¯t stop. He had to know, no matter what it meant.

    No matter how he¡¯d feel about it.

    ¡°¡­it¡¯s in these few fleeing moments of clarity that I can see what I''ve done, who I''ve become, and I sometimes regret the decisions that have led me here. But its too late to change the past, my hands are already stained in blood. My obsession seems to drive me beyond reason at times. All those lives taken, yet the faint sense of regret never lasts for long. I¡¯m sorry, Hunter, this isn¡¯t how I wanted you to find out. If I had my way, you never would have learned about this. But you have to understand, in order to see you live your life to the fullest, I would do anything, I would stop at nothing¡­¡±

    He regretted ever having gone to that museum. He regretted ever wanting to feel close to his father, he regretted the curiosity that had driven him to keep trying to guess the right passcode to this cursed briefcase.

    He wanted to throw the journal across the room. But he felt so utterly weak. He didn¡¯t bother wiping away the tears, he didn¡¯t try to avoid the pain in this chest, or the burning in his throat. He couldn¡¯t have.

    All of a sudden he could do anything but sit there and cry.

    He¡¯d been wrong.

    His father hadn¡¯t been who he had thought he was. For all those years after his fathers death, to everyone who¡¯d ever said anything ill about Gideon Koar, Hunter had defended him. He¡¯d defended a murderer.

    After a few minutes, he started to calm down. Hunter couldn¡¯t help but feel like he wanted to know more. He needed something, anything, to justify what his father had done. Nothing ever could, and he felt like an idiot for searching, but maybe he was an idiot.

    After all, everyone else had seemed to accept the obvious about his father. Why hadn¡¯t he?

    Another episode of grief threatened to rise, but he pushed it aside as best he could.

    He flipped to the next page of the journal. What followed appeared to be the insane scribblings of a madman.

    ¡°¡­I¡¯ll spare you the details of what I had to do in order to develop these methods. They aren¡¯t relevant. The sacrifices I made were necessary. A few deaths in exchange for countless lives? For your life? Maybe its a consequence of the man I''ve become, but it¡¯s a trade that I have made in a heartbeat. I didn¡¯t hesitate to do what I had to do. I hope you¡¯ll understand¡­¡±

    ¡°¡­I saw something once I passed the first internal threshold. There is a darkness somewhere out there Hunter. Beyond the world. I can feel it within me, now. What is the power of an ant before the combined might of the Council? Take that contrast and amplify it a hundred thousand fold. That is the darkness we face, that is the horror I am trying to save us from. We are as ants, we are as dust in a vast cosmic wind, and believe me: we will be swept away. It will be the end of everything, Hunter. The end of the world. The end of time. I¡¯ve seen it. You have to believe me¡­¡±

    Hunters life had never been at risk. Had his father really thought that he was actually saving lives by killing?

    ¡°¡­but maybe you won¡¯t. I understand how this sounds. What matters is that the Etheric Arts work. The year I decided to commit myself to this task, my AR was 102. I was among the 99th percentile of humanity¡­¡±

    Hunter had always guessed about what his father¡¯s AR was. He¡¯d never been open about it before.

    Now he knew, and he found that he hard trouble caring. So what? What good was all of that Affinity, if it belonged to a mad man?

    ¡°As of this morning, my AR now measures in at 283. Do you see now why I¡¯ve taken these steps, Hunter?¡±

    ¡°283,¡± Hunter whispered. It couldn¡¯t be possible. His father was a lunatic, delusional. He ought to close the journal, burn the rest of them, and forget he ever saw them.

    But, he knew he couldn''t. Not yet.

    Yes, his father was clearly out of his mind, having spiraled down a moral and psychological hellhole.

    But what if?

    What if he wasn¡¯t wrong about what he¡¯d done? What if his father wasn¡¯t delusional about this?

    He shook his head.

    It didn¡¯t matter. What his father had done was wrong. It wasn¡¯t worth the possibility. What if the Arts required someone else as a sacrifice?

    He closed the journal, put it back in the briefcase, and hid it under his bed.

    He¡¯d figure out what to do with it before he left for the academy.

 Chapter 25

    Hunter laid on the mat, afraid to get back up. A predator stalked him, every twitch of his body tracked, assessed, and ready to be leveraged against him. His body had never fully recovered from the day at the museum. He¡¯d been carrying a minor exhaustion since the competition, and he wished he could take a few days to rest in bed. The stewards could bring him everything he neededAlas, the sessions with Aera had started, and to Hunter, she was a storm. She was fury incarnate. The psychic weight of her dreadful cognizance was akin staring down the barrel of a 10-ton war machine.

    Hunter didn¡¯t feel the need to prove himself. He¡¯d come with his mind set on just getting through the session, and maybe learning a thing or two about himself and the world he was about to dive into. And he had learned something, even if it was just how much of a beating he could safely endure.

    The session started how he always imagined a class in martial arts would start. Stretching, a small warm-up which left him feeling like he¡¯d already had a full workout, and that¡¯s when Aera started to complain to him about his inadequacies.

    ¡°You need more endurance, we¡¯ll focus on that.¡±

    Then they practiced punches, kicks, and blocking for a few minutes each, stopping when Hunter was clearly getting too fatigued to continue.

    ¡°You definitely need more endurance.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not strong enough.¡±

    ¡°When was the last time you exercised?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t remember,¡± he¡¯d said between a couple of heaving breaths.

    ¡°Never learned how to fight?¡± She asked.

    ¡°Never,¡± Hunter said.

    ¡°So you don¡¯t know how to take a hit?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve always been something of a pacifist,¡± he¡¯d said, ¡°I¡¯ve broken more of my own bones than I care to count. I¡¯m a bit more fragile than most, so I try to avoid fights.¡±

    Aera sighed.

    ¡°Then let¡¯s begin.¡±

    Hunter then learned how to fall. Again, and again.

    She¡¯d positioned a crash-mat for him to practice with, and he experienced all the unique ways that a body could be thrown through the air. She was careful not to tear his arms out their sockets, but he¡¯d felt like they¡¯d come close a few times. He¡¯d raised an objection, of course. His logic was simple, if he¡¯s too injured to train, they would have to delay more of these wonderful sessions until he recovered.

    Aera shook her head, saying that they would proceed on the assumption that his fragility was on account of never having taken measures to become stronger. Hunter had been incredibly skeptical, and as the ¡®training¡¯ went on, he¡¯d realized with ever more regretful clarity that Aera wasn¡¯t interested in making him stronger. She only appeared interested in punishing him. He¡¯d ask her what her deal was, but he was afraid he already knew. She was being forced to spend her precious time with the son of a killer, with a dreadfully low AR and an equally fragile body to match it. She was used to hanging out with celebrities, politician¡¯s children, and probably following her father around to high-level corporate board meetings, learning how the movers of the world made the world move.

    Impressive people were her baseline. Hunter fell far short of that ideal, and he knew it. But he wasn¡¯t here to try and appease her, or impress her. He was here because her father had made him a deal that he¡¯d be stupid to refuse. As he laid on the mat, feeling like every inch of his body from the skin to the depths of his bones had been disassembled and put together in a more painful combination, he considered just how committed he was to holding up his end of that deal.

    If this was how the next couple of weeks were going to progress, he wondered if he¡¯d be able to retain his motivation.

    The academic stuff was easy. Boring, but compared to this, it was like heaven. He had no problem (beyond the obvious) with looking at textbooks for hours on end, memorizing useless information to the best of his ability. Unlike Aera, his other teacher actually seemed like he wanted to be there. Although, he had been unimpressed with Hunters attention span. And in his defense, his mind was distracted at the best of times. But after reading his fathers journals, he found it even harder to focus. He did his best to forget about them, but he¡¯d find himself thinking about them soon after. That was different while he was here, though.

    The pain and exhaustion was enough of a distraction. It would almost be pleasant if it weren¡¯t for the fact that he was being subjected a psycho¡¯s temper tantrum. The stoic distance he¡¯d seen in her before seemed to morph while he got to know her a bit better. Where he once saw disinterest, he now saw hostility. In fact, it was almost worse than hostility. It was more like an malevolent curiosity.

    It was almost like she was trying to gauge the extreme limits of what he could endure, questing for the exact amount of torment she could inflict in the hour and a half they were scheduled to meet for.

    Every day.

    And now, all he could think about was how just a single day with Aera was already far too much.

    ¡°We¡¯re done,¡± Aera said, out of the blue. Hunter strained to glance at the clock at the entrance of small studio building which was detached from the main Oberon compound. Still technically part of the estate, but about a 10 minute walk from the mansion.

    There was still 40 minutes left in their session.

    ¡°See you tomorrow. Don¡¯t be late.¡±

    Hunter groaned.

    Aera grabbed a duffel bag she¡¯d brought with her, and left. Hunter tried to sit up, but he couldn¡¯t. His abdomen complained, completely unable to support his bid to move.

    So, with great effort, he slowly rolled off of the crash mat, barely catching himself as he finally got off the mat and onto his hands and knees. He pushed himself back until he was sitting upright on his legs.

    He swore he could close his eyes and fall asleep, right there. But the crashmat was a poor substitute for his incredible bed and he refused to spend a minute more than was necessary in this torture dungeon. Hunter slowly stood, his muscles protesting the strain. He stumbled his way to the door, but remembered that he¡¯d brought his own bag as well, stumbling over to it and fetching his water bottle. He attacked it with the desperation of a man who had just survived a trek through a desert. The relief was almost enough to make him collapse, but he held strong.

    Hunter was proud of himself for making it through the crucible. He hadn¡¯t let the demoness break his spirit. In fact, after reading his fathers journals, he¡¯d felt consistently frustrated throughout the day, and his time with Aera had seemed to drain the stress out of him.

    Who knew that being a combat dummy could be so therapeutic? However, just because the edge of anger he¡¯d been feeling was gone, doesn¡¯t mean the sense of disappointment, shame, and grief had left with it.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    In fact, the more he thought about it, the worse he felt. But he was tired enough that he felt it all at a distance, enough of a distance to keep him moving and focused on placing one foot in front of the other, out of the studio, and down the dirt road leading back to the mansion.

    It was still light out, and although it hurt to move, and the autumn wind felt frigid against his sweat-soaked clothes, he had to admit that the mountain was beautiful.

    ¡°There¡¯s probably worse places to have your life turned upside down,¡± he said. A flock of birds flew overhead, crows from the sound of it. He imagined that their squawking was like a chorus of laughter.

    ¡°At least the birds enjoy having me around.¡±

    <hr>

    He¡¯d had no trouble falling asleep that night. Nor the nights following. Waking up sore became routine, and going to bed feeling like he had developed a new layer of bruising over his old one had proven to be a challenge, but he also found it to be encouraging.

    It was the oddest thing.

    The more he was abused, the more he realized that he could keep going.

    His strength wasn¡¯t improving, nor was his endurance. Every fall hurt more than the last, and his limbs were constantly on the edge of being torn or broken. Maybe he was being dramatic, but he was genuinely surprised that he was able to show up day after day. After a week went by, he felt that he was starting to feel something change. He could throw a few more punches, a few more kicks, and take a little bit more punishment. Aera¡¯s blows would get a bit more forceful, and the sessions would last a little bit longer.

    Not enough to appease her wrath, but enough for Hunter to realize that maybe she¡¯d been right. Maybe a lot of his physical weakness had come from not trying to become stronger. He¡¯d heard a word for something like that¡ª was it conditional apathy? Learned apathy? He¡¯d never felt the motivation to improve his physique, to try and grow stronger, to learn how to properly punch, kick, fall, and be hit. Why would he?

    He was fragile.

    Or at least, he was supposed to be.

    But what if he didn¡¯t have to be?

    What if he didn¡¯t have to be limited, held back, disadvantaged, handicapped?

    After the longest tutoring session yet, Hunter found himself back in his room, sitting on his bed, but he wasn¡¯t falling asleep. He couldn¡¯t, as his mind finally had enough energy to remember everything it was worrying about over the last little while.

    He was thinking about his fathers journals.

    Having a higher AR could solve everything for him. His physique would probably improve. He would be able to learn more, and do more. He would be faster, stronger, and have more energy. And if his AR would just keep rising the more he practiced, would there be a limit to how strong he could get?

    What would he be capable of his his AR was in the 200¡¯s? What if he could go higher?

    300 AR? What would he be capable of doing if his AR was almost three times higher than the highest recorded?

    At Aera¡¯s rate of development, she might one day hold the new world record. She would officially have the highest known AR in history.

    But unofficially, would she ever come close to what his father had claimed to have accomplished?

    The possibility was staggering, and the implications were only now starting to take root. This could change everything. This could change the world.

    If the measurement of one¡¯s AR dictated their level of health, strength, and longevity, what had his father been capable of before he died?

    The more he thought about it, the more questions he had. What if those questions were answered, and the answers were written in the journals sitting right under his bed?

    He shook his head.

    It wasn¡¯t worth it. The cost of those journals contents were too high.

    But, what if he didn¡¯t practice the method? What if, instead, he just read them with the intention to understand?

    He closed his eyes, and took a breath. He wanted to go to sleep. He wanted anything other than to think about his father right now.

    Or, at least he should, right?

    He got out of bed, pulled out the briefcase, and then sat back on the bed.

    It¡¯s not too late, he told himself. I can just push it right over the edge, back onto the floor, and go to sleep.

    But he already knew that he wouldn¡¯t. He pulled the briefcase closer, and unclipped the latches on its side, and opened it.

    There was a knock on the door. Hunter froze, and then sighed. He closed the briefcase, and put it back on the ground beside his bed.

    ¡°Yes?¡± he asked, raising his voice so he could be heard from the other side of the door.

    The door opened slightly.

    ¡°Mr. Koar, I apologize for disturbing you at this hour, but the parts you¡¯ve requested have all arrived.¡±

    Hunter blinked. He completely forgot he¡¯d ordered parts. He glanced at the workbench in the corner of the room.

    ¡°Yeah, you can bring them in,¡± he said. Stewart opened the door all the way and a couple of his staff helped him carry the parts in. He directed them to leave them by the workstation. They were done in less than a minute. Stewart wished him a good night, and then left.

    Hunter snickered.

    He considered the briefcase again, but he was starting to feel that sweet pull to the dream world. Maybe it really was best if he just left it, and never opened it again.

    That night, Hunter dreamt that he was running through a dark forest. Beautiful, bioluminescent flowers would captivate him, drawing him close. And always, just before he could reach out and touch them, the ground beneath him would give out, and he would fall.

    <hr>

    ¡°It¡¯ll have to do, I guess,¡± Aera sighed as their final session concluded. Hunter heaved in deep breaths, unconcerned with the wheezing whine he made when he breathed it all out. Sweat pulled beneath him as he leaned over, clutching the ends of his shorts just above bony knees.

    He¡¯d learned that Aera rarely seemed to listen to him when he spoke. She was always dead-set on her own agenda¡ª namely, making Hunters life a living hell for the short time they saw each other.

    The final few days he¡¯d learned that it was best to stay quiet, and do what he was told to the best of the ability. When she was inevitably disappointed with his progress and decided to express that with violence in the form of ¡®coaching¡¯, he would do his best to remain conscious, and keep his body as intact as possible.

    He had bruises all over, and he¡¯d felt pain like never before, but it was finally over.

    ¡°You think this is bad?¡± She asked, somehow knowing exactly what he was thinking, ¡°Barnum will be worse. I¡¯ve done what I can to prepare you, but you¡¯re on your own from now on.¡±

    She grabbed her duffel, and walked towards the entrance. This time, instead of just leaving, she looked back.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what dad was thinking when he brought you in Hunter, but do your best not to make our family look like a joke.¡±

    If he expected the words not to sting, he was wrong.

    ¡°Will you get over it?¡± he asked. He regretted it as soon as he said it. Last thing he needed was to turn the disapproving psycho into an angry psycho.

    In for a penny, he thought, ready for her to tell him just how little she thinks of him.

    But instead, she just glanced at him with the same stoic indifference, and left. Hunter couldn¡¯t tell if that was better or worse than a direct response. Maybe the lack of a response was a direct response.

    His sigh was loud and tinged with annoyance. He grabbed his bag, grateful that the small bit of strength he¡¯d gained over the last three weeks had allowed him to only feel a slight wobble in his legs as he hefted the bag over his shoulder. What was once a slow shuffle home was now a mere labored walk.

    He¡¯d done it. Trey had been right, he really just needed to force himself to get stronger. He could take Aera¡¯s punishment longer than he could a few weeks ago, and he was still in one piece. She had pushed him, day after day and it was almost like she knew the condition of his body well enough to know the perfect time to crank up the pain and suffering she could inflict by another notch.

    It¡¯s like she had found the perfect balance of punishing him for intruding on her life, and actually helping him. Although, if she was at all pleased with his progress, she had declined to tell him. But Hunter felt that although they never really spoke to each other, save for her instructions during the session, he was really starting to get to know his new ¡®sister.¡¯

    She had pride in spades. She¡¯d been given a job to complete, and she did it. Hunter was under no illusions about his ability to fight. He was still incredibly weak compared to most his age, but now he knew that in a controlled setting, he could take a hit.

    And Barnum would probably be nothing but controlled settings. He figured that if the rich and powerful were sending their kids away from home, they¡¯d want them to be as safe as possible. So, the academy would probably go the extra mile to ensure that sparring was done fairly. Hunter knew he would never win a fight in his life, but he would do his best to lose with dignity.

    Besides, his focus wasn¡¯t on earning Excellence in the martial arts. His gameplan was simple, and predictable. He would earn his Excellence with constructs. He would do his best to pass the academic courses, which shouldn¡¯t be too hard. He felt that he was slowly but surely catching up to others his age. The coursework had been cherrypicked¡ª only the most important information from each year would be covered over the course of a day or two. Hunter had found some of the subjects fun, especially math. There was a beauty and reliability to the subject-- a predictability and completeness that he wasn''t able to find in artisanship. The latter craft was far too young compared to math, which had been around for thousands of years.

    He considered the progress he made in the last few weeks, and decided that all told, he was allowed to feel some pride at how far he''d come and what he''d allowed himself to have.

 Chapter 26

    He hadn¡¯t looked at the briefcase even once since he¡¯d almost given into the temptation of reading through its contents, a couple of weeks ago. He figured that he was getting stronger, he was learning more, and that was enough for him. He was starting to realize he could forge his own path forward. He would not step in his fathers footsteps. The only thing they would have in common is etherium, constructs, and a last name.

    Yet, he still couldn¡¯t find it within himself to get rid of the briefcase.

    Even if he couldn¡¯t even stand the thought of his father anymore, it was all that remained of Gideon Koar. His last will and testimony, in a sense. Could he just throw that away? Maybe he would keep the briefcase around as a reminder, a symbol. What that symbol represented, he didn¡¯t know. Maybe it meant being careful about who you trust, and who you admire. Who is he willing to defend, and why?

    He wondered if he was lying to himself. Maybe, deep down, he actually wanted to read those journals. It was a temptation he¡¯d have to watch. It would be far too easy to give into it¡ª especially when he considered his lacking AR to be one of his biggest flaws. Instead of bringing it to Barnum, he could leave it here, under his bed. Maybe someone would find it and open it, reading its dreadful contents. Maybe Oberon Enterprises would find in it a treasure-trove of knowledge, just as he secretly expected Trey had wanted all along.

    All they¡¯d be doing is showing him more of what he already knows. The world he was stepping into was one where there would be no one that he could trust. Everyone is going to have an agenda.

    It¡¯ll be like a whole school full of David Nettles.

    He only needed to survive that sort of environment for three years. Three years of studying, crafting constructs, and getting the shit kicked out of him, in exchange for the rest of his life. Worse case scenario, he holds the Oberon name and makes a decent life for himself. Best case scenario, he¡¯ll be on a ship headed outworld in order to explore the universe.

    Either way, he wins.

    Since his studying and tutoring sessions were finally done, he would have the next two days to himself. He planned on finally getting around to designing and creating the improved battery, and experiment with shaped forcefields. He would lose track of time, barely sleep, and then wake up from his manic fugue-state, already halfway to the academy.

    It was going to be great.

    Stewart found him later that afternoon, and informed him that Trey was requesting his presence for dinner that evening. Hunter affirmed that he¡¯d be present, and looked forward to trying on some of the new clothes that Stewart had bought for him after taking his measurements. Hunter had decided that if he had access to money, he might as well spend it. And why not spend it on looking good?

    Stewart had asked him what he had in mind, and Hunter told him to get whatever he thought would be best. The old steward snorted and accepted the request. To Hunters pleasant surprise, the current fashion seemed to be leaning towards the old-fashioned. He looked like an aristocrat from a century ago with his gold-trimmed vest which he wore atop an intricately stitched dress shirt.

    His dress pants and shoes were more of a modern style, and the whole assemblage reminded him of the mansion itself¡ª a mix of old and new. He had a few such suits, and Stewart assured him that the combination had a quality to it that transcended the various trends of fashion, which is what brought Trey to incorporate it wherever he could.

    Hunter was grateful he hadn¡¯t been in charge of selecting his own wardrobe. He wouldn¡¯t have done half as good of a job.

    Hunter decided to caffeinate before dinner, unless he wanted to run the risk of falling asleep mid-meal. The last few weeks had drained him to a point that a single night of good sleep couldn¡¯t quite fix. He felt that it would take time to get back to normal, whatever that meant these days.

    The dinner itself was held relatively early, which Hunter appreciated. It meant that he¡¯d probably have time to play at this workstation for a couple of hours before bed.

    The dining room Trey had selected was closer to the center of the mansion, and lacked the grand views that he had come to expect. What it lacked in windows, it made up for in an impressive amount of portraits adorning a significant fraction of the wall space in the room. A large, ornate chandelier hung from above, its glow bathing the room in a yellow glow¡ª or at least it appeared so. If he were to guess, it was an effect of the intricate golden designs painted between the portraits scattering the light. It wasn¡¯t unpleasant, but it was definitely taking him a second to adjust to the atmosphere the effect created.

    Hunter was showed to his seat, sitting across from Aera. Trey was at the head of the table to their right. Hunter was glad to see that he wasn¡¯t overdressed. Trey acknowledged his appearance with a nod.

    ¡°You¡¯re finally growing into your new role,¡± Trey said, as the house staff began to enter the room with dome-lidded trays. Aera made a polite sound of agreement. They both took their napkins and placed them on their laps. Hunter followed suit, having grown used to the ritual. He didn¡¯t understand why they wouldn¡¯t just use them like normal people did. He figured it was another eccentric habit of the social elite.

    Trey reaching for food was the sign that Aera and Hunter could follow suit and fill their own plates. Hunter was starving, so he didn¡¯t mind piling on as much food as he could handle, and a bit more that he would end up taking to snack on throughout the rest of the evening. Aera looked that the pile of food he¡¯d made for himself and muttered something, but Hunter couldn¡¯t make it out. Neither could Trey.

    ¡°What was that, love?¡± Trey asked Aera.

    ¡°I said he¡¯s worked up quite an appetite,¡± said Aera, without missing a beat.

    Hunter almost snorted, but he kept his composure as best he could, hiding his intense frustration by a taking a large bite out of a croissant.

    ¡°He sure has!¡± Trey said with a customary exuberance that Hunter didn¡¯t know how to source. Was he naturally this energetic and passionate about mundane things?

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Hunter, Aera was just telling me about the progress you¡¯ve made. Despite your doubts, it looks like you¡¯ve come a long way in a short three weeks. I hear that you have also performed adequately during your academic catch-up,¡± Trey said.

    Hunter shrugged. He wondered how exactly Aera illustrated their tutoring sessions to her father. He imagined there was quite a bit of protest on her part, about the necessity of their meetings. Indeed, the look on Aera¡¯s face as Trey spoke seemed to imply that he was leaving out a few things.

    Hunter felt tempted to outright to tell him what he really felt about his time with Aera, but he¡¯d already committed to trying to keep his relationship with his patron as cordial as possible.

    ¡°She said that? Thanks, Aera,¡± Hunter said, turning to Trey, ¡°She has such a busy schedule, we never had time to talk after the sessions. I¡¯m curious about what she thinks about my progress.¡±

    Trey waves his hand at Aera, an invitation to speak.

    ¡°Hunter showed remarkable fortitude. I¡¯m impressed by his persistence and commitment to improve.¡± she said. She even seemed to mean it.

    If she was making any subtle insults, he couldn¡¯t find them. It doesn¡¯t mean they weren¡¯t there. He could almost justify thinking she was saying that he was really good at taking a beating.

    ¡°All credit goes to the coach,¡± Hunter laughed, ¡°She knew just how far to push me.¡±

    Aera raised an eyebrow in response, probably wondering whether she should take his comment at face value.

    ¡°I knew you two would get along,¡± Trey smiled before taking another bite. They were all silent for a while. Maybe Trey didn¡¯t realize just how awkward this dinner was becoming.

    ¡°You know,¡± Trey said, ¡°I¡¯m so impressed by how this little experiment has gone, that I''m tempted to make it a regular thing.¡±

    Hunter froze while cutting into some steak. Aera slowly faced her father. Neither spoke.

    Trey seemed oblivious to their reactions, his eyes captivated by the operation he was performing on his own plate.

    ¡°Yeah, the more I think about it , the more it appeals to me. I see no disadvantage of having you both bond further, and Hunter, you¡¯ve clearly benefited from your time under Aera¡¯s tutelage. I mean,¡± Trey flexed, but he was still holding a fork, and a piece of meat fell on the floor. He didn¡¯t seem to notice. He used the fork to point at Hunter, ¡°You seem to have put on a couple of pounds of solid muscle mass. How do you feel?¡±

    Sore, Hunter wanted to say, but he paused and thought about his answer. Trey was exaggerating. Hunter saw himself in the mirror every day¡ª he was as match-stick thin as ever. Except for a few points, especially in his legs, and maybe his abs, where he could swear that he saw a small bit of growth or increase in definition.

    ¡°I¡¯ve noticed some improvements¡± Hunter said.

    ¡°And do you think you¡¯re ready for the Academy?¡± Trey asked.

    No, Hunter thought.

    ¡°As ready as I¡¯ll ever be,¡± he said. Trey nodded, satisfied with the answer. They finished their meal, with Trey asking a few questions about their plans for the next couple of days before they leave for the Pacific Shield.

    ¡°I had some ideas during the competition that I''ve been wanting to play around with,¡± Hunter said.

    ¡°Oh? Care to share? I did tell you about how well Hunter did at the competition, didn¡¯t I?¡± Trey asked Aera.

    ¡°You did, yes,¡± she said.

    Trey turned to Hunter, waiting for him to elaborate. Hunter didn¡¯t really want to, but it would feel weird if he didn¡¯t say anything.

    ¡°I wanted to try a new battery design, and I''m interested in learning as much as I can about shaped forcefields.¡±

    Aera cleared her throat.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡± Trey asked her, ¡°Something to say?¡±

    ¡°No, nothing,¡± Aera said, ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±

    Trey turned back to Hunter.

    ¡°I used to love listening to your father ramble on and on about his ideas. I never understood much beyond the absolute basics, which didn¡¯t account for much. But a man driven by a vision, by passion, by devotion, that is something worth being around. It¡¯s like a fire, and you can¡¯t help being lit up as well. Passion is contagious, Hunter,¡± Trey said, his voice growing quite sharp near the end.

    Hunter marvelled at the man¡¯s ability to work himself into a fervor. It was almost like a rage, yet it was nothing like anger. His eyes seemed to hold the flame he was talking about.

    ¡°I¡¯ll try to remember that,¡± Hunter said. He wasn¡¯t quite sure how to respond to the sudden intensity Trey displayed. He belatedly realized trey had mentioned his father. Trey seemed to genuinely treasure the memories they had shared.

    He almost wanted to tell him about the journals.

    Almost, but not quite. It would be a bad idea for many reasons. First of which was the fact that he wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to so drastically transform this man¡¯s view of his oldest friend.

    The second, was the still silent but faint possibility that Hunters usefulness to the man would cease once he got his hands on all of Gideon Koar¡¯s remaining work. Hunter needed his value to remain in perceived potential, a potential for Trey to continue to invest in, so that it would be actualized to Oberon Enterprises¡¯, and the Oberon family¡¯s, highest interest.

    On the other hand, he¡¯d love to see Aera¡¯s face when he told her he had in his possession a potential method of accelerating the growth of AR, but the cost wouldn¡¯t be worth the prize. Even if it did promise to revolutionize the way people lived.

    The increase in longevity alone would be enough to change society forever. The increase in strength would help people take full advantage of that longevity. That was all based on the condition that the method itself didn¡¯t require some depraved sacrifice of human life. Who knows what depths his father sunk to in order to fulfill this obsession?

    Hunter shook his head. He had suddenly lost what remained of his appetite. He waited for the other two to finish, and Trey finally dismissed them. Hunter almost got lost trying to find his way back to his room, having never visited this part of the mansion before. A steward pointed him in the right direction.

    Sunset was still about an hour away, when he returned to his room. He sat on his bed and thought about what was to come, and what he¡¯d gone through over the last little while.

    He was honestly surprised he hadn¡¯t quit. There were a few times over the last few weeks where he¡¯d felt tempted. Aera was almost too much to handle, and cramming years worth of education day after day had taken a mental toll as well.

    Not to mention he was having nightmares about the museum. He¡¯d asked about getting in touch with Sly, but apparently he was taking a vacation.

    More had happened to Hunter in the last month than he¡¯d been through in the last decade, and he didn¡¯t know how he was holding it together. If he had to point to any single source, it was a stubborn unwillingness to deviate from the path he¡¯d set himself on. He recognized the stubbornness, but it was almost like he was charging head-on into uncertainty, and that the circumstances just kept reinforcing that momentum.

    He kept telling himself that he¡¯d made it so far in such a short amount of time, he might as well keep going. He¡¯d survived so far, so maybe he¡¯d make it through the next few years just fine.

    There was also the possibility that he wasn¡¯t holding it together at all, and that he¡¯d already snapped. Maybe he was one more tutoring session away from turning homicidal.

    After all, it had happened to his father. What¡¯s to stop it from happening to him as well?

    He had a flashback to the final round of the competition. David Nettle had asked him if they needed to worry about Hunter turning out to be like his father.

    Hunter remembered what he¡¯d said out of complete reflex. He remembered the intent behind it, that he¡¯d only been joking.

    I guess we¡¯ll just have to wait and see.

    But what if there was something else, under the joke? What if a part of him really wanted to hurt David, and the people like him, who had decided to make his life harder than it needed to be?

    That¡¯s when he realized that he hadn¡¯t been completely honest with himself up to this point.

    It wasn¡¯t just the price his father had forced others to pay in order to complete his work which made Hunter feel so averse to indulging in what his father had left behind for him, it was the fact that Hunter didn¡¯t know what practicing the Internal Arts would do to himself. What if it caused him to become like his father?

    What if the Internal Arts was the reason his father became so twisted?

 Chapter 27

    A man of Trey¡¯s occupation could often find themselves growing tired of their offices. It was a high-stress job. There was a lot of pressure that came with being at the top of the hierarchy. Trey didn¡¯t mind the pressure, he¡¯d been dealing with it in one way or another for his whole life. He pulled the sweet, earthy smoke from a cigar he¡¯d been enjoying over the last half hour. He blew it out in a ring, and watched it expand as it travelled towards the window. He watched it dissipate against the grey autumn sky.

    He loved that trick. He smiled to himself as he put away the papers he had been skimming. He heard a knock at the front of the office. Mrs. Verilian¡¯s signature double tap. Was it that time already? He loved his daughter¡ª the life of a Council Seat was busy and making time to be present with her was challenging, but it was a challenge he didn¡¯t avoid. It was important to him that he was present in her life.

    But she was the scion of a great family. She was a future record holder, a tremendous athlete, an incredibly intelligent young woman, and she knew it. On their own merits, those weren''t so bad. What gave him pause was the fact that she was a teenager. And like many her age, she believed she knew better than those who raised them.

    It was a particularly difficult age to navigate as a parent, because he knew that she would one day be an adult, tackling with regrets and habits she¡¯d fostered as in these years which would set the foundation for the rest of her life.

    Still, his heart, having trended towards growing colder in recent years always warmed a significant degree when he was able to spend time with her. So he stood and made for the large double doors to meet with his favorite guest. Opening the doors, Mrs. Verilion stepped to the side, revealing the frowning form of his daughter.

    He beamed at her. She was the spitting image of her mother. A bit more athletic, a bit more arrogant. But she has the same inquisitive focus, it gave her a fierce look and one day when she was leading a meeting with a dozen ambitious subordinates, all jockeying for position and distracting her with their pet projects and opinions, such a gaze would cut through their dreams like a hot knife through butter.

    But until then, all it did was serve as a means to glare her disapproval.

    Teenagers.

    He wanted to laugh, but that would come later. He knew why she was here, and he had a strategy in mind for dealing with her complaints. Laughing would lighten the tone of this conversation a bit too much. He had a point to make, and he knew exactly how to make it. His daughter had learned much from him, but there was a gap which nothing but experience could fill. She might be bright, but compared to him she was nothing but a predictable child.

    ¡°Aera, so good to see you. Come in, come in,¡± he said. Mrs. Verilion raised an eyebrow at him, her silent way of asking if her presence would be required. He shook his head. She smiled politely and closed the doors behind them as they Trey led his daughter to sit on the sofas.

    ¡°Coffee?¡± he asked, pouring himself a cup. Aera shook her head.

    ¡°More for me,¡± Trey said. Four sugar cubes, and enough cream to make the purest of clouds connipt in envy. He sat opposite his daughter and sipped the heavenly beverage, sighing in bliss.

    ¡°So,¡± Trey said after waiting for the warm feeling in his chest to settle. He realized he¡¯d left his cigar on his desk by the window, ¡°You¡¯re here about the tutoring sessions.¡±

    Aera rolled her eyes. He smirked.

    Should he go get the cigar?

    ¡°Am I so predictable?¡± she asked in an exaggerated, dramatic tone.

    ¡°Frankly, yes,¡± Trey said, ¡°You know I raised you, right?¡±

    ¡°So¡­¡± she said, which he assumed was teenage-speak for asking him what his point was.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t changed my mind,¡± Trey said, deciding that he was rich enough to just light a whole new cigar altogether.

    She crossed her arms and frowned.

    ¡°I get why you brought him in. I already told you I thought it was a mistake, and nothing he¡¯s done over the last few weeks has changed the way I feel. The benefit he can bring us pales in comparison to the damage he can do to our image, our legacy. For heaven¡¯s sake, he¡¯s the son of Gideon Koar ¡ª¡±

    ¡°Careful.¡±

    Aera winced. She¡¯d have heard that tone before, in board room meetings, when he¡¯d be sitting face to face with powerful men who would like nothing more than to see his family and company forgotten by history. Its the kind of tone he used when he was ordering a man¡¯s life to be ruined.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Aera said, seeming to choose her words a bit more cautiously, ¡°all i¡¯m saying is that at best, it¡¯s not a good look. And at worst, well, you¡¯re the one whose always going on about how important our reputation is to the companie''s future, especially now.¡±

    Trey pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn¡¯t like being the bad guy. He liked to think that his daughter was wise beyond her years. Many lessons he¡¯d had to learn over the years had been painful, and he always hoped to spare his daughter the same pain. It was the kind of pain that came with regret, from mistakes made out of sheer naive ignorance.

    But Aera was a very proud young woman. He¡¯d raised her that way¡ª because it would serve her. A weak willed heiress will not inherit the family¡¯s fortune or position. She needed that pride. She needed every ounce of emotional advantage she could get in order to fight the battles she was going to have to fight, one day.

    But there was still that gap. Experience and maturity came with learning about certain realities. And this was as good a time as any for her to start learning.

    He once more considered his strategy for addressing this. Bridging this divide would be important for both Aera and Hunter. Bringing Hunter into the family was no small thing. Despite what his daughter may think in her episode of frustration, the family name meant a lot to him¡ª but reputation was always a fickle thing. Sometimes you had to learn that the only way forward is to take steps backwards. Reputation ultimately served the family, not the other way around.

    If a temporary hit in reputation meant the family would benefit, then reputation be damned.

    That had been his first consideration, and it made the stakes of this conversation¡ª and what he assumed would be a few similar conversation in the coming months and years¡ª very clear. Hunter and Aera would have to learn to trust each other, and work together.

    The life of a Council Seat was filled with more gambles than he¡¯d prefer, but it came with the territory-- it was business.. And the woman his daughter would grow into was also his business. The company could not afford a spineless leader, nor could it afford for her to grow into an ignorant, immature narcissist. His job was to find the balance between reinforcing her confidence, and kicking out the foundations of her arrogance¡ª or at least corroding those foundations, letting life take on the role of the teacher she¡¯d need in order for her to become the woman the company and family would need in turn.

    It wasn¡¯t up to him to change her mind. Trey preferred to influence someone over the long run. It all starts with a seed, and it was one that he¡¯d already planted, it just needed a bit of watering.

    ¡°You know what¡¯s more important than reputation?¡± he asked.

    She shrugged and shook her head.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t hear you.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± she said, her annoyance and frustration manifesting as a tension in her voice, ¡°what¡¯s more important than reputation?¡±

    He took another sip of coffee, and after he placed his cup on the table he leaned forward, sure to slowly enunciate every sound, tapping his finger against the table to emphasize every syllable.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°In-teg-rit-y.¡±

    ¡°But that¡¯s exaclty what i¡¯m trying to¡ª¡±

    ¡°No, not the integrity of our image. Aera, you really are quite a brilliant young woman, but there¡¯s so much you don¡¯t know. How much have I told you about my time with Gideon Koar?,¡± he asked, using the same tone of voice she¡¯s used to disrespect the man¡¯s name.

    ¡°You¡¯ve only told me that you two started a few businesses together when you were younger, and that you became good friends.¡±

    He nodded.

    ¡°To be more accurate, he saved my life, and then we became good friends.¡±

    Aera¡¯s eyebrows furrowed.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    He hid his smile, letting the small warmth of victory he felt when a plan started to come together. The bait had been taken, and it was time for phase two.

    He laughed, and enjoyed another sip of his coffee.

    ¡°What I mean is that I was quite the hothead when I was younger. I thought that, because I had money, because my father was seated on the council, that I was practically invincible. Sound familiar?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Aera muttered.

    ¡°Of course not,¡± Trey said with a smirk, ¡°I had taken advantage of the good will of some of the less fortunate in our society. I¡¯d hired them to work in a warehouse, and thought it would be a brilliant idea to cut their already meager pay in half. I didn¡¯t think anything of it. I was who I was, they were who they were, it would be their privilege to serve me for any amount of money, wouldn¡¯t it?¡±

    Aera¡¯s frown deepened. By now, she¡¯d be making the connection with the character he was illustrating and many of the young men and women she likely made associations with.

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound like you,¡± she said.

    ¡°That¡¯s who I was encouraged to be, when I was your age,¡± Trey said, ¡°and those men and women, whose pride I had trampled over¡ªwhose lives were already difficult enough as it was and were made more so by myself and my youthful narcissism¡ª had decided to take my fate into their hands. They demanded I pay them what they were owed, and when I refused, they beat me,¡± he said.

    He still felt the fear from that day, over four decades ago. He took a breath to steady himself.

    ¡°Gideon stopped them. He¡¯d been hired before¡ª dirt cheap, he needed the money to pay his way through school. He would come by once a week, maintain our constructs, fix what was broken, that sort of thing. Well, that day happened to be the day he was scheduled to visit. It wasn¡¯t like I''d treated him anymore fairly than I had the others, but for some reason he decide to pull them off of me, and convince them to leave me alone. I still don¡¯t remember what he said, all I remember was the feeling of relief from being saved.¡±

    ¡°I still don¡¯t get what this has to do with with me and Hunter,¡± Aera said.

    ¡°Children these days, always so impatient. I¡¯m telling you I was almost beaten to death,¡± Trey sighed, exasperated by his daughter¡¯s behavior over the last few days, ¡°and to your point; i¡¯m getting to that.¡±

    He took another sip of coffee, realizing he¡¯d almost drank it all already and pouted. He stood to grab some more, talking as he walked.

    ¡°He hailed me a cab, and we found our way to a hospital. This was before cellphones, and the landline in the warehouse hadn¡¯t been working, so he held me up and kept me warm while I shook from remnant adrenaline and more pain than I had ever felt before. I was furious, Aera. I was talking about getting revenge. I could have had them all killed,¡± he said, sighing. He wasn¡¯t proud of who he¡¯d been back then.

    ¡°Gideon explained their point of view to me. I didn¡¯t really get it, but it made some sense in an abstract way. I¡¯d miscalculated how much they needed the work, and what they¡¯d be willing to tolerate from me. The way he explained it, he made me realize that the only person I had to blame was myself. To be honest, I¡¯d never taken the time to consider who the people I''d employed were, the kind of lives they lived, and what a cut in pay would mean for them. Most of them were supporting children and wives, and there weren¡¯t a lot of jobs to go around during those days. Such pay cuts weren¡¯t uncommon, and they¡¯d had enough. Similar sentiments had been brewing all over the domain¡ª and others.¡±

    ¡°Let me guess, he then went the extra mile and opened your eyes to the world of the less fortunate, awakening your heart to a new way of seeing the world?¡± Aera rolled her eyes again, exaggerating her disinterest and looking at the surrounding books with a board look.

    ¡°Another unfortunate quality of youth is the terrible habit of trivializing matters which are far from trivial. You mistake your immature attitudes for wisdom. Yes, he helped me see the world in a new way. He introduced me to other brilliant people, children and adults, and and others who weren¡¯t so brilliant but had the kind of passion that would keep them working for days on end in order to better the lives of the people they loved. They worked harder than people I grew up around and some of them weren¡¯t even a quarter my age. And you know what?¡± he asked, pausing to make sure his daughter was paying attention.

    ¡°What?¡± she asked with a sigh. Trey figured she was tired of being lectured to, but she needed to hear this.

    ¡°He didn¡¯t have to do any of that. Ask yourself, if you were him, what would you have done?¡±

    Aera was about to respond, but the look in his eye was gave her pause. She knew better than to push his buttons when he got like this.

    She tilted her head, considering the question. Then she shrugged.

    ¡°I guess I would have pulled them off of you as well, but I''m not sure I''d have stuck around after getting you to a hospital.¡±

    Trey shook his hand, indicating that he thought she was on the right track.

    ¡°If you were them, if you¡¯d grown up in the same circumstance, and tended to hate the rich and powerful as much as they were tempted to, then you wouldn¡¯t have stopped them.¡±

    ¡°So what? You¡¯re saying Gideon didn¡¯t hate you for being rich?¡±

    ¡°Oh, he most certainly did,¡± Trey laughed, ¡°If there was one thing Gideon despised, it was the rich¡ª especially the offspring of the rich. But he was the kind of man who was willing to put that aside if it meant he could change a life. Do you understand how rare that is? No, don¡¯t answer, I¡¯ll answer for you: No. You don¡¯t. You couldn¡¯t possibly, because you¡¯re far too young and inexperienced to begin to understand just how important it is that most people are not only unable, but unwilling to do so,¡± Trey said, letting the frustration he was feeling about his daughters¡¯ behavior rise to the surface.

    He could see his reflection in the glass covering a rather nice painting he¡¯d bought years ago. His face had been growing red as his temper rose a few degrees.

    Good, he thought. Maybe it¡¯ll help sell the point.

    He sat back down, exaggerating the acts of calming himself down. A deep breath in, holding it for a second, and a deep breath out. He lit the cigar he''d taken out earlier, and took a long drag, savoring the flavor before blowing it out softly.

    ¡°Not only did Gideon Koar save my life, he saved me from the man I would have become if I had not learned just how lost I was to my own ego. Yes, we started businesses, most of which failed. And yes, we became great friends along the way. But the lessons we both learned, the impact that we made, ripple through the world to this day. We taught skills to people who never would have had the opportunity to learn them otherwise, which allowed them to transform their communities. They started businesses which have gone to make millions, even billions of credits. We helped transform countless lives, all because Gideon decided to give me a chance, a chance which-- by all appearances-- he had no reason to think would bare any sort of fruit, and came at a considerable cost to his own reputation,¡± he said, practically spitting out the last word.

    Trey sighed, satisfied that he¡¯d said what he needed to say. Aera was looking at him with open skepticism, but she wasn¡¯t protesting his words out loud.

    He¡¯d done what he could to steer her in the right direction. He¡¯d have to trust that life would show her the truth of what he¡¯d said. And now that he¡¯d said it, she¡¯d be more open to learning a lesson that had almost killed him.

    Although she clearly wasn¡¯t happy with the way the meeting turned out, she seemed to accept that she wouldn¡¯t be changing his mind. Trey told her she was free to go about her business, and she thanked him for seeing her. If nothing else, she knew how to appear polite.

    He suspected that not only would she have a thing or two to learn from Hunter, but maybe Hunter could learn a thing or two from her as well. He knew how his daughter could be, and he imagined that she hadn¡¯t made it easy for the young man. But Hunter had seemed genuinely proud of himself for having made it through the last few weeks, and Trey was relieved that his own gamble had paid off. He was eager to see just how far Hunter would go during his time at the Academy¡ª if he could rise above the challenges that he¡¯d be presented with.

    He knew it wouldn¡¯t be easy, though. The children of his peers often lived without much in the way of consequences¡ª they were like ravenous wolves to those who they saw as lesser beings. After all, he''d been just like them once upon a time.

    Barnum would be a crucible for the children. He would have to trust that Hunters sheer stubborn tenacity, and the loyalty that he himself had instilled in Aera would be enough to bond them together¡ª and he had a suspicion that such a bond would be nigh unbreakable once it began to set.

    Hunter would always be a Koar, and Trey wouldn¡¯t have it any other way. But Hunter was now an Oberon as well.

    That would mean more than wealth, power, and status ever could. Since it was Trey¡¯s turn to steer his family¡¯s future, he would ensure that being an Oberon would mean having integrity. And if Hunter had the potential to be anything like his father, then Trey would rest assured that the boy would fit in with the family line just fine.

    Aera would come around, in time. He just knew it.

    Fathers knew these things.

    He took another drag of his cigar, and then remembered that he¡¯d made himself another coffee. He chuckled as he drank it. It was still warm.

    It was the small things that always got him through the day.

    He stood and stared out the large window of his office, considering the gray sky, sipping the coffee and reviewing his plans¡ª many of which he wondered if they would ever see completion.

    There were troubling undercurrents rippling through the Council strata. Whispers of chaos that might require a very drastic action on his part¡ª one which he¡¯d already started to prepare for. Large movements of money and personnel. New ships being constructed at new, hidden shipyards, built with the family¡¯s private resources¡ª resources the company had no access to, or ways of tracking if he was careful enough.

    The light of the phantom sun was fading. Soon, the dark would swallow up the sky, the mountains, and the valleys.

    Yet the moon would cast silver linings upon the clouds, showing all those who care to see that even before dawn breaks, there is light.

 Chapter 28

    Just as Hunter had predicted, the weekend flew by in what felt like a matter of hours. He hadn¡¯t had a time to really immerse himself in his work after the competition, and he was surprised to find just how deeply he could lose himself in it without the pressures of having to work, or having to worry about the Comics showing up at his door with a potentially fatal ultimatum.

    He¡¯d had fun, and he felt like he¡¯d learned quite a bit. Shaped forcefields were complex, and difficult, but he was starting to understand the theory a bit more intimately. He was still quite a ways away from being able to produce one himself¡ª years away. But he was optimistic that it was just a matter of time. His synergies would advance, his experience would grow, and he would continue to innovate in ways no one else could.

    It was what he was good at, and he¡¯d be damned if he didn¡¯t juice that for every ounce it was worth while he was at the academy.

    He could already feel himself on that ship, leaving the world and its dramas behind. It was just one degree of Excellence away.

    Hunter soon forgot about the academy. He forgot about Aera, Trey, the competition, and the museum. He forgot about his dream of leaving the world, and and making a name for himself beyond it. All that existed for him was the strange song that etherium sung, its shifting desires, and how to best make use of them.

