《Shifting Forces》


 Prologue: Darkness Rising

    The mansion loomed ominously above the four thieves that crouched next to its walls, their breath coming out as puffs of vapor in the cold hours of night. Fortunately for them, the hired burglars had only encountered one guard that night, and his corpse was now in a bag that sat rather conspicuously off to the side. As the light of a passing watchman faded from a window about two stories above them, one of the thieves moved quickly, tossing a rope with a hook tied to the end up onto the windowsill, acting as a sort of grappling hook. She motioned the others to follow as she began climbing. Exactly as planned, they entered the third floor with plenty of time to spare until the next watchman came around. The woman, clearly the leader of the group, pointed toward a door a few meters down the hallway, and they moved silently toward it. One of the men produced a lock pick, and in a few minutes, the door was open.


    Inside was a room that had clearly not been used for some time. It was cubical, with bare walls and a nondescript wooden flooring. The only source of light was the moonlight streaming in from outside, and even that wasn¡¯t much. The woman produced a flashlight, and switched it on. Security would be coming around in few minutes, so their time was short. She motioned with her free hand toward a large box in the middle of the room. It appeared to be the only furnishing there, and it was pretty poor. The box appeared to be made of wood, and was about 6 feet or so long. The thieves had been told that it held something important, and that they were to steal it. Pending their success, they would be paid handsomely for the contents of the container.


    One of the men removed a crowbar from his backpack, and inserted it under the lid of the box, lifting it up then shoving it to the side. As he did so, a cloud of dust rose up from the interior, causing him to blink and cough vigorously¡­


    And found that he was lying in the box.


    ¡°When the hell did you get in there?¡± The woman hissed, half-angry, half-confused. None of them had seen when he had gotten into the box¡­


    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡± the man replied, moving to get out of the box. In the next instant, a figure appeared between the three burglars standing there and the box.


    ¡°Ah¡­ it¡¯s been so long since I¡¯ve had visitors.¡± The newcomer was obviously male, and his voice was deep and rich. It wasn¡¯t the kind of voice a doting uncle would have, however. The thieves were filled with fear when they heard him. How had he known they were there? When had he entered the room? Most of all, who was he?


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    There was a sharp scream from the one in the box as some kind of invisible force began pressing down on him, as if he had been placed under a large printing press and some devious sadist was sqeezing him with it.


    ¡°Help me! I¡¯m going t-¡± was all he had time to say before the force suddenly increased, crushing his body and killing him, splattering his insides over the interior of the box.


    ¡°Little thieves¡­ I must thank you for awakening me. Your presence has renewed my power. I give you the gift¡­¡± The man vanished, and appeared behind the remaining three, lifting the woman up by her neck.


    ¡°¡­ of death.¡± He squeezed, and crushed his victim¡¯s throat and lower brainstem, killing her instantly. The other two men were already running out into the hallway, attempting to get to the window that would be their escape.


    One of them, a shorter, stouter fellow, made the mistake of looking behind him. There, only a few inches from his face, was the man who had just killed his comrades. Out in the hallway, the moonlight illuminated his face slightly, revealing a tall man with pitch-black hair streaked with white, as if he were on the verge of aging. However, his face was young, like one who had just reached his mid-twenties. The stout burglar didn¡¯t have time to consider what this meant, however, as a force blasted him from the side, crushing his ribcage and knocking his skull against a wall, breaking it. If he didn¡¯t die immediately from that, the sheer trauma and blood loss soon would.


    The last thief had just made it to the window when he felt a pain in his stomach.


    ¡°You almost made it too¡­¡± In his pain, the young thief heard the melodically deep voice floating to his ears, as he looked up and saw that the mysterious man was now (somehow) standing right in front of him. Then, he looked down, at his abdomen.


    His last thoughts were those of confusion. When had those knives gotten there?


    ***


    The pitiful thieves thus dispatched, the man gazed out of the window, at the crescent moon glowing in the sky above.