    It was Stewart who had pulled him out of his fugue. Hunter had barely slept over the last few days¡ª caffeine and sheer passion, curiosity, and twice as much frustration kept his unwavering focus on his work. He hadn¡¯t heard the man knock, or enter the room, or walk across it to tap him on the shoulder.

    If the man was at all disturbed by the pale, bloodshot eyes that met him, he showed no sign of it.

    ¡°I¡¯ve come to inform you that you will be leaving for the Pacific Shield in just over an hour,¡± Stewart said, glancing around the room, ¡°would you like some assistance with packing?¡±

    Hunter shook his head, painfully tearing his mind away from the complex matrix of networks he¡¯d been so comfortably lost in for the last who-knows-how-long.

    ¡°I should be fine,¡± Hunter said. Stewart nodded, and informed him that Trey had requested to see both him and Aera just before they departed, and that Stewart and his staff would pack away all of their luggage into the van that would take them to the airport. Hunter agreed, and spent the next few minutes gathering everything he would need.

    As he packed, he was informed that he would be given his own private accommodations at the Academy, warranted by his status as an Oberon. He would have private laundry, so he wouldn¡¯t need to worry about packing more than he would need in a week or two.

    Hunter brought all of his new fancy clothes, and some of the simple shirts and pants that Stewart had supplied him with after upgrading his wardrobe. He wouldn¡¯t need to be all dressed up all the time, and it would be nice to have something more casual to wear when he was just at home, which he imagined he would spend most of his time when he wasn¡¯t attending courses.

    Hunter was nervous about having to leave, but he was also excited. If he¡¯d proven anything to himself over the last month, it was that he could do anything he set his mind to. The academy would probably be nothing like the competition. His life wouldn¡¯t be in danger, and apart from having to take a beating a couple times a week during the mandatory martial arts classes, Hunter was confident that his life at Barnum would be a breeze.

    He met with Trey and Aera in the same room they¡¯d received him in almost a month ago. Trey had some finger foods prepped, and Hunter attacked them with vigor. He hadn¡¯t realized how hungry he¡¯d gotten. When was the last time he¡¯d eaten?

    ¡°Aera and I had a nice chat last night, and she¡¯s quiet eager to get back to the tutoring sessions. We¡¯ve also decided that it would be in both of your interest to addend a period of artisan tutoring in turn.¡±

    Hunter paused, mid-bite. Did he hear that right?

    ¡°You mean, you want me to tutor Aera?¡±

    ¡°To learn is to teach, to teach is to learn. I expect you¡¯ll find the experience to be quite enriching, both of you.¡±

    Aera seemed to share Hunter¡¯s utter lack of enthusiasm at the prospect.

    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Hunter asked, unable to help himself.

    ¡°Call it intuition. It¡¯ll be great, trust me!¡± Trey said, his unconditional enthusiasm and encouragement causing Hunter to involuntarily smile. He shook his head.

    ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll just have to trust you then,¡± Hunter said. He didn¡¯t believe a word that came out of his mouth, but what was he going to do about it? It sounded like Trey had already made up his mind. Besides, maybe Hunter would be able to show Aera that just because he wasn¡¯t as strong as her, that didn¡¯t mean he was useless.

    Trey fished out a piece of paper from his pocket and read it out loud for them.

    ¡°Now, a few rules I''d like you both to take account of before you leave. 1) You will be supplied with a very small allowance every month to pay for necessities which aren¡¯t provided by the school. Beyond this allowance, the family¡¯s money will be out of reach for both of you unless its an emergency. 2) You will both continue to attend the tutoring sessions regularly, the only exception being immanent school projects or extra-curricular events which demand your evening¡¯s time. 3) You will each earn at least a single degree of Excellence, any extra earned will be rewarded quite similarly to our initial agreements. Last but not least, rule 4) You will have each others backs,¡± Trey said, folding the piece of paper and putting it back in his pocket. Hunter didn¡¯t see Aera¡¯s reaction, but Trey gave her her a look which might mean that she was having some strong thoughts about those rules.

    Hunter was interested in hearing what Aera had been promised for earning Excellence. Wasn¡¯t she already heiress to one of the most powerful organizations in the world? What more could she ask for?

    And how was Hunter supposed to have Aera¡¯s back?

    Despite his doubt, he agreed to Trey¡¯s rules. Before they left, Trey gave Hunter a small box. Hunter opened it up and saw a black onyx signet ring, with the Oberon family crest etched in gold. His name was also etched along the edge of the ring.

    ¡°Rings like these have been passing around the family for generations. They serve as both a gift, and a reminder. You have the authority and privilege of an Oberon, but you also have the responsibility that comes with it,¡± Trey said, his voice solemn, but his smile was still genuine.

    Hunter tried to put it on his finger, but it wasn¡¯t thick enough to secure the ring in place. Trey asked an attendant to find a thin, chain-link necklace. He threaded it through the ring and told Hunter to wear it as a necklace instead.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine as long as you carry it with you. Who knows, maybe one day you¡¯ll grow into it?¡± Trey said. Then he wished them good luck and bid them farewell.

    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    Hunter was pleasantly surprised to find Barry waiting for them at the front of the house. To Hunters delight, he led them both to the Kellese. He said that their luggage was being sent ahead of them, and that if the timing worked out, they would find it waiting for them inside their new accommodations.

    Hunter was excited, and found that the sheer pleasure of riding in the Kellese, and the being able to travel in an airplane for the first time in his life was outshining the brooding shadow beside him. Aera was her usual, quiet self as Barry drove them down the mountain, through the city, and to the capital airport. Hunter was wondering if he should expect a sea of reporters to meet them there. Whenever he saw the Oberon family out in public, news would show them trailed by a long line of flashing cameras and curious pedestrians.

    He was almost disappointed to find the airport to be relatively calm-- not that he had any idea of how busy airports typically got. People pooled all around them. Talking, reading, lining up for tickets. It didn¡¯t take long for them to be recognized. And despite Hunters¡¯ tendency to shy away from attention, he felt slightly mollified. Although he probably couldn¡¯t take the credit as being the source of the steadily increasing attention they were receiving.

    Aera stood out¡ª her signature hair and athletic build would be eye catching enough to attract attention, but her face was probably more popular and recognizable than her fathers. He could tell that they recognized him as well, now that news of the newest member of the Oberon family had filtered out to the public.

    The son of the infamous Gideon Koar, now a part of the historic Oberon family, and third in line to inherit the role of monarch. It still didn¡¯t feel real to him. It made him something of a prince, but he hadn¡¯t really given that thought any weight over the last few weeks. He didn¡¯t know how to how to contextualize it, or what it meant for him. So, he didn¡¯t lose much sleep worrying about it all. Hunter wasn¡¯t interested in world-shaping wealth. He didn¡¯t need it, his interests were simple and straightforward, and he was happy for that. Great influence tended to bring out the worst in people.

    Maybe he, of all people, needed to avoid that sort of ambition. He didn¡¯t know what it would do to him, down the line. It might turn him into the kind of person who could justify just about anything.

    Hunter and Aera were led to a private hanger, where a small plane was waiting for them. Hunter couldn¡¯t feel any charged etherium running through it, so his interest in the plane itself was minimal. The specifics of its aerodynamics, lift, and thrust were subjects that were lost on him. As far as he was concerned, the Kellese was a thousand times more interesting. He¡¯d actually managed to get his hand on some printouts of the networks schematics for the vehicle. He¡¯d learned quite a bit from studying them, but neither Trey nor Barry were comfortable with Hunter taking the car apart to study it in person.

    From the schematics, he¡¯d found a lot to be impressed by. He¡¯d also found quite a bit that he knew he could improve. He figured he could knock down the AR requirement by at least 15 points, and could probably improve its performance quite a bit as well.

    Maybe.

    There was quite a bit about the vehicle he still didn¡¯t know. What the schematics didn¡¯t tell him were what the design philosophy behind the vehicle was, what their intention was, and what his alterations would do to negatively effect whatever ideal balance they¡¯d managed to achieve.

    It¡¯s not something he would have thought about before had he not been forced to study what he¡¯d missed in school over the last few years. Hunter was excited to learn more, and maybe one day he¡¯d be able to sit down with the people at Kreig and learn about how the history and process they went through to create such a masterpiece.

    Excitement blossomed in his chest. He was an Oberon now¡ª not a nobody kid who fancied himself an industry pioneer. Maybe this is the kind of thing that kept people attached to wealth and status. The opportunities it offered were second to none. He¡¯d pass on the head honcho¡¯s seat, but Hunter could get used to this sort of life; where crafting dreams was as real as eating tomorrow¡¯s dinner.

    A month ago, a meeting with the designers of a Kellese was something that felt like a wisp o fa dream, a fantasy, an ephemeral lie meant to trigger him into despairing about his barren future. The sudden inversion in circumstance felt like a perversion of the natural order.

    He almost laughed, but Aera was beside him. Even in his high spirits, he felt like he was always walking on eggshells around her. So he contained himself.

    They sat in opposite ends of the private plane, which Hunter was fine with. Soon, the plane drove itself onto the runway, and Hunter got to experience his first liftoff. It was exhilarating, and frightening.

    The world seemed to expand beneath them. Soon they were higher than the mountains, sailing through clouds. He imagined that this might be what it was like to be on a ship headed outworld. What would it be like, to keep going higher and higher? Eventually they would reach the terminus of the sky, where the world transitioned into the strange space between worlds¡ª where the cosmos painted in the sky would end, and the true space beyond would begin. He¡¯d heard it described like a sea of mist, which seemed both real and virtual. The mist would pass through the ship, through the crews body, yet it didn¡¯t cause any harm. The ship would then emerge into a vast blackness, with soft grey-white suns speckled throughout. Each sun would be another world, another contained realm which appeared to have a vast, yet unreachable cosmos beyond.

    Hunter was glad he wasn¡¯t around when the first ships sailed beyond the virtual sky. He didn¡¯t want to be one of the men and women whose livelihood was based on teaching about the galaxy they used to think that they lived in, and the universe of galaxy¡¯s surrounding them. But it made him wonder:

    Why?

    What did it mean, that the sky had an end?

    Hunter shook his head. That wasn''t the kind of question he would ever find the answer to. It was more practical for him to stay focused on more practical matters. Just because the sky they¡¯d known wasn¡¯t real, didn¡¯t mean that there wasn¡¯t a life to be lived beyond the world they called their home, beyond Sanctuary.

    The plane leveled out, and Hunter marveled at the view. The world still appeared to curve, with a horizon which constantly seemed to generate new details. More land, more sea, more trees, more buildings, more people. They flew past ships at varying altitudes, and Hunter took time to study each one that came close enough. They belonged to many different companies, some were Council Seats, some weren¡¯t. He even saw a few Oberon vessels as well, coming in from outworld destinations, either picking up cargo or dropping it off. Soon they would leave again, headed to a realm far from here. An entirely different, self contained world.

    He sighed.

    Eventually, the novelty of the view wore off. It was still beautiful, but there was only so much he could see before his mind naturally lost interest. It was what it was.

    It took them 10 hours to reach the Pacific Shield. Hunter caught up on some sleep during the time, and woke up to a world blanketed in night. A city was below them, lights and streets seemed to weave and cross like bioluminscent veins, reaching across the land.

    Over time, the city grew closer and closer. It was so odd, seeing the tops of skyscrapers beneath him.

    A flight attendant informed him that they would be landing in Costa Benne in about 20 minutes. Hunter stretched and ate a small snack which had been left for him while he¡¯d been snoozing.

    Costa Benne.

    It was supposed to be a beautiful place, and he regretted that they wouldn¡¯t be able to stay and admire it. He¡¯d never been to another continent, and had always imagined what it would be like to visit the more scenic parts of the Pacific Shield. Costa Benne would not be their final destination, however. After the plane landed, and once Hunter and Aera had disembarked, they met with another driver who said they¡¯d arrive at the Academy after a two and a half hour drive. Hunter asked them if they could grab some coffee and dinner along the way. To his surprise, Aera seconded his request.

    Was this progress?

    He glanced at her. She was staring out the window.

    Probably not.

    Wait a minute, Hunter thought, who cares?

    The driver, Alain, took them to a small family-run restaraunt where they had a small meal which Hunter had never had before. A small, flat, bread-like disc they called a ¡®tortee-ah¡¯, with had some pork, pickled red onions and carrots, and pineapple. It was delicious, a blend of salty, spicey, sour, and sweet which had blown his mind. Aera seemed annoyed by his reaction, and Alain had laughed. He told Alain that it was like nothing he¡¯d ever had before.

    Gideon had always cooked food which, compared to what he''d gotten used to at the Oberon estate, was incredibly simple and bland. Potatoes, meets, gravy''s, vegetables, those were what he''d come to expect before the Council had come and taken it all away. From then it was noodles, rice, potatoes, and even chicken if he was flush with cash. It turns out there was a whole world of flavor out here, and he hadn''t even known.

    Alain was overjoyed that he could introduce Hunter to authentic pacific cuisine. Hunter swore he would never go back to eating bland foods again. Their visit to the restaurant was all he could think about for a while. They found some cheap coffee on the way, and by the time he drank it, he managed to pull his mind to more practical matters.

    Namely, what exactly he wanted to teach Aera about constructs, and how he was going to do so without feeling like he was trying to feed a starving lion who wanted nothing more than to bite his head off.

 Chapter 29

    The Academy was just as grand as he¡¯d imagined. The main building was huge, and its architecture made it like a living historical artifact. The Illaic peoples had left behind a legacy of epic architecture which Hunter had always enjoyed. Grand pillars, open spaces, rounded angles. Barnum had been founded centuries ago. The modern era was all skyscrapers, concrete, steel, and glass. The founders of the academy must have found the architecture of the Illiac Empire to be something worth championing.

    The grounds that surrounded the main building, and the campus meant to support it, were all modernized. However, they were muted compared to the historical marvel that Hunter was excited to step foot in¡ª a marvel inspired by similar marvels built thousands of years ago.

    Great granite pillars supported intricate stone carvings. Symbolic stories, mythical figures, and he was sure there were plenty metaphors for improving ones self, and growing into a mature and responsible adult. What surprised him the most about the building was that the majority of its area was taken up by a park¡ª a large field which the building surrounded like an open-sky atrium. Statues, walkways, fountains, and benches were artfully arranged throughout the vast intermedia. The storied budling surrounding it had windows looking over the large space.

    Much of the campus was taken up by areas assigned to specific departments which were where their courses would take place. The main building served as more of a gathering place and the rooms looking over the park were typically used by the various clubs students and faculty organized. Hunter and Aera had arrived just after the school opened for the day, and they were led to a small office where their registration would be officially completed. They both presented their ID¡¯s, Hunter¡¯s having been updated during his time at the mansion. Hunter also presented his proof of sponsorship from the Oberon family, and Aera presented the invitation the academy had sent her.

    The academy also required an AR test. On the bright side, the test was private. The construct they were using to measure it was something new for Hunter. He assumed it functioned the same, but it was was much smaller, able to be held in one hand and totally light enough that even he could carry it around without much trouble. He¡¯d never seen something like it before. How had they made it so compact? He¡¯d have to try and get his hands on one sometime soon and uncover its secrets.

    The secretary taking the test seemed surprised by both of their scores¡ª and for different reasons. Hunter ignored the burning feeling in his face as he considered how low his result was compared to Aera¡¯s. He ignored the shame to the best of his ability, not willing to let Aera see any form of weakness.

    He was frustrated with his relationship with Aera as of late. His sudden insecurity around her was an unwelcome disparity to the indifference he wished to mirror back towards her. If she were David Nettle, Hunter would just focus on what he needed to do, doing his best to ignore the scorn. But lately, he¡¯d found himself trying prove himself to her. Just the previous night, he had caught himself trying to see her in a more positive light.

    He had been thinking things like: maybe her method of teaching hadn¡¯t been as malevolent as he¡¯d thought, and maybe she¡¯d really just wanted to help him get stronger. Maybe pushing him to the outermost limits that he could bare hadn¡¯t been akin to a predator playing with its food, but more like a blacksmith trying to cleanse the impurities from metal.

    Maybe Trey¡¯s optimism was starting to rub off on him.

    He¡¯d have to do something about that. He remembered how utterly unrelenting she was during their sessions. He remembered every cold, borderline hostile glance. He remembered the way she made him feel, and he suspected the way she was purposely trying to make him feel.

    Completely weak, unworthy, and pathetic.

    It was like a splash of cold water, how the memories woke him up. His embarrassment from the AR test didn¡¯t abate, but his consideration of Trey¡¯s daughter did. As far as he was concerned, any future interaction was purely business. He would teach her what she needed learn about constructs, and she would teach him what he needed to know about defending himself. He would put up with her abuse, because he knew that it would make him stronger. The ''coaching'' sessions had turned out to be a blessing in disguise¡ª maybe teaching her would turn out the same way. The thought made the prospect of having to spend more time with her an easier pill to swallow.

    After the test, they were both shown to their individual accommodations. They would both live in the same apartment building. The first 7 floors were dedicated to shared student dorms, and the top 4 floors would be for single-occupancy accommodations. Hunter¡¯s room was on the 10th floor, and Aera¡¯s was on the 11th.

    His apartment was the third suite down the hall, and he assumed that there were probably a half dozen more apartments on his floor. He was given his key and left alone to unpack and settle in. Hunter opened the door and found that the apartment was incredibly lacking after having stayed in the epitome of opulence for the last month, but it was his own space. It was nicer than his house in Seckina, and more spacious than the hotel he¡¯d stayed in during the competition. There was a full-sized kitchen, living room, and he was pleased with the size of the bedroom, with ample space to store all the stuff he was sure he would accumulate over the next few years.

    The room also had a decent view. There were mountains in the distance, and enough greenery to to avoid feeling like he was floating above a sea of concrete. He could actually see himself liking it there. The living room came complete with a small table, a couch, and a television. On the table was a list of all the courses he would be taking, the days of the week he¡¯d be taking them, and the time he¡¯d be expected to attend.

    There were surprisingly few classes. All of his academic courses would take up Monday and Tuesday. His Wednesday''s would be free, and his Thursdays and Fridays would be taken up by Intermediate Construct Artisanship, Foundations of Martial Arts, and the History elective he¡¯d signed up for. Fortunately, the martial arts class was scheduled after the history class, and the Construct class seemed to take up a full four hours on Fridays.

    He was relieved to see that he would have weekends free. He assumed that all the free time they were given would be for various projects, homework, and whatever jobs the students would take to support themselves.

    Hunter would try and get by on the allowance that Trey was affording him. He wondered if it would be enough to buy one of those testing devices they used to measure his AR. It wasn¡¯t like he needed much money for food, all of the campus¡¯s housing buildings came complete with a large cafeteria that provided food that was supposed to be both nutritious and relatively cheap. There were also plenty of small businesses catering to other needs the students might have, and many of them offered discounts subsidized by the academy.

    The allowance that Trey was offering would probably cover everything Hunter needed for a while, and he planned to put away a small amount each month to invest in his own interests.

    He found all of his luggage in his room. Hunter started organizing the luggage, and almost swore when he saw that the estate staff had packed his fathers briefcase in with the rest of his stuff. He hadn¡¯t touched it after pushing off his bed the night that he¡¯d considered reading through the journals. A small note was taped to the briefcase. It was signed by Stewart.

    I hadn''t been sure sure whether whether or not you had intended to pack this with the rest of what you intend to bring to the academy, given limited time you had to gather your things, I decided it was better to be safe than sorry. Please forgive any potential inconvenience.

    Hunter sighed after reading the note. He understood that Stewart was only doing his job, and it wasn''t like there wasn''t like there was nothing he could do about it. Hunter took the briefcase, still completely motivated to never delve into its contents, and placed it in the corner of his new closet. He placed the rest of the suitcases and boxes in front of it so that he would never have to see it for the next three years. If he couldn¡¯t leave it behind, at the very least least he wouldn¡¯t have to think about it.

    Out of sight, out of mind.

    He has a full day before classes started, and he decided he¡¯d use the following day to figure out where his classes would be held. He¡¯d heard nightmare stories about students showing up to the wrong rooms and lecture halls, or getting lost. He wanted to avoid that.

    He felt that he needed to make a good impression on the faculty. It might go a long way to helping him achieve his goals here.

    <hr>

    Aera tapped her finger on the table in annoyance and winced. Every time Jason Chan opened his mouth, she would feel a wave of annoyance which threatened to burn this bridge she¡¯d been carefully cultivating for years.

    The voice on the other side of the line was reedy and cracking.

    ¡°So, have you put any more thought into my offer?¡± the young man said. Jason was an old acquaintance. He¡¯d always been a bit shady, but having friends in low places could be useful. It was a lesson she¡¯d learned well from her father, and she¡¯d found that the advice had born enough fruit that she would always take the time to foster her connection with those among her peers which were a bit more morally gray.

    They were the same age, and as he was the scion of a particularly influential family in the LockeMark Domain, he¡¯d been sponsored to attend the academy the same year she was.

    That he was useful was the only reason she was taking his call. But recently, Jason Chan had amassed some very unfortunate rumors about himself. The kind of rumors that Aera would typically consider enough of an excuse to cut all ties with him. Unfortunately, she was dealing with the reality that she wouldn¡¯t be able to avoid him while she was at Barnum. Just because she found him and his lot to be something of a stain on society, it wasn¡¯t a stain she had the power to personally rub out. So if she couldn¡¯t get rid of them, she might as well take advantage of them.

    There were aspects to Academy life that weren¡¯t advertised, aspects that could spell a whole host of ruined careers and lawsuits, the kind of thing that people paid good money to keep quiet. Jason¡¯s family, and his associates, had found their niche is organizing and facilitating the unseen currents in Barnum¡¯s shadow. The Council and their subordinate company''s and family''s had a certain understanding about the expected code of conduct their scions and hopefuls would follow while they attended Barnum¡ª and its part of what made the academy so alluring to the established powers of the world. Even before the Council was founded, Barnum as considered the peak among institutions dedicated to fostering the leaders of tomorrow¡ª and not just for the coveted degrees of Excellence which could define one¡¯s life trajectory.

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    Those were mere trappings¡ª a company had many ways to scout and foster talent. A company¡¯s foundation was built on hard work and devotion. But for someone like Aera, and those of her social tier, the degrees were no more than another form of social currency. It was secondary consideration for their enrollment, as far as their parents were concerned. The primary reason was that the world¡¯s powers had fostered within the boundaries of the academy¡¯s campus a microcosm of the world stage. It was here that their aspiring and ambitious youths would have their first taste of competition against their rival interests.

    Every year, there was a struggle for dominance and prestige among the upper class attending the academy. However, this came with a condition. The moment you entered the campus, you were no longer allowed the protection of a personal security force. This meant that you had to face the consequences of your actions yourself. However, given the Chan¡¯s unique position, they had financial (and emotional) influence over much of the campuses businesses¡ª and Aera suspected the faculty as well. Unfortunately, she couldn¡¯t avoid dealing with them and refusing to do so would make her appear weak. She wouldn¡¯t be able to bully her way to dominance on campus, and with Jason this was especially so.

    His influence while he was at Barnum made him a hard man to refuse. That wouldn¡¯t stop her from stalling for as long as she could, however. Her father had told her that dealing with these kinds of people was like walking a tight-rope, but sometimes it couldn¡¯t be avoided. Not just for the sake of reputation, but the necessity of securing one¡¯s position in society. Turning a blind eye to the nefarious dimension of her culture would only create a blind spot she couldn¡¯t defend herself, or her family, from.

    Family which now included one Hunter Oberon Koar. She sneered.

    ¡°Aera, you there?¡± Jason asked.

    ¡°Yes,¡± she said, unable to stop the annoyance from bleeding through into her voice, ¡°and my answer is the same. If I change my mind, I¡¯ll let you know.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all I can ask,¡± Jason said, in what Aera assumed was meant to be a smooth and reassuring tone. Instead, it came across as creepy; ill intent was oozing like pus from a festering wound behind a mask of familiarity and friendship.

    There was something of the flavor of intuition in her judgement of his tone. She''d have to remember to keep her guard up around Jason Chan.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got a lot on my schedule, Jason. Our talks are always a pleasure, but if there¡¯s nothing else?¡± She said, knowing he¡¯d take the hint to hang up.

    ¡°Of course, of course. I¡¯ll be seeing you,¡± Jason said. She sighed after she heard the line shut with a click.

    Aera shivered, feeling like she suddenly needed a very long shower. That kid got worse by the year, and more dangerous, if the rumors are to be believed. And it was easy to believe them, Jason didn¡¯t hide the fact that he had no consideration for right and wrong. He was a sociopath, a smart sociopath. Opportunistic, but fair enough for the sake of his business reputation. His behavior would reflect poorly upon his family¡ª so if he committed to grievous a crime, he was sure to make sure that there was very little in the way of evidence to prove his involvement.

    He would treat you fairly at first, if he sensed an ounce of weakness from you he wouldn¡¯t hesitate to milk it for all it was worth. It had happened before. Jason had respect for her status, and the considerable resources that she and her father could move against a family like his if he were to ever cross the line with her.

    But her father had drilled the value of verifying facts for as long as she could remember. And since she didn¡¯t have much in the way of resources with which to verify or debunk the rumors surrounding Jason, she decided that she would go with her gut and take a cautious approach.

    Which, she had to remind herself, was not a weak approach. In all ways, she would project her power and status. She would be the leader of the Oberon family in the future, and by her hand the council seat would remain theirs, as it had for generations. So there was no room for weakness, both in image or action. Which brought her back to her new brother.

    The newest Oberon heir, not that she took the title seriously. Hunter was weak like Jason was mercurial.

    But he wasn¡¯t completely weak, she reminded herself. He had a strong will, and that had surprised her. She had expected him to fold after the first session. But he¡¯d continued, and he had shown some progress, though not nearly enough to convince her that he was worth anything remotely close to the privilege that her father had given him.

    Integrity, her father had said. In-teg-rit-y, enunciating every syllable. She¡¯d done her best not to flinch during his lecture. And she¡¯d be lying if she said that his words¡ª and the dramatic flair he was prone to deliver them with, hadn¡¯t given her something to think about.

    What would she have done, if she¡¯d been one of the workers who he¡¯d tried to screw over? Would she have stepped in to help, or to hurt the man who was trying to take away her livelihood, her means to support herself and the people she cherished?

    The more she thought about it, the less she liked the answer.

    What she¡¯d found over the weekend, ruminating over the lecture, was that she couldn¡¯t justify the actions of Gideon Koar when he saved her father, because she couldn¡¯t see herself in them.

    She¡¯d have let him be beaten. It wasn¡¯t what she wanted to believe about herself, but it was true. If she wasn¡¯t an Oberon, and the person who was compensating her for her hard work decided that her labor was worth less than an already-meager sum?

    She could see herself being totally indifferent to what happened to the man, and that was the best case scenario.

    If she was pissed off? Desperate?

    She stared out the window of her 11th floor apartment. It was a downgrade from what she was used to, but it had its charms. The view wasn¡¯t bad. And it was spacious.

    She leaned back in her couch, and stared at the ceiling.

    Her father wanted her to give Hunter a chance. If she was right, his lecture was meant to show her that she had a blind spot. Although her heart was in the right place, there was something she wasn¡¯t seeing clearly.

    She respected her father. She didn¡¯t always like him, and that was probably a good thing. She learned a lot about commitment from him.

    What if he¡¯d spoiled her more? What if she¡¯d gotten her way when she shouldn¡¯t have?

    Now that lesson she could see. She was grateful that he¡¯d shown her how to stay true to her vision, to her goals, and to persist no matter what. It had gotten her as far as she had. Sure, she had her advantages, but advantages were only a multiplier for the effort you put in. In order to run a Council Corporation, advantages would only get you so far. But without advantages, effort just meant running against the stream.

    If Hunter was going to be a part of the family, he would need to understand that. And he¡¯d already shown an ability to commit and persist, even when things got incredibly difficult.

    She could grudgingly respect that. It¡¯s not like her distaste for him was personal. Her problem with him wasn¡¯t about him, it was about the family. As he was, he was a blight on the Oberon name. He was a ticking time bomb, and she would have to clean up whatever mess he made of their reputation. She just hoped it wouldn¡¯t distract her too much from her own goals.

    She had her own Excellence to achieve, her own vision for her future. She needed the currency in exchange for leverage. It was one of her father¡¯s lessons for her.

    She decided that she would give Hunter Koar a chance, but she would not relent in her standards. He would either grow from the pressure and turn into someone worthy of her family¡¯s name, or he would quit. If he quit, then at the very least he would be out of the way.

    Either way, the family wins.

    <hr>

    ¡°Is the queen bitch gonna come?¡± pipsqueak asked, using the term that Jason reserved for the Oberon princess. Sometimes Jason could grow sick of the puppy¡¯s transparent attempts to ingratiate himself, but he was very obedient.

    So Jason laughed. It was like a little treat. Good boy.

    He¡¯d been stoking the pup¡¯s hatred for the Oberon¡¯s for a while. Of course he knew that playing with fire could be dangerous, but Aera had been something of an obsession of his for a few years now. The higher she rose, the more arrogant she grew, and the more he wanted to tear her down. The Oberon¡¯s were so sure of themselves, but he¡¯d heard whispers¡ª rumors of discontent. Some say they¡¯ve been overplaying their hand, that Trey had overextended himself.

    His guard was starting to slip.

    Oberon; the family, and the company, were vulnerable. At least, that was his impression. And some of the more influential people in his family seemed to agree, given some of the plays¡¯ they¡¯d been making recently.

    So Jason has been biding his time with Aera. He knew what she thought of him, it was as clear as day. It pissed him off, but the fury was intoxicating, and he cultivated it quietly. It motivated him like nothing else. The idea of taking down not only Aera, but the entire fucking family? It turned him on.

    Pippen Visgold, all the bloody Visgolds, had a bone to pick with Oberon. Pippen himself was like an animal, one who was easy to manipulate for someone like Jason. He¡¯d practically isolated the boy, and managed to make him convince himself that Jason was his only real friend. The only person who he could trust.

    It was a risky play, but all that effort in exchange for his own little weapon? A guided missile he could point at the Oberon''s at just the right time? It was too good a deal to pass up.

    The Chan¡¯s had weaved their web throughout Barnum for generations. Outside of this place, Aera was too protected to move against directly. Even here, he would need to be careful. The daughter of Council Seat is is no ordinary prey. But his family¡¯s hard work had paid off. Barnum belonged to the Chans. Not on paper, but if you know, you know.

    What separated Jason from most spiders was that his web was weaved with people¡ª people who responded to rewards, and punishment. Simple self preservation could encourage people to do things they normally wouldn¡¯t. Even if that meant setting them against a future ¡®monarch¡¯.

    The Queen Bitch.

    And whatever this Hunter Oberon Koar was supposed to be.

    Jason had his dominos in hand, and they were just about ready to be put into place. He would just needed to set them up, and find the right hand to give them just the slightest nudge¡­

    It occurred to him that such a hand was sitting beside him, right now. A hand with an itch to pick a bone or two with any Oberon he could find. Before, there was only two. Now there was three, and the third was steeped in mystery. Jason didn''t like mysteries.

    He made a quick calculation involving a dozen social variables. He rejected the conclusion, and approached it from a new angle, and nodded at the result.

    ¡°She¡¯ll come,¡± he said, ¡°what have you learned about the other one?¡±

    ¡°Hunter?¡± pipsqueak asked. Jason had fetched pipsqueak to gather information, and just as ever, pipsqueak was all too eager to play, ¡°An artisan, with an embarrassingly low AR. He seems emaciated and frail, like he could shatter at the lightest touch. You never know with Oberon¡¯s though. They¡¯re a treacherous bunch.¡±

    Jason hummed in thought. He knew a few artisans enrolling in Barnum this year. His family¡¯s investigation into the Oberon corporation¡¯s sponsored students had revealed that one of them were in some desperate financial straits. The Chan¡¯s had already extended a generous offer to help her out. The poor thing had no idea what they were about sign themselves up for.

    That wasn¡¯t his problem though, only his profit.

    Regarding the newest heir, he made a mental note to introduce himself in person at some point. Another Oberon would mean another potential avenue of business. Or another variable to leverage at just the right moment.

    The spider had a web to weave. He always welcomed the addition of another thread to pull.

    ¡°I want you to find out what he¡¯s made of,¡± Jason said. Pipsqueak was nearly feral at the best of times, and the excitement that Jason saw in his eye as he sent him off was a reminder to keep the lad in control.

    ¡°Pippen,¡± Jason said, and the pup looked at its master with questioning eyes¡ª eager to please and be praised, ¡°I must emphasize the importance of discretion. Don¡¯t let anyone make a connection that leads back to us, alright?¡±

    Pippen nodded, and Jason waved him off to have his fun.

    He doubted whether this was the right choice. But the opportunity was too tempting to pass up. Pippen had done a good job so far, and probably had enough experience by now to know just how far to push the Oberon lad.

    He understood that acting against the Oberon¡¯s was a risky play, but Jason needed more information. He doubted anyone would have the courage to act so brazenly so early in the game, but they didn¡¯t know what he knew, and what the Chan¡¯s knew, about what was coming.

    Pippen was smart, and Jason trusted him to do the job right, even with the barely contained rage he¡¯d helped the puppy foster over the years.

    There would always be loyal dogs, you just had to know how to train them. Using Pippen as a sacrifice would, at the very least, satisfy the itch Jason had been feeling for years. Pricking at Aera¡¯s ego was worth it.

    Jason lit a joint, blowing the large cloud of smoke out the window, feeling like his smile could reach both of his ears.

    The academy would have its challenges. Aera was not easy prey. But that just meant he would be all the more motivated to see her on her knees.

    Before him, a grand campus stretched onwards. Others would see a glorious institution¡ª historied, prestigious, and excellent.

    To Jason, it was the world¡¯s biggest playground.

 Chapter 30

    It had been a long time since Hunter had worn a backpack to class. The walk across the campus was idyllic. It was a warm, sunny autumn day. The streets and sidewalks were packed with students and academy faculty, hurrying about their morning. Despite the exclusivity of the academy, there were still thousands of students there at any given time. Many were sitting on benches, or hanging out in small groups in some of the park-like alleyways which made up the small town that the campus composed. It all felt so utterly foreign to Hunter. A backpack full of books, on his way to learn? At school? It may have been less than a decade since he had last attended a class¡ª not counting his time at the Oberon estate¡ª but the last time he''d been a student may as well have been a lifetime ago.

    Hunter was seeing coffee cups in hands, and realized that he¡¯d forgotten to buy a coffee press for himself. He would have to find out where he could find a cafe close to home. He debated buying a coffee on the way, but he figured he¡¯s just rough it out until classes were over for the day. The academic courses were situated closest to the ¡®soul¡¯, the epic historical monument which Hunter had enjoyed when he and Aera had registered their attendance. It was only a few minutes'' walk away, and he relished the idea of relaxing there between classes.

    His first class was a consequence of his new life, having been insisted upon by Trey. He assured himself that it was nothing but a formality, but Leadership Psychology 101 felt like a big symbolic step that Hunter was reluctant to take. He knew that being an Oberon came with huge potential responsibilities, but surely Trey didn''t expect him to actually step into those responsibilities?

    There was an upside; that if he were to ever lead a team of artisans in research and development, perhaps a course like this would be a boon. He''d seen how various teams would sink or swim based on their ability to stay coordinated and focused during the global youth artisan competition. If nothing else, Hunter expected to get some insight into how people like Trey and Aera thought.

    He''d charted the course to the lecture hall the previous day, but still managed to make a couple of wrong turns. The abundance of people seemed to paint the streets and alleys in a new light, but there were certain landmarks which Hunter used to guide himself.

    Hunter made it to the hall with 10 minutes to spare before the class. Half of the seats were already taken up. He found a row that was mostly empty of occupants towards the outer edge of the room. It felt safer to sit away from the center, further from all the attention and activity. A few of the students watched him as he came in. Some were just curious about who else was taking the class, but others appeared to recognize him, pointing him out to a friend or two and making comments. Some appeared outright hostile, others sneered in contempt¡ª nothing Hunter hadn''t expected. There were a few more who seemed to look at him in anticipation.

    One reaction in particular stood out. A rather handsome young man, with a confident air who was laughing with his friends. He was the kind of person that stood out in a crowd, hard to miss. The kind of person who appeared affable and approachable, a heartbreaker if Hunter had ever seen one.

    A member of his group pointed Hunter out, and the look on the young man''s face when turned from friendly and casual to completely focused and, Hunter couldn''t find any other way to describe it, hungry. Hunter got a feeling in his gut that he hadn''t felt since Seckina, when he''d have to walk past a group of Comics who stalked the entrance of his home like hyenas. It was as if the young man had just spotted his prey.

    Within a second, the predatory look was gone, replaced by the affable smile he''d worn just a moment ago. He turned back to his friends, said something, and they all laughed.

    Hunter noticed that he wasn¡¯t the only one receiving such looks. Two or three times there were commotions that didn¡¯t just catch his attention, but most of the gathering students. To Hunter, it seemed like a bold move. First day of class, throwing insults across a room? Once or twice, specific corporations or family name¡¯s were mentioned. Hunter recognized the name Smith and LockeMark being tossed around.

    At 8am sharp, a side door at the front of the lecture hall opened and a thinly built man walked in. He wore a pearlescent dress shirt and brown dress pants. His peppered hair was cut short, but neat. His face was composed of sharp angles¡ª the poster boy for Corpos everywhere.

    Hunter grimaced, realizing that he was in a drone factory, and these were going to be his peers.

    He tried to comfort himself, affirming to himself that he didn¡¯t need to worry about that. All he needed to do was get a high enough grade to stay enrolled. The only Excellence degree he was focused on was in Artisanship. If anyone here saw him as a threat, he¡¯d do his best to dissuade them. He had no skin in this game.

    They could have all of the academic Excellence degrees for all he cared. And there wasn¡¯t any guarantee that anyone present would get one at all. They were awarded to people who distinguish themselves above and beyond their peers in a certain field¡ª in the various fields of academia, artisanship, martial arts, and other elective fields.

    The professor approached the middle of the white board at the front of the hall, and wrote his name.

    ¡°Professor Bellamy. Rule number one, my name is not ¡®bro,¡¯ it¡¯s not ¡®bud.¡¯ I understand that many of you might be somebody, or most likely the child of somebody. But that doesn¡¯t matter here¡ª¡±

    Hunter heard a barely-suppressed snicker from whoever was seated behind him. If the professor heard, it apparently didn¡¯t bother him.

    ¡°¡ªAs long as we are on this campus, I am Professor Bellamy, and you will refer to me as such. I will accept Mr. Bellamy as well. There is no other option. Now,¡± Mr. Bellamy said, pulling out a large tome and placing it at the desk at the front of the hall. He leaned over the table.

    ¡°What is Leadership Psychology?¡± he asked the class.

    ¡°You¡¯re asking us?¡± someone called out, Hunter couldn¡¯t see who.

    ¡°Rule number two,¡± Mr. Bellamy said, ¡°you will raise your hand before speaking, unless otherwise instructed. And to answer your question, yes. I¡¯m asking you,¡± he said, pointing at someone in particular. Hunter assumed it was whoever had unknowingly broken rule number two.

    Stolen story; please report.

    ¡°No answer? Well now, that is telling me something. How many of you, show of hands, have any idea why you¡¯re here?¡± the professor asked. Out of the hundreds of hands in the room, only a couple dozen were raised.

    Mr. Bellamy nodded.

    ¡°For those of you who know, welcome to class. For those of you who don¡¯t, we¡¯ll both hope that you¡¯re not wasting your time. I promise you, the moment it seems like we are, I will be having a chat with you in private about your future in my class. The only people I want to be here, are the ones who want to be here. That¡¯s rule number three: I expect nothing but your best effort. That doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m heartless, if you have a very, very good excuse as to why some of your work may not be up to standard, I will forgive you. Fair warning, the amount of times that has happened in my ten years at this academy can be counted on one hand,¡± he said.

    ¡°With all of that out of the way, welcome to Leadership Psychology. The answer I was looking for is¡ª you¡¯ll want to write this down¡± he said, following his own advice and uncapping a marker underneath the whiteboard and writing as he spoke, ¡°the understanding of self and other with the intent to inspire optimal performance.¡±

    For a man that oozed the death of personality that seems to come from corporate life, Mr. Bellamy had a very commanding presence. Hunter wrote it down.

    ¡°What exactly that means will be different for some of you. Any of you who find yourself in a leadership roll will find yourself faced with many obstacles, but the biggest ones will not come from the outside world. Who are you working with? What do they want? Let me tell you, it better be what you want. A lot of that can be filtered through the hiring process, but many of you will be working with people who inherited their positions, or are being tracked to other departments, staying in yours while they gain some requisite experience. You might be one such individual yourself. Any idea about what that means? Yes, in the blue shirt,¡± he said, pointing to a student who put up his hand.

    ¡°Does it mean we need to learn how to treat people fairly?¡± the student asked, ¡°being mindful of where they¡¯re coming from and where they¡¯re going?¡±

    ¡°Where they¡¯re going? No. Where they¡¯re coming from, maybe. Fairness is relative, and its a tool. Sometimes, being an effective leader means being unfair. Especially when you get higher up the chain, and your decisions can effect more people,¡± Professor Bellamy said. That wasn¡¯t exactly what Hunter had expected to hear.

    But, then again, should he be surprised that the premier school of Corporate excellence was teaching that fairness is relative?

    ¡°I know some of you bleeding hearts are going to be finding yourselves disagreeing with me¡ª I don¡¯t care. My career is public knowledge, look me up. I was a company flipper. I would buy broken, hemorrhaging, failing businesses and turn them into successes. I flipped 40 companies, five of which are worth billions each, and another dozen which are worth hundreds of millions. Believe it or not, I''m not teaching this stuff for the money. Why am I telling you this?¡±

    He scanned the hall. A few hands went up, but he ignored them.

    ¡°I¡¯m telling you because I need you to know that what I¡¯m teaching is what works. I¡¯m going to be teaching you how the world works, through the lens of how people work, why people work, and how to get them to work more effectively. My hope is that you¡¯ll take what you learn here over the next year, and apply it not only to yourself, but your friends and your families¡ª where applicable, I''m quite aware of some of the names I¡¯ve got on my attendance list. Some of your family¡¯s are doing just fine,¡± he chuckled.

    ¡°Alright. The rest of this class is to give you an overview of what you¡¯ll be learning. We¡¯ll probably get you out of here 30 minutes early, there¡¯s really not that much to go over. How¡¯s that sound?¡±

    A small round of clapping and soft cheers broke out, with Hunter joining in, but it soon died out when we saw the cheerless smile on Mr. Bellamy¡¯s face.

    ¡°You all just broke rule 2. You get one warning,¡± he said, holding up a single finger to the class to emphasize his point.

    Hunter realized a couple of things in that moment.

    The first was obvious; he''d been baited.

    The second was that that wasn¡¯t the first time that the class had been baited.

    This guy was good.

    Hunter was starting to like this Professor. He didn¡¯t just talk the talk.

    Mr. Bellamy turned to face the whiteboard and started writing down the various modules he¡¯d be going over during the next year. He¡¯d been right, it didn¡¯t take too long at all, and Hunter left the lecture hall feeling refreshed. That was nothing like the classes he remembered. Having to see the same teacher day after day, week after week, month after month. Stuck in the same desk around the same people. He¡¯d heard that high school was supposed to be a bit different, but he never went, so this was still new and interesting.

    With plenty of time before his next class, Hunter decided that he might be able to sneak in a coffee after all. He asked a passing student where the nearest cafe was, and they told him to keep heading west. Hunter didn¡¯t know west from east, but he headed in the direction the man pointed until he found a building with the world ¡®cafe¡¯ on it. He headed in, pleased to find that there wasn¡¯t a large line up. He ordered the largest coffee on the menu, and started shoveling in the sugar.

    The door to the cafe opened, and a small bell above the door rang to let the barista know that they had a new customer. It caught Hunters attention, and he suddenly felt a sense of impending drama. He felt like he was in that cafe back in the Oberon Capital, and David Nettle had just shown up. Hunter sighed as he poured in his cream. The young man went to order a coffee, and Hunter felt that maybe there wouldn¡¯t be any drama after all. As Hunter started to leave, the young man called out to him.

    ¡°You¡¯re Hunter, right?¡±

    He silently asked himself, and any deity which may have been listening to his inner monologue, why trouble seemed to follow him around so much. And why cafe¡¯s?

    Hang on, he thought, had he literally been followed? This could spell a very unfortunate start to the year¡ª especially if this was a sign of how the rest of the year was going to go.

    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± he said, ¡°look, I''d love to talk but I''m busy¡ª¡±

    ¡°I just wanted to introduce myself,¡± the young man said, holding out his hand for Hunter to shake, ¡°the name¡¯s Pippen. Pippen Visgold.¡±

    He¡¯d said his last name as if Hunter were supposed to recognize it. It did ring a bell, but he couldn¡¯t place where he¡¯d heard it before.

    ¡°Hunter,¡± Hunter said, shaking the hand, ¡°Koar¡ª

    ¡°¡ªOberon Koar, if I''m to understand correctly. What an upgrade, eh?¡± Pippen asked, his handshake firming into something a bit like a vice grip. The young man¡¯s eyes had a hard look in them¡ª that focused, intense gaze that seemed like he was a starving man staring at an incredibly tempting meal. Hunter cleared his throat.

    He already hated Pippen.

    ¡°Sure,¡± Hunter said, trying to pull his hand free, but Pippen¡¯s hand wouldn¡¯t budge, ¡°Look, I¡¯ve got to go.¡±

    Suddenly, Pippen released his hand, and laughed, slapping Hunter on the back¡ª and Hunter knew it was going to leave a bruise.

    ¡°You seem like a fun guy to be around, Hunter,¡± Pippen said, turning to leave, his voice light, as if he hadn¡¯t just temporarily shifted into a psycho, ¡°I¡¯ll see you around.¡±

    Hunter had been feeling good. Professor Bellamy seemed great, and for the first time since ever, Hunter was looking forward to being at school.

    But there was always someone around who wanted to shit on his parade¡ª and it was never because of Hunter himself. It always had to do with his name. If it wasn¡¯t because of his father, now it would be because of the Oberon''s.

    He left the cafe, wondering if all of this was worth it. But he recognized where those thoughts were going and decided to nip them in the bud.

    Those kind of thoughts weren¡¯t going to earn him Excellence. He wasn¡¯t a vulnerable child anymore, he wasn¡¯t fending for himself. Now, he was an Oberon. That meant something. David Nettle wouldn¡¯t have bothered and Oberon¡ª but this Pippen Visgold did. That meant something as well.

    And Hunter couldn¡¯t figure out how he was supposed to deal with that. Who were the Visgolds?

    He¡¯d have to ask Aera at their evening session.

 Interlude; Professor Jackson

    ¡°Have you had time to consider my proposal?¡± Professor Jackson asked.

    Meredna Abercromby headed the department, and her approval would be the only way he could amend the course. She sighed and shook her head.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Arbutus¡ª¡± Meredna said, and Professor Jackson winced at the mispronunciation. They always said ¡®byew-tus¡¯ or ¡®but-us¡¯.

    ¡°Boot-is,¡± he interrupted.

    Meredna raised an eyebrow, but conceded.

    ¡°Right, my mistake. I¡¯m sorry, but you know how that my hands are tied. The paper you want to base this new curriculum on hasn¡¯t even been peer reviewed. You haven¡¯t gotten it published in any significant journal¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªbecause they¡¯re all blind,¡± Professor Jackson interrupted again. He winced, this time at himself. It was a bad habit, but he couldn¡¯t help it.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    They were blind. They couldn¡¯t see the obvious. And once he¡¯d connected it all, it was obvious. He¡¯d be lying if he didn¡¯t say that it wasn¡¯t vanity that pushed him to so fervently demand that his work be recognized, but it could change everything they thought they knew about ancient history. The Asutnahem KNEW!

    ¡°Be that as it may¡± Meredna said, gesturing for him to calm down, ¡°there¡¯s nothing I can do. You¡¯ve been hired to teach the syllabus as it is, which you agreed to when you accepted the job offer. I¡¯m sure your research has fascinating implications¡ª

    Professor Jackson stopped listening. He¡¯d heard all he needed to. Besides, she¡¯s practically just admitted to not having read the paper in question. If she had, she¡¯d be singing a very different tune.