    ¡°I¡¯m back¡­¡±

 Chapter 1: Taking Darian

    For all of his life, Darian had been bred for a single purpose: to serve his empire. Darian¡¯s parents had been simple folk, mere rice farmers on the Western side of the Crown Mountains. They had come for him early one morning, as his father was starting up the combine harvester. It was the season when the rice had just the right amount of moisture to harvest and provide maximum yield, so the farm was busy with hands moving here and there, preparing for the day¡¯s work. His mother was busy as well, cooking breakfast for everyone while carrying a sleeping Darian in a sling close to her chest.


    It was then that the car came. A military vehicle: a rectangular-looking affair with a green and dark-red paint job, showing off the Aben flag¡¯s colors. Of course, vehicles like these were never used in combat. Too flashy and not utilitarian enough to withstand battlefield stresses. No, these only carried top brass and Academy officials. As the rumble of the engine grew louder, the hands gradually stopped to look up in curiosity, until it was the only sound audible save the whispering of the wind and the distant revving of the combine.


    Eventually, even that came to a stop as the car drew up to the house and the man inside got out to talk to Darian¡¯s parents while his driver waited patiently where he was. The man was indeed, a recruiter from the Academy, as the grey uniform and lack of epaulets signified. The Courser Academy was less formal than the actual military. In exchange for funding, personnel, and equipment (such as the car), the Academy gave the military freshly graduated coursers to supplement operations and battles. These aura manipulators could turn the tide of any battle, even if only one was present on the field itself.


    ¡°How can I help you?¡± Darian¡¯s father, Merl, addressed the visitor. His tone was nervous and apprehensive. Their farm wasn¡¯t that well-known, and for a person like this to come out here in the middle of nowhere, miles away from any town, there must be some important reason. His thoughts, along with those of his wife, were those of concern. Are we in trouble? Did one of the hands commit a crime? What does the Academy want with us?


    The man himself, along with the already-mentioned clothing, was a lanky man. He didn¡¯t look like someone who had seen much combat, but it was common knowledge that every courser who made it far in life had been involved in some major battle in the past. It was rumored that some were even immortal, and could elongate their lives merely by having other people near them. So, it was with trepidation that the couple approached their visitor.


    He was also solemn and his skin was an off-white, almost jaundiced color, indicating that he was probably from the southeast part of Aben. Dark hair and an ever-so-slightly prognathous jaw were also evidence as to this.


    ¡°My name is Visler, and I am from the Academy. Congratulations,¡± he began, sounding not particularly happy for them. ¡°Your child has an abnormal aura, indicating that he has innate talent to become a courser.¡± His tone was dry and official, but not unkind. He had done this to innumerable families over the years, taking their children to become what were essentially super-soldiers. At first, he had tried to be and sound sympathetic, but he found that he only felt the pain and sorrow of the parents so suddenly deprived of their children. So, as time went on, he had purposefully deadened himself to their pleas and become desensitized to them. However, that didn¡¯t make him a cruel person in general, so he liked to think.


    The reaction from these two was one he didn¡¯t often get: acceptance. They stood there, the man nodding reluctantly for him to continue. Were they so willing to give up their child like that? Pushing these thoughts away, he began going over the usual conditions.


    ¡°You will be given compensation according to the law. Of course, your child will be allowed regular visits, though the large majority of his time will be spent at the Academy. In the unlikely case that he should be killed in combat, you will receive immediate notification and a further increase in compensation. I know that his may be difficult for you,¡± he continued, ¡°but know that your child will become one of Aben¡¯s greatest heroes.¡±


    With that, he would stop talking, looking with expectant, beady eyes at the couple. The woman simply stepped forward and handed the child to him. Visler looked surprised as he slowly took the sleeping infant into his arms. Never in all his years had a child been given to him so easily, with such little sadness.


    ¡°Uhrm¡­ Goodwoman...¡± he began, his composure breaking slightly, ¡°why do you hand him over so readily?¡±


    She merely looked at him with a resigned expression on her face.


    ¡°We knew you would be coming eventually, sir.¡± Her tone wasn¡¯t even angry, but rather, calm and collected. ¡°We knew he was special¡­ even though he¡¯s only a babe, he can do things no other child can. I dropped a knife¡­ and he stopped it from falling onto my foot. Take him; it¡¯s what¡¯s best.¡±


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    Visler nodded, understanding. Still, this was a strange couple.


    ¡°What is his name?¡±


    ¡°Darian. Darian Merlson.¡±


    He bowed slightly, and handed the baby to the driver, who began buckling him into the infant car seat in the back of the vehicle. They had two, in case there were twins. For whatever reason, if one twin had an aura, so did the other. It was one of the mysteries of courser children, and no one had managed to figure out why it was so.


    ¡°Very well, Goodwoman. Anything else I should know before I take my leave?¡±


    She thought for a second, then spoke.


    ¡°He¡¯s allergic to shellfish. Don¡¯t feed him shellfish.¡±


    Visler grinned slightly, his first genuine smile in a long time.


    ¡°Very well. Thank you both very much. The first portion of your compensation will arrive tomorrow afternoon. Farewell.¡±


    With that, he climbed into the car. ¡°Take us back to the academy.¡± The driver nodded without a word, and they sped away from the rice farm, without even a glance back at the other two.


    ¡°Odd couple.¡± Visler spoke to no one in particular, his mind wandering slightly. He turned his head to look back at the chubby, sleeping child. Hmm¡­ didn¡¯t appear to have any external physical defects. The Academy could certainly make something of this one, given enough time and effort. Every young student there was a great investment of both military and government funds, so naturally, excellence was expected.


    The car turned onto a main highway, and headed southwest, away from the Crown Mountains and toward the Aben¡¯s capital, Adhon. This grand city contained the world¡¯s only Courser Academy, which more than prepared these gifted youngsters with the knowledge and ability to assist Aben¡¯s soldiers in the seemingly never-ending war against the other two great nations Segate and Reve. Considering how objectively superior their own coursers were, Visler wondered why they hadn¡¯t won the war yet.


    Sure, the other sides had coursers too, but no facilities to train them with. He hadn¡¯t been on the front lines in ages, but he had heard that Segate, at the very least, had developed more advanced weaponry than Aben¡¯s.


    He shrugged these thoughts away. No matter what, he mused, he must not even consider defeat to be an option. Year after year, the Academy improved its curriculum and techniques, and each graduating class was better than the last. At this rate, there would be no defeat for them.


    In a few hours, they reached Adhon. Naturally, they ran into midday traffic, but a few minutes of further waiting didn¡¯t matter to Visler and his impassive driver. Darian had woken up, but remained quiet, even among the chaos and cacophony of the city. That¡¯s a good sign, Visler thought. The boy knows he¡¯s in control.


    After reaching the inner city, they pulled into the academy driveway.


    Visler gave his thanks to the driver, who tipped his hat and went to park the car after the recruiter took the baby inside. He gave Darian over to child care, who would raise him for the next five years of his life. When he was six, he would be entered into the Academy proper, where he would learn lessons like any normal child until he turned fourteen.


    At that age, the Academy added extra classes. Combat training, aura manipulation training, and so on. It could be considered a high school, perhaps. A high school for the supernaturally talented.


    Grow up, be strong. Visler thought, as he left the building. These were well-wishes he sent to every child he dropped off. With any luck, this one would be as much of a success as he hoped for.


    ***


    ¡°Have you disposed of the thieves¡¯ bodies?¡±


    The man sat in a chair while a night watchman stood before him.


    ¡°Yes, my lord. Needless to say, I am delighted to witness your return. My family has faithfully guarded this mansion for generations.¡±


    The man in the chair had now donned a mask. It was an egg-white-colored mask, with two eye-slits and a dark, accented vertical line bifurcating it vertically. It was a design used at costume parties, where those who wore it belonged to a generation who had forgotten its original wearer.


    The Masked Man spoke, his voice quiet yet powerful.


    ¡°Gather the others. Ensure you have enough people to power their auras and awaken them. When you have found the remainder of my servants, return to me. Then, I will give you the world we desire so much.¡±


    "Yes, my lord."