    He¡¯d tried to convince her for months. If she hadn¡¯t read it yet, she wouldn¡¯t.

    ¡°I see,¡± Professor Jackson said, his mind already many thousand years away, ¡°Thank you for taking the time to see me. I¡¯ll leave you to it.¡±

    He exited Meredna¡¯s office, and decided he¡¯d enjoy a walk through the soul. Some fresh air would clear his mind. Classes didn¡¯t start for another day, and he was as prepared as he needed to be, so he¡¯d spend the rest of the day focusing on expanding his work.

    If he was right, and he was right, then history was about to change. And by all that is good, he swore that he would be leading the charge into a new era of understanding the peoples that came before them.

 Chapter 31

    Aera sighed. Her voice echoed through the small multi-purpose room they¡¯d scheduled for their evening tutoring sessions.

    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t be surprised, the Visgolds are nothing if not aggressive,¡± Aera said. Hunter was taken off guard. That was the first sentence she¡¯d ever spoke to him that wasn¡¯t outright hostile or condescending.

    ¡°They¡¯re a LockeMark family. Old, powerful, and influential, typically considered an extension of the Locke family itself¡ª but most people won¡¯t know about that. It lets them keep a degree of separation between themselves and the Visgolds, who end up responsible for doing a lot of the corporations¡¯ dirty work,¡± Aera said as they switched to the next stretch in their warm up routine, ¡°I¡¯ve met Pippen before, and some of the people he, well, associates with.¡±

    They finished the stretch, and Hunter waited to see if she¡¯d say anything more. When nothing was forthcoming, he wondered if she was waiting for him to say something.

    ¡°So what do I do?¡±

    ¡°About what?¡±

    ¡°I mean, there¡¯s something wrong with him. He seemed to have it out for me,¡± Hunter said. Aera laughed.

    ¡°You¡¯re an Oberon, now. There¡¯s millions of people who have it out for you for that fact alone. It¡¯s something you¡¯re going to have to get used to, Hunter. Now, you ready?¡± She asked, getting ready to start their drills.

    ¡°Sure,¡± he said. She tilted her head as she considered him. It was weird. Had something changed between them in the last couple of days? Was she finally backing off?

    ¡°Look, Barnum¡¯s not just about earning Excellence, it¡¯s about proving yourself. Not just to the school, but to your peers, your family, and your company. Think of it like a proving ground, a controlled microcosm for the world stage. You understand that LockeMark and Oberon have feuded before, right? I¡¯m not just talking bidding wars, I¡¯m talking actual battlefields.¡±

    Hunter couldn¡¯t believe what he was hearing.

    ¡°Battlefields? Like, actual wars? No way, I would have heard something¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªThe amount you haven¡¯t heard could fill a library, Hunter. The Seats might present a unified front, but behind the scenes, the men and women shaking hands at the televised conferences can be ordering each others people killed by the dozens. Sure, its not often, but it does happen.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re saying that I need to be prepared for more Pippen Visgolds to appear,¡± Hunter said, after taking a second to digest what he¡¯d just heard.

    He¡¯d heard rumors, conspiracy theories. But then he considered why corporations had such well armed security departments in the first place. He¡¯d not thought very much about why Sly had been so well decorated.

    ¡°I feel like I have a lot to catch up on,¡± Hunter said, preparing to start practicing his jabs.

    Aera declined to comment any further, and Hunters training began. 50 minutes later, exhausted and hurting, it was his turn to tutor her.

    But not before wondering how different these sessions would have gone had he been stronger. He tried to ignore that line of thinking, but he was feeling a bit vulnerable now. When he was just supposed to outperform a few snobs in an artisanship class, he felt assured. In fact, as long as avoided people like Pippen, he didn''t feel like he had much to worry about. As far as he was concerned, his biggest obstacles were going to be time management, and trying to actually deliver some value to Aera when it was his turn to tutor.

    It was just as awkward as he''d thought. They¡¯d spent most of the time figuring out what Aera did and didn¡¯t know, and he had to admit that she knew all the basics pretty well.

    Not nearly as well as he did, he thought, but then again, who did?

    When he¡¯d considered how to approach the session, he realized that he didn¡¯t actually need to have much in the way of a gameplay. He figured he¡¯d just ask her what she wanted to know, and they¡¯d work their way towards that.

    ¡°I aim to earn a degree of Excellence,¡± she¡¯d said¡ª and Hunter couldn¡¯t help it, he laughed. Her frown spoke of future punishments, and Hunter relented, but what more did he have to fear from her?

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, that won¡¯t be possible,¡± Hunter said.

    ¡°Oh?¡± Aera asked, her tone casual, yet one of her hands were balled into a fist. Hunter held up both hands in surrender.

    ¡°It¡¯s not possible because that¡¯s where I''m earning my degree of excellence,¡± he said. Aera gave him a skeptical look.

    ¡°Look, I understand your deal with my father, but this isn¡¯t some yearly competition, this is Barnum. The best of the best are coming here, you¡¯ll find that you¡¯re up against some very formidable and competitive minds.¡±

    Hunter couldn''t believe what he was hearing. She was skeptical about how he''d perform, but what was she thinking artisanship was? A matter of grit and determination? In front of Hunters advantage in this domain, that meant very little.

    She thought he was out of his league.

    She was even being polite. She was telling him that she didn¡¯t think he stood much of a chance, but she was only trying to infer it.

    She had no idea. Sometimes, Hunter mused, ignorance can be forgiven. She didn¡¯t know what he could do.

    ¡°How much did Trey tell you about my results from the competition?¡±

    Aera shrugged.

    ¡°He said that you distinguished yourself, for someone with such a low AR. And the fact that you¡¯re the son of his old friend meant that you might have potential as a future Artisan,¡± Aera said, frowning¡ª but it wasn¡¯t a threatening frown like before. She was telling the truth, as far as he could tell.

    A sense of giddiness welled up in his chest and he felt like he had a million things to say.

    Did this explain why she had been so reluctant to accept Hunters presence? Trey had undersold his performance?

    On paper, maybe it did seem kind of lackluster. But if she was out of the loop, if she wasn¡¯t an artisan, then she wouldn¡¯t know any better. Hunter had placed fifth in a competition. Sure, even he was slightly disappointed with his result, but that was more because of the fact that he lost to David Nettle and his team of baboons who screeched and hollered whenever he opened his mouth.

    And, sure, maybe he¡¯d expected to win the whole thing going into it, but he¡¯d had a lot to learn about humility over that weekend. And it was enough that he took Aera¡¯s words seriously. The people he was going to be competing with for that degree of Excellence weren¡¯t to be trivialized. These were highly educated, and accomplished young men and women, at least for the most part. People like Jonathan Berrymoore and his team, who Hunter was sure he¡¯d run into during his time here. They¡¯d be studying in the same area. It was bound to happen.

    Fortunately, he¡¯d never had any trouble with them during the competition, so he remained open minded towards them.

    ¡°How interested are you in hearing about how severely your father undersold my performance?¡±

    ¡°Words are far less persuasive than actions. Had you placed first, then I would be interested in what you might have to say.¡±

    ¡°Then I''ll tell you this much, there¡¯s not a person our age who can compare to me in the knowledge about artisanship. Sure, my AR might be lacking, and sure, my father was a renowned artisan. But I¡¯ve proven myself in my own right. Your father seems like a pretty smart guy, do you really think he¡¯d give me this sponsorship if he thought I had mere potential?

    She didn¡¯t like his tone, apparently. He figured that he¡¯d end it there, in the interest of self preservation.

    ¡°I think we¡¯re both tired,¡± Hunter said, ¡°consider what I''ve said. But I''m not going to take it back: that Excellence is mine. It doesn¡¯t matter what I, or anyone teaches you. You won¡¯t catch up to me, because you can¡¯t. I was at a severe disadvantage during the completion and I still outperformed 90 percent of the competition by myself, with a fraction of any of their AR''s, and completely exhausted.¡±

    He left first that evening, feeling like it was a day stuffed full of significant firsts. It was his first real conversation with Aera, he¡¯d had his first classes, his first encounter with Pippen Visgold; and Hunter Hunter was going to make it his personal mission to ensure that it was his last. But it was also his first time realizing that he hadn¡¯t only assumed a mantle of privilege and responsibility with his new name. He¡¯d also inherited deep grudges and rivalries which had lasted for generations. He had unknowingly stepped into a battlefield that he wasn¡¯t prepared to fight in.

    He considered Aera¡¯s new attitude towards him. He didn¡¯t know what had changed, but maybe it was a sign that he wouldn¡¯t be completely alone in surviving the fights ahead. Maybe Aera was taking her fathers last-but-not-least rule to heart.

    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    He would have to count on her to have his back.

    The multipurpose room was a ten-minute walk from the apartment. Hunter figured that he¡¯d have time to make it home, shower, and have some dinner before going to sleep.

    Fate had other plans.

    Shortly after leaving, he realized he was being followed. There weren¡¯t many people out, and the ones who he thought were following him would take all the same turns that he did. He¡¯d hoped that he was just being paranoid, but then some more people stepped in front of him from an alleyway, and pulled him to the side.

    ¡°Sit,¡± they said.

    ¡°Let me go¡ª¡±

    They shoved Hunter down into a bench. Hunter saw the people who¡¯d been following him come around the corner, smiling. He didn¡¯t recognize any of them. One of the stood watch at the end of the alley, and another was doing the same at the other end. He saw one or two people walking by, doing their best to ignore whatever was going on.

    So this was how it was going to be, was it?

    ¡°Can we please not do this? I just want to get home,¡± Hunter said, knowing as he spoke that it wouldn¡¯t be that easy.

    One of the group, a man wearing a mask, slapped Hunter in the face.

    It hurt. He¡¯d felt numb from Aera¡¯s training, but his body had time to interject its opinion about the poor treatment it had been receiving that evening. Every movement of his body was met with protestation.

    ¡°Remember, we can¡¯t hurt him too bad,¡± the man said, stepping back.

    The slap hurt, but it only joined the chorus of pain which was present everywhere else.

    Another one stepped forward and slapped Hunter where his friend had, and laughed. The rest of the gang laughed with him, and then they all joined in, taking turns slapping, until they started getting bored.

    One of them punched him in the gut. He felt that old familiar feeling of the air leaving his lungs, and he gasped for breath. They all kept laughing. Hunter fell off the bench, unable to control himself as his body curled up. They stopped taking turns, all punching and kicking, laughing and hollering.

    ¡°He¡¯s so weak!¡±

    ¡°Did you see how he just curled up like that?¡±

    ¡°Oberon''s standards are slipping if this is the trash they''re bringing into the family.¡±

    Hunter had never been beaten before. Not like this. He could feel his bones breaking. He still couldn¡¯t breathe.

    He wondered if he was going to die, as they beat him. He could taste blood in his mouth. He felt dizzy. He wanted to scream for help, but he still couldn¡¯t breathe.

    Then they relented, and left.

    Hunter blinked, and he was being carried. There were voices. He blinked again, and he was in a bright room. A woman stood over him, talking to someone. Then Aera was there as well. She was angry.

    He wanted to flinch, and get away. He didn¡¯t want to deal with an angry Aera.

    He couldn¡¯t move, but at least there wasn¡¯t any pain.

    But at least he was alive. He wondered where the gang had gone. It had only been a few moments. Had Aera seen them? They couldn¡¯t have gotten far.

    Then Hunter slept. It could have been for a moment, it could have been for days. He woke up with the most intense headache he¡¯d ever had. Easily ten times more intense than anything he¡¯d felt during the competition. The sight that met him as he opened his eyes was horrific. His whole body was wrapped in a cast.

    ¡°What the fuck?¡± he whispered, ¡°What the fuck?¡±

    Then he remembered the attack, which had felt like it had only happened a second ago. He could still hear them laughing, and insulting him.

    They were right, he really was weak. He wasn¡¯t meant to be here. If this was what Aera had meant, if this was the kind of attention that came with being an Oberon, then he wouldn¡¯t survive. It hadn¡¯t even been a full day, and he was already like this? What state would he be in after a month?

    Would he even be alive after a year?

    A nurse came in and saw that he was awake, and asked him some questions. He told her his name, where he thought he was, the year, and the name of his father. She informed him that he was at the hospital, located just beyond the the Academy¡¯s campus.

    She called for a doctor to come to talk to him.

    He didn¡¯t have any good news.

    ¡°3 broke ribs, your right arm is broken in 2 different places. A broken collarbone, a broken shin, and your skull has a couple hairline fractures,¡± he''d said.

    So that explained the pain. He wasn¡¯t surprised that the damage had been so bad.

    Most people might come away from that in much better shape. But Hunter felt certain that he¡¯d nearly died. It was something he¡¯d been avoiding his whole life. The Comics were the closest he¡¯d gotten, and felt like he¡¯d escaped them by the skin of his teeth. It was almost like the universe had it out for him, where he managed to avoid his cosmic punishment in one domain, it brought it to him in another.

    But what had he done to deserve this?

    ¡°Who?¡± Hunter asked. It was all he could manage. It hurt to talk.

    The doctor sighed.

    ¡°We don¡¯t know. There will be a detective arriving here, soon. They¡¯re going to ask you questions, and it¡¯ll be their job to determine that. I¡¯ll let you get some rest now, Hunter. I¡¯m sure you have a lot of questions, but they can wait. I¡¯ll inform your sister, she¡¯s been asking about you every day.¡±

    Sister? He thought, considering the strange word. Then he remembered.

    Right, Aera.

    She¡¯d been asking about him? Every day? That didn¡¯t sound like her.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Hunter said. The doc smiled and nodded.

    There was a small television in the corner of the room, it was playing cartoons. He never really liked cartoons, but he was grateful for the distraction.

    <hr>

    Aera paced her room, thinking. She¡¯d decided she¡¯d skip her next class¡ª she was three months ahead of everyone else, so she wasn¡¯t worried about missing anything important.

    Hunter was an Oberon. They might have their differences, he might be stubborn and naive and be aiming way above what he¡¯s capable of, but they shared a name. That made an attack on him an attack on her.

    Someone had fucked up.

    This never should have happened.

    Someone was being careless, at best. At worst, they were making a declaration of war.

    Aera would be acting on the latter assumption. Her fury would settle for no less. She would scorch the earth.

    People didn¡¯t know about Hunters frailty. They were probably trying to make a statement¡ª a bold statement. Too bold. To jump straight to violence out of the gate? Aera had been studying the unofficial histories of Barnum, at her fathers behest. He told her that there would be a pecking order, and she would be at the top of it. That meant it was up to her to help keep the peace, without trampling over the ambitions of those under her influence.

    But this was an attack on Oberon. Fuck peace.

    There was always a shadow side to things, and at Barnum this was especially true. You couldn¡¯t bring the gathered interest of the worlds¡¯ greatest powers together without sacrificing power of your own, and Barnum appeared to make this sacrifice willingly for the sake of prestige. The children who attend this place had a lot of influence, but they had to be careful. It was in everyone¡¯s interest to keep this little game¡ª this microcosm of global power¡ª running. That meant that they needed to stay civilized. At least for the most part.

    The drama was usually more controlled. Sometimes things got out of control, but they took time to get out of control.

    The stakes had been escalated too early.

    There was the possibility that his had been a random act of violence, but thinking that way felt useless to her. The odds were pointing to this being targeted. Hunter was a relatively unknown variable, and the powers that be would have wanted to probe at him, find out who he was, and how he would respond. This is how the game was played¡ª measured actions, with an aversion to excess risk.

    Thus, her conclusion that someone fucked up. They¡¯d overestimated Hunter, and now they would have to pay the price. This would set the tone for the rest of their time at the academy¡ª or at least the rest of her time.

    A counter-statement would need to be made, not with words, but with actions.

    No one fucks with the Oberons. Not if they want a bright and healthy future.

    So she had taken most of the day off to come up with a plan. It wasn¡¯t as much time as she¡¯d like, and she didn¡¯t know enough to take any concrete action.

    That was frustrating.

    Hunter had nearly been killed on Academy grounds. Her father was furious and had started to devote resources to his own investigation, but he would have about as much luck as she was having. He¡¯d threatened to have Hunter brought back to the Oberon domain, but she¡¯d calmed him down, and convinced him to wait for Hunter to decide if that¡¯s what he wants. As loathed as she was to admit it, she and Hunter shared some things in common, chief among which appeared to be a refusal to quit once they¡¯d set their minds to something. She¡¯d been ruminating over the way he¡¯d spoken up to her at their session, and she was reluctant to admit that she was impressed.

    She¡¯d thought¡ª even hoped¡ª that Hunter would prove to be mediocre at best, that his skills as an artisan, though sufficient to make it to the top 5 of a global competition, would prove insufficient to give him any hope of attaining the coveted degree of Excellence.

    She¡¯d wanted to dismiss his entire rant from the session last night. But she''d caught herself, and considered what he¡¯d said.

    He was right, her father wasn¡¯t a fool, and although her father could make some impulsive decisions, they were usually measured to a degree sufficient enough to avoid significant loss.

    What¡¯s more, is that when he knows he¡¯s taking a risk, he¡¯s quick to admit it. So far, he¡¯d been resolute in his decision with Hunter. As far as she was concerned, her father already saw Hunter as one of them¡ª whether she or Hunter agreed with that assessment or not.

    She considered what she knew, and admitted that it¡¯s possible she¡¯d been selling Hunter short. Her emotions had clouded her judgement. She¡¯d been too prideful to see it. She¡¯d lost her integrity in the pursuit of what could very well have been nothing but her own childish immaturity. That¡¯s not to say she was now Hunters biggest fan, but she was more open to seeing him as an asset, instead of a burden, and that just gave her more fuel to burn the hot fury she¡¯d been stoking all day.

    To attack Hunter was to attack her, and to attack her was to attack her father.

    What frustrated her was that there were too many variables. She did have one lead, though. He¡¯d mentioned Pippen Visgold.

    Pippen was one of Jason¡¯s friends. That bothered her. The implications only spiraled downwards in severity. Confronting Pippen would do nothing¡ª not unless it was part of a bigger play. Whether he had a part in Hunters¡¯ condition or not, she needed to approach this carefully. She needed evidence, and a solid plan.

    She needed to get even. Someone skipped the foreplay and pulled out the big guns. Aera wasn¡¯t afraid of violence, but she knew that there was a time and a place for it. And she would be damned sure that there would be a time and a place for it. Her ancestors never shied away from battle. It was time to teach the world that she was nothing if not a daughter of the Oberon.

    She rang Jason¡¯s number.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got Jason,¡± he said.

    ¡°Its me,¡± Aera said.

    ¡°Aera, darling. Good to hear your voice. You know, I was just thinking about how disappointed everyone was that you couldn¡¯t attend our little club. You wouldn¡¯t happened to have changed your mind about that in the last day or two, would you?¡±

    Aera almost threw up, but she composed herself.

    ¡°Actually, I have. When did you say the next club meeting would be?¡±

    She could feel Jason¡¯s creepy smile over the line.

    ¡°What a coincidence, we¡¯re going to have another one tonight, actually. Everyone will be so pleased to hear that you¡¯ll be participating in¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªNo, not participating. I¡¯ll just be there to watch. And make some money, of course.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Jason said, the disappointment in his voice was almost genuine, ¡°Well, it would have been great to see the great Aera Oberon show off in person. But nevertheless your presence is welcome. As far as money making opportunities go,¡± Jason paused, and Aera wanted to roll her eyes, ¡°I¡¯m sure you won¡¯t be disappointed.¡±

    He gave her an address, a password, and a time to show up at.

    She hung up first.

    She wanted to throw the phone across the room.

    She couldn''t believe she walked past that damned alleyway on her way home. She¡¯d walked right past Hunter, and he must have been lying there, unconscious. She hadn¡¯t even noticed.

    Her phone rang. She briefly considered whether she should answer it. It could be Jason, and that would be regrettable.

    She answered it anyways. It was a nurse.

    Hunter was awake. She was out the door in seconds.

    She needed to know what he knew.

    No one fucks with the Oberons.

 Chapter 32

    Hunter started to have strange memories of his time in the hospital room, memories that felt real, but could have been. He figured that what he was experiencing were the symptoms of a severe head injury. He almost jumped out of his skin when the walls started to melt away, revealing a vast, black empty space, a blackness that gave into grey and white shifting forms, forms that filled in with color¡ª no single shape ever reaching complete definition before it shifted again, almost finding solidity, identity, before it was gone, and replaced by something else¡ª but not quite.

    Always changing. Changing, changing, changing.

    If he¡¯d had been there for a minute, a day, or a year, he couldn¡¯t tell. The variations in this space appeared endless.

    Except for one figure, one lone figure standing in the distance, facing Hunter. Hunter found that his body appeared completely healed. He tried walking, and then running towards the figure. For a while, it worked. The figure got closer, and closer, the space between them changing, filling in with new details. A walkway, a road, a forest path, a mountain, a river, they were standing on an ocean, they were standing on a rock in the void of space, they were in a field of grass.

    Every step was a new world. The closer he got to the figure, the more he realized that there was something behind him. A vast, dark shape. An opening mouth, full of razor sharp teeth. It dwarfed the man.

    He was familiar to Hunter, but Hunter couldn¡¯t quite place where he knew him from. The man smiled at Hunter.

    ¡°Humble beginnings. He was right, it¡¯s a shapeless shape, but a shape nevertheless,¡± he chuckled and smiled, turning towards the vast maw which saught to devour him and walked into it without hesitation.

    Hunter awoke once more to the hospital room, but he must have still been delirious, since he could hear the man¡¯s voice echo through the room, still eerily familiar.

    ¡°Be not afraid.¡±

    There was a knock at the door, and it opened. It was Aera.

    ¡°Am I still dreaming?¡± he asked, not really looking forward to the prospect of seeing Aera grow a few more eyes, and claws. Although it would probably wouldn¡¯t change the way he felt about her.

    As far as he was concerned, her claws were sharper than any nightmare his mind could conjure. He could see something in her eye¡ª a flame like the one her father was so proud of, yet hers was less passion and more like pure, focused fury.

    ¡°Tell me what you know.¡±

    ¡°Great to see you too, sister,¡± he said, laughing at the word. How ridiculous did that sound? The look on her face was priceless.

    She must not have liked that word. It must have short-circuited her hardware. He savored the small moment of victory.

    She was speechless. It took her a second to reboot, but when she did, she repeated the command.

    ¡°Tell me what you know, Hunter.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± he said, feeling like the room was starting to spin. Maybe the walls would start melting again. It was kind of creepy when they did that, but it was also kind of cool.

    ¡°Who attacked you? What do you remember? Faces, voices, names, what were they wearing? Did they say anything to you? Was it Pippen?¡±

    ¡°Fuuuuuuuck Pippen. I don¡¯t like that guy, scary dude, like a predator¡± Hunter said, feeling incredibly tired all of a sudden, ¡°I think I''m gonna take a nap.¡±

    ¡°Just give me something Hunter,¡± she said. It almost sounded like she was pleading.

    ¡°I¡¯m too weak. They said so. I¡¯m no Oberon. ¡®Too weak for an Oberon,¡¯ they said. They¡¯re right. But they don¡¯t know. I¡¯ll show them. I¡¯ll show you, Aera. You don¡¯t know, none of you do. I¡¯ll show you,¡± he said forcing out each word, but each syllable seemed to be harder to speak than the last. By the end, he was pushing out the barest of whispers.

    Then he was too tired to say anything else. Maybe he was on drugs. They do that at hospitals, right? He¡¯d never done drugs before. But that would be irresponsible of them. His head hurt.

    Then he was dreaming again.

    Over the next month, Hunter made a full recovery. They¡¯d transferred Hunter to an advanced recovery room¡ª which Oberon had directly supplied with proprietary, bleeding edge constructs constructs devoted to sustaining a something called a ¡®healing field¡¯¡ª a name that was incredibly vague. How the field actually worked, no one knew. He asked how they even made a construct out of something they didn¡¯t understand, and they¡¯d said something about discovering a complete network diagram somewhere.

    Hunter was incredibly unsatisfied with that answer. One does not just stumble upon a complete network diagram. He took some solace in the fact that it appeared that it was the Oberon corporation which had stumbled upon it, which meant that in a way, Hunter would have a way to access it in the future.

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    Trey had visited Hunter a few times, asking him if he wanted to leave the academy. Hunters first reflex was to say yes. But he¡¯d asked Trey what it would mean for him.

    ¡°Goodwill keeps my company glued together in tough times, Hunter. If you had a degree of Excellence, it would be easy to convince my captain¡¯s to let you on board their ship¡ª otherwise I would have to force you upon them. Whether you are a benefit to them or not, that would start to pose a problem. I let our Captain¡¯s run their ships as they wish, so long as they follow our established protocols. I only interfere in emergencies¡ª goodwill, see? Trust. Integrity. I could still get you a spot in an outworld training program, but I''d be taking that spot away from someone else who might deserve it just as much as you do. If that¡¯s what you want, I¡¯ll sign the papers.¡±

    He¡¯d seen that Trey had meant it, too.

    So Hunter refused. He had to imagine what it would have been like to be that young man or woman who was about to take the the next step towards their own dreams, only to be told that the Council Seat had used his authority to cancel that dream for the sake of an heir.

    Hunter wouldn¡¯t be able to look himself in the mirror if he¡¯d accepted. Besides, that wasn¡¯t the only reason why he wanted to stay at Barnum.

    He had one avenue to explore before he would decide to quit.

    The rest of the time in that room was spent either studying for his classes, or studying the sensations he got from the strange construct.

    And he had no idea what he was feeling, it was the strangest thing. He¡¯d loved to have gotten underneath the bed to see the construct with his own eyes. What he could see was the dozens of batteries they had been using at any given time to keep the construct operational. And these weren¡¯t consumer brand batteries, there were industrial grade. At the rate they were changing them, Hunter assumed the constructs being used to sustain this strange effect must measure in at an AR requirement of at least 150.

    They told him that he was a prime candidate for the treatment. Not only could his family afford it, but Hunters unique constitution meant that the field didn¡¯t have much to heal.

    What was healing him? What does ¡®heal¡¯ even mean in this context? How does the field know that he is in a state to be healed? It doesn¡¯t make any sense. It was about as nonsensical and vague as this texts he read about vital force as a corollary of affinity for, and exposure to, etherium.

    But then again, what about etherium did make sense? Sure, Hunter could feel that it had depths that no one else seemed to be aware of, but that didn¡¯t mean he knew what etherium was. As far as he knew, a healing field was just scratching away at the dust that lined the very edge of the surface of possibilities that etherium was capable of.

    He made a note to himself to research these types of constructs when he had the time. He hadn¡¯t even heard of it before he woke up in it. He didn¡¯t even really feel like there was a field, not physically. Apart from sensing the strange etheric charge pulsing around him, he could have sworn he was on a normal bed in a normal room, filled with strange devices that he could almost pretend he didn¡¯t recognize.

    While he recovered, Aera had come to ask him more questions. He barely remembered her previous visit¡ª and he only remembered it because of the strange hallucination he¡¯d had just before she arrived. He¡¯d puzzled over its meaning, and thought he understood what it meant to convey.

    The shifting world¡ª that had been his life over the last couple of months, hadn¡¯t it? And the figure that stood in the middle of it all. He was pretty sure it was him. If he remembered the face correctly, it almost looked like his father, but it wasn¡¯t. Because it almost looked like himself. It was like an idealized version of himself¡ª without the frailty. Without the weakness.

    And he could make an educated guess as to what that hideous mouth had symbolized, and what it meant to walk into it without hesitation.

    It was a decision he knew he¡¯d have to make. Because he knew that he wasn¡¯t going to quit.

    He was scared. He felt like he was surrounded by sharks, and they were circling, having smelled blood in the water. But he¡¯d been scared before, and all it had done was focus him.

    The same way it was focusing him now.

    It made the choice easier to make¡ª the same way it had been before. A consideration of ethics seemed to come secondary to survival.

    He could quit. It was a genuine option, but one that he knew he wasn¡¯t going to take. He¡¯d suffered through the Comics, the competition, and Aera¡¯s bullshit. He¡¯d finally found a way to a future he¡¯d been dreaming of for years, and he¡¯d be damned if he just gave it all up. There was only one way forward. And even if it ended up swallowing him whole, he knew that he¡¯d already made the choice.

    Law enforcement had come, and asked him questions, and he¡¯d told them something similar to what he¡¯d told Aera-- only this time with much more lucidity. He mentioned Pippen Visgold, but couldn¡¯t give them anything else. They¡¯d been back a couple of times, but Hunter really couldn¡¯t remember much more.

    The smell of certain colognes, flashes of tattoos, maybe a scar or two. He remembered the mask that one of them had worn. That was all.

    They stopped coming.

    Trey had hired someone to help Hunter catch up on his school work. He would get tired at first after about an hour, but he was healing fast. By the end of the first week of catching up, he could focus for 6 hours at a stretch. Luckily, he could gloss over the Artisan coursework. It was all stuff he was mostly familiar with¡ª the few exceptions had captured most of his interest. His knowledge of glyphs and network syntax was robust, but there was always something new to consider. New angles on old concepts, small iterations to age-old solutions, some which Hunter had already discovered himself.

    The few times Hunter was genuinely surprised to learn something new were the highlights of his time in the hospital.

    The day he was finally released, he was escorted to his apartment. Along the way, he remembered to buy a coffee press and a few pounds of a medium roast from a grocery store near the hospital.

    He made himself a fresh pot, and set it on the living room table. He walked into his bedroom, and then towards the closet. He pulled out a few boxes, revealing the briefcase he was searching for. He placed it on the table beside the coffee press, and typed in the passcode. The briefcase clicked open.

    It was all exactly as he¡¯d left it.

    For Hunter, he saw, printed on the face of the topmost journal.

    Pippen, and he was sure it had to be Pippen who was behind the attack, could not be allowed to hurt him again. Hunter would not just earn a degree of Excellence, he would prove to the world that he was no rabbit to be hunted and skinned for their amusement.

    With shaking hands, he opened the journal once more, and read. This time, he wouldn¡¯t stop until he knew everything his father had discovered. If the practice turned out to confirm his fears, and he had to pay an unethical toll in order to advance, he would turn it all over to Trey. Oberon Enterprises could decide what to do with it.

    But if not, then Hunter would devote himself to the method. He would get stronger.

    He would show them all what he was capable of.

 Chapter 33

    Hunter sighed in relief after he read the last few words in the first journal his father left him.

    The first few lines of the method for practicing the internal arts was a preface, telling Hunter not to worry about having to do anything unspeakable. It was almost like his father had been self aware enough to know that Hunter would probably be disgusted by what he¡¯d done, but decided to proceed anyways. It was disturbing to think about¡ª what kind of distorted mind had his father been left with after all was said and done?

    The next line was there to assure him that it was not the internal arts which had left him in such a mental state, either. Which begged the question, what happened to his father? Had he always been capable of killing in cold blood, and Hunter had just been too naive to see it? But Trey believed that his father had been a good man as well, at least at one time in his life.

    Hunter let those thoughts drift from his mind as he focused on the method for the arts. It was difficult to piece it together. His father often diverted along tangents regarding theory and hypothesis. It was all fascinating, if he ignored how his father had gone about testing some of those theories. And he found that sometimes he could ignore it, and get lost in the information itself. The internal arts functioned on a principle which slightly deviated from the mainstream view of etherium¡ª how it flows through the body, and into a drawstone. The most common theory is that its the drawstone itself which pulls the etherium from outside the body, through the body¡¯s channels, and then into the drawstone, which can then be guided along network channels into glyphs, which makes up a construct.

    But his father discovered a small, but critical detail. The Drawstone doesn¡¯t pull in etherium from outside the body at all. Drawstone¡¯s only activate once they¡¯re connected to a human because its the human that provides the catalyst. He detailed how drawstones appear to act something like natural Link glyphs¡ª a concept already familiar to him, as before his father came along and developed the sublgyph, drawstones were cut into shards, and these shards were used to direct the flow of etherium between glyphs in a network. But a link sub-glyph could only direct etherium, it couldn¡¯t ¡®activate,¡¯ or catalyze the movement of etherium on its own.

    Once he discovered this, he started to pay attention to what was actually happening at the point of contact with etherium. He said that it was his innate sensitivity to etherium which allowed him discover how etherium only entered the body after more etherium has left. His investigations revealed a network of channels in himself and others, networks which all behaved in similar ways. The channels in the human body were like a vacuum for etherium, hungry for their fill, and appeared to tolerate etherium¡¯s absence quite poorly. These networks of channels grew as an individual aged and used drawstones, allowing more etherium to not only be stored, but move through the body. He described the network as appearing like criss-crossing veins, which led to another tangent about an alternative network channel design which utilized a similar pattern.

    Hunter had been using his fathers ill-gotten work longer that he¡¯d realized. Because it was very clear that he hadn¡¯t just been studying his own body when he was researching the nature of these channels. So by the time Hunter had discovered the journals, and decided not to read them, it had been too late.

    His father said that he found that he could, with great focus and mental effort, manipulate these channels.

    The first step was to discover them, to trace the origin (which he called the point of entry into the body) and the destination (the point where the body connects to a drawstone, typically a hand but it could be any part of the body, hypothetically. He also said that the channels were odd. They were present in the body, but he couldn¡¯t quite pinpoint where. Only that they could be felt, and manipulated.

    He also told Hunter that the hyperspatial nature of the body¡¯s channels was something that didn¡¯t appear to be a pragmatic area of research¡ª it was better to focus strictly on the manipulation of the channels themselves. To that end, he detailed exercises to help Hunter build his focus, and develop an experiential understanding of his channel network. He also told Hunter what he expected his son to find, which was his theory about the nature of Hunters AR deficiency.

    There is a period in youth where AR naturally rises¡ª the network of channels in the body grows organically, but no network appears to be the same. Some are more compact, others are more sparsely lain. Too compact of a network restricts the flow of etherium just as one that is too sparse would. The guidance of etherium requires a balance of allowing for its chaotic nature to flow as it will, but along intended lines. Too compact of a network means that the etherium is suppressed, it ends up getting backed up on itself, and rebounds right back out of the body. Too sparse of a network means that the etherium¡¯s chaotic nature is given too much space to flow unguided.

    His father said that the networks act somewhat like a shallow riverbed, but the etherium that flows through it can easily overflow, and dissipate without guidance to get it to the drawstone. According to his father¡¯s theory, something caused Hunter¡¯s natural etheric development to halt. He assumed it had something to do with their mutual sensitivity, which he believed was much stronger in his son than in himself. His best guess was the loss of his mother created an strong psychological reaction in Hunter, and the trauma had the accidental effect of suppressing his development.

    However, he believed that once he consciously came in contact with his etherium channels, he would probably find that they would go through a period of rapid growth, and he recommended that Hunter wait for a while before he starts manipulating them too drastically, at least until their natural growth begins to stagnate, as it might cause some inefficiencies later on.

    What he didn¡¯t say, however, was that there would be any damage. In fact, he said that channels don¡¯t act like normal biological structures. Like muscles, they can develop and atrophy, but damaging a network after its been established won¡¯t have too much of a negative impact on the physical body.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Once the networks were found, and understood, they could then be manipulated. His father had come up with three methods to do this.

    Contracting the channels, expanding the channels, and deepening the channels which he named, respectively: Pinch, Pull, and Hold, with a fourth method that he wrote was to only be attempted once the first three were mastered.

    His father wrote that each method took him many months to master. There would be a slight increase in AR as he gained more mastery over his channels, but the real jumps came with being able to master the final technique, not only forming channels consciously, but encouraging the development of already-existing channels. This came about by being able to pinch certain points in the network, and pull at the ¡®walls¡¯ of the channel in between those two points, and then suddenly allowing an influx of etherium into it. This trains the channels flexibility, allowing them to hold more etherium over time.

    In short, Hunter would be able to cycle the etherium along his network in a path that he chose, reinforcing that path as the dominant one it should take in the future. He could use the natural dissipation of etherium as it overflowed from a channel to help pave new channels, but he figured that reading too much into that would be like an average child trying to understand advanced calculus. He needed to work his way up to it.

    Once he¡¯d read through the journal, he came up with a training plan. He would spend an hour every morning training his focus, and increasing his awareness of his channels. From there, he would see what happened. Either his AR would naturally begin to grow, or he would have to start the process himself.

    Either way, Hunter was excited to finally have a tentative cure for his curse. With this, he might finally be able to stand above his peers without worry. He would never have to be at the mercy of a world that had proven to be nothing but cruel and cold to the likes of him. He figured he might as well use the rest of the day to practice, and so he leaned back in his couch and started to bring his attention to his breath, like his father had recommended. Every time he got distracted, he would bring his focus back to his breath.

    It was tedious, and he was surprised by how bad he was at it. But his father had said that it was all part of the process. It would take time, and he¡¯d make progress a lot faster than he¡¯d fear.

    The reassurance had felt like the father that he¡¯d always believed Gideon Koar to be. Supportive, encouraging, and reliable.

    It clashed with the image of the man who the world had come to know him by. Which Hunter had now come to know him by. The child in Hunter felt relieved that his father had looked out for him, but the man Hunter was becoming was disgusted, and felt like the feeling of comfort was a betrayal¡ª a justification of the lives taken.

    He shook his head. He had committed to this, he had decided that he would follow through, no matter what.

    It didn¡¯t matter what his father had done, not anymore. Gideon Koar was gone, and he couldn¡¯t hurt anyone else. Hunter couldn¡¯t take back the pain his father had caused, but he might as well use the legacy he¡¯d left behind. Hunter didn¡¯t owe the world anything. It wasn¡¯t up to him to balance the actions his fathers had taken.

    At this point, he figured the world owed him.

    He was surprised to find that the training took him over two hours to finish. By the time he was done, he had just enough time to eat dinner and finish the rest of the homework he¡¯d accumulated over his time at the hospital.

    Tomorrow he¡¯d be back to class.

    The day would start with martial arts, and end with History.

    Hopefully, the latter would be a palate cleanser for what was sure to be a very uncomfortable start.

    <hr>

    Jason loved the analogy of comparing Pippen to a dog. And his dog was in a very poor state.

    But if he¡¯d had a real dog who¡¯d just put up such a miserable display, he wouldn¡¯t have hesitated to put it down. He¡¯d known Aera was strong and capable, but Jason had invested much of the small amount of wealth afforded to him by his family in order to foster Pippen¡¯s more ruthless instincts.

    He¡¯d put him up against worse odds that Aera was supposed to present. Pippen was strong, mean, and had sent his fair share of young men to hospitals over the years¡ª mostly at Jason¡¯s discretion.

    But he''d overstepped with Hunter.

    Jason was willing to see that as his own mistake. He had turned Pippen into a very focused young man, but that focus seemed to take on a very inflexible trend. The dog knew how to hunt and play fetch, but perhaps Jason had leaned Pippen into his baser instincts a bit too much. He hadn¡¯t realized that Hunter was more frail than he looked. He¡¯d recognized the possibility of Aera taking a move this early in the game as a personal invitation, but he¡¯d hoped that Pippen would be a bit more discrete with how he approached the situation.

    He hadn¡¯t expected the dog to lead the attack himself with so little forethought. He¡¯d taught him better. It made him wonder if Pippen had ever followed his instructions in the past, to attack at from a distance. At the end of the day, it was the smarter play, even if getting close and personal would be more satisfying.

    And that answered the question, didn¡¯t it? Pippen¡¯s personality had become all about satisfying the animal in him. Jason was surprised by his own lack of foresight in this matter.

    But what was done was done.

    Jason had made the only move available to him. He had to sacrifice the pipsqeak for his own survival. Aera was forcing his hand.

    That¡¯s what he told himself.

    And he liked the thought. It made him mad, not just angry, but it gave him that hint of instability he¡¯d grown to enjoy. It made him willing to do things other¡¯s wouldn¡¯t. It made him ambitious.

    Aera was the perfect whetstone for his ascension. When the Oberon¡¯s were removed, the Chan¡¯s would rise to take their place.

    But he needed some help. Pippen¡¯s overreach might have put things a bit outside of Jason¡¯s ability to handle.

    He decided to call in some support.

    He dialed a number, and waited for the line to connect.

    ¡°Edith Chan.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s me, mum.¡±

    ¡°Jason, dear. How are you?¡±

    ¡°I may have made a small miscalculation.¡±

    His mother was silent for a second. She was very clear about the sort of circumstance which would justify her intervention. She¡¯d warned him many times.

    ¡°Would this have anything to do with all the drama surrounding the Oberons?¡±

    He hesitated to admit it. It was difficult for him to ask for help in the first place.

    ¡°It would,¡± he said through clenched teeth.

    ¡°I see,¡± she said, ¡°I¡¯ll make some inquiries, but it will take some time. Be prepared for my call.¡±

    She hung up, and Jason signed once more. Getting his mother involved was always unpleasant. She would never let him live it down. But he¡¯d learned a lot from her, about people, about how to make people do what he wanted.

    In a way, it could be said that the Chan family was acting according to his mothers unifying vision. The Chan¡¯s had always been ambitions, but before Edith Chan was born, they were skittish and squirrely-- content with the scraps they could snatch from high society. Edith had decided she¡¯d wanted more.

    She¡¯d raised Jason to want the same thing.

    At this point, whatever happened next was out of Jason¡¯s hands. His mother would come up with a plan. She always knew what to do.

    He just had to wait, and then do what he was told, and then he would come out on top. Barnum would still be his. Such was his faith in his family.

 Chapter 34

    Hunter was pleased to find that the history department was actually situated in the soul of the campus. Although their guide had been mostly correct when he¡¯d shown Hunter and Aera the sightseeing tour when they¡¯d first arrived at Barnum, he¡¯d neglected to mention that there were classes held in some of those rooms.

    Unfortunately, the Foundations of Martial Arts class was located a bit further away, and had gone exactly how he¡¯d assumed. News of his attack had apparently made the rounds over the last month. He¡¯d received a lot of attention when he showed up, which was something he was growing used to. The reactions ran the usual gamut, from pity, to curiosity, to scorn. Even the the instructor¡ª a man named Immanuel who refused to be called a professor¡ª was skeptical about Hunters presence, especially after he¡¯d run Hunter through a fitness test, something he should have gone through had he been able to attend the class from the beginning.

    His time with Aera had done wonders for his endurance, but he was still far from adequate enough to keep up with everyone else.

    When it was clear Hunter was done, the instructor let him sit to the side for the rest of the class. He ignored the looks he got from everyone, including Instructor Immanuel, and instead of lamenting over his poor physique he used that time to practice some of focusing techniques. He figured if he wanted to make the most progress he could in the shortest period of time, he needed to take advantage of any free time he had. The focusing exercises didn¡¯t require hours and hours¡ª although it was better to dive into deeper states of focus over those longer periods, but even 15 minutes would be enough to help with easing the transition into a focused state, at the very least.

    He found that when he went deep enough, time seemed to melt away. Even the short session he did during the class felt like mere minutes before the class was dismissed. Hunter¡¯s next class wouldn¡¯t start for an hour, so he had time to go and get changed before grabbing a snack and a coffee. Then he was on his way to the soul.

    It made sense, he figured, that the most historically dense place on campus would be where history was taught. He¡¯d spent some time looking into his teacher, but couldn¡¯t find much about the man aside from his name, and a short mention about a successful career in archaeology and translating ancient languages, especially Asutnahem. Having seen that, Hunter felt that he¡¯d made the right choice with taking his elective. His interest in the Asutnahem went beyond his previous desire to feel closer to his father. Now it was more personal. The Asutnahem had a lot of mystery surrounding them, and Hunter¡¯s intuition told him that those mysteries were worth the time it would take to wrap his head around.

    Not just for the potential to discover ancient glyphs. The tale of the Journeyer had struck a chord in him, ever since he had seen it. It was like it planted as seed in him, that slowly took root and began to sprout. He saw a lot of himself in the Journeyer, and he figured that many would see a reflection of the events in their lives. Making do with what you have in order to cross a great gap of uncertainty; It spoke of the human soul, and challenges which human beings encounter, and the inner strength that it cultivates. He wondered what else the Asutnahem had in store for him.

    Everything that had happened to him so far seemed to point in in the direction of finding strength, which was like the woman inviting the Journeyer across the chasm. Hunters tools to cross that chasm were his fathers journals. He¡¯d realized that he was in the process of discovering something about himself, something that was slightly unnerving but nevertheless appeared to be working for him.

    He wasn¡¯t who he thought he was.

    In fact, he was both better and worse than he thought he was. His tenacity had brought him pride, yet the flexibility of his integrity had given him pause. He wondered if he were the kind of men to constantly bend to circumstances. So far, he¡¯d betrayed his old ideals and not only joined a corporation, but a Council family. Granted, Trey didn¡¯t cut quite the same figure of the greedy executives he always used to imagine, but the fact remained.

    It was the same with the journals, and with the Internal Arts. What surprised Hunter the most is that the guilt felt skin deep. When he really questioned himself, and confronted the idea that what he was doing might be the wrong choice, he found that didn¡¯t regret his choices.

    Actually, that wasn¡¯t true. His choices had brought him face to face with Aera. So there was some regret.

    ¡°Good morning, class. Good to see you all again, and it looks like we have a new face!¡± Professor Jackson broke Hunter out of his contemplation as he walked into the classroom. He had a large, over-stuffed satchel filled with what Hunter could only guess were tomes of great wisdom. The man was short, chubby, and had tufts of long grey hair shooting out from under a green trilby hat. He wore a tweed jacket, a thick pair of blue jeans. This man was exactly what Hunter had been imagining when he¡¯d first heard about the history professor.

    He looked like a man who would teach history. You could see it, even if you were to encounter him randomly on the street. You would just know that the man had devoted his life to studying the past.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡ª¡± Hunter started to say, but Professor Jackson held up a hand.

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me. Let me see,¡± he said, running his finger down a list, ¡°Ah, Mr. Hunter Oberon Koar. Well then Mr. Koar, welcome to my class¡ª such as it is. Now, where were we? Last class I believe we were talking about the 4th Illaic dynasty, correct?¡±

    The class shared confused looks with each other. Professor Jackson frowned.

    ¡°No? That must be next class, then. Can someone remind me what we covered, last time?¡±

    A young man at the front of the class raised his hand.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Professor Jackson invited him to speak.

    ¡°We were talking about the Asutnahem influence of early Illaic symbolism.¡±

    If lightbulbs really did go off in peoples heads when they had a moment of epiphany, Hunter imagined that Professor Jacksons head must be filled with a dozen of them, at least.

    ¡°Then I was about to introduce you to my favorite area of research, one near and dear to my heart. Do any of you know what I did in my past life? Before becoming an esteemed professor of history, that is. Anyone?¡±

    Hunter raised his hand.

    ¡°Mr. Koar¡±

    ¡°I read that you were an archaeologist and translator.¡±

    ¡°Among other things, but you¡¯re mostly correct. You see how the two go hand in hand, yes? Good. I¡¯ve spent a considerable portion of my life immersed in ancient languages, studying not only meaning, but how meaning evolved throughout the ages. And I''ve discovered some very wonderful things. Oh, I should stop there, before I get in trouble.¡±

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    The man had a look in his eye that gave Hunter the impression that he had no intention on stopping himself from saying whatever he was planning on saying.

    ¡°Ah, who cares. If anyone asks, tell them I started to digress and that I warned you all sufficiently that what I¡¯m about to tell you is far from the consensus. In fact, I tried to have this information included in the syllabus, but alas, the world doesn¡¯t appear ready for what I have to share,¡± Professor Jackson sighed.

    He picked up some chalk and started to jot down a word on the chalkboard behind him, and in his enthusiasm the chalk slipped from his hand and split as it hit the floor, but the man¡¯s passion was untouched.

    ¡°What does that say?¡± He asked the class.

    ¡°Sanctuary,¡± someone called out.

    ¡°Sanctuary! Yes, our home, no? Sanctuary, safety, home. It makes sense that our ancestors, and having made homes in caves, and who had braved untamed wilds¡ª clawing their way up through the food chain¡ª would come to find great solace in the place they called ¡®home.¡¯ These homes would multiply, combine, and migrate, culminating in great empires throughout history.