 Chapter 2: Meghs Last Day

    ¡°Just face it, already¡­¡±


    Megh pulled on his helmet and uniform, the winged symbol emblazoned on each signifying that they were the property of the Republic of Segate. Buckling on his sidearm, he headed out of his room, tapping his hand against the biometric security pad to close and lock the door as he left.


    Another morning, another day of training ahead of him. He brushed a bit of stray hair back under his helmet as he followed the map on his small wristpad, a grey strand falling from his head and drifting to the floor. Taking a left took him out of the living quarters and into a larger portion of the building. A couple of taps on his wristpad told him that the first thing on his agenda was advanced marksmanship training.


    Megh sighed. He could already feel the tedium.


    In Segate, the Enhanced Soldier Corps was trained using the best virtual reality training equipment that the Republic had at its disposal. For Megh, however, even the best wasn¡¯t enough. He passed by a couple of newborn recruits, fresh out of the cloning vats and staring wide-eyed at the marksmanship simulator leaderboards. As they noticed him, they turned around and saluted sharply, their adolescent bodies snapping to attention. Megh ignored them and walked into the simulation chamber.


    ¡°Give me your best¡­ again.¡±


    A lightly sarcastic female voice boomed out from the speakers hidden in the walls and ceiling.


    ¡°You sure, Megh?¡± He sighed. It looked like Bet was on duty today.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m sure. Hardest difficulty, et cetera. Come on, I don¡¯t have time to waste.¡±


    ¡°Silly, I was teasing you.¡± He could almost see her mock pout. ¡°All right, booting up.¡± The chamber came to life, humming with a resonating thrum as it turned on, a smoking, blasted battleground materializing around him as virtual gear appeared on his body. As the changes completed, he ducked for cover immediately. The very first time he had done this, he had made the mistake of staying out in the open. He had learned quickly to hide.


    Because on this map¡­ every opponent was a Courser. And not just any Courser, an Aben one, tried and trained in their academy. For the past few decades of war, Segate had dedicated many of its resources to creating soldiers who would be able to combat these apparent demi-gods of the battlefield. When direct countermeasures failed, they created departments to handle each part of their war machine separately. The Bioenginneering Division, for example, was the one that had synthetically created Megh and the others in the Corps.


    A Courser found him quickly, one always did. The brick wall he had been crouching behind suddenly crumbled as the virtual opponent¡¯s aura slammed into it, breaking it apart and causing it to crumble and collapse. Quickly, Megh stood up. If the Courser had been real, he would have barely been able to detect Megh¡¯s movment, his body moving at inhuman speeds as he stood up, raised his gun, and fired.


    A short beam of blue light shot from the barrel, making a smoldering hold in the Courser¡¯s chest. The virtual adversary fell to the ground. One down, two to go. He thought. Bending down, he confirmed the kill before turning to climb the building a few meters behind him. Light was one of the few things a Courser couldn¡¯t deflect with his aura. Some top scientist in R&D had concluded this. Light had to be able to get through the aura at all times; otherwise, how would the Coursers be able to see? So, the Republic had weaponized light itself.


    In a matter of seconds, he had scaled the building and set up on the roof. Slinging a duffel bag off of his back, he removed a sniper rifle and a two-pronged stand from it. He fitted the stand to the rifle, and peered through the scope. He could pick one of his two targets out immediately, hovering in the air near a wrecked playground. Tapping a button on the side of the scope, he zoomed in, focusing his sights on the second Courser¡¯s head.


    His face emotionless, he pulled the trigger.


    With another blue flash of light, his target found that it had a hole in its head. Only one more to go, but his task would only get harder from here. Despite having dispatched the first two with so much ease, the last one was¡­ special.


    One in twenty or so Coursers were special in this way. They had unique abilities, surpassing even normal aura-users. The infamous General Wheatley, for example, had been known to be able to incinerate whole battalions with a mere snap of his fingers. One of Aben¡¯s emperors had drowned an entire town in poison gas.


    Each time he tried this simulation, a different evolution was chosen for his final opponent. He peered through his scope with bated breath, waiting for something to show up on his thermal sensor or heartbeat detector. Any time now¡­ where are you?


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    The only warning he got was a rumble beneath him. Moving as quickly as he could, he stood and jumped off the side of the building as the final Courser shot up from underneath him, blowing an enormous hole in the side of the building.


    The maximum extension range of a Courser¡¯s aura is about ten meters. If I stay beyond that, I should be safe from crushing blows. That¡¯s not what I¡¯m worried about, though¡­


    The virtual courser clenched his fist, and Megh felt that the air was somehow tightening around him. Here it comes¡­


    The Courser thrust out his clenched hand and a spike of metal about six inches long materialized from nowhere, accelerating towards him.


    I can see it! He calmly stood up, and drew his pistol.


    Easy. I¡¯m faster than that.


    After shooting the spike down, Megh dashed to the right, firing off another shot as the enemy roared in anger, flying up out of the beam¡¯s path. He clenched both his fists now, and a cloud of similar flechettes appeared, raining down towards Megh.


    He closed his eyes, then opened them again. To any normal person, this motion was so fast that it would be unregisterable. It would appear as if Megh¡¯s eyes suddenly turned from their normal green to a brilliant gold.


    I can see these too¡­


    Not just that, but to him, the spikes seemed to produce ethereal shadows, indicating where they would be a few seconds in the future. Shifting one foot forward, Megh holstered his pistol and drew a couple of odd-looking devices from his belt. They were almost cylindrical in shape, and made to fit his hands. He squeezed them slightly, and they hummed to life as knife-like blades of solid light appeared from each one.


    Naturally, he had done all this within the time that it took for the flechettes to move halfway toward him. Knowing where the projectiles would be was a useful ability to have, he thought, as he raised the blades and began to sweep them in arcs, deflecting the incoming spikes away from him. Just as he was about to finish knocking away the last ones, Megh noticed another quantum shadow over his vision.


    The Courser? As he swept aside a final spike, his final adversary descended rapidly from the skies, placing Megh within his melee range. He¡¯d been careless¡­ this had happened to him only once before, but hadn¡¯t dealt with it very well the first time. The only thing to do was to somehow take out the Courser before its aura could crush him. Gritting his teeth slightly, he moved his arms, pointing the blades at the courser¡¯s chest just as he began to feel a crushing sensation around him.


    The blades detached from the hilts, traveling towards the Courser¡¯s chest. Just as he felt like his bones were about to break, the knives of light embedded themselves in their target¡¯s chest, piercing his heart and lungs and killing them instantly. As he dropped to the ground, catching his breath, the simulation dissolved around him.


    Bet spoke up again. ¡°I never get tired of watching you beat them. That¡¯s the thirty-eighth time in a row you¡¯ve cleared this level of the simulation, you know. You ought to be proud of yourself.¡±


    Pride wasn¡¯t what he felt. His only thoughts were: mission complete.


    A few hours later, back in his quarters, his wristpad beeped. It was a deployment notice. So, it seemed that those bumbling senators had finally noticed him. Well, the front lines should ease his boredom somewhat. He¡¯d actually get to kill real Coursers now. He remembered back to his initial evaluation, and the examiner¡¯s look of wonder.


    ¡°Just face it, Megh¡­ you¡¯re Segate¡¯s secret weapon.¡±


    ***


    The Masked Man had sent forth his chief steward, who brought four others with him. For two years, they had sought to gain access to this tomb by legitimate means, but with no success. At last, however, they had acquired the means to break in.


    The men stood around an enormous stone coffin in the center of the room. On it was inscribed the words:


    HERE LIES THE 1ST EMPEROR OF ABEN


    A WISE AND JUST RULER


    MAY HE REST IN PEACE


    What the world did not know, however, was that the First Emperor hadn¡¯t died. In reality, he had merely put himself in a coma, waiting for the day when his Masked friend would revive him. And now, with the presence of five others, he would return. A powerful force blew off the lid of the coffin, raining down dust on all those present.


    ¡°Welcome back¡­ my Lord Emperor.¡±