    By my colleagues estimation, the Asutnahem were little better than bronze-age cultural savages. Oh, they had some degree of etheric knowledge, and their symbolic lineages and arts are quite matured compared to some later civilizations, but make no mistake! They were far less sophisticated than we are. At least, that¡¯s what my colleagues would have you believe,¡± he said, underlining the word on the board.

    ¡°Sanctuary, where does the name come from? It came from the ancient Illaic word for the world which we inhabit, which we have traced back through the ancient Mideni Kingdoms, whose word for homeland, or country, eventually made its way to the Illaic peoples, whose literature and social dramas we so enjoy today. But before all of that, my contemporaries would have you believe that such a word evolved from the Asutnahem word for safe haven, or home. Do we agree?¡±

    He asked the class, but it didn¡¯t take a genius to understand that the question was rhetorical.

    ¡°Perhaps. There is good reason to believe it, but my studies have revealed another possibility altogether. The Asutnahem are quite a puzzle, are they not? Want to know something? A very dirty little secret which many of my colleagues would refuse to admit I assure you. The Asutnahem language, as we know it, is full of holes. Deep, dark holes that could recontextualize everything we think we know about them. For instance,¡± the professor picked up some more chalk and started sketching out a series of lines and curves on the board behind him.

    ¡°Who recognizes it? None of you? Right, its a bit advanced and you wouldn¡¯t have seen it until your 3rd year of studies. This is a line from an Asutnahem scroll which, depending on who you ask, is either a verse from an epic-length poem, a record of real estate, a reference to a blanket, or a pronouncement of an Asutnahem priest.

    ¡®Folded over the land which we lay down our heads¡¯, is the supposed meaning of this phrase. It¡¯s an approximate translation and you will find many others who disagree to varying degrees. But most will say, its accurate enough,¡± he said, though his voice was mocking.

    ¡°And guess what? They¡¯re wrong. Even the ones who disagree are wrong. Everyone is so, so, so wrong. Look. See these lines here? The Asutnahem language evolved over millennia¡ª yes, they were around for a long, long time. These lines disappeared over time,¡± his voice rose to a higher pitch as he spoke, and he circled certain dashes and curves in the text he''d written on the board.

    ¡°We can track linguistic drift throughout Asutnahem history. What a word means now is not necessarily what it will mean a century or two from now, let alone 9 centuries. Understand? So how are we supposed to expect this line here,¡± he circled the words he had written, and then punctuated the action by underlining it, ¡°to mean the same thing to the nth generation of descendants of the individual who wrote it? Its absolutely absurd. Take any religion in modern times¡ª how many interpretations are their of the exact same text? How many translatations, and disagreements on translations, do we have to deal with? Future historians are going to have an absolute mess on their hands trying to track that particular memetic genealogy, mark my words,¡± he said, scratching his head and considering the chalkboard once more.

    ¡°Anyways, where was I?¡± he mumbled to himself, and then he struck a victorious finger up into the air, ¡°Right, I¡¯ve spent the last few years using this phrase as a marker, an ¡®anchor¡¯, if you will. I¡¯ve traced the genealogy of these words as far backwards and forwards as I can, and the entire phrase can be condensed into two words in our current language.

    "The line contains two points of interest. See here, ¡®the land which we lay down our heads,¡¯ and that this land is being ¡®folded over¡¯. Yet, this line is complete. Complete? You ask. Yes, complete, as in the idea conveyed is implied to contain all it needs in order to transmit a full packet of meaning to the intended recipient.

    "My studies have seen various versions of ¡®folded over¡¯, bubbling up all over the Asutnahem timeline. Recently, an archaeological dig uncovered what is believed to be an old Asutnahem recipe book. It took a couple of years to translate most of it, but the context that this phrase appears within implies that ¡®folded over¡¯ originally meant¡ª and this book was written within the same linguistic era as the document that our anchor was written in¡ª it originally meant ¡®enclosed,¡¯ or ¡®contained.¡¯

    "So. This changes the entire phrase, does it not? Now what we have is, ¡®Contained¡¯ and, ¡®the land which we lay down our heads. So, what? A bedroom? Perhaps a house? Yes, it would certainly seem so. But I was not content with that answer. I had a gut feeling, you see? Pay attention to those,¡± the professor paused his lecture, staring each of them in the eye, ¡°very important. Damn the consequences, go with your gut.¡±

    ¡°Where was I? Land which we lay down, right. I was going to say that, believe it or not, laying down our heads has nothing to do with the original translation¡ª or I suppose it does, but its peripherally related. This one was more complex, and I''ll save you from the long, messy road that I had to travel to get to where I¡¯ve gotten now. But I suppose I can give you the cliff notes. The ¡®laying down of heads¡¯ is an Illaic phrase, a poetic statement that gained popularity throughout their culture quite rapidly.

    ¡°Much of the work they did in translating history was sloppy, which was hardly their fault, there were many pressures influencing that¡ª but I digress. We now have enough information to understand that the ¡®laying down of heads¡¯ they believed they found in the Asutnahem language came from a late-Asutnahem text which described the passage of time, from dawn till dusk¡ª which I¡¯ve found correlates to an entire preserved body of work describing a very strange cosmology.

    ¡°What is ''contained'', what is the phrase saying is ''contained''? It is the land which we lay down our heads, but this land is presented in a greater context, one which the Asutnahem descendants used to describe not just the land, but the passing of time as marked by the sun. The land, the sun, the stars. The development of ecosystems, the process of change. The world! The world! Or, more specifically, and this is a very important nuance, a world. The world implies a singular, specific world. But ¡®a¡¯ world implies one among others. If I¡¯m right, and I do believe that I am, then this phrase means: ¡®a contained world¡¯.¡±

    He paused. The implication was sinking in.

    ¡°You¡¯re saying they knew?¡± Hunter asked, his head spinning at the revelation. But how could they? They wouldn¡¯t have had any way of leaving the world.

    ¡°They knew!¡± the professor said.

    ¡°Ridiculous,¡± one of the students said. The professor laughed.

    ¡°Then prove me wrong,¡± the professor shrugged, ¡°you can¡¯t, obviously. You¡¯re all young and have no idea about any of this. But my colleagues have yet to give me any evidence which can contradict my discovery. Until they do, I will continue to believe that at the very least, the Asutnahem had an understanding of our world that we are only recently beginning to catch up to.¡±

    The professor checked his watch.

    ¡°We still have quite a bit of time left, and we should probably get you all back on track. Thank you all for entertaining my little rant. Now, Illaic symbolism, was it? Right¡­¡±

    Hunter couldn¡¯t believe his luck. He had attended this class out of all the others¡ª just in time to hear one of the most incredible digressions he¡¯d ever heard. The rest of the class passed by in a blur, Hunters mind constantly returning to Professor Jacksons¡¯ speech.

    The Asutnahem knew? It was an incredible claim, one that Hunter would want to have verified as soon as possible. But who could he talk to about this?

    He¡¯d be disappointed if this turned out to an elaborate crackpot theory. But the implications¡ª did the Asutnahem have a presence beyond their world? If not, how did they discover that the world had an edge, that it was ¡®contained?¡¯

    Trey would probably be interested in the professor¡¯s work. Maybe he¡¯d know someone who could verify the claims.

 Chapter 35

    Hunter had been practicing for a week, the professor¡¯s digression having been forgotten in a haze of ideas about synergies, and anxiety about his evening sessions with Aera. But his own practice with focusing had been going well. He¡¯d been making steady progress, and found himself eager for each day¡¯s practice session.

    Breathe in, breathe out. Quiet the mind.

    He put his attention on the body, then the sounds he could hear, and he closed his eyes and noticed the effortless darkness where once there was light.

    Breathe in, effortless, breathe out, effortless.

    Hunter continued the cycle of breathing, finding his body relaxing on its own. He¡¯d never truly understood what it was like to truly relax before starting these exercises his father had shared with him. He wrote that he had learned him from a priest, during a brief time when he¡¯d dabbled with religion, and found them to be instrumental in learning how to quiet the mind.

    The key was to let it quiet itself. Keep your attention diffuse, focus softly on the inhale, the pause, the exhale, the pause. Notice thoughts as objects in their own space, separate from the breath, seperate from the body. It took a bit of practice, and he¡¯d kept reacting to thoughts at first, thinking that¡¯s what his father had meant by ¡®noticing¡¯ them. But then he¡¯d realized that with the right balance of alertness and relaxation, ¡®noticing¡¯ happened naturally.

    Hunter felt that this alone was worth reading the journals for.

    He realized he was distracted, and brought his attention back to his body. Then the sounds, then the effortless dark, then the cycling breath.

    The stopwatch went off, and he breathed out once more before slowly opening his eyes, feeling refreshed, but he also felt a bit drowsy. Sometimes, during these hour-long afternoon sessions, he would doze off to sleep.

    He¡¯d bought the stopwatch the first day he¡¯d woken up and realize he¡¯d slept for 4 hours. Something about falling asleep after having been in a deep state of focus would cause him to have incredibly vivid dreams. Sometimes, he wouldn¡¯t fall asleep, but he would experience memories which would have a dream-like distance to them. Not anything significant¡ª so far, only the most mundane visions of his past would replay for him. Finding a cool rock, staring at the ceiling back at the old Koar estate, the first time he broke an egg yolk while trying to cook for himself.

    Sometimes, he would suddenly have an exciting creative insight into synergies, or understanding a problem he¡¯d run into while doing homework for his classes.

    And while he was in a deeply focused state¡ª no visions, no dreams, totally present and alert, he would begin to feel incredible. It could last for seconds, or multiple minutes. His father had called these moments ¡®Jhanas,¡¯ and said that although they were pleasant, they were not the goal and it was important to learn how to remain focused, even in the presence of such heightened pleasant sensations.

    Hunter stood from the couch and grabbed another cup of coffee. He felt that soon, his focus would be strong enough to start focusing inwards on the presence of his ether channels. He¡¯d been doing this practice for a week, about ?th of the time his father had recommended he should before attempting any insight training, but Hunter felt that his ability to focus was progressing quite rapidly.

    Staying concentrated wasn¡¯t a problem. He¡¯d sought deeper concentration to work with in Seckina, pushing more and more attention into client jobs and research. Not only as an escape from the outside world, but the ability to stay focused on work for 10 hours at a stretch helped him survive.

    With a coffee in hand, Hunter left his home, walking to the Etheric Arts department which he was grateful to find was located only a few blocks away. He battled himself along the way, remembering that the more coffee he drank on the way, the less he would have when he got there. Rationing his supply was essential to a productive work day.

    Although, as he thought about it, he felt that it was entirely possible that a building dedicated to the fostering and advancement of artisans would probably be stocked full of coffee machines, so its not like he¡¯d run out.

    But was he really willing to settle for less than the best? His short time at the Oberon estate had changed his relationship to coffee. On Stewarts recommendation, he sampled a few coffees without any cream or sugar, getting an idea of how different beans tasted, how the region they were grown in effected the taste, and then trying them each with various amount of cream and sugar.

    He found that lighter roasts were easier to drink black than the dark blends, but the darker blends were tastier with cream and sugar. It reminded him of his conversation with Trey, when Trey was telling him his dad had very strong opinions about how coffee should be drank.

    He was right, it was like a candy, and even more addictive. But in Hunters view, with the right bean, cream and sugar enhanced the coffee experience completely. It was a whole new drink.

    Hunter had brought along his third arm, and locked the rest of his custom tools in a locker that he¡¯d been assigned when he¡¯d been officially registered for the Artisanship course. Aside from the locker, they would be able to reserve a workstation for up to 3 hours a day outside of class time. It wasn¡¯t much time, in Hunters opinion, but he¡¯d take what he could get. The workstations were segregated, so Hunter could work in privacy.

    As part of the hefty enrollment fee for the course, the students were given almost total access to a warehouse full of materials. Like the workstations themselves, there was a limit. But it would serve Hunters needs. Today he was researching more Force-related synergies. He¡¯d had a hit of inspiration earlier, and wanted to test out his thoughts.

    Hunter found that it was much easier to get into the groove after practicing with his focus for the last week. The three hours passed by in a flash, and Hunter felt a bit of disappointment. His intitial hyptothesis hadn¡¯t panned out, but it had opened up more interesting questions that he was itching to pursue.

    He needed to find a way to get a workstation in his room. Having to purposefully cut his research short felt a subtle form of torture, but he wasn¡¯t like the rest of the students here. Most people would find the three hours to be more than enough for small projects, typically associated with class-work.

    Hunter had been given a make-up assignment for all the missed projects. He was given free reign to demonstrate a working knowledge of the subject fields which had been covered over the last month. The class had done a project a week for the time he¡¯d been in the hospital, and Hunter had taken half a day to plan and prepare the perfect construct to impress his teacher.

    Why exceed expectations, when you could set a new standard? Hunter needed to earn an Excellence degree, and merely proving that he was up to speed with the rest of his peers wouldn¡¯t get him any closer to that. The syllabus showed that they¡¯d soon be covering wireless etherium networks. They¡¯d briefly covered the Force glyph, with the promise of a more advanced dive into the field later in their second year, while the weeks before that were spent covering fundamentals that most of them knew already.

    Hunter decided to fuse what he knew about wireless networks and Force glyphs. He used a few tricks to gain more efficiency, but he didn¡¯t want to come out of the gate swinging synergies left and right. Like the global youth artisan competition, they would need to be used strategically. There were many ambitious people at the school, and he¡¯d already seen just how dirty some people were willing to play to further their agenda.

    One of the journals in the briefcase was devoted to all the neat tricks and shortcuts his father had discovered during his long career. Nothing like his synergies, of course, and they were probably standard at a certain level of Artisanship, but they would serve Hunter nonetheless.

    Before the competition, and before observing the kind of people he was sharing his class with, Hunter had prided himself on being some unique etheric genius. But he had utterly discounted the natural genius that had preceded him. Others may not have his sensitivity, but that doesn¡¯t mean they didn¡¯t have the same drive. Passion was passion, as Trey would probably agree.

    Aera hadn¡¯t been wrong. His peers were the best of the best for their age group, and probably beyond. The class itself was even smaller than his history class. There were only about a dozen Artisans in his class, and there weren¡¯t many other classes for their year. In Hunters estimation, he would be up against about 100 students, all striving for Excellence.

    He let his first project be a demonstration of his talent, his potential, and his drive.

    Stolen novel; please report.

    His final product was a two-part shield device. It wasn¡¯t portable, and it was pretty short ranged, but Hunter was working with limited tools. He figured that the limitations would be dramatically outweighed by the novelty. He was sure that the technology existed, but Hunter felt like he¡¯d broken new ground for himself, and was hitting far above his age group. It was a prototype, and he was sure that with more time to plan and craft, along with some better materials, he could improve the product by a significant degree, and that was before he started adding synergies to it.

    The shield had an AR requirement of 19. He¡¯d confirmed it by asking a few of the students who were present in the workshop to help him gauge it. He imagined that he could probably increase it to about 30, and then decrease it by another 5 or 6 points with a syntax which featured some of his secret sauce.

    He figured he might actually be onto something. He would need to talk to Trey about getting in front of some Oberon Artisans, and see if they agreed with the tech¡¯s potential.

    He¡¯d gotten full marks plus a bonus, but would still considered to be behind the rest of the class. Hunter would need to push himself to catch up, but he wasn¡¯t anticipating any obstacles in the future. The end of year project would be a group project, and that would constitute 20 percent of his final grade.

    Hunter would need to get full marks on every assignment to come at the very least, in order to ensure that he was considered an Excellence candidate. The degree of Excellence wouldn¡¯t be announced until the completion of studies, after the third year.

    As he walked home, and prepared for his evening tutoring session with Aera, he wondered what his life would look like by then. His life had changed so dramatically in just a mere couple of months.

    Will it be him who earns that degree of Excellence, or will he have become someone else entirely, someone who he¡¯d hardly recognize?

    <hr>

    Aera considered the walking skeleton as it heaved on the crashmat.

    ¡°It¡¯s not time for a break yet, get up,¡± Aera said, watching Hunters reaction for any sign of protest. Anything more than a second¡¯s hesitation to start getting up, any sign that he was losing motivation. But despite his clear exhaustion, he pushed himself up without so much as a complaint.

    Not that she was expecting any, at this point. Any vocal resistance to her style of training had fallen away during their first weeks together. Since then, he¡¯d quietly shown up and did as he was told.

    And slowly, very slowly, over time, he would progress. The length of time the sessions took had increased from around half an hour, to just over an hour. The first few days after his recovery had been rough, but his endurance had bounced back pretty quickly.

    They started the drill again. This time, she planned to throw him off a bit.

    ¡°How are you finding your classes?¡± she asked, waiting for the pause. He froze for a second, considering her question, realizing too late that it was a trap. By the time he was reacting, she had a foot in his stomach, and shoved him back towards the crashmat.

    She didn¡¯t take any pleasure in it. It was how she imagined it would be to spar with a child. There was no challenge, no stakes. Hunter seemed frustrated, both with her and himself. She didn¡¯t let his attitude bother her. She wondered if he¡¯d be able to channel the frustration into progress.

    He got up from the mat without her prompting, and they went again. Block the jab, then the hook, then the uppercut, then the front kick.

    ¡°They¡¯re going good,¡± he said, blocking a roundhouse. She smirked. Looks like his attitude wasn¡¯t as bad she thought it was.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be throwing in some more surprises, watch out for them,¡± she warned as they started the next drill. Hunter nodded, even as she began.

    Jab.

    ¡°Making any friends?¡± she asked, as he blocked the jab. It was a bit sloppy. He was getting tired, but she could tell he was trying not to let it show. He didn¡¯t visibly react to her question, staying focused on the routine.

    Hook, uppercut, front kick.

    ¡°Not yet,¡± he said, his eyes going wide as he managed to dodge out of the way of the jab she threw out. He¡¯d thrown himself off balance but managed to catch himself before falling over.

    She could follow up and punish the mistake, but she let him have his small victory. It was important to balance reward and punishment.

    He got back into position, and they went again.

    This time, she started with the hook. It caught him by surprise, his first reaction being to block for a jab, and then panicking when he realized it wasn¡¯t going to work.

    She pulled back a bit on the impact, but he still winced.

    Sometimes, she felt bad for having to put him through this. But she never let it get to her. It was good for him. Since he was strong enough to persist with the training, she would do her job and toughen him up. He would never be a good fighter, he just wasn¡¯t strong enough. But he¡¯d proven that he can get stronger, and survive more.

    She wondered if their month of training had been the difference between life and death. It was all the more motivation not to take it easy on him. She glanced at the time, just over an hour. Hunter was clearly tired, but he was still standing, and still seemed to have some juice left in him.

    ¡°You¡¯re doing better, Hunter,¡± she said, ¡°a couple of months ago you¡¯d be twitching in a puddle of sweat by now.¡±

    He seemed taken off guard by her compliment. An opening, like any other.

    ¡°Don¡¯t let it get to your head. You¡¯re doing better, but you¡¯ve got a long way to go.¡±

    Hunter nodded, but the usual grief she¡¯d expected to see in his body language didn¡¯t appear. This time, he just nodded.

    ¡°You¡¯re right. Thanks, Aera,¡± he said.

    For all her talk about teaching him to keep his guard up, she felt her own slip.

    That was the first time he¡¯d thanked her.

    It felt weird. She¡¯d expect to feel nothing much at all, but she was surprised to find herself feeling vindicated. What was that about?

    She¡¯d take some time to understand it later. Now, it was her turn to learn. They both took some time to stretch and cool off after the workout, and then made their way to the apartment building. After the attack, they both decided it would be best if she walked back with him.

    It would be easier if Barnum allowed students to have bodyguards on the campus, but some old rule which had been established when they realized that the uber-rich children would be playing political games on their campus dictated that they were to remain unguarded.

    Typically, one would think that their parents wouldn¡¯t agree to that. And most didn¡¯t, at least until they understood that if they wanted to teach their children how to play real world power games, they would have to teach them real world consequences.

    Most years, it would be fine. Violence was rare, and only happened to a few.

    But this year was clearly different. Not enough had happened to justify any rules being lifted, but Aera had heard that not only her father, but other parents were starting to grow concerned over the sorts of games their children were playing away from home.

    Her father was also acting strangely. He was clearly trying to honor her independence, but he¡¯d been more insistent about her being careful then she¡¯d expected. Something was bothering him, and it wasn¡¯t just what happened to Hunter.

    So, in the spirit of being careful, she was escorting the dweeb herself. They decided that there was no reason why they couldn¡¯t eat while Hunter taught her about constructs. She¡¯d come to realize that he was something of an endless font of information on the subject, and although he struggled with articulating that knowledge, he was getting better at it.

    She was learning a lot, and realizing just how big of a gap she would need to cross in order to catch up to him. In fact, she was starting to rethink her goal.

    Her deal with her father was that she¡¯d only needed to earn two degrees of excellence, then he would immediately begin fast-tracking her for a board-level placement. If she didn¡¯t, she would have to start much lower and although inheriting her fathers position was inevitable, she wanted more authority as fast as possible.

    She needed to start building her network within the company. It would make the eventual handover much more efficient, and while her father was in power, it would allow her to be of more assistance.

    She had no desire to take the company from her father, she truly cared about the company and at the moment her father was the best man to lead it, in her opinion. Sure, she might be biased, but he was probably the greatest man she knew. She felt incredibly fortunate to be his daughter, and would take every opportunity she could to learn from him.

    Even if it meant learning how to deflate her own ego.

    The more time she spent with Hunter, the more she¡¯d started to value what he might be able to bring to the family, or the company at the very least. She believed she was starting to see the potential that her father believed he held. It had been abstract before, and she hadn¡¯t even been certain that he could sustain the workload.

    Especially after having suffered two significant attacks, one from the abolitionists, and again from Pippen. Yet, as soon as he was able to, he would get right back to the grind, more driven than ever.

    She wondered if it was healthy, but so far she hadn¡¯t seen any signs that the obstacles had been anything but empowering.

    They finished their session, and Aera felt like it had been a good day. There hadn¡¯t been any movement in her investigation into Jason, but she wasn¡¯t expecting any for a while. All she could do was wait and see.

    If he went on the assault, she would take it as evidence of guilt. If he didn¡¯t, she would continue to wait and see.

    The majority of her time had been spent planning for different scenarios. She would constantly evaluate her vulnerabilities, and would take steps to ensure that she was covered. If she couldn¡¯t cover herself, she¡¯d find a way to mitigate the damage, enough to make a counterplay.

    It was surprising how combat could be extrapolated to all kinds of things, and if there was one thing Aera understood, it was combat.

    But Jason was crafty. The social field was more difficult to fight on, the variables were exponentially more complex, but that was just a matter of experience. Just like Aera had trained her whole life to fight, Jason had been training his whole life to manipulate.

    He was ambitious, too. She was beginning to think he was too ambitious. His relationship with the Visgold kid made her wonder what his family had planned. There was no way the relationship was an accident.

    A family like his kept close track of their children''s associations, cutting away those that didn¡¯t serve the family as a whole.

    Something fishy was going on, and Aera wasn¡¯t sure it was entirely up to her to find out. Her father was running his own investigations, which were heavily informed by her impressions.

    As soon as he found anything of note, he would let her know. But she had a feeling that something big was going down. She couldn¡¯t quite explain why, it was a gut instinct. It made her nervous, but she knew how to handle nerves. She would play it as safe as possible, but her sense of caution was warring with her sense of justice.

    At the moment, the only thing she was focused on was their image. But now that she¡¯d shown that she had some fight in her, she might as well go all in.

    She smiled. How would Jason react if she called him with an offer he couldn¡¯t refuse?

    To her surprise, Jason called first.

 Chapter 36

    Hunter unboxed the package which he¡¯d found outside his door and smiled as the little personal affinity recorder slid out onto his living room table. He held it in his hand. There was a small sheet of paper with instructions, which consisted of an illustrated finger manipulating a small on/off switch along the side of the device.

    Hunter toggled the device on, and held it in his hand. He felt the etherium move through him, and the device beeped.

    It still showed 5. He shrugged, not expecting much of a change. Learning how to focus and relax wasn¡¯t the method, it was just the prerequisite. Hopefully, his session today would bear the fruit he¡¯d been anticipating over the week and a half of training he¡¯d been committing to.

    It was still a lot earlier than his father had recommended, but Hunter could was able to accomplish what he needed in order to start directing his focus inwards, whatever that meant.

    Today, he would begin the process of discovering his etheric channels.

    He took out a notebook and recorded the date on the first page, and wrote down the result which he¡¯d received from the device. He set down his pen, and started to get himself into a focused state of mind.

    He relaxed, and let his mind settle over the course of 20 minutes. Then he started to bring his attention to his breath, following it as long as he could, noticing the space of thoughts so as not to get caught up in them.

    Inhale, and exhale. Again and again, over, and over. Then the sequence of breaths gave way to a single breath as time seemed to melt away, then a single inhale, then a single exhale, until it was just the moment, and the movement.

    His stopwatch softly chimed. Hunter slowly opened his eyes. He picked up the small drawstone he¡¯d brought with him, lying just beside the affinity device. It was about the size of a large pebble, maybe half an inch at its widest. It would allow him to use it for longer, searching for the flow of ether.

    The first step his father recommended was finding the place where the etherium left the channels and entered the drawstone, then he would be able to slowly trace them out.He could feel the etherium in the drawstone, in its default state, undistorted by a glyph. He could feel it begin to dissipate from the drawstone, but lost track of the feeling shortly after it wafted away, a millimeter or so from the edge of the stone itself.

    Hunter brought his attention back to the tactile sense of the stone in his hand, analyzing the space around that sensation, looking for a sense of etherium leaving his body.

    He got sidetracked by doubts for a moment. What if he didn¡¯t actually have channels? What if this whole exercise was pointless because he was somehow uniquely disqualified from practicing it? Then he realized that they were just thoughts, and he brought his attention back to where he needed it to be.

    The stopwatch beeped. Hunter frowned. That had been an hour? He put the drawstone down, measured his AR, and recorded the result in the notebook.

    Still 5.

    The possibility of making no progress had been significant, but he still felt disappointed. He¡¯d hoped that he would have more of an advantage in this exercise than his father had. Maybe he could bypass the month it took his father to discover his own channels, and reduce it down to a single session. After all, even his father had said that Hunters sensitivity was likely stronger than his own.

    Hunter boiled some water, already having put the coffee grinds into the press. He decided to leave the notebook, AR device, and drawstone on the table. It felt appropriate to start making that the spot for practice. He could always move them out of the way if he had homework.

    Hunter had two classes that day, martial arts and artisanship. A small part of him briefly demanded to skip the martial arts class, but he shook his head. Something was telling him that the class was worth it, even if at the moment it felt more like an exercise in humiliation. But over the last couple of weeks, Hunter had noticed improvements. The worst of the embarrassment came just after he¡¯d recovered from his injuries.

    Since then, he could run longer, do more pushups and sit-ups, and get through all the hundreds of repetitions of drills that the instructor demanded of them. Aera agreed to skip her portion of their nightly tutoring on the days he had this class, as he would find it difficult to get through the whole thing, having already been worn out from the morning class.

    Speaking of the sessions, he was happy to find that Aera seemed willing to talk to him more. He was starting to realize that her harsh approach¡ª while having an element of malevolence at first, appeared to be a genuine attempt to help him.

    It had taken this long to realize it, but she wasn¡¯t a mean-spirited person. She was just incredibly driven, and cared deeply about her father, and their family legacy. She had lost her mother when she was younger, much like Hunter had. Unlike Hunter, Aera actually remembered her mother, and her father had played a more active part in her life than his had.

    Despite Hunters distance to his father over the last few years of his life, hadn¡¯t he been his fathers biggest fan? What if his father had been more present?

    Maybe he would feel the same way Aera had, if their roles were reversed.

    As Hunter reached the change-room that attached to the studio his class would be held at, he found himself feeling like being an Oberon wasn¡¯t so bad. Trey had been nothing but supportive in the short time he¡¯d known him, and hadn¡¯t treated him at all like a mere business partner.

    He didn¡¯t like Aera, but he felt like he was starting to see her as more than just a necessary evil. In fact, sometimes he even felt himself looking forward to their evening sessions. He was getting noticeably stronger, and he had a lot to learn from her. And if she continued to warm up to him, maybe he could do the same. Maybe one day they could even be friends.

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    <hr>

    Hunter finished his 8th pushup and nearly collapsed just as he was about to finish the 9th. He lay with his cheek against the blue-matted classroom floor.

    It was an improvement, at least. He could barely do 3 when he first started training with Aera.

    ¡°Alright, class! You know what time it is!¡±

    Hunter groaned. He¡¯d watched as instructor Immanuel had set his chair before the rectangular outline at the center of the studio. It meant they¡¯d be sparring. Hunter got up and joined the rest of the class as they started to congregate around

    ¡°Sparring! Gather around. You know the rules, slackers go first,¡± the instructor grinned at Hunter. One of his classmates patted him consolingly on the back. Hunter hadn¡¯t been expecting that, but he appreciated it. He glanced at the young man, he believed his name was Clark. He had short brown hair and blue eyes. He was one of the more visibly fit people in the class, and Hunter didn¡¯t remember having any reason to take issue with him.

    Hunter gave him a nod as he stepped up to spar.

    ¡°Emelia!¡± the instructor called out. A short and thin blonde-haired girl stood up from her spot, while her friends snickered around her. Despite her stature, Hunter felt intimidated. She might have been a slacker, but it wasn¡¯t because she was lazy.

    Truthfully, she didn¡¯t belong in this class. She belonged in the more advanced one. She was incredibly skilled, and had taken down boys in the class who were twice her size and bodyweight. Clark included.

    She looked at him with disinterest as she stepped into the ring. She gave him a bow, and Hunter returned it. They both bowed to the instructor, and he waved his hand, signaling for them to be ready. They both raised their guards, and waited for the instructor to signal for them to start.

    Hunter remembered his last few sessions with Aera. She¡¯d been constantly reminding him to relax, and watch his opponent. He was glad he¡¯d been training his focus lately, as it was proving to be useful in other areas of his life.

    He breathed in, and out, and let the space between him and Emelia be the only thing that held any meaningful existence to him. He relaxed his shoulders, dipped his head slightly, and prepared himself for whatever came.

    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s do 2 out of 3. Go!¡± the instructor called. Emelia launched her self at him, kicking towards his shin. He quickly backstepped, careful not to take his eyes off of her. She moved her hands and her hips in a way that made him think she was going to go for another kick, aimed high. But she wasn¡¯t leaning back nearly enough to support it. She would probably kick low, hoping to catch him off guard.

    His guess was confirmed a moment later, she swept her foot once more at his shin, and Hunter sidestepped, prepared to jab at her chest to score a point.

    Then she fell, pivoting on her knee and kicking her other leg back, catching Hunter off balance. He started to fall, and remembered his thousands of drills with Aera. He lifted himself up as fast as he could as the instructor called out Emelia¡¯s point.

    Hunter sighed, frustrated. He¡¯d almost had her. He¡¯d yet to win a single sparring match, and he doubted that he¡¯d win this one, but scoring a point of Emelia would be huge for him.

    They set themselves back up for the next round.

    He relaxed, and focused. An odd thought occurred to him; up until now, he¡¯d never considered making the first move. What did that mean? It meant that someone like Emilia would know that he wouldn¡¯t make the first move. What if, this time, he did?

    Wouldn¡¯t he need a plan? A lightning-flash of thoughts flew by, he barely understood what his mind was suggesting, but he decided to follow the gist of it.

    ¡°Go!¡±

    Hunter and Emelia both stepped towards each other. Emelia frowned and paused. He kicked towards her stomach, and she blocked it, the force of the block taking Hunter by surprise, but not enough to distract him. He stepped back, expecting a counter, and Emelia launched herself after him. Another kick to the shin, which missed him by an inch, a roundhouse to his side which he stepped into, once more catching Emelia off guard.

    He grabbed around her leg, and with his other hand he grabbed the lapel of her gi. He hooked a leg behind hers and pushed her back, following her down. She seemed stun by the move, and Hunter was too, but his focus exercises had paid off when he realized he had an opening. He jabbed towards her chest, and she didn¡¯t react until it was too late.

    ¡°Point, Hunter! There you go! I¡¯ve been waiting for you to grow a pair!¡± instructor Immanuel said. Hunter was beaming from ear to ear as he got off Emelia and helped her up. She shook her head.

    ¡°I won¡¯t let you do that again, Oberon,¡± she said, but Hunter didn¡¯t hear any hostility in her voice. If anything, she seemed amused, if not a bit frustrated. He supposed he would be too, if he¡¯d been taken off guard by the weakest kid in the class.

    It was the first point Hunter had scored in this class.

    ¡°Go!¡±

    Hunter tried to focus, but Emelia was already after him. He backpaddled, trying to come up with another split-second plan, but she was much faster than him. He realized he couldn¡¯t let her have too much of an advantage, and decided to hold his ground with a couple of feet of ring left to spare. The second he stepped out of bounds, it would be his loss.

    What if he won? All he would have to do score a single hit.

    She threw a hook, and he blocked just like Aera had trained him, following up with an uppercut to her ribs, but she suddenly spun, grabbing the arm Hunter had just used to block and pulling him off balance.

    If he were bigger, and stronger, he probably wouldn¡¯t have anything to worry about. But despite his height, he probably weighed just as much as she did, and she had a lot more experience with fighting guys who were bigger than her. With hunter off balance, she ducked under his arm and pushed him, forcing him to fall out of bounds.

    ¡°The round goes to Emilia. Great initiative, Hunter! Alright, who¡¯s next?¡±

    Hunter lost, but he felt like he¡¯d won a small victory during that fight. Emilia helped him up and gave him a strong pat on the arm.

    ¡°Never seen you fight back before, Oberon. But don¡¯t be too excited about beating a girl half your size,¡± she said. Hunter suddenly felt a lot less proud of himself.

    ¡°Ah, don¡¯t listen to her,¡± Clark said as Hunter sat back down, ¡°progress is progress. True, she¡¯s a shrimp, but she¡¯s a powerful shrimp. Hell, she¡¯s thrown me on my ass more than once. Take the victory.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, Clark,¡± Hunter said, still not sure about where the sudden friendliness was coming from. Maybe he noticed Hunters awkwardness, because he declined to say anything more, merely giving Hunter another nod of encouragement.

    Hunter allowed himself the opportunity to feel some sense of achievement. Sure, it wasn¡¯t a big deal. He hadn¡¯t won the match, and he was still pretty weak compared to the rest of the class, but a win was a win.

    If he could score one point, he could score more. He just had to use his mind.

    Again, Aera¡¯s wisdom was starting to bear fruit. By breaking Hunters concentration, she was forcing him to approach his concentration in a new way. With his fathers exercises, he was realizing that relaxing and concentrating didn¡¯t have to oppose each other, and when the balance was right, there was room for thought. It was natural, a state of flow that Hunter knew intimately but had never taken the time to consciously cultivate until he read the journals.

    Without Aera, and without the exercises, he doubted he¡¯d have have been able to come up with or act on a plan in a split second like he had during that fight. Hunter wondered that if he were to get in a fight with a random street thug, like one of the Comics back in Seckina, maybe he¡¯d actually be able to hold his own, at least long enough to call for help.

    It wasn¡¯t much, but suddenly Hunter felt like he was finally leaving his old life behind him.

 Chapter 37

    History class passed without much excitement, much to Hunters disappointment. He had hoped for the professor to launch himself into another fascinating, impassioned speech. The lecture was still interesting, but Hunter wanted to hear more about these ancient Asutnahem. He decided that he¡¯d take some time to visit the professor one day after class, and see if he could pick the man¡¯s brain.

    He also remembered to mention him to Trey at some point. He¡¯s sure they would both have a fascinating conversation, and if they could somehow verify the professors claims, maybe the professor would find a powerful new patron to support his work.

    Hunter felt like it was a fantasy scenario, but becoming a part of one of the most powerful family¡¯s in the world would have seemed like that a mere few months ago.

    Who was he to say what was in the realm of possibility or not?

    Hunter spent the rest of the day between homework, training focus, and then tutoring Aera. He told her about his small success during the martial arts class, and she seemed utterly unimpressed until he mentioned it was against Emilia.

    ¡°Emilia Beaugard?¡± She asked. Hunter shrugged, he didn¡¯t know her last name.

    ¡°Short, blonde, thin, but surprisingly strong?¡± She asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s her,¡± Hunter said, still still feeling the legacy of two falls she¡¯d inflicted on him that morning.

    Aera raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°She¡¯s good. You said you took her by surprise?¡±

    Hunter nodded.

    ¡°That¡¯s what I would have done if I were you, too. Good job, Hunter. You¡¯re learning how to fight.¡±

    Another genuine, positive sentiment from the queen of cold. The world really was changing. Maybe he should check oustide, he might find a few pigs flying merrily through the sky.

    Aera pulled out her notebook, where she was had written a problem she¡¯d been struggling with from her Artisan class. Hunter took as his queue to start teaching, or tutoring, or whatever this was supposed to be.

    ¡°I know that the Link subglyph is a more efficient choice for a network than a drawstone shard, which is why its invention was so revolutionary. But why is it the most efficient choice? What does a subglyph do that a shard doesn¡¯t?¡±

    That one was easy.

    ¡°The subglyph simply diverts etherium without effecting its charge. A drawstone can not only have a subtle influence on the charge, but they¡¯re mainly meant for drawing in neutral etherium. A lot of the charge that runs through a drawstone shard is lost, dissipating from the drawstone itself. Not only that, but it pulls more etherium through the network than would need to be there otherwise. Imagine using a waterpump to divert the flow of liquid in a pipe, when all you need to do is attach a new pipe in a different direction. And not only that, but the waterpump actually diverts half of the water from where you want it to go, leaving you with half of what you want on one end, and more than what you need on the other. More expensive to run, with less output then needed. The only way to get your desired output is to increase the amount you take in, which means more expensive constructs.¡±

    ¡°Then why use a Link at all? Why not just run more channels through the network?¡± Aera asked, and then she slapped herself on the head.

    Right, it was a silly question on the surface, but this was actually a learning opportunity.

    ¡°I want you to tell me the answer to your question, but I want to try and look at it a bit more deeply,¡± Hunter said, trying to be subtle about how he approached the topic. He was learning that simply delivering information to Aera was the quickest way to bore her. It was a lot better to ask her questions, it seemed to engage her mind more deeply.

    Aera considered the answer, and responded slowly as she wrapped her mind around what she knew.

    ¡°Without the Link, there¡¯s no way to attach more glyphs into a construct apart from drawstone shards . We would be limited to a single glyph per construct,¡± she said. Hunter nodded, gesturing for her to continue.

    ¡°Channels wouldn¡¯t do the job because Link is the only way to merge two glyph outputs, either increasing the effect of similar glyphs or creating a new effect from two disimilar glyphs¡± she said, ¡°but I don¡¯t understand what you mean by looking at it more deeply. Do you mean questioning why the subglyph works at all?¡±

    Hunter nodded.

    Aera shrugged.

    ¡°I have no idea,¡± she said. Hunter laughed.

    ¡°Me neither. In fact, no one does,¡± he said.

    In fact, his father had a few ideas, but she didn¡¯t need to know that. Not yet.

    ¡°All we have are some facts that we can work with, with no apparent answer. Drawstones pull in etherium through our bodies, and into constructs,¡± he said, making sure he wasn¡¯t revealing anything she wouldn¡¯t be learning about in her class, ¡°we also make construct channels out of finely curshed drawstones. What seperates a channel, from a shard? No one knows. All we know is that at some critical point of accumulating density¡ªand the point is different for different charges of etherium¡ª the etherium decides to react to a drawstone differntly than it would were it just lain in a thin line.¡±

    Aera frowned.

    ¡°How can you be content with that? It feels like a pretty huge gap in our collective knowledge.¡±

    Hunter nodded, ¡°True, it can be frustrating, but etherium isn¡¯t like physics. We aren¡¯t sure where one rule ends and the next one begins. In fact, many wonder if there are any rules with etherium at all. Some think that their are definite rules, but that they¡¯re just hidden. Others think etherium might have an intelligence to it, and that it''s rules are more like choices or whims.¡±

    It was Hunters¡¯ own theory, actually. It paralleled a few others, but Hunter was able to verify it in a way that no one else could. Etherium was intelligent, cognizant at some fundamental level. He couldn¡¯t explain any deeper than that yet, but he was sure that one day, he would be able to see those depths just like he could now see the surface.

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    The rest of their session passed with him answering more mundane artisanship questions, and overall Aera seemed content with how the evening progressed. Hunter went up to his apartment, and had one final session with the drawstone. He was still disappointed with the result, having made no progress in discovering his own channels, or having his AR increase by even a single point.

    But he was still committed. His fathers journals told him that it would take time to get a feel for the channels, but that his mind naturally knew where to go, he just needed to give it time to get there, especially if he¡¯d been subconsciously suppressing his growth for so long.

    That night, Hunter dreamt of building a bridge over a river. He saw himself in the river, floating by, struggling to stay above the waters surface. He watched with curiosity as the stream dragged him away. When his other self had disappeared over the horizon, Hunter continued with his work.

    <hr>

    Hunter cursed as the screwdriver rolled off the worktable, clattering on the ground and bouncing under the divided wall into the occupied workspace next to his. He briefly considered whether he should give up his research for the day, but laughed at himself a moment later. Of course he wouldn¡¯t.

    He was being a little baby. What were they going to do, be angry at him? Even if they were, who cares?

    He left his little cubicle space and walked over to the next one. The door was slightly ajar, but he knocked anyways.

    ¡°Hey, dropped my screwdriver. You mind grabbing it for me?¡±

    ¡°Grab it yourself,¡± came the answering voice. He shrugged and opened the door. A girl was sat before the worktable, her back turned to hunter, hunched over the table like he typically would be. In Hunters case it was from the fact that he had always had to stoop a bit otherwise he felt like he was too far away from whatever he was focused on. In her case, she it was just sloppy posture.

    He saw the screwdriver on the floor just beside her table, so he stooped over to grab it.

    ¡°Wait a minute, I know you,¡± the girl said. Her voice was rich¡ª it had a hoarse quality to it. He¡¯d heard it before, and when he glanced at her he realized that he recognized her as well, ¡°Hunter Koar, right? I¡¯m Tilda, Tilda Burner.¡±

    She stood from the bench and held out her hand. She seemed genuinely surprised and pleased to see him. He shook her hand, feeling awkward and not quite knowing what to say. The last time he¡¯d seen her, she¡¯d been with Jeremy Berrymoore and her other teammate, who¡¯s name was slipping Hunters mind at the moment.

    He¡¯d always felt quite bittersweet about the trio who had won the competition. On one hand, he¡¯d imagined it would be him who stole first prize. On the other hand, the fact that David Nettle didn¡¯t win made living in this world a tiny bit more bareable.

    ¡°Yeah, I recognize you. I¡¯m Hunter, ¡± he said, realizing that she would obviously know that, considering that she¡¯d just said his name, ¡°which you know, obviously. Sorry. I mean, i¡¯m not sorry, but¡ª uh¡ª¡±

    The small workspace was suddenly 20 degrees hotter. He needed to leave.

    He was still shaking her hand. It had been at least 4 seconds. 5. 6.

    He let it go like it had shocked him. Tilda stared at him, maybe trying to make sense of whatever had gotten into him.

    Had he ever felt more embarrased in his life? He wondered why he was suddenly acting so strange.

    ¡°I¡¯m just gonna get back to work, sorry for bothering you,¡± he said, turning to leave.

    ¡°Hold on, I¡¯m not gonna bite,¡± she said, laughing softly, ¡°Now that you¡¯re here, do you mind looking at this problem for me? I¡¯m supposed to be pretty good at this stuff but right now i¡¯m feeling completely lost.¡±

    Hunter felt like if he stayed in that room for a second longer his shirt will have soaked completely through with sweat.

    Did he remember to put deoderant on? He usually doesn¡¯t speak with people when he¡¯s here.

    But surely he remembered, right? He figured it would be weird if he checked.

    Despite his discomfort, he nodded. He¡¯d help her with the problem and then leave, and try to avoid ever speaking with her again.

    ¡°Great,¡± she said, ¡°you made quite an impression on us at the competition, you know. The rest of the team, I mean¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s nice to hear,¡± he said, not really sure how to take the compliment, ¡°So what¡¯s the problem?¡±

    He glanced at the project she¡¯d been tinkering with. It looked like she¡¯d been prototyping, he saw an open circuit laid out across the desk, different parts of the network were in various states of repair and disrepair. It took him a second to analyze the syntax, and saw a few problem spots that she¡¯d either missed or was in the process of addressing.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been wracking my brain for an hour trying to find out where the I went wrong with the design, but I just can¡¯t figure it out,¡± she said, frustration clear in her voice. She pointed at one part of the prototype towards the far end of the table.

    ¡°That¡¯s where its supposed to emit heat, and i¡¯m trying to¡ª

    ¡°¡ªshape it with Speed? Interesting,¡± Hunter said, taking another glimpse at the network as he started to understand the logic behind it. It was no small feat, if she could get it to work. He was sure he¡¯d heard of similar products before, but like his two-part shield, it would be a way to prove that she was a serious candidate for Excellence. This was advanced stuff.

    He could see a couple of problems with her design, though. Some of them were just a question of efficiency, but there were a couple of spots where he could see that the etherium was being severely bottlenecked, not just as a matter of inefficiency, but total miscalculation of the charge. Several glyphs prior to the bottleneck she¡¯d run the etherium through Reinforce, which caused a cascade of subtle changes in the etherium as it was channeled from glyph to glyph. By the time she needed it to zig, it would only want to zag, and the rest of the final portion of the network was suffering for it, barely outputting anything, and what it did output fell far short of her desired effect.

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you could see it so quickly,¡± she said, moving her hair out of her eyes and behind her ear, ¡°not that I should expect anything less.¡±

    Hunter cleared his throat, and pointed to the Reinforce glyph he¡¯d noticed earlier.

    ¡°I see why you placed that there, but I think you should place it up here instead,¡± he said, pointing towards the end of the network, ¡°and if you remove the Amplify glyph altogether¡ª

    ¡°¡ªthen my emitter would only out put a quarter of what i¡¯d intended,¡± she said, looking between the construct and Hunter with skepticism.

    ¡°True, but what if we slowed the etherium down, just before the speed field was created?¡±

    She thought about it for a second, and then snapped her fingers and looked at him with excitement.

    ¡°That¡¯s why you want me to move up the reinforce glyph! The etherium would build up, but once it reaches the emitter plate, it won¡¯t matter anymore. It will be less effective than i¡¯d hoped, by about a third, but it¡¯ll work. That¡¯s brilliant,¡± she said, pulling a notepad out of nowhere and jotting down Hunters suggestions.

    Hunter felt like the room was starting to cool down to a normal temperature.

    ¡°You know,¡± he said, swallowing his nerves, ¡°I have a few more ideas, if you¡¯re interested?¡±

    She glanced at him over her notepad, and nodded.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take any advice you can give me,¡± she said. Her cheeks dimpled when she smiled.

    Hunter thought that she was kind of cute. She had a round face, and her brown hair curled but had a bounce to it that seemed to match her personality. Her blue eyes almost seemed to sparkle.

    The next hour and a half seemed to melt away, and he felt a sense of disappointment when it was time for them to leave. She seemed to find his suggestions about her work to be fascinating, and would always have a thousand questions that Hunter found himself having fun answering. Unlike Aera, all of Tilda¡¯s questions were interesting and challening. She¡¯d been working with constructs for years and might be just as passionate about them as he was.

    Once they left the Artisan department, Hunter glanced at his watch and started to plan the rest of his evening before his session with Aera.

    ¡°Man, I always end up working up an appetite when I¡¯m in there,¡± Tilda said. Hunter nodded, not sure why that was any of his business, but not wanting to seem impolite.

    ¡°Sure, I get that. That¡¯s why I usually bring a snack,¡± Hunter said.

    She winced. Had he said something wrong? Then it dawned on him.

    He felt himself start to heat up again.

    ¡°Do, uh, do you..¡±

    She looked at him expectantly.

    ¡°Do you want to get¡ª I mean, so do you want to find an eat¡ª I mean a place? Like, to eat?¡±

    Hunter wanted to die. He¡¯d never been in so much pain¡ª not even after waking up in the hospital after being nearly beaten to death.

    Was it a side effect of his focus exercises? Maybe his concussion hadn¡¯t fully healed, maybe Aera had made it worse during their tutoring sessions, maybe¡ª

    ¡°I thought you¡¯d never ask,¡± Tilda sighed, ¡°come on, I''ve been wanting to try this diner near the soul for like a month.¡±

    Hunter followed, still unsure how he¡¯d gotten himself into this situation, but utterly powerless to resist the flow of fate.

 Chapter 38

    They walked through the soul. A couple of classes must have just ended because it was busy, despite the wide-open green space. It was getting colder, and Hunter reckoned that the snow would come any day now. Yet the cold weather didn¡¯t seem to affect the spirits of the students who appeared so cheerful to be there. Hunter got a few looks, and he wondered whether they were from potential enemies, or merely curious onlookers.

    Despite his earlier awkwardness, Tilda seemed adept at defusing nerves. They talked about their mutual interest in constructs and etherium. It made the walk interesting, and helped to distract him from the crowds.

    Hunter could remember a few details from the attack, as the weeks went by. Tattoo¡¯s that curled down wrists, onto hands. Bracelets, and rings. One of them had worn boots with the word ¡°CODY¡± written across one side with what Hunter could only assume was a felt pen.

    Aera had told him to let him know if he remembered anything. So far, he¡¯d been reluctant to tell her. He couldn¡¯t be sure why, exactly.

    All he knew was that the prospect of telling her made him nervous.

    The same kind of nerves he felt when he was in a crowd, and people were looking at him, recognizing him from somewhere. Maybe it was from a news broadcast when his identity as an Oberon was announced to the world. Maybe it was when their friends pointed out that he was the guy who¡¯d gotten beaten half to death during the first week of classes.

    It was not the same kind of nervous he felt when he was around Tilda, though. Hunter couldn¡¯t remember ever having felt as flustered as she seemed to make him feel. Except for when they were talking about constructs. There were several times when he wondered if he might be talking too much, but she didn¡¯t seem to mind at all.

    Sailor¡¯s Diner was a quaint little place, reminding him of an early-century aesthetic¡ª before they¡¯d breached the edge of the world and discovered that the sky they thought they knew wasn¡¯t real. It was also before Force Glyphs became common¡ª most constructs were still barely considered useful beyond party tricks and lighting the homes of the wealthy. Back then, they¡¯d imagined that they¡¯d be able to reach the stars by strapping a metal hull to a missile, shooting explorers out into space to explore the stars¡ª which they¡¯d assumed would be orbited by planets and moons. As far as Hunter was aware, an attempt was never made, but the imagery had been popular in comic books and literature.

    Hunter was kind of glad that it had been a generation which had been used to experiencing rapid change¡ª his fathers generation, who saw an incredible expansion of human potential through electronics and computer technology. He presumed it made the pill, that their entire cosmology was wrong, easier to swallow. He and Tilda found themselves a small booth to sit at. Tilda seemed excited to be there, taking in the diner as if she were actually stepping into the past. A waitress came to greet them and took their orders. Hunter ordered a coffee and a sandwich with some fries, and Tilda ordered a strawberry milkshake alongside some fish and chips.

    Hunter sipped the coffee when it came, testing it. He grimaced, and started shoveling in sugar. Tilda raised an eyebrow when she saw how much he was adding.

    ¡°To each their own,¡± Tilda said with a smirk. She closed her eyes in bliss as she sipped her milkshake through a straw.

    Hunter regretted not getting one of his own, but the coffee would serve a purpose¡ª keeping him fueled through the session with Aera.

    ¡°So,¡± Tilda said as their food was delivered to them, and Hunter was surprised by how quick the service was, ¡°what else do you do in your spare time, when you¡¯re not dropping screwdrivers?¡±

    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    Hunter coughed up some of the coffee he was sipping, but thankfully none of it left his mouth..

    When he wasn¡¯t getting his ass kicked by his adopted sister, he would be researching potentially world-changing subjects, like synergies; which could increase the efficiency of a large portion of mass-market constructs by a non-insignificant amount, rendering them more accessible to more people, which would probably cause an exponential increase in not only the amount of artisans in the world but the profit margins for businesses everywhere.

    He was delving into revolutionary theories about AR acceleration and the body¡¯s connection to etherium, which could push their species into a quality of life and physical capacity that Hunter wasn¡¯t even sure he could imagine. Apart from that, he was refining his focus to states he¡¯d never thought possible, after having only recently been inducted into one of the four most powerful family¡¯s in the world¡ª and was now targeted by people he¡¯s never met, and might never meet, for reasons he might never know about.

    ¡°Oh, you know. Normal, everyday stuff, I guess,¡± Hunter shrugged.

    She rolled her eyes.

    ¡°And by normal, every day student stuff, you mean ¡®I research constructs all day, every day,¡¯¡± she said, dropping her voice in a mocking tone, but Hunter didn¡¯t hear any hostility.

    Hunter sighed and scratched the back of his neck.

    ¡°Honestly, I haven¡¯t spent as much time researching as I''d like to. My apartment isn¡¯t set up quite like the Artisan department. I¡¯ve been wanting to find some equipment I can bring back home to convert my table into something a bit more useful, but I haven¡¯t been having much luck.¡±

    ¡°You get your own apartment?¡± Tilda asked, her eyes going wide, ¡°Of course, figures. You¡¯re an Oberon now.¡±

    She laughed and leaned back into her seat. She sighed and considered Hunter with a contemplative gaze.

    ¡°You know, I always thought that if the final round had been any different, you probably could have won,¡± she said, looking out the window, here eyes seeing something a thousand miles away.

    Hunter smiled bitterly.

    ¡°That¡¯s what I get for entering on my own,¡± he said.

    ¡°With an AR of 5,¡± Tilda said, somehow managing to whisper and shout at the same time, ¡°getting fifth place on your own is a feat worth marking down in the history books as far as I¡¯m concerned. Doing it with both hands practically tied behind your back? Its no wonder you managed to grab the attention of the Oberon¡¯s.¡±

    Hunter was silent for a moment. Hearing it from someone else¡ª someone who wasn¡¯t himself, or Trey, felt kind of good.

    It felt vindicating.

    He nodded as she spoke.

    ¡°You have no idea how good it feels to hear you say that,¡± he said. She smiled and rested her chin on her hands.

    ¡°You may not have gotten first place, but you got the best prize,¡± she said. Hunter wanted to agree.

    But he was starting to question whether that was true. It was one thing being demonized because of his father. It wasn¡¯t like that stigma had gone away, it had just been outshone by his new middle name. Say what you want about the Comics, their negative attention only came out of Hunters talents with constructs. If they¡¯d known he was a Koar? Who knows how they would have treated him.

    In the end, he figured that none of that was any of her business. Their time together had been nice so far. He felt like it would be a shame add a sour note to it.

    ¡°It has its advantages,¡± he said, doing his best to offer a genuine smile. It seemed to do the trick.

    They both finished their meals, and the time came for them to leave. Life around Barnum kept both of them quite busy, apparently. As they were saying their goodbye¡¯s and turning to head their separate ways, Hunter was overcome with one of those irresistible urges he¡¯d grown to both love and hate.

    ¡°Hey, Tilda,¡± he asked.

    ¡°Hmm?¡± She asked, turning back to face him.

    ¡°It was nice spending time with you,¡± he said, suddenly nervous about asking, but pushed the nerves away and focused on the feeling he¡¯d had just a second ago, ¡°Do you want to maybe do this again sometime? Like, maybe next week?¡±

    She smiled. She really was kind of cute.

    ¡°Same time?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Yeah, that works for me,¡± he said, feeling his cheeks start to heat up.

    She smiled and nodded.

    ¡°Me too,¡± she said.

    As Hunter walked back home, he considered all that had happened to him at Barnum so far.

    Up until today, it had felt either unbearably hostile, or boring and uneventful. But today the worlds seemed colored in a different shade.

    Despite the grey sky, draping the world in a monochrome palette, Hunter felt that everything seemed a bit more colorful. The grass, the concrete, even the benches seemed more vibrant.

    Hunter was feeling pretty good.

    He smiled and nodded at a patrolling guard, who nodded back but kept his eyes on the street ahead of him, alert for trouble.

    Maybe Academy life wouldn¡¯t be so bad Afterall.

 Chapter 39

    ¡°Again,¡± Aera sighed. He¡¯d been way too distracted over the last hour.

    And far too cheerful.

    He¡¯d shown some focus halfway through the session, when she mentioned they were going to practice grappling. He¡¯d mentioned that he¡¯d been having trouble with that during his class, and she knew that they¡¯d have to get around to it eventually. Grappling wasn¡¯t all about brute strength, sometimes it was about using what little strength you could leverage in just the right place.

    But she could tell that his heart wasn¡¯t in the training today. He was elsewhere. So she¡¯d decided that they¡¯d just practice movements for the rest of her portion. A bit of conditioning and strength training never hurt anyone. Until he twisted his wrist the wrong way, during a move that really shouldn¡¯t have been possible to mess up. And yet, his cheer didn¡¯t seem to fade. She could usually read his frustration¡ª even over the last few weeks. She¡¯d noticed his ability to focus and be present during the session had leveled up, but even then, there was always a sense that he was disappointed with his lack of ability to keep up with her, or match her strength.

    Not that he was alone in that regard, she was stronger than the average fully grown man. But to Hunter, she was just another example to showcase a deficiency he¡¯d been dealing with his whole life. It it wasn''t like she wanted to try and assuage whatever complex he¡¯d fostered in that time, as it seemed to be pushing him in the right direction. Eventually she¡¯d recommend him a therapist, or something to help him deal with that. She didn¡¯t consider it her job to manage his emotions.

    Besides, up until today, he seemed to be doing okay. But something must have happened in the last 24 hours that had left a positive impact on him. Her bet was that it was a girl.

    That wasn''t necessarily a problem, if it remained casual. But if it started to get serious, she would need to have a talk with him about significant emotional connections. She¡¯d ask her people to find out what they could. It might be a bit of a breach of privacy, but she could never be too careful these days. He would understand.

    Or he wouldn¡¯t, which would be his problem, and not hers.

    ¡°Alright, we¡¯re done,¡± she said, and Hunter collapsed from the plank position he¡¯d manage to hold for a whole 20 seconds.

    No improvement since the last time, but she wasn¡¯t expecting much to change day to day.

    They both walked back to their apartment building and washed up, meeting in the cafeteria with their notebooks. This time she brought a small construct she¡¯d been assembling in her spare time, hoping to get Hunters take on it.

    He seemed to open up a lot more during his portion of the sessions. Given his mood, he was probably going to address the elephant in the room, and she wanted to get to work before he had a chance to inquire.

    Unfortunately, when Hunter had a burning curiosity, he could be even faster than her.

    ¡°So, about the black eye,¡± he said, staring at the newest feature of her face, a swelling of skin colored various shades of red and purple.

    ¡°Fell pretty bad this morning,¡± she said, pushing the construct in front of him, ¡°tell me what you think of this.¡±

    He stared at the construct, and then back at her eye.

    ¡°Did you fall face first onto a bowling pin?¡±

    ¡°Something like that. Construct. Look. Now,¡± she said, practically gritting her teeth.

    Hunter sighed and examined the construct, which was a series of glyphs etched into a block of wood.

    It was the first one she¡¯d made without referencing a guide, and she was rather proud of it.

    ¡°Did you find it in a kindergarten class? I¡¯m not sure what you want me to say,¡± he said, looking at the block with a confused expression.

    She was tempted to snatch it back from him, and walk away.

    ¡°I mean, it works?¡± he said, his voice still uncertain. She sighed.

    ¡°Room for improvement?¡± she asked him, really wishing that these session weren¡¯t necessary. She could always find another tutor.

    But the unfortunate fact of the matter is that they probably wouldn¡¯t be as good as Hunter was.

    Hunters eyebrows rose, considering the block in a new light.

    ¡°You made this?¡± he mumbled, making that look that he always did when he had something he wanted to say but didn¡¯t want her to know. His lips would purse, and his eyebrows would furrow slightly. It was almost contemplative, until he tilted his chin down. That was the clear giveaway, like he was forcing himself not to speak.

    ¡°Well you¡¯ve got the fundamentals down, but today I want to walk you through a better way of routing the channels. And I personally would have made a few different choices in terms of glyph placement, which we can talk about as well. For a beginner project, I''d give it a pass,¡± he said, handing it back to her and pulling out some pads of paper.

    ¡°Out of 10,¡± she said. She wanted to hear what he really thought. He should know her better by now.

    She wasn¡¯t going to be content with such a vague answer like that, especially when he was lying through his teeth.

    Apparently, he understood her tone.

    ¡°Maybe a 5?¡± he said carefully, gauging her reaction. She wanted to slap him, but settled with a glower.

    ¡°Okay, I''d give it a 4. It¡¯s not great, but its good progress. You wouldn¡¯t have been able to do this a couple of weeks ago, right?¡±

    She nodded, taking the block back.

    Any pride she felt in it had been replaced by derision towards the offending object. She¡¯d have to do better.

    She would do better.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get started then,¡± she said. Hunter nodded, understanding that she wasn¡¯t in the mood to waste time.

    After the session, when she got home and studied the small network schematic that Hunter had sketched out while he guided her through everything she could do to improve, she had to admit, his work was just better. Cleaner, more efficient, and it looked like something an expert had designed.

    She read over the notes twice, memorizing as much as she could, and then moved onto the next item of her evening.

    She called her new business partner.

    <hr>

    Pipsqueak groaned, the meds insufficient to quell his pain. Jason pursed his lips and considered the state of his most trusted subordinate. Or, more accurately, used to be his most trusted subordinate. The intervening days since his incapacitation had given Jason some time to investigate Pippen''s habits when he was sent off his leash.

    Jason was not impressed. In fact he was very disappointed.

    Pippen had been a bad dog.

    But Jason had appearances to keep up. To the world, he was Pippen''s best friend, and Pippen his. The Visgolds were quick to jump at the chance to build a bridge to the Chan¡¯s, who had proven quite resourceful in a few significant and influential stages across the world, Barnum only being one of them.

    And the Chan¡¯s were only too happy to allow the Visgolds the chance to extend their prestigious olive branch to the Chan¡¯s, who had used it as a more of springboard than a branch. The Locke¡¯s were gated by the Visgolds, a gate that was closed to many but the select few who the Locke family took an interest in.

    Funny thing about gates and locks, as far as the Chan family was concerned, they were considered more suggestions than physical¡ª or metaphorical¡ª obstacles. A family like the Locke¡¯s were always interested in expanding their powerbase, and keeping valued subordinate families like the Visgolds in check. To that end they have built a fruitful partnership with the Chans, who have done their utmost to go above and beyond for the Council family.

    As far as Jason was concerned, the usefulness of the entire Visgold family had run its course, but his mother had other plans. The time would soon come for the Locke family to demote the Visgolds, who¡¯s role has become nothing more than a glorified guard dog, who soaked up all the power the Locke¡¯s fed them, but didn¡¯t do much in return.

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    The Visgolds had grown complacent¡ª a complacency which did not compliment their ambition. The Chans had ambition in spades, and were quite willing to do the dirty work which that ambition demanded.

    Even if it meant keeping up appearances for just a little while longer. Soon, his hands would be clean of the pipsqueak and his kin, and none too soon. He imagined that his relationship with Pippen was much like the Locke¡¯s relationship with Pippen''s family, always cleaning up after the Visgolds enthusiastic service for their masters.

    Jason scowled. He¡¯d spent enough time in this hospital room, enough to satisfy social standards. It was time for him to do literally anything else.

    His phone rang as he left the room, and he answered it with relish.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got Jason. Please tell you¡¯re about to invite me to a party.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Aera.¡±

    Jason sighed. There would be no party, but at least there may be some entertainment.

    ¡°My dear, its so good to hear your voice. My friend Pippen is still in a very sorry state and my grief can hardly be contained. Please, I beg you, deliver me some balm for my sorrow,¡± Jason said, straining his voice with dramatic flare.

    It might have been a bit too sarcastic, but he was a slight bit beyond the point of caring. If Aera had any evidence linking him to Pippen''s attack on her brother, she would have already acted on it.

    Which was fine with him. Although he was playing it safe, his mothers plan was already in effect. Soon after Aera had demonstrated her resolve in the ring, Jason had been suddenly inspired with the brilliant idea of bringing her back for a high stakes match against not one, but two opponents. It had been the main event of the evening, with a few warm up fights from some up and coming contestants.

    Then, the next week, she not only fought against two people, they were two heavyweight champions. She hadn¡¯t escaped without bruises. It had been thrilling to watch.

    And profitable, for both of them.

    She was nothing if not confident, and he would milk that for everything he could in the coming weeks, before it was time for the grand finale.

    ¡°Let¡¯s do three,¡± she said¡ª her voice lifeless and deadpan as ever. He wondered if Trey hadn¡¯t had her surgically altered at birth, increasing her AR and intelligence at the cost of a personality. Or maybe they¡¯d made a pact with some ancient demon, who had taken her soul in exchange for power.

    He snickered at the thought.

    How many of the rich and famous would partake in such a thing if it existed? He wondered how far his mothers ambitions would stretch if she could call in supernatural help at the cost of one of her children?

    ¡°Not four?¡± he asked, with the faintest hope that she¡¯d actually agree. Who knew with her?

    She actually took a second to consider.

    ¡°Let¡¯s draw out the suspense. I can even make it look like three is a challenge.¡±

    Ah, were she not who she was, and were he not who he was, he might have fallen deeply in love with this girl. As it were, the thought of her made him sick to his stomach and he would like nothing more than to see her smeared across the pavement like an insect.

    Alas, patience was a virtue, as they say. Jason wasn¡¯t sure he had patience, but he had something close enough.

    Total self interest. There were credits to be made.

    ¡°Three it is. Will I have the pleasure of seeing you before the club meeting next week?¡± he asked, already sure and deeply thankful for the answer.

    ¡°If only I had the time, but you know how it is,¡± she said. Jason nodded.

    He did know how it is. There were schemes to scheme. Politics to politick. Excellence to strive for. Not that it would matter, in her case.

    ¡°Do let me know if your schedule clears up,¡± he said, and he wondered if she could feel his smile from the other end of the line. His charm seemed to have quite the lasting and satisfying effect on her.

    Satisfying to himself, anyway.

    ¡°Of course,¡± she said, hanging up the phone not a second after the last syllable left her lips.

    Jason took a slow, deep breath. The season had transitioned smoothly, and the cold air was sharp in nostrils and his throat.

    ¡°Refreshing,¡± he whispered, as he left in the direction of his home. He had some more calls to make. Aera was not his only prey whose movements he was carefully tracking as they waddled through his web. His ambitions extended far beyond the short role she served in his grand play.

    Most spiders would be content to sit, and wait for their prey to come to them. But Jason tended to enjoy the chase. The safer the bugs felt, the more at home, the easier it was for him to gobble them up.

    <hr>

    Hunter sat cross-legged on his couch, slowly breathing in and out.

    He had yet to attain any significant degree of focus for more than a few seconds. At first he thought that maybe his time with Tilda had left a deeper impression then he¡¯d initially thought. Even Aera could tell that he was distracted.

    His mind would wander back to their conversations every chance that it could. Nothing he did could seem to stop it. Hunter was starting to wonder if he had a crush.

    He¡¯d never had a crush before.

    He sighed and opened his eyes, leaning back into his couch and staring at the ceiling.

    No, something else was bothering him.

    It wasn¡¯t just whatever he was feeling about Tilda, he felt that there was a deeper sense of frustration, something that he couldn¡¯t quite understand. Whatever it was, it was making any attempt to focus into a pointless exercise.

    It was like a tension in his gut, and his jaws, and his head.

    He felt so tense. Moreso than usual.

    He got up and grabbed himself a glass of water. He spent the last hour before bed reviewing his homework. Math, some science, and some brainstorming for a history essay which would be due in a few days. The math was easy, and the science stuff was interesting. Chemistry felt a little bit like artisanship, but without the mystery. He wondered if chemistry was the fate that awaited etherium¡ª once all its mysteries and depths had been thoroughly plotted and a rigorous working theory regarding its nature had been refined over enough generations.

    He imagined someone teaching a century from now, looking at a network of glyphs that made up something like the healing bed that Hunter had been so fortunate to enjoy with a look of disinterest. Ah, yes, they¡¯d say, my 5 year old assembled one of those just the other day in his kindergarten class.

    Maybe the price of progress was all of one¡¯s efforts being rendered inconsequential before the march of efficiency and convenience. It was the destiny of future children to look back and marvel at how difficult it was for people in Hunters generation to travel from place to place.

    In automobiles? And aircraft? You couldn¡¯t just teleport to wherever you wanted to go? You couldn¡¯t directly command the ether to fly you to wherever you wanted to go?

    He felt a pang of jealousy for the brats of history¡¯s future.

    He finished his homework, and got ready for bed. However, Hunter didn¡¯t feel his sense of frustration dissipate. If anything, laying down to relax only made him feel worse. He felt his limbs shake, as adrenaline started to pump through his body.

    Suddenly his chest tightened, and he felt with every fiber of his being that his life was in danger.

    He gripped his chest, panting, as his eyes scanned the room. Every shadow was checked once, twice, sometimes three times. He listened intently, for any sign of an intruder. He could neither hear, nor see any sign that anyone was in his room, yet the feeling remained. He got out of bed, but the feeling only intensified. He couldn¡¯t control himself, as he collapsed on the floor beside his bed, feeling the most vulnerable he had ever felt, utterly helpless and exposed to certain death.

    He gripped his legs to his chest. No matter how hard and fast he breathed, it was never enough. Tears streamed down his cheeks. What was happening to him?

    It took time for him to calm down, but the tension remained. His nerves felt like they were plugged in to an electric outlet.

    He realized he wouldn¡¯t be sleeping that night, but it was fine. His mind rebelled at the thought that it was fine, but he reminded himself that his classes were over for the week. He could afford a day without sleep.

    It would hardly be his first sleepless night.

    And besides, what else was coffee for if not nights like this?

    He had a bunch of his fathers journals he could read to pass the time. He also had a bunch of network schematics he was working on in lieu of not having a spot in his apartment where he could actually build them. His fathers notes about his own work outside of the Internal Arts were always fascinating to read. Great insights would be delivered so plainly, which only made sense, given that most of the notes had been recorded for his own personal reference.

    It was only the first few Journals that Hunter had read which appeared to be written for another party¡ª namely Hunter, or anyone Hunter decided to share them with. He hadn¡¯t read much beyond those. There was a lot to go through, but try as he might to keep reading, his heart wasn¡¯t in it.

    He felt like there was something important he should be doing, something he needed to figure out.

    He felt like his apartment was suffocating him, and yet being anywhere else felt worse. Where else would he go?

    For a walk?

    There were guards out, patrolling the streets and alleyways. If anything happened, he could just call for help.

    But what if they didn¡¯t make it in time?

    Was he really afraid of getting attacked again? The idea rang true.

    Why now? Despite the anger and pain from the attack, Hunter had felt fine. He¡¯d felt fine after the attack at the museum as well, the most significant emotional change he could point to was a a stronger drive to focus on his work and his future.

    Hunter groaned. He¡¯d had to deal with one obstacle after another, life always seemed to have some brand new way of toying with him.

    He¡¯d gone his whole life without significant anxiety. Seckina had been stressful, but this was different. He¡¯d never felt so helpless, before. The fear had never been so intense and paralyzing.

    What was he supposed to do?

    He had no interest in doing anything, and was too high-strung to fall asleep.

    So he closed his eyes, and started breathing.

    Focus came surprisingly fast. Maybe the panic attack had burned through some energy. Like storm clearing the air of pollutants.

    And then he went deeper. And deeper. And then he felt it again.

    His life was in danger. Hunter gasped for air and the focus dissipated, he clutched his chest and heaved. The panic didn¡¯t last as long as last time, but it had felt so much more real, if that was even possible.

    What the hell was this emotion doing inside of him? Had it been there all along?

    Did the process of focusing and relaxing expose it?

    He opened his fathers first journal, and flipped through it a few times to find the portion where he talks about the methods of developing the Internal Arts. He skimmed to the part where his father introduces the focusing exercises.

    There it was, he¡¯d dismissed it before, having been totally unaware of any deeper meaning the words might have held, but now it was plain to see.

    A note of caution, these practices can and will expose things about yourself that you may not have been aware of; certain opinions, perceptions, and emotions that you are not yet conscious of or have pushed below the surface. I wish there were an easy way to defuse these things, but their appearance can be quite jarring, and in my experience the best way to deal with them is deeper exposure. Try not to resist, just relax and feel your way through them.

    Hunter felt exasperated. There was no way he¡¯d be able to sit through that kind of experience again. Nothing he¡¯d ever felt had come close to it. It was so raw, so loud.

    Can I afford to avoid it? He asked himself.

    The answer was clear.

    No. He had to face it. But who in their right mind would want to face that, willingly?

    A strong, stubborn urge rose up in his chest. Stronger than he¡¯d ever felt it before.

    Fuck it. He was going to conquer this thing.

 Chapter 40

    It had taken him an hour before he felt calm enough to attempt another deep dive into his mind. It took him another hour to finally let go of trying to replicate his previous experience. The moment he decided that he didn¡¯t have to conquer whatever deep emotions were afflicting him today, he started to slip into deeper states of focus as if they were waiting for him. The next thing he knew he was riding the edge of his breath, and his mind grew evermore still.

    Then he was somewhere else.

    Hunter opened his eyes, and found himself in a dark cave, a eerie blue glow surrounded him, exposing a ground with vines that seemed to cross the ground like veins.

    Despite the darkness of the environment, he felt safe here. It was filthy, and he could hear strange insects chittering in the dark the caves unlit corners, watching him. But within the confines of this place, he knew that he was in no danger.

    The cave shook, and Hunter seemed to understand what it meant. He despaired, knowing that his sanctuary was about to be exposed to an unstoppable enemy.

    The top of the cave was torn, and a beautiful but terrifying night sky lit by a billion stars, exposed the silhouettes of a multitude of hulking figures. Their eyes were like planets, their fingers spanning the interstellar depths. Some were like wolves, some were like men, others like spiders. These great cosmic beasts considered him with a primal malevolence.

    Hunter knew that this was the end of him. Before them, there was no where to run or hide. He was trapped, and these beasts were hungry.

    They shook him out of his cage and Hunter fell. There was no ground to catch him, so he fell further and further, faster and faster. The beasts chased him, howling in the delight of the hunt. Hunter knew that in a moment, they would catch him, and he would know no more.

    A sweet humming voice met his ears, and his fall began to slow. Light and warmth surrounded him for a second, but the beasts howled and the humming faded. He could still hear it, but its protection was gone.

    But Hunter no longer fell.

    His body was still, and he couldn¡¯t move. He watched the beasts stalk closer, and they started to melt together into one form, constantly shifting, never deciding on a final shape, but settling on the vague outline of a wolf, uncertain forms streaming behind it like smoke. The smoke drifted in the shape of a thousand faces, contorting in agony. Vistas of flame and blood were born where the wolf stepped.

    The despair grew deeper and deeper. His mind screamed, and yet his body could not escape. As the beast drew near, and Hunter saw an inexplicable hatred in its eyes, Hunters heart felt like it would tear from his own chest in a bid to relieve itself of the strain of fear that gripped him.

    ¡°You think a cave will hide you from me?¡± the dark god growled, its voice ripping through Hunter like barbed wire. Hunter wailed and sobbed, powerless to stop the pain. He lamented his foolish desire to free of himself¡ª his determination had brought him here to this nightmare that didn¡¯t end. It was a nightmare that felt more real than anything he¡¯d ever experienced.

    ¡°Look at you, child,¡± it said, circling his unmoving body, taking great pleasure in the waves of torment that assault him, ¡°powerless.¡±

    The wolf¡¯s head was suddenly directly in front of him, staring him in the eyes.

    ¡°Say it,¡± it whispered.

    ¡°I¡¯m powerless,¡± Hunter said, tears streaming from his face. Before this great beast, he was too weak to fight back. He only wished for the pain to end, and he would do anything to hasten it.

    ¡°You¡¯ve always been weak,¡± the wolf said, ¡°and that makes you pathetic.¡±

    Hunter tried to nod but his muscles didn¡¯t seem to receive the signal.

    ¡°That¡¯s why your friends left you,¡± the wolf whispered, ¡°that¡¯s why everyone started to hate you. They knew you¡¯d never be as strong as them.¡±

    Hunter had no more energy left for tears. The wolf was right. He remembered the looks on the faces of his friends as the display showed his results. He remembered how much it hurt, year after year, seeing everyone growing stronger, living their lives unburdened by the frailty which afflicted him.

    ¡°You deserve to be alone. Even your own father kept his distance, so embarrassed by his son that he was driven mad. He killed people to cure you of your disease, so that he wouldn¡¯t have to be the father of a cripple,¡± the wolf laughed.

    The beast was right.

    Hunter had completely forgotten this feeling. He¡¯d forgotten how much it hurt to be him. How had he forgotten?

    He remembered that after his dad had died, all he could focus on was survival. After a while, he found that it was easier not to think about it. Day after day, he strove to improve himself. To work harder, to know more, to be better. The more he worked, the further away the pain seemed.

    Why was he fighting so hard?

    Wasn¡¯t he just hiding from what he¡¯d always known to be true?

    Hunter could never be the person he wanted to be. His own body had stolen that possibility from him.

    But that was bullshit.

    Hunter laughed. All of a sudden, all of his despair seemed ridiculous. He couldn¡¯t even tell what had shifted, but now he was seeing the fear, the guilt, the shame, all of the pain he¡¯d fostered and hidden from for so long as if it were all at a distance. He still felt every shred of it, but it seemed like an unnecessary affliction.

    It was silly.

    Why should he give the thinnest quivering sliver of a fuck about what others think of him? So he¡¯s physically weak, so what? In the last few months, he¡¯s been pushed harder than he¡¯d ever thought he could be pushed. He faced challenges that most of the people who have ever judged, or mocked him, wouldn¡¯t be able to face, and every time Hunter emerged better.

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    He was better now than he¡¯d ever been before. He was stronger, smarter, more ambitious, and he was pretty sure he was going to ask Tilda Burner to be his girlfriend.

    Hunter was more proud of himself than he¡¯d ever been before. He¡¯d never felt more confident and capable.

    He understood what had been bothering him, the last couple of days. He understood the panic that had gripped him that night.

    This monster had no power over him. As soon as he realized that, he understood what this whole thing was. He knew what had been bothering him over the last couple of days. He understood the panic that had gripped him that night.

    ¡°I get it,¡± he said, as his body was suddenly free to move. He stretched, savoring the sensation of having agency over himself.

    The beast spoke accusingly, tauntingly. It chased, and threatened, and promised death. But wasn¡¯t that exactly what fear did? If all of his negative emotions could take up a form, and present itself to him, how it would it look? What would it say?

    Would fear give him a hug and tell him that everything was alright? He laughed.

    It was him. The beast, the giant scary wolf monster from the depths of the nightmare realms was a manifestation of his own unprocessed feelings.

    The beast roared, feeling threatened by Hunters freedom. It lunged at him, trying to tear at him with its claws, but they melted as they got near him, dissipating into thin air.

    The beast saw its claw disappear, and Hunter recognized helplessness in its reaction. It¡¯s eyes widened and it stared at Hunter, whimpering.

    He felt tempted to mock the beast, but he couldn¡¯t bring himself to do it. As he studied the animal, and looked into its giant eyes, he saw his memories reflected back at him. Every one of them a reminder of why he was alone, why he felt so bad to be who he was. He saw every reason he¡¯d had to be afraid of the world, afraid of being seen, afraid of being known.

    He could see memories of being beaten by Pippen, and being taken hostage by terrorists. He saw memories of every rejection, every dismissal. As the memories flashed by, the beast whimpered once more and curled up on itself, but they shared the same mind. It could hide its face, but it was him.

    He could no longer hide from himself.

    He remembered being interrogated as a child, his father being accused and his refusal to listen. He remembered his fathers funeral, he saw his father growing more distant. He saw himself being shunned for the first time, and remembered the feelings of betrayal and confusion. He saw it all, and knew that this was the heart of the beast. As the memories moved, the beast cowered and shivered like a frightened child.

    Hunter saw his mother dying. He felt everything he¡¯d felt as a very young boy, feelings he hadn¡¯t ever felt before. A sense of utter confusion¡ª that something so comforting and good could suddenly disappear and never come back. It had changed something in him, effecting him so deeply that he¡¯d barely realized it.

    This had all been living inside of him, as him, since he was barely old enough to walk on his own. The more he saw the beast, the more he understood the frightening figure in front of him, the more the figure in front of him shifted. Soon, the monster was replaced by a reflection of himself from years ago.

    He was tall for his age. So thin that you¡¯d think he might be malnourished. His posture was awkward, and he seemed so lost. His eyes were constantly searching for something, and he didn¡¯t even seem to realize it.

    He heard the humming again, and the lost gaze seemed to light up. The young boy¡¯s eyes shot towards the direction of the soft, comforting voice.

    The humming grew to encompass them both. It started to swell all around him and within him. It surged up in a feeling of elation, like Hunter had just discovered the most incredibly treasure in the universe.

    His mother appeared. He recognized her. She smiled at the young version of himself, picking him up. Hunter could feel the child¡¯s joy, having finally found what it had lost.

    It was Hunters own joy. He collapsed to his knees, tears streaming from his face. The nightmare around him rapidly dissipated, and he came back to reality, sitting in his sofa at Barnum.

    Just like that, it was over. The vision of his mother was gone, but it didn¡¯t matter.

    He felt happy, he felt sad. He felt a thousand things at once, more than he¡¯d ever felt before.

    He finally remembered his mothers voice, her face more than a vague recollection. The face he¡¯d seen in that vision had been hers. It was so clear.

    These focus exercises were no joke. His father had utterly understated the potential side effects.

    It took him a few minutes before he felt like he was ready to move on from what had just happened to him. He felt like he¡¯d just uncovered and confronted something important.

    He remembered what his father had written about his theory regarding the origin of Hunters deficiency. On a whim he grabbed the small device on the side of the table and activated it.

    It beeped, and he read the small display.

    6.

    ¡°Yes!¡± Hunter said, jumping from the couch. He looked at the display again to make sure he hadn¡¯t misread.

    It still said 6.

    He hadn¡¯t even managed to catch a glimpse of of etherium channels, and his AR was already rising. But then he questioned if that was true. What if had glimpsed his channels, but hadn¡¯t realized it at the time?

    When the cave he¡¯d been in had been exposed, he felt like he was staring into the depths of something that inspired both fear and beauty.

    The fear came from the pain, from the monster inside of him. But what about the beauty?

    Hunter was far too excited to sleep, so he made himself some coffee and decided to continue exploring. After drinking the coffee and reviewing his fathers notes again, he built up another state of deep focus.

    It was like a hot knife cutting through butter. The focus came quickly, and it was stronger than ever.

    When he was ready, he picked up the small drawstone on the table and brought his attention to it. He noticed the sensation of the stone in his palm. He felt the etherium inside of it, and how it started to slowly dissipate. He paid more attention to his hand, to the skin. His attention flickered for a second, distracted by a sound outside of the building.

    But as his attention moved away from his hand, he noticed that a subtle sensation disappeared, one which he hadn¡¯t even been aware of feeling.

    He brought his attention back to his hand, and the sensation returned. He had trouble putting it into words, but it was almost like he could feel something flowing from deep within himself, and this flow was focused on his hand, at the point where the drawstone met his skin.

    It was like the flow was simultaneously within, yet beyond his hand. Utterly free from the shell of the skin, yet free to act within it¡ª but it wasn¡¯t outside of him. It was within his consciousness

    The more Hunter studied the feeling, the more he realized what the flowing feeling was.

    He compared it to the etherium in the drawstone, and realized that what he was feeling was what etherium felt like before it was charged by a drawstone. He hadn¡¯t even realized that drawstones could alter, or impart a charge. Sure enough, the more he studied the contrasting feeling, the more he could see how the ¡®neutral¡¯ etherium in the drawstone could be recontextualized as having more of a desire than the etherium he was feeling within himself.

    The feeling was so vague, and it was difficult to keep his attention in it. Even though he knew it was there, he would suddenly forget about it and his mind attention would drift to his thoughts, or other sensations in his body. It was like forgetting the fact that you were breathing because it tends to happen automatically.

    Eventually, he managed to stabilize his attention on this subtle feeling. He dropped the drawstone, and the feeling of flow continued for a split second before stopping.

    This had to be it. He was feeling the etherium being pulled into his body after the drawstone was no longer activated, stopping when his channels were full.

    He could finally start practicing the Internal Arts. He wanted to dive right back into it, but after an honest inquiry into how he was feeling, he knew that he needed a break. He imagined a day when he could practice all day, every day, but he still needed to work his way up to that. Hunter now felt the real possibility¡ª the certainty, that he was cured.

    He would never be weak again. Hunter would forge himself into something that before, he could only dream of. But first, he needed to get some sleep. Looking at the cups of coffee he¡¯d devoured over the last few hours, he knew that that wouldn¡¯t be coming until at least mid-day tomorrow, and he couldn¡¯t miss tomorrows session with Aera.

 Chapter 41

    Trey considered the latest report from his daughter, and compared it to the report from his people inside the schools¡¯ faculty.

    Pippen Visgold had been taken care of, but she hadn¡¯t been sure about whether there was a hand pulling Pippen''s strings¡ª could it have been this Jason Chan she wrote about, or perhaps the Locke¡¯s? Or maybe the Visgolds were making a play?

    Barnum would be the place to do it, but everyone knew that there were certain procedures in place. Escalation had to be measured, or else everyone might be drawn into an all out brawl over teenage drama.

    Unless they were using that drama to strike debilitating blows against himself, or the people he cared about.

    Trey knew all about what happened at Barnum. He knew how the faculty often turned a blind eye towards the after-hours business of the high-society youths they¡¯ve been charged to guide. Of course, it wasn¡¯t up to the Barnum faculty to raise those children.

    That was up to the parents. And Trey knew how such children were raised¡ª often the same way he was. They were trained from birth to be ruthless and decisive, the greatest friend to whoever was useful, the worst enemy to those who proved to be obstacles.

    Not many had the heart or stomach for it. Trey had, and he¡¯d relished in his talent for making money at the expense of those who mattered little to him.

    So he knew how to think like them¡ª the children and their parents, both. At least when it came to the chosen who were selected to attend Barnum, and the ambitious weavers of the social fabric who sent them.

    He¡¯d taken the time to investigate the Chans. He¡¯d been aware of them before, but hadn¡¯t realized that they¡¯d been so ambitious as to reach for the Visgold¡¯s seat beside the Locke¡¯s. It was somewhat devious at first, and was only recently beginning to escalate to the point where the Visgolds were waking up to the fact that they had competition, for the first time in a very long time.

    Trey sat before two men, both of them among his most trusted analysts and advisors. They¡¯d taken the time to read the reports that Trey just finished viewing. Dean was an athletic man dressed in a blue blazer and matching dress pants. McKay was the other, sporting a greying buzz-cut and about about 15 years Dean¡¯s senior.

    ¡°Thoughts, gentlemen?¡± He asked, lighting a cigar and leaning back in his seat, preparing for a rather long strategy session.

    ¡°It¡¯s clear to me that the Locke¡¯s are going to move through the Chan¡¯s. They¡¯ve been protesting our outworld expansion rate for years¡ª citing anti-monopoly clauses¡¯ in the Council¡¯s founding constitution,¡± Dean said.

    ¡°I¡¯m well aware,¡± Trey sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was a long-standing debate, and of course it was a load of bull. The council Corporations were monopolies. They owned all the business that happened in their domain, or almost all of the business. They had final say over every transaction, not that they cared to abuse that power.

    In fact, Trey had started to secretly contemplate the wisdom of total power. What was its use? Security? It was a good argument. It benefited himself, his family, and as long as they could remain honorable the people in his domain wouldn¡¯t have to worry about an unfair abuse of power. But he couldn¡¯t predict that honor would run true for his bloodline forever.

    He wondered if his ancestors had struggled with these same thoughts when they were in power.

    ¡°The Chan¡¯s are ruthless. I think we may need to move pre-emptively,¡± McKay offered, ¡°They¡¯re beginning to make off-world inquiries, outright acquiring some smaller trading businesses, and we all know what that means.¡±

    ¡°Care to enlighten us?¡± Trey asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s the Chan¡¯s,¡± McKay said, spreading his hands as if the answer was obvious, ¡°Smuggling is one of their most profitable businesses. The last thing we need is for the drug trade to make it outworld. I say we increase our security presence on all of our outposts, and regularly patrol the most likely routes that Chan¡¯s could use to undermine our domain, both within Sanctuary and without.¡±

    To Trey¡¯s surprise, Dean was nodding as McKay spoke. He gave Dean a glance, and Dean shrugged in response.

    ¡°It¡¯s true that I''m usually the first to counter McKay¡¯s more aggressive ideas, but this time he might be onto something. I¡¯ve heard rumors¡ª some substantiated, some not¡ª and all I''ve got is a bunch of hearsay, but the trend is a bit troubling.¡±

    Trey had heard similar rumors, if he was reading Dean¡¯s tone correctly.

    ¡°Before you mention them, I¡¯m aware of the meetings between the various Council Seats, and the join military exercises. What you might not know is that coincidentally, during one of those exercises, one of our black sites in the Locke¡¯s domain went radio silent.¡±

    McKay frowned.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware of this,¡± he said. And he was right to be troubled, being in charge of a considerable portion of the Oberon Security Force.

    ¡°I was keeping it close to my chest, as I had some things I needed to verify. Shortly before this meeting, both of you were cleared to hear the news. Boy¡¯s, I¡¯ve got something big I¡¯d like to share with you.¡±

    Trey stood and walked down to the front of his office to grab some coffee. He offered them some, and Dean declined. McKay asked for some, black. He remembered to bring his cigar, this time. He was careful not to get any ash in the coffee¡¯s.

    He served out McKay¡¯s and started to sip his own between buffs of his cigar. It wasn¡¯t a great combination, but he would need all the stimulus he could to stay optimistic. He was about to make a big play.

    ¡°In light of the trend of escalating aggression in recent years, especially towards our domain and holdings both in and out of Sanctuary, I''ve been silently creating some contingency procedures should the worst case scenario come about.¡±

    ¡°Worst case scenario?¡± Dean asked, and McKay mirrored his concerned look.

    ¡°The Council appears to be gearing up to introduce a new member into its ranks, but in order to do so¡ª¡±

    ¡°Another one has to go,¡± McKay said, his eyes widening, understanding what Trey was implying.

    ¡°No one can doubt the strides that our company had made in the last couple of decades, and the Council has always been troubled by our lack of cooperation in certain matters that violate our sense of ethics. To that end, we have countered their protests with our own¡ª tariffs, taxes on businesses based in foreign domains, and driving ourselves to become as self sufficient as possible, which has recently reached a critical threshold, one that allows me to officially prepare the final phase of our contingency,¡± Trey said, standing before the men, leaning slightly to open a drawer on the side of his table. He picked out a rather large folder, practically bursting at the seems with documents. He dropped the folder on the table, which landed with a satisfying thud. It was the product of hours of research and organization, painstakingly tracing potential causes and effects, moving certain people and resources into positions where they would prove the most effective.

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    He hated to admit it, but the likelihood of having to enact this plan he¡¯d been hatching for years was increasing day by day. It was time to bring more people in, people with enough authority to start preparing.

    There was still a non-insignificant chance that it could be averted, but he knew the Council. The prospect of unseating the Oberon''s and installing a puppet faction which they all had a stake in controlling would be way too good of an opportunity for them to ignore.

    ¡°I present to you Operation: Exodus. A play for the relocation of as many Oberon resources as possible in the event of a joint-operation against us. That includes industrial capacity, security forces, employees from both within and without sanctuary, as well as their family¡¯s.¡±

    ¡°But where could we possibly go? If such an attack happened, we would need to move incredibly fast, faster than we can move. The scale of this would be utterly ridiculous, I''m not sure its even possible,¡± Dean said. McKay elected to remain silent.

    They knew that Trey tended to take risks, but he was not a foolish man. McKay considered Trey with a contemplative gaze, waiting for him to elaborate.

    ¡°20 years ago, a scout vessel of ours disappeared, far from Sanctuary. It was one of the longest scout missions in our short history of exploring the interareal space. After having been presumed lost for 2 years, they returned. They encountered a strange astral phenomenon, something that seemed to launch them very far away. In the intervening we¡¯ve called this phenomena the Corridor, as it appears to lead to a location far, far away. Farther than the rest of the Council will be able to reach for generations.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s to stop them from finding this shortcut?¡±

    ¡°Nothing,¡± Trey smiled, ¡°but the ship that made the journey was the Cloud, and it has an advantage in traversing this Corridor that other ships won¡¯t be able to match for a long, long time.¡±

    ¡°The shield,¡± McKay said, understanding dawning with a sly smile.

    ¡°The Cloud? You mean the flagship? What about it''s shield? I know that shield constructs have been advancing at a considerable pace, but what sets the Cloud¡¯s apart from others?¡± Dean asked.

    ¡°The Merciful Cloud started as a scout ship, which was tasked to explore deeper into inter-realm space than anyone had gone before. During their travels, they encountered ruins from an ancient civilization, one that appeared remarkably similar to one we all know.¡±

    ¡°The Asutnahem,¡± McKay said, and Dean appeared like a fish out of water, his jaw opening and closing, as he wanted to protest the information he was hearing, yet couldn¡¯t dismiss the authority and reasoning faculties of the men he was talking with.

    ¡°Our Asutnahem?¡±

    ¡°The very same,¡± Trey said, smiling. His reaction had been similar, ¡°There wasn¡¯t much to find there, but what we did find has proven utterly invaluable. We decided to rebrand the Merciful Cloud, adding several tonnes to its mass¡ª graduating from a scout vessel to something more like a streamlined destroyer. It can go blow for blow with anything any other Council Seats can field, and what¡¯s more is that they won¡¯t be able to scratch the Merciful Cloud in return.¡±

    ¡°The shield you mentioned,¡± Dean said, putting the pieces together, ¡°which was found in the Asutnahem ruins, outworld. I think i¡¯ve caught up now. Using this shield, they were able to traverse this Corridor that was discovered, which catapulted them deeper into Interrealmal space¡ª although i¡¯ve yet to hear how deep it sent them, exactly¡ª far enough that you would feel safe establishing, what, a new domain?¡±

    Trey smiled and nodded.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to introduce you both to an outpost we¡¯ve been establishing on the far side of this corridor, give or take a month of travel. We call it Skyhold, and it could very well prove to be our new home for a very long time.¡±

    <hr>

    Hunter waddled out of the apartment building into the dimly lit day. Pulling an all-nighter would typically have a very small impact. He¡¯d grown used to them over the years, but after what he¡¯d experienced just a few hours ago had effected him deeply. He felt simultaneously exhuasted and invigorated. The combination made him feel a bit floaty.

    His mind was quieter, his body was far more relaxed. And he felt like he was seeing the world a bit differently. There was space around his thoughts that wasn¡¯t there before¡ª he could see how he would jump to conclusions almost reflexively about the people around him. Most of the people here were born rich, and that always meant to Hunter that they were bad people. Spoiled, inexperienced, and immature, were some of the more polite ways he had to label them.

    Today he saw the same, but there was room to see more. They might be all those things and more, but they were like him. They were just people, doing what they had to in order to live the life they wanted to live.

    Which, he realized, would have been informed by whatever they¡¯ve experienced in their lives, their ambitions fueled by fear and beauty, just like his had. It made him wonder just what he would be like if he¡¯d been born with everything he wanted.

    Would getting out of Sanctuary seem so alluring? What if he¡¯d been born to ambitious parents, who saw the company as the whole world, and dreamed of improving their family¡¯s station through ascending the corporate ranks?

    Would he feel stifled, or focused on making that dream a reality?

    What if they¡¯d treated him lovingly, and he saw them as ideals to strive towards. Wouldn¡¯t their dreams be his dreams? Wouldn¡¯t he want what they wanted?

    What if they¡¯d treated him as if he was a problem that needed to be solved, an asset to be molded to accomplish their will? Wouldn¡¯t he feel an even deeper motivation to prove himself? Maybe not to them, maybe he¡¯d grow to resent him.

    But that feeling of being unworthy would remain. Maybe a lot of people felt the same way he did¡ª like something was wrong with them, and they needed to prove that they were worthy of existing, they needed to strive to move mountains just to feel safe. They were just people. And they were as flawed as he was. Pippen''s arrogant sneer flashed through his mind. It didn¡¯t mean he had to like these people, but he felt like he had the possibility of understanding them a bit more deeply, now.

    Hunter enjoyed his early morning walk. It felt enlightening and refreshing. His mind stilled as he walked, and his attention expanded to take in everything¡ª every sound, every feeling, every sight. It took them all in and left very little room for judgement. All there was, was sensation. Color, sound, taste, feeling. It all breathed, moving in and out of his consciousness with utter ease. He smiled as he walked, feeling a deep peace that he had never felt before while being out around people. For the first time since he could remember, the tension he¡¯d felt around others was gone. He didn¡¯t feel like he belonged, he didn¡¯t feel like he didn¡¯t belong, he was just there, and he felt great.

    Despite having drank a few cups of coffee over the last few hours, he was feeling more drowsy as the minutes wore on. He decided to make his way back home. He finally got some sleep, and woke up just in time to have a snack before his session with Aera.

    The feeling of peace he¡¯d enjoyed during his walk had started to abate, but it was still there. He could feel it more like a background presence, but those old reflexive judgements were starting to emerge. He felt a bit disappointed, he would have loved for the peace to stay forever, but his intuition told him that it would be back one day. He just had to continue learning how to relax even more deeply, and to focus for longer.

    He had to focus on who he wanted to be, and learn how to see how he had seen during the walk. He had to remember that there was more to the world than what he thought and felt, because up until now, most of his actions were informed by nothing the painful memories of his childhood. As the peace abated, and his normal thoughts and feelings returned, he couldn''t help but feel that he needed to find out who he was beyond the person he¡¯d become.

    Who would he be once his AR was higher than everyone else''s, and his research was revolutionizing the world?

    Who would he be when he was exploring new worlds, discovering strange new sights, sounds, and tastes?

    Would he be a child in a man¡¯s body, running from a phantom, or would he be powerful and present, living as vibrantly as he could? Maybe, the person he was today couldn¡¯t be that person he always imagined being.

    Those were his thoughts as he entered the rec center, and made his way to the room where Aera would be holding her portion of their sessions.

 Chapter 42

    Halfway through the training, Hunter realized he¡¯d never gotten Tilda¡¯s number. He¡¯d need to correct that as soon as possible. He was punished for being distracted, as Aera¡¯s fist connected with his chest. She pulled back at the last second, so he didn¡¯t get the wind knocked out of him, but it still hurt.

    ¡°Focus, Hunter.¡±

    He attacked the pad with as much force as he could muster, which wasn¡¯t much, but she was pleased by his renewed effort. He pushed himself until each punch became a labor. She could almost feel his focus, as he disregarded everything but the pad she was holding, and summoning the effort for the next hit. Afterwards they moved to kicks, and by the time they finished those, she knew that she wouldn¡¯t be getting any more out of him for the night, so they decided to call it quits.

    They both sat on the floor, waiting for Hunter to cool off before he dried himself and got changed. She waited until his breath was more even before inquiring into his personal affairs.

    ¡°So, tell me about this new distraction you¡¯ve been having. What¡¯s her name?¡± She asked. Hunter hadn¡¯t been ready for the question, based on the surprised look. He seemed almost embarrased at first, but managed to catch himself and laugh it off.

    ¡°The team that one the Youth Artisan Competition, there was a girl with them. The whole team got a sponsorship to the academy, and I met her the other day at the Artisan Department.¡±

    ¡°Something Burner, right? Tilly?¡±

    ¡°Tilda,¡± Hunter said, squeezing his waterbottle and catching the stream with practiced ease. He¡¯d been working on that one for a while. It had taken him a few sessions before he could gauge where is own mouth was, and another few before he could consistently hit the target without getting water in his eye.

    ¡°Right, Tilda Burner. I remember her. A bit of a firecracker, from what I saw. Look Hunter, i¡¯m happy you¡¯ve made a new friend, but there¡¯s something I need to talk to you about.¡±

    Hunter didn¡¯t seem to like where this conversation was headed, but he kept his thoughts to himself and listened, which she appreciated.

    ¡°Being an Oberon means that we need to be a bit more careful about who let in to our circle, understand?¡±

    ¡°I guess,¡± Hunter said, ¡°but she¡¯s one of us, right?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right, but sometimes that doesn¡¯t mean much as you think it does, especially at Barnum.¡±

    Hunter shook his head.

    ¡°She¡¯s not a Visgold, and she¡¯s been nothing but kind to me so far. I don¡¯t really see the issue,¡± he said. She could see the protest in his posture, as tired as he was. She tried to see it from his perspective.

    Despite the attack, he still seemed incredibly naive towards the motivations of the people around him.

    ¡°We¡¯ve got more to worry about than the Visgolds, more than i¡¯ve told you about. There¡¯s a lot going on behind the scenes. I¡¯ve been able to handle it all so far, and there¡¯s nothing for you to worry about yet, but I just need you to be careful. Sound her out a bit before you decide to trust her completely, alright?¡±

    Tilda Burner, Aera thought, had already been vetted by a team of analysts. But that was before she entered Barnum. Aera would give her name to the investigators that were helping her comb into the lives of everyone she¡¯d met so far. Tilda would be watched. If she did anything that even hinted that she had an ulterior motive for getting close to Hunter¡ª which, of course she did, even if she didn¡¯t recognize it¡ª she would cut the relationship off.

    Hunter wouldn¡¯t like it, but maybe he¡¯d come around to it after she¡¯d presented him with the evidence.

    He might have a stubborn streak, but he¡¯d seemed pretty reasonable and open to change up to this point. Maybe it wouldn¡¯t be as bad as she predicted, but that was only in the case that Tilda Burner turned out to be something more than what she was presenting to Hunter.

    Hunter shook his head, but he didn¡¯t protest her suggestion.

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll be careful. But I think you¡¯re being paranoid,¡± Hunter said. Aera shrugged.

    ¡°After seeing what i¡¯ve seen, you¡¯d be paranoid too.¡±

    Hunter tilted his head, as if an interesting thought occurred to him, and he was about to say something but then he seemed to think better of it and let it go. She wouldn¡¯t pry. She didn¡¯t really care, anyways. As long as he was willing to do what he was told, she¡¯d let him think what he wanted.

    Once the session was over, Hunter got changed, and they both left for the apartment building. His portion of the session went smoothly, with neither of them having much to say outside of the contents of what they were working on. Once more, she left the session with a lot to consider, but feeling content that she was making good progress. Maybe she wouldn¡¯t be recognized as an Excellence candidate this year, but who knew what the future held? There were still two years of academy life left, and she would push herself to learn as much as she could.

    She had full faith in her capabilities¡ª nothing can stop her when she set her mind to something.

    After the session, she returned to her apartment and got to planning. She had a whole network of contacts to call, and a lot of information to catch up on. It was going to be a long night, but it would be worth it.

    Jason Chan must fancy himself as some kind of master of the shadows, but he was underestimating how many resources a sufficiently motivated Oberon could move. She¡¯d already started to discover some very interesting things about what Mr. Chan was getting up to in his spare time, and had started to take action based on what she learned.

    So far, most of her measurements about the man had been taken passively, save for her retaliatory display with Pippen, who was due to be released from the hospital any day now. Now it was time to start taking a more active approach. Aera needed to light a fire under Jasons ass, to see just how far he was willing to go against her.

    She would put him in a difficult situation, and his response would decide his fate.

    <hr>

    Jason smiled as he counted the wad of cash in his hand. There were 50 bills, each worth 100 credits each; a profitable evening.

    He¡¯d started with about twice the amount he had now, and half of it ended up going to his new friends in the campus security department. He¡¯d greased his way to having full access to a nice stretch of the campus for uninterrupted business.

    They would look the other way every second day, and let Jason¡¯s people sell their goods without interruption. At this point, Jason was sure he was fueling over half of the campus¡¯s party culture on his own¡ª and his family only knew about 30 percent of the operation. The other 70 percent he kept secret. He¡¯d reveal it in time, and present it as a surprise gift for the family, a legacy to prove his devotion to their goal, and his worthiness as a recipient of the Chan family¡¯s growing power and resource base.

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    In the meantime, all that extra profit was his to use as he desired. And he had a couple of plans in place, targeted around some of his favorite people.

    He smiled as he returned home. His maids left as he entered, having done their best to keep his room clean. They both smiled and bowed as they passed him.

    They were students who owed him, and had seen first hand how he handled debts that weren¡¯t paid in a timely manner. Neither of them could afford to pay back the debt on their own, so he offered a deal in return for writing half of the debt off. Keep his place clean, and make it look like he still had his assigned roommates, and in return, they wouldn¡¯t have to be made an example of while they paid back what they owed him.

    It was a win/win, and the money they owed wouldn¡¯t amount to much anyways. It was the principle that mattered. What you did was just as important as how you did it. Even if that meant you were a complete beginner, making something utterly horrendous. If you approached it with the intention to learn and improve, doing your best at every step along the way, then you had nothing to be ashamed of. It was important to measure the gain, and only be peripherally aware of the gap. Knowing there was room to improve was different than focusing on just how far you had to go. One step in front of the other, that was all that mattered.

    Patience was a virtue that Jason Chan was keen on cultivating. It had proven to be not only necessary, but optimal. He had a whole host of enemies to tear down¡ª most of them didn¡¯t even realize that he had set his sights on them. Most of them wouldn¡¯t, even as their lives crumbled around them and their careers were ruined, and their loved ones and associates turned their backs on them, and Jason stepped in to fill the void that they would leave, they would have no idea that he was the one to blame for their misfortune.

    Jason smiled.

    Some people enjoyed the vibility, and the glory. He¡¯d been tempted by it once, but he realized that the shadows presented an alluring advantage. He could move more freely, and cause a greater effect. Even if people were aware of who he was, if he played his cards right, his movements would stay hidden, his motives would remain shrouded in a veil of uncertainty.

    His phone rang.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got Chan,¡± he said, making his tone as upbeat as possible, hoping to infect whoever was on the other end of the line with his good mood.

    ¡°Boss, i¡¯ve got some bad news. Campus security found out about our deal with some of their guys. They¡¯ve started detaining people. Some of them are are talking.¡±

    Jason stilled. He breathed in slowly, doing his best to remain calm.

    ¡°Come over to my place, you can fill me in on the details once you¡¯re here,¡± he said.

    ¡°Yes, Boss.¡±

    ¡°Oh, and make sure you have everything. I want every detail, I want to know how they found out, and who snitched after the fact. Everything,¡± Jason said.

    He could hear the man gulp on the other end of the line.

    ¡°Yes, Boss. I¡¯ll be there in a bit.¡±

    Jason knew he was being unfair, but his underling¡¯s knew that the price of delivering bad news was only beaten by the price of not being the one to deliver him the news that he needed to hear.

    He justified it as a way to motivate his people to excel for him.

    But Jason knew better about the kind of man he was. He just liked to hurt people, and there was nothing wrong with that, in his view. It was their own fault for not being in a position of power over him.

    Not that any of them would want to be in a position of power over him. They knew that that would only make them a target, and who would want to be Jason¡¯s target?

    His underling appeared at his front door, head bowed as he entered. They went straight to the kettle to prepare some tea for them both. Jason waited patiently, and was pleasantly surprised by the snack that the man had brought with him. Jason smiled at the clever little man. Would the gesture appease Jason?

    Not likely. He had little tolerance for failure, and his business here was potentially threatened.

    Not that he was entirely worried about that, he had the perfect fall guy in place. Jason would be able to rebuild from the ashes of what once was, in the worst case scenario.

    ¡°So? Brief me,¡± Jason said, savouring the uncertainy in the man¡¯s eyes. He was a third year student, a couple of years older than Jason himself. His family had thorougly woven their web around him.

    He was practically owned by them, unofficially. Officially he was a free student, sponsored by the Smith Transport Corporation. He would have had a bright future, had Jason not found him. The young man had been at the wrong place at the wrong time, and he was now under the Chan family¡¯s control.

    Sucks to suck.

    ¡°It took some digging, but it¡¯s clear that campus security was tipped off by Aera Oberon personally.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t say,¡± Jason sighed, ¡°and how did you find that out?¡±

    ¡°I asked the secretary, who owed me a favor, and knew that he¡¯d be interfering in Chan family business by refusing to cooperate.¡±

    Jason leaned back in his seat, crossing a leg as he sipped the tea. It was weak.

    The man had failed in his attempt to appease Jason.

    ¡°Good work,¡± Jason said, picking up his mobile phone and making a call. As soon as the man he¡¯d called answered, Jason said ¡°come,¡± and hung up.

    He brought his attention back to the young man in his apartment.

    ¡°And who snitched? What¡¯s the damage?¡±

    The man gulped.

    ¡°It''s bad. They found a few of our stashes, and are taking more of our people into custody as we speak. They¡¯ve called in law enforcement.¡±

    Jason waved his hand.

    ¡°It¡¯s no big problem. I can afford the financial loss. I want a list of names, you understand? Everyone who talked. Don¡¯t leave a single. Person. Out. Okay?¡±

    The man nodded, standing to leave and do what he was told, but Jason stopped him.

    ¡°Did I give you permission to leave?¡±

    ¡°But, sir,¡± the man said, smiling to show that he was eager to do Jason¡¯s bidding, ¡°I must get to work immediately. Time is of the essence.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m aware,¡± Jason said. There was a knock on the door, and he stood to open the door. The man who walked in made his underling pale.

    ¡°Once your punishment has concluded, you will get to work. In the meantime, I have a few calls to make,¡± Jason said, smiling at the man who just entered and patting him on the shoulder, ¡°Have fun. Don¡¯t break him, he¡¯s merely the messenger. I¡¯ll have more entertainment for you by the end of the night.¡±

    The man grunted.

    Jason left him to his devices.

    There would be no screaming, no evidence that anything untoward was happening in the suite he just left, but one man would be leaving with a feeling of relief for his pent up aggression and malevolent urges. The other would leave with some bruising, maybe some scars, and an unforgettable reminder that Jason was not a man that he would want to disappoint.

    It would serve as a lesson.

    And entertainment.

    He called his mother.

    ¡°Edith,¡± She answered.

    ¡°I¡¯ve some bad news, mother.¡±

    ¡°Oh, Jason. You know how much I love cleaning up your messes. Tell me, what have you done now?¡±

    Jason closed his eyes and bit his tongue. Defending himself would prove fruitless. He told her what he¡¯s just learned, and the actions he was taking in order to address it. Then he told her who they suspected was behind their sudden loss of business.

    His mother cursed.

    ¡°They¡¯ll get what¡¯s coming to them. The Locke family has blessed our ascension, and we will soon make our move. You need only to be patient for a small while longer, son.¡±

    ¡°Yes, mother.¡±

    She hung up, and Jason was left feeling comforted by the conversation. He would have some work ahead of him, making sure that he wasn¡¯t implicated. He would need alibi¡¯s, and would need to give the law enforcement people someone who they can charge and arrest for the influx of illicit substances into the most prestigious academic institution in the world.

    He made a call to one of the guards he had stationed outside of Pippen¡¯s hospital room. The young man would soon be released, and was looking forward to resuming his life on campus.

    Unfortunately, Jason had other plans for him.

    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s me. You still have the packages I gave you? Good. Put one in his room, and the rest in his apartment. Yes, now. Very good, let me know when you¡¯re done,¡± he said, concluding the call.

    It was going to be a long night, but the downfall of his closest friend would at least prove itself to be somewhat amusing.

    Pippen would know Jason had betrayed him, and would be tempted to talk, and whatnot. But most of the evidence would imply that he had a personal grudge against the Chan¡¯s, and that he had been sent by his family to slowly sabotage Jason Chan, ruining his future to destabilize the Chan¡¯s position, ultimately influencing their relationship with the Locke¡¯s. By the time the evidence was all planted, it would just be a matter of influencing the course of whatever investigation was brewing. A rumor here, a confession there. Standard operating procedure.

    Despite the circumstances, Jason felt his optimistic mood returning. Business would continue, and he would build it back up. The club was growing, and most of the faculty who were aware of the proceedings were agreeing to look the other way. They didn¡¯t want to get involved in the games of the social elite, even if it did mean that students were being severely injured on a regular basis.

    The Chan¡¯s influence would continue to grow, and Jason would be able to rest assured that his future with the family was secure.

 Chapter 43

    ¡°Get him, Hunter!¡± Clark yelled from the side of the ring. Hunter ducked a hook, and stepped back, anticipating Rick¡¯s follow-up kick and lunging forward to take advantage of his opponents momentary opening. He collapse rick¡¯s leg at the knee and swept his other leg out from under him.

    ¡°The match goes to Hunter!¡± Instructor Immanuel said, clapping his hands, ¡°outstanding work, Koar!¡±

    Hunter helped Rick up, and the young man scowled, but accepted the hand.

    ¡°Good fight!¡± Hunter said, but Rick just shook his head and murmured something under his breath. Hunter glanced at Clark and pumped his fist. Clark mirrored the gesture.

    Ricks¡¯ bad attitude wasn¡¯t Hunters problem. He tried to play off the win as if it were no big deal, but the shit-eating grin on Hunters face betrayed his effort. He resisted the urge to look back in Rick¡¯s direction, the poor guy was upset enough as it was.

    Rick had taken the first point, and Hunter had expected the match to go poorly, but he found that over the last few days, his body was able to keep up with his mind. He wasn¡¯t as worried about not being able to land a good hit, or counter his opponents strength. In the last 6 days his AR had risen¡ª at least one point for reach day, but recently it started to accelerate.

    The only problem was that whatever skills he¡¯d drilled over the last few months were needing to be relearned. He wasn¡¯t used to the body he was growing into.

    Seeing the number 16 on the AR recorder felt like something out of a dream, to him. It was over 3 times higher than what it had been when he started, and it hadn¡¯t even been that long. But as his AR rose, his body started to change. He was hungrier, thirstier, and felt like he had an excess of energy that made it necessary to avoid coffee for the first time in his life.

    Thank the heavens for decaf. There was a time when Hunter thought that decaf coffee was ridiculous, and it wasn¡¯t until he was faced with the prospect of having to go without coffee at all that the non-caffeinated version suddenly made sense. Coffee was part of his routine at this point, and seemed to have transformed into something of a psychological trigger.

    ¡°How you feeling Hunter? Ready for the next one?¡± the instructor asked him. Hunter nodded. They were playing Winner Stays. This was the first time Hunter had ever won a round of sparring, and he didn¡¯t feel the least bit tired. He was ready for whatever came next.

    ¡°Emelia, you¡¯re up!¡±

    Hunter frowned.

    He was ready for anything except for Emelia.

    ¡°How does it feel?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Feels good,¡± Hunter said, ¡°it¡¯s been a long time coming.¡±

    ¡°Sorry for having to ruin your fun,¡± she said.

    ¡°Go!¡± the Instructor said, announcing the start of the fight before Hunter could respond.

    Emelia launched herself at him, and she was fast. He stepped aside from the chopping kick at the last second, barely able to catch his balance before he saw the fist hit his chest.

    ¡°Point for Emelia, back to your positions.¡±

    He hadn¡¯t had much time to process what just happened. Had she always been that fast? He did his best to remember the brief encounter, and decided that the key problem was that he hadn¡¯t been fully focused. He¡¯d been distracted.

    He shook himself out of it and focused on the fight, just before the instructor called the start of the next round.

    She had apparently decided to take this round a bit more passively, waiting for Hunter to take the initiative, which he didn¡¯t really like. He slowly closed the distance, watching for any tension in her body, any sign that she would suddenly change her mind and attack.

    When he was within three feet, she threw out a punch which Hunter blocked with ease, and he kept his eyes peeled for any follow up. She was keeping her posture tight, not letting herself create an opening for him to take advantage of as far as her upper body went, but her lower body was still game.

    The idea that she was anticipating his train of thought couldn¡¯t be dismissed, but he couldn¡¯t think of an alternative.

    He wondered how strong he was compared to her, now.

    He dropped his posture a bit, leaning forward slightly, trying to reduce the size difference between them. He sent out a few testing jabs in response to hers, and aimed a kick at her thigh, which she avoided, stepping in way to close for comfort. Hunter braced himself for her to try and sweep him off his feet, and sent out a desperate undercut towards her stomach.

    It hit, and lucky for him, it hit at an angle that the instructor could see.

    ¡°Point for Hunter! You¡¯re getting sloppy, Emelia!¡±

    Emelia growled in frustration.

    ¡°I would have had you,¡± she said, as she went back to her starting position. What could Hunter say? All he could do was take the small victory he¡¯d been given.

    Could he do it again?

    Suddenly, the prospect of winning his second round in a row against Emelia wasn¡¯t just a slim possibility.

    He would just have to be smarter than her, and that meant either one of two things. Beating her at her own game, or refusing to play the game altogether.

    ¡°Go!¡±

    They both approached each other. Her loss had apparently been enough of an excuse for her to take this match a bit more seriously. He saw a focus in her that usually wasn¡¯t there, and he knew that his chances of winning appeared to decrease by a significant degree.

    Hunter decided to mirror her starting strategy. He kicked out, but instead of trying to dodge it she blocked it and backstepped just enough to ensure that he wouldn¡¯t be in range to follow up with something else.

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    He did the smart thing and waited to see how she responded. She spun and threw out a back-kick, somehow launching herself towards him fast enough that the kick actually took him by surprise, even if he saw the wind up. He backpedaled, but knew that it was a mistake because he¡¯d just given her an opportunity to build momentum. So he started to move forward again, hoping to take her by surprise and score another undercut to her stomach. But she had spun away from him, and was reaching for his arm. He knew what that meant, having a sudden flashback to their previous fight. Hunter jumped stepped back, pulling his arm as fast as he could. She grinned when she saw that he knew what she was up to.

    Despite her casual attitude, her intensity increased a notch. She swept her foot out suddenly, and Hunter expected a kick but then she spun, kicking her foot back towards him and then lunged at him, leaning slightly away from him enough that her body was nearly horizontal with the ground, and spinning in the air. Hunter was mesmerized for a second, having never seen this before, but it was almost like he could hear Aera¡¯s voice telling him to stay focused

    She completed a full spin in the air and then kicked as she landed, which looked like it would hit him in the shoulder, so he pushed himself to the side, away from the edge of the ring.

    Hunter stumbled, suddenly. He watched in what felt like slow-motion as Emelia landed, and seeing that he¡¯d repositioned, pivoted on the foot she¡¯d landed on and kicked towards him with the other. Had he been an inch further from her, it wouldn¡¯t have hit.

    Alas, it hit with enough force to do the work that gravity had been struggling to do itself, and hunter was knocked onto his back.

    ¡°The match goes to Emelia! For future reference, this is not a gymnastics class, those are held tomorrow, and I don¡¯t run them. Impressive, though,¡± the Inspector said while inspecting a nail, his voice was utterly flat.

    He looked up at Hunter.

    ¡°Nice try, kid. Next up is Johnny!¡±

    ¡°Good fight,¡± Emelia called as she went to her starting position and Hunter left. He suddenly felt a bit like he imagined Rick had, but he decided not to be a poor sport about the loss. After all, he had won a fight today, and scored a point on her.

    ¡°Good fight,¡± he replied.

    ¡°No one expected her to go ninja mode on you. You can barely blame yourself for that loss,¡± Clark said as Hunter sat down beside him, keeping his voice low so that the inspector wouldn¡¯t call him out for disrupting the match.

    Hunter shrugged.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know that people could even do that. It was all a blur.¡±

    Emelia had done something he¡¯d never seen before and he¡¯d lost because he wasn¡¯t prepared. Next time, he¡¯d have a way to respond. He¡¯d talk to Aera about it when he had a chance. They wouldn¡¯t have martial arts training tonight, but he could bring it up during their session tomorrow.

    ¡°Listen, Hunter. You¡¯ve been doing really good so far,¡± Clark said, his tone getting a bit deeper.

    ¡°Oh, thanks man,¡± Hunter said, not expecting the sudden praise.

    ¡°Seriously, I¡¯ve noticed the difference in you since you¡¯ve started. I don¡¯t think anyone else has been pushing themselves as hard as you have. I personally think it''s admirable, and that¡¯s what I look for in the people I want to spend my time around.¡±

    Hunter just smiled and patted Clark on the shoulder.

    ¡°Thanks, I appreciate it,¡± Hunter said, uncertain about how he was supposed to act when he was being complimented. It seemed like a glaring blind spot in his social repertoire. Did people write books on social etiquette? Maybe he could find some help at the library.

    Clark seemed to pick up on Hunters awkwardness and shook his head with a smile.

    ¡°Look, I''m telling you this because me and a few others who share a similar outlook on life are gonna be hanging out this evening. I think you¡¯d get along with them, there might be an opportunity for you to make some great connections. You interested?¡±

    Hunter¡¯s first instinct was to say no, but he hesitated.

    Who did he want to be? He didn¡¯t need to be afraid of people anymore. He¡¯d just won his first fight¡ª sure it was under controlled conditions, but so what?

    Clark had said that the people at the gathering would be people who admired hard work¡ª maybe he would find that they were kind of like him, all devoted to some sort of excellence.

    It could be fun.

    It could be incredibly awkward, but should he deny himself the opportunity to find out for himself?

    ¡°Sure,¡± he said, still feeling like he was going a bit too far out of his comfort zone than he wanted to be, ¡°I¡¯ll be there. Just let me know when and where. But if its past 7pm I won¡¯t be able to make it.¡±

    Aera would be pissed if he canceled. She seemed to find a lot of value in Hunters advice regarding her budding interest in constructs and etherium. Although he could tell her heart wasn¡¯t really in it. Her interest seemed to be more in the realm of brute-forcing her way into being the best. He¡¯d spoken his mind on the matter, and she was still just as devoted as ever to wasting her time, but that wasn¡¯t any of his business. His end of the deal was to show up and answer questions.

    ¡°No problem, we typically get together around 4:30 or 5. Give me your number after class and I¡¯ll let you know.¡±

    Hunter agreed. Once class was over, he gave his number to Clark and went home. On his way, he realized he had forgotten to give Mrs. Verilion a call to tell her about trying to set up a meeting between Trey and Professor Jackson. As soon as he got home, he dialed her number.

    ¡°Hello, Hunter! How are things at Barnum?¡± Mrs. Verilion asked as soon as she picked up.

    ¡°How did you know it was me?¡± Hunter asked, feeling like it was going to be a day of surprises. His AR had hit 16, he¡¯d won a fight, been invited out to attend a meeting with like minded individuals, and now there were magical ways to tell who was calling you?

    ¡°New tech that Oberon is launching next month. A much smaller phone with a little display that can show pre-programmed numbers and names you¡¯ve attached to them. Neat, huh? It¡¯s small enough to fit in your pocket,¡± she said, and Hunter wondered if she¡¯d done some time in sales at some point in her career.

    ¡°Do I get one of those?¡± he asked.

    ¡°You¡¯ll get one mailed to you a few days before they hit stores.¡±

    It was a day for surprises indeed, Hunter thought.

    ¡°Is it etherium based?¡± He asked, wondering if he¡¯d get to study some new network schematics. Oberon never officially grabbed a piece of his fathers wireless etherium network that was built around the world, but that didn¡¯t mean Oberon couldn¡¯t make their own.

    ¡°Heavens, no. Much more mundane, but its still impressive. I was skeptical at first, but then they showed me the final product and how it flips open and closed, and I was hooked.¡±

    Hunter felt like he needed to get this brand new, top of the line technology as soon as possible. He¡¯d never cared much about studying electronics, but that didn¡¯t mean he thought that any tech outside of constructs were dull.

    ¡°The reason why I called was because I wanted to know if Trey had ever heard of a man named Dr. Arbutus Jackson?¡± Hunter asked. He was holding the professors card in his hands, which he¡¯d snagged after his last class with the man.

    ¡°Boot-is.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Hunter asked, wondering if she¡¯d been talking to someone else.

    ¡°It¡¯s pronounced Ar-boot-is, and yes, Mr. Oberon is well acquainted with the man. In fact, he¡¯s become the majority sponsor of the professors work, especially after he finished his most recent paper. I¡¯ve heard some whispers about bringing him into the company on a full-time basis, but you didn¡¯t hear that from me,¡± she said. And Hunter was suddenly intrigued.

    ¡°What do you mean? What¡¯s Oberon Enterprise¡¯s interest in ancient history?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to ask Trey about that personally, I''m afraid,¡± Mrs. Verilion said, ¡°he doesn¡¯t keep me in the loop with certain things.¡±

    For some reason, Hunter doubted that.

    ¡°I¡¯m curious, how many people are walking around with the newest generation of mobile phones a month in advance?¡± he asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s been great to hear from you, Hunter, but I''m afraid I''m quite busy today. Do make some time to give Mr. Oberon a call, he loves to hear from you both personally. Have a great day,¡± she said, hanging up the phone.

    ¡°Thought so,¡± Hunter said to no one in particular. The mystery of the Asutnahem got deeper and deeper. The professor had said that the Asutnahem knew about the edge of the world, and he wondered if that¡¯s what his last paper had been about.

    What was Trey¡¯s interest in that? Had they found something that confirmed the professors theory? Was it a profitable discovery, or something that Trey was willing to invest heavily into in order to scratch an itch?

    Hunter was itching to find out too, but he knew that if there was anyone more busy than Mrs. Verilion, it was Trey Oberon. He¡¯d call him later that night to find out what was going on.

 Chapter 44

    He watched Tilda sauder in the final channels on their second prototype, and he double checked her work. She didn¡¯t seem to mind having him confirm her quality, in fact she seemed to respect his dedication to the art.

    ¡°Good,¡± he said. It was just a prototype, the final product would be a lot more refined.

    ¡°That¡¯s probably the most complex channel-work I''ve ever done,¡± she said, having actually broken a sweat from the tension she¡¯d been under while concentrating. Hunter nodded and declined to comment. Sometimes, especially times like these, he would be tempted to say something that would seem to diminish the value she brought to their partnership. If he said that the work she¡¯d done was actually pretty basic compared to what he was used to doing, it would seem a bit arrogant. And maybe a little bit toxic.

    Besides, she was proud of herself. If she was happy, he was happy.

    ¡°Want to take a break?¡± He asked, ¡°we¡¯ve been at this for hours and I''m starving.¡±

    She looked at him as if he¡¯d just managed to divide by zero.

    ¡°You? Hungry?¡± She pinched herself, ¡°Nope, I''m not dreaming.¡±

    It occurred to him that she was being sarcastic.

    ¡°Ha-ha.¡±

    ¡°Can you wait until we¡¯re finished here? I¡¯m really looking forward to seeing if it all works together, and I won¡¯t be able to eat in peace while I''m in such a tremendous state of suspense,¡± she said.

    ¡°Fine,¡± Hunter said, silently consoling his aggrieved stomach, ¡°It¡¯s gonna be a big dinner, though.¡±

    ¡°As long as you¡¯re paying,¡± she teased.

    ¡°When have I ever so much as implied that I was anything other than a gentleman?¡± Hunter asked, grasping his wounded heart.

    ¡°Hmm, let¡¯s see,¡± Tilda said, holding her chin as she contemplated, ¡°well, actually there are a few times. There was that time when¡ª¡±

    ¡°So how about getting these tests started, hey?¡± Hunter said as he started to line up the plates on the workbench. Tilda rolled her eyes but eagerly bounced off the chair and grabbed the other pieces of their prototype armor. They placed one piece on the table, and Tilda attached it to a drawstone. She activated the construct, and Hunter felt into the flow of etherium through the network. He was still reluctant to tell Tilda about his sensitivity, and his research. He sometimes wondered if she¡¯d figure it out on her own, as he didn¡¯t really take many precautions in order to hide it.

    But he really didn¡¯t need to hide it. The fact is, there were no fancy gestures required in order to feel what he felt. He just felt it, as long as he was close enough. As far as she was aware, he could just be staring at the construct intently, hoping that it all worked out the way they wanted it to.

    He marveled at the detail he could make out in the etheric flow through the network. Ever since he¡¯d started to trace out his channels, and watched them as they started to grow and develop on their own, his sensitivity to etherium as it flowed through networks seemed to have amplified by a small amount. He could feel more minute details in the etheric flow, and was feeling some novel sensations he¡¯d never felt before, or at least never really appreciated on their own.

    He hadn¡¯t taken too much time to dive into his new and improved sensitivity¡ª mostly because he hadn¡¯t had the time. Between school, Tilda, Aera, and the focus training which he had promised himself to do every day, his personal research had taken a backseat¡ª way, way in the back.

    He knew that uncovering what these new sensations were, and what they meant, would be a long-term projects. It had taken him years to come up with what¡¯ he¡¯d already developed, and he knew that this work would be something he expanded on for the rest of his life.

    ¡°Looks good,¡± Hunter said, ¡°You want to do the honors?¡±

    She smiled, picking up a hammer and pounding at the exposed plastic plate with all the force she could muster.

    It barely left a scratch.

    ¡°Looks like it works,¡± he said, picking up the armor to examine it further. The thin forcefield projected from the plate removed all chance of creating friction with the plates exposed surface, so he had to pick it up from behind.

    ¡°Moment of truth,¡± Tilda said, as she brought forth the next plate. They carefully connected them, the plastic plates clicking together as if they¡¯d been magnetized.

    Hunter felt the etherium flowing through them both. They¡¯d successfully created a modular construct network. Not exactly revolutionary, but there weren¡¯t many people doing what they¡¯d just done. Hunter had to make a show of testing the network, as if he didn¡¯t already know that the etherium was flowing through it just as they¡¯d intended it to.

    ¡°My turn,¡± he said, setting the construct down and hammering away at the newly attached plate. The worst he could do to it was leave a slight dent, as the etherium had to support twice the amount of glyphs that it had previously.

    Someone with a much higher AR and some battery supplementation could probably wear a whole suit covered in these plates.

    ¡°Let¡¯s turn on the wireless transmitter,¡± Hunter said, activating the first prototype he¡¯d made, which had been modified to support an expanded network of plates.

    He felt a small upwelling of pleasure as he activated such a powerful construct with minimal assistance from a battery to supplement the flow of etherium when he wasn¡¯t touching the drawstone. The final product would be much more demanding, as reinforcing metal was much more intensive than reinforcing plastic, and they would need to scale to cover a whole person, and potentially more than that.

    The construct activated, the etherium flowed, and Tilda reported the successful transmission once the first prototype plate was successfully attached to the others.

    They both cheered and hugged each other. Tilda was much more enthusiastic and practically jumped up an down.

    They disassembled the plates and packed up the prototypes. Tilda asked if she could keep them at her place, and Hunter didn¡¯t see a reason why she couldn¡¯t. They agreed to let him keep the original prototype, and she could take the newest version. He figured she would want to fiddle with it, and maybe see if she could make some improvements. They already had all of the plans for the prototypes reprinted, one copy for each of them. Even if she ended up making a mistake, they¡¯d be able to rebuild any part of the network in a small time.

    They left the workshop and took a detour around the soul in order to grab some good coffee on the way to Sailor¡¯s Diner. After making it to the diner, Tilda laughed as Hunter ordered two portions of fish and chips for dinner. He shrugged and looked at her like she was the weird one for not getting two portions for her own dinner.

    ¡°To each their own,¡± she said.

    He made sure to remember to order a milkshake. Chocolate, of course. Strawberry was fine, but the chocolate seemed to compliment the dark, decaffeinated coffee in such a wonderful way.

    ¡°Hey, Hunter. How much do you figure we can sell this tech for?¡± She asked, patting the large travel case they packed the prototypes into.

    Hunter honestly had no idea.

    ¡°Well, I imagine we could use more high-quality materials and sell a transmitter with a bundle of plates for 2 or 300 credits, with bulk orders on plates costing a bit less¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªI mean, the tech itself. The whole thing, the plans, everything,¡± she asked.

    It was an interesting question.

    ¡°I mean, this could be a huge business. Its relatively cheap compared to other armor options, both in cost and in AR requirement. We could get thousands of orders, maybe more, a year,¡± Hunter said, his pulse quickening as he started to do the math, ¡°We could leverage some of my family¡¯s network to advertise and distribute, meaning we wouldn¡¯t even have to worry about slowly ramping business up. We could be talking about millions of credits a year, if we get enough interest.¡±

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    Hunter realized that if they really decided to make a business out of this, it could start to expand more than he¡¯d anticipated. Thankfully, he wouldn¡¯t have to do all the admin work on his own. Trey would worry about getting the right people for the job.

    In a way, it would be the proof of a future return of investment, an assurance that Trey had made the right choice in bringing him into the fold. Aera would be happy too, as he¡¯d finally start contributing to the company¡ª and ultimately to the family she loves.

    Tilda¡¯s eyes widened.

    ¡°Not just a million, but millions, plural?¡±

    ¡°Potentially,¡± Hunter said, hating to dim her enthusiasm, ¡°potentially millions. It might not be that successful at all, who knows?¡±

    ¡°Still, that¡¯s a lot of potential,¡± she said, staring at the suitcase in a new light, ¡°I knew it would probably be a lot, but that¡¯s more than I expected.¡±

    Her eyes moved as she talked, she seemed to be deep in thought. There food arrived, and Hunter dug in. He was almost done his first portion of fries when he realized that Tilda had barely moved¡ª she hadn¡¯t even realized the food was in front of her.

    ¡°Your milkshake is gonna melt,¡± he said, and Tilda practically jumped.

    ¡°Credit for your thoughts?¡± He asked. She rarely seemed to drift off like that.

    He was pretty sure he knew what she was thinking about. It was a lot of money, and he had to remind himself that money like that wasn¡¯t even a big deal for the people he was now associated with. Although he was sure that if his assessment of the technology was correct, Trey might be interested in investing. Who knows, with access to even better materials and more time to develop, the tech could improve by leaps and bounds. Hunter felt tempted to improve it with synergies, making it more accessible to more people. He wondered how it would work with the new personal shields he¡¯d heard about, with their strange ability to shape a forcefield across a dynamic, moving surface.

    ¡°Nothing, just thinking of what life could be like with that kind of money,¡± she said, ¡°It would really help my family out.¡±

    Hunter really loved that about Tilda. At the prospect of earning life-changing amounts of money, her first thoughts were about how to take care of her loved-ones.

    He smiled at her, and she caught it and smiled back at him. They enjoyed each others gaze for a moment before Hunter felt his cheeks start to warm up a bit.

    In his opinion, she had the most beautiful eyes in the world.

    After dinner, they walked to Hunters apartment. They stood outside for a second, neither of them seemed eager to leave. Hunter was gripped by a sudden urge, and he leaned forward and kissed her. She accepted the kiss, leaning into him and gently pulling him a bit closer by his shirt collar. Hunter had never kissed a girl before. He felt his heartbeat accelerate rapidly with a rapidly expanding intensity of excitement and warmth.

    He always wondered what it would be like to feel another pair of lips against his. It felt good, it felt intimate. It felt like a deeper connection to her, something he hadn¡¯t even realized he¡¯d been craving until that very moment.

    She let go first, and she met his gaze with a shy smile. She seemed just as flustered as he was.

    He felt like he should say something. Anything. Something deep, something that would tell her just how incredibly profound this experience had been for him.

    ¡°W-Wow, you¡¯re awesome,¡± he said, feeling himself heat up with every syllable that left his mouth, knowing that the beauty he¡¯d wished to share with her had derailed the moment he¡¯d opened his mouth.

    Why did he get this way around her?

    ¡°I¡¯m awesome?¡± Tilda laughed, ¡°really? Shucks, thanks Hunter. You¡¯re pretty rad as well.¡±

    If he could dig a hole and hide in it forever, he would.

    ¡°I just, I needed to say something¡ª I didn¡¯t know what I could possibly say¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªIt¡¯s alright, Hunter. Its cute,¡± she said, but then she hesitated. Her cheer seemed to fade a bit.

    ¡°But..¡± he said, prompting her to continue. She tugged at he sleeve and kept her eyes downcast.

    ¡°But, I''m not really sure I want the same thing you do,¡± She shook her head, as she heard her own words, ¡°I mean I do, but my life has gotten a bit crazy recently and it¡¯s not something I can even think about right now. Maybe once everything¡¯s calmed down?¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± he said, the elation he¡¯d been feeling suddenly started to leave him. A small pit started to grow in his gut, ¡°Sure, I don¡¯t want you to feel like you¡¯re being forced into something you¡¯re not ready for.¡±

    He wondered if that was the mature thing to say.

    She sighed.

    ¡°Thanks, Hunter. I¡¯m sorry. I like you, I think that¡¯s obvious,¡± she shook her head and bit her lip, ¡°It¡¯s just not a good time.¡±

    ¡°Sure. I understand,¡± Hunter lied, ¡°If you want to talk about whatever¡¯s going on, you know you can call me anytime.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± she said softly, ¡°thanks, Hunter.¡±

    Hunter suddenly felt a distance between them now, one that hadn¡¯t been there before, but maybe it always had and he just hadn¡¯t seen it. Maybe he was imagining it.

    It wasn¡¯t any of his business, though. He had his own secrets, and he was glad that she was willing to be honest with him.

    Besides, it wasn¡¯t a complete rejection. She¡¯d kissed him back.

    Maybe he could count that as a small victory, one of the many he¡¯d achieved, recently.

    They both left each other for the evening, and Hunter prepared to meet with Clark and his friends. It was just past 5pm and he expected to receive the call at any moment. He figured that meeting new people would be a nice distraction from the rollercoaster of a day he¡¯d been having.

    Sure enough, a few minutes later, Clark called him. He gave him an address and said that he could come over any time.

    <hr>

    They were meeting at a bar across campus. It took Hunter about 20 minutes to walk there, and he was surprised to find that the whole place appeared to be deserted but for the bartender, and a small group of people seated around a round table, eating food and drinking beers. Clark saw him walk in and waved him over with a smile.

    ¡°Hunter! Welcome, come meet everyone. Everyone, this is the guy I was telling you about,¡±

    The small group of people all welcomed Hunter with friendly smiles. Clark started to introduce their names.

    ¡°We are the Society of Future Leaders. To my right, is Luther. Sponsored by Smith transports, and he¡¯s here to earn Excellence in wrestling. Beside him is Berry Falan, one of the most polite nerds you¡¯ll ever talk to,¡± Clark said.

    ¡°Fuck off,¡± Berry said, laughing. Hunter smiled at the banter.

    ¡°Next up is Joey ¡®T-Bone¡¯ Porter, an entrepreneurial sort with a few successful business back in the LockeMark domain. Then we¡¯ve got Jason Chan, who you may have heard of?¡± Clark asked, and Hunter shook his head.

    ¡°Pleasure, Hunter. I look forward to getting to know you,¡± Jason said, bowing his head slightly with a smile and extending his hand. Hunter shook the offered hand.

    ¡°And last but not least, Joffrey Loomus. He¡¯s here on a personal invitation from Barnum,¡± Clark said. Joffrey winked and Hunter and gave him a nod.

    ¡°Each and every one of these gentleman have proven themselves to be excellent individuals, who strive to make themselves into their own ideal, sparing no cost or effort. Is that something you can relate to?¡± Clark said, raising his voice for what Hunter felt was supposed to be some sort of initiation ritual.

    ¡°Yeah, I can relate to that,¡± Hunter said.

    ¡°I have personally seen Hunter¡¯s growth in martial arts. He¡¯s no champion, yet, but out of everyone in my class, he¡¯s shown the most improvement and focus. I also hear he¡¯s quite the whiz when it comes to constructs,¡± Clark said, raising his eyebrow towards Hunter, and Hunter got the impression that it was meant more like question.

    Well, he¡¯s always prided himself on his ability with etherium, and there was no reason to start being humble now. The rest of the group gave him their attention.

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve been studying and building constructs for as long as I can remember. After my dad died, I had to make a living somehow, and no one would hire me. So my only option was to leverage the only field of expertise I''d cultivated, which was etherium.¡±

    ¡°I imagine it wasn¡¯t easy,¡± one of them said. If Hunter remembered correctly, his name was Jason. ¡°I¡¯d love to hear more about that, but it can wait. We were just finishing our meal. We¡¯ll talk afterwards.¡±

    Hunter shrugged. He had an hour and a half to kill before his meeting with Aera, so he figured he could stay around and chat for a bit.

    The group was interesting. They all took turns talking about their progress, and some of the obstacles they¡¯d been dealing with along the way¡ª both in the way of their goals, and mental hurdles they¡¯ve had to overcome. To Hunter it all felt a bit introductory, as if they were retreading old ground for the benefit of Hunter.

    But something felt a bit off about the whole thing. Whenever Jason spoke, everyone would seem to pay him extra attention, as if every word he said was something important, whereas everyone else treated each other as if they were simply good friends out to a meal.

    But towards Jason, it was how Hunter imagined he¡¯d feel if he¡¯d been invited for a dinner with Trey before he¡¯d even heard of the global youth artisan competition. Jason Chan appeared to be something of a shot caller, or the leader of the group.

    It was an interesting dynamic. Who was this young man, and why was he so respected by his peers? Hunter found himself looking forward to their conversation. After everyone had eaten, Jason stood and motioned Hunter to follow him. He led him to the back of the bar, and Hunter was surprised when the Bartender let him through.

    ¡°I actually do a lot of business here,¡± Jason said as he led Hunter up some stairs and into a small office, ¡°I don¡¯t own the place, but the owner and I have a close business partnership. More specifically, the partnership is between him and my family, but the difference is semantics.¡±

    Jason sat down and poured himself a drink. He offered Hunter one, but Hunter declined. It would mess with his ability to focus after his session with Aera. Jason shrugged and put the bottle away. He sipped his drink and sighed in satisfaction.

    ¡°I must confess Hunter, I''m actually well aware of who you are,¡± Jason said, ¡°I hope you¡¯ll forgive me for any pretense.¡±

    Tension blossomed in Hunters chest. His entire focus converged on Jason.

    He studied the young man before him, searching for any sign of danger, but all he could see was that Jason seemed relaxed, with an easygoing smile, waiting patiently for Hunter to respond.

    ¡°Sure, my name¡¯s probably gone around campus after what happened at the beginning of the year,¡± Hunter said.

    ¡°Yes, that unfortunate little incident,¡± Jason said, as he leaned back in his chair. He stared at the ceiling for a moment.

    ¡°That¡¯s actually what I want to talk to you about. I owe you an apology.¡±

 Chapter 45

    Alarm bells were sounding through Hunters mind. He suddenly felt a bit cold, and yet he could feel his palms sweating, and his mouth was dry.

    ¡°Oh?¡± he asked, trying to keep his breathing even.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Jason said as he seemed to study Hunter intently, ¡°Pippen and I were old friends. His family and mine have done business together for quite a while. In fact, you could say that Pippen was something of a subordinate of mine."

    Hunter felt stunned. Was this a trap? Was he in danger?

    "And I must admit that I feel somewhat responsible for what happened,¡± Jason said, frowning as he spoke, ¡°I hadn¡¯t realized the kind of man that Pippen was, and I think that there were some obvious signs which, in hindsight, I had either missed or ignored due to our history.¡±

    Jason leaned forward in his chair.

    ¡°If I had known who I was really dealing with, I would have been able to divert him from taking such rash action against you. I¡¯ve known for a while how deeply he feels that the Visgolds have been a victim of the Oberon¡¯s for generations. Not that I''m laying the blame on you, understand,¡± Jason said, holding up both palms to forestall any objection that Hunter might have to his words.

    Hunter shook his head.

    ¡°So you¡¯re saying that Pippen works for you, but you didn¡¯t know that he¡¯d had any intention to attack me?¡± Hunter said, trying to hide the shaking he felt in his hands. His voice threatened to quiver.

    Hunter was having trouble parsing out what he was feeling. Fear mixed with rage, and grief. He felt like taking all of his anger out on Jason, for not having stopped his friend from nearly killing him.

    But it wasn¡¯t Jason¡¯s fault, if he was telling the truth.

    ¡°I¡¯m saying that Pippen worked for me, but no longer does. After I discovered his involvement in your attack, I cut ties with him. Of course, your sister was quick to accuse him, and made a very public example out of him. But he was my friend, you understand? I know how that sounds, but if it was your friend, wouldn¡¯t you give them the benefit of the doubt?¡±

    Hunter considered his words. He¡¯d honestly never been in that situation before.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Hunter said.

    ¡°Look, Hunter, I''m not exactly a saint. Ask anyone who knows me. I deal in the more morally grey areas of society¡ª and I''ve done my fair share of shady things in my life. But after Pippen attacked you, Aera seemed to declare war on everyone that Pippen''s ever known, including myself.¡±

    ¡°So that¡¯s why you brought me here,¡± Hunter said, ¡°this is about Aera.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s about both you and Aera. It¡¯s about the Visgolds and the Oberon, it¡¯s about Aera and me. Its about all of us. The thing is that despite the fact that Pippen acted on his own¡ª and you don¡¯t need to take my word for it. Ask the officers in charge of the investigation. In fact i¡¯m sure they¡¯ll be contacting you shortly with their findings. Pippen had you in his sights since the moment he saw you, because he felt that he needed to strike back at the Oberon family on behalf of his own,¡± Jason said, practically out of breath as he finished explaining.

    Hunter frowned.

    He hadn¡¯t heard anything about that.

    ¡°Your sister is under the impression that I was somehow involved, and has started to take action against not only me, but my businesses. And I have to tell you that it¡¯s not just my business, it¡¯s my family¡¯s business as well. Do you understand?¡± He paused and tilted his head.

    ¡°That didn¡¯t come out right, I''m not threatening you. I just want you to know what being successful here at Barnum really means to me. My family is counting on my ability to run things smoothly here, and I feel like I''m being unjustly targeted by your sister for something that I had no part in,¡± Jason said, spreading his palms as he plead his case.

    ¡°So, you want me to talk to her, or something?¡± Hunter asked. He wasn¡¯t sure if he could change Aera¡¯s mind about anything.

    Jason scoffed.

    ¡°Aera is a stubborn little creature. Once she¡¯s set her sights on someone, she¡¯s like a hound after a bone,¡± Jason said, practically spitting out the words, and Hunter heard venom in his voice. Jason sighed and deflated, his anger seeming to leave him as fast as it had appeared.

    ¡°Unfortunately, I''m sure I''ll remain a target of hers for the near future. However, I¡¯m not without defense and will act in turn. But!¡± He said, sticking up a finger, as if he expected Hunter to interject but wanted to get a word in before that.

    ¡°But, I just wanted to let you know that I have no interest in fanning the flames anymore than they already have been. I may be at war with your sister, but I''m not at war with you. I¡¯ve done my homework on you, Hunter. You appear to be rather independent, and open minded,¡± Jason said, reaching into his jacket¡¯s inner pocket and pulling out a business card. He handed it to Hunter.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t lying earlier, I feel like I owe you, and a mere apology isn¡¯t enough for what happened to you. There are services I can render you, but I have a feeling that party enhancers and illicit merchandise aren¡¯t really up your alley¡ª am I correct?¡±

    Hunter frowned.

    ¡°Yeah, not really my thing,¡± he said. Jason nodded.

    ¡°That¡¯s what I expected, but you never know. What I had in mind was more in the form of protection.¡±

    Hunter found himself intrigued.

    ¡°You mean like, weapons?¡±

    Jason laughed.

    ¡°Of course not, that would be highly illegal, and much more risky than anything I''d be willing to play with during my time here. I have aspirations after all, no I was thinking more along the lines of some bodyguards,¡± Jason said, smiling at Hunter.

    ¡°The school wouldn¡¯t allow it,¡± Hunter said, never mind the fact that bodyguards from his sisters rival didn¡¯t seem like a great idea. At the very least it could jeopardize his relationship with Trey, if he ever found out.

    ¡°The school wouldn¡¯t have to know. Your guards would be other students, and as far as the faculty are concerned, you¡¯re all just good friends who like to walk together between classes,¡± Jason said.

    Hunter considered the offer, but he still felt like it was too much of a risk.

    ¡°Thanks for the offer, Jason, but i¡¯m not really interested. You said it yourself, you and Aera aren¡¯t seeing eye to eye. I don¡¯t think doing business with you would be very appropriate.¡±

    Jason nodded, his smile didn¡¯t even twitch.

    ¡°The offer remains open. Keep the card, and let me know if you ever need anything. It¡¯s really the least I can do after what you¡¯ve been through.¡±

    Hunter stared at the card skeptically. Something about this still didn¡¯t feel right.

    ¡°You don¡¯t appear convinced of my authenticity,¡± Jason said, sighing.

    Hunter considered denying it, but maybe Jason could convince him otherwise.

    ¡°I think that its strange that you would invite your rival¡¯s sibling to a private meeting, no matter what your history is with Pippen. Not that I think your apology isn¡¯t genuine, but the offer¡ª bodyguards¡ª it just seems a bit,¡± Hunter tried to think of a way to put it politely.

    ¡°Sketchy,¡± Jason said, saying what Hunter wouldn¡¯t. When Hunter didn¡¯t immediately correct him, Jason laughed.

    ¡°I can understand why you¡¯d think that. But it¡¯s not like I''m not getting anything out of the deal. The fact that you''re an Oberon, and Clark¡¯s recommendation, are both sufficient reasons for me to be interested in establishing a business relationship with you. You¡¯ve got the potential to be a future leader, after all. In fact, as an Oberon, I''m sure that in your case it¡¯s more than just potential. Am I wrong?¡±

    Hunter shrugged. He still didn¡¯t really understand what his role would be at Oberon Enterprises. He had ideas, a feeling of freedom, but nothing would really take shape until after his time at Barnum was over. Either he achieved Excellence and was headed to further his education in preparation to leave Sanctuary behind him, or he would take on a full-time research and development role, so to speak.

    ¡°Let¡¯s say you¡¯re not,¡± Hunter said.

    ¡°Then I would say that a social network is a type of currency, and that I am not suffering a loss by offering you my services for free,¡± Jason explained, ¡°Of course, it would be on the condition that you remain out of this business between Aera and I. It¡¯s an apology, a treatise of peace, and a good business deal, all in one.¡±

    What Jason said made a lot of sense, and all of the nerves that Hunter had felt since the conversation started had mostly melted away. He found himself liking Jason Chan, he seemed honest, despite the kind of business he was involved in. The word that seemed to stand out to Hunter was honor. Jason seemed honorable, the same way Trey seemed to be. Smart, focused, and humble.

    Still, accepting the offer outright might risk invoking Aera''s ire. He''d been enjoying the budding warmth that seemed to be growing between them. Not a feeling of deep friendship, but the ice had been thawing. He liked the idea of the both of them becoming actual friends, rather than associates who merely tolerated each other.

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    "I''ll think about it," Hunter said.

    ¡°That¡¯s all I ask,¡± Jason said, standing with Hunter and leading him out the door. But before they left, Jason seemed to be struck by a thought.

    ¡°There is one more thing, I have other business partners. People who aren¡¯t as¡­ restrained as I am. Aera¡¯s actions have hit their businesses as much, if not more, than they¡¯ve hit mine. I¡¯ve talked to everyone, and told them that there would be consequences for involving you in any scheme to punish Aera, but I can¡¯t control their every move.¡±

    Hunter was starting to resent Aera¡¯s stubborn determination. He¡¯d known that she was willing to fight for her pride, but he couldn¡¯t help but feel like she¡¯d taken it too far. At least she was thinking ahead when she gave him the taser, and he hoped that she¡¯d prepared some defense for herself as well. Maybe she¡¯d agree to wear some of his new armor. He also had an idea about adding some interesting force-field attachments to the armor, inspired by his handiwork back at the museum.

    He thanked Jason for the warning, who nodded as if it was merely a polite courtesy. They both emerged from behind the bar and rejoined the rest of the group. Hunter checked the time and realized he would need to leave in order to get ready for his tutoring session with Aera.

    Clark told him that they usually meet up at different places around campus about once or twice a month, and he¡¯d let him know when the next one was planned. Hunter left, feeling uncertain about his meeting with Jason. But his personal network just expanded to include some people who Hunter admired, and like Jason had said, their potential influence could prove to be invaluable in the future. Hunter considered the group, and whether he felt like he belonged there or not. He¡¯d never envisioned himself to be a leader. A pioneer, sure. Or a pathfinder. Did that qualify him as a member of the Society of Future Leaders?

    He wondered if he¡¯d get some sort of ring if he ever decided to join. Or maybe a badge.

    But those connections felt insignificant in light of what Jason had revealed to him about what simmering beneath the campus¡¯s surface. The weak attempt to improve his own mood was like a wave crashing against the side of a high cliff. It seemed that Aera had upset a lot of people, people who could prove to be very dangerous.

    What if one of Jason''s business partners decided that they needed to use him to send Aera a message?

    What if Aera had bitten off more than she could chew?

    Hunter hurried home, watching every alley that he passed. He would need to talk to Aera about his conversation.

    It was time that she came clean and told him about everything that was going on.

    Hunter felt some relief as he walked through the lobby of the apartment building. It was a quiet evening. He took the elevator up to his floor, and finally felt himself calming down.

    As he neared his apartment, his heart froze. The door to his apartment was wide open, having been kicked in. Hunter wished he¡¯d remembered to bring his taser with him as he slowly walked towards the entryway, trying not to make a sound. He stopped just outside, and listening for any signs that someone was in there.

    He couldn¡¯t hear anything.

    He stepped into the suite and felt the all the hair on his body rise. The small kitchen had been torn apart, drawers thrown to the ground, cutlery everywhere. His coffee press was broken, the microwave was smashed and in pieces. There appeared to be no reason for the destruction¡ª just violence for the sake of it.

    The ruin continued into his living room. His table had been broken in half, and the small television was on its side, the glass screen having shattered into pieces over the floor. The journal with his focus results had been torn, pieces of paper littering the floor. His heart skipped a beat, and he rushed into the closet of his room. His clothes had been thrown throughout the room, and some seemed to be missing entirely, no doubt taken by whoever had done this.

    He felt a surge of relief as he spotted his fathers suitcase behind the small boxes he¡¯d used to hide it.

    Hunter saw a folded piece of paper on his bed. His hand shook as he reached for it, and opened it.

    You¡¯ve fucked with the wrong people, Oberon.

    Hunter swore.

    He was once again being punished for something he¡¯d had no business in¡ª again, baring the Oberon name felt like a curse.

    Of course, his cell phone had been trashed with the rest of his belongings. Oddly enough, the bed appeared completely undisturbed. It had been left the same as it was when he¡¯d left the apartment this morning.

    Hunter was glad he hadn¡¯t been here when this happened. He searched his apartment and couldn¡¯t find the taser.

    Frustration at the invasion of his sanctuary was to understate how he felt. He pushed back the tears as best he could. His chest burned, and he resisted the urge to punch the wall.

    It wouldn¡¯t help.

    He stifled back the sob which threatened to erupt from his throat.

    For the first time in weeks, Hunter felt utterly overwhelmed. He had no idea how to clean up this mess, he couldn¡¯t call anyone, he didn¡¯t know who to trust except for Aera¡ª and he was completely unwilling to talk to her.

    She should have been more careful. She shouldn¡¯t have antagonized these people, whoever they were.

    But how could he avoid talking to her? She¡¯d find out about this even if he didn¡¯t say anything¡ª but what would she do if he told her about it now? Wouldn¡¯t she just respond in kind, making another example out of someone, like Jason had said she¡¯d done with Pippen?

    She would just make things worse.

    Hunter could not rely on Aera. He needed to take more steps to keep himself safe. This is exactly what Jason had talked about, and he hadn¡¯t realized that the potential danger that he¡¯d been warned about was so imminent.

    Hunter left his apartment, and took the elevator to the lobby. There was a phone down there that he could use. He took the card out of his pocket, and dialed Jasons number. It rang for a while, and Hunter wasn¡¯t sure if Jason would pick up, but eventually he did.

    The line clicked open.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got Chan.¡±

    <hr>

    ¡°I see,¡± Jason said into his phone, trying not to let the excitement overwhelm his voice. His chair swiveled around in a slow circle in the center of his office. Not fast enough to make him dizzy, but enough to keep his mind occupied from the tedium of having to pretend to be a good person.

    The Society of Future Leaders had adjourned shortly after Hunter left. Jason had been strategic in having the meeting be held at one of his bars. He wanted the space and privacy to execute this little plan he¡¯d been thinking about for a week.

    Clark had been eager to inform the Society about his newest friend, and Jason hadn¡¯t expected the opening. But with Jason¡¯s blessing, Clark happily gave Hunter the invitation.

    It was the perfect opportunity to finally sound Hunter out for himself. Was he a lion, or a kitten? How much had Aera told him about her arch rival?

    Was Hunter Koar a prey animal for Jason to use as he wished, or would a finer touch be needed?

    Their meeting had proven to be very enlightening, and surprisingly convenient. Everything seemed to be working in Jason¡¯s favor; Hunters naivety, Tilda Burner¡¯s desperation, Aera¡¯s stubborn pride she no doubt inherited from her father.

    The mewling Oberon had been a much easier target than he¡¯d anticipated. Surely a mind so focused and prone to suspicion would have been harder to sway. But Jason had calculated correctly.

    Hunter was conflicted as any other animal. He¡¯d been looking for an excuse to mistrust people, and yet desperately desired to place his trust somewhere. Jason was all too happy to give him both. The Faultline was already there, and if Jason wanted to start to break the new Oberon unit apart, he just needed a sufficiently powerful wedge to open the crack a bit further.

    ¡°I hadn¡¯t expected my associates to retaliate so quickly, either. This is concerning. I¡¯ll make some discrete investigations, but I can only think of a couple of people who would be so brazen.¡±

    "Thanks, man," Hunter said, and the distress in his voice was still evident though he appeared to think he was able to hide it.

    ¡°Have you told your sister, yet?¡± Jason asked, optimistic about the answer.

    ¡°Not yet¡ª i¡¯m not sure she¡¯d take it well.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Jason said, his pleasure evident as a breath of relief, ¡°I think that¡¯s wise. She¡¯ll be more open to hearing about it if you present it to her along with the culprit, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah that sounds like it would help settle her nerves.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear that you agree Hunter. Now, I wouldn¡¯t be comfortable with letting you remain unprotected over the next little while. I¡¯ll have a couple of guys sent over to watch your place. I¡¯ll call Clark, he¡¯ll probably be willing to let you crash at his dorm for a bit. His roommate is away for a little while from what I understand, so there¡¯s a free bed,¡± Jason said.

    ¡°I owe you one," Hunter said, the relief in his voice was starting to become more evident. Jason smiled.

    ¡°Not at all, consider this an extension of my apology. I¡¯ll figure out who was behind this, and I won¡¯t rest until I do. You have my word,¡± Jason said, ¡°Oh, and don¡¯t worry about getting a new phone. I¡¯ll have one brought to you soon.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to do that¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªI know, but I want to. It would be tiresome to relay any news through Clark, right?¡±

    Hunter sighed.

    ¡°Yeah, I guess I can see that. Thanks again. I¡¯ve got a meeting with Aera soon, so I''ve got to go.¡±

    ¡°Alright, Hunter. Remember what we talked about. The less she knows right now, the better,¡± Jason warned.

    Hunter agreed, and hung up, probably feeling much more safe and content to rely on his new, trustworthy friend, Jason Fuckin'' Chan.

    He laughed. It was a deep, genuine release from his gut. Hunter was a naive child¡ª he had no idea the danger he was in. He was utterly unprepared for the viper''s nest he''d haplessly wandered into.

    Beside Jason was a briefcase containing a certain construct prototype and its network schematics. He patted it, wondering what he¡¯d done to deserve such a wave of fortune. Tilda Burner had been all too willing to hand it over to help pay off her debt. She¡¯d begged him to take it, saying it could be worth millions of credits. He¡¯d called his mother to see if she¡¯d be willing to accept the offer in exchange for Burner¡¯s family to be let off the hook. His mother accepted, on the condition that they would only release Tilda¡¯s family from bondage once the aftermath of the coming chaos had died down.

    With a promise of future freedom in exchange for betraying her friend, Jason had successfully taken candy from a baby.

    Please don''t tell Hunter, she''d whispered, barely able to handle her inner conflict. Delicious.

    At this point, he was just playing with them.

    He had his suspicions that Aera was starting to suspect that he was much more ambitious, and dangerous, than he let on. His family had informed him that Oberon¡¯s intelligence people had been making inquiries into the Visgolds and the Locke¡¯s, and had discovered the Chan family¡¯s ascent through the social strata. Yet, the Oberon¡¯s appeared to have a glaring weakness. None of them seemed to communicate with each other when it counted. It was his own family¡¯s greatest strength, and surely a Council Seat would have figured that out a while ago. The whole ship needs to work together-- everyone needed to row in the same direction.

    There weren¡¯t many Oberon¡¯s, and each of them were just as stubborn as the last. Hunter was no exception, even though he lacked the connection to his new family by blood. If Aera had been more forthcoming with Hunter, then they¡¯d have probably been able to avoid this whole situation in the first place. Really, its their own fault.

    He dialed Clark¡¯s number.

    ¡°Our friend Hunter is in trouble and needs a safe place to rest for a few days. If I recall correctly, your roommate is out of town for the near future?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, if Hunter needs a bed i¡¯ve got no problem with him staying here for a bit.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s wonderful to hear. I admire that about you Clark, always willing to help a friend in need,¡± Jason said.

    ¡°Hey, the feeling is mutual!¡±

    ¡°Of course, oh, and I¡¯ll be sending a few people with him. They¡¯ll be hanging around your apartment for a few days but you won¡¯t need to let them inside or anything. They¡¯re just their to scare off anyone with ill intent. Is that alright?¡±

    ¡°I feel safer already!¡± Clark said, and Jason felt eternally grateful for the sheep¡¯s innocent little mind.

    ¡°Good. Thanks again, Clark.¡±

    ¡°No problem, i¡¯ll get the room ready,¡± Clark said, and Jason hung up.

    It was at times like this that Jason wished he were a poet. He lit the extinguished joint he¡¯d been smoking just prior to Hunters call.

    Sometimes he wondered if there really was a god, or some divine force which drove the movements of the world. It was a times like these where everything seemed to go perfectly, more perfectly than he could anticipate. He had not only found a weak spot in the Oberon¡¯s armor, but had managed to open it even wider. He¡¯d need to call his mother, she¡¯d be pleased with the work he¡¯d done.

    Perhaps this was the opening they¡¯d been looking for. Maybe the timeline could be accelerated.

    Jason almost shuddered in anticipation. He wouldn¡¯t need to wait until the end of the year to see Aera begging in him on her knees to spare her and her family.

    Victory was so close he could taste it.

 Chapter 46

    ¡°Hunter, we need to talk,¡± Aera said as soon as he sat down at the table. He¡¯d seen her stewing in the corner of the cafeteria, ¡°Why weren¡¯t you answering your phone?¡±

    Hunter almost told her the truth. It was so close to slipping out of his mouth that he cleared his throat, giving himself time to think of an excuse.

    ¡°I lost it,¡± he said, ¡°I know, its dumb. I¡¯ve been walking around campus all day looking for it but unfortunately, no luck.¡±

    ¡°Did you lose it before, or after your meeting with Jason Chan?¡± Aera asked. Hunter got a glimpse of the old Aera, the one he¡¯d known from the beginning.

    She''d been watching him? The thought made him feel a bit claustrophobic.

    ¡°I know how it looks, but you need to believe me when I say that I had no idea who Jason was before that meeting. My friend Clark invited me, he said he had a few friends he wanted me to meet. They have a group, called the Society for Future Leaders,¡± Hunter said, and Aera snorted.

    ¡°I bet every single one of those Future Leaders were there at Jason¡¯s order. I¡¯ll look into them, but don¡¯t be surprised if I find they¡¯re all on his payroll.¡±

    Hunter was going to disagree, but he remembered how the group had behaved around Jason. After the meeting, he¡¯d chalked it up to them having a lot of respect for the kind of man that Jason is, and the weight that someone who appears to have dangerous, high level connections seems to carry when they speak.

    ¡°Even if they were, Jason talked to me. He told me about the drama between you two¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªDrama? Is that what he called it?¡± Aera asked, her tone genuinely curious, yet something about the way she¡¯d said it felt like he needed to speak very carefully. He didn¡¯t want her to start making trouble again.

    ¡°I might be paraphrasing a bit. But, Aera, he said that he doesn¡¯t want to fight with you, but that he will defend himself if he has to. He even told me that he had no intention of dragging me into your fight¡ª not that it stopped my apartment from being¡ª¡± Hunter shut himself up as soon as he realized what he was saying.

    Aera had her full attention on him.

    ¡°Finish what you were just about to say,¡± she said.

    He opened his mouth to say something, but his brain was stalling. Nothing came out.

    ¡°Hunter, what happened?¡±

    He¡¯d fucked up. He was tired, his mind still still felt like it was in chaos, and he had barely been paying attention to what he was saying. Aera wouldn¡¯t let it go and Hunter felt like maybe it was best to come clean after all. Maybe Aera would listen to reason.

    ¡°Before I do, you need to listen to me,¡± Hunter said, and Aera slapped the table and pointed a finger at him.

    ¡°You need to listen to me. Jason isn¡¯t just dangerous, he¡¯s clever. Lying is as natural to him as walking and breathing is to us. You don''t know what I know Hunter, you haven¡¯t been dealing with what I have for the last few months.¡±

    ¡°And whose fault is that?¡± he asked, unable to stop himself, ¡°and don¡¯t say you¡¯re just trying to keep me safe. How has that worked out for me so far? While I was at the meeting with Jason, someone kicked down the door to my apartment and trashed the place,¡± he said, reaching into his pocket and taking out the note he found on his bed.

    Aera read the note and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before reading the note again. She met Hunters gaze, and she seemed concerned.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Hunter,¡± she said, ¡°you¡¯re right. But I have been trying to keep you safe, but only because you¡¯re not ready to the kind of game that¡¯s being played here.¡±

    She held her hand up, and Hunter breathed out the words that were on his tongue.

    ¡°I know you have a lot to say, but I need to know more about what¡¯s going on. What else did Jason tell you? I need to know everything. I promise I won¡¯t act on what I hear without consulting you first, alright?¡±

    Hunter felt the wind leave his sails.

    This is what he¡¯d wanted, right? To be let in on the process? To have a say in how their actions would affect him in the future?

    ¡°Okay,¡± Hunter said, ¡°then I¡¯ll start by saying that I called Jason after I saw what happened to my apartment.¡±

    Hunter filled her in on the conversation that he had with Jason Chan, from the meeting that Clark had invited him to, to the offer of protection, and then finally to helping Hunter come up with a plan.

    ¡°So he pinned it on Pippen?¡± Aera mused, ¡°so much for a life-long friendship. I think I know what¡¯s going on, but there¡¯s a few pieces that aren¡¯t making sense to me. I need to make some calls, but first we need to sort out what¡¯s going on between you and me. I know you want to trust Jason, and you skeptical about trusting me. I get that, but if I can prove to you that you shouldn¡¯t trust Jason, will you agree to cut off all contact with him?¡±

    Hunter didn¡¯t have a problem with that, but he had one condition.

    ¡°Only if you agree to let me know everything else that¡¯s been going on. I feel like mi in the dark here, Aera.¡±

    She sighed.

    ¡°Before today, I wouldn¡¯t have agreed. But I guess you deserve some clarity. Besides, I have a very bad feeling about all of this. Jason has been acting incredibly brazenly from the start, and he shouldn¡¯t be. I need to call dad, he might know something that we don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Why would Trey care about what¡¯s going on here at Barnum?¡± Hunter asked, then he realized the answer was obvious. He¡¯d been in the hospital before the first day of classes was over, so of course Trey would be concerned.

    His investment was at risk.

    Maybe Hunter wasn¡¯t being fair to the man, and maybe he was genuinely concerned for Hunter safety, but if he was honest with himself, he didn¡¯t really know Trey very well, did he?

    Neither did he know Aera as much as he¡¯d like to. Although their relationship may have warmed up slightly over the last few months, a bit of honest self reflection revealed that there wasn''t much she''d done to earn his unconditional trust.

    ¡°After the year started off the way it did, he decided to keep a closer eye on things¡ª but even if that hadn¡¯t happened, I would still need to keep him in the loop. He wanted me to keep you updated as well, but I assured him I could take care of things. And, any other year, I probably would have. But things seem different this year, and I have no idea why,¡± she said, ¡°It¡¯s almost like the Chan¡¯s don¡¯t fear retaliation¡ª and from what I¡¯ve come to understand, the Chan¡¯s aren¡¯t stupid.¡±

    It was almost like she was connecting the dots as she spoke them. Her eyes widened as the implications dawned on her. Hunter still felt like he was totally lost.

    ¡°The Chan¡¯s, you¡¯re referring to Jason¡¯s family.¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    ¡°Small time players, but I suspect they¡¯ve been making a play to cozy up to the Visgolds given Jason''s relationship to Pippen¡ª which makes his betrayal of Pippen somewhat unexpected, yet if i¡¯m right about what¡¯s going on behind the scenes, then maybe it isn¡¯t so unexpected after all.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve lost me,¡± Hunter said, ¡°Why are you so sure that Jason betrayed Pippen, and how is that connected to the Visgolds and the Chan¡¯s? It sounds like you¡¯re grasping at straws, Aera. You do see that, right?¡±

    ¡°I know, I understand how this must all sound to you,¡± Aera said, pinching the bridge of her nose and leaning back. She stared at the ceiling for a second, and then nodded to herself.

    ¡°Let¡¯s call dad now. I¡¯m just about due to update him about what¡¯s been going on here, anyways. I need time to gather some evidence to prove to you that Jason is untrustworthy, but I¡¯m sure that dad can provide you with more context. He might be able to help me understand what¡¯s been going on as well.¡±

    Hunter checked his wristwatch. They had an hour left in their session, then he¡¯d have to go meet up with Clark. He considered what Jason had asked him, about not revealing anything, and realized that he didn¡¯t regret telling Aera¡ª even if it had been entirely accidental.

    The more he thought about it, the more he wondered if she was right. Why should he trust Jason, more than anyone else?

    He¡¯d just met the guy. Why was he so tempted to want to trust him? He suddenly felt gross, like someone had wormed their way into his mind and shifted his perceptions without him knowing.

    If Aera was right, then Jason really was dangerous, more than he let on. And if it turned out that she wasn¡¯t right, then maybe he could actually convince her to back off a bit. It all depended on what Trey knew.

    ¡°Alright. Let¡¯s call Trey,¡± he said. One way or another, it was time for some clarity.

    <hr>

    Trey was in his office in the capital. He¡¯d been finding it hard to sleep lately¡ª there was too much work to be done. A folder containing the latest news on Operation: Exodus lay sprawled on top of his desk. The necessity for the project was growing more apparent by the day. The rest of the Council was starting to distance themselves from him. Not overtly, but in subtle ways which were starting to slowly escalate. They were going to force him to take a stance against them.

    He wanted to be ready for that, when the time came. They would have some accusation, he would deny it, they would double down, and so would he.

    Then the gloves would come off. He worried about the kids. He had faith in his daughters ability to handle things, but the timing might prove to be a bit more than she could handle. The more he discovered about the Chan¡¯s, the less he liked. The Locke¡¯s were preparing to wash their hands of the Visgolds entirely. Normally, that wouldn¡¯t be any of his business, but the Chan¡¯s ambition, and the interference of their son at the academy had made him wonder if his initial assessment had been accurate. He and his people had come to a few unsettling conclusions, one of which was driving the progress of Operation: Exodus like nothing else.

    Self preservation. Not just of his family, but as much of the company as he could take with him.

    Idra opened the door to his office, carrying his phone. It was odd seeing the small device. It almost felt wrong, he was used to the awkward, bulky design they¡¯d been using for years.

    But progress sometimes meant being uncomfortable for a while. He would adapt to the pace.

    ¡°It¡¯s Aera, and Hunter.¡±

    ¡°This late? I hope everything¡¯s okay,¡± he said, taking the phone and putting it on speaker. He gestured for Idra to leave.

    ¡°Hey, kids.¡±

    ¡°Hey, dad,¡± Aera said, ¡°we¡¯ve got some trouble.¡±

    ¡°Straight to business eh? Not going to ask me how my day¡¯s gone?¡±

    She sighed, and Trey laughed.

    ¡°I¡¯m just kidding. What¡¯s going on over there?¡±

    Aera explained, and Hunter filled in where he could. Aera told him about her theory, about something big going on behind the scenes that is making the Chan¡¯s feel more boldly about how they act towards the Oberons. Trey rubbed his face.

    He needed a cigar, but he didn¡¯t have any on him. Instead, he pressed a button on the side of his desk, the one that would let Idra know that he wanted a coffee. He always meant to have a little station in this office devoted to it like he did at home, but alas, business usually distracted him far too much to let that be a priority.

    ¡°You there, dad?¡± Aera asked.

    ¡°Sure, yeah, hun. Just ordered some coffee,¡± Trey said, ¡°And yeah, I¡¯ve got a thing or two to say about the situation. First off, Hunter, no one can blame you for how you reacted. You were looking out for Aera by not wanting her to overreact when we heard about your apartment. Now, before we go any further, how do you feel? Are you both safe? Do you want to come home?¡±

    He expected Hunter to say yes.

    There was a pause. The coffee arrived, he sipped it.

    Perfect. He nodded at Idra in thanks, and she left.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Hunter said, ¡°I¡¯d feel safer if I knew what was going on.¡±

    Trey raised an eyebrow.

    Yeah, we¡¯ll see, he thought.

    ¡°So the Visgolds are out," he said, "the Locke family has been shutting off the Visgolds access to their resources over the last year. Can you guess who the majority of those resources have been shunted off towards?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m guessing the Chan¡¯s,¡± Aera said, her tone deadpan.

    ¡°Bingo. Interesting, eh?¡±

    ¡°That is interesting,¡± Aera said, ¡°but it wouldn¡¯t explain why Jason is acting the way he is. A family subordinate to a council seat might have more protection, but not enough to hide them from the kind of resources we could move agains them for going too far, and so far it seems like Jason¡¯s been only too willing to go that extra mile.¡±

    ¡°If he¡¯s acting the way you think he is,¡± Hunter interjected.

    Trey tsked. The kid can¡¯t be blamed for his naivety, but even Trey found it a bit annoying.

    ¡°The Chan¡¯s are acting like a well oiled machine. They¡¯re all moving to the same beat, which appears to be set by their matriarch, Jason¡¯s mother,¡± he said. ¡°And that¡¯s not all. There¡¯s a lot I haven¡¯t been telling you about what¡¯s going on behind the scenes, but the news isn¡¯t good.¡±

    He questioned the temptation to tell them everything. Then he thought better of it. He would tell them enough to keep them glued together. The Oberon¡¯s could not be allowed to break apart under the influence of the Chan¡¯s. Trey needed them to watch each others backs, now more than ever. He would attempt to dissuade his colleagues one more time. If they didn¡¯t play ball, he would pull the kids out of the Academy, and they would commence the Exodus.

    ¡°I have good evidence to prove that the Chan¡¯s are making a play for a Council Seat. There are multiple other Seat¡¯s backing them. That¡¯s all I can tell you for now. I can let the severity of their actions speak to their confidence in their bid for ascendancy working out in their favor.¡±

    Aera swore.

    ¡°I taught you better than that,¡± Trey said.

    ¡°Sorry, dad. But what you''re saying would explain a lot¡ª especially the influence that the Chan¡¯s seem to have over the campus. Half of the campus¡¯s businesses belong to them. I¡¯m sure they have most of the faculty in their pocket, if not all of them.¡±

    Trey chuckled. A certain bearded academic came to mind.

    ¡°Not all of them,¡± Trey said, ¡°How are you finding your history lessons, Hunter?¡±

    ¡°Oh, uh,¡± Hunter fumbled, seeming to be caught off guard by the upbrupt change of subject, ¡°good. Professor Jackson is awesome.¡±

    ¡°Did he tell you about his theory? About the Asutnahem?¡±

    ¡°That they knew about the edge of the world? Yeah.¡±

    ¡°It gets more exciting, I assure you, but you¡¯ll have to wait so that I can show you what I mean in person. Listen, both of you. The moment things seem like they¡¯re about to escalate again, you call me, and I¡¯ll send a team to get you out of there,¡± Trey said.

    ¡°It¡¯s that bad?¡± Aera said, and Trey¡¯s heart ached when he heard the worry in her voice.

    ¡°It¡¯s not good, Aera. But we¡¯ve been through worse,¡± he said, not certain about the truth in his words.

    ¡°Right,¡± she said. Aera had faith in him, and he wouldn¡¯t betray that faith. Part of him was screaming at himself, telling him to get them both out of that spiders web at that very moment.

    But he had to play his cards right. This was a game of chicken. The moment he started to act, the Council would pounce. They would be getting resources in place, in case of a war. He would appear to be cautiously optimistic about convincing them otherwise, and he would make a genuine effort to do so.

    If there didn¡¯t need to be any bloodshed, he would try his best to avoid it.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be needing a new phone, Hunter. Expect one tomorrow. Are you still planning to stay at your friend¡¯s place?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Hunter said, ¡°i¡¯m not sure about that anymore.¡±

    ¡°Aera, are you okay with Hunter sleeping on your couch for a bit?¡±

    ¡°Yep,¡± she said, but her reply was way too quick to be genuine. He smiled.

    ¡°Thanks, Aera. And Aera, I would recommend ceasing your business with the Chan child. From this point on, we can¡¯t count on them to honor the rules.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± she said, her tone the same as before. He frowned.

    ¡°Aera¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªdon¡¯t worry about me, dad. We¡¯ll be alright.¡±

    ¡°Promise me.¡±

    She paused, and then sighed.

    ¡°I promise to cut off my business with Jason.¡±

    ¡°Good. Thank you. Is there anything else?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± she said, ¡°thanks for letting us know about what¡¯s going on in the world.¡±

    ¡°Of course, sweetheart. Hunter, be careful, alright? I¡¯ve already got a team stationed near the campus. You say the word, and you''ll be out of there. But let that be a last resort. Solving your problems for yourself will make you a stronger man. You need to be able to trust your own strength. Understand?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Hunter said.

    ¡°Then I wish you both a good night.¡±

    They said their farewells, and he waited for them to hang up.

    He sipped his coffee.

    He definitely wasn¡¯t going to be getting any sleep that night. He considered the plans for Project Exodus once more, and then decided to make a call.

    The company, and the family, might need the full services of a certain professor if they were going to proceed with the project.

    They would need all the guidance they could get, if they were going to not only survive, but thrive in the world that was to come.

 Chapter 47

    The next few days passed peacefully. Hunter went about his business as usual, only without seeing much of Tilda. He¡¯d given her a call, and she¡¯d said that something had come up with her family, and that she¡¯d be away from the school for a while. If someone were to ask him how he felt about not having to spend time with Tilda, he¡¯d say that at the moment, it was for the best. He didn¡¯t feel like his life was stable, and that there was something like a guillotine hanging above his head wherever he went.

    Campus security had found out about his apartment, and had reported that the security footage from the lobby had seemed to be mysteriously absent. Not doctored, but gone. Someone had taken it, so they had no way of finding out who was responsible. There were no witnesses coming forward, either.

    Aera said she¡¯d try and get another taser for him, but he¡¯d refused. Hunter was ready to take his safety into his own hands. After his classes, he would spend as much time in the workshop as possible, even outright buying other people¡¯s sessions. He¡¯d spent 500 credits a day over the last few days for some extra time, and so far it had paid off.

    Hunter was finishing up his final project for the day. While he¡¯d been working with Tilda, and simplifying what he knew about forcefields, a few key ideas he¡¯d been thinking about separately snapped together.

    The first idea had been about effectively creating a force-field that expanded rapidly, and then shut off. Instead of using it as a wall of defense, what if he actually engineered a force explosion, like what had happened at the museum? He stretched his creativity to the max to find a solution, and he¡¯d managed to come up with something that worked. It would need a little bit of battery assistance as the AR requirement was about 15 points higher than he could currently supply, but at his current rate of growth, that would only take about a week.

    At which point, he would just remove the battery and use it manually.

    What¡¯s better was that he¡¯d managed to interface it with the wireless transmitter for the network prototype he¡¯d kept. With a bit of extra power, he could supply both the enhanced armor plates and the what Hunter was calling his F.P.E.

    He nodded with satisfaction at the device he was holding. It had a handle, which had two rods which would arc upwards from both the handles ends, connecting it to an emission plate. It was the most compact device Hunter had ever designed, and he¡¯d made four of them.

    One set for him, and one for Aera. Hers were even more compact than his, since she wouldn¡¯t need any batteries.

    Hunter¡¯s next plan was to make a small suit of armor based on the principles that he and Tilda had worked on, but he was worried about the timeline. He might not be able to finish it before things started to escalate, and he¡¯d rather have a surefire way to defend himself, which meant that the F.P.E¡¯s took priority. In place of a suit of armor, his next project would be the second-best idea. A large shield which utilized the same principle as the F.P.E¡¯s, as well as the forcefield-enhancement and reinforcing design that he and Tilda had designed. It would be the best of both, combined into one.

    It was 6pm when he was done at the Artisan department, and the sun had already set. Hunter¡¯s strength had continued to increase over the last few days, and so had his appetite. He considered grabbing a bite to eat, but decided that given all that he¡¯d learned recently, he¡¯d probably just go home. The Artisan Department was in what he considered a safer part of the campus. It was a relatively straight walk back to the apartment building, as it was down a main street which was well lit and busy at this time of the evening.

    But he still didn¡¯t want to take any chances. Even with his new weapons, he would rather be home safe then forced to test his odds against another group of attackers.

    All thoughts about going home in peace fizzled away as soon as he saw Jason Chan come around the corner at an intersection with a group of men. They appeared to be deep in discussion as they walked, and Jason''s¡¯ eyes lit up as he saw Hunter.

    ¡°Hunter! What a surprise. Are you hungry? My friends and I were about to grab some dinner, if you¡¯d like to join us.¡±

    After calling Clark and telling him about the arrangement he¡¯d made with Aera, Hunter was worried about what Jason¡¯s reaction would be. But he¡¯d never called to find out. As far as Hunter was concerned, the less he had to deal with Jason, the more he was assured he wouldn¡¯t get caught up in the crossfire between him and Aera. Although, now that he was more aware about what was going on behind the scenes, he wasn¡¯t sure that he could say that he wasn¡¯t involved. He was implicated on the side that opposed the Chan¡¯s, whether he wanted to be or not.

    ¡°Sorry, Jason. I¡¯ve got some homework, so I should be getting home,¡± Hunter said, hoping that Jason would leave him alone.

    Jason nodded.

    ¡°In that case, why don¡¯t I walk you to the apartment?¡± He asked. Hunter felt his hands start to sweat. He reached into his pocket where one of his F.P.E¡¯s was waiting to be used.

    ¡°That¡¯s okay, I wouldn¡¯t want to keep you all from your dinners,¡± Hunter said.

    Jason¡¯s smile appeared strained for a second, and Hunter felt like he saw something in Jason¡¯s eyes which he hadn¡¯t noticed before. A blankness, a cold disregard of everything he observed.

    Was he imagining it, based on what he¡¯d heard from Trey and Aera? But as soon as he saw it, Jason¡¯s friendly smile was back in full, his eyes full of cheer.

    ¡°It¡¯s no imposition. We¡¯ll keep you safe until you get to your apartment,¡± Jason said, and then tsk¡¯d, softly patting himself on the forehead, ¡°I mean your sisters apartment, my apologies.¡±

    Before Hunter could reject any further, Jason was already walking ahead, and his friends were waiting behind, giving Hunter option but to follow Jason.

    He gulped.

    Jason slowed his pace until Hunter caught up. He breathed a deep breath of cold air, and made a satisfied sound as he exhaled.

    ¡°I love this time of year,¡± Jason said, ¡°don¡¯t you? I feel like the chill brings a stillness to the air. It feels a bit like being home.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re from up north?¡± Hunter asked. Weren¡¯t the Chan¡¯s from the LockeMark domain? That whole region was tropical, from what he understood.

    ¡°No, no. More like, empty of warmth. Cold in another way,¡± Jason said, quietly. He was silent for a while, and Hunter took the time to try and covertly dry his palms.

    ¡°Anyways, the reason why I''m so insistent on speaking with you today, Hunter, is that I need to know what you told your sister about me.¡±

    Hunter¡¯s anxiety returned, and he didn¡¯t hide from it. He didn¡¯t want to end up like he¡¯d been when he first started practicing the Internal Arts. Instead, he let himself feel what he was feeling, and reminded himself of the stakes. Jason Chan was dangerous¡ª no matter his intentions towards Hunter. And Hunter was no longer the helpless weakling he¡¯d been at the beginning of the school year.

    He and Aera had discussed what to say if Jason ever confronted him. He racked his mind, trying to remember the specifics.

    The primary goal was to keep Jason in the dark about what they had planned, which was easy, because Hunter didn¡¯t think that they had a plan. Aera had promised him that she wouldn¡¯t act without consulting him first.

    ¡°She found out that we met during the Society meeting. I told her what you told me, and I tried to change her mind. She told me to be more careful in the future, and that I couldn¡¯t trust you,¡± Hunter said, summoning the courage to glance at Jason, to see how he reacted.

    He didn¡¯t react. In fact, his complete lack of reaction felt more alarming than anything he could have imagined.

    There was no disappointment, no anger, there was nothing.

    ¡°I see,¡± Jason said, and the silence between them stretched for a solid minute.

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure you had your reasons. I¡¯ll be seeing you Hunter, stay safe,¡± Jason said, walking back the way they came. His friends, or Hunter suspected they were guards, made way for Jason to pass through and then followed him.

    Hunter was left alone, feeling both relieved, and suspicious. Yet he had nothing to do with the nervous energy, no thoughts to attach to the emotion, so he did his best to let it go. Hunter felt the guillotine above him shudder. He felt that the string which held it aloft might snap at any moment.

    Fortunately, he made it home safely. He wanted to tell Aera about his strange meeting with Jason but she wasn¡¯t home. She had left him a note on the kitchen counter.

    Hunter, got some business to attend to. Gonna end things with Jason tonight, and some loose ends to cut off. Don¡¯t worry, I should be safe.

    Despite her assurance, Hunter couldn¡¯t help but worry. She was facing Jason alone?

    Was that safe?

    But then, what had Hunter expected? That she¡¯d bring him along? She had no idea what he¡¯d been working on, or about his AR. She knew he was getting stronger, faster, and could train longer, but was that enough for her to know she could rely on him?

    Hunter tried to calm himself down enough to focus, but the focus wouldn¡¯t come. He kept thinking about Aera.

    He wondered if he should be calling Trey.

    When midnight struck, Hunter heard a knock at the door.

    He frowned. Aera wouldn¡¯t knock. Maybe it was one of her friends? He was about to answer it, but then the door suddenly shuddered as something large hit it.

    Hunter froze. It was happening, and it was happening now. He ran back to the living room table, and picked up the F.P.E devices. He started to walk towards the door again. Whoever was on the other side couldn¡¯t be given any time to plan an attack when they saw him, he needed to make the first move.

    He silently thanked Instructor Immanuel for making him spar against Emelia.

    The door shuddered again, and he saw the tip of a boot break through near the door handle. Gripped by a sudden urge, Hunter got closer to the door.

    He suddenly felt that this situation was like the museum all over again. Trapped in a room, with a hallways full of bad guys waiting for him. Except this time, Sly wasn¡¯t here to protect him and save the day.

    And the biggest difference was that Hunter wasn¡¯t helpless. He reached towards the door, pointing the plate¡¯s of the F.P.E¡¯s towards the door, and and thumbed the activation trigger.

    There was no recoil, no light show, and no sound to signal the rapid emergence of and disappearance of the field of force with would have expanded outwards in the blink of an eye. But what it lacked in presence, it made up for in effect.

    The door to the apartment flew off its hinges with the force of a tornado, slamming backwards into a group of people wearing balaclavas. He stepped out into the hallway, assessing the damage. He counted 5 people.

    He hadn¡¯t expected the devices to be that powerful. He¡¯d honestly just hoped to take them by surprise. He considered the devices in his hand, admiring them with a newfound appreciation. He had outdone himself.

    All of a sudden, 5 versus 1 didn¡¯t seem like such terrible odds. Hunter had grown to enjoy fighting. However, he was conscious of his limitations.

    He wasn¡¯t Aera, he wasn¡¯t Emelia, he wasn¡¯t a warrior.

    But he was pissed off, and tired of being scared.

    The group got back to their feet, and watched Hunter wearily. One of them was grabbing at their arm, cursing to themselves. He recognized them. Not by their face, which was covered, but by the pair of boots with the word ¡°CODY¡± written on them.

    Hunter had been looking forward to this day.

    ¡°It¡¯s been a while, Cody. Good to see you,¡± Hunter said, stretching his arms to both sides and triggering the devices again. He wouldn¡¯t get too many more uses out of his devices before he¡¯d be powering them himself, and that could exhaust him pretty rapidly if he wasn¡¯t careful, but he figured he should be able to end this before that became a problem.

    The pulse knocked back the people closest to him on either side, and he took the moment to attack while they were disoriented. The two to his right were the most effected, while the three to his left seemed like they were hyping themselves up to attack him.

    He charged at them.

    The one closest tried running away, but he bumped into the guy behind him, who swore and pushed him back towards Hunter, whose fist connected with his face. As the man dropped to the floor, Hunter followed through pointing his fist at the next attacker and triggering the device again.

    The second guy flew back a few feet, and the third was already running. Someone grabbed Hunter from behind, and he knocked his head back, feeling a crunch as the back of his head met the attackers nose. The attacker swore but didn¡¯t let go. Hunter felt one of his legs kicked out from behind his knee, and he fell. The man didn¡¯t seem prepared for the effect of his own attack, and he appeared to be pulled off balance slightly. Hunter pushed himself back as hard as he could and the attacker stumbled, losing control and letting Hunter go.

    Hunter spun and activated the F.P.E at the man¡¯s legs. He hadn''t centered his aim right, but the edge of the area of effect was all that Hunter needed to do damage to his assailant. He winced as he saw the man¡¯s leg snap back at an unnatural angle, and the man cried out in pain as he somersaulted through the air.

    Hunter had an opportunity to use the device again, but he knew it would be overkill. The guy wouldn¡¯t be walking for a long time.

    ¡®Cody¡¯ was standing again, having watched his friend be tossed around by eldritch forces of nature which Hunter summoned from the constructs on his hand. He stepped backwards as Hunter walked towards him. He held his hands out in front of him.

    ¡°P-Please, I''m sorry, let me go,¡± the man said. Hunter slowed down, but didn¡¯t stop.

    ¡°Is your name actually Cody?¡± Hunter asked. The man tilted his head slightly.

    ¡°N-no. I¡¯m George, Cody¡¯s my brothers name,¡± he said, then he looked down at his boots.

    ¡°Oh,¡± George said, and then he flew backwards as Hunter activated both of his devices simultaneously.

    He wouldn¡¯t laugh at the man¡¯s misfortune, nor would he call him weak. Hunter would not let himself become the kind of person that had attacked him all those months ago.

    But he¡¯d be lying if he said that it didn¡¯t feel good to watch as George was launched through the air, most likely unconscious from the blast. It was payback the abuse which he and his friends had been so eager to inflict on Hunter . George turned into something like a ragdoll as he rolled across the ground. He was still breathing, so Hunter decided not to worry.

    Four groaning men lay sprawled across the top floor of the apartment building. Hunter felt slightly drained, but hardly to the point where he needed a rest.

    He inspected the devices in his hands. They were still in good condition, but he could feel that there were some places where the network was having some trouble. Forcefields were still a bit difficult for him to work with, especially like this. But he was already thinking of ways to improve them.

    He called campus security. They were already aware that he was staying at his sisters place, and the fact that the men were all in balaclavas bode poorly for their innocence in this exchange.

    The security guards asked him questions for a while, and told him to wait while law enforcement was called.

    Hunter couldn¡¯t wait. He couldn¡¯t stop thinking about Aera. There was no way the timing of this attack was a coincidence, and he can only assume how their meeting had gone based on what happened here. He decided that he had to find out what happened.

    He called Clark.

    ¡°Hello?¡±

    ¡°Clark, I need some information.¡±

    ¡°Shit, Hunter. You sound pretty upset. What happened? Are you alright?¡±

    Hunter breathed for a few seconds. As far as he knew, Clark was one of Jason¡¯s guys. He needed to consider his words carefully.

    ¡°I was wondering if anything big is happening on campus today? Not any of the official events, maybe something a bit more under the radar,¡± Hunter asked.

    ¡°Yeah, there¡¯s the weekly club thing¡ª which I''m surprised you haven¡¯t been told about yet. Oh yeah, don¡¯t tell anyone about it, okay?¡±

    Club? He thought.

    ¡°What kind of club?¡± Hunter asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s this gathering that Jason runs. Most of the big names are down there¡ª all the council''s sponsored youths. Your sister has been making a name for herself, they call her the Queen of the ring. Like, the fighting ring.¡±

    Hunter¡¯s eyes widened.

    What the fuck was Aera doing in her spare time?

    Fighting in a club organized by Jason Chan? He shook his head, the dots weren¡¯t connecting. Wasn¡¯t that the last place she would want to be?

    ¡°Any idea where this club is being held?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. You need to be invited but Jason knows you, so I''m sure it won¡¯t be a problem. It doesn¡¯t start for another half hour or so. It¡¯s held underneath the bar where we held the Society meeting. I¡¯ll meet you outside and bring you in,¡± Clark said. Hunter thanked him and hung up.

    His nerves felt like lines of fire flaring through his chest and arms. Hunter needed to confront Jason, and he bet that Jason wouldn¡¯t take too kindly to that. Hunter left the apartment with both sets of F.P.E¡¯s, the two he couldn¡¯t fit in his pants pockets he wore on his hands, tucking his hands into his jacket pocket.

    The bar was busy, with a line out the door. Clark saw him approach and waved him into an alleyway behind the bar. Hunters guard was up.

    He didn¡¯t trust Clark.

    But his paranoia was for naught. Clark led him to a set of stairs leading down to the bar¡¯s basement. Clark nodded at the burly man guarding the entrance.

    ¡°Who¡¯s this?¡± the guard asked.

    ¡°Friend of mine and Jason''s,¡± Clark said.

    ¡°Never seen him before,¡± the guard said, eyeing Hunter skeptically.

    ¡°You want to explain to Jason why his buddy was barred from participating in the festivities?¡± Clark asked, his voice holding a hint of warning. The big guard seemed to pale slightly, opening the door and waving them in.

    ¡°Put in a good word for me,¡± the guard told them as they entered. Clark snorted.

    ¡°That was Jerry. Good guy, most of the time. I guess Jason pays him for being careful, so no hard feelings, right?¡±

    Hunter shrugged, not trusting himself to speak. He felt like he was surrounded by potential threats. Every glance his way was another potential vector of harm.

    He remembered the sight of bodies flying as he unleashed primal forces of nature towards the last attackers who tried to mess with him. It gave him a sense of confidence that he was desperate for. It didn¡¯t calm him much, but it helped him regain his focus.

    He scanned the basement. It was less like a basement, and more like an entire establishment in and of itself, bigger even than the bar and restaurant upstairs.

    The room was tiered. At one end was a spectating area, and surrounding the rest of the top and tier all the way down to the penultimate tier were tables filled with patrons, with food, beer, and all of them shouting in pleasure or disappointment at the fight below.

    The sight filled Hunter with a sense of cold dread. His breath caught in his throat.

    ¡°Holy shit,¡± Clark whispered, turning to Hunter, ¡°I swear, I had no idea¡ª¡±

    Hunter leapt towards the ring, throwing off his jacket.

 Chapter 48

    She should have expected it, in hindsight. In fact, she had suspected it, but she had stubbornly persisted with the belief that although Jason Chan was bold enough to act against Hunter, he would have had more respect for her as a very present danger.

    Aera might be stubborn, but she could admit when she was wrong.

    She ducked a punch, countering with a fist to the man¡¯s gut. He wheezed and keeled over. She patted his back as she moved onto the next idiot.

    7 down, maybe a dozen or so more to go.

    She eyed the one in the back, some strange, plated armor strapped across his chest. He held a baton, and so did the few men who were standing in front of him. They were making this out to be gauntlet. And Aera didn¡¯t like her odds. She was strong, but the first round had been more than she¡¯d expected.

    She could see Jason smiling from the stands, a gleam in his eye. He was enjoying this more than anyone else. How long had he been planning something like this?

    She hadn¡¯t even gotten through the front door of Jason¡¯s office at the bar upstairs when someone had injected her with something. She¡¯d knocked the fucker out, but not before they¡¯d dosed her with enough of whatever it was to knock her out in turn. She¡¯d awoken in the dressing room the fighters used before entering the ring, and had a feeling that she¡¯d be up against something like this.

    The door had been locked for an hour before she heard an announcement. She could barely make out the sound of cheering as Jason Chan¡¯s voice rang through the establishment.

    ¡°..Witness the downfall of the house of Oberon. I present to you, Aera¡ª Queen of the ring!¡±

    The doors to the changing room opened, and she walked down the hallway.

    She wasn¡¯t one to flinch from a challenge. Jason wanted to see her downfall? She would tare the scummy little parasite to shreds before the entire audience. She¡¯d fight her way through the ring, through his guards, through the audience if she had to. She would chase him across campus, and then she would murder the little shit.

    Then she stepped into the ring, and saw what seemed to her small army waiting for her to arrive¡ª and didn¡¯t even have time to calculate how she was going to survive before the start of the fight was announced.

    Two guys rushed her, and she danced through them. Two men, two hits, two lights out for the next few hours. The third faked a punch, then another, and she wondered what the hell his deal was when she was pushed from behind, and then the boot of the guy in front of her met her gut.

    She hadn¡¯t let him get away with that without losing his ability to walk. The guy behind her didn¡¯t fare much better either.

    She glanced again at Jason, and saw that he was distracted by a conversation with a familiar young woman. She cursed. Hunter would not be happy when he heard about what Tilda Burner was getting up to in her spare time.

    She brought her focus back to the fight, dodged another fist, then repositioned when two more guys seemed to materialize on both sides. She was far too distracted, and whatever they¡¯d tranquilized her with must have still been in her system. She was never this sloppy.

    She needed to gain some distance, and come up with something like a plan. She still had barely any idea of what she was up against. Again they charged her and she did her best to keep her distance. She wondered why they weren¡¯t all rushing her at once.

    The answer was obvious, this was a show, and they wanted to tire her out before delivering the final blow. Would it be Jason himself to delivered it? A symbolic gesture from the Chan¡¯s to Trey Oberon?

    Her pulse pounded throughout her body, but she wasn¡¯t afraid. She was mad, and she was hyped. She hadn¡¯t had a good fight for a very long time.

    She decided to go all out. She¡¯d just been forced to have a multi-hour nap. She had some energy to spare.

    She reversed course and charged the three men, dodging to the right and punching the closest one in the kidneys. It took a second for the pain to kick in, but he wouldn¡¯t be a problem for a bit. The next one to approach left his crotch wide open, and she accepted the invitation, kneeing him in the face after he bent over in agony.

    The third stepped back, and Aera chased him down. She raised a fist, and he tripped over himself. She turned back to the the man who she¡¯d hit first, who seemed to be debating the wisdom of continuing to fight her, but he was surrounded by a thousand vectors of scorn. He glanced at Jason, and he looked at Aera regretfully, understanding that he wasn¡¯t going to enjoy what came next, but unable to do anything but accept it.

    It was amusing for her to watch him resolve himself over a split second as he charged her again. She could hear more coming from behind her, and she estimated that they would all meet at approximately the same time. That made the next move obvious. She met the charge of the man before her, and pivoted behind him, pushing him towards one of the newest wave of attackers.

    The next one had a baton, and she dodged it as he heart skipped a beat. So, Jason had dropped the pretense of a fair fight¡ª obviously, given the odds set against her. But this was no longer about business, this was definitely a statement.

    He was now above his own rules.

    She grabbed the baton as the man swung it again, and wrenched it from his grasp, smashing his temple, hitting his solar plexus with the baton¡¯s butt end and doing the same to his temple.

    Lights out. She assessed the damage she¡¯d caused to the other two. The one she¡¯d tossed to intercept his companion had tripped over his friend, and was getting to his feet. His friend, on the other hand, appeared enraged. He was big, and probably hoped that his ape-like reaction would intimidate her.

    Men, she scoffed.

    He attempted to grab her with both hands, and she ducked way into his reach, kicking out one knee, pulling back one of his arms as she stepped to the side extending it so that his elbow was facing the ceiling. Then, while holding his wrist, she smashed down on the elbow with all the force she could muster. There was a satisfying snapping sound and the man cried out in agony.

    She had no sympathy for the brute.

    She¡¯d not seen the next attacker, as his fist met the back of her head. She frowned, and rubbed her head as she considered the man. She recognized him, one of Emelia¡¯s entourage. She glanced around the club, and saw her near Jason, with the rest of her friends. Her intelligence hadn¡¯t said anything about Jason and Emelia having much of a relationship.

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    It had said that Emelia had a mercurial side, acting on behalf of aggrieved students to send some physical messages once in a while. She was small, unassuming, and bubbly, therefore the perfect agent for a surprise attack.

    She winked at Aera, but she could see Emelia¡¯s discomfort as clear as day. She might be morally flexible, but she even she was uncomfortable with Jason¡¯s display. Still, she¡¯d chosen the wrong side, whether it was in ignorance or not.

    When Aera fought her way up there, Emelia would learn her lesson, just like everyone else.

    He attacked, she countered, he wheezed, she patted him on the back.

    She was starting to warm up, now. But she also knew that soon, Jason would grow worried that his plan might not work out. That¡¯s when he would tell them all to fight her at once.

    She prepared herself for the next wave, which was already upon her.

    Looks like her prediction was right, Jason had grown tired of his underlings embarrassing him. They swarmed her in a wave of fists, kicks, and thrown bodies. She danced, dodged, blocked, weaved. Flesh met flesh, hers to others and others to hers.

    She danced around them as best she could, not letting them surround her anymore than necessary, but there was only so much she could do, especially against the one with the armor. He seemed content to wait for an opening, and Aera didn¡¯t want to give him one. He always kept at least one or two men between him and her.

    She wanted to finish him before he had a chance to finish her, but she couldn¡¯t find the right opening.

    And she was pretty sure one of her hands was half broken. She couldn¡¯t close it anymore, which meant that her options were even more limited.

    She barely made out a familiar scream behind her, and most of her attackers seemed surprised by the interruption.

    Then one of them went flying overhead. They were all distracted, especially the armored brute. She saw her chance, and took it. The two big plates meant that body shots were out, and he was wearing a helmet as well, but that just only meant she¡¯d be able to do something she¡¯d been wanting to do ever since she first saw it in the movies. She extended two fingers towards his eyes, and thrust out with all the the force she could muster.

    It might have been too much force, and she gagged at the result.

    She never wanted to do anything like that ever again. Her attack spurred a new sense of urgency into the surrounding mob, half of which had split off from attacking her.

    She sighed in relief. That just left four for her to finish up, and whoever had jumped in to help her could deal with the rest.

    She heard more screams, and her attackers paused again. Someone else flew past her.

    What the hell was going on?

    She didn¡¯t have time to find out. She knocked out another one of her attackers, and tripped another. The other two tried to grab her, and she swore when they succeeded.

    She realized that she was exhausted.

    That stupid drug must have been effecting her more than she realized.

    While one struggled to hold her in place, the other rounded up for a finishing punch. She kicked the moron in the nuts, and he was knocked over when one of his friends from the other group flew into him. She stomped on the foot of the guy who was holding her, and he yelped and let go. She elbowed him in the ribs, turned, and and headbutt him in the nose.

    She kicked him in the groin too, and spit on him as he was forced to kneel from the pain.

    One more kick to his head was probably enough to knock him out. She didn¡¯t take the time to find out, turning towards the chaos on the other side of the ring.

    ¡°Hunter?¡±

    What the fuck was he doing here?

    He punched out towards his two last attackers, and they both flew back a few feet, landing awkwardly, their limbs bending at unnatural angles.

    She winced.

    How had he done that? Hunter saw her and breathed a sigh of relief. He reached into his pockets and pulled out devices which mirrored the ones that she only now noticed he was wearing. He walked over to her and handed them over.

    ¡°Thumb this little button when you want them to go flying, but make sure they¡¯re close enough,¡± he said, heaving between breaths. He looked at the devastation around her, pausing at the big man with the armor whose eyes she¡¯d destroyed. He was on his knees, grasping around him, sobbing and asking for someone to help.

    She felt pity for the man. Maybe she¡¯d gone too far?

    Her attention was caught by movement at the top tier, above the heads of the crowd, some of whom gawked in disbelief as the result, others cheered at the top of their lungs.

    Jason was making a run for it.

    ¡°We can¡¯t let him get away with this,¡± Aera snarled. She expected Hunter to protest, but he was staring grimly at the armor.

    ¡°Hunter, let¡¯s go,¡± she said, pointing towards Jason and his group.

    He managed to wrestle his gaze from the armor, and he saw fury in his eyes. His eyes followed her finger, and he laughed as he saw Tilda Burner trying to leave with Jason.

    He sighed, and Aera could see the deep disappointment in his features, and she watched as grief cycled through him.

    Confusion, disappointment, anger, and then he shook his head.

    ¡°Let¡¯s just get out of here,¡± he said.

    They both started running their way out of the arena, jumping the small fence that separated the ring from the bottom tier. She made her way for the stairs that lead up towards the entrance.

    Jason¡¯s group hadn¡¯t left yet, as they were fighting a crowd whose attention was transfixed by the two fighters on an intercept course. Jason grew more desperate, outright pushing people out the way, some of whom were thrown down entire tiers.

    Aera was exhausted, but nothing energized her like the sight of Jason running in fear. He shouted at his men, and they turned to her, ready for a fight.

    ¡°Get out the way if you don¡¯t want to get hurt,¡± Aera yelled at the surrounding crowd as she approached the top tier, Hunter following close behind.

    She decided to test out this new toy.

    She thumbed the trigger as soon as she reached the first man-sized obstacle, and he was blasted back as if he¡¯d been hit by a truck. Aera laughed at the sight, admiring the device that Hunter had handed her. Too bad her other hand was all mangled up, she¡¯d have loved to see what two could do if she used them both at once.

    She grinned at the next guy in her way, and he pretended to trip on himself, falling to the side. She shook her head in amusement. She didn''t meet much more resistance on her way to Jason, who was nearing the entrance. Aera jumped onto tables and over heads as she ran towards him.

    The door to the club basement slammed shut as she reached it, and she heard it lock from the other side. She cursed. Hunter was heaving as he caught up to her.

    ¡°On three,¡± he said, aiming both of his fists towards the door, and Aera grinned as she caught on. She aimed hers as well.

    ¡°Three, two, one.¡±

    They triggered their devices, and Aera expected the metal door to go flying, but was disappointed when it merely slammed open.

    It must have been built pretty well. She didn¡¯t know much about doors, but hoped that whoever had designed this place had been well imbursed for their effort.

    They heard a groan down the alleyway, and she saw Jerry half submerged in a pile of trash.

    ¡°Sorry, Jerry,¡± she said as she and Hunter passed him. Jerry was alright, just doing his job. She¡¯d investigated most of Jason¡¯s employees, and was surprised to find that although he was one of the most intimidating guys in Jason¡¯s employ, the man was practically a teddy bear who was just paying his way through school. Hopefully he¡¯d be alright.

    They exited the alleyway, and looked both ways. There was no sign of Jason.

    ¡°He¡¯s probably in his office,¡± she said, glancing at Hunter. He didn¡¯t look so good.

    ¡°You alright?¡± she asked. He nodded, but she could tell that he was exhausted.

    ¡°Yeah, don¡¯t worry about me. I¡¯ve been through worse,¡± he said.

    She wasn¡¯t confident in his answer. He looked like he was in worse shape than she was.

    Not literally, of course. She was pretty sure she¡¯d need to visit a hospital after they were done here. The world kept tilting sideways, and she had to keep correcting it. She couldn¡¯t even feel her right hand anymore, and it hurt to breathe.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with,¡± he said, taking the lead and cutting through the line of people waiting to get into the bar.

    They got some concerned glances as they passed people, some even trying to stop them ask them if they needed help. Aera gave them the most threatening look she could, while Hunter told them that it was best if they went elsewhere for the evening. Some people threatened to call campus security and law enforcement, and she was pleased when Hunter laughed at them.

    The meek kitten was growing into a promising little lion.

 Chapter 49

    Hunter breathed deep, energizing himself as much as he could as he and Aera pushed their way through the crowded bar. The bartender protested when they pushed their way behind the bar, and took the stairs up to Jason¡¯s office.

    The door was blocked. Hunter looked to Aera, and she raised her eyebrow.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have a lot of juice left in me,¡± he said, ¡°you can do the honors.¡±

    She didn¡¯t hesitate to trigger the device, and the thin wooden door exploded backwards in a hail of splinters. Bottles of alcohol and soda¡¯s were sent flying, and Hunter cringed, hoping no one got hit by any glass.

    He followed Aera through the open doorway and up the stairs. They heard shouting coming from the office. Someone peaked down the stairs from the office and shouted a warning at them.

    ¡°Don¡¯t let them through,¡± they heard Jason yell, ¡°Stop them at all costs, I don¡¯t care if you kill them. First one to finish them can have anything they want, just get rid of them!¡±

    The stairway was thin, barely enough room for Aera and Hunter to walk side by side, but with one of her hands broken she didn¡¯t mind hunching a bit to give Hunter room.

    She sighed as she prepared to hold back whatever came next, but was surprised when Hunter stopped her and stepped forward.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be an idiot,¡± she said, pulling him back gently, ¡°this will require a bit more finesse than you¡¯re used to.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve only got one hand,¡± he said. He wasn¡¯t about to let her take on whoever was about to charge out of that office. She¡¯d been hurt enough.

    ¡°It¡¯s all I¡¯ll need,¡± she said, smiling at him, ¡°trust me.¡±

    The smile was genuine, he realized. She fully expected to be able to hold them back. Hunter shrugged, ready to give one last trigger to his F.P.E. if she needed the help¡ª and if he could ensure that they wouldn¡¯t end up buried under and avalanche of angry minions.

    Then they came, and Hunter was underwhelmed. He counted six men, but assumed there were more in the office itself, as quite a few had left with Jason, Tilda among them. His hand squeezed the construct.

    He can¡¯t believe he¡¯d been so stupid. He¡¯d actually believed that she was into him. He thanked whatever good sense he had in him that he hadn¡¯t told her anything important, because there were times when he was tempted, when he felt like he could trust her with anything, and wanted her to know everything about him.

    He¡¯d honestly thought that Aera¡¯s warning was nothing but paranoia born from a lifetime of being around a bunch of scheming, high-level corporate drones.

    And right to the end, he¡¯d held out hope that that Jason wasn¡¯t the person that she¡¯d made him out to be, but she¡¯d been right. She was right to try and shield him, she was right about being careful with Tilda, and she was right about the kind of man that Jason was.

    Hunter wasn¡¯t ready for the den of vipers he¡¯d fallen into. But he considered this to be a lesson learned.

    He needed to know who his ally¡¯s were, and he needed to trust them.

    Aera met the first challenger as they rushed down the stairs, a dagger in one hand and a baton in the other. They lunged at Aera, and Hunter was ready to intervene but Aera moved faster than both of them, grabbing the man¡¯s arm and pulling it over her left shoulder, which she dislocated. She wrapped her arm with the broken hand around the man¡¯s neck and squeezed.

    He was bigger than her, but she was stronger. With her good arm, she aimed the F.P.E. at the others as they came down towards them. The man in her grasp struggled to escape, struggled to breathe, and his friends could only watch.

    ¡°Anyone gets too close, I end him,¡± Aera said, pulling the man up by his neck and taking a step. The man grunted in discomfort and Hunter saw his face turning deep red, and then purple.

    ¡°Aera you¡¯re going to kill him,¡± Hunter whispered.

    She didn¡¯t react.

    She stepped forward again, and the men ahead of them hesitated, and then slowly stepped back. Hunter almost laughed. She eased up the pressure on the man¡¯s throat a bit and Hunter heard him gasp for breath.

    ¡°One wrong move and you¡¯re dead,¡± Aera said to him, and Hunter saw the man nod frantically, ¡°Step forward when I tell you to, slowly.¡±

    They made their way up the stairs.

    ¡°What¡¯s taking so long?¡± Jason yelled, approaching the stairs himself. He saw the situation and cursed.

    ¡°Fucking incompetent,¡± he said, and he reached behind himself. Hunter swore when he saw the gun, so did Aera.

    She let go of the man, and Hunter triggered his F.P.E just before he heard the first shots being fired.

    The pull of etherium almost rendered him unconscious. He was barely holding on at this point, and he knew he¡¯d probably be useless from here on out, but he needed Aera to know that he wasn¡¯t going to give up.

    Jason¡¯s men were screaming, confused about how to respond as their own boss had killed those who accidentally got in the way of his shots as their friend came flying at them from the other side. Aera took advantage of the chaos and activated her F.P.E, pushing the large men back, not letting Jason get a clear shot on them. Hunter saw Jason drop the gun one he was out of ammo and he retreated further into the office. Aera didn¡¯t want to give him a chance to find another weapon, so she rushed forward, activating the F.P.E. in rapid succession. Hunter winced.

    He hadn¡¯t built them to be used so frequently. He wanted to warn her about that, but he could barely summon the energy to speak. All of a sudden, the stairs seemed like they went on forever.

    He felt the familiar pull of sleep, the exhaustion was too much this time. He¡¯d pushed himself further than he ever had before. Further than he could have pushed himself before.

    He heard someone scream, it wasn¡¯t Jason. Suddenly, his exhaustion felt muted as he resolved to push himself up the steps.

    He saw Aera¡¯s back to him as he pushed past the entry way into the office. She was holding her fist out towards Jason, who had grabbed ahold of Tilda, a knife to her throat.

    ¡°You know I won¡¯t even hesitate to do it,¡± Jason said, his voice like a harsh whisper. It reminded Hunter of a snake. Hunter stumbled forward.

    ¡°Don¡¯t take another step, Hunter,¡± Jason said, and Hunter heard the edge of mania creeping into his voice ¡°you¡¯ve yet to see what I''m capable of when I''m in a bad mood.¡±

    ¡°Let her go,¡± Hunter said, each word feeling like it weighed a hundred pounds.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Jason said, tilting his head as if the thought was strange and novel, ¡°I suppose I could do that. Why didn¡¯t I think of that before?¡±

    He pulled the knife tighter against her throat.

    "Please don''t kill me," Tilda whimpered.

    ¡°Here¡¯s what I propose,¡± Jason said, ¡°You let me go, I take her with me, and we all go our separate ways. How does that sound?¡±

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Tilda sobbed.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Hunter,¡± she said, ¡°I had no choice. I¡¯m so sorry.¡±

    ¡°Shut up,¡± Jason snarled.

    Hunter didn¡¯t know what to do.

    He¡¯d never felt so conflicted in his life.

    He hated Tilda for betraying him, but he couldn¡¯t let her die.

    ¡°Aera, what do we do?¡± he asked.

    ¡°What do you say, Aera? Do we have a deal?¡± Jason asked.

    ¡°Please don¡¯t let him take me,¡± Tilda said, tears streaming down her cheeks.

    A sound distracted them, from the doorway. Hunter saw one of the men who had attacked them stumble his way through. He held a knife in his hand, and pointed it to Jason as he limped forward.

    ¡°We trusted you, you deranged son of a bitch. I¡¯ll kill you!¡±

    Jason¡¯s eyes widened as his employee charged at him.

    ¡°Now!¡± Aera yelled, and Tilda collapsed, pulling herself down as fast a she could while Jason was distracted. Aera charged past the big man, triggering her T.D.E. and sending him flying to the side. He wheezed as he hit the wall. Tilda scrambled out of the way as Aera¡¯s fist connected with Jason¡¯s temple.

    Jason stumbled back, and Hunter rushed to cover Tilda.

    Aera hit Jason again. And again.

    And again.

    Jason groaned, and Hunter was surprised the man was still conscious.

    ¡°Anyone you want me to call?¡± Aera asked as she searched his body, pulling out his cellphone and looking through his contacts.

    ¡°You can¡¯t do this to me,¡± Jason wheezed, ¡°Your family won¡¯t survive the aftermath.¡±

    ¡°You think we give a shit about the Chans, or the Locke¡¯s?¡±

    ¡°Maybe you don¡¯t, but the rest of the Council does. If you kill me, the rest of the Council will have all the excuse they¡¯ll need to act against your wretched family. Actually, now that I think about it, maybe you should kill me,¡± Jason said, laughing maniacally, ¡°But even if you don¡¯t, you can¡¯t stop what¡¯s coming.¡±

    Aera tapped her lip, appearing to contemplate Jason¡¯s words.

    ¡°Hunter, can we leave? I don¡¯t want to be here anymore,¡± Tilda whispered. Now that he knew she¡¯d be safe, he waved for her to leave.

    ¡°What about you?¡± she asked. She reached out for his hand. He pulled it away, refusing to look at her.

    ¡°Go,¡± he said.

    ¡°Hunter¡ª¡±

    ¡°Just go,¡± he said, leaving her alone to stand beside Aera. He heard Tilda¡¯s footsteps as she left, and her muffled sobbing faded as she made her way down the stairs.

    ¡°Why should I believe you?¡± Aera asked Jason, ¡°You¡¯re you.¡±

    Jason smiled in response. His face was mangled, he was missing teeth, and he coughed up some blood when he accidentally inhaled some.

    ¡°Fuck you, Oberon.¡±

    Aera frowned. She looked at Hunter, and back to Jason.

    ¡°On second thought, I¡¯ll be taking this,¡± she said, pocketing the phone, ¡°Let¡¯s go, Hunter.¡±

    Hunter followed Aera out, fighting the exhaustion that threatened to overtake him.

    ¡°You¡¯ll never be safe anymore, Aera. Your family will be hunted to the ends of Sanctuary. Soon, your whole domain will belong to me and mine, and I''ll be there on the day we find you. I''ll make you my own little¡ª¡±

    Aera shut the door behind them, muffling whatever Jason was about to say. Hunter was surprised the door had survived the conflict.

    ¡°Did you call dad?¡± Aera asked. Hunter shook his head.

    ¡°Totally forgot.¡±

    She laughed.

    ¡°Dumbass.¡±

    They were silent as they climbed down the stairs.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Aera said. Hunter wasn¡¯t sure she heard her.

    He glanced at her, raising an eyebrow.

    ¡°For coming to help me,¡± she clarified, ¡°For staying till the end.

    Hunter grinned.

    ¡°What are brothers for?¡± he asked. She coughed as she laughed, clutching at her ribs.

    They must have presented an interesting sight as they borrowed the bar¡¯s phone to call Trey. He was worried, and promised that the team would be on their way as soon as possible.

    ¡°Where can I tell the team to collect you?¡± Trey asked. Hunter glanced outside, and saw the campus security was starting to enter, clearing people out, their eyes narrowing as they spotted Hunter and Aera, the latter of which was bloody and battered.

    ¡°Campus security,¡± she said.

    They had to hang up, as the security personnel guided them out of the bar. He listened as the patrons told the campus security about how the two of them to forced their way behind the bar, and blew up the door leading to the bars¡¯ office, where they were about to find Jason Chan in a bloody mess along with some dead and battered employees.

    Not that Hunter was worried.

    It had occurred to him earlier, what the value of having such a powerful name. It meant that when it came to him, the law was a bit more flexible.

    Besides, whatever investigation occurred would uncover the truth that Jason was the one to fire the shots.

    He must have fallen asleep on the way to the headquarters for campus security, and he didn¡¯t have to wait long once he¡¯d woken up in a small cell for a team of heavily armed men and women to barge into the cell and check to see if he was okay. They escorted the exhausted Hunter out of the building, and into a large truck, where he¡¯d found Aera who they¡¯d intercepted just before she''d been taken to the nearest hospital.

    Aera assured them that she could wait to receive treatment, but after the team called Trey, he told them to have a doctor look her over before they brought them back to the Oberon domain. Before they left the campus, Hunter suddenly remembered his father¡¯s briefcase, and demanded that they turn around and return to the apartment building. He threatened to leave the moving truck when they refused, and they relented.

    They reached the hospital which Hunter had been confined for a month, and they wanted to hold Aera there for a few days, but the team refused. Trey called them again, and told them that they needed to return to the Oberon domain as soon as possible. So, with Aera in bandages and holding a small supply of painkillers, they left the hospital and drove for a few hours to the nearest airport, where a small plane waited for them¡ª the best transportation they could organize with such short notice.

    Hunter held the briefcase on his lap, and Aera was asleep at his side, her head resting on his shoulder. He watched as the Pacific Shield domain shrunk far below him, a city turning into rivers of lights, which joined even more neon rivulets connecting city¡¯s and towns like neurons in a two dimensional brain.

    He sighed, both relieved and disappointed.

    Relieved to be out of the shark tank, and disappointed that he¡¯d never have the chance to receive that degree of Excellence he¡¯d been working so hard towards.

    <hr>

    Jason finished sharing the news. His mother was silent for a long, agonizing moment.

    ¡°That¡¯s disappointing,¡± she said, her voice had lost all the warmth she¡¯d greeted him with after taking his call.

    ¡°I miscalculated,¡± Jason sighed, wincing slightly and coughing. ¡°I had thought the Koar sibling to be weak and skittish. He was just as likely to cave in on himself with the kinds of odds that he was up against.¡±

    He wiped some more blood from his face, and then grabbed a new cloth as the other was already fully used up.

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised they let you live,¡± his mother laughed, ¡°you wouldn¡¯t have done the same for them.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re not like us,¡± Jason said.

    ¡°No, no they¡¯re not. And that¡¯s exactly why we are superior.¡±

    Jason nodded, and winced as his fingers probed a bit too close to a bruise.

    ¡°Fret not, son. This is exactly the ammunition we need to get the other Council Seats to make their move. All of the assets are already in place, they¡¯ve just been waiting for the perfect moment to dethrone Trey Oberon.¡±

    Jason¡¯s pulse quickened. He¡¯d thought it would take more, but as he thought about it, his mothers words made sense.

    ¡°The investigation will take time,¡± he said, connecting the dots, ¡°precious time.¡±

    He could imagine that his mother¡¯s grin mirrored his own.

    ¡°Time for us to spin the narrative we need. My poor son, meeting nothing but hostility and accusation from the beginning of the year from the scion of a house which has been nothing but arrogant and greedy. And then, she had the nerve to barge into your place of business, kill your men, and beat you senseless. What savage violence she wrought, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    ¡°Yes, mother. I¡¯m aggrieved. Life is so unfair, why me?¡±

    ¡°Precisely,¡± his mother chuckled, ¡°it¡¯s only fair that we take what is theirs in return.¡±

    ¡°May justice run its course, I''m sure the good guys will win.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I''m quite sure,¡± she agreed, ¡°you¡¯ve always been my favorite, you know.¡±

    Jason nearly gagged.

    ¡°Naturally.¡±

    ¡°But you will need to earn back my trust after this fumble. I¡¯m always having to clean up after you, Jason. If you¡¯re not careful, I''ll have to send one of your brothers to take over. You know what that means, don¡¯t you?¡±

    He shuddered. She would pinch him, when he was young. Then, she''d grew bored. When he was old enough to handle it, she moved on to the belt. Then, she had her bodyguards act in her stead.

    He was older, now. Stronger.

    He didn¡¯t want to consider what the price of his next failure might be. There were rumors, of one of his older brothers. He¡¯d failed quite miserably, and had gone missing. This had happened before Jason was born.

    They never found his brother. But they say that his mother was the last person to ever see him.

    She did not tolerate failure kindly. She didn¡¯t tolerate failure at all. Compared to her, Jason was a saint.

    ¡°Yes, mother,¡± he said, trying his hardest to keep his voice even.

    ¡°Good. Keep your eyes on the television. I¡¯m sure things on the world stage are about to get quite interesting.¡±

    She hung up, and Jason was left feeling both victorious, and terrified.

    He would need to be more careful with how he acted in the future. This whole thing began because he had felt emboldened against the Oberon''s¡ª and trusted a feral dog to do the work of a snake. A test became a tribulation, and his mother had to organize his salvation.

    And still, he pushed the edges of what was being asked of him. He hadn¡¯t needed to make an example out of Aera, but once his mother had assured him of her confidence in the plan¡ª in the Oberon¡¯s downfall, he¡¯d felt invincible.

    He still did. Aera had held back, she hadn¡¯t finished him off. He knew she¡¯d wanted to, he saw it in her eyes. The cold rage, he¡¯d been nothing but an insect to her in that moment.

    It was her consideration of her brother that had stopped her, and Jason felt himself grateful for Hunters presence that day.

    He snickered as he thought about it. In a way, his miscalculation of Hunter Oberon Koar had ended up saving his life.

    In the future he would be much more careful about how he acted. Even when he held the upper hand, when he held all the advantages, he would step carefully. He could not afford to mess up again.

    It was not wise to risk his mother''s wrath.

 Chapter 50

    ¡°You¡¯re sure there¡¯s no other option?¡± Trey asked. The voice on the other end of the line sighed.

    ¡°I wish there was, old friend. But you know how the rest of the Council gets once they¡¯ve decided on a course of action.¡±

    Trey snorted.

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°For what its worth, I¡¯m sorry. I tried to protest, but they¡¯ve already made up their mind. there¡¯s a lot of momentum behind this¡ª more than you¡¯d expect had this all been a sudden decision. I think this was planned,¡± his friend said.

    ¡°Of course it was planned. I¡¯m just glad I had some advance warning. Thanks, by the way.¡±

    ¡°You know you can count on me.

    ¡°I do,¡± Trey considered whether he should bring his friend along, but the truth was, he wasn¡¯t entirely sure he could trust the man. Not when the lives of Aera, Hunter, and everything he could lose was hanging in the balance.

    And that trust was the deciding factor in who they¡¯d be bringing with them.

    ¡°I do,¡± he repeated, ¡°and I''ve requestioned a piece of work from one of your favorite artists on your behalf, for all the years you¡¯ve helped me.¡±

    ¡°Surely not Sinclair,¡± his friend asked, shocked by the revelation.

    ¡°The very same,¡± Trey said.

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have! This is too much! Where am I going to put it?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re happy.¡±

    ¡°And this on the announcement of your retirement! This isn¡¯t right Trey. You should be upset! You should be angry. Are you going to fight back?¡±

    There it was.

    His answer would be reported back to the Council.

    All of the security forces have already been recalled, ready to embark on ships heading outworld. Most were already on their way to distant outposts, having been suddenly reassigned¡ª their family¡¯s immigrating with them for a long-term deployment outworld.

    The Oberon domain would offer no resistance.

    ¡°When does the order take effect?¡±

    ¡°24 hours. That was all I could buy you.¡±

    It was better than he thought.

    ¡°No, there won¡¯t be a fight, as long as they hold to that 24 hour window.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± his friend said, ¡°well, that¡¯s relieving to hear. Should I expect to receive your family during the holidays? I¡¯m sure Lilah would love to catch up with Aera.¡±

    ¡°Not this year,¡± Trey said, ¡°I believe the family is due for a very long vacation.¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± his friend bellowed, ¡°I bet! You haven¡¯t stopped working since you took over for your father. I¡¯ve got to say¡ª you¡¯ve always impressed me more than the rest of our colleagues. Anyways, I''m sure you¡¯ll be busy for the next few hours. I¡¯ll let you take care of business. Call me when everything has calmed down,¡± his friend said.

    ¡°Will do, take care, my friend.¡±

    Trey hung up. He took one last puff of his cigar, leaving the stub on the table. Then he thought better of it and threw it in the trash, wiping the ash off the table and into the ash tray.

    He sighed. His assistant stood to his side, a concerned look on her face. She¡¯d been following all the developments as he had, and was quite aware of how severe their situation was.

    ¡°Idra, call your husband,¡± he said, his voice calm but tired, ¡°I¡¯ll call the board and ready Merciful Cloud for departure, then I''ll collect the kids. It¡¯s time to leave.¡±

    ¡°Exodus?¡± Idra whispered.

    Trey nodded, and started to call the board members who he¡¯d trusted with the project, and a few more who were strategically left out, but he could still trust enough to bring along with him. There were some whose expertise and competence would serve them well, but had habits and personality¡¯s that could undermine his authority in the coming years.

    He needed a loyal team to help him. Now more than ever, it was time to exercise his power as the Oberon monarch, a privilege he didn¡¯t take lightly, but was more than willing to use when necessary.

    Idra wasted no time on her part, and started dialing. They¡¯d discussed all the necessary steps, hoping for at least another few weeks before they¡¯d have to make this choice¡ª but they''d been prepared to make it at a moments notice. She¡¯d already spoken with her family about what they were preparing for, and they would be ready to leave as soon as she said so.

    The Chan¡¯s had managed to turn their child¡¯s mistake into just the catalyst they¡¯d needed to accelerate the timeline for their ascension.

    However, Trey was was grateful that Jason Chan had made so many mistakes in the way he handled Aera and Hunter. If he hadn¡¯t, Trey wouldn¡¯t have been inspired to keep an eye on the dynamics at play around Barnum this year, he wouldn¡¯t have caught on to the Chan¡¯s ambitions, and the plan to have his family removed.

    He was also grateful for the foresight he¡¯d had in planning Operation: Exodus in the first place. Everything seemed to come together to see that the Oberon Corporation had an escape route¡ª a way to survive the coming storm. Soon, the Oberon domain would be a hive of activity. They wouldn¡¯t be able to bring everyone along¡ª it would be impossible. But they had plenty of out-world assets which would be able to relocate now that they''d had time to plan.

    They would be all gone, stripped bare by the time the Council came to claim them.

    ¡°Oh,¡± he said, a thought occurring to him once he¡¯d made all the necessary calls, ¡°make sure the professor is on board one of the ships as well. He¡¯s already agreed to leave the academy at a moment¡¯s notice. Send small craft to extract him from Barnum. He¡¯ll be packed already.¡±

    Idra nodded and called the professor, and organized a team to extract him. Trey took a few prized possession from his office, stuffing them into a bag. He brought his favorite coffee cup, and a few books which held sentimental value. His staff at the mansion would be packing away a few memento¡¯s as well. All of the one¡¯s who he¡¯d had investigated, and passed muster, would be leaving with him, all of their family¡¯s accompanying them.

    It would be the biggest fleet movement in the world¡¯s history. Within an a few hours, the sky would belong to the Oberon corporation, and their vast firepower would be covering the escape of all the personnel they could gather.

    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    He took one last, fond glance at the home office which had served his family for generations.

    He closed the door behind him, shifting his mind from the past to the future.

    It was time to build a new legacy, somewhere far from Sanctuary, far enough that the Council wouldn¡¯t find them for a long, long time.

    Oberon would not die here¡ª they would rebuild. And they would thrive.

    He called Aera, and then Hunter, and told them to get ready to leave.

    <hr>

    The change had come so sudden. A couple of days after they¡¯d returned to the Oberon estate, Hunter was deeply relaxed, in a state of intense focus as he traced out the newest etheric channels which had been forming over the last week.

    He¡¯d worried that his over-expenditure of etherium had strained him too far, and that it would have had an averse effect on his channels. But it turned out it actually had a beneficial effect. There were quite a few new growths in response to the strain. It appeared the mechanism behind the rapid growth of his channels was highly adaptive. His channels hadn¡¯t expanded any more than usual, but they felt more intense. There was more etherium flowing through them than before.

    Is AR had gone up again. He¡¯d started a new journal to record his progress.

    5:50pm

    Start AR: 25

    End AR: 26

    At this rate, he would be hitting 30 AR in a few days.

    However, he realized it was too early to celebrate. New phenomena meant unknown variables, and when it came to his growth, there was only so much of the unknown that Hunter was willing to tolerate. To that end, he decided that he would try to limit the intensity of his ether expenditure for the near future as he grew to understand what had happened.

    He¡¯d missed the first call from Trey, having been very deep into his practice. But he was there for the second one.

    Hunter was shocked, when Trey told him to get ready to leave.

    They were leaving?

    Everyone was leaving?

    He told him he¡¯d explain everything when they met up later, in the meantime he was meant to pack his essentials. They would apparently be going on a very long trip. Hunter wondered how far they would be travelling, and why, and he remembered what Trey had said to them before their last day at Barnum.

    The council was squeezing them out.

    If he was right, then this was serious. Where the hell would they go? It wasn¡¯t like the Council wanted to hunt them down, was it?

    Then he considered who was behind the whole plot, and knew that it was entirely possible that their lives could be in danger.

    Hunter didn¡¯t take long to pack. He knew what he could live with, and what he could live without. He didn¡¯t need his third arm anymore, so he left it behind. It was hung up on his tool rack as a reminder.

    He thought about it from a symbolic perspective, and then decided to bring it anyways. It was important to remember what he was capable of, how he could adapt to circumstances when the circumstances didn¡¯t seem to want to adapt to him. Just because his biggest impediment had been solved, didn¡¯t mean that he could take it easy. He was the kind of person who persevered, and he wouldn¡¯t let himself forget it.

    He¡¯d packed some of his favorite clothes, his fathers journals, as well as his own journals and schematics for future projects. He considered the luxurious, comfortable bed that he¡¯d come to enjoy, but figured he wouldn¡¯t be able to take it with him.

    Nor would he be able to take the view, which was unfortunate, but perhaps one day he¡¯d find something better.

    Hunter took inventory of what he had, which wasn¡¯t much, seeing if there was anything else he wanted to take with him. Then he remembered his favorite coffee blends which the kitchen always stocked in excess. He made a call, and sighed in relief when they told him that Trey had already had their entire supply shipped out to wherever they were going. When he asked if they knew where that shipment was headed, they told him that they were just as clueless as he was.

    Trey was keeping this close to his chest. He wondered what the man had planned.

    With only the faintest hint of regret, he turned off the light to the room and closed the door. He went to the front of the house, where he found Barry and Aera packing bags and trinkets into the Kellese.

    She offered to take Hunters luggage and place it in the trunk. Barry wasn¡¯t having it, pointing at her cast, and then shaking his finger at her, taking Hunters luggae from him except for the briefcase which he refused to let anyone else touch.

    ¡°Thank the universe we¡¯re taking the Kellese,¡± Hunter said as they both sat in the backseats.

    Aera smiled and shook her head.

    ¡°It¡¯s just a car,¡± she said.

    ¡°iTs JuSt A cAr,¡± Hunter mocked.

    ¡°Grow up,¡± she sighed. Then held up a finger when he was about to repeat his performance, a look of warning on her face.

    He¡¯d seen her almost choke out a man twice her size, he¡¯d take the warning. Barry got in the drivers seat, but waited to start the car.

    ¡°What are we waiting for?¡± Hunter asked.

    The front door to the mansion opened and Trey stepped out, holding a travel mug which Hunter was sure he knew was full of their local light-roast.

    ¡°Where¡¯s your stuff?¡± Aera asked as Trey entered the passenger side seat, and Barry activated the car.

    ¡°Sent it on ahead,¡± Trey said.

    ¡°And where exactly is ¡®ahead¡¯?¡± Hunter asked, still feeling apprehensive about the sudden move.

    Trey smiled and looked back at Hunter, his suit jacket and tie bunched up a bit under his chin.

    ¡°You¡¯ll see. I think you¡¯re gonna like it,¡± Trey said, frowning at his tie and readjusting it as he faced the front window again.

    ¡°You¡¯re really going to keep us in suspense?¡± Hunter asked, glancing at Aera to see if she was feeling the same way he was. She was appearing as stoic as ever, but it wasn¡¯t the cold and distant look he¡¯d endured the last time they both sat together like this.

    After that evening at Barnum, something had shifted between them. Hunter would hesitate to call them close¡ª but they weren¡¯t strangers anymore, no where they just acquaintances who were contracted to spend time together.

    Now they were friends. He didn¡¯t just trust Aera to have his back, he wanted to trust Aera to have his back. And was sure she felt the same way.

    They were a unit. Over the last couple of days, they even found themselves continuing their training sessions without Trey prompting it. They joked around, and laughed, and Hunter called Aera a cripple, and she showed him that even a cripple can still kick his ass.

    Hunter thought it was kind of awesome. It made him feel good. Not getting his ass kicked, but the fact that there was no hostility behind it.

    They were just messing around. They were having fun.

    Hunter had never had a sister before, and he wondered if this is what it felt like.

    ¡°Suspense, and then some,¡± Trey said. Throughout the trip, Hunter noticed him keeping his eyes on the sky, and Hunter found himself doing the same. There was an awful lot of activity up there.

    ¡°Some sort of event going on?¡± Hunter asked, ¡°Something to do with the Council?¡±

    Trey sighed.

    ¡°Yeah, something to do with the Council. A Council which,¡± he checked his watch, ¡°in about 9 hours, we will no longer be a part of.¡±

    So he¡¯d had been right. Aera tensed beside him, growing more still than usual.

    ¡°But there¡¯s always a plan,¡± Trey said, ¡°And a plan behind the plan. And a plan behind the plan behind the plan.¡±

    ¡°Where are we going?¡± Aera asked, ¡°What are we going to do?¡±

    ¡°We are going to be okay,¡± Trey said, ¡°in fact I think we¡¯re going to be more than okay. Come on, let it be a surprise. I promise you won¡¯t be disappointed.¡±

    Hunter complained a bit more, but Trey was refusing to budge. The man was a stubborn as Aera, go figure.

    Instead of heading towards the city, the Kellese headed deeper into the mountains. An hour later, they crested a hill, and Hunter saw a sight that took his breath away in the valley below them.

    Hundreds of ships were grounded, and thousands of people were lined up around them. Cargo was moving at a scale that Hunter had never seen before.

    ¡°Is this the whole fleet?¡± Hunter asked. Trey shook his head.

    ¡°This about half of it. Most of the military vessels will be getting in position now, and the rest have already left.¡±

    ¡°Holy heavens,¡± he breathed. He heard Trey snicker. Barry drove them down into the valley, and they drove right to the end of the line of ships. Hunter took in every sight he could, every sillhoutte, every make and model.

    The dots were starting to connect.

    ¡°You¡¯re moving the whole company. We¡¯re all going outworld.¡±

    Trey just smiled. The Kellese approached the biggest ship, the final ship in the assemblage. It was at least three times bigger than the rest. They drove past the line of people and joined the freight cars hauling supplies through the ships cargo bay.

    They exited the car as Barry went to park it in a specially marked cargo container.

    ¡°Welcome aboard the Merciful Cloud,¡± Trey said as he opened the door that connected the cargo bay to the rest of the ship, ¡°flagship of the fleet, and our home for the next year.¡±

    ¡°How far are we going?¡± Aera asked.

    ¡°Far away,¡± Trey said, ¡°Very, very far.¡±

    He glanced back at them.

    ¡°Far enough that we¡¯ll be free to live, and expand as we please,¡± he glanced at Hunter, who was staring at every nut and bolt he passed, every pipe and grating.

    He couldn¡¯t get enough. He wanted to see it all.

    He was finally here. In a roundabout way, Trey had kept his promise, and Hunter hadn¡¯t even had to earn Excellence for it.

    Trey patted him on the back, and laughed.

    "I knew you''d like it."